#and i need to brush my teeth bc i can only do that in the shower now for some reason
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Note
hi very late but may I request a cute cg!jaehyun taking care of a VERY fussy little!reader hehehehehhehehehehheheh cant wait to see what u write :)) (saying this bc I was very late but I saw you saying like a week or 2 after u saying u wanted to write jaehyun fics..)
no ! ( but okay ) caregiver ! jeong yoonoh x age regressor ! reader
genres age regression content , fluff warnings reader has hair long enough to put behind the ears dni nsfw / kink author's note FAV MOOT . i will go to war for you . as someone who is extremely fussy when small , you and i are cut from the same cloth . hope u like it ! tag list restarting ! lmk if you would like to be added .
âNo, no, noâŚâ
âCome on, Honey.â
âNot finish yet.â You ignore Jaehyunâs gentle hand pushing the hair behind your ear, scribbling your crayon furiously to the paper on the floor like a painter struck with genius inspiration.
âCan we finish this later? Tomorrow, maybe?â
âNo, no, no, no, noâŚâ
Jaehyunâs eyes flutter shut. Youâve entered your ânoâ phase all of a sudden and it has been carving at his patience. Itâs not that he never wants you to say no, but when it comes to eating your lunch or cleaning up your toys or changing out of your outside clothes for comfy, clean inside clothes, he canât deny itâs frustrating. He just wants the best for his baby, why canât you see that?
âBaby.â He looks down at the phone in your other hand, currently shining a terrifying (in Jaehyunâs opinion) four-finned shark-dinosaur-thing. Papers surround your curled-up ball self on the floor, each one detailing a different kind of dinosaur. âThe dinos need to sleep too, baby. We need to start getting ready now so you donât forget to brush your teeth âcause youâre just so sleepy.â
âNuh-uh. Dinos canât sleep. Theyâre dead.â
His shoulders slump in his crisscrossed sitting position in front of you. Itâs difficult to keep up with the canonical and non-canonical existences of your baby world.
âOkay⌠maybe. But when they were alive, they had to sleep.â
ââŚmaybe.â You throw him a bone! Finally, it only took an hour.
âYeah?â He places a hand over the screen. âThere are those pretty eyes. Hi Honey.â
âHi, Hyunnie.â You frown. âHyunnie let go.â
âThe phone told me heâs very tired and would like to go to bed now. Sorry, baby.â
âNot true, phones donât talk.â
âMine does.â He gives you a look that says âso embarrassing for youâŚâ
You squint at him, unamused.
âHyunnie let go.â
âSorry, sweetheart. My hand fell asleep. Right here.â He shines his dimples at you innocently.
âLet go!â Your blue crayon is left forgotten to roll under the couch as you pull and pull on Jaehyunâs arm.
âNo!â He sings, finally taking matters into his own hands, quite literally, by pulling you onto his lap. âBed time. Bed time for my baby.â
He rocks you side to side, cheek resting on the top of your head as he confines you in between his arms.
âNo!â You squirm around but to no avail. âNo bedtime. No tired!â
âMmm, yes!â You feel his lips press to your head. âBedtime, bedtime. Time for jammies and teeth brushing and stories. Doesnât that sound fun, baby?â
âNo!â
âYes!â
âNo!â
âYes!â
âNo-o-o-o-o-o!â Your voice shakes as Jaehyunâs soft rocking turns more into a shake one would give only to a potato sack.
âYe-e-e-e-e-es!â He smiles down at you as he finishes his best imitation of your little tantrum.
âNo.â You frown up at him, but his eyes catch the quirks at the end of your lips that you fail to push down.
âYes.â
âNo.â
âYes!â He attacks your cheek with a kiss, littering your face with them as he continues. âYes, yes, yes, yes, yes!â
âBut why?â You give in, allowing yourself to go limp in Jaehyunâs hold.
âBecause,â He mocks your whiny tone. âItâs late. Itâs late and you get really mean when you donât sleep enough.â
âThatâs not true!â
âHey.â He pinches your nose. âWhy are you fighting me so much lately? It absolutely is true and you know it. Do you want Hyunnie to be all sad and weepy tomorrow? Iâll cry. You know I will. Wanna see? W-â
âNo!â You giggle, putting both your hands up to cover his face. âDonât wanna see Hyunnie sad. But am just no tired, Hyunnie.â
Another kiss to your palms lets Jaehyun see your face again.
âBut I am. Canât you just get ready for bed with me? Itâs so scary to be alone.â He pulls you into his chest, squeezing but never too tight. âSo scary! I need my Honey to help me!â
âNot scary, Hyunnie.â You giggle. âBut okay. Honey help!â
âReally?â He pulls you away to meet your eyes and bumps your foreheads together. âReally really? For reals? How many reals are you talking?â
âAll the reals!â You beam.
âOh, thank you, baby. You sure are doing Hyunnie a solid.â
â
You didnât realize how cold you were until you put your pajamas on, soft and warm, still smelling of laundry detergent. Itâs like wearing a blanket and you rub the fabric against your arms to warm yourself up some more.
Your socks slide against the wooden floor as you hear Jaehyun take his turn to brush his teeth in the bathroom. You left a total mess! Your artwork is all over the floor, what if you lost one?
Not feeling like wanting to clean up at the moment, you put your crayon box on the coffee table to put it in its proper place tomorrow.
Wait.
Youâre missing one!
Where did it go?
You hum to yourself as you gather all your drawings in a neat pile, making a mental note to yourself to date them all in the morning. You search under the table and behind pillows and blankets. Where is your green crayon?
âAh-hah!â Jaehyun spots you back in the living room, face to the floor.
âBaby, what are you doing?â
âFound my crayon, Hyunnie. Thought I lost it.â You lift yourself up, pulling your hand out from under the couch to show it to Jaehyun proudly.
âIâm glad you didnât lose it, Honey.â He smiles. âBut you didnât have to get on the floor for that. Youâre gonna get your jammies dirty.â
ââs okay! Needed my crayon.â You kneel over to slide the crayon back amongst its brethren in the paper box.
âDonât you have a lot of other ones?â He helps you up by the hand.
âNot the same. Different shade oâ green.â
âMmm, makes sense.â Jaehyun notices the pile of paper on your arm. âYouâre taking your drawings to bed?â
âYeah. Not tired so Honeyâs gonna do storytime today.â
âOh, really? Thank you, baby. Youâre gonna teach me about dinosaurs?â
âYeah.â You flop onto the bed. âDinosaurs are super cool.â
âBut arenât they scary?â Jaehyun flicks off the light in the middle of the ceiling, warm soft light from your nightstands keeping the room from complete darkness.
âNo. âcause theyâre dead,â You explain simply.
â..right. I forgot that for a second.â He lifts the covers and slides inside the bed, shivering at the still-cold sheets. âYour drawings are just so good, baby, I thought they were pictures.â
âI get that a lot,â You say, rubbing your head against his arm. âYou ready?â
âReady Freddy.â
âWhoâs Freddy?â
âI donât know.â Jaehyun pauses to think. âSomeone whoâs ready, I guess. Go on, baby. Show me your dinos.â
âOkay!â You go through your pile of drawings and end up deciding on your most recent creation. âThis oneâs not finished, but itâs called a Liopleurodon. It existed in the Jurassic period. It was an apex predatorâthat means that no one could fight it and win! It just went chomp chomp and everybody died.â
âOh, I see. Itâs kind of like you, in a way.â
âWhat?!â
author's note ( pt 2 ) sorry for taking so long ! i have no excuse , just trying to deny the reality of valentine boy being gone . haven't been keeping up w nct lately bc of irl stuff + the boycott so if anyone has a google drive or anything like that for sm artists , pls lmk ! and as always , comments and constructive criticism are accepted and encouraged . just be nice or i will be finding your loved ones ' contact information and telling them you're CYBER BULLYING . hope everyone is having a good day and if not i hope it gets better !!
#sfw interaction only#cg!nct#cg!nct 127#cg!127#cg!jeong jaehyun#cg!jeong yoonoh#cg!jaehyun#cg!jeong jaehyun x reader#cg!idol#agere!reader#little!reader#jaehyun x reader#jung jaehyun x reader#nct jaehyun x reader#jaehyun fluff#kpop agere#agere kpop#nct fluff#agere sfw#cg!bias#nct fanfic
32 notes
¡
View notes
Text
.
#it went!!! idk lately my pain treshhold has been so low bc im in pain all the time#so i just dont wnna be in pain anymore... he said that now it'll still hurt for a few days T-T#but he wasnt exactly sure what it was but i had.. a cavity??#im not rlly sure abt the english terms for all of this but the tooth is dying lol#but instead of immediately killing it nd getting a root fill he said that we should give the tooth a chance#so he fixed what he could fix#i hate dentist treatments bc of all the air nd water nd my anxiety i need to swallow constantly#but this time i actually told them abt it nd he was very helpful sksks#he even said 'ok now take a break nd swallow' so i didnt need to be so anxious#nd it was a relief bc he wasnt bad at all. he was actually rlly nice nd easy to talk to phewww#it cost abt $80 so i can manage to be without that until next week!!!!#so yeah it went much better than i had anticipated so im happy abt that#but yeah the problem still isnt 100% fixed yet so im still not relieved#he said i had a cavity in my other tooth as well but that we needed to check that at another time#im so frustrated bc i brush my teeth 2/day i use mouthwash i floss....#and for the last 7 months i havent even had any sugar!!!!! like why did this still happen.. o.o#oh nd he also said that i probably clench my teeth nd yeah i do that a lot more than i've realized#your teeth arent supposed to be touching!! never!! only when u eat#my teeth.... are touching pretty much all day omg. bc im so tense nd anxious#he said that he couldnt be sure bc he didnt have enough info to go on but that could have contributed to this#well well... i did it nd went even if i didnt want to#hopefully my tooth will be better now. nd i have another appt in may to see what i could get done further#if financial aid for it gets approved tho it might not#but yeah.. god dental pain nd issues is my no. 1 fear bc im poor nd i cant afford it
8 notes
¡
View notes
Text
i hate that kind of task procrastination that's bc of like 20 minor things that are In Your Way where each minor thing is easily solvable but the amount of them plus the prospect of doing the Actual Task afterward just. no
#im so tired#i dont want to do anything because im in pain and tired#i need to shower badly#because i havent in like a week#but i just#there's too many things in the way#i have to fix my shower chair so i can sit on it properly bc i had to adjust it for cutting my hair#but the adjustment makes it harder to use the normal way#so i have to fix it#i want to be able to see but i cant shower with the lights on anymore#partially because the bathroom lights got replaced and are way brighter and hurt my eyes so i'd have to take out like three bulbs#i have to wash my hair but that's *exhausting*#the more i shower without washing my hair the worse it gets but washing my hair is an *ordeal*#holding my arms up for so long just kills me#and having to do that MULTIPLE TIMES IN A ROW bc not only shampoo and conditioner but also MEDICATED shampoo#and i need to dig through my laundry for viable clothes#and i need to brush my teeth bc i can only do that in the shower now for some reason#and just#i dont want to take a shower
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Also, because I need to remind myself sometimes, there is no "wrong time" to brush your teeth in the day. You don't have to do it before breakfast and after dinner and right around lunch time. If you just ate and then remembered you haven't brushed your teeth yet, you can do it then. If you're about to eat dinner but you just got out of the shower so you're already in the bathroom and you might as well, do it then. If it's the middle of the day and you're just taking a pee break and see your toothbrush on the counter and remember you didn't brush this morning, now is as good a time as any. I used to not brush my teeth because I'd say "well I know I want ice cream after dinner, so i should wait until after the ice cream to get all the sugar off" and then by the time I had dinner and ice cream, I'd forgotten all about brushing, or I was too tired to go do it. But brushing your teeth before eating something sugary is still brushing your teeth. It's still going to be healthier for them than not doing it at all. OP is right that there's nothing shameful or immoral about not brushing your teeth, but it is important to look after your health as much as you can, and I know I always feel better mentally when my hygiene is taken care of. You deserve to have a healthy, comfortable body, as much as is possible for you.
it's never too late to start brushing your teeth again. i basically never brushed my teeth for a whole 10 years. a decade. A DECADE. i still struggle to brush my teeth once a week, but it all started with brushing my teeth once every few months. so i mean it when i say brushing your teeth once a week, a month, a year, or even a decade, is better than nothing.
and still, nothing is not shameful. it is not immoral to struggle with self care. and it is also not pointless to keep trying. anything you can do, even if its wiping plaque off with a towel, is enough. it is good to take care of yourself however you can, even if it's just trying to muster the will to. reading this post is good, too.
i believe in you and i am proud of you, even in the smallest of steps. it's okay. you can give yourself grace.
#also get an electric toothbrush if you can!#they can be expensive but only if you pay for them#they require less effort and they do a better job of cleaning your gum line and between your teeth#which is where most of the problems really happen#theyre noisy and sometimes they feel weird so i would recommend keeping a backup manual brush#esp if you are prone to sensory issues#but they do help!#also also! you can have as many toothbrushes as you need! especially if you live alone!#you can keep one toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste at each sink in your house!#keep one in the shower! my therapist put me on to brushing my teeth in the shower#and i dont do it anymore bc of the electric brusg#but doing that is what got me to start brushing my teeth more often and now i brush them just about every time i shower anyway#and re: sensory issues#its so so important to find a toothpaste you can deal with#you can use kids toothpaste!!! you are allowed to buy the bubblegum flavored toothpaste if you want!!!#if its going to help you be able to brush more!!
29K notes
¡
View notes
Text
god heavy periods always make me so damn sleepy. I haven't even been up all that long yet. granted, I was technically awake for longer, since I set a couple of alarms that I promptly ignored... ugh, I feel so unproductive, tho. and I want smth, but I don't know what, and I know that we don't have anything anyway, which means that the point is moot.
#also I need to brush my teeth; according to my brain#which. it's right ofc. but brushing requires flossing first; which means trimming and filing nails first bc they're kind of long#and thus it's harder to clean under them; and while I do my best the thought is still uh. kind of gross!#and I just don't have the energy for that rn#I also have been needing to clean some of my silicone earbud ear pieces so that I can swap out and clean the Other pair I use#but I can't seem to make myself do That either#god these shoes stink I wish I could afford a couple of new pairs or more.#swapping out helped prevent this sort of thing; at least in the excess that it is now. but the other pair has a hole that I can feel#the floor through in one of the soles; which are pretty badly cracked on that side#ugh. I wish things were simple. I want to be able to buy things for myself; being an adult was supposed to have that come with it but ig no#doesn't help that I can only do One Thing and not particularly well at that#it's exhausting anymore to even try
1 note
¡
View note
Text
Flossing my teeth and getting in the gums like Yes I'm going to get a good grade in dental care. Which is normal to want and possible to achieve.
#speculation nation#every time i go to the dentist they tell me to floss and every time i have not kept up with it#this time tho. im trying. ive only missed one day so far. since tuesday.#they said ive got some gum loss on my right side since half a year ago :(((#but i can fix it. and so i will. so im flossing my teeth. and when it gets here i'll use the mouth wash they recommended.#the whole deal. full dental hygiene. not gonna lose any teeth in MY 30s no sir!!!!!#managed to get myself on a good brushing schedule. with an electric toothbrush!!!#used to be id often skip evening bc i was too tired. but now it's part of the whole routine. i gotta do it.#it's a thing of like. i always go pee before bed bc i have a small bladder and i'll wake up to go pee if i dont go before bed.#and so i go to the bathroom then i wash my hands and when im at the sink right then. hands still wet. i brush my teeth.#and see this makes flossing harder. bc well flossing should be done before brushing. but i need dry hands for it.#so it cant be a part of the bathroom evening routine. so well how do i remember to do it??#ive had my floss set up where i sit to watch tv and game so that i can floss in the evening while watching shit#i think im gonna put up another post it note on the tv. i put one up for remembering my vitamins and it does help#doesnt make me remember all the time. sometimes i dont remember if ive taken them or not. so i end up not.#but it does help. look @ the side of the tv and see 'Did you take your vitamins?' and im like no sir i have not! thank you for the reminder!#and if i put one for flossing then itll be in my brain more consistently. and thus i will remember it more readily.#mouth wash is fine. i can do that after brushing. evening routine secured.#now u may ask why i cant just dry my hands before flossing after using the bathroom. and well that wouldnt WORK.#it'd still be slippery and see the key to evening brushing is to just do it automatically. hands are wet its evening lets brush now#ive had it happen before where im getting ready for bed but im like 'ok not brushing Yet... gonna eat a quick snack first'#but im at that sink and im zoned out and suddenly i have a toothbrush in my mouth. and im just like Drat.#just gotta. just gotta hack the system. ok see theres a system and i just gotta hack it.#i will get to the good dental hygiene. i really do not want to lose my teeth young đđđđđ
1 note
¡
View note
Text
my tags got out of hand
i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.
and that should be fine; but it's never fine.
i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.
for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.
we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.
i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.
restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.
#oh my god iâm not the only person in the whole world who has Struggles and Difficulties#i am in pharmacy school which means i have no money no time etc and so every single thing that would bring an iota of joy or escape#must be cut for time because you havenât studied for your exam next month so no you cannot start watching that the show.#and because you missed the deadline two weeks ago for that group project that the others did for you there will be no sitting at the piano#also you made a c and not a b on the exam yesterday so maybe instead of ordering takeout like you said you were going to#(because you know that you donât buy real food on the rare occasion you go to the grocery store)#instead youâre gonna have to pick through your bare cabinets and empty fridge freezer for something. or just not eat#like you sometimes do#this is not a problem bc youâve saved your money which you canât afford to waste#thatâs what they told you when you started: tell your friends you canât see them much because a doctoral program is a time commitment#they said: you need to quit your side hustles and get an internship#they said: you need to ask for cleaning supplies for your birthdayâand clothes and shoes bc tuition is very expensive#this isnât some deficiency on your part. everyone else lives in isolation with no hobbies or entertainment too.#the only difference is that THEY spend all that time studying and reviewing and working and preparingâ#while YOU are laying in bed all day because the thought of writing that paragraph is nauseating and tomorrows exam is slowly enveloping you#and you can tell because you had to retake those 2 classes and you have to retake another one this summer.#never mind that you still donât know anything. just keep playing the part. stay afloat until this weekâs exam is over#then you can worry about next weekâs exams#(you WILL worry about next weekâs exams)#learning the ukulele isnât going to ease your stress itâs just gonna make you feel guilty#what do you mean you already feel guilty because youâve pulled the ukelele out exactly twice since mom gave it to you for christmas?#that webseries updates 4 times a week. can you honestly tell me that you have 4 hours a week where you donât feel shame#about not exceeding expectations anymore?#i thought not. close your computeâ you didnât even take it out of your bag.#do you ever take it out of your bag at home?#you donât.#well i can see why youâre such a fucking failure#itâs 3:27 am but âi wonât bother telling you to shower or brush your teeth- i know you donât do that.#you went to bed three and a half hours ago now itâs time to sleep#maybe weâll see what tomorrow has for us
5K notes
¡
View notes
Text
godamit im smoking again and my tolerance goes all the way down to 0 if i dont do it everyday. i think i havent smoked since either sun or mon and i just took a teeny baby hit and coughed a bunch and im prolly gonna get too high before i can actually enjoy it
#We Are Weird With Weed tm#also i have this fucked up shit going on#its like a sore throat but also it isnt#feels like an area of my throat is bruised and only notice it when i swallow but when i stick my finger in my mouth i can feel#a specific pained area and it may be teeth related bc ive started only brushing my teeth like once every 3 days and i kno its an absolutely#horrible habit and i need to start doing it 2x a day again but maybe my entire mouth and gums and throat is falling apart and rotting cuz#of my teeth but that prob isnt whats happening i prolly just have a weird sore throat or something from screaming many lyrics
0 notes
Text
WY@ !
â âeven i know you ainât no good for me, but you feel so good to meâ feat. toji fushiguro & nanami kento (separate)
WARNING. you know you shouldnât be messing with them, but fuck it feels good. femreader (she/her) v in p, dirty talk. missionary, hatefucking toj, namis ur boss, corruption kink kinda in nanamis, pervy nanami, ( 1.3k ) note. kindaaa ib wy@ by brent faiyaz mhm. thank you all for the support, hope u all enjoy bc i genuinely enjoyed writing this !!
TOJI FUSHIGURO â YOUR EX
âlook at how fucking wet you are fâme baby. making a mess all over my fingers. i know you fucking miss me. cmonnn, come back to be, dollâ
youâre trying so hard to mask the raw, carnal desire that pools and swirls deep in the pit of your core, refusing to stroke at his overgrown ego any further because being here, pressed up against his stupidly muscular frame after yelling hitting, and swearing to the heavens down to hell that heâd never see you again is already more than enough.
ân-noâ you spit, an attempt to sound firm but it only comes out as a little whine making him erupt in laughter as he brings his dripping, slicked-up fingersâ theyâre glistening, covered in your mess, to your face, spreading them in front of you to make you watch how you web and coat every inch of his thick digits, âdunno why youâre tryna act all hard âs obvious you want me. pussyâs basically talkinâ ta me.â
âshut up and fuck me alreadyâ you never fail to bite.
âonly âcause you asked soo nicely,â but he always bites back.
now heâs folding you over, pushing against the backs of your thighs so he can bully his thick cock into your more than welcoming pussyâ heâs fucking into you like he hates you, knocking the air out of your lungs with every stroke, his pelvis brushing up against your clit because heâs soo deep, reminding you who your walls belong to.
âshiit tojâ itâs-â
âoh, now iâm tojâ, hm?â he tilts his head, black hair hanging to the side, raising his pitch to mock your whiny tone. you hate him. originally you had only came over to pick up some clothes you had left when you first moved out. it all happened too quick, the argument starting over something so small, you were bound to forget some things.
you told him you were coming over to get your things; he knew. so the lack of a shirt, the towel that loosely wrapped underneath the deep cut of his v-line was no coincidence. one second you were looking through his drawers for your stuff, the nextâ well, now youâre getting the shit fucked out of you.
each time he drags his heavy cock against your walls stuffing your little pussy, each time he calls you his, tells you how dirty you are for him, you slowly start to forget why you broke up with him in the first place.
âplayinâ tug a war with my, dick baby. shits so tight fuuuuck, nobody been in it since me, huh?â
you shake your head against the sheets, your resolve now dry and gone thanks to his cock pressing your sweet spot over and over and over, moans flowing past your slack jaw, âno. no oneâ
âgood fucking girl. you know nobody can fuck you like i do. who pussy is this?â heâs grunting out straight filth and heâs got that stupid smirk on his face, teeth flashing underneath the characteristic scar.
but you donât want to give into himâ fighting till the end, so you mumble a âyoursâ your head falling to the side to avoid his dark eyes, opting to stare at the blank walls that have heard your scream for him time and time again.
but he stops, fully plugging you up, making your body tense and keen. âcanât hear you, doll?â
you truly do hate him, ââm not movinâ till you answer my question. you can lay there and warm my cock all night, âs fine by me.â with every fiber in your being.
but still, you whine out a desperate ââs yoursâ a little louder, heat spreading and scorching every inch of your body like waves of molten lava. because you need it. so bare and exposed for him, so vulnerable.
âwho?â
âyourâs toji! your pussy, all yours!â
he loves breaking you down like this, pounding you to a pulp, leaving you so small and empty underneath him to pick up and glue back together.
âthere you goâ he hums, âwasnât so hard was it?â before rocking against you again, finally, finally scratching that itch so deep in your cunt only he can reach it. he knows it and with how you keep coming back, he knows you know it, too.
KENTO NANAMI â YOUR BOSS
mr. nanami, or kento as he repeatedly encourages you to call him with a sweet honeyed smile, has a thing for the cute, bright-eyed new girls that come into the office. heâll fuck em a few times, dump out his warm cum, empty his balls then move onto the next.
but with you, it was different.
you didnât stumble into his office as hurriedly as the others, didnât pick up on the subtle hints he would drop, brushing his hand against your shoulder, grazing your blouse or squeezing your arm with his large hands, reassuring you when worried about your workload like a good boss should.
but you never got it. and it made him want you even more.
so he decided to make it painstakingly obvious. saying he needed you to stay later than everyone else that night to fill out some very important paperwork you missed when you were first hired.
walking into his office .. felt different, he felt different. its dark and most importantly, his desk is empty, not a single sheet of âimportant paperworkâ in sight on the brownish wood that raises and decorates his modernly adorned office.
âsir?â you chime, grabbing his attention because he was lost in thought, adjusting himself against his black office chair with a grunt.
he smiles at you, sweetly, to hide his hunger. like a big bad wolf in sheepâs clothing âyes, come in. over here. next to meâ
you shuffle over to where he sits, his back to the tall windows that loom and overlook the city, perched up on the top floor.
âcome sitâ heâs humming, patting at the large bulge in his lap making you gulp. but you obey with a shaky, âo-okâ
heâs your boss after all.
you sit, your thighs opening, spread for him on either side of his, making your tight pencil skirt rise and bunch up around your ass. his hands move to map your now exposed upper thighs, a smile growing on his lips.
âyouâre such a hard worker. always turning in high-quality work. on time, too. i wanted to give you a reward.â
he moves higher, higher, and oh.
youâre not wearing any panties.
.. which is odd because he peaked earlier when you were bending over to pick up some dropped papersâ could'nt help his curious eyes, and he couldâve sworn you had on cute little thong. yellow. his favorite. did you take them off? just for him? fuck, you know exactly how to drive him crazy, maybe you werenât so innocent after all.
âwould you like that?â he pulls you in closer, your bare cunt now flushed against his unfortunately clothed cock, drooling onto the cottony fabric of his dress pants.
and you smile, âiâd like anything you give me, kento.â
the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. twitching against you as he unbuckles his pants, the sound of metal clacking filling your ears and making you squirm against him, your pussy clenching around nothing needy for his thick cock.
he barely pushes them down, just enough to let his cock spring out, hissing when you move forward to press your sloppy, messy cunt against him. then he groans, grabbing at the back of your neck underneath your hair to make you watch as he slides in, forcing his cock past your puffy lips into your tight little hole.
youâre already hooked on the stretch. your jaw slacking open at how he fills you all the way up. your perv of a boss, slicking your walls with his precum.
âhow â fuck, how long have you wanted to fuck me, hm?â
you press your hand against his chest, using it as leverage to roll and rock your hips against him.
âsince i first laid my eyes on you, sweetheartâ
#á°.á â soâs diary#toji fushiguro#nanami kento#toji smut#nanami smut#toji x reader#nanami x reader#jjk#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x y/n#jjk x reader smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#nanami x reader smut#nanami x y/n#nanami x you#toji x reader smut#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader
3K notes
¡
View notes
Text
.
Ignore
#delete later#im upset and frustrated and feel like a freak#i shouldbt find these things so difficult. its fucking stupid. i know i need to do them i know what time abd where to go abd who to call#but i can't i cant make myself do it bc there's no plan but i cant plan atm bc im so overwhelmed all the time so im stuck#these things are so EASY and i cant do them. but i can do so many other things that are supposed to be hard and it is so frustrating#and i feel like a child and i feel so small and i cant i have to be an adult so i have to put on the adult mask and i cant do ittttttttttt#it hurtssss and my head hurts so much abd my jaw hurts so much abd i hyst want to sleep forever and everything to go away#i want to not have to take care of myself for a bit. but i have to. i have to do laundry abd cook and eat and brush my teeth abd wash my#hair even though its so hard and im ao tired and it makes my brain ache so bad#i keep turning off to do thibgs bc it's the only way and i hate it abd it makes ut worse#so tired#ive always been so proud that i can do so many things without help abd without relying on ppl#proud that i can always find a way even if it takes longer and is more difficult. i dont want it to be difficult#always having a little crisis bc why would ajyone ever want me. what do i have to offer#it is what it is. it doesnt matter#ill ask for help this weekend and forget about it again#its fine
0 notes
Text
Bakugo with the kids >:3 (bakugo x fem!reader)
This post was possible bc of @shima707 they commented on my bkg dad post for more so i decided to write more :D
"Daddy, Shoko's cryin' again." Mayako says shaking her father. Katsuki usually sleeps in on Sundays with you by his side but for some reason he's waking up upon the fact that the newest addition to the family is crying.
"Where's mommy at? Tell her to get Shoko." He mumbles under the covers. Mayako gets off the bed to open the blackout curtains which causes Katsuki to groan loudly.
"I looked for mommy but she's not here!!" Katsuki perks up at those words, where could you be early on a Sunday morning?
"She's not here? That's weird, she woulda told me if she was goin' somewhere." Mayako glares at her father, it's actually pretty ironic. Katsuki feels like he's staring at himself.
Your blond husband rises from bed to brush his teeth, this was not how he imagined his day would start.
"Can you get one of Shoko's clean bottles off the rack, Maya?" he asks between brushes.
"Mommy already made a bottle for her its in the fridge left with a note to warm it up." Katsuki finds it strange that you left without saying anything. The hero jogs his memory trying to remember if you said anything about going out on Sunday.
Once he's freshened up, he makes his way to the nursery with Mayako by his side like a little assistant or something.
"Your brothers 'wake yet?" He asks opening the nursery door, he is met by loud cries from his little one.
"I think Kaien is awake, not sure about Kitaro." Katsuki nods, he picks up his daughter with his washed hands. He wanted all of his kids to have K names like him but you argued it'd be too confusing. You agreed on both your sons having K names but you named Shoko and Mayako.
"Alright Shoko, that's enough crying." She's only about four months old which means aside from eating, pooping and peeing, crying is all she can really do. He cradles her and puts the bottle in her mouth. The cries stop immediately and she sucks on the bottle harshly.
"Daddy, please don't get mommy pregnant anymore. I'm tired of hearing crying everyday." She admits in a tired tone as if she's the one who cares for all the children. She does contribute to her siblings care though.
"Hah? I hafta hear crying every day, more than you did and how do you even know I'm the reason mommy has babies?" He's shocked to say the least, Mayako is only nine.
"Well for one mommy was always like 'I swear on my life all that man wants to do is get me pregnant' or 'I'm not having anymore of his kids after this one' so I asked Aunty Mina what she was talking about and she gave me as she called it 'a watered down version of how babies are made'." Mayako explained to her father. He should've known it was Mina.
He switched Shoko's postion so he could burp her, then he realized he needed her towel or he'd have spit up on his shirt.
"'N what exactly did Mina say?" He completely ignores that fact that you've complained about pregnancy, he's heard it all before. Whatever Mina told his daughter was something ridiculous he already knew it.
"She said that you slid your hotdog into mommy's bun and the mayo created a baby hotdog." Katsuki cringes hard. Out of all the things Mina could have told his daughter it had to be that.
"I hate that idiot so much." He mumbles. Shoko gives a good burp and a few coos. Katsuki adores the fact that Shoko has your eyes and your nose.
"Go tell Kaien to brush, Kitaro too if he's 'wake." Mayako gives a silent nod and stomps out of the nursery. Katsuki predicts that Kaien will come crying in a little bit, he and his sister clash often due to Mayako's firey temper and his softness.
He's determined to change Shoko's diaper and clothes before Kaien comes in crying.
Katsuki gets lucky and is able to start breakfast when Kaien comes crying in the kitchen. "Daddy, Mayako's being mean. I hate her!" He yells folding his arms.
"Woah kid, we don't say hate. Especially not about family." Katsuki says, he's in his 'Kiss the chef' apron in courtesy of you.
"You say hate all the time!" Kaien argues, and well, he's right. Katsuki doesn't want his child outsmarting him, though.
"That's cuz I'ma grown up." It's the best thing he can come up with at the moment. A father of four with his wife away can only do so much. He's got Shoko strapped to his chest while he's cooking.
Katsuki gets no respond from his son, so it's time to do some digging.
"What did your sister do, Kaien?" He was not at all prepared for Kaien's answer, he expected that she was bossing him around or something.
"S-she said that I can't use the spicy toothpaste because I'm a baby!" Spicy toothpaste? Oh, he must mean the mint toothpaste.
"What did you tell her?" He quickly scarmbles the eggs with the cooking chopsticks.
"I told her six isn't a baby and she said it is." Katsuki almost laughed, not at Kaien. It's just that cute little pout he has on his face.
"Maya-"
"Yeah?" She responds before her father can finish calling her name. He had a sneaking suspicion that she was lurking around the corner waiting to interject and say that her brother was wrong.
"Why can't Kaien use the spicy toothpaste?" The eggs are done so he plates them and checks on the rice. Shoko was drooling all over his collarbone even with her baby towel.
"Cuz he's only six, he should use the kid toothpaste." She says in her 'as-a-matter-of-fact' voice.
"Are you Kaien's ma?" Katsuki asks, he doesn't miss a beat while chopping the spring onions.
"No but-"
"Aht, no buts. You're not his ma so you can't go around telling him what to do. Unless of course, you're babysitting 'em." He sets the chopped onions aside and puts the rice and eggs into bowls. He makes sure all the servings are equal or he'll get complaints from his mini critiques.
"Mkay." She's sour right now.
"Where's Kitaro?" Katsuki garnishes the the food and sets it on the table.
"We both tried to wake him up but he kept saying he was tired." Mayako comments and sits in her normal spot.
"Ain't nothing for him to be tired for, he's eight." Mayako shrugs at her father's words and says thanks for the food. She and Kaien dig in.
Katsuki heads up the stairs, Shoko still strapped to him. His eyes scan the hallway and it's covered in toys. The blond makes a mental note for his kids to clean up later.
He walks over toys to reach Kitaro's room, the door's closed which isn't normal. You enforced the 'no closed doors' rule, unless someone's in the bathroom or changing.
He opens it half expecting Kitaro to be doing something bad. Instead the eight year old is snoring like he hasn't slept in years.
"Get up kid, time to eat. Go brush." He shakes Kitaro.
He just groans, pulls his covers over his head, and yawns.
"I'm tired." Katsuki raises a brow.
"Tired from what?" Once again, Kitaro's only eight, he can't be doing anything that energy consuming.
"Video games." He mumbles from under the covers.
"Tch, 's why you don't needta be playin' them. I don't know why that old hag got you a gaming system." Kitaro is sluggish getting out of the bed. Katsuki's watching him like a hawk. He watched him all the way until he was at the table.
He sees you sitting with Kaien in your lap eating some of his food because he's not likely to finish it.
"There's my baby girl!" You coo to Shoko. Katsuki undoes the baby carrier and takes her out of it. Those ruby red eyes scan your body for any indication of your activities this morning.
"Where have you been all mornin'?" Shoko babbles while Katsuki starts eating breakfast.
"I went to the gym, I'm trying to lose baby weight." You explain with a small smile.
"Tch, why's it matter? I'm your man 'n I like you the way you are." He never understood why you were so insecure.
"I'm not doing it for anyone besides myself." Kaien whines when you pick at his eggs.
"You aren't gonna eat them, little boy." You boop his nose and he tries to bite your finger.
"Too slow, Kai." He pouts, and it looks just like when Katsuki pouts.
"Why didn't ya tell me you were leavin'?" He huffs.
"Cuz you'd tell me I look good and convince me to stay." You're met by his silence which tells you you're right.
"Date night?" Katsuki asks with a sly smirk.
"No more babies!" Mayako protests.
"I agree- wait how do you-?!"
"Mina." Your husband and eldest daughter say at the same time.
"Oh I love her." It doesn't take a genius to know Mina probably told her some crazy watered down version of sex.
"Ki, hon, you look tired." He yawns at your words.
"He stayed up all night on that gaming system the old hag gave him." Your eyes widen.
"Katsuki! Your mom is not the 'h word' and I've been meaning to put parental controls on that thing." He rolls his eyes at your pg language when you normally have the mouth of a sailor when the kids aren't around.
"Whatever." The hero scoffs.
"Love you too, Kats!" You wink at him obnoxiously and he groans.
Thanks shima707 for giving me the motivation to write more, and I'm glad you enjoyed the first part! Love you guys and see ya next time <3
#bnha#mha#bakugo katsuki#bakugo#bakugo x reader#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#dad!bakugou#bakugo as a dad#katsuki bakugo#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou#bakugo fluff#bakugou fluff
6K notes
¡
View notes
Text
.
#diary#personal#something bad happened to my 4 year old cousin.#and it. sorta brought up something for me. actually. my dad brought it up while we were talking#and its probably the only thing i truely dont like thinking or talking about to anyone at all.#i hope i dont think about it for long. im tired of always thinking of *that*#haaah. i guess ill go to bed soon. i wanna brush my teeth but that happened and im a little not up to it#idk if i should or not. and idk what to do about this bc i usually cant even write about it.#its probably the one thing i can never handle. ugh. i was gonna have a good week! a good weekend!#i just wanna sleep. im also gonna have to try to make sure i dont accidentally mention this to someone.#i have a bad tendency to overshare. especially when its something serious#even worse i need to know what happens. bc i do worry.#not much to be done i guess. none at all :/
0 notes
Text
You donât usually wake up at the same time as Jihoon, but he definitely makes sure that you wake up with him everyday.
content: fluff, established relationship, idol!Jihoon x non-idol!reader, domesticity, spotify as a plot point lol
wc: 1.6k
note: inspired by this reddit post which i thought was 100% something jihoon would do especially now that i know he uses spotify lol. i feel like im the only one who finds it hardest to write for their bias, i get really in my head about whether or not im portraying him in the way I want to. iâve never written idol!au either (bc i think itâs easy to overdo) which only adds to me overthinking ahhhh but hope that you guys enjoy this one !! as always feedback or comments are appreciated 𼰠I read all of them and they make me so happy hehe
[read pt.2 here!]
Jihoon swears there's something magical about waking up to a calm and quiet morning. The sun is barely just rising, blanketing the world in a soft twilight that cuts the dark blues of the waning night. And in his bed, he finds something equally as magical: your soundly sleeping figure next to him. The world is silent except for your steady breaths, and he has to take extra caution to not fall asleep again if just to enjoy the brief moments of tranquility like this during his otherwise busy life. Eventually he gets up to start his schedule for the day, taking one last look at your peaceful slumber in fondness before he closes the door behind him.
Make no mistake, Jihoon loves his job. Having 13 members in his group is fantastic, except when you realize that 13 people requiring styling and wardrobe before every public appearance takes a lot of time. His mornings may start early, but in reality most of his time is spent listening to music in salon chairs and dozing off in waiting rooms.
In fact, it was in the middle of getting his makeup done when he discovered that around 8:20 am every day, his Spotify (which he uses to listen to his daily Bruno Mars Mix playlist) stops playing on his phone and switches to⌠the speaker at home? He bought a new speaker a few days ago because the last one you had was on its last legs from years of use, but if itâs malfunctioning already then he might have to look into getting a new speaker sooner than he thought.
Upon closer observation, Jihoon also notices that the song has changed â itâs playing one of his songs, your favorite one actually. Immediately he realizes what happened. He contemplates shooting you a text to tell you to disconnect him and just sync your own Spotify account to the speaker, youâre home more often than him anyway. That thought quickly disappears, however, as he imagines you getting ready for work listening to the sound of his voice and genuinely enjoying the music that he pours his heart and soul into, he canât bring himself to disturb you even for a moment. His eyes soften as he stares blankly at the Spotify home screen, headphones now deafeningly silent. Surely, Jihoon decides, he can live without his Bruno Mars Mix for just a while longer.
-
You sometimes wonder if your boyfriend is magic. Although a good morning text has been standard in your relationship since the beginning, it's starting to concern you how perfectly timed it is.
Normally, your morning routine is simple. Wake up. Get out of bed. Bump some tunes. Check your notifications. Brush teeth. Wash face. Get dressed. Pack bag. Leave the house.
Youâre usually the one to text him good morning given your later wake up time, yet heâs been beating you to it lately. Yes, he knows you set your alarm 8:15 everyday because it's âthe perfect amount of time you need to get ready and still make it to work on the dotâ. But that doesn't explain why ârise n shine babe :))â pops up on your phone as you brush your teeth on the days you wake up early, too.
[8:06 am] you have to tell me how you do it
[8:06 am] Do what????
[8:07 am] im onto you mister đđđ
[8:07 am] đđđ
You spiral through the possible scenarios in your head: he has your location, but that wouldnât tell him when you woke up right? Does your icon move around on the map? No, the location data isnât that accurate. Maybe when you open your phone, your Facebook status shows that youâre online? No, you know for a fact that you both havenât opened that app in years. Hmm, did he plant cameras everywhere in the apartment? Sure, you get the security utility of it but if he did it without telling you, there would be some SERIOUS things to talk about, maybe it really is all just guesswork and coincidence?
Sigh⌠youâll get to the bottom of this eventually.
-
Jihoon doesnât plan on telling you, but rather wants you to figure it out yourself. After all, heâs been dropping so many hints already. Your chill hangouts at his studio have a gentle hum of your favorite songs as background noise. He purposely asks you about the new albums of your favorite artists that, surprise, heâs already listened to. He even makes it a point to remind you that the speaker at home is hooked to his account every now and then.
Sometimes, he swears that youâve figured it out and were just messing with him when you make little comments about your his song choices like âReally babe, you listen to your own songs this often? Are you sure youâre not a narcissist or something?â But besides these moments, there was no indication that you knew about his secret morning routine as you questioned him regularly about his tactics.
He has to admit, it was kind of amusing to see you growing increasingly suspicious of how on earth he figures out when you wake up, being particularly fond of the cute annoyed face you make when he tells you âNo babe, I did not put an Air Tag in your pajamas, you barely sleep in clothes anyway.â Even your pout is adorable as you pretend to give him the silent treatment, knowing that you wouldnât be able to keep it up for long. His little secret is safe for another day.
-
Jihoon has been working brutal hours lately. As deadlines for the upcoming albums drew near, his days start earlier than ever and end equally as late. However, the one thing he can always count on is coming home to you waiting for him.
It was the night of the new album release and you were more excited than usual, greeting him at the door like a lovesick puppy as soon as you heard the door handle turning. âHi love, what are you doing up so late?â he pulls you into a quick kiss as he sets his stuff down.
âI wanted to wait to listen to the new album with you so you could see my reaction to it!â your eyes were beaming with enthusiasm. Jihoonâs heart swells at the sentiment, knowing that his partner supports him and his passions with such sincerity. You excitedly motion him to join you in your shared bedroom, full of anticipation to hear the fruits of your boyfriendâs labor for the past months. âAlright, youâre not allowed to be disappointed thenâ he jokes as he pulls out his phone, quickly finding the recently released album and making sure the volume is high enough before tapping the first track and handing it over to you.
Only a few seconds of the song passes before an idea flashes across your eyes. âWait, letâs play it on the speaker!â you interrupt. Youâre on your feet in seconds and before Jihoon could even reach over to press pause, youâve already commanded your home speaker to play the track out loud. The music immediately ceases on his phone and switches over to the speaker.
Shit, heâs done for, he thinks to himself. He studies your face carefully for any indication that heâs been found out but surprisingly, your attention is laser focused on the melodies now reverberating around your apartment. Youâre mostly quiet during the songs but the rhythmic nodding of your head and facial expressions are a tell all of how much you enjoy each track that plays, contorting in a myriad of impressed shapes as killing part after killing part reaches your ears.
As the album comes to an end you look like youâre about to burst at the seams. Your boyfriend canât control his smile as compliments and detailed thoughts flow freely from your lips for the rest of the night, not ceasing even as the both of you walk through your unwinding routines together. God, you love comeback days. The elaborate music show stages that you will undoubtedly watch later that evening has already been pre-recorded, giving you precious time together in the morning before his schedule whisks him away from your arms once again.
As you get ready for bed, you drift off to sleep knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in what seems like forever, you can finally tell him good morning in person before he can.
-
Your alarm rings at 8:15 am. Jihoon doesnât need to be up this early, but he would do anything in order to be the first thing you see when you wake. You roll around in his embrace and press a kiss to his cheek. âGood morningâ you both whisper to each other at the same time, sending you both into a fit of giggles as you argue who said it first.
Jihoon watches in adoration from the bed as you so naturally go through your morning routine, one that he misses out on more often than he would like. Today, you forgo your usual morning songs as you queue up your personal favorites off the new album, much to his delight. He tries his best to burn this scene into his memory as you gather your things and prepare to head out, giving him one last kiss. Youâre about to unlock the door when you pause in your tracks.
âBaby?â
âHmm?â he hums back from the bedroom.
âEnjoy the speaker, I canât kick you off today.â you say with a smirk on your face as you exit the apartment, leaving Jihoon speechless.
548 notes
¡
View notes
Text
wait okay so. if you stop viewing adhd as a focus issue and frame it as a internal dopamine functions aren't working issue. and if you need dopamine to do things. then. instead of thinking how can i make myself focus. you can just think how do i get external dopamine sources to make my brain machine go.
im not focusing because im not getting my internal reward im biologically supposed to get. that's why im unmotivated. i brush my teeth and i get no internal sense of satisfaction. so now i don't want to brush my teeth. if i'm not getting an internal sense of satisfaction for doing things then most tasks feel worthless. which can look like or turn into depression.
but then i find one source or one task with a bunch of dopamine like a certain fidget or hobby (recently it's been diamond painting for me) and suddenly im fine again because my brain is no longer starving. suddenly i can focus on my lectures playing in the background when im getting little hits of external dopamine from putting diamonds in the right spot. im getting the sense of satisfaction that everyone else was already getting.
or like. one day im trying to read a textbook and the words are just. not getting into my brain. so i give up and play genshin for a bit. i get dopamine in my brain. i turn back to the textbook. and suddenly. i can read again. i read for a few minutes and i'm not comprehending it anymore. i play genshin for a few minutes and then turn back to the textbook. and then i can read again. again.
people have already been saying this but it really clicked yesterday when i was trying to read a textbook for a class i love bc it's connected to a special interest but i didn't like the current chapter topic. so i wasn't getting any dopamine from the content. and of course i wasn't getting any dopamine from the act of completing the task of reading. and i was trying to think of ways i needed to multitask to focus. but i noticed i kept switching from tiktok to reading which helped. like id watch some tiktoks and there would be like a mental feeling of "okay we're at 100%" and is just toss my phone and start reading. like i didn't have to tear myself away from it.
i was literally feeding my brain. and just stopped once i got full. like putting gas in the car.
that's why i only use things if they have pretty colors or some sort of pleasing sensory input. that's where my dopamines coming from. that's why a sticker chart and playing music while brushing my teeth helped so much. to give me the sense of satisfaction i wasn't getting from my own brain.
that's why giving myself the rewards at the end of tasks didn't always work. you can't reward a car with gas if the tank is empty. i needed the dopamine to start the tasks, and more dopamine intermittently to continue longer tasks.
anyways. i'm gonna stop holding off from doing fun shit until after i finish tasks. bc in hindsight i always did better work when i put the fun stuff first. and i'm gonna stop wasting time waiting for my brain car to go when the tank was empty the whole time.
i left mid post for a little bit and came back and i didn't proofread this and it's also unfinished but i'm posting it now bc. i have DID i don't member exactly what i was tryna say. and personally i'm not reading all that.
TLDR: stop treating adhd like it's mainly a focus issue. treat it like dopamine is an external resource and it acts as gas for your brain car. how can i focus betterâ what satisfying thing can i do to help my brain initiate/focus on this taskâ
227 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fortune's Cookies
They aren't very sweet, especially when you're fooled into taking the first bite.
a/n: gosh there's literally so much rookie leon art going around and the fever got to me, hope you like my twist on this classic trope! honestly everyone listed below contributed to this with their rookie leon pieces, seriously i stared at them while writing it helps seriously.
@chesue00 - you KNOW it.
@faintfill - MY SOURCE OF ROOKIE LEON SKETCHES NO KIDDING
@uhlillie - i hope you know which one im talking about girl... DAMN
@bunnivievve - FOODDDDDDD just like i said rookie leon is served
(psst. if i didnt mention u in this one artist moots TRUST you're definitely in one of the other three.)
tw: cavity fluff i hope i needed to brush my teeth after writing this (probably because of all the panda express fortune cookies i ate while typing), angst bc duh and i think thats it?
wc: 7k
âYour voice will bring a smile today.â
Thatâs what greets you, printed in those horrible skinny red letters, paper curled in your fingers. The styrofoam boxes are dotted with grains of undercooked rice and steamed vegetables, a treat you knew you deserved after such a long day.Â
And this is what fate tells you. Good thing youâve never believed in superstition. You crumple the paper and toss it onto the tray and scoff.
Like youâll take advice from a cookie.
But as the number of people in the store starts to dwindle, and the night shift employees trudge in through the back door, you wind up with your eyes glued to the message, wondering what kind of voice it referred to.Â
Itâs been a long time since your voice has brought anyone joy, hasnât it? Your job mostly consists of reminding multiple colleagues of their deadlines, only to be promptly ignored. Your existence only comes back to their minds two minutes before their reports are due, when they forward a hastily written piece that you donât bother to read.
âMaâam, are you alright?â A hand waves dangerously close to your face, brushing your nose, and the contact is enough to startle you back, glaring up at the offender. Even with the harsh swinging lights stinging your eyes, you can see warm blue eyes and sunny hair.Â
It feels as if the sky has descended to meet you.
Your breath catches in your throat.
âYeah, Iâm fine,â you mutter back in response, clearing your throat, waving your tied words away. âAll good here.â
He shifts away from you, maybe mistaking your inward gesture as shooing him away. You think of saying something about him, about assuring him, but you wonder why you feel that way. "Oh. I, uh, saw you seemed distracted. Just wanted to make sure you're okay."Â
You wince, acutely aware of your frazzled appearance after the long shift. "Thank you, but I'm fine. Just tired is all."
âThatâs not good,â he notes with a small frown, leaning back to press his heels to the ground. âDid you eat well?â
âDo you fuss over all strangers?â you muse.
âOh, well, uhm, I see you a lot here, not that Iâm watching you, just that I noticed that youâre here, a lot, so I thought you must like food-âÂ
âYou talk a lot.â You raise an eyebrow, trying to cut off his flustered stammering with your motion.
âThat came out a lot worse than Iâd imagined in my head,â he admits with a slight dip of his shoulders. âSorry about that, I got nervous. I don't talk to many people⌠or, uh, women... so I tend to be a bit of a dumbass.â
Surprisingly, as shitty as you feel, a small smile graces the corner of your mouth.
âYouâre honest, arenât you?âÂ
âAccording to a lot of people⌠yeah.â
âI donât think I caught your name earlier,â you say, eyes scanning his vivid outfit for a nametag. There, pinned to his apron like a defining feature of his. âLeon?â
âThatâs me,â he replies proudly. âAnd I already know yours!â
âSorry?â
âYour⌠name?â Leon puckers his bottom lip, as if scarring it with his teeth will take back the words hanging between you. âSorry⌠like I said, Iâve seen you here a lot.â
And he smiles shyly.
Youâre flushed the whole way home, thinking of that sweet little smile, the way his eyes crinkled, his fresh linen scent, how you forgot how to breathe.Â
And your carefully built world topples over.
<><><><>
You never expected to look forward to the little messages in your fortune cookies, but you blame it on the fact you know Leonâs handing them to you, standing behind the counter in that cute little outfit. Even if he has no idea whatâs in them, you can gaslight yourself into thinking he deliberately picks the ones complimenting your smile, or telling you how pretty your eyes look.
Of course, he can tell you that all himself. You sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the stools that you think are meant to be mocking bar stools, but they have barely any space between them, so youâre crammed together.
You wait for him to move away, to tell you to put some distance between you two, but nothing comes. You watch his profile, that handsome face eat cheap noodles when he really deserves so much better.
The lights dim as the last employee clocks out. Itâs gotten so late that the crickets demand entrance, chirping their redundant sound, silencing as you walk past the slouching grass like plant that tickles your bare ankles as you walk back to your respective cars.
âWell,â he says, twisting the fabric of his shirt between his fingers, like he hasnât been talking to you for the last two weeks. âIâll see you tomorrow?â
âYeah,â you affirm, nodding. The grin that eats up his face is so infectious you canât help but smile back.
The same smile drops from your face when you check your Uber texts, a system youâve repeated so much over the last few months that it feels like second nature, but not very natural when you see that your driver had to back out of the deal at the last minute, suspiciously also taking your money with them, leaving you broke and without a ride.Â
You stare at the small blue rectangle gripped in your fingers, heat rising to your face, realizing how stupid you must seem to the guy who must be pulling away right at this moment, and will he ever want to hang out with you again-
âSomething wrong?â You hear his voice before you hear the knocks on his car roof, and heâs so tall that even at this distance you have to crane your neck to glower at him, and a lopsided smile overtakes his face.
âThis isnât fair,â you insist after explaining your situation, and the only response he gives is a slight shake of his head, as if exasperated. âI already paid all the money!â
âCrap, then somethingâs wrong,â he mumbles. âDo you usually always use all your money on the trip here?â
You falter. âNot usually.â
He arches a golden brow, a gate to your forthcoming confession. âThenâŚ?â
âWell, I come out here to see you,â you admit quietly. âAnd then I go home.â
âExactly how far away do you live?â His voice is smooth, but his expression reminds you of those times when your mother caught you doing something you shouldnât be, doing something that shows how much you need that validation to survive.
âNot that far,â you assure, nodding your head, but you fail to convince the both of you.Â
âDo you want a ride home?â he asks quietly, softly, as if the night might intrude on your conversation.
âThat would be nice,â you reply in a hushed whisper, as if further backing up the idea that the moon is listening, lighting up your words, shining on his hair as you both clamber into his car.
He apologizes for the mess in his spotless car, and you assume itâs just a courtesy, but he goes on and on about how he needs to get his life together. You donât pay attention to the words that come out of his mouth, just his mouth in general. The amount of times youâve done this slips from your mind, just another irrelevant number in your life.
If his life is a mess, your life must be a heap of shit.
Your address tumbles past strangely parched lips, well, at least it did, a while ago. But the ride was far too short, and he pulls up in your driveway, a bewildered expression on his face, as if he canât believe this is where you live; a humble, simple abode, just like all your neighbors.
âSo, this is goodbye, then?â
âNot forever, I hope,â he whispers, voice breathy.
âUh, okay then? But letâs meet somewhere that isnât your place of work?â
You were joking when you said it, but it seems he doesnât pick up on it. His eyes are dreamy and thoughtful on his drive back, and by the time he gets home, he has a plan.
Heâs going to stun you.
<><><><>
âWell?â
Leonâs gone out of his way to please you. Everything youâve said during your time together, those vague comments about your favorite type of cheese, your opinions on the amazingly random topics youâre always switching between, itâs all right there.
You hope it's a physical display of his love.
His heart is spread bare, on the checkered, classic pattern of red and white, starkly contrasting with the blades of grass that bear your combined weight, not one, but two, so closely conjoined that you feel more at ease than you have in years.
You share a smile as you indulge in the simple yet delightful cucumber sandwiches, savoring each bite as you bask in each other's company. In the far distance, birds chirp, serenading you both, as if a soundtrack to these moments that seem to tick by faster than they should.
Leon's eyes meet yours, a softness in his gaze that speaks volumes. Time slows, encapsulating you both, a delicious freedom licking up your spine.
âDidnât know you could cook,â you remark, wiping your face with a napkin, feeling content as you lean back, lying your head on your palms.
He mirrors your action, although his head twists to meet you, eyes sparkling. âI wouldnât be working at a restaurant if I didnât know a few things, right?â
âGuess so.â You shrug and the afternoon wears on, the park imaginative and alive with the children that race around the playground, darting like minnows through the swings and slides.
If you had met Leon in your childhood, would things have been different? Would you still be where you are today, arms brushing, only held apart by the barrier of remains scattered between you both, a battlefield of scarred napkins and damaged plastic utensils, a war fought to keep you separate.
He is caring and decisive and rational, the most reliable person you know, and you faintly register itâs been half a year, and you havenât progressed any further with each other. The battle has come to a standstill, and neither side dares to make a move.
You think that half the problem lies not with you, but with Leon, and what he does with all his free time. Heâs not the type to laze around; you think you know him well enough to make that assumption, but you arenât sure anymore.
Cue example one: the mysterious phone calls that have begun to grow in frequency, the ones that always sour Leonâs mood, leave him sullen and unfriendly to talk to. Eventually, you grow tired of his monosyllabic answers, and make your absence known, still wondering what goes on in his life.
With a furrowed brow, he glances at the caller ID, his expression tightening with concern. You watch as his once-relaxed posture stiffens with some unseen burden. With a sigh, he excuses himself to take the call, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts.
You can sense the tension tinging the area, Leonâs clenched jaw betraying the stress he tries to conceal as he stalks back to you, shoving his phone into his pocket, evidently agitated.
âYou donât need a ride home, do you?â His voice contrasts his request; he obviously isnât in the mood to drive you home.Â
âIâll get a cab.â You shake your head, not wanting to be the instrument he releases all that pent up anger on.
He casts a shadow over you, standing tall and easy, in the dying sun he looks like a dying angel, his eyes soft and sad, skin begging to be touched. And while you want nothing more than to reach out and caress his cheek, tell him itâll be okay, kiss his troubles away, you donât know what you are right now.
Friends? Would a friend do that? So you offer him a supportive smile, trying not to seem deliberate, and amidst the fading light of the park and the cooling breeze that accompanies you back to your divided lives, you already regret it, watching Leon speed off, just a distant thought in your memory.Â
You should trust your gut more often.
<><><><>
As the car glides through the shadowy city streets, you catch sight of the new monument in the distance, the one Leon mustâve told you about. Surprising yourself, you decide to take a spontaneous detour. You tap your driver on the shoulder, and she smiles encouragingly. For the most part, the drive was silent, but you donât mind her soft voice explaining the history behind why they decided to construct it in the first place.
She pulls around the corner, approaching the area near the monument, but the statue quickly is pushed to the back of your mind. Itâs the flashing police lights and a sense of urgency in the air that catches your attention. A crime scene tape cordons off the area, and officers are stopping all vehicles passing through.
A stern-faced cop approaches your cab and instructs you both to step out. The driver uneasily abandons her car where itâs parked, then weaves through the forming crowd effortlessly, as if sheâs gotten used to the downtown mobs of people.
You, however, barely come to this side of the town, where the city lights are always attacking your eyes that are comfortable with the soft sunset across the farm, where the people are always knocking against each other like clumsy goats, everyone bustling with a purpose.
As you also try your best to push your way through the throng, a knot forms in your stomach at the sight that greets you in the center of the commotion. The blood reaches up to where your footsteps falter, where everyone steps back to avoid staining their footwear.
Splatters of crimson paint a macabre picture that sends a shiver down your spine. The wail of sirens pierces the night, flaring lights casting an eerie glow that dances like amethyst flames, illuminating the limp body that uniformed figures crouch near.
And one of those figures, someone youâd never expect at the grim scene of a murder, is Leon, his unfamiliar stony expression cast in a stark light against the backdrop of chaos.
You draw closer, questions threatening to unravel the fabric of your reality, steeling yourself for the confrontation, because you thought you were close to him, a person he could trust. Was that such a silly thought? To think that you might have had something?
Apparently it was.
âLeon?â you demand, pressing yourself into the caution tape, warning bells ringing in your mind at the neon yellow bending to your will against your stomach.
âWhat?â He glances up and around, scanning the entire world until his eyes land on yours, going wide slightly, and his position stumbles, as if his legs give way.
âGet up, rookie,â another cop barks. âFocus! And you, stop distracting him!â Someone bats at your face, but you just sidestep the blow and storm closer, in the tension of the moment.
If you had just a speck of your sense at the time, you mightâve forced yourself to step away, to take a few calming deep breaths, but seeing his face dappled in such an unnatural light, to see his warmth be taken away to something thatâs real, something like a life gone.Â
You always saw him as your solace, away from your life, something that was unreal, just for you. You forget to see him as a being of his own, with feelings of his own. And sadly, you donât know the difference between impulsive and intrusive.Â
Youâre surprised when Leon rises to meet your eyes, albeit it only lasts for a moment until heâs towering over you again, and thereâs a sense of authority there that wasnât there before, eyes strict and narrowed.
âIâll talk to you later,â he says, in such a final tone it doesnât occur to you that you could argue back. But his voice, a splinter of your Leon, the one you know, slips through. âI promise.â
So you stand back, near the patrol cars, their wails ratting your skull, but you grit your teeth and force yourself through it, eyes directed on Leon. Itâs a while before the crowd clears, presumably because the idea of a murder is enticing until they see how long it truly takes, as compared to television.
But you stand there, leaning against the side of the car that you know is Leonâs, recognizing it as the one that youâve rode in so many times, and you wonder why heâs taken a fragment of your time here, to this place outside of your relationship.
Eventually, Leon makes frantic motions to the top of the monument, stretching to the sky before gesturing back to the body, and everyone around him offers a pensive expression and solemn nods before someone calls out something you canât hear.
The sirens die down immediately, and everyone claps Leon on the back. He flushes and stumbles with them to the cars, and you promptly ignore everyoneâs gaze on you as he approaches. But thereâs someone with him.Â
Feline eyes meet yours, an arm draped over his shoulder, competitive expression and this mysterious woman and Leon saunter over to you. Sheâs dressed in a long, beige trench coat, and her black sunglasses rest low on her nose, perched just right so that she can lift her face to offer you the most cursory of glances before turning away.
And she has the audacity to peck Leon on the cheek before she gives you a smug smile with the side of her face that only you can see before waving goodbye, somehow gracefully, and stalking away to what you assume is a fancy sports car.
âLook, I know you have a lot of questions.â Leon holds up his hands in defense, before grinning, and involuntarily, you feel the corner of your mouth quirk upwards.
âLot of is an understatement,â you grumble.
âTalk over dinner?â he offers.
âIs this you trying to impress me?â
âI mean, I donât know,â he says with a soft chuckle. âIs it working?â
<><><><>
âRight, and you didnât think telling me you were a fucking cop was important?â Your spring roll is devastated, its insides spilling everywhere on your plate, bits of cabbage and carrot dotting the cardboard.
âI didnât think it would change anything between us,â he mumbles. âSo what difference would it make?â
âWhat the hell is that supposed to mean?â You push away from the table, and his eyes follow you when you stand up, and his actions seem to come naturally, as an instinct, when he trails you across the empty store.
âYou know what it means!â he protests.
âMaybe I donât, Leon, so maybe you should explain,â you retort. âExplain why you thought it was okay to lead me on like that, all this time, when you have a girlfriend! Which one of us are you really cheating on?â
âWhat?â Now he looks genuinely confused, and his confusion seems to spark some doubt in your own defense, breaking down your sure walls. âGirlfriend? Cheating?â
His eyes are glazed over with tears, and if he starts crying, youâre not sure what youâll do. You take a step closer, but now heâs the one to recoil away, shaking his head, wiping his eyes.
Leon inhales sharply. âHow could you say something like that? I told you when we met, Iâm not⌠not very good with these kinds of things.â
âBut she-â
âKissed me?â He scoffs. âYeah, right. Like your motherâs never kissed you goodnight.â
You misread everything. That smug smile was her approval, on those curved lips, those narrowed eyes that were⌠well, just always narrowed. How could you get something so wrong?
"I... I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. "I didn't know... I thought..." Your words falter as you struggle to find the right ones to express the whirlwind of relief, a gust of skittish butterflies pattering against the walls of your stomach, trying to find release.
"I should have been honest from the start," he murmurs, his gaze never leaving yours. "My job⌠it can hurt people. You saw. I want to keep you safe."
âYouâre not mad?â you ask quietly.
Leon's eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as he responds, "How could I ever be mad at this cute little face?" He playfully puffs your cheeks together, a gesture meant to be endearing.
Before you can fully process his teasing remark, Leon's demeanor shifts once again, his voice lower and more intimate as he adds, "Or... these lips." And with a sudden, decisive move, he leans in and presses a tender kiss against your lips.
And your fragile world topples over.
Again.
<><><><>
Leon never ceases to surprise you, that much you can definitely expect. You shut your computer, ready for your lunch break, when someone calls your name from the lower floor. That much youâve come to expect, but while youâre gathering your belongings, someone else calls out something else.
âHey, hurry up! Donât keep your boyfriend waiting!â
To say you stumbled would be nice. You somehow manage to trip over the arm of the chair, end up with all your papers fluttering to the ground, but you ignore the mess and file it away for later, trying to tame your hair (an impossible feat in three seconds) as you storm down the stairs.
Your heels click on the tiles as you make your descent as graceful as can be, minus that one part where you trip and lurch forward before gripping the hand railing for safety. You see him standing at the entrance, talking to the receptionist guy, a box nestled between his arms.Â
âDoughnuts?â you ask, staring at the box enticingly, recognizing the bright pink and rainbow sprinkles from your childhood.Â
âGot some free time,â he says, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before opening the box. It seems that you really have everyoneâs attention now. âAnd coupons!â
You toss him a shit eating grin to show your returned affection before immediately curling your fingers around a glazed doughnut. And eventually, once the first person timidly approaches, quietly asking if they could maybe have one, Leon beams.
âI brought enough for everyone!â he proclaims, and he steps to the side to reveal three similar boxes, all presumably stocked with the same doughnuts.
âLooks like youâre an office favorite now, huh?â you tease, nudging him with your elbow. He shifts from your impact and returns the gesture, in the process of doing so smears chocolate frosting on the underside of his nose.
âIâll always be your favorite officer though, right?â he jokes in response.
You donât respond, youâre too busy staring at that one smear of cocoa against his skin, and suddenly youâre itching for a napkin, so you twist over your shoulder to grab one.
âRigh-â His echo is muffled by the napkin stuffed into his mouth as you gently dab at the area, squinting your eyes.Â
âYeah, of course, totally,â you mumble absentmindedly, satisfied with your efforts. You take the excuse a little further just to stare at his amused expression, the quirk of his brow, the tilt of his eyes softening.
Your colleagues will never let you hear the end of this.
Either way, since heâs on break and heâs on the managerâs good side, bribing her with a few Boston Cream doughnuts, she allows him to hop upstairs with you.
âSo, if youâre a cop,â you ask while rubbing hand sanitizer into your palms. âWhyâre you working at Panda Express?â
âThey lowered the income rate for the citizens of Raccoon City, including the police force,â he grumbles, swinging his legs from where heâs perched on the side of your desk. âWhich I think is totally stupid!â
âSo you think you shouldnât have applied at all?â you query further.
âWell, honestly? Iâm glad I applied,â he admits, and at your questioning expression, continues, âI wouldnât have met you.â
âHooray, taxes,â you say numbly, flipping through the giant stack of papers left on your desk, all jumbled up from your earlier mishap.
âHooray, taxes, indeed,â he agrees.
âI was being sarcastic.â Leon scoffs, twisting over his shoulder to lean down and meet your lips. When he pulls away, thereâs an endearing yet mocking look in his eyes.
âIâm not that stupid.â
<><><><>
Nothing happens that day, you donât see a black cat anywhere, you donât walk under any ladders, and if you do walk on cracks, well, you do that every day, so your luck must always be this horrible, right?
Youâve somehow scored this moonlit masterpiece strolling beside you, a being born from the clouds, so maybe youâre not all that unlucky.
Usually, you get a warning when bad things happen. But all you can feel is the jittery, warm feeling that you get when youâre brushing hands with Leon, trying to bring him closer to you. You think he notices, and doesnât say anything.
You invite yourself into his car, but the first of many problems to come arrives in the form of water that splashes on Leonâs face, just above his eyebrow, and he quickly slides into his seat.
You absently brush the area, admiring his hair, his boyish qualities, and suddenly wonder if heâs always looked this young. Far too innocent for the world.
âItâs nice in here,â you offer.
He sinks back into the seat with a gentle, relaxed smile. "Well, either way, get comfortable. Looks like weâre expecting rain.â
You nod, legs unsteady, and find yourself nestled in leather beside his cologne-scented form. The engine hums to life, and he shifts gears, pulling onto the road as traffic flees.
He glances over, moonlight caressing sculpted cheeks. "Whatâs wrong?"
âDo you have any water?â He gestures to the water bottle in the cupholder on his left side, on the driverâs door. Your knees knock against each other as you reach over to grasp it, ducking under his outstretched arms, averting your eyes to your right rather than the other direction.
âCan IâŚ?â You gesture to the bottle. âOr should I just like, you know, waterfall, or whatever-â
âWeâve literally exchanged saliva,â he states bluntly. âI donât think I have a problem with you drinking from my water bottle.â
âUgh, you weirdo.â But youâre the one drinking like a starved woman, which you suppose that you are, but that of which youâre really dragging your gaze over isnât the water.
And you suppose, logically, Leonâs 70% water.
Water that evaporates under the heat of your eyes, drifting up to the previously cloudless sky, forming puffs of sorrow that cry back down to you, tears slamming against the windshield. You ponder how he can even see the road through the downpour.
Eventually, after grumbling under his breath, Leon pulls over, gazing into your upturned face with a question in his eyes, older than his years.
âWould you, uhm, mind if we just went to my place? Itâs closer anyways, and I donât want to risk driving any further than I have to in these conditionsâŚâ
You smile, and he can see your answer woven in your eyes.
<><><><>
Leon forgot to mention his (adoptive) parents live right next door. So of course, when theyâre just out and about casually watching him through the door camera, they might just happen to say a dashing young lady walk out of his car.
And said young lady is unfamiliar to these judging, supreme figures that must decide Leonâs fate for him, because heâs just a boy. Their precious little baby.
So thatâs what you assumed happened when Leonâs parents clambered out of their door, calling for you to wait, his mother pulling her cardigan around herself tighter against the chill.
And now here you are, facing two people that, no offense, look nothing like the man seated next to you, fingers entwined, foot tapping out a nervous beat on the wooden floor.
âSo, darling, howâs work going?â Another placeholder question for what she really wants to know: how much do you make in a year? Do you have a degree? Did you even finish high school?
You respond with everything they must want to hear, like those questions on the backs of those 2000âs magazines with the answer thatâs always right, the one that has the perfect amount of sense in it, the Goldilocks rule.
Goldilocks must have been gobbled up by the bears this night, because every answer seems to deepen the furrow forming between their brows, as if theyâre in sync, and you wonder how you can manage to screw up something that should be simple.
Meeting the parents, check. Whatâs next, falling into the cake at the wedding? You must be planning too far ahead judging by their unimpressed looks.
âMom,â Leon groans. âCut it out!â
âIâm just getting to know her, sweetie,â she replies sweetly, voice dripping like molasses, and you can tell thereâs a lot more sheâs keeping behind her tongue. "Well, dear, do you have any hobbies or interests you're passionate about?"
"Oh, I just love cooking!" you exclaim, a spark of enthusiasm lighting up your face. Maybe youâve finally found something to impress them with.
Leon's father leans in, his interest piqued. "What kind of dishes do you enjoy cooking?" he asks, a hint of genuine curiosity in his voice.
"I love trying out new recipes from different cuisines," you reply, your excitement palpable. "Right now Iâm learning how to cook Thai cuisine!"
Leon's mother nods, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Cooking is such a beautiful art form," she muses, her face softening. "It's wonderful to see someone so passionate about creating delicious meals. Someone who can share that love with our son."
You wonder if any other girl had waltzed along, marveled at cooking with them, would they have dropped their judging character immediately, just as they had with you?
You suppose itâs a mystery you donât need to solve.
Besides, you donât have to worry about facades with Leon.
Of course not.
But you do wonder why he hasnât touched any of the food.
<><><><>
You sit back, sly fingers curved around the tender flesh of his waist, pressing your head further into the crook of his arm. You watch his chest rise and fall like the arrival and departure of the sun, bringing you warmth under the blanket that restricts your movements, tucked in around you like a burrito.
He must be hot, you realize, heâs sweltering under the blanket, but when you offer to turn on the overhead fan, he shivers like heâs cold at the same time and shakes his head.
In moments of silence, you catch glimpses of a far off-look in his eyes, a horror movie long forgotten, as if his thoughts have wandered to a place you canât reach. Thereâs shadows of things he doesnât say, things you know he wants to say.
âHey, are you good?â You shift your weight to look up at him, where you mightâve found yourself admiring the curve of his chin, or his dappled skin, but now you only feel concern.
âYeah,â he mumbles, mouth stretching in a yawn. âMy new case is taking a bit longer than Iâd hoped.â
âMhm?â you press gently, wanting to get more clarity on the situation without seeming nosy. His response is delayed, a different, pitiful expression grappling to take hold.
âOh⌠the, uhm, pharmaceutical company? Something that has to do with⌠was it rain?â Leon shakes his head, clicking his tongue in the back of his throat. âYou know what? Forget it. Tonightâs our night.â
He says âourâ, but he pays you little to no attention for the next three hours.Â
Your first thought is that you're boring him. Have you already become so insufferable that he doesnât want to hang out with you anymore? You had expected it, of course, youâre not a very animated person, but he loved you, didn't he?
Leonâs gone quiet, silent, like heâs back in that box in his mind you can never seem to pierce. The light that used to dance in his eyes now flickers dimly, like a fading ember struggling to hold onto its warmth.
He carries himself with the same grace and poise, like a practiced act to a play you werenât a part of, and you canât push it away anymore. But of course, as all things in your life seem to follow, when you finally find yourself gaining the courage to confront him, he's gone.
<><><><>
Missing. And no one knows where he is. And some part of you blames yourself, you obviously must've scared him away.
âYou know whatâs wrong!â You bite your tongue to keep you from raising your volume, not so much fearing the fish beneath you but the woman leaning against the shipping containers, scrutinizing slender nails with feigned boredom.
If Leon trusts her, she should hear your first plea. She knows him better than you do, much to your dismay, but it could work out in your favor currently.
Her expression remains stony.
"Please," you beg, and a sliver of emotion slips through that mask- confusion? "Help me save Leon. I know you care for him, even if you can't show it."
Her crimson lips quirk. "I have⌠undisclosed reasons for ensuring his well-being. But my work takes precedence, and I canât disclose anything to you."Â
You glare through lingering tears. "No deals, no games. You tell me where he's investigating right now."Â
A long pause, then she sighs. "Very well. It seems you really won't leave me alone, hm?" She grins coldly. "Shall we play the heroes, just this once?"
Playing the heroes is harder than it turns out to be, it seems.Â
"Evening, boys. My associate and I have a⌠delivery." The guards blink, stupefied, then waves you through with dopey grins, mostly directed at her. Ada smirks. "Pathetic."
A floorplan materializes in her hand, every room and hallway illuminated with ghastly blue precision. "Samples are held in labs B5 through 7. Avoid guards, cameras. And try not to set anything off - we're on a tight schedule."
You dart through shadows, cautiously approaching the correct hall. Surprisingly, nothing contradicts your journey, as if the whole buildingâs been abandoned. Guess itâs your lucky day.Â
You're wondering just how lucky you really are when you turn to usher Ada ahead, only to freeze as you turn the corner, and there, just a few feet away, he sits.
So calmly, so pristine, as if life was just as simple as sitting on the floor, in the middle of a hallway, in a building where you don't belong, after ghosting everyone who knows you for two days.
And yet there's something different. Haggard eyes stare from a chalk-white face, lips twisted in a feral snarl. That face, once so stunning you had to think about his existence, now only conveys hatred.
"L-Leon?" you breathe. But those eyes betray no recognition, only hunger. As your stare, transfixed by fright and grief, a click sounds behind you.
"Well, well. Fancy meeting you here." Ada glares down the barrel she points to Leon's head, somehow still perfectly composed. You want to rip off her head. "Now, are we all going to play nice?"
For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then Leon's eyes flicker, awareness filtering into his eyes by slow degrees, and he stands up at half that speed, as if time is against him.
But then he jolts back, as if something's clicked, and suddenly he's back with you, standing in front of you, gasping for breath and clutching you tightly.
You wait for a moment, not quite sure if you're imagining things or not, before a dry, unamused chuckle rips from your throat and slowly morphs into the laugh you're used to sharing with him.
Leon leans closer to you, resting your forehead against his, cupping your face as he stares down at you, recognition so evident in those open eyes. âHow'd you find me?â
âWell, it's not like the department was going to notice,â you mumble, rolling your eyes. Ada scoffs in reply, but her head tilts to the side.
âAnd your endearing girlfriend here wouldn't let me get away that easily.â
You suppose her tone is light enough that you can let it pass as a joke, and at the moment you're so overwhelmed with relief that you aren't too worried about her idea of you either way.
âSeeing you⌠gosh,â he groans, pressing a palm to his temple, hissing. âI can barely think straight!â
âI know, baby, I know,â you coo comfortingly, keeping your voice soft so as to not alert any guards that might've pulled up around the area.
âNo, I can'tâŚâ His eyes go fazed again, blank, emotionless, and once again he's slipped through your grasp like grains of sand on a beach, only there is nothing tranquil about this situation.
âLeon, listen to me. Youâre going to be just fine,â you affirm, nodding your head, hoping he'll copy your motion.
He doesn't. "I...I can feel it," he gasps. Beads of sweat run tracks through the grim on his face. "It's⌠stronger than me..."
You grip his hand tight, ignoring the growing feverheat. "No, Leon, you can beat this. You always do." But even you can hear the desperation in your voice.
And you wait for Ada to chime in with some classic, yet somehow sassy third-wheel dialogue, but it never comes. In fact, she's vanished into the shadows, presumably already so far away you can't hear the click of her heels on the sterile floors.
Leon groans, and your attention snaps back to him, face contorting. "Go," he grits out. "Drive⌠and don't look back."
âIâm not leaving you here!â you proclaim, and his eyes soften in confusion as you sling his arms around your shoulder.
You're sure half the population must've heard your racket at this point, but it seems something else has gotten the security's attention.
As long as it's not you, you don't mind. Leonâs lower lip wavers, unshed tears sparkling in his eyes, and you want to peck everything that hurts until he's okay. But you can't be sure of anything until you're both safe.
The first responders always seem to pick up the prank calls from the teenagers that don't need their help, but it seems like hours go by the more Leon's blood coats your fingers, and inevitably, your phone screen.
He's stopped responding to your questions, and you fight to keep just a fragment of his conscience there with you, but his eyes, the vivid blue gone dull, meet yours and offer no further response.
When the ambulance finally arrives, they leave you outside the gates, denying you entry, with those ruby dusted hands and diamond streaked face.
You suppose you've always wanted to be the jewel in the night that races to the hospital to see their lover. And now that just seems silly.
<><><><>
Three weeks.
That's all the time he'll have with you. And even then, he's not truly there. He struggles to formulate his own thoughts, and now, whenever you see him, all you can think of is who he used to be.
As for Ada, you haven't seen her since. She hasn't snitched on you, so you suppose that it wouldn't hurt anyone to keep the events of that day between the three of you.
Two of you, now.
He isn't a person anymore. He isn't your Leon. But that's hard to remember when you've never been good at seeing what's beneath the surface, the dense, complex layers that create a person.
You see his soft, peaceful face that is like second nature to you, and you wonder if he'll respond to you today, even after hours of repeating the same truth that you know somewhere, deep down, youâll never believe. The doctor's left the room already, decreeing two hours of treatment should do something for him, save him, much like removing a tumor.
âI went to our place, picked up some lunch for us,â you murmur, knowing he can't hear you. âYou werenât standing at the counter like always, and I almost lost it. Again.â
You can imagine him, if he was really here, chuckling, shaking his head at your questionable behavior. Not just a shell, a half of a person, but a whole that somehow also completed you.
See, this is why you failed math. Are you half a person without him, or whole?
âI got us a fortune cookie!â you say, trying to keep your voice upbeat, as if your positive energy could transfer to him, in a magical, mystical manner, and he'd come back to you.
âLet's read it, yeah?â No point in waiting for a response when you know it'll never come.
Thin, pale letters. How odd, they resemble Leon's strangely flushed face.
âToday, your voice will bring a smile.â You suppress one of those and instead roll your eyes. âYour friends canât think of new content, can they?â
You stuff the paper into your handbag, slung over the plastic chair near his bed. You've blocked out the rest of the world, now is time for just you two, however far away he may seem. Which is why you scowl up at the doctor, slightly confused at her sympathetic look, and then your ears ring and you shift back to reality. The reality of the situation.
The reality of the flatline.
The reality that, no matter how much you thrash in the security guard's arms, Leon's not coming back. Heâs gone.
In a way, he's been gone for longer than you've chosen to accept. Maybe it would've been easier to let him go sooner. You're marched straight out of the hospital, a beeline for the exit, and you have little time to shout your goodbyes.
But you've grown used to taking advice from cookies. After all, they've gotten you to this point. The sarcasm you had so long ago seems silly to you, now, the fact that a biscuit could decide your fate.
To Leon?
Your voice keeps him smiling all the way up to the clouds.
#it's in your blood...#leon kennedy x reader fluff#leon kennedy#resident evil#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon scott kennedy#leon kennedy fanfic#resident evil 4#resident evil 2#re2r#re2#re4#re4r#leon resident evil#resident evil leon#leon#leon kennedy fluff#leon kennedy angst#leon kennedy re4#rookie leon
187 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Fallen Angel
Sylus x gn!Reader (more fem-coded)
I literally didn't do work yesterday when I told myself I would bc of this fic. I was so in it that I had to keep working on it or else. And I'm so glad I did cuz I love writing in the Raven universe I've created
Warnings: torture, blood, injury, gun violence, mind control, swearing, (wanting to) vomit, slight invasion of privacy, pet names, sleep deprivation, alcohol + drinking, possessive behavior, kissing, some religious imagery, selectively mute reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
Word Count: 4,887
Main Masterlist
Love and Deepspace Masterlist
AO3
Tag List Form (Fill this out to be tagged in future works!)
âLook at you. Sylusâs prized pup.â
Electricity tears through your body. It steals the air from your lungs. Your bloodied fingernails dig into the wood of the chair. Your legs shake against their will. You grit your teeth so hard they hurt. You taste copper.
When it stops, your body sags forward, chest heaving desperately for air through the aftershocks of pain. You refuse to scream for them. Refuse to let them hear your voice when it is reserved for one man only.
âGive it up already, pup.â The man supervising your torture grabs your chin in deceptively soft hands, contradicting the tight hold he has on your jaw. He brushes his thumb against your lower lip. It comes away red. âHe would have found you by now if he actually cared. You know that.â
You glare at him. Silent.
âBesides, be honest with yourself, pup,â he leans in close, too close, âwhy would a man like him need a bodyguard?â He tilts your head to one side, then the other. âYouâre just a mangy stray he took in out of pity. A fighting dog. Good at ripping out throats, and nothinâ else. Ainât that right?â
He shoves your face away sharply. Your world spins from that small action alone, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut until you see spots in the darkness. Boots scrape along the floor behind you. You take in one last gasp of air before the metal touches your skin.
-
Sylus checks his messages again. Nothing.
No texts, no calls, no mysterious notes before you left.
Shouldnât we set the rules for hide-and-seek before the game starts?
It isnât necessarily unusual for you to disappear, but it is unusual for you to ignore his messages. Even if you didnât answer right away, you still read them. Now, the patronizing notice of Delivered stares back at him.
He snaps his fingers and Mephisto is there in a flash, perched on his finger and rapt with attention. The poor bird is missing you, too. His hoard of trinkets to give you is stagnant - nothing coming in and nothing going out. Heâs too nervous to even go collect more.
âSearch Linkon City. Any sign of them, you report it.â
The mechanical crow leaps off his finger and out the window in a flash.
In the next instant, the twins are standing before him, summoned by a quick message. They stand at attention, too. No banter passes between them. âSearch the N109 Zone for any sign of Raven. By any means necessary.â
âOn it, Boss.â
âSure thing, Boss!â
He stares at the messages again as their footsteps recede into the hall. He scans your last message, searching for any miniscule clue as to where youâve run off to.
One of my old âcolleaguesâ is bugging me again :/
Want me to take care of them for you?
I can do it myself
I know you can, sweetheart
It was too vague to go off of. You were very tight-lipped about your past, only making off-handed comments about it here and there: You donât sing anymore (implying you did once, which came as a minor shock to him), your apparent wealth is stolen (but no hints to where from), and youâre more familiar with the streets of Linkon than the N109 Zone. Never any mentions of past dealings you had before, or anything close to a partnership that could have involved âcolleaguesâ.
The longer he sits here, straining for any glimpse of a past you never involved him in, the more he wishes heâd asked more. It wasnât for lack of interest, but you werenât very vocal at the best of times. It felt more appropriate to leave it alone and wait for you to offer up tidbits on your own.
-
Two prominent marks marr your skin, presenting where the alligator clips had pressed into your back over and over and over again. Charred flesh, bubbling with blisters. Something sharp pops one of them. You draw blood from your cheek to avoid screaming.
The man sighs. âYouâre a stubborn one.â He pushes off of the wall and leans down to be face-to-face with you. âWhatâs it gonna take to get you to sing for us?â
Your body trembles with exertion as you raise your head. You havenât been allowed to sleep. Every time your eyes droop, you get shocked. You fight not to collapse. You canât let the torture break you. You canât.
He smirks as he sees the blood dribbling from your mouth, mixing with saliva and snot as it trails down your chin. His satisfaction sickens you. For as much as you understand the thrill, understand the rush of bringing someone to their knees before you, you never looked at them like this. This is revolting.
You spit in his face.
âAh, fuck!â He almost falls on his ass as he jerks away. His nice sleeve is ruined as he wipes his face.
Lightning sears through your nerves. It burns you up inside. Your muscles clench harshly, spasming uncontrollably. All air rushes out of you. It feels like drowning. Your eyes stare at the bright white light on the ceiling, unable to cry out, unable to look away. Unable to breathe.
For the first time since this whole thing began, tears form in your eyes.
The clips are removed from your skin. Colored and black spots obscure the blurry light. You think you might pass out. You think youâve reached the end of your resolve.
And then you can breathe again.
The breaths come in wheezy and ragged. Your body lurches forward as you cough. Your throat spasms, stomach twisting with the need to throw up. But nothing comes out. You dry heave into your lap, blood landing in wet droplets on your pants.
The man pulls your head up by your hair. You canât see him. Canât see the ugly grimace on his face. Your eyes wonât open. You cough, desperate to vomit in the false hope that it would make you feel better. Hot tears slip down your cheeks.
âYou-!â He growls in frustration as he drops your head again. Youâre vaguely aware of the sound of his shoes as he paces back and forth in front of you. âOkay. Okay! Fine! You can rest now, pup. Howâs that sound? You can take a nice, long nap. Sounds good, right?â
You donât answer him. Donât show any signs you even heard him.
âKeep an eye on them. Iâm gonna go fucking change.â
-
Sylus hasnât been idle. Fully aware of the breach to your privacy, he taps away at your laptop. The password wasnât guessed, merely bypassed. He didnât trust that heâd be able to guess it before being locked out.
He pulls up the same messenger app you use on your phone. Bypassing the password again, he watches the spinning buffer as it syncs up with your phone. It takes far too long. He busies himself with going through your search history with no luck. You know how to play this game, how to meander in and out of danger without leaving any traces. Itâs a remarkable talent that frustrates him to no end right now.
No messages from Luke, Kieran, or Mephisto.
A quiet jingle comes from your laptop speakers as the sync completes. He searches the most recent messages, ignoring his own despite the red dot next to his avatar. One chat exchange in particular catches his eye:
Hello, angel~ When u gonna come sing for me again?
Never.
So ur still alive then? Thats good to hear
Ive missed u <3
Stop sending your men after me. Our business is done.
U know damn well it isnt. U reneged our agreement AND stole from me
U owe me bigger than ever, angel
Youâve made more since I left. Youâre not hurting for funds.
Its the principle of the matter
U still flaked
- Read 9:38pm, Thursday -
Okay, donât respond
But if u want this stain off ur back, u gotta finish ur deal
Same stakes as before
Ill even shorten ur sentence to one week
Now doesnt that sound fair?
- Read 12:02am, Friday -
Second Circle
David will pick u up
No thanks.
Fine. See u in hell, angel~
By the end, Sylusâs face is set in a sour sneer. The way whoever this was spoke to you was demeaning, controlling, disgusting. They acted like they owned you. Youâre a bird that canât be caged; Sylus knows this well.
But, itâs the best lead heâs got. Nothing else is as recent as this, except for your text to him complaining about your old âcolleagueâ.
He messages Mephisto, telling him to scope out the Second Circle, a nightclub on the outskirts of Linkon. He starts digging into the place, its owner, and what he can do to have a meeting with them.
-
You fight sleep for as long as you can. You try everything to avoid letting the exhaustion sink in. You rub your wrists raw with the rope holding you down, hoping the pain will distract you, but the person overlooking you stops you immediately. You try to put together and take apart a gun in your mind, imagining the heft of it in your hand, the recoil that shoots up your arm, the satisfaction shooting these fuckers in the face would bring. You even try running through your last escape from this place, mentally following the corridors and steps it took to secure your freedom.
None of it works. Against your will, your body gives in. You slip into dreamless sleep.
You donât know how long it is when youâre awoken.
The chair tips, snapping your consciousness back to the present as gravity shifts. It falls backwards, the ceiling light bearing down on you like the desert sun. Your head hits the cold floor. Hard. Before your mind can catch up, a cry is torn from your throat.
The cry is cut short.
A haze of disconnection washes over your body. You canât feel your pain, canât feel your body. Itâs like your mind is trapped in a prison. Youâre forced to watch through wide eyes as the man leans over you.
âFinallyâŚâ His voice floats in like a distant echo. âTake them to the boss. Heâs got his angel back.â
No. No, no, no, no, no.
You try to fight against them as they untie your hands and ankles, as they lift you up, as your legs start walking without your input. You try to scream. To lash out. To do anything.
And you canât.
The man must notice your struggle. Must feel it through his Evol. âRelax, pup. The worst of it is over. Now you just gotta complete your end of the bargain.â
Your body walks down a long, familiar hallway. The doors at the end are wide open. A poker table sits in the middle of the room, surrounded by faces you wish you didnât recognize. Some of them bear the scars of your last escape.
In a gilded throne, sitting across from the dealer with a tall stack of poker chips, is the man youâve been running from.
The Devil.
-
The neon lights of the night club shine like a warning sign through the tinted windows of the car. The electronic red curves and twists of a script font. The outline of a devil girl lounging on top of the name, cleavage out and winking. Her tail ends in a sharp point, underlining the name.
The Second Circle.
The air in the vehicle is suffocating. Rage boils under the surface of Sylusâs skin, barely contained. His Evol burns his hands, aching to be released.
Luke opens his door as Kieran stands guard next to it.
Youâre in there.
Itâs been almost a week since you disappeared. Two days since Mephisto spotted you through the door of the club. One day since he requested an audience with its owner.
Sylus gets out of the car. Luke closes the door behind him. The twins flank his sides as he walks to the entrance. A long line of patrons waits to be let in by the bouncer, a man as tall as he was and twice as wide. He barely glances at Sylus before letting him in. The customers closest to the door fall eerily silent as he passes, oppressed by the energy surrounding him.
Purple, blue and red lights break up the darkness. Poles occupied by dancers are interspersed through the room, with girls dressed up in skimpy red devil costumes or sinfully revealing nun attire. One of the poles stands on a prominent stage, gauzy red curtains drawn to a close behind it. All three of them scan the room for signs of you with no luck.
Drunken dancers and tipsy customers pass by in a blur as he crosses the dance floor to a door hidden in the shadows. Two men in suits guard it, shoulder to shoulder.
âI have a meeting with the Devil,â he announces over the music. Despite the heat raging within him, his words are cold.
One of the men nods his head. âMr. Sylus,â he greets, too warmly given the circumstances. âThe Devil has asked that you please wait until after the main show. It will be starting soon.â He gestures over to the stage.
Sylus stares through them, searching for any reason why he really should wait and not release his Evol right now and tear his way through the building.
The lights shift from bright neons to sultry reds and oranges as the music fades out. The anticipation in the room is palpable as all eyes turn to the stage. A silhouette with feathery wings stands behind the curtain.
None of this was interesting to Sylus. What stopped him in his tracks was a voice. Your voice.
His eyes shoot to the stage, face hardening as he watches the curtains part.
You, dressed up in a white angel costume, altered from something pure and holy to be lustful. Wings stick from your back, short but no less enticing. He canât hear the slow jazz music over the siren sound of your voice. Canât feel the burning of his Evol as his eyes follow your movements to the pole.
âYou must like this song,â he points out with a grin. âYou keep humming along to it.â
You smirk as you meet his eye, not pausing as you copy the melody note for note. Itâs much better than his singing.
âDo you know the words?â
You nod. You push yourself up from the sofa where you lounged to lay yourself across his lap. Your arms wrap around his neck, lips brushing against his ear as your humming fades away. âI donât sing anymore.â
His hand trails along your spine before resting on your waist and pulling you closer. âShall I sing them, then?â
You pinch his shoulder. He chuckles.
All at once, the music turns sour within him.
âBoss, is thatâŚ?â Luke pipes up.
Kieran shakes his head. âNo, it canât be. Right?â
His hand clenches into a fist by his side. Itâs minutes of torture. His eyes canât seem to look away as you move fluidly around the pole, smiling too softly at the patrons who stand at the edge of the stage. At one point, you kneel down, knees spread apart, right in front of one of them. She gulps as you grab her by the chin, gently guiding her while you sing until her face is so close. If sheâd been a little bolder, she could have met your lips. But your fingers trail along her jaw until you let go, slowly standing up while maintaining eye contact with her.
As soon as the final notes leave your lips, Sylus is at the door. He doesnât stay to watch the curtains close. Luke and Kieran rush after him as he speeds off down a hallway.
Once the door closes, the cheering is silenced, unable to reach through the thick material. What takes its place is the laughter down the hall.
Each step feels too long. It seems to stretch on forever. Door after door, all leading up to the open double doors at the end of the hall. He only stops once heâs crossed the threshold, standing just inside the doorway as the players turn to acknowledge his presence.
The man in the throne doesnât bother to pull his face out of your neck.
The sneer on Sylusâs face deepens. This isnât you. You would never perch on another manâs lap like this. You would never giggle as his mouth drags over your skin, whispering sinful things in your ear. You would never turn to look at him like that, like heâs a stranger youâre passing in the street.
âWe have business.â
The Devil sighs boredly, finally drawing away from the angel in his lap to look at Sylus. He smirks easily. Heâs completely relaxed. The players set their cards down slowly.
âWell, well, well. Mr. Sylus. How nice to finally make your acquaintance.â
âWhat did you do to them?â
âWho, me?â He chuckles. He reaches for a glass on the edge of the table and brings it calmly to his lips, drinking the expensive scotch long and slow. âI didnât do anything.â
Sylus sighs sharply, bored of this game. âFine. What did your men do to them?â
The Devil cocks his head to the side, smirking wider. It looks too big for his face. âNothinâ they couldnât handle.â
Luke and Kieran keep a close eye on the poker players as their hands reach beneath the table. Their own hands come to rest at the weapons on their hips.
âDidja wanna make a deal, or are you just gonna stand there all night?â
There is no deal that could be made that would be fair. The Devil already had what he wanted - you. Under his control, on his lap, answering to his every whim. If he canât deal with the DevilâŚ
âWhose Evol is it, sweetie?â
You tilt your head. Itâs familiar, and itâs horrifically not you. âWhat do you mean, mister?â
His right eye glows as he levels his stare on you. Heâs never used this on you before. It feels like a betrayal of your autonomy. Somehow, he knows you forgive him.
A face flickers across his vision. Blood stains a nasty grimace. You desire the owner of that face to die. You donât care how. Your rage almost makes him dizzy.
He pulls a gun from his waistband. The owner of the face stands first, aiming for the Onychinus leader. Sylus shoots first.
Blood splatters on the cards.
All hell breaks loose.
Your eyes seem to come into focus in a flash. Luke and Kieran are too quiet as they shoot down the other players at the table. Sylusâs own Evol reaches throughout the room, evaporating bullets before they can hit either of the twins, himself, or you. He doesnât stop watching you.
Your face is contorted with fury. The usual calm neutrality that hides your emotions when you fight is gone. You shatter the glass of scotch on the wooden rim of the poker table. The shard you grab digs into your hand as you aim for the Devilâs jugular. He grabs your wrist with one hand, the other gripping your throat in a vice grip. Even as you lose oxygen, you fight back. You will never stop fighting back. You shake with effort as you push against his hand, but youâre gaining ground.
A black and red tendril of smoke grabs the Devilâs wrist, wrenching his hand away. The shard of glass goes clean through his skin, through his artery, until the pointed tip is caressing his spine.
He sputters up at you with wide eyes, choking on blood. It stains the white of your costume. Stains your skin. Stains the table. His hold on your neck loosens.
You lean down to his ear. âOur deal is over.â
Blood gurgles in his throat as he tries to protest, to argue, to get the last word in.
His hand falls from your throat, hanging limply off the side of the throne. The life drains from his eyes.
The room is still. Bodies lay across the floor. Some lean over the table. Chips and cards are scattered everywhere.
Luke and Kieran disappear down the hall, taking care of the rest of the security that would prevent your escape. Sylus steps over the carnage as he rounds the table. You slowly let go of the glass, not bothering to hide your wince as tiny fragments imbed themselves in your flesh. He wordlessly helps you stand from the dead manâs lap, hands becoming stained with the same blood that covers you.
You finally meet his eyes. And itâs you. The pain and anger and hatred in your eyes is too real, too genuine, to be faked by a puppet master. He brushes the blood splatter off your face with the back of his fingers. You lean into the touch without hesitation.
âAre you alright?â he asks, voice soft.
You take a deep breath in and release it through your nose. You slowly nod.
âThe carâs waiting outside.â
You take a step forward. Your knees give out underneath you. Sylus catches you before you can hit the ground. You hiss in pain as you grab onto him with your injured hand by pure instinct. Your body is still trying to recover from the torture, from the sleep deprivation, from being under someone elseâs relentless control for so long. He effortlessly lifts you into his arms.
âYou can rest now,â he whispers against your hair. You can feel the rumble of each word deep within his chest. It calls to you, encouraging you to let go. You give in willingly this time, holding onto his shirt even as your blood seeps into the expensive fabric, and close your eyes with your ear pressed to his heart.
You look so small and fragile in his arms. He glances at the miserable man in his gilded throne. If you hadnât already killed him, he would have delighted in torturing him the same way theyâd done to you.
The hallway feels shorter as he carries you out of the building. His Evol lashes out at anybody that tries to stop him that the twins missed; footmen who flood in from the side doors. The club is devoid of patrons by the time he passes through the door at the end of the hall. Dancers panic as they hold each other, free from the same power that controlled you minutes prior. Luke holds open the front door. Kieran holds open the rear passenger side door. The car pulls away from the curb minutes before police arrive.
-
You wake up in agony.
Your shoulder blades are the worst. Excruciating pain pulses into your muscles from the injuries left behind from the alligator clamps that pumped electricity into your body. Youâre laying on your stomach to avoid making it worse. It doesnât feel like it can get worse.
You force yourself up onto your hands and knees, your body screaming at you to get away. You canât see where you are through silent tears that plop on the pillow you were just using.
âKitten,â Sylus quietly calls out. You recognize his hands on your sides as he gently lowers you back down to your stomach. You sob into the pillow. âStay still. Iâll be back in a minute.â
You clutch at the covers and pillows until your knuckles are white. A bandage is wrapped around your hand. Blood begins to seep through it.
The bed dips beside you when he gets back. Cool cloths are draped over your back, tamping down the burning temporarily. You sigh with relief. As your fingers relax, Sylus takes your damaged hand and begins unwrapping the stained bandage. His touch is tender, careful not to hurt you further.
âTell me the next time you intend to settle a debt.â Despite how careful he is to make his voice sound neutral and unbothered, itâs edged with genuine worry and care.
You nod slightly.
With the bandage removed, you can see through your blurry vision the telltale sign of stitches pulling your skin closed along the width of your palm. A couple of them are snapped, but there are still enough in place that fixing it now would bring more pain than necessary. His hands donât falter as he wraps fresh gauze around the agitated wound.
âIâm sorryâŚâ You donât need to look to know his red eyes are trained on your face. You can tell in the way he pauses, freezing for just a moment right before he starts wrapping your hand in a new bandage. âHe wasnât this⌠powerful before. Back then, it was my own desperation that caused me to stay, not some fucked up Evol.â
He huffs, remembering the messages that led him to you. âHow much did you steal from him?â
You shoot him a disapproving look, knowing immediately just how he got that info, but the quirk of your lips betrays your amusement. âI almost emptied the whole account.â
He chuckles as he tapes the bandage in place. You lay your hand back down on the bed. He brushes some tears from your cheek. For you to let your guard down around him so freely, especially after what you went through⌠âWhere else are you hurt?â
âBumped my head, but itâs not so bad anymore,â you assure him. It wouldnât be good business to have your prized dancer covered in bruises and welts. The wings of your costume had hid the damage to your back pretty well. Besides, nobody was looking at your back when you sang anyway. Your neck had some bruising from the final confrontation. It would fade with time.
The bed shifts again as he stands up. You can see him disappear into the bathroom out of the corner of your eye. From a window right nearby, a familiar black shape swoops in. Mephisto wastes no time in cuddling up to your cheek, tucking his body by your neck. His beak nips gently at your ear and cheeks while he makes a strange cooing noise.
You smile, closing your eyes and basking in his affections. âHello, Mephie. I missed you, too.â He clicks his beak and bites the corner of your lips. âIâll tell you where I go next time, too, okay?â Seeming to approve your promise, he starts preening your hair.
âYouâre going to wear your voice out if you keep talking so much,â Sylus teases. He sets a glass of water on the nightstand and sets two pills beside it. Theyâre not regular over the counter pain meds; these are definitely heavier duty.
You look up at him sadly. He catches your meaning in an instant. You want your voice to run raw, until speaking hurts too much. Youâve spoken so much the last few days against your will, you need to remember how to shut up again, need to remember the pain of talking.
Mephisto complains as Sylus slowly helps you into a sitting position, fluffing up against the pillow as he watches on impatiently. The cloths fall from your back. He sets them aside once heâs sure you wonât fall over. You hold the pills in your mouth as you take a sip of the water, closing your eyes and focusing on swallowing everything without gagging. You drain half of the glass after with a sigh.
He takes the glass and helps you lay back down. The cloths are replaced on your burns.
âYou should get some more rest,â he says. Mephisto picks at the fine hairs on the back of your neck, continuing his preening. âItâll be easier to sleep this off.â
You pat the bed next to you with your good hand, giving him a pointed, questioning look. He leans down and places a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.
âHow could I say no to you?â
You watch as he undresses and puts on something more comfortable to sleep in. You flip your head over when he crawls in beside you. He lays on his side, hand gently tracing your cheek and jaw. He watched the movement. Your hand glides up his arm to put a stop to his restlessness. Crimson eyes meet yours.
You smile. The motion captures his attention. You drag your fingers lightly along his arm, up his shoulder, and to his cheek. His skin prickles everywhere you touch. A red-hot possessiveness wells inside him, desperate for him to be the only person to experience you like this, mixing with fear that he may never know exactly what they used you for before his arrival. And⌠something softer, full of longing. A desire to keep you safe, to ensure you never have to be afraid with him.
He leans forward with very little coaxing, capturing your mouth like it will redeem him of every sin heâs ever committed. Itâs reverent, full of silent worship. Your lips tremble. He cups your cheek as he kisses you again and again and again.
This will never happen again.
You sigh into his mouth, pure relief stealing the tension from your body.
I know.
---
Tag List:
@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44
#fanfic#fanfiction#sylus#sylus x reader#love and deepspace sylus#lads sylus#lnds sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace x reader#lads#lads x reader#lnds#lnds x reader#gn reader#x gn reader#gender neutral reader#x gender neutral reader#hurt/comfort#angst
154 notes
¡
View notes