#despite this awful haircut

[mihaser]

He is so beautiful

[hauntswitch]

Im so sorry but the L word is absolutely fucking hilarious - none of these women have an ounce of morality between them and yet they're all somehow still loveable characters. Despite the atrocities. And the bad 2000s haircuts. And the deeply questionable fashion choices.

[ephemii]

˙⋆✮Grace Alexander, INTRO✮⋆˙

(finally lol)

. INFORMATION; .

.°⭑ ͙͘͡★ ⭑°.

✶ class: 1A

✶ birthday: January 18 (capricorn)

✶ age: 17

✶ height: 163 cm

✶ dominant hand: right

✶ from: ???

✶ club: gargoyle studies club

✶ favorite subject: history of magic

✶ hobbies: painting, reading

✶ pet peeve: gossipers

✶ favorite food: shrimp soup

✶ least favorite food: yogurt

. TIDBITS; .

.°⭑ ͙͘͡★ ⭑°.

✶ by the time she was told that NRC was an all boys school, she had already been found out by Ace and Deuce. The very next day, she gave herself a haircut, procured a makeshift binder out of old scraps she found in Ramshackle, and the few friends she made adamantly referred to her as a guy. It was almost as if everyone else had imagined her feminine origins.

✶ that being said, it didn't take long for the staff to find out. Crewel tailored a proper binder for her, and even went as far as brewing her a special potion as an extra precaution. She was told to "never get used to this type of hospitality", yet by the end of every month, a prim little box tied with a sleek black ribbon would always be sitting at her front door.

✶ she keeps to herself, and is seldom known to get into trouble. That being said, when being around Ace and Deuce, it's always hard not to get into all sorts of trouble despite her best efforts. Despite the image she projects, she can be quite the brute— sheer force of will is both a terrifying strength and an awful weakness of hers.

✶ fiercely loyal as a friend, and isn't afraid to show her appreciation for others. Her first year friends find it off-putting sometimes, but it does strengthen their bond, if even by a smidgen. Grace once told Deuce how thankful she was to have him as a friend and that he was one of the first to shed some light on her grim situation, and he had to turn away to hide his misty eyes.

✶ huge, and I mean massive crush on Malleus. It took her friends a long while to connect the dots, but their reaction to the newly acquired information was nothing short of hilarious and maybe slightly offensive. The nocturnal fae is none the wiser to their unfaltering stares as he passes by their group during lunch.

✶ has a bit of a lack of personal space. More often described as a curious cat, she likes to peep and slot herself once something or someone catches her attention. It becomes a quickly known fact that she has no qualms over sharing, even if others do. One time, Leona stayed awake for an entire lecture for the first time since his freshman years— not to listen, but to stare vehemently at his golden rings wrapped around Grace's fingers during an elective class. She merely grinned mischievously once she caught his eye.

There's a lot more I could add, but maybe I'll leave those for fics and drabbles lol (which I also need to start working on.. I have like 10 drafts already 😵‍💫) but if you've read this far, thank you! 🩷🩷🩷

[r1elle]

thinking about how 3rd year kageyama most definitely DID NOT go to the barber to get his haircut… so why not make a drabble abt it >_<

“stop it…” the (newly choppy bangs) boy said, giving you a little scowl as you played with his new abomination creation, that is his hair.

but how could you not tease him? it was so cute! he looked like a sonny angels baby… if it was in a hair growth process.

“my baby looks so handsome, how could I not?” you coo, pinching his cheeks and fluffing up his hair. his scowl grows even further, and a pout emerges.

you decide that teasing him probably isn’t the best way to cope with the amount of cuteness aggression you had at the moment, so you stop.

“is it really that bad..?” he says, hiding his face away. oh, and there goes the blush on his ears subtly making its way to his cheeks.

you sigh, cupping his face. he returns his head to look at you, however his pout remains. you highly doubt he even realizes it’s there.

“it’s a little.. choppy,” you start off slowly, trying to revive the setters fallen self esteem,—“but I mean it when I say you still look really adorable!”

yikes, the pout still isn’t gone. “you said handsome, not adorable.” he responds back, in a mutter. since when could he get so sassy? “I should’ve just waited for miwa to come back.” the boy groans yet again, this time with a more obvious defeat in his tone.

you can’t help but chuckle as you kiss the little knit forming on his forehead, due to his eyebrows furrowing with one another. “handsome or adorable, you’re still all of it.” you reassure, evening out his now messy bangs.

“and who knows, this might just be your new look.” you say, and now brows are raised at your response; kageyama with the look of “what are you talking about? this is awful.” and you with the “ehh? sooo?? what’cha think??”

the exchange of raised brows are then halted by kageyama scoffing, putting his hood up just enough to cover his hair. “tch. im never touching those stupid scissors again..”

—•—

the memory of that particular day then replays in your head as you watch him sweating himself off at the olympics; now 19 years old, now older, now more mature…

and yet, still the same haircut.

you can’t help but chuckle to yourself midway into the intense game at the irony of his actions, gaining a few stares from people. but oh well. let them think all they want, because all that matters to you now, is that later on after this match, you’ll be back in his arms with a new thing to tease him with. (well, maybe right after you spoil him and coddle him for reaching his dreams at such a young and admirable age.)

‘never say never, tobio.’

———————————————————————————

shamelessly hitting that post button despite being in nature rn #camping🙂…

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[thatneoncrisis]

could you explain your reasoning for butch harrow? im asking this in a way a student asks a master

ok so. up top: do i think harrow is butch in canon? no. god no. absolutely not. secret third category of person. not butch or femme shes just like A Guy who really fucking likes black

however i do think that between those two ends of a nebulous spectrum, being butch would be way more comfortable for her than femme, if we think of it in the most traditional sense for both sides. there are literally exceptions to every rule femmes can have short hair and wear pants, butches can have long hair and wear makeup yadda yadda. but the way she interacts with certain elements of her presentation in canon just felt to ME, PERSONALLY, that being traditionally feminine would freak her the fuck out

ive seen people compare her compulsion to wear the skull paint to a need to wear makeup and i. very much disagree. id see it more as like, an overtly religious thing, like a nuns habit or a hijab, its modesty and how she shows respect for her god, also routine, its as natural as putting on pants for her. and also frankly if it was an analog for traditional makeup that would be uuuuh awful. like I genuinely feel terrible for women who cannot even leave the house without foundation or contouring or whatever i dont know shit about makeup but holy fuck. if shes femme in that analog id be shaking her by the shoulders GIRL. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE A NAKED ANIMAL

another thing is her hair. so many people read her having short hair and immediately went to a bob or a pixie cut. and between tamsyns inconsistent description of the length of her hair in book one (saying its stuck to her face with sweat despite them being there for like, a month) and the htn cover being The best image we have of her, i understand that conclusion. but in the beginning of gtn its said its close cropped, tamsyn said on her blog post describing all the characters its "cut short (as benefits someone in a monestary)" which is a very interesting choice of words tbh. like im sute she didnt mean harrow is completely bald in the middle with a ring of hair but that Is the monk haircut. and then finally harrow says to gideon outright "i wont cut you bald-even though your hair is ridiculous- because I know you wont shave it every day" which i always took to mean being shaved down to the scalp is just how the ninth is traditionally. in harrow the ninth its said "occasionally ticklish rasps at your ears or forehead would frighten you numb before you realized ut was your own hair" indicating that she is not used to that length at all. also theres the fact that ianthe made her hair grow faster particularly to fuck with her. in short harrows haircut is shitty and utilitarian and any fussing with it has only been described in relation to her direct discomfort

finally theres that goddamn dress scene. why did ianthe put her in that stupid fucking thing. humilation tactic (im exaggerating but it basically was explicitly and exclusively for ianthes own amusement). shes such a simple girl, she just wanted something that could cover her up. its not impossible to have a longsleeved formless dress, but beyond my own opinion that i think harrow would have been uncomfortable in anything, i think the fact this like, explicit symbol of femininity is used to further degrade her in some sense in a room full of people who font reapect her feels like. intentional on the authors end. it quite literally just isnt her, its not even a true black its like a deep midnight blue. you get the pretty woman makeover scene but harrow comes out of it more miserable and resigned than ever. augustines approval means nothing. she looks in the mirror and sees her mother, a woman she appears to not have a single fond memory about. its all very sad

tldr when i talk about butch harrow its less about her "being butch" and more about how unfemme i think she is. also i want more butch4butch dykes i think gideon and camilla should teach her how to tie a tie.

[goldfades]

"kiss me?" / "nope." / "please?" / "...okay, fine." With jack hughes please

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 420 (haha)

♡ ─ warnings | teasing, luke being mean to jack (PLAYFULLY!!), a kiss

♡ ─ ev's notes | this is how i imagine all their arguments start LMAO

You tried your best to hold your laugh in as Luke kept teasing Jack about his long end-of-the-season hair, as he liked to call it. Jack had always been particular about his appearance, but during the end of the season, he often let things slide a bit and Luke loved teasing him.

"Dude, when are you gonna get a damn haircut," Luke joked as he leaned back on the couch, feeling Jack's glare from across the room. "I know you don't want to but I'm tired of looking at it."

Jack rolled his eyes, running a hand through his unruly hair. "It's not that bad, Luke. I'm just letting it breathe a bit."

"Breathe? More like suffocating the entire room with your hair," Luke teased, "Seriously, Jack, I think there might be a bird nesting in there by now."

You couldn't hold in the laugh now, laughing along with Luke as Jack glared at you two. "Jesus," Luke's head fell back in laughter as you shook your head. Jack crossed his arms, feigning hurt.

"Wow, my brother and my girlfriend both ganging up on me." Jack pouted as Luke rolled his eyes. "Never thought I'd be betrayed this badly by my girlfriend... Wow."

"Shut up," Luke retorted as Jack kept pouting. You tried scooting closer to him but Jack rolled his eyes.

"How about you go sit with your new best friend, huh Y/N?" Jack teased as he gave you a hurt look.

"Aw, come on, Jack, you know you're my favorite," you replied with a playful grin, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately despite his protests.

"No, obviously you love Lukey way more than me."

"God, he's so needy." Luke rolled his eyes as he watched the show in front of him with a smile on his face.

"Hey, I heard that!" Jack protested, trying to smooth down his ruffled hair with an exaggerated pout.

You laughed, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on Jack's cheek. "Don't worry, Jack. You'll always be my number one. Now give me a kiss."

"Nope." Jack turned his face away as you let out a loud sigh.

"Jack, please."

Jack looked back at you and smiled. "Fine, fine." He leaned in to kiss you but you swerved him slightly, causing a loud laugh from Luke. Jack rolled his eyes before grabbing your face, planting a kiss on your lips.

Luke pretended to gag, earning a playful shove from both of you. The three of you dissolved into laughter once again.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[skzdreamer13]

AHHHHHHHHHHH I love HYUNJINS new haircut!!! AHHHHHH

okay….hear me out…..

Can you pls write a Hyunjin fic of him getting his new haircut without the reader knowing? And she ends up LOVING IT…. And then like snuggling at the end…

only if you have time ofc or if you want to 😍😍

Love this

Give me love

Oh my god yes lol I've been looking for an excuse all day to write about kiwi Hyunjin!

This turned out a bit angsty but it's still very cute and I hope you enjoy! 🖤

Idol!Hyunjin x Reader

Info ~ Angst, reassurance, insecurities, cuddling

Hyunjin has been nervous all day. He pretty much lied to you this morning about what he'd be doing today and he felt guilty. It was eating him up.

But he also didn't know how to tell you that the hair you love to run your fingers through, braid, tie up, and play with would be gone when he came home later. You always told him you love him no matter what and that you always find him beautiful and attractive. Yet it's eating him up that, this decision he's making might change your mind.

But he needs a drastic change. His hair has been long for too long and it was starting to become obnoxious. Was this an extreme change? Yes, absolutely! But it's what he needs and he knows it, he just hopes you understand and still love him despite it.

~

You're sitting on the couch when you hear the creak of the entryway door. Hyunjin said he was going to the dance studio to practice, but it's only been about two hours, too soon for him to be back. Normally he'd be gone for anywhere from 4 or more hours. Maybe he forgot something.

Standing up from the couch, you're wrapped in a blanket as you walk down the hallway to meet your boyfriend.

"Did you forget-" your words die on your tounge. You look up as he pulls his hat off.

Gone. His hair is gone. For a moment you're conflicted sad that it's gone and simultaneously utterly intranced by his beauty with said new hair style. The way his face takes more of a spotlight, his nose line sharp, cheeks full and flush from the cold air. His eyes borderline cat like. Though his eyebrows are sharp they are furrowed waiting for you to say something, anything.

He looks like he's holding his breath his shoulders up and tense, his back perfectly straight in his puffy coat. His chest rising and falling in short sharp breathes, like your next words could make or break him.

You step closer and you watch his body tense at your movement. Closing the space between you two, you place your hands on his strong jaw line and his eyes go slightly wide. You rub your thumb on his cheeks, the stubble from his face that he didn't shave this morning scratchy against your fingers.

"Jinnie you cut your hair! It's beautiful! You didn't have to lie to me." Your voice is excited and bright but soft and sincere seeing the panick in his eyes. Your words and touch ease him and all his emotions flood as tears well up and flood his eyes.

He can't stop it as a chocked sob racks his body and he hunches over to rest his head in the crook of your neck on your shoulder. You hold him tight and wrap your arms around his large frame. Your hands rubbing up and down his back as he cries. Sweet soft words leave your lips to sooth him as he lets the relief wash over him.

He had no reason to be afraid, he knows something as trivial as a hair cut won't make or break your love for him. But the betrayal of his fans last time he cuz his hair, the awful things they said about him. How many of them abandoned him over it? How many people reduced him down to his looks? He couldn't take a blow like that from you. It breaks your heart to see him this distraught about something as trivial as a haircut.

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Hyunjin says, his voice pouty and soft as he lifts his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere silly." You say and pull away from him to look into his beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. He is still in his puffy outside coat.

You place your hands on either side of his face again, bringing his forehead down to yours. You wipe stray tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he takes a deep breath collecting himself.

You help him take off his jacket and place it on a chair as you grab his hand and guide him, slightly dragging him as he follows you slowly, into the living room.

He sits on the couch and you sit beside him, draping your legs overs his so you're almost sitting in his lap but not quite. Now that you're in the light of the house you get a good look at him realizing not only did he shave his head but he's bleached it blonde!

"Jinnie, I need you to know I'm in love with your new hair!" You say excitedly, over enthusiastic as to try and perk up his mood. You want him to feel confident and happy in his decision. He should, he looks amazing.

A small smile plays on his lips as you bring your hands up to run it across his round head. His hair is soft yet prickly. It's such a fun texture, you could run your hands across it all day.

"I don't know why I was so scared." His voice is regaining its full bodied sound slowly and your satisfied that you've convinced him of how much you love this new look on him.

"I don't know why you were either." You curl up into his chest, legs still draped over his as you listen to his rapid heartbeat begin to relax.

"You know im going to be touching your head nonstop now, right?" You say and he chuckles.

"I had a feeling."

Masterlist

Request ~ Open

Tag List

Tag List

@intrikatie @zennnnny @hannamoon143 @crustless-toast @velvetmoonlght @turtledove824 @skzlover24

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[deadbeat-motel]

ᕼᑌᔕK ᗩᑎᗪ ᑎIᖴᖴTY ᖇEᗪEᔕIGᑎ

Deadbeat father with his baby-leashed daughter.

I believe these are the last of the designs that will try to follow the original design as best as it can because looking at my sketches right now, Alastor, Cherri Bomb, and Pentious (and Crymini) goes a different direction than their counterparts.

You know how this works, thoughts below:

My issues with their Original designs:

Niffty:

Man, I only have two things to critique about this one since she's also a solid design:

What is the purpose of the scarf? It comes out of nowhere for the design, what is the connection/purpose of having it? Genuinely asking since it does bother me a bit.

She barely is a bug, there is no feature in the design that gives us any idea that she might be a bug (Or even an alien since apparently Cyclops are just a normal sinner type in this hell). Looking at the Wiki, I think the only reason for the alien aspect is that it came from a song? Either way, she doesn't showcase any of either in her design.

Husk:

GOD THE WINGS. DEAR GOD THE WINGS. IT'S SO UGLY AND CLUTTERED AND THE PATTERNS BARELY MAKE ANY SENSE. It's so awful ewwww. Every scene that didn't have them closed looked extremely rushed and ugly. It could've benefitted from just copying how actual feathered wing patterns naturally are.

His eyebrows are not a problem for me (It's my favourite part of him) but the unnecessary two black stripes are.

He's probably supposed to be a tuxedo cat, but he legitamately looks like the cat in the hat with his entire face being white.

The thought process for these two:

Niffty:

Personally was not into the whole Cyclops thing, especially when there are no hellborns (that I can recall at least) in Helluva Boss that posess a singular eye. She's got 2 eyes now because.... reasons.

The mismatched eyes was my solution to removing the Cyclops sinners of this world. Plus it's a neat little character detail that her insecurity of some kind of eye defect manifests as this odd eye shape.

Her hair is a bit neater because as much as I enjoyed how her original hair looks, It's kind of silly to think a person who's obsessed with cleanliness would have such an unkempt haircut? (Specifically talking about that scene kid-esque bangs she has.)

While I kept the maid aspect with her clothes, I made it a lot more flowery so that it reads more like a child's outfit mimicing a maid's.

I gave her one fucked up antennae since in the rewrite ill be doing, she's very easily lost and thus became homeless, drifting to any place that would allow her to stay for a little while long until they kick her out.

Bug wings and the spurs on her arms and legs are just to sell the bug aspect a bit more.

Hopefully, it was clear enough. But her arms are made of two arms conjoined together to create a singular arm.

Admittedly, I did not choose a specific bug for Niffty. Insects are not something I'm interested in and I got lazy with this aspect.

Husk:

MADE HIM A LOT FATTER AHAHAHAHHA. Husk feels like he could've ended up as a bara if Vivzie's twinkif-y ray didn't hit him.

Specific fluff areas as well as a red mustache make him look older and do more to make you understand he's much more aged than the rest of the cast.

Genuinely enjoyed the hair that they gave Husk in his flashback, it looked handsome on him. Why Vivzie didn't put that in his actual redesign is beyond me, but here it is on him now

Since his wings barely play any role in the story, I shrunk it and de-cluttered the poor thing.

The red suspenders are there to simply put a pop of color on his already muted colors.

Despite the running joke that Vivzie's characters all have a bowtie, kept it on Husk since I think it would be cute that he probably keeps it on because Niffty made it herself for him.

This is just personal, but I wanted to give him an actual cat's pattern because I saw Husk from the headcanon voices video and thought that he was a sloth for some reason.

[auspicioustidings]

Little drabble based on this. Horrible, gross, awful Johnny ahead who likes you being a little IT basement dweller so isn't about to put up with you trying to be anything else :')

“Who took ye tae the groomers then puppy?”

You startled at the sound of that voice. That voice did not belong here, it belonged back in the base you had transferred from. For a moment you couldn't breathe, but it only lasted until you processed what he had said.

“A hello, nice haircut would have sufficed.”

He swept into your office like he had every right and tangled a fat fist into your hair before yanking hard, looming over you in your chair like he had done the first time you met. You were sure you must have just sprained a muscle in your neck from the force your head whipped backwards with.

“Back chat again? Ye need fucking training. How tae be a polite bitch for your betters 101.”

His nose buried itself in your hair again, although part of you preened knowing this time it was clean. That little bit of pride lasted only until you felt the sting of his teeth scraping across your scalp.

It shouldn't have been shocking, not really. You knew this man was more animal than anything else. But still, to know he was biting around a mouthful of hair, sinking his teeth into flesh that did not present itself easily for feasting, it made your nerve endings sizzle with the thrill and terror of being around a predator. 

You yelped when he properly found purchase, biting down like he meant to leave a mark. He only pulled away with a dark laugh as you felt the saliva pooling on your scalp. You hoped it was only saliva at least. 

“There we are, ye just need the right encouragement don’t ye?” he cooed horribly, one hand still wrapped so tightly in your hair it was painful while the other came to paw at you, petting down your chest. “Ye like yer Sergeant teaching ye your proper place.”

With a vicious squeeze of your breast he let go.

“Rub it in.”

You didn’t know what he was asking, you were just frozen in place trying to figure out how to get him to leave. Before you had to fix his laptop, but he wasn’t here for anything this time, at least not as far as he had said. This was just to torment you. 

“I don’t know what you mean?”

He grinned with feral intent before leaning over your head again. The sound of him spitting made revulsion roil in your stomach. He had put more saliva on your hair. Your clean, freshly recut and styled hair that you had been so proud of just a minute ago. Oh God, that’s what he wanted rubbed in. You shook your head quickly, not able to squeak out your protest. 

“What’s the matter hen? Ye need something a bit thicker for it? Need tae get all pretty on yer knees for me? Could get some on those fat tits too since yer gagging for it. Or maybe I’ll save it all for yer wee pink cunt and get ye some mat leave.”

“N-no!”

“Hm? Want tae beg me tae cum in yer arse instead then?”

You were pretty sure you were shaking so violently that the friction was heating the room. His hot, wet breath was at your ear, that rough brogue making you flush despite yourself.

“Rub it the fuck in.”

It was unpleasant to feel his saliva under your fingers as you massaged it into your hair. You had been so excited to give yourself a bit of a makeover. No more messy, greasy buns and oversized comfy clothes, you had put effort in, got your hair done and kept it clean and down and bought a new set of clothes just for the office. And yet here he was looking at you like his spit in your hair was an improvement. 

When he started taking off his t-shirt you nearly choked. He threw it at you. It smelled like he had worked out in it more than once without bothering to wash it. With one last order he turned and left, his work clearly done. 

“Put that on, ye look like a slut.���

[psychcollegeau]

lassie headcanons because i wanna :3

-the minute he turned 13 he got a face full of zits and he still hasn't cleared it up despite trying every single at home remedy which made it worse every. single. time.

-tried so hard to be friends with juliets brother but ultimately failed horribly (there was an incident with ewan's face and the paintball gun)

-knows every answer in history class but has no idea what a preposition is and how to dangle one

-drinks herbal tea (nope he's lying he's addicted to iced coffee)

-amazing at sports but thinks they're useless (except for paintball and will crush everyone at it)

-extremely conventionally attractive but doesn't care how he looks (case in point, his massive glasses)

-had a buzz cut from 7th grade to 10th until jules finally convinced him to grow it out (he has regrets)

-allergic to hazelnuts and pineapple

-huge minecraft nerd and forces everyone to play with him

-always cold, once wore a blanket to a baseball game in july

-disturbingly strong and can lift everyone in the group (even chief vick which scares everyone)

-has an extremely high pain tolerance which, again, terrifies everyone (especially when he broke his foot and didn't notice for an hour and a half)

-you wouldn't think he likes gossip, but him and jules will spend at least an hour a day talking about jessica's awful haircut or andrew cheating on the last test or whatever the latest news is

-has the worst gaydar in the history of ever (he thought shawn was straight like what)

-makes fun of people constantly but its his way of showing affection (that and acts of service but mostly telling shawn how bad he is at minecraft)

[superblysubpar]

1304 words

warnings: SMUT (unprotected PIV intercourse - cumming on reader’s stomach, blindfold on reader and descriptions of missing the sense of sight, ass slapping) | my blog is 18+

The prompts: [comfort] - a tender kiss to provide comfort or reassurance // [BLINDFOLD] - my muse makes your muse wear a blindfold 

Requested by @tomtomslongdong - thank you very much for constantly supporting all my nonsense, your comments and reblogs truly fuel me 💛 and thank you @rebelfell for finding my banner picture and encouraging procrastination

All you could see was darkness. A sliver of light would slip in occasionally, but it gave you no hints and you were blind to what would be next - making every sound, smell, and touch dialed up to a level that made your skin buzz and toes curl. 

The room smelled like him. Incense that had a faint hint of cherry, but that overwhelming earthy scent. It mixed easily with his cologne surrounding you, spice and cedar, that pulsed off of him with each erratic heartbeat and forceful thrust. Slick skin slipping together and your arousal coating him, sticky between your thighs. 

Maybe the room just smelled like sex. 

It certainly sounded like it. There was the faintest scratch of a radio playing, the hum of a fan that did nothing to cool you off, the sounds of the city floating in through the open window - sirens and stereos, bar goers and car horns. None of it could cover up the heavy breaths that left him, the whines that slipped past your lips, nor the sound of his thighs slapping against yours, the smack of his hand over the curve of your ass. 

That one made your fingers search for something to grab, cool gray sheets curled in your fingertips as your mouth parted in a silent gasp. Eddie’s fingers soothed over the plush skin and your breath stuttered as you suddenly felt his teeth bite you, palm pressing into your lower back as you clenched around him. 

Eddie straightened again, relishing in the way your hips squirmed, the way your cheek pressed to the mattress. His palms cupped your ass, spreading you so he could watch the way he sunk into you and the way your pussy tried to keep him inside with each thrust. He was drunk off of the way you coated him, the way your chin trembled when he pulled out of you and stopped when you were on the edge of cumming again. 

His breath was coming uneven, chest moving up and down rapidly as he tried to cool off. He bit down on his cheek and swiped a hand through his curls, hot despite the new haircut. He swallowed, almost biting his tongue as your knees pushed out further, back arching in a way that made a curse sit ready on his tongue, barely keeping it from falling out of him as you pressed your nose into the sheets, a frown pulling your lips down as you waited for more. 

“Eddie,” his name left you in a pitiful plea. 

You could hear him, breathing heavily, feel the space between his thighs and the back of yours like it was on fire - he was so close but making you wait again. 

“Aw, no more Teddy?” He let one finger drag up your skin from the bend of your knee and he smiled as you shivered, mouth parting before you bit your lip down on a choked sound. 

“It-it was a compliment,” you stretched your limbs, trying to push back against him and he smiled, leaning away as you huffed, stumbling over what you wanted to say, “I didn’t say you couldn’t…you’re tough. I-”

Words cut off as your body flipped quickly, your back pressed to the mattress and your ears felt like they were filled with cotton, the sounds of the world slipping away as the thundering of your heart took over. You waited, hands in the air like they could feel him, knees bent and feet pressed to the mattress as you tried to catch your breath. 

The sensation of his lips on your clit made you jolt up, his hands faster, pushing your hips down as yours found his hair, fingers dragging through his curls making him groan and you sigh with the feeling of finally touching him. He pressed another kiss there, trying to reassure and tease in the same gesture, nose tapping it as he huffed, grumbling, “I fuck. Eddie Munson fucks.”

He crawled up you slowly, kissing at the fold of thigh meeting hips, at the curve of your stomach, his fingers digging into your sides, scratching down your ribs. “Would a soft, comforting, warm guy do you like I am tonight? Huh?”

Each press of his plush lips to your body were little shocks, unsure of where they’d land next until you felt the familiar scratch of his jaw, the hot breath against your skin before they kissed and left goosebumps in their trail. Your hands roamed from his hair, down his shoulders, arms, tracing over the curves of muscles and veins you couldn’t see until you found his hands. You laced your fingers with his as you felt his breath between your breasts, felt him nudging at your entrance. 

Eddie’s tongue licked over your pulse point on your throat as he thrust inside of you again, teeth tugging at the skin as you arched underneath him. Your hands tried to hold onto his, but he let go, grabbing at your thighs and wrapping them around his waist as he pounded into you. 

Watching the way your neck extended, his black bandana still snug over your eyes, hands returning to the bed and gripping the sheets had him looking at the ceiling, telling himself he couldn’t cum yet. The sounds leaving your lips were sinful, whimpered little uh’s and yeah’s as he rolled his hips, encouraging his fingers to travel down and press figure eight’s to your clit. Each thrust in and drag out of you a pornographic wet sound. He closed his eyes, listening to the way you gasped, you swore, the way you said his name. 

When he opened them, his bandana was pushed onto your forehead, off of your eyes, which were big and round, blinking at him as you pulled on his neck, making him bend lower to meet you. You were done following the rules it seemed. 

Your lips pressed to his, slotting together in a slow kiss that didn’t match the pace of his hips. It made his stomach burn, the way your fingers cupped his jaw, thumb brushing over his cheek soothingly as you let him go. His eyes fluttered open, his hips faltering as you arched, your eyes still closed as you spoke into his lips. 

“Need you to cum,” he moaned as your cunt clenched around him, as you hiccuped out a quiet, 

“Teddy.”

He hated what it did to him, the way something in his brain lit up, the way you said it, the way his entire body felt warm from it. Eddie kissed you harder, pulling out of you and releasing on your stomach without warning as your mouth parted over his, letting out breathless babbles of praise from your own release, letting your back return to the bed with a gasp as he pressed more frantic circles into your clit, waiting until your thighs were shaking and you were shaking your head.  

His hands pressed to the mattress, yours still clasped together around his neck. His chest heaving over you, your body flushed and sweat kissed, one hand fell, fingers pressed to your mouth as you hid your smile. He swallowed, watching your eyes flutter open as you returned from the rush of your orgasm. 

It was almost silent, the two of you staring at each other, letting your panting mix with the radio’s crackle, the hum of the fan, and the sounds of the city. Eddie started to shake his head as you started to giggle. 

He caught your moving mouth with his, licking over your tongue in a bruising kiss until your hand was on his jaw and you were sighing, relaxing into it. He pulled away, brows furrowed together, his cheeks turning pink as you bit your lip and blinked up at him. 

“I’m not a teddy bear.”

[thedelicatearcher]

Finnick reacting to your bad haircut

I got a super bad one it's so fucking short help 😭

finnick reacts at your bad haircut

you canceled your date with finnick that evening, too embarrassed to face him after what you deemed to be a terrible haircut. you had gone to the hairstylist with the intention of debuting a new look on your date, finnick always praised the hell out of you after every makeover, but you hadn’t expected the stylist to do such a bad job on your hair.

finnick still showed up at your place, a bouquet of flowers in hand, his mind racing with thoughts about why you had suddenly canceled your date, worried that you might be feeling sick. when you heard a knock on your door, you swiftly put on a hoodie to cover your hair and opened it, surprised to find your boyfriend standing there. “finnick,” you gasped, caught off guard by his unexpected visit,  “what are you doing here?” he chuckled awkwardly, a hint of disappointment in his eyes as you hesitated to let him in, “just checking in on you, sweetheart, can’t i do that?”

a pang of guilt hit you, but the embarrassment of him seeing your bad haircut overpowered it. you kept talking to him with the door half-open, covering your face as much as you could with your hoodie. “you can, it’s just…“ your words faltered, feeling uneasy as you didn’t like hiding things from finnick. 

“just what, honey?” he asked, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. he was growing tired; all he wanted was to come inside and take care of you. “talk to me.” you finally met his gaze, a worried look in his seagreen eyes that made your heart melt. with a defeated sigh, you uncovered your hair, embarrassment causing you to lower your head. despite feeling self-conscious, you and finnick never kept secrets from each other, no matter how insignificant they were.

his fingers gently lifted your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. “what’s wrong?” he asked softly.  “can’t you see, finn? i look awful, my hair is ruined,” you whimpered, struggling to hold back tears, bracing yourself for his reaction.

he let out a chuckle, “that’s it, sweetheart? you canceled our date and acted all mysterious just because of a haircut?” he cradled your face, his big hands caressing your cheeks. “you look so beautiful, mesmerizing as always,” he kept laughing as you stood there in slight shock. without further hesitation, he invited himself inside your place, “let me make you feel as beautiful as i see you, pretty girl.” 

[munsonify]

〔 bondage 〕

〔 summary. eddie practices his knots on your body - making y/n even more beautiful and fuckable 〕

〔 pronouns used. she/her 〕

〔 warning/s. smut 18+. dom!eddie x sub!reader, bondage, oral (female receiving) vaginal penetration, praising, orgasms (female and male receiving), unprotected sex. 〕

〔 word count. 1363 〕

〔 a/n: please practice safe bondage techniques with your partner!! get the proper ropes and learn the proper techniques before actually engaging in bondage!! your safety is key 〕

kinktober masterlist

Sometime in Eddie’s youth, after his uncle had gotten custody of him, Wayne had decided that Boy Scouts was something he should be a part of. He wasn’t the most sociable boy, and his uncle wanted to help in any way he could. If, by helping, that meant putting him into uncomfortable social situations, Wayne had decided it was for the best. And - despite Eddie’s complaints - he’d actually enjoyed his time in Boy Scouts. He’d continued until the sixth grade, his fresh buzz cut what drove him away from it. It wasn’t quite his style anymore.

Even though his social skills were still lacking, Eddie picked up a few different skills during his 5 years in Boy Scouts.

He worked well with string, which helped him anytime his guitar strings had snapped while playing. He would restring his guitar when he needed to, along with his fellow band members guitars. Eddie had considered that as a side hustle; a person who was able to restring a guitar, however, wasn’t something most people needed to utilize.

Eddie also knew how to start a proper controlled fire. He was unsure when this skill would ever come in handy, a fire not something he’d ever need to build. However, while at a few bonfires he’d decided to deal at, he couldn’t stand back and watch a bunch of drunken teenagers trying to start a fire.

What fascinates Eddie the most, though, was tying knots. Even from the beginning, he was one of the bests at it. He picked up on the different knots quickly, and would even find new ways to tie them while other boys struggled with the old ones.

That’s partly how he found himself the situation he was in now.

The conversation was brought up out of curiosity, Y/N catching a glimpse of Eddie’s hands fiddling with a rope he’d gotten off of a broken tree swing beside a trailer. He was tying different types of knots in the rope, each one loose enough for him to unravel afterwards and try another. Her eyes had scanned his rings, before moving up the length of his thin fingers, suddenly becoming warm in the face as she glances away.

“Where’d ya learn to do that?” Y/N’s words slipped out to Eddie in a half whisper, as if embarrassed to have even noticed what he’d been doing for the past 15 minutes. The trailer was small, sure, but they’d been doing their own thing - Eddie with his rope, and Y/N with her book.

“Boy Scouts,” Eddie responded, nonchalantly. He didn’t even look up from his rope. “Only did it for a few years, decided it wasn’t metal enough for me and quit.”

“That explains the god awful haircut you had,” Y/N teased, giving herself a satisfied smile. Her book was long forgotten about in the coffee table. She leaned back on the armrest of the couch so that she had a better look at Eddie, who was sitting on the other side.

“Boy Scouts was more of a cult than Hellfire will ever be. Those were dark days, sweetheart,” Eddie let out in amusement. He glanced over at her, watching the gaze of her eyes land on his hand, which were still lacing through the rope. His amusement only grew.

“Oh,” he breathed out, unraveling the rope all together. Y/N’s eyes gently brought up to his, knowing she’d been busted. Her face went from warm to hot quickly, reaching down to her neck.

Gently, Eddie got up, grabbing Y/N by the arm to drag her to her feet. She curiously followed him to his room, heart racing the closer they got. He tossed the rope to the bed while she shut the door, feeling her back press firmly against it by Eddie’s doing.

His slightly chapped lips were pressed against hers in an instant, a heated kiss quickly forming while curious hands roam. One of Y/N’s hands found it’s way to the base of Eddie’s neck, her fingers sweeping underneath his hair to lace into his curls, nails grazing his scalp gently. The other was left to rest on his shoulder, steadying herself from her already weakened knees.

Nothing was ever slow with Eddie - his hands were already underneath Y/N’s shirt, searching for the clasp of her bra that was quickly undone by him. His fingers were warm against her back, sending chills down her spine at each contact. Contrary to his rough kisses, his hands touched her gently, careful not to pinch her skin accidentally.

Eddie gently began to work on the rest of Y/N’s clothes. He started with her shirt, releasing the kiss to make sure he gets a good look at her tits spring free from her top. Her shorts and panties came off with one swift swoop.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” Eddie whispered, his hands on Y/N’s hips as he shamelessly stared. “So I know I’m not reading this all wrong.”

She could barely speak. The way Eddie was staring at her was intoxicating - the thought of what he was about to do to her even worse.

“Please,” Y/N choked out. “Want you to tie me up.”

With that, Eddie dragged Y/N to the bed, spreading her out perfectly for him. He started off with her arms, tying her hands to the metal bed frame that squeaks with every movement. He made sure the knots were firm but comfortable, before moving to her legs. He virtually did the same thing, her ankles tying to his squeaky metal bed frame.

Stepping back for a moment, Eddie took in way he’d done to her, sucking in a breath as his jeans pinch his boner uncomfortably. Collecting himself for a second, he grabbed an extra pillow he had and slid it under her ass, raising her up a little better for him.

Eddie eagerly stared at Y/N’s aching cunt. He slipped his shirt off quickly, barely getting his belt off before he became frustrated. The moment his jeans were off, he was slid between her legs in a heartbeat, eye level with her cunt. Hungrily, his tongue slid up her folds with ease, splitting them to reveal her hole. He watched as it clenched and pulsated in response to his tongue, letting out a moan of desperation, before delving into her heat.

Y/N’s fuzzy mind had trouble keeping up properly. With every inch of her warm cunt being explored, she became more aware of her surroundings, whining and gasping for air. Eddie knew exactly how to unravel her completely. Normally, her hands would be tangled into the mess of his hair. Now, she could only tug and claw at the ropes around her wrists.

Something inside of Y/N’s chest erupted in that moment - being at Eddie’s disposal was exactly what she’d been looking for. And, with the look in his eyes, she could tell he felt the same.

It wasn’t long until she came on his face. It was messy, and normally that’s worry Y/N. Today, however, that was the last thing on her mind. Eddie, who’d finally taken off his boxers, didn’t waste any unneeded time to line his cock up with her hole.

“Eddie-“ Y/N gasped out, wiggling around desperately in the ropes. “A condom!”

Eddie only shook his head. “Need to be inside of you. For real this time.”

His heavy cock slid its way into Y/N’s pussy, splitting her into two without a care in the world. He relished in the feeling of being inside of her without a condom, knowing it wouldn’t take long for him to release. It’s not like it was much of his fault, anyways - it was Y/N’s fault for looking so gorgeous all tied up and helpless!

Eddie slowly began to roll his hips at a steady pace, reaching down to rub small circles against her slightly swollen clit. The thick head of his cock prodded deep inside of Y/N’s pussy as he got a feel of a proper rhythm. With every few thrusts, she could feel his tip catch against the spongy spot of her pussy, causing a groan every time.

His thrusts became more sporadic and messy as he continued on, his pace become sloppy and fast. With nothing to brace, Y/N’s hands continued to grasp at the ropes in desperation.

“Gonna cum inside of your pussy baby,” Eddie whispered out, groans of pleasure ripping through his throat. “Gonna show you how much I like you tied up like this. Fuckin beautiful.”

It only took a few more short and fast thrusts before he came inside of her pussy for the first time. With the feeling of his cum painting her walls and his thumb still rubbing her clit, Y/N came again, her back arching uncomfortably.

“Perfect girl, so glad you let me do this.”

[namelessprayers]

in a scalding heatwave of 1980s arizona, sua slaved away behind a counter of a dreary diner somewhere out in the middle of who knows where. she minimally swept the tiled the floors and unenthusiastically took cheques from equally unenthused customers, likely driving from nowhere to nowhere on long and wide dirt roads.

eventually, the hue of the sand and the sun would meld together in their eyes; thus, the point of the dingy little pit stop which sua was condemned to work at. it was made just a bit more unbearable by the high temperature on this specifically irksome dayshift she regretted accepting.

"pink hair with blue end's yours." luka said.

for being their manager, he wasn't particularly invested in ever actually doing things. he only ever served the pair of brown haired siblings who came in few and far enough times for sua to not remember their names. another weird thing about luka was the fact that he largely identified people by their haircut and colour. "ivan's still entertaining the red haired one, so, you better get on that."

"right." sua responded dryly, propping her broom back in its designated corner. she stopped herself from letting out a huff of frustration, instead resigned to plaster on a forced smile and comply to luka's orders. "it would be my pleasure."

======

so it turns out that pink hair is a weirdo, despite all things considered, like the fact that they're in the middle of nowhere and by that logic everyone is already pretty weird. somehow, she manages to be weirder.

okay, so maybe there isn't anything wrong with being weird, or wrong with the pink haired girl. still. she's strange, and the way she keeps staring at sua is off putting to say the least.

then again, a lot of people stare at sua. luka says she should lighten up and take it as a compliment, while ivan often laughs over it by telling sua that it's not every day you meet someone like her. though she brushes the words off, she still mulls about the connotations of what ivan insinuates, even if he mostly spouts pointless information.

he can be pretty observant, him and luka both, even if it's uncanny and unnerving in sua's opinion; she supposes it's helpful if there's merit to the observations, and there might be in this situation, as pink hair is earnestly eyeing sua with big bright eyes that might as well be cleaving into her soul.

no, pink hair is definitely weirder than the standard of their clientele.

several times after ordering a singular strawberry milkshake, she calls sua back to get another straw since she chewed on hers too hard or to get a new napkin because she shredded the old one into shreds.

it only feels right when she hangs around for all the rest of sua's shift, to the point that sua can't help glaring in the direction of pink hair as she folds up her apron to leave. when she finishes depositing the necessary things in the storage room, she exits to be greeted by ivan, who's smiling with a tad too much glee as he always does when till is going to be on the next shift within the next hour.

"what do you want?" flatly asks sua, direct as she always is so that she can leave faster and hopefully escape the oppressing heat of the poorly aired diner sooner. like always, ivan grins in the face of sua's bluntness with an edge of irritating amusement. she clenches her jaw, stifling an annoyed sigh but not her frown.

"when did you get a girlfriend?"

"a girlfriend?" echoes sua, both incredulous and skeptical, as well as awed at either the notion or ivan's sheer gall. "i don't have a girlfriend."

"really?" says ivan, tilting his head in a way that flashes his snaggletooth out the corner of his smile. it's smug, like he knows something sua doesn't. immediately, she wonders how much she needs to bribe ivan with so he doesn't go blabbing to luka about her supposed girlfriend. "then what's the pink haired girl at the counter doing waiting around for you?"

"did she say that, or are you just assuming?" sua replies defensively, but also more confidently than she feels, as both answers to her question are going to prove to be a problem.

"she said she's here to pick you up," continues ivan, ignorant to the dilemma it sparks in sua, "did you schedule a hang out and forget or something?" his brows crease ever so slightly as his gaze seems to narrow in on where sua bites the inside of her cheek. "were you planning on brushing her off? because that's kind of a douchey thing to do. honestly, sua, i didn't take you for that kind of person."

"i'm not." she barely manages to grit out in a flimsy rebuttal. "plus, isn't till the one who never shows up on time to- like -everything?"

"yeah," answers ivan with ease and a certain wistfulness in his expression, "but he's allowed to do that." since she's pretty sure the disgust shows on her face, sua walks past ivan and chooses not to dignify his unwavering affliction towards till with a response.

======

the scene has a filmy overlay to it, as though it was put in the oven and hasn't come out, roasting and cooking steadily.

sua chalks up her discomfort to the heat and ties up her hair for good measure, cursing the fact that she hasn't yet gotten around to cutting it. of course, the insane climate isn't the craziest thing sua's got to tend to at the moment, as the pink haired girl was and is still being insistent in... well, in being an interesting sort of nuisance.

"you're saying you've been looking for a long time across parallel dimensions. specifically, looking for me." surmises sua in the most saccharine tone she can muster. then, with an air of added wonderment, "for me?"

"uh huh. who else?" asks pink hair, genuinely pondering in the question that sua doesn't get; it should be more like literally anyone else but her. somehow, pink hair doesn't seem to agree. "in every universe, no matter the circumstance, i meet you and you change my life. that's just the way it is sua, i don't know how else to explain."

"wait, how do you know my name?" says sua, managing to wrap her thoughts around approximately half of what impossible narrative this stranger is giving to her.

"the alternate dimension travel, obviously." comes the immediate statement which sua only gives a disbelieving a stare to. pink hair raises her free hand and drink with wide disarming eyes. "i'm not lying. i really have been looking, and for a very long time. see, in every universe, we've already met and there's no room for me. i'm just an extra. the entire scheme of existence doesn't really have a place for me to be. so, i thought, maybe if i found a sua without a mizi, there'd be an empty space that i could fill."

"a mizi." mulls sua aloud. "so that's your name." she affirms, more to herself than to the other, but mizi gets the memo and flushes bright red anyways.

"shoot, i did kind of forget to introduce myself, didn't i? well, no time like the present to do it. i'm mizi." she amends, extending a hand sheepishly for sua to shake. the miracle is that their fingers and palms don't feel all that sweaty when they touch. if anything, sua supposes it seems kind of right. a correction of her life.

"i'm sua. but you already knew that."

======

bizarre as their first meeting was, sua is glad for it. mizi doesn't mention much upon the subject of why she had to traverse such lengths just to find sua, but it doesn't matter so much, now that they have each other and can stay that way for as long as existence allows.

instead, mizi likes to go over the many universes and ways they fell in love. they're officially girlfriends now, although ivan and everyone else is under the impression that sua had just been keeping a secret girlfriend from them for the last five years of working at their quaint diner in the middle of nowhere.

which is to say that everyone else are idiots, but sua doesn't mind when she finishes shifts and locks up to be greeted by mizi's sincere smiles and bubbly laughter. sua doesn't know if mizi was lying about the parallel dimensions and hopping through realities where they were always together, but she thinks there's truth to it, even if it was a largely fabricated thing to get sua's attention.

then again, she doesn't think mizi's capable of being anything but honest. it's one of the things she loves most about her; the ability to be realistically optimistic, against all odds.

======

"how do you deal with it, being here where no one is anybody and we're all nobodies? isn't it... sad? don't you wish you were in any other universe since you've seen them all?"

"i can deal with it because of you. i don't feel like a nobody with you; and if we were actually somebodies in other timelines or worlds, i don't think i need much in this universe. maybe, this is just a respite, and maybe that's enough. yeah, it's sad, but it's not lonely. there's no other place i'd rather be than right here next to you."

sua thinks they might be cosmically intwined, or something like that.