#alternatively rookie had ENOUGH

[ratatatastic]

when your vet isnt your vet anymore so its morally correct to get mad about his shenanigans actually

florida panthers @ seattle kraken | 12.10.24

[mother-honour]

Actions have consequences. Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN Civilian! Spouse! Reader) Part 2

( A very quick authors note before the fic- HOLY GODAMN CHRIST. I did not expect part 1 to reach so many likes- Ya'll are absolutely amazing ^^) @v1x3n

Summary: You still haven't woken up after that fateful day, and it's tearing him apart.

CW: Simon being an absolute wreck, Price giving hugs, swearing, emotional hurt, heavy angst, hospital visits, in-accurate military stuff, character death (?)

These past three weeks have been nothing but pure torture for Simon.

You still haven't woken up after all this time, and it was tearing him apart. Whenever he couldn't be by your side, he sat at home, silently crying to himself as guilt crushed him on the inside. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he couldn't pretend that everything was normal while you were fighting for your life.

Because of him, he kept reminding himself.

The longer it took, the worse Simon got. He started to make mistakes on the field. Ghost, a well-respected man in his field, was acting like a rookie who just got out of basic training. His head wasn't with the 141; it was always stuck on you. The team had begun to notice as well. Price was the first, of course, knowing Simon as well as he did.

The captain had noticed it the first day he had come back to base. There was something unknown lingering in the lieutenant's eyes, and it was coming to bite him in the ass. After Simon made a mistake that could've caused multiple casualties, Price had enough. "Ghost. My office, now." He spoke sternly after the four of them got back. The lieutenant obeyed automatically, following the price mindlessly. Once the office door clicked behind them, Price turned around to face him.

"Now, you are going to tell me what the hell has been going through that bloody brain of yours." The captain crossed his arms, his form burning with authority as he stared at his lieutenant with hard eyes. "Every since 3 weeks ago, you have been making mistakes left and right." The captain huffed as he ran a hand over his face. His eyes had somewhat softened as he placed a hand on Simon's shoulder.

"Simon, whatever is bothering you, I need you to tell me. As your captain, it is my responsibility that you can do your job properly and keep you safe, no matter if it is physical or mental." It was then that Simon finally broke. He dropped to his knees with an agonizing cry, hot tears streaming down his face as he pounded his fist into the floor. "ITS ALL MY FAULT!" He yelled between harsh sobs.

"ITS ALL MY FUCKING FAULT PRICE! IF I HADN'T SAID ANYTHING-" Strong arms wrapped around Simon as he reached his breaking point, pulling him close as the comforting voice of Price filled his ears. "I got you, son. I got you." Simon's breath hitched as he let himself cry into his captain's shoulder. He didn't care about being professional right now; he just needed comfort.

And right now, Price was the one to give him that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After letting his heart out to Price, he allowed Simon to take the week off. 'You need it more than ever, Simon.' Price had said as he escorted him outside of the base. 'Just make sure to screw your head back on before you get back?' Simon couldn't help but let out a forced chuckle at his captain's last statement, leaving to go back to you shortly after. He had the steering wheel in an iron grip, his knuckles turning white as he drove down the road.

The same road leads to your shared house.

The same road you drove on before-

The booming horn of a truck came from Simon's left, snapping him out of his thoughts as he swung just in time to avoid the crash. His eyes were wide, and his palms were sweating as he looked back at the truck that was speeding off into the distance. Simon shook his head firmly as he focused back on the road, the agonizing voice in his head screaming at him that, in an alternate scenario, you would've been able to come back home safe.

Simon pressed the gas, surely going over the speed limit as he came closer and closer to his destination. He bolted out of the car and towards the front desk as soon as the tired came to a stop, scaring the shit out of the elder lady who was just enjoying a cup of tea. Her wide eyes softened once she recognized the man who had come here every day to visit you.

She didn't even need to say anything as she nodded toward the left, allowing him to proceed further without writing anything down. Gratitude flashed in Simon's eyes as he ran down the halls, up the stairs, to the 4th floor.

He almost stumbled over his own feet as he reached your room, swiftly opening the door as the beeping of a heart monitor met his ears. There you were, still lying in bed with an oxygen mask over your face. Most of your wounds have healed up; only parts of your body are being bandaged up now. Simon's feet guided him towards the bed, tears welling up in his eyes as he once again sat down on the chair next to your bedside.

"Hey, love." He spoke softly while taking your hand in his. "Sorry for taking so long this time." Simon swallowed thickly. "The captain has given me some time off, which means I get to spend more time with you." His body began to shake as his bottom lip trembled.

"I'd love to treat you to lunch. We could go to your favorite place. With the silly black cat, you love so much." Simon's voice began to crack, hot tears streaming down his face as he held onto your hand. "I miss you so much, baby. Please… come back to me." He pleaded between sobs. You, however, remained unresponsive, the soft sounds of your breathing being the only thing to answer him.

Simon stayed by your bedside for the next 5 hours, talking to you and even telling some of his awful jokes to keep the one-sided conversation going. A part of him hoped that somehow you'd be able to hear him. Around 7 p.m., the same elderly nurse who had greeted and helped Simon whenever he came to visit you came into the room.

"It's time to go home, Mr. Riley." She spoke softly. Simon swallowed as he nodded. He stood up from the chair as he bent down to press a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be here again tomorrow, love." Simon moved himself away from the bed, passing the elderly nurse as he made his way towards the door.

"…Simon?"

Simon froze.

His hand hovered over the doorknob as his eyes widened. He heard the elderly nurse gasp, accompanied by a pair of quick footsteps going towards the bed. Your bed. Simon turned around agonizingly slowly, his own eyes filled with shock, as he was met with the sight that he had longed for ever since you ended up here.

You were looking at him, those big eyes he came to love filling with tears as you reached out to him.

It was then that Simon's heart started to beat again.

[forusomimiya]

𝔽𝕠𝕦𝕣’𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕕

⚜️𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘮𝘴𝘣𝘺4!𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘱 𝘹 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

⚜️𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

⚜️𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,4𝘬

⚜️𝘤𝘸: 𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘯𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢. (¡𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘖𝘙𝘚 𝘋𝘖𝘕𝘛 𝘙𝘌𝘈𝘋 𝘐𝘛!)

You don't remember how you ended up here, or maybe you do, but you don't remember what led you to make this decision, what went through your wonderful head making you think this would be a good idea.

Because it wasn't just good, it was the best.

A couple of drinks after your first face-to-face game with the team, glances and approaches, brought you, the rookie manager of the black jackals and the four worst men you could have ever met, to spend "a little good time" at your hotel.

It wasn't the first time they got together and talked about how you flirted with each of them or how you enticed them to have a quick, sneaky encounter in the locker room. What they didn't know is that while they were getting hard talking about you, you were in your room cumming on your fingers more than three times in a row, imagining an orgy with them.

And there you were, rejoicing and getting what you had wanted to happen for months.

"Little whore in heat... if you're going to keep looking at me like that while 'm fucking that mouth, I swear I'm going to make a mess on yar pretty face. And I don't think Sakusa likes it when someone messes up what's his, do you Omi-kun?" Atsumu's words are choppy with each thrust and with each touch of his tip at the end of your throat. His muscles begin to weaken but for his life, he will not stop until he has accomplished his goal.

"Just shut your fucking mouth and keep going, Miya. It keeps getting tighter every time you go in deeper."

"Ignore him Atsumu. Down here I can see how he enjoys every praise you give her" you only have a second to switch from focusing on Atsumu's cock to Hinata's and Sakusa's, both alternating to hit your fragile spot and making you moan long and hard as you gargle with Atsumu's cock.

"Holy fuck, so pretty like that… drooling all over my cock…” you moan in pain as you open your mouth wider. Your jaw will remind you tomorrow. "Awww… it hurts… Easy doll, I'll cum in no time and your mouth can rest. But first let me torture ya some more." His hips slam faster into your mouth, causing you to gag and your throat to itch, before you start to tear up.

"Hah, she's already in tears. Poor baby… maybe three cocks aren't enough for her. Maybe ya should slow down your movements, Atsumu…. What do you think? I'd like to have her mouth intact for a while from now" deaf ears to the words of Bokuto, who stands to the side squeezing the base of his cock and stroking the tip, mesmerised by the movement of your tits bouncing back and forth. Atsumu's hands on the back of your neck force you deeper into him, and even though it's your first time sucking him, you know what it means, so you look up and confirm your intuition when you see his eyebrows draw together and his mouth form an "O".

"Ahh keep crying… keep crying for my cock… nngh f-fuck! Keep it up, keep it up!" Quickly the thick, warm liquid runs down your throat and you can only continue to watch him, biting his lip as he is consumed by pleasure and continues to spill now onto your tongue. You swallow, frowning at the bitter taste. It's not pleasant, but fuck, you're a slut at sex, and you like to show it off.

"Damn… you swallowed it?" You nod and lick the remainder left on your lips, sobbing and whimpering because even though your mouth is now empty, your pussy is still filled by two cocks. "Good girl" you smile as he strokes your head, enticing you to close your eyes and appreciate his sweet touch. Atsumu could change his ways with you whenever he wanted.

You were fascinated by the way he was sometimes gentle with you in training, giving you his attention and care. Giving you advice on how to improve or cheering you up when you were down. Other times, he would catch you off guard from behind when no one was watching and he would fawn in your ear about what a good girl you were when you offered him water or towels to wipe off your sweat. He always said he'd thank you later, but it never happened. Until now.

Men who have you dripping, panting and cursing bring you back to enjoy them.

"M-more please… want more, so good…" Sakusa squeezes your hips and increases the strokes, obeying your pleas, grunting with each time you clench around him.

"Fuck… gonna fill this fucking pussy to the last drop. You're taking me so well that i think i wanna do it again…" but you can't take any more. The support of your arms on the bed trembles with each thrust, and the speed and joy of feeling the friction of both cocks in you doesn't help. "Just a little more kitten, just a little more…". You moan louder and louder and beg to go faster, though Hinata, slowly torturing you and dismissing that option, continues to enjoy every inch of your pussy opening up for him, willing to spend the time needed.

"P-please… faster… more - faster."

"Sshh be good for us baby, just have fun and keep squeezing for us, yeah? We promise to fill you up real soon kitty, just a - little bit - more."

You nod unconsciously. You can't stop thinking about how badly you want to cum all over them. And fuck, Bokuto hasn't even touched you yet, and you crave it, you need him to humiliate you and reward you for how well you're behaving. There's still time to enjoy him.

"I can't take it anymore… need her now." Bokuto steps in front of you and from his position you can see what he wants to do, so you stick out your tongue and wait.

"Hah, did you see that? She's as desperate as we thought. Didn't you get enough of mine that now you want Bokkun's?" you look sideways at the blond, who chuckles and grabs you by the chin, moving you in his direction and ordering you. "Now, open up."

The next thing that happens, comes very quickly.

You don't lose eye contact with Atsumu as he drops a trickle of saliva into your mouth. Bokuto, too aroused by the scene with the blond, and by the two partners warning that they are close to cumming, points in the direction of your tits and without control over himself, regretting it, is the next to do it. The warmth of the fluid and how dirty it makes you feel, makes you come and brings you closer to orgasm, with no interest in alerting the men who, by the pressure on their cocks and your uncontrolled leakage, know what is going on.

"Ahh fuck, she's cumming, she's cumming! hah- so tight…" Hinata is next to follow you, letting his cum leak out of your pussy and drip onto it, leading Sakusa to hopelessly let himself go.

"Yeahh, i love it… so wet… you're all mine, you hear me? Fucking mine" Emptying himself completely as he admires how underneath his cock white liquid is still oozing out, possibly a mixture of all three.

You take a few seconds to breathe, still on top of Hinata, who smiles at you as she lies slumped on the bed. You smile back with what little energy you have left, and thinking about it, you miss feeling full again, and underappreciated, in some ways. You think about what you're going to do, but then you remember that you've come here to play, and that you have a side to you that they haven't known yet, and you have to put it into practice.

When Sakusa and Hinata have risen from the bed, you crawl to the end of it and kneel down, staring at them one by one and waiting for them to know what you want. Bokuto seems to be the only one who notices your intentions, which leads him to smile at you for it and approach you with the same.

"Coming for more?" You nod cradling yourself against his hand as he caresses your cheek. Bokuto and the rest can't stop devouring you with their eyes. It was no wonder; a mess covered in tears and semen, with teeth marks at your neck and finger marks on your buttocks. More than one couldn't help but take a breather to get back into bed again.

"We didn't think we had such a docile manager…" Atsumu's voice, sitting behind you, prompts you to lean back against his chest, letting out small gasps, satisfied with the result. You are ready for round two.

"We'll care you for a while longer, if that's what you want."

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@planetmarz

A.N.: Okay, is this an open ending TO A SEQUEL? I don't want to deceive myself but, I would love to do a sequel. I'm not very satisfied with the result, cause I think I'm not very good narrating a situation, and I'm better at making short scenes, so… I'll have to see how much appreciation this short fic has and consider making a last and second part 🫡

[fauustic]

hi hi! i'm not very active on tumblr anymore but i came back for miguel o'hara and your snippets are what are keeping me alive at the very moment, is it alright if i request for some miguel fluff?

the prompt is that he tries really hard to keep his "touch-starvedness" unnoticeable but reader makes that very hard for him because even brushing shoulders and hands is enough to send him into cardiac arrest. it all goes to hell when reader gets genuinely concerned for him and twists into reader giving miguel the gentle touch he deserves :3

(( I loved this ask so much... I will definitely do a different concept with this idea to bring it more justice! thank you for your request, so wonderful nonetheless! ))

my requests are still open!! i didn't proofread this one so if there are any mistakes sorry!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

fluff. miguel, so desperately touch-starved, yearns for any touch he can’t get. you unknowingly give it to him.

warnings: jealous and slightly violent miguel, perhaps slightly suggestive? MAINLY FLUFF THOUGH!! HE LOVES YOU SM!! anyhow he’s just a little silly and painfully in love with his co-worker ..

word count: 2852

A soft bump met your shoulders, tilting the vial you held ever so delicately with much more force than anticipated from the unexpected collision. The goggles resting upon your nose slanted from the impact as the burst of color within the flask splashed onto your lab coat. A frustrated groan erupted from your lips as a light chuckle sounded from right beside you. 

“Jeez– this isn’t funny Miguel!” You couldn’t help but whine while hurriedly cleaning up your lab station before anyone from a different department of Alchemax could see your slip-up. The vial that held a mysterious substance wasn’t anything to worry about, it was a prototype for a more ecologically efficient paint alternative to further the health of citizens amongst Nueva York– but the progress being wiped away over something as small as a little bump on the shoulder almost made you fall to your knees. 

Being hired as a rookie chemist to the most successful chemical corporation in existence had you sweating bullets over your every move– not even allowing yourself to step foot in the break room in fear that you’d have to reiterate what you have done during your time here. Which was much less accomplished than your assigned veteran lab partner, who always offered to help bring your concepts to fruition– but you declined with ease because you wanted to feel worthy to the department you were assigned.

This didn’t stop Miguel from coincidentally being a step behind your movements always, despite your insistence that you had everything under control.

It was nerve-wracking, feeling his gaze study you a bit too hard as you measured how clean a sample of underground Nueva York was in the dim light of a late night shift. He’d make quips, soft against your exhausted temple while Miguel would finish the rest of your unfinished goals. Drifting off into the embrace of sleep, your eyes would crack open ever so slightly as he examined your work with a level of admiration in his gaze you've never noticed fully awake– tinkering and fiddling with whatever environmentally-productive project you had going on that shift. The last recollection of the night would be the touch of Miguel’s knuckles grazing your shoulders, a jacket wrapping around your back like a blanket. The smell of praline alongside bergamot orange stuck to your body like a shadow as you slumped awake the following morning, rushing home to shower and get ready for the shift you had the upcoming afternoon.

Following the next day, Miguel had a subtle smile upon his features as you returned his jacket with a flustered expression he’s never seen from you. Excitement bubbled against his chest like a shaken-up soda as he observed the slight bow of your head in appreciation, hands atop his scarred grasp that held onto the jacket you returned. You never caught the deep breaths flooding his lungs as the two of you separated, his jacket held tightly against his hammering heart. “I, I need to go grab a coffee–” Miguel muttered underneath his breath, leaving before you could even acknowledge his dismissal. Confusion dazed your focus, remembering the last time you asked if he had wanted any coffee he mentioned he didn’t even like the caffeinated drink in the first place. Told you it made his insomnia worse.

The both of you had grown closer ever since that experience as surprising as it was, due to his cocky yet cold attitude usually clashing against your focus. If it wasn’t for his seriousness, the two of you would be bickering like partners forced to work on a group project in grade school. Which brought you back to the present, cleaning up the mess he had technically created due to bumping into you. A frown etched upon his face, stress lines from his hundreds of late shifts growing prominent at the tip of his lips. “I was doing something important– and you waltz in and just knock it all over?”

“‘Didn’t mean to, conejito.” Miguel replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone, waving off his actions like every other time he's accidentally skewed your focus. "But I'm more than willing to fix what I did if you just stop acting like a spooked animal." It rolled off his tongue like an insult, but you knew that's just how he spoke. Short and blunt, with little quips towards anyone who annoys him just briefly. Just like every other co-worker, despite the amount of time the two of you have spent together, you always would get a taste of his attitude before you snapped right back at him.

But today, you were tired and running off of pure coffee as the sun began to set. Bickering with Miguel was something you wanted to stray away from at the time being. So you caved, giving him a gesture to come closer to you. "You can't help if you are standing seven feet away from me, O'Hara." You told him the obvious, readjusting the goggles that sat atop your nose while you went over the variables involved with your test. 

For the first time in response to your sarcasm, Miguel was silent. Seconds ticked by as you grew more invested in resuming from where you left off, the little quarrel leaving your mind as soon as it came. You thought he'd ignore you and end up doing his own thing in your shared lab, but the distinct footfalls from his leather shoes moving closer after the rare quietness proved you wrong.

Miguel slid up right beside your hunched stance, close enough that the warmth from his arms met your wrists but not close enough where his rolled-up sleeves would collide against the fabric fitted against your arms.

You stood there, measuring the exact precise measurements from before with the several natural ingredients surrounding the both of you. And Miguel just watched, at least that's what you assumed, because that burning gaze of his seeped into the back of your head and sizzled against your fingertips working painstakingly slow mixing and working against the organic compounds. Nervousness prickled your skin, goosebumps following in its wake.

Due to your posture, when you snapped your attention to him you couldn't help but look up. Miguel's features were soft, an expression that you've never seen on him meeting your eyes. He was looking down at you, breathing in sleepily while subsciously leaning his body into your space. The unusual mannerism caught your attention with haste, and you were about to question if he was feeling okay before he perked up like he got shocked.

His gaze was distant until he realized you were looking straight at him– immediately looking off towards the vials you had splayed in front of you like he was caught doing something wrong. You couldn't help but frown while you watched Miguel exhale deeply, his index and thumb meeting the bridge of his nose in a habit you've noticed throughout your time here. Miguel was stressed. 

"Hey, it's okay that you messed up." The forgiveness falling from your lips only made him curl into himself more. Worry clouded your mind at seeing him so worked up, something you were so unfamiliar with. Usually, Miguel expressed himself in abrupt irritation that you always tried to help him through– the silent loathing almost made you ask him to go home out of concern. "Mistakes happen in the lab, Miguel. Please don't beat yourself up.

Soft graze meeting his shoulder, his body tensed up at the unexpected attempt of your's that was made to comfort him. The both of you danced around each other at best, the most contact from one another would be leading his movements with your own hold onto his hands while instructing assistance. Miguel's mouth fell agape, his unusually sharp canines he kept away was brought to your attention from the dim light highlighting his features. A gasp followed as your hand met his cheek while aiming for his forehead, which he tried to cover up with a cough. 

"What are you doing–" He hissed out in a mess as the heat blooming from his cheeks set your own touch aflame. You hushed him, which he obliged without a word. Strange, you thought to yourself again. He never acts like this towards anyone, let alone get this close to another chemist within the building of Alchemax.

Palm brushing against the strands of hair blessing his forehead, you checked his temperature while his eyes fluttered close. "I'm checking your temperature, Miguel." You murmured against his jaw, boosting your height on your tiptoes in order to reach his forehead. "You've been off today, it's concerning." 

"I'm fine," He muttered into the space between you, beginning to distance himself from your touch until your free hand met his other shoulder. It was as if a weight held him into place, grounding him within your touch as he shakily dug his fingers into his black dress-pants. You hadn't noticed the subtle slices into his thighs from his claws. Miguel's resolve was failing terribly.

His breath, quick and shallow, met the skin of your ear. It tickled. Hot air crashed into your contrasting cold flesh, digging into your nerves like boiling water.

Once your skin met his temple, he pushed against your touch like you were the only thing keeping himself afloat. His grasp met your elbow while the other relied on the counter for support. "Just feeling a bit under the weather." Miguel managed to mumble, brow furrowing as if he was in pain– never once did you catch the reddened hue painting his face and flustered glint in his eye.

"I've been telling you to stop overworking yourself," you scold him softly, shaking his grasp on your elbow just to take his hands into yours. "How much sleep have you gotten recently?" The question makes him cringe, the dark circles around his eyes as prominent as ever.

"Not enough." He admitted.

"You know that's not good for you." You reminded him with a frown. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his skin, warm and marred from his work with all sorts of scientific junk, caressed your knuckles with his thumb. He had calmed down as time ticked by, a sleepiness that clung onto him as darkness painted the canvas beyond the window of your floor. A huff of air escaped his lips as he rested his cheek against the cool of the lab table, safely distanced from what you were working on. Miguel’s hand didn’t dare move from your grasp, and you didn’t think about moving either. Miguel was slowly becoming a good friend of your’s, if something so small as a little comfort was needed you were more than willing to help.

“Yeah, yeah.” Was all he said. Silence dawned over the both of you as you resumed back to fixing up his mistakes. The dim light filled words left unsaid with a soft ambience, vials clinging against each other gently while liquids poured into one another. The night ended with you successfully conjuring up an ecological alternative to whatever paint Nueva had used before, which will certainly be good on your reports– and Miguel ended up getting the rest he needed.

You had pulled up a chair for him long ago, and he took it without a word. Slumped against your lab station, each time you’d try to pull away from him he’d mumble out a little, “no, please– stay here.” with his eyes still fluttered shut. He didn’t drool or snore, in fact it was a bit concerning how quiet he was as slumber took him. Almost like a vampire in his coffin, the idea of Miguel dressing up as Dracula made you stifle a laugh against the back of your free hand. Maybe you’d have to convince him to dress up for the next corporate Halloween event, as silly as it would be.

Miguel’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, mumbling out incoherency as your hand anchored him to this world. The light reminder of success infiltrated your senses as the smell of beeswax and linseed oil– honey and lemon. You’d already be on your way back home if Miguel didn't have his fingers intertwined with yours, murmuring things you’d never imagine him to say. It made your stomach churn, a wobbly smile meeting your lips as you laughed off his sleepy nonsense.

The fun ended too quickly it felt, as he suddenly stretched and groaned– his hand pulling you a little with him. The weight on him snapped him awake, senses kicking into overdrive to clear his confusion. Once he realized he was in the safety of the lab he shared with you, Miguel visibly relaxed. When his gaze met your interlocked fingers, he almost fell out of his chair.

Miguel whispers out your name in an embarrassed mess, wrapping his free hand around his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. But you merely hummed an automatic response, and he couldn’t help but shake the thoughts clouding his consciousness. You were affecting him in a way that almost left him frozen, emotions that felt close to a high rushed into his brain and messed with any rationality he was able to clutch. Miguel’s claws he kept at bay threatened to unsheathe into your knuckles as warmth painted his features into an unbearable heat.

By the time he had fully woken up, you were dozing off yourself. 

Elbow propped against the counter while your head rested on your hand, drool etched the side of your lips as the world of dreams scooped you up and cradled you lovingly. You were blissfully aware of the carnal gaze of your lab partner, soaking in your soft, resting expression like a full-course meal. His heart ached painfully at a small snore that escaped his lips.

When it came to you, it’s almost as if he had a bad case of cute aggression on top of the painful crush that held him in a chokehold.

Every brush of your shoulder meeting his own short circuited his every thought, shocking his cold attitude into a soft spot for you. Every graze upon his hands, with that mouth of yours snapping at him with a certain playfulness, had him melting against you like putty. And here you were, spending the night with him in the stiff chairs of the lab simply because he had told you to in his exhausted stupor. 

Miguel almost hyperventilated at how nice you were to him, grasp tightening on your hand every so slightly. He wanted all of you, he realized, as his lips came into contact with your knuckles. 

Were you as sweet as always with the others in your shared department? Did you give them a piece of your mind, but then turned around with open arms and a hug when something went right? Did you share your secrets in the comfort of being busy, finding companionship with the one helping you who wasn’t him?

Miguel kissed your finger-tips as a soft gasp escaped your drooling lips, breathing in your scent like it was keeping him from unravelling altogether. The thoughts of someone else so close to you made his skin crawl and the urge to dig his claws within flesh. An insistent voice growled in the back of his head, “protect, closer, closer, need.”

It was his voice, snarling like a devil on his shoulder whenever he was clouded with your embrace. He craved your touch like it was a necessity to live, as important to breathe. His fangs trailed your wrist and your hold tightened onto his own hard instinctively. A pleased hum rolled off his tongue, you were just like a bunny caught into a trap. Prey at his mercy.

But he pulled away before he was too into his own head and did something he shouldn’t. Miguel wanted to see your nervous, wide-eyes gaze for himself when he offered to kiss you– or practically begged you to when the time came. In no way would he allow himself to take away a moment so special between the two of you.

So Miguel swiped away the drool dripping down your chin, bringing his thumb that delicately grazed your face onto his tongue and tasted your spit for himself. It was sweet, like you had just finished chewing down a piece of pink bubblegum hours ago– and that knowledge alone almost sent him off the edge of any human thought he had left.

So he collected himself, soothing out his lab coat before bringing a palm against his hair to smooth it back out. With a light smile and a deep breath, he invaded your space with a gentleness that rivalled a melodious tune.

Shaking you awake, Miguel brought his claws to your hair and raked through the curls. The action took you both by surprise, by you couldn’t help but purr a sleepy “hello, silly,” at the sight of waking up to his sleep-ridden self. He only chuckled, a red painting his ears that you couldn’t see.

“Hello to you too, mi corazón. I’ll help you get home.”

[auspicioustidings]

https://www.tumblr.com/auspicioustidings/734619885087375360/i-cannot-write-for-shit-right-now-so-any-little

Hmmmm I’m seeing so many x single mom readers and not sure if this is something you’re even interested in BUT

Simon meeting his pretty new neighbor while she’s moving I and realizes she is either a.) heavily pregnant or b.) has a very young baby so Simon goes “hmmmm mine now :)” and helps her out a little? (Alternatively, if you don’t wanna do Simon for this, then maybe Price?)

(Also if you haven’t read @peachesofteal’s Light On fic, Simon x single mom reader, I implore if you to do so!!! It’s so good)

Peaches Light On fics, and I am being so deadass serious, give me such a flood of serotonin any time I see a new one. Everyone get your butt over there because they are the standard for single mother content as far as I am concerned!

That being said, I've put a bit of a twist on this so it's not really what you requested at all, sorry :') I could not do a similar idea to Peaches because there is nothing I can do to improve perfection!

Tactical Action

Words: 1.1k

CWs: mentions of death

“It's not a shame Price, it's fucking ridiculous.”

Simon Riley was furious looking at the paperwork. It wasn't often that TF141 kept tabs on a promising rookie so when they did he expected nothing but excellence. What he did not expect was a large ‘Early Service Leaver’ stamp over an otherwise exemplary record.

“Their brother died in that warship collision, can't blame them for wanting out.”

“My brother was murdered, I kept fucking going.”

He had met you once when Johnny had dragged him. His Sergeant was both excited and annoyed that someone had gotten the new record for the 3rd selection phase. It made sense to get some feel for you then, if you were as good at escape, evasion and tactical questioning as the test scores suggested then the 141 needed to have you on their radar because the PMCs certainly would. 

You were a determined thing, shoulders back and addressing them with just the right amount of respect. Not arrogant, but not a pushover. Soap had been talking about how much he wanted to get his hands on you the whole drive back to base because he was a horny idiot and you were a challenge he found intriguing. Simon had just rolled his eyes and added your record to the small pile in Price's office. 

He knew a little of your background. Both parents gone, one sibling in the navy. Well one sibling now KIA. He could have understood taking leave, but to quit entirely? It made him angry, he thought it was a waste of potential. Price could see how it affected him and he sighed. 

“Go talk to them then. But do not get yourself reported for harassment and intimidation Simon, if they don't want back in then we make our peace with that.”

That was all the permission he needed. He probably should have taken Soap really, someone who could be comforting and coax you back. But fuck it, you were supposed to be good under pressure so he was going to give you some hard damn advice on not bloody giving up.

–

Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how you felt. This was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you were not going to just give up. You couldn't, not with this tiny thing relying on you. 

She had never even got to meet her parents. Your brother died just before the due date in that accident and then his girlfriend had died from complications in childbirth. You had promised her you would look after their baby if anything happened, made an oath that you'd not let her parents anywhere near such an innocent little thing. 

So you were on your own with nothing but grief and exhaustion and an ever dwindling death in service payment. They would pay part of your brother's pension out each month at least for the baby, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough to give her a life she deserved. She certainly deserved her parents and not her fathers ill equipped sibling, but you could only do your best even with the knowledge it would never be enough. 

You flinched when there was a hard knock at the door of your flat, freezing but taking a breath when the baby remained sleeping in your arms. You needed to move at one point you knew, a flat in a bit of a rough area was fine for a soldier (ex-soldier you reminded yourself) but not so much for a baby. 

The security you had upgraded as best you could at the moment and you checked the door camera to see Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. You had met him briefly once, but what was a legend like him doing here? Shit. You knew you looked a wreck but it wasn't like you could ignore him so you opened the door, bouncing baby girl gently to keep her sleeping. 

Simon's planned tirade died the moment he saw the situation. You had a baby. Oh that changed his tirade significantly. Your marital status had listed single, so he could only assume you had gotten yourself knocked up by some casual hookup. That was unacceptable in a soldier, so bloody stupid. 

“Shit” you cursed when she woke up, heading back inside and giving him a nod of invite.

You bounced her and tried to coo at her to go back to sleep. To please God go back to sleep. You never knew what she wanted, it felt like whatever you did was always wrong. And of course then she started wailing and the Lieutenant was in your flat closing the door behind him witnessing your absolute failure to take care of a baby. 

“Oh for Christ sake, give her here.”

Simon took the baby and hoisted the little thing up onto his shoulder, rubbing hard at her back. 

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“I- well, just before you got here. 10 minutes ago maybe? Just got her to sleep.”

“Did you burp her?”

“Oh. I…” you replied, straining yourself in an attempt not to cry. “No. I forgot.”

While his eyes were sharp on you his hands and voice were gentle and soothing for the baby. He was good at this. Did he have kids? Fuck was everyone just innately good at caring for babies but you? 

“Didn't stop to think if you could take care of her before having her?” 

“She's not mine. Well I suppose she is. I'm her only living relative, or only decent one at least. I, um… that warship accident from a few months back. My brother died during it and her mum passed during the birth. I'm her legal guardian now. I'm what she has sir, it was the best tactical action given the circumstance” you said, straightening up despite your exhaustion and prolonged terror at being responsible for such an innocent little thing. 

Simon cocked his head to the side as the baby on his shoulder burped and gurgled, now trying to get back to sleep. You were still a soldier he saw then, you were fighting back your emotions to give him a report on the situation. He reevaluated after the sitrep and took a moment to find the best course of action.

“Marry me then.”

“Sir?”

“We can get it done tomorrow. Might take a bit of time to get a decent house but we'll stay in my flat until then, better area. Still going to be out on assignment a lot but any death benefit would go to you and the widows pension would set you up for life. I'm what you have rookie, it's the best tactical action.”

“Yes sir.”

[ptn-imagines]

hey hey, can i request zoya, deren and langley walking in on chief trying on their outfits :3

I usually try not to get too spicy unless it's explicitly requested, but Zoya's part of this definitely has some spice (though not explicit) so be warned of that!

Walking in on Chief trying on their outfit

Zoya

Chief Is In Trouble. In a hot way.

She doesn't knock before entering, swagger in her step as she strolls in like she owns the place. Seeing Chief wearing her clothes does stop her in place, but the look in her gaze is both playful and hungry, rather than surprised.

She spends a long moment taking in the sight before her, her clothes far too large on Chief's body. Still, she seems to like it, judging by the way she licks her lips.

She finally speaks, leaning against the doorframe as she does. “Like my clothes, do you, Chief?” she teases. “How about we get some in your size? You can hardly decide if you like it with it hanging on the floor like that.” She laughs at Chief's blushing face as they try to stammer out a reply.

It's hyperbole, of course, but it only takes a few days before she shows up with a copy of her outfit in Chief's size. She'll turn her back if Chief asks, but if given the chance, she is absolutely watching Chief put the clothes on.

Once Chief is dressed, Zoya's gaze quickly sharpens to that of a hungry predator, and her teeth suddenly seem like fangs as she grins, appraising like she's looking at her next meal.

“You look good, Chief. Big fan of how it shows off your body, even if you don't exactly have my build.”

It makes Chief blush, but it's true. Zoya does like it. Seeing Chief dressed in her clothes… It's certainly awakened the hunger inside the wolf.

Langley

Once again, Chief Is In Trouble. But it's in a different way this time.

As soon as Langley sees Chief putting on her clothes, a slow smirk spreads across her face. “Rookie, I don't recall giving you permission to touch my things… Let alone my clothes.”

Chief turns bright red, flailing for an explanation. Langley only watches, her smirk growing ever wider; she enjoys watching Chief squirm like this.

Once she's had her fill of Chief's torment, though, she gestures for them to be quiet, and they quickly silence themself. “I'm willing to forgive this transgression, rookie, if you do something for me.”

It's a trap, Chief is sure of it, but Langley's punishments are known for being brutal, so they don't want to risk the alternative. Still, they're surprised when Langley's request is to finish dressing up and sit down in their desk chair, doing their best impression of her. It doesn't make sense to them, but they comply anyway.

They realize the reason behind the strange request when Langley snaps a photo of them with her phone, and they flush red to their ears. The picture is set to Langley's background, and she teases them about how cute it would look framed on her desk – a subtle warning not to touch her things without permission again.

Deren

Deren definitely has the most lowkey reaction of the three. She stumbles across Chief looking for the very clothes they were trying on, funnily enough.

When she walks into the room, midway through a sentence, it takes her brain a couple of seconds to process what she's seeing. Once she does, though, confusion is her primary emotion rather than embarrassment. “Uh, Chief? Why are you wearing my clothes?”

She's surprised when Chief says they wanted to see how they looked in them. “Well, you'd look good in anything, but… Why my clothes? They're nothing special. I can get you a hundred different outfits that'd look better than my stuff.”

A very flustered Chief has to explain that their interest in the clothes is largely due to the fact that they are Deren's clothes. The director is taken aback at first, but then she laughs.

“Is that so? Well, sure, go ahead. I won't stop you, so long as I get a front row seat~”

Deren's gaze on the Chief is still flustering, but she's a lot less intense than the other two would have been. When Chief apologizes to her afterwards, she waves it off, saying Chief can wear her clothes anytime, she doesn't care. It's the truth, and of course, it doesn't hurt that Chief looks good in her clothes.

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (3)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

AO3 Link

Chapter 3: Venture

As the days flew by, quickly turning into weeks and the weeks culminating in months, Leon grew busier, taking on additional responsibilities from his colleagues. Just as you had predicted, he was more than qualified and capable of handling his own in the role of a police officer. Despite that, he always found the time to visit your shop, even if it was for a quick coffee break during a night shift. No matter how grueling it was, he would be there. Sometimes, he would even get yelled at by his patrol partner for taking too long, though they were often placated by a free pick-me-up you doled out, which Leon insisted on footing the bill without fail.

One of these nights, he strolled in with Lieutenant Branagh, chatting jovially as they grabbed the usual front row seats.

“How’s my favorite barista doing?” Marvin greeted you, unclasping his arms as he brought you in for a quick hug over the counter.

“Not too shabby, how about you? How’s the girls?”

Leon eyed the two of you curiously; the familiarity with which you interacted with each other catching him slightly off-guard.

“They’re doing great, growing up so fast. My eldest might surpass her old man in a year’s time—just you wait,” he chortled, settling himself in.

“Remember her?” He passed you a recent photo of his daughter from his wallet.

“No way,” you guffawed, feeling the glossy paper nestle itself between your fingers. “She’s changed so much!”

“She’s a fine, young lady now, with a good head over her shoulders,” he responded, his eyes brimming with pride. “Just like yourself.”

“Thanks Marv,” you said, your response heartfelt as you returned the photo to him. “So, the usual?”

Rapping his fingers rhythmically on the table, he confirmed, “The usual.”

“Hey.” It was soft, unassuming, and so unapologetically Leon. 

A subtle smile broke out across his lips as he nodded at you. No hug—maybe it was too soon for hugs and he was not comfortable enough.

“Hey,” you acknowledged, nodding back with a faint smile of your own.

“I wish I could say ‘the usual’, but I don’t have one yet,” he admitted. “By the way, I’m getting this round.” He turned and peered over at Marvin who stood up halfway to protest.

“Naw, come on, put your money away, boy,” the older man commanded.

But Leon was not having any of it. “I insist, Lieutenant.” Holding his hand up before Marvin, he continued, “These few months, you’ve gone out of the way to mentor and support me. It’s the least I could do.”

At this, Marvin raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, then I’ll accept your offer graciously, rookie.”

You saw Leon scoff lightly at the nickname as he turned his attention towards you, his features mellowing. “I’ll take whatever you brew for me tonight,” he decided.

Just as you spun around to complete the order, he murmured, the lilt of his voice carried across by the wind, “It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Leon,” you whispered back, noticing the crinkle in his eyes, the way he subconsciously puffed out his chest, and the fleeting glimpse of happiness that washed over his face.

Marvin glanced between the two of you as a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, but he said nothing, trusting in the passage of time to make its intentions clear.

When you served their drinks, Marvin slurped his down voraciously. “Ooh, the kick is still there. De-licious!” he exclaimed.

“What’s that?” Leon quizzed.

“Kopi Jahe—coffee and ginger,” Marvin clarified. “It’s Indonesian, if I’m not wrong. Perfect for my lactose-intolerant stomach.” He patted his belly to emphasize his point.

“Whatcha get?” he asked in return.

The younger officer blushed as he looked at you. “Guess I’ll have to taste it to find out.”

As always, he sniffed it before taking a tentative sip from the cup. “Mmm…” His eyes squeezed shut while he focused on the flavors. “Hmm…”

“Mint?” His bright blues greeted you again.

“Coffee, mint and honey,” you affirmed, flourishing it with a name, “Fire and Ice.”

Before he had a chance to respond, the door chime rang, and your eyes darted to your next customer of the night.

Ben. Good ol’ Ben Bertolucci.

“A Triple Espresso, please,” he called out, already striding towards his usual sitting corner, while simultaneously giving the two policemen a long, hard look. 

“Evening, officers,” he said curtly, giving them a sharp nod. They tipped their hats back, paying no mind to his soured mood as they dived into another conversation of their own.

Firing up the coffee machine, you ground the beans into a fine powder and let the pressurized hot water seep through the puck. The richly aromatic smell of a dark roast filled the air as the concentrated, viscous liquid dripped into the awaiting demitasse.

During this intermediary period, you unwittingly eavesdropped on the friendly chat between the officers.

“How do you know her again, Lieutenant?”

“Oh, I’ve been here a good number of times back in the day. Times when I really needed it. Times when all I wanted was a comforting drink and a space to sort out my mess. I happened to stumble across this shop—”

“Me too.”

“Hmpf, guess it’s that kinda place… let’s count ourselves lucky then. Anyway, enough about me. What about you?”

“Uh, what about me, sir?”

“You got any plans for your future, son? Pretty sure you didn’t just end up in Raccoon City with those perfect grades.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I guess. Now that you put it that way, uh, I’ve always wanted to investigate the Arklay Murders.”

“The Arklay Murders, huh? Shooting for the detective route?”

“You could say that.”

“Well, have you ever considered applying for S.T.A.R.S.?”

“Wh-what? Um, no, sir. Didn’t think I would qualify for something like that yet.”

“I’ve seen how you work. You're a fast learner, diligent, and competent. I know talent when I see it. You just need to work on your confidence a little, rookie. Keep this up and you’ll have my letter of recommendation on your desk by next year.”

“Wow, th-thanks, Lieutenant… I’m just not sure—”

“Look, you don’t have to make a decision now. All I’m asking is for you to think about it, alright?”

Reluctantly tearing yourself away from the rest of the discussion, you picked up the demitasse, which seemed to weigh like stone as you trudged over to Ben, setting it down on his makeshift desk. Heaps of documents were strewn across its surface in a haphazard manner as he scribbled furiously on his notepad, circling items in a red marker.

“Oh, hey, thanks,” he mumbled, still absorbed in his writing. “Hope you don’t mind, but it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Not at all, Ben,” you said, frowning at the grainy images of what appeared to be the Chief of Police, Brian Irons, in the background.

When he saw you peeking at his work, he shuffled apprehensively in his seat, attempting to use his arm to block your view. “Sorry, but this is top secret stuff.”

“I understand,” you replied empathetically. “Don’t worry, it’s safe with me.”

He snorted at your remark, but eased up, absentmindedly stroking his beard as he spoke, “Appreciate it. Don’t wanna rub people the wrong way, like those folks over there.” He jutted his chin out in Leon and Marvin’s direction.

“Seems like the RPD has taken a liking to this place,” he added with a hint of disdain.

You shook your head and laughed. “Not all of my customers are police officers, Ben.”

Narrowing his eyes at the two, he piped up, “Just watch yourself, that’s my advice. In my world, they’re pigs—the whole lot of ’em. Probably why the term ‘ACAB’ exists, eh?” He wagged his finger. “Food for thought.”

“You’ve probably seen a lot of abuse in your line of work,” you speculated, figuring that his poor experience with the force had shaped his current opinion.

“No shit,” he huffed before composing himself. “Well, as far as I can tell, Branagh’s… tolerable. Dull, but tolerable. The kid over there though, I don’t trust him, seems a bit green.”

You glanced over at Leon briefly. Almost as if he sensed your presence, his eyes shifted away from Marvin, colliding with yours, and a smile tinged with uncertainty unfolded on his face.

He’ll come into his own, you thought, smiling back reassuringly.

“So…” 

Ben’s gruff voice snapped you out of your reverie as you faced him again, but you didn’t miss a beat. “So, you’re obviously swamped. Ever imagined hiring an intern?”

“Why? Having second thoughts about your business?” he smirked in amusement.

“Nah, just a suggestion,” you replied blithely as you clutched the tray across your chest and tottered back to the counter. “You should put a call out. I’m sure a bunch of people would be interested in the work you do.”

Back at the other table, Marvin rose to leave, slapping Leon’s back encouragingly. “Well, it’s been a pleasure, but if I don’t head home in the next five minutes, I’ll end up on the sofa tonight.”

After you said your goodbyes, Leon leaned against the side of the counter, adjusting the hem of his uniform as he looked between the door and you, seemingly debating whether he should call it a night too. However, he decided otherwise.

“Um, you don’t mind if I stay a little longer, do you?”

“Not at all.” You indicated towards the typically vacant chairs in the room. “Take all the time you need.”

He did not sit down, hanging around you in silence for a few minutes before he said what was on his mind. “Did you always want to be a barista when you grew up?”

That stumped you. It was not very often that you received personal questions or interest in what you were doing. Maybe some even felt bad to ask. You were far more used to listening to people, and not the other way around.

“No, not really,” you answered truthfully. “To be frank, I don’t think I ever knew.”

“So, what made you decide?”

You hummed, tapping your chin as you pondered his question. “It was something I kinda just fell into,” you explained. “I saw an opportunity and took my chance. I guess I’ve always been idealistic and wanting to help people…”

“I’ve always wanted that too…” he chimed in gently as his fingers inadvertently brushed against yours. He jerked his hand away as soon as he realized, as if he had received an electric shock.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, he continued, “I became who I am because, when I was young, I saw someone do this very same job. He helped others, ordinary people, including me.”

“The man saved my life,” he stressed, pausing as if recalling a distant memory, before he divulged, “I told everyone, ‘That’s who I want to be when I grow up!’ Helping civilians, doing the little things that change their lives.”

“Now it feels like I’m only getting further away from it,” he sighed despondently. “Solving mystery cases like Scooby-Doo and joining an elite team…”

Your fingertips grazed his knuckles. “Nothing’s stopping you.”

“What?” He looked at you, startled.

“Nothing’s stopping you from helping others, just because you end up doing something else,” you answered plainly.

It took a while for your words to sink in before he could react to them. “You’re— I don’t know how you do it,” he chuckled in disbelief to himself. “You make me want to tell you everything. That’s your superpower.”

“I’m just me,” you shrugged. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And that’s exactly how I like you.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[httpsserene]

im back to request another x male reader hehe🤭a plot inspired by moth to a flame by the weeknd, what do ya think?

𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐰/𝐥𝐧𝟒 & 𝐨𝐩𝟖𝟏

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: lando has many regrets, the most painful one being the fact that he encouraged you to date oscar.  📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: angst. beta read. emotional infidelity. implied future possible cheating? established relationship w/oscar piastri. unhappy ending. but also, open ending (sick n twisted). 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 2.3k words 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: lando norris & male!reader | oscar piastri x male!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: moth to a flame • the weeknd & swedish house mafia

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲:  i HATE writing cheat*ng fics, like the idea genuinely makes me sick to my stomach–i never understood why someone would cheat when they can literally just break up 😐, it pisses me off. it’s purely greedy behavior, manipulative, and disrespectful as fuck. but honestly an emotional affair would borderline break my heart more than a physical affair—like you love somebody else more than me??? and you’re not even having sex with them, you just have more emotional intimacy with them??? i fr would shatter into pieces—ANYWAYS: wikipedia was my source for the timeline, so if doesn’t canonically make sense…it is what it is :p sorry for hurting lando, i didn’t want to 😔i think this is my first true angst fic ever? enjoy, loves !!!

thank you to @biancathecool for beta-reading this fic for me !!

want to be added to my taglist? want to submit a request? send me an ask!

check out my table of contents for all of my works!

lando wishes he never invited you to the silverstone grand prix in 2022. he knows you would’ve been insulted if he didn’t; you’ve been his best friend since the two of you were in diapers, and you’ve avidly supported him during each race. so, bringing you along to his home race was a given. however, after his meeting with the team post fp1, he caught you sneaking back into his driver’s room with heart-eyes, flushed cheeks, and a new number saved in your phone. it was the first time you met oscar piastri, who at the time was a reserve driver for alpine. when lando teased you for details, you downplayed the interaction, but you also asked him if it was fine if you got to know the australian rookie. he snorted, you didn’t need his permission to associate with other drivers. 

four months later at the the circuit of the americas, you told lando you were dating oscar. 

he’s thankful that you waited until after the race to tell him because he would’ve shunted into the barriers. lando’s heard of how people struggle to get over someone they’ve dated and fell in love with—but how does he recover from getting over someone he’s never allowed himself to fall in love with? 

lando feigned happiness for you, his shocked laughter passing for joy. he ushered you to sneak into oscar’s room to “make the most of the time you had together,” while he went out to celebrate max’s pole and his p6. the brit did congratulate his friend, and then for a man who claims to not like alcohol, he proceeded to get wasted. he was a mess, enough that he had to be escorted back to the hotel by daniel and carlos—as if being babysat by one of them wasn’t embarrassing enough. he broke down, sobbing into the spaniard’s shoulder about his missed chance, and was eventually soothed to sleep by daniel awkwardly rubbing his back. 

he knew it would be difficult to pretend that he wasn’t distraught at your new relationship. he’s had you to himself his whole life; and now he has to see you love another man. when oscar joined mclaren for the 2023 season, sure, he first-handedly witnessed how well the rookie driver treated you. good morning and good night texts aren’t forgotten even with ever changing time zones,  you’re spoiled with gifts, lando catches how oscar’s phone has three alternate home screens with photos of you, oscar’s car passenger seat is adjusted to you, he has a list of things you like written in his notes app, he has your coffee order memorized. you’re wearing oscar’s mclaren merch instead of his, you stay on the australian’s side of the garage and calm his nerves instead, you game with lando half as much as you usually did and go out on dates with oscar instead, the collection of stuff that you’ve forgotten in lando’s flat decreases and he spots your stuff in oscar’s flat when he came over to hangout with you two one day. you’re rarely in your own flat, lando has to call or text you to find out what you’re doing instead of just randomly appearing like he usually does, you practically live with oscar when he’s back home, and it becomes very clear to lando that he’s your best friend, not your boyfriend. something else becomes clear to lando. while you may be infatuated with oscar, you’re still his other half. 

your phone battery may die during several hour long facetime calls with oscar, but does he know that when you sleep in your own bed, that you call lando and plug in your phone so it charges while you fall asleep to the sound of his voice?

the passcode to your phone may be oscar’s birthday, but does he know that you have lando listed as your emergency contact?

you never order any seafood dishes on dates with oscar, but does he know that’s muscle memory from years of knowing lando gags at the smell?

oscar kisses the scar you have on the knuckles of your right hand, but does he know that’s from when you broke your hand punching a group of older boys who were bullying lando after he beat them in a kart race?

does he know that lando was your first kiss?

it all comes to a head in qatar. oscar won the sprint race, lando hasn’t won anything in the five years he’s been in formula one. you were late to the party the team is throwing for oscar because you were cradling lando as he sobs into your chest. max won the grand prix, and lando was the first loser to cross the finish line; as usual.

at two in the morning, there was a knock on his hotel room door. lando knew it was you from the cadence. you were dressed for bed, clothes wrinkled, voice deep and throaty from sleep, hair mussed to one side, and pillow lines were indented on your cheek. you asked him if he wanted to talk, that you noticed he was off this whole weekend. all lando could think about is the fact that you woke up in the middle of the night, slipped out of the bed you shared with oscar, and continued to wander to lando’s room half-asleep because you were worried about him. waiting until the morning didn’t cross your mind. lando’s heart ached—he shouldn’t be in love with you, he can’t be.

he let you in anyways, how was he supposed to turn you away? you were blinking at him with sleepy eyes, swollen cheeks, pouted lips—he’s only a man. you made yourself comfortable on top of his bed, and lando stared before he shrugged and laid down next to you; this is fine, this is a completely normal thing the two of you have been doing for years. just not while you have a boyfriend, or while he’s suddenly been accepting his feelings for you.

you didn’t say a word, and kept your eyes shut (you’re used to lando, he’ll speak when he wants to or he’ll be fine with your presence next to him while he sorts out his thoughts). you almost fell asleep before lando’s torrent of words startled you into awareness. 

he was tripping over his words, his brain moving faster than his mouth. self-deprecating and over critical views fell from his lips—the way they sounded clued you into everything you already knew. the brunet had been thinking this for a while, the phrases sounding too practiced to be sudden realizations. the remaining whisper of sleep was vaporized from your mind at lando’s harsh evaluation of the weekend and his entire career. 

you rushed to sit upright and bodily forced lando to turn and face you; your hands warmly blanketed the sides of his face and applied enough pressure for his words to become unintelligible before they tapered off. he knew that you were disagreeing with his monologue from the way your brows were furrowed and how your eyes were alight with anger. the air between you vibrated with the force of your speech, and lando knew you were probably ranting about the only reason he isn’t world champion is because of his car, not his self-perceived lack of skill. 

the sharp edge of your jawline was far more interesting to brit—the length of your fanned out eyelashes, the shape of your lips shifting as they formed syllables, the strength coiled beneath the skin of your hands, the broad spread of your chest—lando’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips distractedly and the sound of your voice returned to his ears.

“…you better understand me, okay?” is all that he caught. the senior mclaren driver (how weird), hummed half-heartedly in agreement. his stare tunneled to the part of your lips, and he knew his appreciation was discovered by the audible catch of breath in your throat.

it was like all the air was sucked out of the room, a perfect vacuum created. lando hesitated, before he redirected his gaze to meet yours, and he was sure what he saw was more catastrophic than anything he could’ve imagined. your eyes were locked on his lips, as well. the brunet can’t tell how much time passed by, the two of you were busy taking turns admiring the idea of a kiss. both of you continued to stare; eyes flickering across faces, tongues wetting lips, breath quickening in anticipation, and bodies leaning closer to each other steadily. when lando felt your exhales ghost faintly over his mouth, his eyes fluttered shut and he shivered slightly, a sense of satisfaction flooded his brain; you were going to kiss him—and then he heard you gasp.

lando’s eyes flew open to see you scrambling off the bed, a horrified look painted on your face as you stared at him. 

“this never happened,” you started, running an anxious, guilt-ridden hand through your hair, “and it will never happen again.”

it felt like his world was crashing down, he was frozen in shock. you moved to rush by him and leave the room, and he finally defrosted, and caught you by the arm.

you turned around furiously, tears gathering in your eyes as you forced your arm out of his grasp, a scathing, “let go of me,” leaving your mouth.

lando’s hands were shaking, mouth wobbling as he held back his own tears, and he rambled, “you're just going to forget what happened? were never going to talk about that? you’re not going to tell oscar?”

“NO!” you screamed, “no—i won’t tell oscar. and, i don’t have to tell him anything, because nothing actually happened. it was a mistake.”

he heard his heart shatter, and he couldn’t hold his tears back anymore. lando angrily brushed them away as they fell, knowing his face was embarrassingly red with anguish, and his insides burned at the look of pity and longing mixed in your gaze. 

“so, you’re just going to pretend that you don’t have feelings for me,” lando questioned disbelievingly, “like i don’t know you better than oscar ever could? you’re just going to forget this ever happened and run back to bed with oscar, and continue to have him believe that everything is fine?”

the air was still for a minute, your shared breaths the only audible noise in the room. 

“you’re only going to hurt him more if you act like everything’s okay,” lando whispered, “he doesn’t deserve that.”

your first tear of the night fell, your arms wrapped around your torso to hold yourself, trying to find any glimpse of protection and comfort you could. “oscar’s good to me…he treats me well, perfectly, even. he’s sweet, i really like him a lot.”

“you ‘like him a lot,’” lando repeated, staring into your eyes desperately, “but, you love me.”

the flame of rage and distress reignited in your eyes, “lando—i loved you for years. and, not once have i ever tried to make a move on you because i didn’t want to ruin our friendship. i didn’t even know you liked men until almost three fucking years ago! and, you still never gave me any sign that you were romantically interested in me. you had plenty of time and chances to date me, and you only realized that you wanted me when you lost me to oscar.”

“that’s not true,” lando murmured, “i’ve always been in love with you.”

lando watched the fury falter in your expression, and saw the conflict dance in your gaze. your stare softened, and you stepped forward to hold his face in your hands. 

“i can’t do this. not to oscar—he doesn’t deserve it. i can’t break up with him.” you said in a muted tone, “we shouldn’t be together.”

the brunet whimpered, eyes watering again. his large hands came up to hold yours against his cheeks, nuzzling into the warmth of your palm. you sighed brokenly, and leaned forward to press kiss on lando’s forehead. a muffled sob vibrated through lando’s chest, and you blinked rapidly to avoid crying again. your thumb swiped under lando’s eyes, brushing away his fresh tears, and you gently swept another kiss along his cheekbone.

lando cries messily when you pull away, and can only hold himself as you leave his room without glancing backwards at him. when the door shuts, lando falls to the ground, leaning back against the bed as he sobs into his hands. he understands what you said, but he can’t help but yearn for more. his chest aches painfully, and he doesn’t know if he can give you the time you need—the distance you need.  lando will pretend to be okay, he’s good at that. he’ll let you be for as long as he can manage, but he’s reassured at the knowledge that you’re in love with him. 

eventually, the two of you won’t be able to fight the pull of what you really need—you’re moths to each other's flames.

taglist: @saintslewis@cherry2stemss@lorarriri@inloveallthetime@mindless-rock@biancathecooll@barnestaticc @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz

© httpsserene2023

[swifty-fox]

From the angst writing prompts list: “ you’ll fuck me but you won’t [go out with/date/marry] me. ” for Buck x Bucky?

prompt list

let's do some Hockey AU! Old Men Yaoi time Buck and Gale are in their late thirties here.

Saturday evening's argument starts out in that silent way of theirs. A slight downward curve of Gale's lips, a scoffing eyeroll from John. A decision not to sit beside each other on the plane ride home.

John shuts down the goal on Gale during practice, a pointed petty over-exertion of routine practice.

Gale uses the last of the creamer and doesn't replace it. He doesn't even like creamer in his coffee.

By Monday night they're in a full-blown Fight.

It makes the rookies uneasy, the tension between their Captain and their Alternate. The way the two men snipe at each other from the showers, from the locker room, from puck drop to final buzzer reminds the other veterans of their debut year on the team. Before they'd figured things out and decided they made a damn good team on the ice and romantically to boot.

The Buckies didn't fight. It was an irrefutable fact of the universe, like how Biddick always ate a nerds rope between second and third periods and the way Little Mac always had dog fur in his duffel bag.

Tuesday they lose their game because Gale is too busy chirping John for leaving the crease yet again and so John tells him to care about his own game and lets in three points diving for the puck halfway to the blue rather than trusting their Dmen.

Wednesday is a double OT Win and John goads the teams into a line brawl because it would be exceptionally bad form for him to punch his Alternate in the face.

Friday Coach Chick Harding sits them down and tells them to figure their shit out or be benched for the foreseeable future.

At home they cook dinner and don't talk about it. John does the dishes and Gale does the laundry and they don't talk about it. They have bitter, biting, angry sex and hold each other in the aftermath but they don't talk about it.

They're both healthy scratches for Saturday's game and Brady loses a tooth trying to fill Gale's skates. Curt corners John in the owners booth after, sticks a blunt scarred finger at his nose and orders him to fix this.

John, who'd always been the slightly more emotionally intelligent of the two, and also the elder, and also the goddamn Captain, sighs like a scolded teenager.

Lying in bed after another bout of wonderful sex where they don't talk about it and don't talk about anything else either John stares up at the ceiling they'd painted together and purses his lips.

"We have to talk about it."

Gale grunts, twists to pop a couple advil in his mouth and passes the bottle to John. They both were living with their aches and pains more prominently these days and their medicine cabinet had long been well stocked with compression bandages and OTC painkillers and packs and packs of IcyHot. "Talk about what?"

"Oh fuck off, eh? You're not stupid and you're not a fuckin' liar Buck."

"What is there to say?"

Throwing his hands up John makes a wordless sound of frustration, rolls to pin Gale with his thighs and glare down at him. Both their bodies were mid-season lean, packed with muscle and bruised from rough play that would only grow rougher as teams fought to qualify for the playoffs. "You're content to fuck me all these years but you won't marry me?"

Gale, lines around his beloved face that were not there even five years ago, grey creeping through his hair unnoticed for the paleness of it, avoids John's gaze.

"Isn't this enough? We got a house and we got a team and it's each other we come home to at night. We live like we're married already Bucky, what's a document got to do with any of it?"

"If it's just a document it should be no big deal right?" John asks sweetly.

Gale frowns up at him and John jabs him in the center of his chest, drawing a grunt from the other man.

"You're being a puss and you know it. I just can't figure out why."

Pale blue eyes close, muscled cheekbones flexing with tension as Gale sighs slowly. John strokes down Gale's chest, over the seams of his stomach muscles and along the ladder of his ribs. Even angry, they'd lived too long together to not be at ease.

"I don't want the end of my career to become a political statement. I don't want to be a martyr or a symbol, I just want to play some good fucking hockey and then retire. And then when it's no longer our Job to be talked about I want to marry you quietly and privately and play beer leagues with you so you can finally have your Goaltender fight."

there's a long period of silence in which Galer's face screws up tighter, eyes squeezing shut as if waiting for his partner's ire. And then John is laughing, loud and incredulously and from the belly.

"That's it?"

Gale opens one eye and finds John looking down at him with his signature toothless grin. His salt and pepper hair falls around their faces as he bends down to kiss Gale soundly, "You spent the last week stressing out all the children because you were too scared to ask for a long engagement?"

"Engagement?"

John rolls back off Gale's body with a groan, stretching his body out, "Yeah. Unless I heard wrong you just said you wanted to marry me, which is as good as asking in my book. So sure Gale, I'll marry you after you retire."

"Hold on, John, fuckin' hell, we're not resolving this that easy are we?"

"I mean it ain't the most romantic of proposals, but there's time for you to do it right."

[scuderiahalf]

next work — poll

i’m having trouble figuring out which story i want to focus on. what would you most like to see first?

platonic!daniel ricciardo x verstappen!f1a driver!fem!reader — your uncle has another thing coming if he thinks you’ll idly sit there and take whatever he throws at you. alternatively, the story of how jos verstappen got his shit rocked by a sixteen-year-old girl.

platonic!fernando alonso x teammate!fem!reader — if fernando alonso had a nickel for every time he was teammates with a rookie who threatened his position in the championship, he would have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it's happened twice. the second time, you are who challenge him and somehow, that changes everything.

arthur leclerc x ferrari driver!fem!reader — you never set out to date your teammate's brother. in fact, it took arthur months just to convince you to go on a single date, but charles' opinion of you hit an all time low after he became aware of your relationship and nothing you did seemed to help mend your previously strong partnership. when charles takes it a step too far, you decide that you’ve had enough of it.

[withlovenavi]

f1!oikawa and f1!iwaizumi, childhood friends who dreamed to be together in formula 1, are now teammates.

oikawa thinks he has all: a good car, his engineers working non stop for the season, his team principal says publicly he's the n1 pilot of the team, and iwaizumi.

during the winter break, oikawa was going crazy. after so many years of pining for his best friend, he started to notice all the little things iwaizumi did for him. things that wasn't very best friend-like. he had hope.

so he invited over his childhood friend to spend the break with him. days passed and nothing happened. oikawa was getting restless.

and, right after new years, iwaizumi finally kissed him.

recluded in a hotel in the dolomites, oikawa and iwaizumi just spend their time to make up for the lost time.

so, the season starts.

oikawa is leading, after two races wins and a pole. iwaizumi close. the car is getting better and better and the natural distance between oikawa and iwaizumi natural pace is getting shorter and shorter.

right after the spring break, iwaizumi wins the race. oikawa only leads by ten points.

but oikawa is happy, happier than ever. his lover is getting the recognition he deserves and the team is secured the constructor championship before the break.

for the spring break, they go to iwaizumi's house in st tropez. away of all public eyes, their love blooms.

back on track, oikawa and iwaizumi alternate first and second place on every race.

at some point, iwaizumi's father appears on the paddock.

oikawa doesn't like him. he could be a formula 1 world champion or the queen of england, it wouldn't make a difference, he will still a shitty father. oikawa still remembers iwaizumi crying in his arms to sleep after a particular bad argument when they were kids.

iwaizumi is always upset after every visit which make oikawa resent even more the older man.

they celebrate each other birthdays, only 40 days apart. even if they're still on the european tour, oikawa and iwaizumi sneak out and they properly celebrate in private.

however, it's during iwaizume birthday that oikawa notices how close the two men are. it's odd as iwaizumi always complains about his father to oikawa but he knows iwizumi will tell him everything.

the summer break comes. oikawa and iwaizumi spend it together as usual in a luxury resort. but when iwaizumi thinks oikawa is asleep, he goes out to make some calls. once, oikawa is close enough to hear clearly iwaizumi's father voice.

when they come back to the paddock, something changes. iwaizumi starts to be more aggresive on track. he wins the first race after disobey team orders. then he comes too close in the next circuit curve, forcing oikawa to break earlier than desirable. during the team meeting after the race, the argument between the two forces the team principal to kick them out to the motorhome.

iwaizumi starts to not share his imput in the presence of oikawa. iwaizumi's father becomes part of his team, oikawa sees them talking in hushes voices on their side of the garage.

their break out is ugly and messy and oikawa has never cried so much in his life. he feels how all the love he has to for his childhood friend is slowly becoming in his biggest fear: hate.

they're so aggresive on track that they have a crash. oikawa has the worst of it and that only fuels the hatred he feels toward his former lover. at the media press, iwaizumi refuses to apologize. and again during the team meeting.

media starts to put them against each other. the greatest rivalry in the century; who will win the championship?

the tension is making the team divide between team oikawa and team iwaizumi. iwaizumi's father gives more interviews. oikawa blocks iwaizumi from instagram and fan notice.

in the following two races, iwaizumi wins. he's first on the championship after six years on formula 1.

only three races left.

oikawa wins the next one. a rookie called tobio kageyama wins the other.

one race and the campionship.

iwaizumi races like mad man. he pushes oikawa outside the track. oikawa exceed maximum speed limits. they race like there's nothing else for them.

the last race becomes one of the best race in history. the greatest rivalry between two generational talents have their future sealed in 71 laps.

iwaizumi wins his first and only world championship. he cries on the podium, happier then ever, his childhood's dream come true.

on his right, oikawa is also crying. he's still happy for iwaizumi, still loving him, still hating him. but he knows this is the end.

the end of a friendship. the end of a dream. the end of a love.

[alicerosejensen]

Please, since you are responding to requests now, then you may have a little specific text or headlines about how Leon ID, RE4, RE6, Vendetta (any one you like better) copes with the fact that the reader constantly abandons him for the fictional ideal of another man, but in the end always she returns to him, and Leon just loves her so much that he can't refuse her.

If it's too much for you, but please forgive and forget.

No it's fine) I fucking loved the idea. If the text comes out good enough, then maybe I'll even write the second part if someone likes it 😉

Who is she?

Warning: Reader asshole (I apologize); Fem.reader; cheating; Leon constantly forgives; unhealthy relationships; There is a barely noticeable mention of the age difference; Any version of Leon

Synopsis: Leon is tired of forgiving you over and over again, knowing that you always run away from him to another man whom you consider your prince, but when you are disappointed… maybe he should think about himself?

note: I don't think Leon could forgive cheating at all, and even if he did, it would only be once, but just let's dream a little. This man has so much shit that in some of the alternate universes we can imagine that he can forgive the reader.

English is far from my native language, so I apologize for all the errors.

First of all, he was also tired of impermanence. Glass after glass and the beloved princess who is constantly looking for a charming prince again in his head becomes an innocent maiden with soft skin and not that ruinous mermaid who somehow constantly pulls him into her nets. Fingers hold a glass of whiskey in his hands and Leon sees his own reflection in the amber liquid. At the time, you could really be the same sea woman from the legends who drags sailors to the bottom of the oceans, but the trouble is that Leon is at the bottom of the bottle every time you think you have found an incomprehensible ideal in which you will definitely not be disappointed anymore.

Maybe it was your inexperience and young age? Leon remembers how he met you, and he didn't need much. Maybe one or two nights without commitment, without love, because in her heart lived a mysterious woman in red, who sometimes left paper airplanes with traces of lipstick after rare nights.

But you…

For some reason, you have sunk deep into his blood, and Leon himself could not let you go. Gentle touches, stroking your hair in a dream, it was as if he had returned to the skin of Leon's rookie with puppy eyes full of devotion in his gaze. When he nuzzled your neck, touching the skin with his lips, hugging you around the waist so tightly, but painlessly.

It wasn't even about sex, but rather about some kind of warmth and comfort that enveloped like a light veil. Passion was, however, Leon quickly left it in the background, making love to you his priority. Not just a physical attraction, but something more sublime. Just to lie together like this while you're texting someone on your phone, leaving him blissfully unaware that a replacement has been found for him.

"After all, you said yourself that you don't need love," you told him the first time he saw this fucking correspondence in one of the last chats when you were taking a shower. "And I want to be loved"

Then you stood in front of him in a towel with wet hair, while he clutched your phone in his hand, trying to suppress the desire to smash it on the floor. Last night you told him that you were fine with him, and later corresponded with another guy, telling him the same thing. Anger from resentment completely filled his soul. But you were right… He immediately made it clear that he didn't need a serious relationship, but didn't you see all his sincere affection afterwards? He gave you everything you wanted and treated you with such awe, as if he had fragile porcelain in front of him that needed to be taken care of.

And he let you go reluctantly, because it didn't occur to him that you needed those three simple words "I love you", which he didn't think of uttering even in a fit of passion.

The only thing Leon found solace in was alcohol and work that took away all moral resources. But returning to an empty apartment, he wanted more than anything in the world to see you, sleep and bask in the same bed or take you somewhere far away from the noisy city for a week to relax with him. However, his princess was with her Prince charming, which he unfortunately was not. Apparently Leon was some kind of antagonist of this story or just a minor character who is remembered when the plot demands it, because the princess soon became disillusioned with the prince who did not justify all her ideals.

And so history repeats itself… The mermaid swims out of the depths of the sea again to drag him to the bottom with her… It's a funny comparison considering that Leon himself lets you drag him to this very bottom. He forgave… It wiped away your tears, kissing your cheeks flushed from crying and pressed your body to his chest, holding so tightly as if you could fall.

You're so young. So inexperienced and probably a little touchy, so you ran away from him to some asshole who didn't appreciate you as the only flower in the whole wide world. Forgiving you was so easy.

You returned to him that was the main thing after which Leon was going to take care of you to the fullest, not intending to give you to anyone anymore. The relationship was the healing of his traumas. Leon did not even consider what happened between you cheating. There was just a misunderstanding, but now he was going to build trust with you. So as you lay on the crumpled sheets, his lips gently kissed your back. He liked the idea that he was no longer alone. That he doesn't need to live the worst moments of his life alone.

Therefore, returning home always made him look like a dog that was eager to see his beloved person to whom he was attached, and if Leon had a tail, he would definitely wag it so that he could demolish half the apartment.

"Why was it necessary to seek love from other men?"

Leon never considered himself the best partner in the world. Okay, maybe he really doesn't have enough free time to spend with you, but that never means he enjoyed being away from you! Gifts were just a way to make amends with you for his absence, but then he always tried to make up for lost time by inviting you to places ranging from expensive restaurants to a pleasant week-long romantic cruise.

But now, sitting at the table in his apartment and looking into your seemingly sincere tears with pleas for forgiveness, Leon remembers how you left him for the second time.

"What did you promise me?" His voice is ringing in your head, while a cold reaction, along with an indifferent smirk, leaves no chance.Finally, he raised his icy eyes to you, forcing you to remember all your false promises of loyalty to him. "How many times have you promised me that you love me, huh?

Do you remember this number yourself? because Leon is already tired of counting and forgiving.

Silence freezes between the two and only the sound of the heels of your beautiful expensive boots that he gave you not so long ago is heard. You walked up to him and a trail of your perfume enveloped his nose as your fingers stroked the back of his hand.

It is difficult to resist your feminine charms. Initially, Leon considered you the embodiment of a dream that he could reach. As a result, your game of "Love" turned out to be even worse than when Ada played with him. At least she was as honest with him as her secrecy allowed, and you...

"That the last suitor did not live up to expectations again?" sarcastically remarks Leon overturning the glass into himself, drinking the contents completely. "And my beloved princess is running back to the dragon's lair to start waiting for another stupid cute boy who, in her imaginary dreams, will be the one?" Alcohol does not dull the heartache that you brought him with your cheating.

"I'm sorry..." you whisper pathetically, gently grabbing his forearm causing him to let out a low chuckle "Please..."

"What is the number of times? The fifth?" The hand reaches for the bottle again.

Leon is tired of forgiving. Tired of listening to your vows of love and then finding texts with other guys and finding out that you go on dates while he risks his life on a mission.

However, Leon could not himself, he still loved you, but he could no longer forgive these endless antics. The second time, you ran away yourself, telling him that you had found the love of your life, leaving him completely discouraged and confused. That's just this "love" lived for only 2 months, and you couldn't take it anymore, running away from your new lover back to him. Crying, drunkenly clinging to him, and no matter how he was offended by your mean act, Leon's nobility did not allow him to leave you in trouble... Of course, he loved, of course, he wanted you to be there, so when you sobered up and looked at him with such sweet eyes full of tears and sincere remorse for the mistake you made, Leon didn't have the strength to give up on you.

In order for him to forgive, it was only necessary to snuggle up to his back, hug his stomach, sniff and say that you love him very much. You just made a mistake.

Exactly the same scenario was repeated for the third and fourth time, with the only difference being that Leon himself saw a chat with guys on your phone. The last time, he even waited out of interest to see if you would tell him about your subject sighing or if he would have to catch you red-handed again. Fuck, even Ada didn't play on his emotions like that. In the end, Leon decided that he had had enough.

But here you two are again. An endless cycle of cheating and forgiveness.

Part of Leon knew he shouldn't give in to you, but it was so hard to say no. It is already impossible to atone for such an act, and Leon rightly does not want to listen to sweet speeches again, trusting them once again so that in a couple of months he will start licking the wounds from your separation from him again.

"I made a mistake. Again," you said softly, and Leon even ignored you for a while, thinking about something of his own.

"A mistake?" Leon looked at you in disbelief. "It was a mistake the first time. Then I humbled myself and forgave you the second time, but the third, fourth and fifth? Are you serious?!"

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry."

Oh, those sweet cheeks of yours and tearful eyes that could destroy any defense of his broken heart. You always speak so sincerely that Leon does not understand if you are a good actress or if some kind of chemical chain is really going on in your head, because of which you are constantly looking for love on the side. It's always not enough for you, but for some reason you sleep with him, eat, live, whisper beautiful words and even make ill-conceived plans for children. Casually and more in jest than seriously, but these conversations were!

The problem is that he loves you, but your feelings for him are like a cigarette. And only ashes remain of them. With each new attempt, he wanted to believe that it would be just you and him, but there was always someone else. And Leon just doesn't know where to put himself. Clumsy in the relationship, he didn't even notice or didn't want to notice your manipulations, but looking into your eyes, he wants to forgive you again and again, giving another attempt to start over.

But there is a limit to everything.

"Leon…" a gentle, even voice interrupts the silence. He could dream about you for the rest of his days, thinking that somewhere in your heart there is still a real love for him. Therefore, when he looks up at you again, he feels only bitterness and sadness.

But what can you know about his sorrows? And yet Leon is not surprised by your presence here. You say you missed him, but this time he wasn't going to believe it.

"What do you want this time?"

"You" you answer without the slightest delay, watching as he drinks another dose of alcohol. "Only you. I know I hurt you, but now everything will be different!"

Finally, a sarcastic grin touches his lips. This makes you feel uncomfortable and your stomach seems to curl up inside, telling you that he is so tired of these toxic relationships that he no longer wants to get involved with anyone.

"Are you serious?!" Leon laughs, twirling the glass in his hands. "Where did that prince go? Believe it or not, I'm not even interested in what happened to you this time because you came running to me again to cry and ask for forgiveness. I've had enough of this shit. I'm done"

He already said this last time, but now you bite the inside of your cheek, taking an empty glass from his hands, pushing your fingers into his palm, hoping that tactile contact will give you the advantage to bring everything back and correct all mistakes.

Because of this, Leon head and heart are in conflict again. The desire to be with the woman he loved unrestrainedly was even stronger than Ada was attracted to, but his mind told him that it would be stupid. Even when you knelt down next to him.

"Please believe me. I understand how much pain I brought you, but I realized a lot. I don't need anyone else give me a chance to fix everything!"

"I really want to believe you. If only I could," he said before kissing your palm in his hand. "Not after all your games"

"No more games," you honestly admitted, trying to convince him.

As if it were true. He does not want to check your phone for the presence of questionable correspondence, looking through the texts of forwarded messages with lovers. He was annoyed by the thought of it, but he really still loved you. Besides, Leon didn't want you to get away with it anymore.

"All those meetings… they didn't really mean anything to me. But I only realized it now."

"You already swore to me in love, swore that those men meant nothing to you, but I always caught you and we went back to where we started. If it didn't mean anything to you, why were you always looking for love on the side? Looking for it from other men when I tried to give you everything you wanted?!" Leon lowered his gaze, looking at you with bloodshot tears. "I don't want to take it anymore" He said before grabbing his glass and taking another shot of whiskey.

"This…it was all such a huge mistake of mine. Foolishness."

"Foolishness?" He grinned and his beautiful blue eyes darkened with anger, "Maybe you just don't know how to be faithful? I forgave the first time because we had a condition that we only sleep, but when it turned into a relationship… I had the strength to accept you for the second, third fucking fourth time, but if you think I'm blind and stupid, then you're very wrong. Look for your ideal further since you haven't seen my kind attitude towards you under your nose!"

Alcohol flows through his veins causing the pain he felt to subside a little. His voice broke and Leon bit his lip, not wanting to say more, but here you are clinging to his back with your arms wrapped in a tight ring of hugs endlessly begging for stupid forgiveness.

"Why couldn't you just love me?"

"I love." Your voice almost turned into a plea when you saw that he was giving up. He let those hugs envelop him, but it didn't get any better. "I will never again… I will never betray you. Please believe me."

He would like to… however, he knows that these words are likely to be followed by another knife in the back. Your hands are too warm and it reminds Leon of those happy moments when he did not remember about your love affairs. About those moments when you were just together.

But then Leon stands up to his full height and you literally rush to him in the hope of that very forgiveness. Looks at him with puppy eyes, forcing him to press his cheek to your crown, feeling his beloved and such a native smell. And it was no less pleasant to respond to your kisses. Leon was just basking with you for a while, maybe because of a drunken fog in his head. The words of love were so tender, sweet and poured like honey into the ears, actually being poison. He could even spend the night with you in this state, but there wasn't that much alcohol in his blood.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." you grab his face by stroking his cheek with your thumb and for some reason he touches your nose with his nose, smiling sweetly. "give me another chance. The last one."

Leon presses against your forehead, pulling your hands away from him, and grabs your face. Not violent, no. But at the bottom of the sapphire eyes you see darkness. One move of his, and the thin neck will clearly break under the influence of his power.

Leon hates that feeling. He hates that you know what power you have over his feelings and heart. You need a couple of affectionate words, a puppy look and gentle hugs so that he digs into your lips with a rough kiss, to which you will respond

"It was the last chance." He said that when he pulled away from your lips, part of him knew that he was making another mistake "Damn it, you better live better according to every word you say. Because if I forgive you, I won't go through this rubbish anymore. Do you understand?"

Leon closed his eyes and exhaled, although he realized only at that moment that he was holding his breath. It was nice to feel your soft lips, even in a moment overshadowed by a broken heart.

"I love you," he whispered, hoping that this time it wasn't simple words that could easily turn out to be unrequited.

[mariemarion]

hey, long time no been here. I'm sleepy, but I have something to say

I will abuse google translator a little cause I originally wrote all this in spanish :p

I haven't had energy the last few months. I am currently in a not very good state of mind so I will allow myself to be somewhat negative below.

I have lost interest in continuing with art, or at least the motivation is at the lowest level it has ever been, my only real reason for continuing is because it feeds my family, my pets and me, its reason enough to keep going , I fervently believe. But this doesn't stop me from feeling like I'm not going anywhere, that I'm stuck. Drawing has never been so exhausting, so tiring. I loved it, it may not be a permanent feeling, but currently I do not feel love for my drawings, for my current style, although I like it I feel that it is not mine, that it is not me, that I am not being sincere.

My dream is to reach that level of skill, like the meme, a rookie artist drawing something super rendered and complex and the senior artist drawing the most simplified style possible, I want to be that senior artist x'D.

How socials are treating and overshadowing artists lately also has a lot to add here, to hell with the numbers, I'm not interested in them, I'm not interested in the algorithm, I don't quite understand what it's about, I don't want to be tied down all the time , I want to come and go freely, that's all, I don't enjoy loggin into networks as i used to be.

Sometimes I would like to go back in time, when I felt free to create, when I was looking for to experiment and had fun. Today just thinking about holding a pencil makes me want to run away to the comfort of my bed or go play with my cats or to want to climb a mount and never coming back. And not to mention the damage I have done to my eyes and my hands, sometimes I can't do anything but overdo everything, and therefore hurting me, I foolishly force myself to accomplish deadlines that I have imposed on myself and that I am aware of its a short time.

I'm in a situation where I can't stop drawing, it's my job, I can't simply take a rest. I practically survive with what I earn (which lately is little), prices for many essentials are going up to the stratosphere and beyond (the price for cat food is so ridiculously expensive that I have started opting for homemade food) I have not been able to save anything, if I stop drawing and taking commissions, I don't know what else I could do, looking for alternatives is also tiring. I just want to sleep.

Apathy, that is my current state.

Fatigue.

Drowsiness.

A bottomless abyss, although when I say it out loud it makes me laugh x'D

Going to therapy has crossed my mind, I know there are issues to resolve, but thinking about the absence of money and next month's expenses somehow overlap everything else.

I think there were more things to add, but I can't think anymore.

I will not abandon art, it is clear to me, but if these last few months have been slow (in terms of making art), they will be even more so in the future, so you better do not miss me too much, you have been warned x'D

ty for reading

[dreadfullyrottenn]

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ - - first day on the job ♡ // leon kennedy x m!reader

synopsis ; you had been working as an officer at the rpd long before leon had. when leon arrived, he was really nothing much but a rookie officer to you. that was, until, the two of you gradually began to form a bond.

note(s) ; this still takes place in sept. 30, 1998, but in this alternate universe the outbreak doesnt occur. not proofread. m! reader.

(a/n) ; hii! this is more of a platonic sort of thing, if you'd ever want me to continue this just tell me so . also, this is like my first time writing something ever so if it's shit,, then i am so sorry ! ! 😭

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

september 30th, 1998. just another day in the office. that would've been the case, but there was something a little special happening at the department. there would be a new officer joining the force, and the rest of the team had already made sure it would be warm welcome for the rookie cop.

a few hours had passed, and you've yet to even give a proper introduction to leon, your excuse being that you were just too busy. well, either way, you managed to spare some time to bond with the newbie.

little did you know, leon had similar plans himself. while you were simply working on another case by yourself at your desk, leon was right behind you, and you didn't even notice- you were so focused on whatever you were working on. admittedly, leon didn't know how to first approach you; he didn't want to startle you, but he really had no other choice.

"you definitely seem to be a hard worker," leon's tone was soft; welcoming, but that didn't stop you from getting completely startled- you had nearly jumped out your seat, you didn't think anybody else was even still around at that time. but leon must've been really trying to be the best he could today, huh? you turn your seat around to face behind, and sure enough, leon was there. that at least somewhat calmed you down.

an awkward smile crept up leon's face, with a hint of guilt aswell. it's not like he necessarily meant to startle you, he just wanted to get to know you. leon extended his hand out, and you did the same. "hey, man. didn't mean to startle you like that, hope you understand." leon put his hand back, and so did you. you felt more at ease, and you were glad that leon wasn't some self-absorbed bastard like some of the other officers at the department. he was friendly, nice. you were sort of starting to take a liking to him.

and leon was thankful you weren't insanely strict and overly proper like some of the others he met, you didn't immediately yell at him just for trying to get to know you. you seemed a lot more laid-back, chill. so, it was only natural for leon to start to take a liking to you, too.

"i hope we can get to know eachother better." leon added with a small, awkward chuckle. he really did hope that the two of you could actually form a bond with eachother. possibly, even friends.

"i hope we can too," you said along with leon, a reassuring smile growing on your face. you expected a lot less from this rookie cop, but he was a lot better than you could ask for. he might even be one of the few you could actually get along with in this place.

©dreadfullyrottenn // do not copy, repost, or translate. this is not your original work.

[kingkestrel]

Liam and Yuki’s Euroformula Open season highlights (April 27- Oct 13th 2019)

Hey Ya’ll! So, I've been researching Yuki and Liam’s history in preparation for a potential fic and… well let’s just say, I went down a deep rabbit hole and found some treasure so I thought I’d share the wealth and compile a resource for anyone else who has an interest.

This is focused on Yuki and Liam’s interactions the 2019 Euroformula Open. I will make a separate post for their 2019 F3 season.

Okay enough rambling let’s begin.

————————————————————————————

So, to start with it’s important to know that on the 18th Feb 2019 Liam and Yuki were both announced as having signed to the RedBull young drivers program. (This allowed Liam to have the funding to enter F3 and without it his career would’ve been over)

Liam and Yuki competed in Euroformula as rookie teammates with Team Motopark. Liam came second in the championship, Yuki came fourth. Their cars are the ones with the RedBull liveries and yellow-tipped nose cones. (Lawson 30, Yuki 15)

They were battling on track constantly throughout the season but lets look at the highlights.

French Grand Prix Round 1 Race 1 (27 April 2019)

In the first race of the season Tsunoda qualified 2nd and Liam 3rd. The race started well for Liam and he overtook Yuki off the line. He then managed to take the lead and although Yuki worked his way to second he used too much of his tire to mount a comeback. Liam won on debut, Yuki came second.

Highlights. Liam’s Debrief after race

French Grand Prix Round 1 Race 2 (28th April 2019)

Lawson took pole Yuki 3rd. They had contact right at the start and were lucky to both stay on track. Liam recovered to 2nd, Yuki unfortunately dropped back to 6th.

Highlights

Circuit de Pau-Ville Round 2 Race 2 (19th May 2019)

On a wet track Yuki started in 2nd and Liam 4th. Tsunoda held position whilst Liam moved up to third then aggressively attacked Yuki. Liam made a beautiful move and overtook him for second. Yuki struggled on his tires and dropped back to 4th. Liam pushed on for the lead but when he attempted the overtake, he went down the inside of the corner where there wasn’t room and crashed himself and the leader out. Billy Monger went on to win and Yuki finished 3rd.

Liam Post Practice Debrief Full Race (26:09 Lawson’s overtake on Yuki, 31:52 for Liam’s crash)

Spa-Francorchamps Round 4 Race 2 (9th June 2019)

Yuki qualified 2nd Liam 5th. Yuki made a great move at the start and took the lead as did Liam who was soon up to 2nd place. On the second Lap Lawson overtook Tsunoda but Yuki tried to take it back again at Eau Rouge. They came together and crashed out again. Clips show them chatting afterwards but it’s unknown what they said.

Highlights. Alternative view of Liam/Yuki crash with funny commentary

Monza Round 9 Race 2 (13th October 2019)

In the last race of the season Lawson started 2nd Yuki back in 9th. Lawson made it to first and Yuki made it all the way to 3rd. After a few corners of absolutely insane three-way battling, Yuki briefly took the lead before Lawson came back on him and retook it. On the next lap, Yuki challenged Lawson again and retook the lead as a big crash involving Jack Doohan happened behind them.

After the safety car the fight was back on and Liam retook the lead again. He went on to win and placed 2nd in the championship by 1 point despite missing two races for F3. Yuki came second in the race and 4th in the championship. (he also missed two races for F3)

Highlights

Other interesting competitors that year included Jack Doohan who finished 11th and Billy Monger who finished 9th. Franco Colapinto also completed one weekend (Spa)

Thx for reading!

Liam and Yuki and the end of season prizegiving ceremony

[porcelainseashore]

Coffee & Secrets (4)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Rookie Cop! Leon x Barista! Fem! Reader

Summary: As a cozy coffee shop owner in Raccoon City, you’re no stranger to visitors seeking comfort, quiet, and warmth. When a rookie officer named Leon finds a kindred spirit in you, it sets in motion a chain of events that forever changes the course of your lives. An alternate universe set in Resident Evil 2 Remake and inspired by the game Coffee Talk.

Content & Warnings: Canon divergence, coffee shops, romance, slow burn, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, fluff, slice of life, swearing

AO3 Link

Chapter 4: Plans

“Claire?”

You had whirled around with a mop in your hand at the unexpected intrusion, catching sight of the familiar redhead grinning like a Cheshire Cat at the door. It was partway into your cleaning routine—one you usually completed before the shop was open.

Your eyes flew to the sign at the entrance. Well, that explains it. You had left it on the other way round by accident. Oops.

“The one and only,” she crooned. “Told you I would come back.”

“A woman of your word,” you acknowledged in appreciation. Discarding the cleaning equipment in the closet, you took down the postcard you had pinned to the fridge with a kitsch souvenir magnet.

She swiped the card from your hands mischievously, asserting, “So, I believe I’m long overdue for a drink?”

“What would’ya like to have?”

“Definitely something with caffeine in it,” she declared, placing a hand on her hip as if she meant business.

Fanning herself with the postcard, she proceeded to confide in you about her recent life changes. “I can’t actually stay long, Mr. Bertolucci’s got me on doc review tonight.”

You halted suddenly in the middle of preparing the drink, a wooden spoon suspended in the air, green powder swirling like dust motes around the tea bowl. The chashaku and the chawan.

“You’re Ben’s new intern?” you questioned, giddy with excitement.

“Yeah…? It’ll count towards my college credit. I’m a journalism major,” she clarified before teasing, “That also means I’ll be in town for a while, so you better get used to me! Say, you know the guy?”

You laughed soundly as you whisked the matcha into a thick paste with a traditional chasen. Looks like he took your suggestion to heart after all. “He’s a regular.”

Steaming the full-cream milk to perfection, you frothed it up before adding it layer by layer to the paste, your hand moving with practiced precision to create a delicate pattern in the bowl. When you were satisfied with the piece, you gave it to Claire, and at the same time, pointed to the armchair in the corner. “Usually sits over there and works through the night.”

“Yeah, he’s really passionate about it,” Claire concurred, cupping the bowl that she received from you with both hands. “I like that he doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit.”

“Just make sure you get enough rest too,” you reminded her. “Have plenty of breaks.”

“Thanks, mom…” she quipped, rolling her eyes as she punched your shoulder playfully. “So, how’s our all-star cop doing?”

“Leon?” you asked casually, busying yourself with arranging the drinkware and ingredients even though you had already laid them out the night before. “He pops by every so often.”

“Like, every day…?” she probed.

How did she—?

You paused your fiddling and peered up at her. “Who told you that?”

A devilish smirk emerged. “I heard it straight from the horse’s mouth.” She took a sip from the bowl, her face lightening up in contentment. 

“He kept jabbering on about you, hounding me to visit your shop. Not that I wasn’t planning to myself already,” she sighed exasperatedly.

“Oh.” You continued where you left off, this time taking a dry cloth to polish the glassware for the umpteenth time. If you squinted hard enough, there was always a speck of dust you missed.

“It seems you’re now very interested in that glass,” she said, exposing the truth of the matter behind your evasiveness. 

Damn, she would make a good journalist.

“He likes the menu, speaking of which, how’s the Matcha Latte?” you changed the subject smoothly.

“I’m sure he likes a lot more than that,” she muttered into the bowl before raising her voice to reply, “I love it! It tastes like the real deal—”

Suddenly, the door flung open, and you could hear Ben calling out with a sense of urgency, “Redfield! I got something on the footage, you might wanna check it out!” 

He tossed a roll of film over to Claire, who dove and caught it like a baseball player in a major league game. Then, he craned his neck in your direction. “The strongest coffee you've got, to go. I think we’re onto something here!”

Giving him a mock salute, you whipped up the Triple Espresso that he was fond of and poured it into a takeaway cup, fastening on the lid as you handed it over to him.

“Life saver,” he mumbled, slipping you the cash for both drinks with a generous tip before dashing out of the shop with Claire in tow, who managed to yell out a quick “Bye!” as she ran after him.

You only had a few minutes to rest until you heard a loud commotion coming from the outside. Hurrying to the door, you could make out the voices of Leon and another boisterous man, as if he had drunk something stronger.

“This the place?”

“No, Ryman, I’m not taking you in there! Let’s get you home.”

“Why? I’ve got two legs, don’t I? Never asked for a babysitter.”

“You won’t like it anyway, it’s not a bar.”

“Aww, come on, rookie! Gotta show me this girl you’re head over heels for!”

“It’s not like that! And don’t call me by that name!”

“Or what, Kennedy? You gonna sue me?”

At this, you swung the door open, and the two men stared at you sheepishly from the entrance. “Would you like to come in?” you gestured towards the shop behind you amicably.

The dumbfounded look on the brunette’s face gradually morphed into a smug smirk. The sharp smell of alcohol wafted from his breath. “How could I say no to a sweetheart like you?”

You noticed Leon cringing internally at the man’s flirtatious behavior as they both ambled in. Passing by, Leon gave you a weak smile before drawing close, whispering apologetically, “Sorry about my colleague, he can be quite a handful.”

Your lips stirred, but no words came. Maybe you didn’t have any for what you wanted to express. Instead, your hand moved on its own accord, touching his shoulder and tracing down his arm. He shivered in response, his breathing uneven as he reached up and clasped your hand in his, brushing his thumb against its back. “I—”

“Hey, Romeo, over here!” the other man shouted from across the room, already seated snuggly at the counter row.

Letting go, your hand dropped limply back to your side as Leon ripped his gaze away, grumbling at the interruption as he sluggishly lumbered over to its source.

“Anything I can get you?” you asked as you shifted behind the counter.

“Hmm, that’s a loaded question, sweet cheeks. What wouldn’t I like to have?” the man laughed, only to have it cut short with an ‘oof’ when Leon nudged him in the ribs.

“Right, where are my manners? The name’s Kevin,” he followed up, extending his hand which you shook while using the other to rub his side sorely.

“We were just at Jack’s Bar,” Leon informed you, his words chosen carefully. You managed to read between the lines of what he was hinting at and swiftly whipped up one of your special remedies.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Kevin inquired eagerly as you laid out two portions of the mixture before them.

“Try it,” Leon answered for you as Kevin picked it up gingerly, examining it as if it were some kind of odd specimen.

“Bottoms up,” Kevin muttered, as he downed the pearly, alabaster liquid in one go. 

His face first twisted into an amorphous shape until his features relaxed and he nodded in approval. “Herby, but pretty damn good. What the hell is it?”

“Cough syrup,” you jested. It took them a while before they got the joke and joined in the laughter.

“Tell me if you still have a hangover tomorrow,” you instructed after they had settled down.

“What am I, the test subject?” Kevin blurted out. “And this, the cure?”

“It’s worked on most people,” you shrugged.

“Cute. Anyway, did you slip my friend here a love potion, ’cause—ow! Hey! What the—”

“Ryman…” Leon warned, as you watched the events unfolding before you with amusement.

You saw Kevin mumble something into the irate officer’s ear about “being his wingman” before turning towards you with a charming smile. Then, he addressed his colleague again, “Talking about minxes, what did you think about that lady in red today at the station?”

All at once, Leon’s face darkened and his mouth curled into a frown. “I don’t trust her.”

Patting his back, Kevin concurred, “Neither do I, Kennedy. She can flash that fancy FBI badge all she wants, but I smell bullshit.”

“Chief Irons seems to take to her.”

This seemed to annoy Kevin even more as he spat, “Chief Irons is a—” but then paused, realizing the situation he was in. Glancing at you, he sighed, “Yeah, foul mouth, my bad.”

“I don’t mind,” you admitted, guessing that the man was trying to keep up appearances for the sake of his friend.

“Keep an eye on her,” he advised Leon, who seemed to agree with him for once. “I’m gonna run some background checks. Doesn’t sit right with me how she can access all our private files like that.”

Fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket, he offered it around, but the both of you declined politely. Dumping some cash on the table, he hopped off his seat and grunted, “Well, I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds for the night.”

Before Leon could utter a single word, Kevin yanked him by the collar like an older brother roughhousing his younger sibling and said, “You better get in there before I do, rookie.” 

With a brazen laugh, he ruffled the blonde boy’s hair and sprinted for the door, leaving whoever was left behind to clean up the mess he made.

Burying his face into his hands, Leon groaned loudly as you snickered at him. “Cool guy,” you mentioned.

“He’s a piece of work,” came his muffled reply.

“I’m sure he just wanted the best for you,” you comforted.

There was an audible snort as Leon took his face out of his hands and peered at you. “What season do you like the most?”

You almost stumbled backwards at the abrupt change of topic and being thrust into the spotlight again. “Now, where did that come from?”

“I’m curious.”

You searched his eyes, but upon realizing he was not going to let up, you humored him, “When the air turns crisp and the daylight shifts tonally, so everything is awash in amber.”

He perked up, his smile widening as you continued, “And the smell of pine, spice, and bonfire just floods your senses.”

“The time before nature goes into hibernation—I know, I love it too,” he finished your sentence.

“Did you go hunting a lot back home?”

“I swear—” he laughed.

You had an idea of what he was referring to. “It was just a hunch.”

He nodded. “At this rate, you must be psychic. But yeah, I did. My dad brought me.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Mm-hmm. He taught me to take only what we need,” he recounted wistfully. “And those walks in the woods—god, I miss that. Just having the time, space, and quiet to think.”

Finally, he gazed at you, swallowing as if there were a lump in his throat. “I know this is a long way off, but… would you like to come with me next fall?”

“I’d love to.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune