#i keep forgetting that this is official cover art

[divine0]

which one is gayer.

[camilledlc]

I think Wade Wilson is way more intelligent than people give him credit for. Or, another character essay no one asked for :

This will be based both on comics and movies. Also, spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine.

I think it's often said that Wade doesn't know how to read situations, as he often acts inappropriately during them. He doesn't seem to sense the mood of the person he's talking to, angering them more often than not, and he doesn't really care about watching his mouth around children, etc. There are tons of examples of Wade being 'stupid', and 'immature', blah blah blah. But I don't think that's quite true.

Wade has also numerous moments where he perfectly reads a situation. He is extremely aware of how others may perceive his scars, he figured Negasonic Teenage Warhead pretty easily during the first movie (when talking about sarcastic comments or whatever, if I remember correctly). He knows how people act and think, and he definitely knows how to assess a situation. When he got Johnny Storm killed, he knew what he was doing. He was into a dangerous situations, just having been kidnapped and he couldn't fight, not even knowing how strong and what powers Cassandra Nova had. But by turning her against Johnny, not only was he able to assess her, but also prove that he wasn't here to cause her trouble. It was a cruel and ruthless action, but it was smart nonetheless.

Besides, people often forgets very important facts about his skills. Wade is an extremely good fighter, and that's partially due to the fact that he's a master at almost every martial arts. He knows a bunch of them, and he is capable of practicing them with impeccable form. He's also a master at espionage, infiltrations, cover missions, etc. He knows how to handle a lot of different weapons, and he is canonically one of the best fighters in the entire Marvel Universe. All of those skills require a certain level of intelligence. Fighting demands to remember the different styles and techniques, as well as enough practice to switch between them easily. Espionage, infiltration, and cover missions demand someone who is capable of discretion and and ability to judge a situation, notice details that no one else would and invent on the spot creative ways to do things. All in all, he has to be extremely smart to be able to do all of that. That's also without counting the fact that he knows how to speak fluently five different languages.

With all of these proofs, it's impossible to say that Wade is dumb. But why does he acts like it?

There is no official answer as to why Wade is this way. The most you can get is that he is extremely mentally unstable. This is the result of both a bad childhood and very traumatizing experiences as a superhero. It is said he was already mentally unstable during his childhood, so I'm inclined to believe that it also has something to do with his brain in general.

What I personally believe is that Wade is someone who gets bored extremely easily. He has ADHD (not really official in the movies, but canon in the comics), and he always seems to jump from one topic to the other. His mind is often considered a mess, and he himself sometimes has trouble keeping up with it. I think that someone like him has to be stimulated at all times, because boredom is definitely the worst thing that could happen to him. Even in the last movie, he seemed to hate his job because of how boring it was, not hesitating to go back into action and becoming more and more himself again as he just do exciting things. He has always been like this, even before he got his regenerating factor. When he did his job, he wasn't always careful and often loud-mouthed. It didn't interest him to just kill people, he wanted a fight. He wanted a back and forth, a sort of game. He needs to feel in danger, needs the thrill of it.

But then he gets his mutation. Suddenly, he can't die, he can't be seriously hurt, nothing has any real consequences. And so the games became boring. What is the point of putting himself in dangerous situations if he's never really in danger? How boring it is to do a job where you're perfectly safe? The only kind of thrill he can find anymore is by having the back and forth verbally. That's when it has consequences, and people actually able to surprise him, to beat him even. Attacking by talking his is one way to not feel bored. He surprises, he shocks, he annoys, but it's always different. Even during the last movie, when he was with Logan, he clearly said they didn't need to fight, yet he couldn't stop edging him verbally, always finding ways to push his buttons.

Wade is a very bored person, with a great understanding of where the limits are. And because he's so good at finding the limits, he's even better at crossing them willingly, sometimes at the expanse of the people he loves, because he can't be bored.

(I also like the interpretation of him just needing to be at the centre of attention, but I think it's a bit more classical and has already been done and re-done. So, this one is a bit trickier and way funnier for me.)

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 10 - Next

Daisuke: "Do you need anything else? I can give you my cookies if you like."

You were sitting in the bathroom, hugging your legs, your body trembling, you had a bucket of hot water and a cup to wet your body with it.

Daisuke was keeping you company outside, sitting and making small talk, trying to cheer you up.

Your body was covered in red marks from the number of times you had rubbed the sponge against your skin.

"It's not necessary"

Daisuke: "It wasn't your fault"

"I should have launched him into space when I had the chance."

Daisuke: "Like among us?"

His comment was so strange that you couldn't help but laugh for a second; it had caught you completely off guard.

"Exactly"

Daisuke: "Would you feel better if we do it now? Let's say he went out to fix the ship and got lost in space by accident!"

You kept laughing at his words, it made you happy to have him with you.

"Thank you for making me company"

You couldn't see him, but you were sure he was smiling with pride.

Daisuke: "Hey... he... you are not... You know...?"

That question brought you back to reality, looking at your body and sighing.

"No, I can't get pregnant Daisuke, don't worry about it."

Daisuke: "Anya told me everything and... I felt horrible... Useless... Maybe I could have done something and-"

"No one could do anything, it's not our fault for trusting people, the only one to blame here is Jimmy."

You finished rinsing off with water so you could go out and get dressed.

When he saw you leave, he got up from the ground to walk by your side.

Daisuke: "Are you going to launch him into space?"

"If you keep bringing up that idea, I'm going to give in to temptation."

You smiled at him to go check how the ship's trajectory was going; according to the calculations, there were only two weeks left to reach the station.

Daisuke: "What are you going to do when we get back home?"

"Well... I think I'm officially going to retire from space jobs... Maybe I'll dedicate myself to being a housewife during the day as a cover and a mobster at night to make money."

Daisuke: "Come on, tell me the truuuth" he said, laughing and pulling your arm.

"Well... I haven't thought it through yet, I've worked my whole life here, and now that they're going to fire us, I..."

Daisuke: "What would you like to do?"

You looked at him somewhat confused, as if you hadn't quite understood his question.

Daisuke: "You know! What did you dream you would be when you were little?"

"You're going to think it's stupid."

Daisuke: "Nooo! Of course not! I wanted to be a firefighter when I was little, but then I wanted to go to art school, although my parents didn't like that idea much at first - and when I couldn't get in, they got me this."

"....I wanted... to be a pastry chef"

Daisuke: "Seriously?? That's awesome! You should start trying when we get back!"

"Maybe I'll give it a chance..."

You stopped in front of the nursery and gave Daisuke a look to say goodbye to him before going inside of that room.

You went straight to sit next to Curly.

"I already know"

Those were your only words, and immediately he started to gasp, trying to speak to you but nothing came out of his mouth.

"I told you, for years, that man was a jerk, that he would only bring you trouble. You had to see his atrocities to believe it, didn't you? It had to hurt you for you to realize... You didn't listen to me, or to Anya... Now you'll have that on your conscience for the rest of your life." 

You closed your eyes for a moment to avoid seeing him, but you could hear their sobs.

"I hope you have learned because... if something like this happens again... You can forget about me forever."

You lowered your head until you gently rested it on his chest.

"I forgive you... Because you have forgiven me when I have done horrible things... I forgive you... Because it's not your fault wanting to see the good in everyone but..." 

You raised your gaze to look directly at his face.

"You can't make everyone happy, you'll always have to choose someone... Now you... Who do you choose?"

You were surprised when you felt his arm on your back, as if he were trying to hug you tightly, assuring you that he would always choose you.

[withonly-sweetheart]

Missin' You

A bad history makes for a wonderful future, right? You're willing to forgive and forget for the man you've always been down bad for.

a/n: OK THIS IS A REALLY OLD FIC... i haven't edited it too much or anything i just added some things here and there yk yada yada did stuff

first smut fic like explicit... ish... whatever. honestly this is just to address the allegations of me being a minor (UNTRUE.) and just for me to see it put out on something official !!

anyways @bunnivievve SHE MADE THE BANNER ART GO CHECK IT OUT ITS ACTUALLY WHAT INSPIRED ME TO DIG THIS FROM THE GRAVE AND REVISE IT!! LYSM GIRL <3333

tw: literal smut. like mdni seriously. also mentions of gore, death, a lot of references to spain just assume that the reader was with leon in the events of re4.

wc: 14.5k

The guy lunges for you, hands outstretched, a determined expression on his face. You step back and slam your rifle against his head, then open the door he was guarding, crushing his microphone under your foot before stepping inside. You grip your gun tightly, alert for potential threats, but it seems they forgot to guard the inside of the room.

"I'm inside," you say quietly, pressing a finger to your ear. The feel of the smooth black metal soothes you. "Permission to—"

"No," Rebecca replies immediately. "Absolutely not."

"What happened to Chris?" you ask, slightly confused as you traverse the room. He had told you he was the commander for this mission.

"I kicked him out because he would’ve said yes," she states simply.

"Sometimes I hate you." You were counting on Chris to give you permission for this. It was your only way to a promotion, which meant more money.

"Your request is denied," she repeats. "Turn back, we're sending in—"

You don't let him finish. You take out the radio that controls the communication device and switch it off. Breaking it would be too risky in case you get yourself into something.

You shoulder your rifle against your back as you press against the wall, glancing into the open doorway. You shine your flashlight once, twice, and one more time before stepping into the room with your gun raised. Almost immediately, relief floods you as you see Sherry sleeping soundly on a bed on the other side of the room. You walk around the table in the center, brushing against the chairs, growing more excited with each step.

This was it. The first mission that Chris had entrusted you with since he learned about Spain and... him. You promised that everything would go smoothly, but he still warned you to be wary of everything. Now it seemed too easy.

You near his bed, heart pounding. Then you smack straight into something, but there's nothing there. You step back, shaking your head, dazed. When you stretch out a tentative hand, fingers shaking, they graze a surface you can't see. You push your palm against it, forming a fist.

"What the…" you whisper to yourself, debating whether or not to report this to Piers. Just as you bring your hand up, you hear the distinct click of a magazine reloading and duck.

The bullet flies past your head, barely missing your skull. You can almost feel it parting your hair. Crouching to the floor, you pull out your gun. Luckily, the table provides ample cover as you stalk around to the other side, keeping your footsteps as still and quiet as you can.

"You're not as quiet as you think," a sultry female voice says. 

Screw that, then.

You grit your teeth and glance under the chair to see a full-length, ebony blue bodysuit with black accenting straps. Blond hair pulled back into a slick ponytail and piercing brown eyes scan the room as her shoes clack on the tiles, slowly nearing you.

You don't recognize her, but her voice stirs something inside you, a faint memory. Those eyes seem familiar. 

You bolt for the door, mind racing. She's too busy examining Sherry, too busy stirring her from her sleep, too slow to stop you from slamming the door behind you. About ten feet away from the room, you circle around the same pathway you used to get inside, to the parking garage just as the door's hinges give way as it crashes to the floor. The woman recoils from an extremely powerful kick, her gaze finding you.

You skid to a stop as her brimming eyes ground you to where you are. She breaks into a run, and that jolts you back to reality. Her... eyes. Sherry, that smart, smart girl sneaks around the back of the corridor to join you.

But as you faintly register her gentle touch, you’re still staring at the woman.

"Jill?" you choke out, a click of recognition. Her footsteps grow louder, more insistent towards you.

You swing your legs onto the motorcycle.

“Wait,” Sherry calls out, voice faint. “Just…”

You grip the handlebars tightly, then turn on your comms. Almost immediately, Rebecca’s voice comes through, panicked. And as everything is going to shit, of course, Sherry collapses in front of you.

"Are you stupid?" she lectures, oblivious. "Why would you turn the only way we can communicate with you off? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Calm down, I'm fine," you say, glancing down. "But I think you might want to come get the target."

"Why?" she asks, and you suppose you should be grateful she only sounds slightly angry. "What did you do?"

"Nothing. She just fell."

"I'll send a team out right now—but do not move," she says sternly.

"Don't worry, sir," you reply sarcastically. "I won't go anywhere."

"They're on their way. Please—" Rebecca gets cut off as the revving of another engine startles you. You glance to the other side of the parking lot, the realization that you aren't alone hitting you. Another motorcycle shoots from the entrance, heading for you.

You’re about to make the most insignificant escape in history when you see Sherry lying facedown on the concrete. Great, they're here for her, you think, then quickly lug her in front of you. It's an uncomfortable position, but the other motorcycle is catching up the ramp quickly.

You shoot towards the exit, cradling the girl between your legs as you carefully maneuver between lanes of traffic. You make it to some abandoned wasteland, thinking that you've lost the pursuer.

Then the same flashy, ivory motorcycle bursts through the brush and skids to a stop in front of you. You quickly start the engine again, but they've already caught up. You race alongside each other in silence, and you can't tell if they're here for her because they make no move to try and get her.

You look to your side, and the motorcyclist is looking straight ahead. "Are you part of the team?" you shout over the wind. Their head snaps towards you, but you don't get a reply.

You assume that the defenses will take care of them when you get to the base, so you skip the detour and race straight for it. The walls open, but no one tries to stop the other guy. The new sentry tries to convince the seniors, but they all shake their heads, smiling, as if they know something.

Confused, you swerve around shipping containers, ditch the bike, and sling Sherry’s arms around you, carrying her inside. You can't see where the guy is, so you drag her into the base and into the elevator.

They go through all the protocol—checking identity, running tests, all that bullshit. No one seems concerned that an intruder's lurking inside the base.

What if they don't know? A realization hits you. What if they managed to evade them somehow?

There's no way, another voice, a logical one argues. How could they have? We have the best technology in the US.

Not like that’s done any good shit for you.

A few nurses roll the girl in on stretchers, and you collapse onto the couch.

"You look like shit," Rebecca comments.

"Shut up, you wouldn't know anything about it. After all, your job is to send reinforcements to people that actually need it," you say jokingly.

Your friend fakes a hurt look. "Is that how you talk to your friend?" She sits down beside you, pulling up her tablet. "You wanna know about her?"

"Why not?" She hands you the tablet, and you read the profile. "Sherry Birkin… as in… Raccoon City?”

"That's the one."

"And?" Rebecca's eyes darken, but she tries to hide it behind an innocent smile.

"I don't know, actually. We... never got the data. Only that she’s been harboring the T-Virus for a long time."

"Liar," you say, but you let it go. After all, if she's not telling you, there's a reason behind it. "I like her though. You know, a guy followed me inside."

"Who?" she asks almost immediately. It's so fast that you get slightly suspicious. "I mean... do you know?"

"How should I know?" you say, crossing your arms. "It's not like anyone tells me anything around here. Besides, he practically followed me in."

"About that..." she begins sheepishly.

"What?" you demand.

"We all took a vote," she says quickly. "And we decided it would be better not to tell you about the new arrival because of your past and all the things you've told us, and we thought you might not be happy with it—"

"Just get to the point," you interrupt. "What's going on?"

"So... that guy who followed you in? He just joined, but he's made it clear he's one of the DSO’s best agents. I don't think you know he exists because the admin made it clear we shouldn't tell you."

"And why should I not know about this mystery man?" you raise an eyebrow.

Rebecca shrugs. "Dunno. Apparently he asked to be kept secret."

"So a mystery man who doesn't want me knowing that he exists... hm, wonder who that could be." You pretend to feign ignorance for Rebecca's sake, but your mind's already formed an idea of who it is.

After all these years, he's back for revenge.

"I can't tell you," she says apologetically. "Maybe you'll meet him at that conference today?"

"What conference?"

"Girl, seriously? The one with the agents? About the mission?”

"That's today? Shit!"

"Yeah, you're getting paired up." Rebecca stands and pats her coat down. "I'm going back to the lab. I'll see you later."

<><><><>

"So..." Chris leans back in his chair, resting his head on his hands. He looks oddly relaxed given the situation. "Wesker's not going anywhere since he’s managed to cheat death twice. It won't take long to infiltrate his manor. What now?"

"Either we take action, or we sit and wait," Helena replies, gritting her teeth. She has a somber look on her face. You don't know much about her, but she seems mysterious, as if she's hiding secrets. Then again, aren't we all?

"Why are you here, again?" Piers Nivans, Chris's new recruit, asks with his eyebrow raised.

"I'm on the mission," she chides. "My partner isn't here yet."

"Do you know who your partner is?" you ask her.

"Of course I do," she snaps. "Do you think I'm dumb?"

"Can I... know, by chance?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It doesn't concern you." She turns away from you, crossing her arms.

"So... I guess you'll be paired in case her partner doesn't show." Chris glances at the ground, his expression darkening as he mutters, "I wouldn't expect him to, anyways."

"And how do you know?" you ask quietly. Chris doesn't respond, his face stony.

The air turns awkward, and you sit in silence for a moment longer before Piers interrupts, "So, uh, captain, we should get some sleep."

"Good idea," Chris says quickly. "We need our rest." He stands up, but you grab his arm before he can leave, looking up at him.

"Wait, if Helena's partner shows up..." you trail off, hesitant.

Chris smiles wearily. "Don't worry. You'll still be with her. Trio wouldn’t hurt."

You exhale, relieved, then smile. "I'll hold you to that. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replies, shutting the door behind him. You can hear his and Piers's footsteps fade away, and then you glance at Helena. You open your mouth, but she shuts you down before you can say anything.

"Before you ask, no, I'm not going to tell you who my mission partner is, and I'm not interested in getting to know you."

"... I was going to ask if you could hand me that blanket."

You don't know how long you sit there. Helena stares out of the window, legs and arms crossed. You slump onto the pillow, clutching the blanket around you.

"I think that it might help if you learned that you might need to work with me," you say.

"I know," she says simply. "Phase one of the operation happens tomorrow. Get some sleep. And... don't take anything too lightly, okay?"

You don't know what she means by that. You're still thinking about it on the car ride to the manor. As you pull up, you cast a glance at her face, soft and fresh. When you woke up, she was making coffee for you both. You wonder why she switches back and forth with you.

"Alright, people, this is it. Everyone clear on their roles?" Chris’s weary tone holds an undercurrent of urgency.

"As clear as it'll ever be." You run your hands through your hair, nerves getting the best of you. Helena’s face softens, a reassuring look in her eyes. You feel like glaring at her. Your feelings about her are "don't trust her" at best.

Piers speaks again, his gaze boring into yours. "We blow this, there's no second chances. You listening, rookie?"

You stiffen defensively. "Hey, lay off, I know what I'm doing."

Chris cuts in. "Enough, we don't have time for this. Helena, you're on watch. Piers, you've got our exit. And—" he fixes you with a steely glare— "don't screw this up."

You nod, anxiety mounting. Helena peers through her scope. "Alright, looks like they're moving in."

Piers steps into position by the getaway vehicle. "Hurry it up, I don't like standing still for long."

Chris hands you your gear. "You're up. Do your job and we all go home, a step closer to beating this asshole. Understood?" You take a slow breath and check the belt, lined with tactical knives and daggers. You slip it under the hem of your dress, hidden from sight but easily accessible.

"He'll tell me the code, right?" You glance up.

Chris gives you a curt nod and a pat on the shoulder. "We're counting on you."

"Jesus, it's like you're expecting me to fail," you say, a small smile curving the side of your face as you turn away. You take a deep breath, then approach the entrance of the manor.

You could get turned away right here. The scary thought flashes through your head, almost stopping you. You could fail the mission right here. You could mess everything up.

"Excuse me, miss," a voice says, giving a small smile. The man to your right, guarding the entrance, extends a hand. "Invitation, please?"

You slip out the thin paper, the fake engravings brushing your fingers as you pass it to him. He gives it a cursory glance and nods to you. You dip your head and step inside.

The air is cooler than the summer air outside, probably due to air conditioning. Your eyes adjust to the dim lighting from the chandeliers, and you're immediately awestruck. A majestic staircase rises up and curls elegantly along the wall, its polished steps gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Intricate carvings adorn the banisters and newels, depicting scenes of frolicking angels and mythical beasts.

Even with this masterpiece, there’s still enough room for guests to mingle around the area. Built into the bottom of the staircase seems to be a bar of some sort, at which people laugh and drape their long, nimble fingers over glasses of swirling wine.

You walk slowly towards the staircase, feeling out of place. The carvings seem to come alive as shadows dance across their surfaces, leaping for you, telling you that you don't belong here.

You take a moment to wait for anyone to approach. No one does. You assume your partner must be running late and commence with stage one of the operation: find someone close to the target.

Taking a steadying breath, you near the grand staircase as a swirling sea of aquamarine silk and satin. There's a soft ballad starting to play, and you realize that if you don't find someone to dance with quickly, they might single you out.

Your eyes flit over the glittering crowd, picking out a victim turned away from you, engaged in animated discussion with several others. He turns to the side, exposing his face and laughs, flashing white teeth, then you recognize him.

James Marcus. You would pull up a profile on the man, but there's barely any information about him—known to you, at least. His white hair is chopped back in that classic old-man haircut, and you grimace, wondering if you really have to. Across the room, Chris gives you a look, his eyes holding a message. You can almost hear his voice yelling at you.

Hurry up before he leaves. Another voice argues, what if he doesn't want to dance? How will you keep him occupied and get information?

Only one way to find out. You glide over, catching the tail end of their conversation. "...simply unacceptable, the terms must be renegotiated." You try to make your presence known with what was meant to be a delicate cough, but it comes out as... well, something. It gets their attention. They glance over at you with bewildered eyes. You continue with a subtle, "Pardon my interruption, but might one of you honor me with a dance?"

Please don't have one of those other guys say yes, please, please, you repeat in your head, stealing a look at a burly man standing close to him, his suit looking as if it's about to rip.

Marcus eyes you appraisingly. Oh shit, he's going to— Before anyone can say anything, he suddenly bows. "The pleasure is mine, my lady." Relaxing slightly, you let him take your hand and lead you into the dance.

As you move in time to the orchestra, you try to feel him out, probing for his relationship with Wesker and other targets you had your eye on without arousing suspicion. His answers provide mere grains of insight, but he guards his full thoughts well.

You break away, smiling politely before heading for the bar, another face catching your eye. Just as you step towards the stools, a figure crosses in front of you, stopping directly as you glance up, slightly irritated.

"Hey," the waiter says casually, a tray of drinks balanced in his hand. He's wearing a black mask, the edges fanning out, looking soft and light. You want to reach out and touch them, but you don't. Even though you're glaring intensely at his face, he doesn't meet your eyes. "I don't suppose you're..."

"You've got the wrong person," you say quickly, stepping to the side. He copies you, blocking your path. The target, Edward Ashford, laughs and turns away, calling for another glass of fancy wine. "I think you're forgetting where we are."

"I'm not that certain," he replies smugly with a small chuckle. He still doesn't look at you. "Care for the next dance, my lady?" Great, another distraction.

You argue that if you give him one dance, you'll get back to the target faster. The ball lasts for three hours; you have plenty of time. Besides, you're intrigued. There's something familiar about the glint in this guy's eye, the fall of his hair over his ears.

You place your hand in his, allowing him to sweep you into his arms. He spins you around for just long enough to slide his tray, still clustered with drinks, onto the bar counter without spilling a drop.

You blink in confusion, but he pulls you near the clump of people, and as you move in time to the lively rhythm, he leans in, warm breath ghosting your ear. "Simmer down, Falcon. I believe we have... business to discuss."

You inhale sharply but don't miss a step. So this is more than just a chance. "I see. And what business might that be?"

"Only that I've been assigned as your partner for the duration of this mission. You didn't really think they'd send you in alone, did you?" His eyes gleam with quiet amusement, gaze flickering to the weapon hidden beneath your evening gown, a silent reminder of the danger you're facing.

"They told me," you say indignantly. "They also said you wouldn't show."

"Well, you can count on me, princess," he says, flashing a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, then glancing down at your dress. You feel silly in it, but Rebecca insisted it was essential to the look.

So, this is him. Your new partner, and somehow you’re slightly disappointed to find he’s nothing like who you expected, at least not based on outward appearances. You fight to control your expression. For now, you simply say, "Don't call me that. We have a lot of work to do."

"We're not going to that guy you were looking at," he says quickly, bristling. "He won't be useful."

"How do you—"

"I just do." You blink in confusion before shrugging. As you circle the ballroom again and again, searching, you notice the amount of weird looks you're getting.

"Hey, they're giving us weird looks." You look up at your partner. "What's with them?"

"Well, we're not dancing correctly," he says flatly. "Maybe that has something to do with it?"

"What?" You kick away the hem of your dress. "Why are you just bringing this up?"

"I mean, I tried getting you set correctly, but you keep slapping my hand away," he says, a twinge of exasperation in his tone.

"We— I— You—" You stutter, a faint heat fanning your cheeks. You thought he was trying to do something less civilized.

"C'mere," he says, his voice suddenly low. He puts a gentle hand on your waist and curls his other hand around yours. He tilts his head to his shoulder. "Other hand, here."

You do as he says, and for the next few rounds, people don't turn over their drinks to look at you as often. There's a foreign feeling in your stomach, igniting fire in your chest.

"Looks like Wesker's enjoying his show," he remarks.

"Maybe he just prefers operating covertly instead," you hiss. "Like we should be. Keep your voice down."

"Perhaps, but we won't get anywhere cowering in the shadows," he replies with an impatient edge that seems oddly familiar.

You frown. "Proceeding with caution is not the same as 'cowering.' Rushing in could jeopardize the entire mission."

"We need to take the initiative if we want results," he insists stubbornly. There’s something in his tone you think you recognize, but you've never met him. Of course not.

"Initiative is one thing, but not without a plan. Discretion is key here," you argue diplomatically.

He scoffs dismissively. "Plans tend to fall apart. Better to act and adapt than overthink ourselves in circles."

Engrossed in your debate, you take a step forward just as he does and collide directly into his solid form. He lets out a surprised "oof" as the wind gets knocked out of him.

Flailing your arms to catch your balance, you only succeed in further unbalancing you both. Your partner windmills helplessly, grasping for any support, and ends up seizing hold of the poor server who had been quietly passing by with a towering three-tiered cake.

The man goes toppling over with a yelp, and the magnificent confection sails up into the air as if in slow motion. You watch in horror as it seems to hover there for an eternity, the frosting and pastry suspended, while you and your partner collapse on the floor in a sweaty heap, the servant stretching his arm in a failing attempt to save his masterpiece.

Time speeds back up as gravity takes over, and with a massive splat, the entire cake slams into you and your partner. Icy frosting and chunks of sponge coat you from head to toe in an instant.

The ballroom falls deathly silent, all eyes now turning in shock to the spectacle you had unwittingly created. Through the mess obscuring your vision, you make out your partner staring back at you with equal disbelief written across his visible features.

Someone storms from a metal door, raising a spatula angrily. "L'ho appena sfornato! You know how long it takes to bake a cake?"

Meanwhile, the server whispers to himself, "I'm going to get fired, I'm gonna get fired, my life is over, I'm so done for," as if it were some reassuring mantra he was chanting.

The cream from the cake bursts forth on impact, now oozing over your shoulders and down your arms in long, dripping ropes. Your hands and legs below are caked in a technicolor mess—swirls of blue, pink, and yellow seeping through the thin fabric of your gown.

Through the haze, you see Chris push through the crowd, crouching down to help you. There's a strangled expression on his face, but he calls out to the crowd, "Sorry, my daughter and her fiancé are new to this. Please accept our apologies and we'll be headed home."

The murmur of people around you, their soft voices and judging gazes, aren't what stings and provokes your forming tears. What hurts is the disapproving look on Chris's face as he lugs you out of the ballroom, the sun heating your chilled arms, and the realization that you've failed everyone.

<><><><>

You slowly tug off the silver mask, then your billowing dress, covered in crumbs and frosting, and throw it aside. You kick your heels off and unclip your hair. It falls across your bare back in cascades of brown dotted with blue, pink, and yellow as you step into the bathroom. You switch the setting to the hottest it can go, which isn't even close to the burning, searing feeling in your chest.

Not the one you felt with your partner, but the one that slowly began to spread when you tried explaining to Chris what had really happened, and all he said was to leave.

"That's an order from your commander," he had said quietly, eyes cast downward. "Now get out of my face."

The scalding water pours over you, but does little to soothe your thoughts. You lean your head against the cool tile and try to process the events of this evening.

It looks like your own commander has lost faith in you, his dismissal cutting deep. As the clouds of steam envelop you, you try to decide your next move. You don’t know if you should abandon not only the mission, but the job entirely. It seems you can’t do anything right, huh?

A quiet knock at the door startles you. "Hello? It's... your mission partner. We need to talk." His muffled voice holds a note of concern that gives you pause.

"I don't want to hear your voice right now." If it were just you, Chris wouldn't have been disappointed. You wouldn't have failed him.

"I have plans. We can still get Wesker," he insists with determination in his voice. His tone gets you thinking. Maybe there's still a chance to prove to Chris that you know what you're doing.

After toweling off and changing into a random pair of shorts and a tank top you find in your closet, you brace yourself to face whatever awaits on the other side of that door. You grasp the door handle and try twisting it, but something blocks it.

"Hey," you call out. "I can't—"

"I know," he says suddenly. "I... don't want you to see me."

"You were the guy who followed me into the base," you say, the realization hitting you. "Who... are you?"

You hear a sound against the door, and the door handle tilts to the side, but the door doesn't open. You suspect he's let go of it, trusting you enough not to open it.

"Sit down with me," he says. You sit down with your back against the door, knees drawn up protectively over your chest.

"Who are you?" you repeat.

A weary sigh comes from the other side of the door. "Let's just say... we have a shared past with the man you're after. A past I've been trying to make right."

You offer calmly, "You don't have to face this alone. If we're honest with each other, maybe we stand a better chance of stopping him."

A long silence stretches before he replies. "Alright. No more secrets between us. I'll answer any questions honestly... if you promise to work with me as a team from here on out."

"Deal," you reply. "So, who are you?"

"A friend," he says with a smile in his voice. "But you can call me Condor."

"Really?" you deadpan. "You can't tell me any more than that?"

"Not yet, sweetheart. You'll have to wait a little longer for that."

As night falls, you decide to do some reconnaissance of the nearby training area. Moving quietly through the shadows, you spot a lone figure practicing maneuvers under the moonlight. You see the mask and know it's Condor (what kind of name even is that?).

At first, you take him for keeping his skills sharp. But as you watch closer, you begin to note subtle details. The graceful yet powerful way he flows from one form to the next, mixing kicks and strikes with fluid precision.

You had worked with agents from BSAA for over two years, and yet no one you'd trained with had this precise style. No one displayed this. It's a style you know well, one you have analyzed endlessly trying to gain any advantage in your mission together. A style belonging to only one agent you had ever seen move with such skill and poise.

His style looks like Leon's. His name sparks something inside you. Watching him just reminds you of heartache—of the months following Spain, searching endlessly for someone who didn't want you to find him, of erasing it from your mind, steeling against memories of him.

He doesn't see you observing from the treeline as he runs through an attack sequence on a training dummy, perfectly focused. But you see every telltale motion, recognizing the techniques you had practiced and perfected as partners long ago.

You continue to watch silently, taking in the bittersweet memories his fighting evokes. It couldn't be Leon, though. You had pulled up his file mere weeks ago, and the database had marked him as MIA. Maybe…

You shake your head and turn away, pressing your back and hands to the concrete wall that separates you. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths, and you feel sweat trickle from your forehead.

It's not Leon. You're imagining things. Anyone could learn such elegant moves like his. There's no chance it's Leon. Don't get your hopes up. You'll just be crushed again. You're not stupid.

Curiosity gets the better of you, as it always does. While he continues training, you stealthily make your way to the armory. Flicking on the lights, you scan the row of lockers until you find the one labeled only with a number—his designation, it seems. Taking a steadying breath, you input the code and swing the door open.

At first glance, his arsenal looks standard issue—a selection of handguns and knives arranged with military precision. But you look closer and notice subtle modifications.

Most oddly, you recognize most of this gear. Old and worn with time, but still vaguely familiar. You brush it off as having seen them in the weaponry store Chris had taken you to when you were a freshly minted agent.

Extra notches filed into certain knife handles. Markings you had seen countless times before, wielded with deadly accuracy and calm focus under pressure. But this could all be from one big brand that created everything, custom-made.

You pick up a knife and run your thumb over the distinct patterns worn smooth from years of use. A memory surfaces of your first lesson with knives, Leon's hands over yours. The thought hurts, so you push it away.

As you throw the weapon back, your eyes fall on dog tags hanging from a hook on the back of the locker. Steeling yourself, you reach out a hand to grasp them when a voice stops you.

"Going through my stuff, huh?" A chuckle escapes him, and you glance at Condor, cheeks burning. "When I said we'd be honest, that didn't mean you could go through my stuff."

"I was just—routine check," you fumble.

"I did my own check yesterday." He crosses to you in long strides, slamming the locker door shut. His hand is still firmly planted on the metal as he leans closer. "You can't lie to me. What were you really doing?"

You purse your lips and try your best not to shiver under his gaze. His eyes wander over your face, a cursory glance that stops at your lips.

"I suppose I should be asking you why you still have that stupid mask on," you retort. The curved, ivory edges of his masquerade mask seem to shine in the dim light, seemingly freshly cleaned.

He coughs and steps back, bringing his hand to cover his mouth subtly.

 "Don't let me catch you going through my locker," he says, half-joking and fully ignoring your question. You nod quickly, not thinking too hard about it, and notice the wet patch staining his combat shirt. He follows your gaze and turns slightly to hide it from you.

"Did you... get hurt?" you ask, slightly curious.

"I'm fine, it's nothing," he says quickly.

"It'll get infected," you reply, your voice a bit louder. "Let me treat it."

"I'll get a nurse to do it," he says, stepping back.

"The nurses aren't on night duty. It's just me and you," you say defiantly, stepping forward. His mouth parts slightly, face flushed, eyes wild through their mask, and he glances to the side as if someone's watching him.

"You won't—"

"No, you won't be going anywhere until I've seen to that wound," you insist, already rummaging through the nearby medkit propped up against the bench.

He starts to protest, but you level him with a stern look. "No arguments. Now sit before you lose any more blood." Reluctantly, Condor begins to peel off his bloody shirt, revealing a long gash that runs from the base of his forearm to his wrist. A flush rises in your cheeks at his bare torso on display, muscles gleaming with a sheen of exertion.

Another reason it's not Leon—Leon wasn't that comfortable with you.

If he notices your reaction, he gives no sign, focusing on the injury. But you see a hint of pink tinting his ears as he sits bare-chested before you, awaiting treatment.

Averting your eyes to the task at hand, you get to work cleaning and dressing the gash with steadier hands than you feel. Your eyes wander over his familiar yet unplaceable scars. One high on his left shoulder draws you in, a long pale line raising questions.

It tugs at something in your memory, just out of reach. You trace the scar gently, trying to place its significance. Your companion tenses at your touch, watching you intently.

"Does this wound mean something to you?" you ask cautiously. He frowns.

"It's a reminder that I'm never safe."

"Wow, uh, okay." At a loss for words, you finish dressing his gash in a bandage and order him to sleep. You watch him stalk off, raising his hand in a goodbye gesture without looking back. You also see him wince at the effort before cradling his arm and scurrying away.

<><><><>

The next day, at the dusk briefing for the mission, you lean back in your chair and sip from a cup of steaming coffee, courtesy of Helena. You sit together and watch Rebecca, Chris, and Piers argue over something on the map.

"You'll kill them if you send them there," Rebecca protests. "Just skip that sector and move to the next one. There's nothing there!"

"We're missing the intel on Irving's future plans. We used to have Sheva stationed there, but we pulled her back to train troops for the scaled invasion," Piers retorts. "Without that information, we're all going to be killed."

"Besides, I have faith in them." His eyes find you. You can't muster the courage to meet his gaze. "I'm sure they can handle it."

Condor enters the briefing room with his arm in a sling. You wince at the splatters of blood streaking across the patchy white material. Obviously, whoever treated his arm was not thinking clearly. He wears a face mask, one of the blue sterile ones. Believe it or not, it does a good job of hiding his face.

Chris stands at the head of the table, maps and reports scattered across the surface.

"Glad you could join us, Captain, even in your state," Chris says. "I know you're itching to get back in the field. Well, I may have a mission that will suit your skills and let you prove to me that you can be trusted to succeed in a mission that should be as..."

"Easy as cake?" Condor offers, a small grin quirking his lips.

"Exactly." Chris's expression mirrors his. At least he's not yelling at anyone.

"Let's get to it," Rebecca interrupts, raising an eyebrow at you. You can hear her silent question—what's going on?

You shrug as Condor takes a seat next to Helena and leans in. You do the same, eager to hear the details. Piers launches into an explanation. "Our troops had to evacuate sector five off the east, but they left valuable information behind. If this were to fall into enemy hands, we would be done for. Not to mention that without it, our whole mission would have to be rethought."

"A small strike team going undercover at night is our best bet." Chris nods to Condor. "You up for a reconnaissance mission, Captain?"

Condor nods, though he holds his injured arm gingerly. "Just say the word, Commander. I'll have our best men ready to move out at your order."

"Good man. Get some rest, and I want you geared up and prepped to leave at 2200 hours." You all stand. "Dismissed."

As you prepare to leave, Condor lingers. He looks up at Chris from his seated position. "I won't let this injury slow us down, sir. We'll get you the intel you need."

"Maybe," Chris says with a half-smile. "Don't get injured training by yourself in the first place." He nods to you with a genuine smile before turning and leaving.

<><><><>

The cover of night provides just the cloak you need as Condor's strike team moves stealthily through the forest. You follow close behind him, determined not to let his injury sideline your efforts. As his mission partner, you’ve vouched to replace the squad medic, Nathan, who will stay behind to watch over the injured soldiers that arrived from sector seven.

You creep toward the enemy encampment, relying on night vision goggles to pick out defenses and patrol routes. Condor signals a halt, then motions for you to join him.

"Take a look," he whispers, handing you the goggles. His uninjured shoulder presses against yours as you peer through and count at least three dozen hostiles milling about. They all seem to be guarding the warehouse where Chris says you would find the information. After surveying the perimeter, you pass the goggles back with your assessment. "We need to map their positions and strengths before heading in."

Condor nods. "You heard the woman. Fan out and record all details. Move fast but stealthy—we can't be spotted. Radio check-ins every 15 minutes."

The squad disperses on your assignments. You realize that you don't know any of them—not even their names, and promise yourself to ask after they return. You hang back with Condor, insisting on keeping his injury immobilized. "Don't overexert that arm," you warn softly.

He flashes a grin. "No promises, but I'll try for you, Doc."

Your heart skips. Then shouts arise almost out of thin air, and enemy fire lights the night as your team engages. You drag Condor into cover. "Time to pull out. Mission's blown. Have they got—"

"We're clear to leave, but they've gotten themselves into a bit of a problem. Turn on your radio," Condor urges.

You do as he says and almost immediately are met with gunfire and the sounds of panicked soldiers.

"I repeat, Captain, we need backup!" A woman's voice comes through only to end in a scream. The radio fades to static.

"Don't assume the worst." Condor stands up, helping you to your feet. "Let's get over there. We've got this."

<><><><>

You definitely don’t got this, you think barely a few minutes later, surrounded by seemingly never-ending hordes of zombies. It's been a while since you've seen those rotting, decaying corpses stumble toward you, but the memory of dispatching them has never been clearer.

"Leon, behind you!" you shout.

"I see them," Condor insists, plunging his knife into an attacker's throat before whirling to face the next. "Watch your six; there's more coming!"

"I've got it covered," you pant, gunning down two more enemies with practiced precision. "How many are left?"

"Too many," Condor growls through clenched teeth, blood dripping down his face from a fresh wound.

"Shit, you're hurt!" you cry out in alarm.

"It's nothing," he retorts. "Focus on staying alive—we'll worry about this later."

Your backs meet in the midst of the fray, fighting off assailants on all sides as if you’re two parts of a well-oiled machine.

"Behind you!" you warn, just a split second before it senses you.

He spins and fires without looking. You feel Condor's guard shift in turn to cover your exposure. "Thanks for the heads up."

"You're welcome," you say between shots. The crowd seems to be getting smaller, but you’re not going to say anything about it yet. "How's the shoulder holding up?"

"It's fine," Condor grinds out through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, you realize that even with dwindling enemies, your rhythm is thrown off by his compromised mobility. Condor struggles to keep up, taking more hits than usual as you fight harder to cover for him.

"We need to fall back," you say urgently, grabbing his uninjured arm. "We can make it back. The others already escaped."

"Not until they're all down!" Of course, he refuses to retreat, stubbornly fighting through the haze of pain. But his sluggish reflexes keep putting you both at greater risk.

When the last of the zombies' bodies litter the ground, the grim smile is evident in his voice, if not his expression. "Think that's the last of them?"

"I hope so." You scan the mounds of decaying flesh, gun at the ready. "Condor, you're looking a little pale..."

He opens his mouth to protest, but instead his eyes roll back. He starts to crumple to the ground before you manage to catch him in your arms.

"Shit, no!" You ease him to the ground, gripping his sides in panic. Blood pulses thickly between your fingers from the wound at his shoulder. "Don't do this to me, stay with me!"

Condor's eyelids flicker open, his gaze finding yours with effort. "Hey... get out of here. Before more come."

"I'm not leaving you," you say fiercely through tears. A weak smile touches his lips. You rip fabric from your shirt to bind a makeshift dressing, tears mingling with the blood on your cheeks. "Why'd you have to play the hero, huh? You couldn't dodge one lousy hit?"

"Had to... keep you... safe."

"Well congratulations, genius, now we're both screwed." Your breath hitches on a sob. "Just hold on, damn it! You're not dying on me, do you hear?"

Condor's hand finds yours, grip tightening with determination. "Not... going anywhere. Promise."

You press your finger to his lips, trying to draw strength from the lingering warmth of his body against your legs. But you know that out in the open, he won't last long without medical help. You have to get to shelter, and fast.

"We never got to learn... to dance," he says quietly. You bring your attention back to him.

"What?"

"Spain... you and I... you knew," he says with a small grin. "You knew... it was me." He gasps for air, and you shake your head.

"I did," you say softly. "I knew it was you, Leon."

You see the flash of his teeth in a quick smile before it vanishes, and a strangled moan escapes Leon's lips. "Just hold on, damn it! You're not dying on me, do you hear? You don't get to leave me twice in a lifetime!"

"Wish... I was... with you," he says quietly. A gentle smile tugs at his lips. "Always... knew you... cared..." His eyes slide shut as consciousness flees from his body.

The heavy thrum of approaching rotor blades cuts through your panic like a knife. You lurch your head to the sky, the sun blinding you, desperation fueling your exhausted limbs into one final sprint.

Waving your arms, you stumble directly into the landing chopper's spotlight, shielding your eyes against the blinding glare. Two medics leap out, bearing a stretcher between them.

"Please, help him!" you scream over the deafening noise, dragging Leon's limp form the last few feet. Your fingers cling to his jacket even as the medics pull him away, wanting nothing more than to keep contact.

For a second, you let yourself think that he'll be alright, then they whisk Leon aboard and settle him behind shatterproof glass, disappearing behind a tangle of cables and medical equipment as the chopper shoots skyward. You take an automatic step to follow—only to smash into an invisible barrier, your bloody hands leaving pale prints on the reinforced hull.

You see Leon's silhouetted form lost amid the bustle of medics working frantically to stabilize his critical injuries. Your shouts are drowned out by the thrumming engines. All you can do is watch helplessly through the frosted barrier, pounding your fists bloody against the unyielding glass.

A kind-eyed paramedic finally takes your elbow gently but firmly, guiding you away as an IV needle slides into your battered arm. You sag against the hull in reluctant exhaustion, unwilling to take your blurry gaze off Leon even as he starts to swim before your eyes.

The medic presses an oxygen mask to your pale face, assessing your injuries with a worried frown. You lazily recognize the face as Nathan's. But all you can really focus on through the haze is Leon’s still frame across from you, bathed in shimmering halos of light from above.

Your bloody fingerprints streak down like tears as you curl onto the cold steel floor, fingers clawing compulsively at the transparent wall between you. All the anger, fear, and desperate longing to bridge that gap come pouring out in a broken sob you can’t hold back any longer.

Through the pane, Leon remains ominously still—the rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he’s still alive. Nathan's hushed whispers are the only reason you feel safe enough to let darkness consume you. You let your eyes close.

<><><><>

It seems like the next second, you open them. Gasping for air, you clutch the arm in front of you.

"Ow..." Rebecca recoils, a grin on her face as she shakes her arm. "Well, I was going to discharge you, but it seems like your murderous thoughts have other plans."

"Never mind that," you reply impatiently. "What about Leon? Is he alright?"

"You knew?" she asks, eyes wide with surprise.

"I'm not as oblivious as you think," you retort. "Now please, tell me how he's doing."

"His shoulder was bothering him a few weeks back," she explains. "I managed to keep him resting it. But it seems fighting like that reopened the injury."

"Weeks?!" you exclaim in frustration. "Why am I only finding out about this now?"

"I thought you were already aware..." Rebecca glances down regretfully. "He was admitted about a week after you."

"So for three years, he's pretended not to know me." The fear for Leon's safety swiftly transforms into an unquenchable fury. How could he deceive you for so long?

"Calm down, he can explain himself," Rebecca says soothingly. "Let's get you to his room so the two of you can talk."

Her words do little to quench your simmering anger, but you nod curtly anyway.

"Lead the way," you say tersely to Rebecca. She gives you a worried look but compiles, guiding you out of the patient room and into the hallway.

You walk in strained silence for a few moments. Your thoughts swirl with questions and suspicions. After six long years apart, Leon owes you the truth. Why did he lie about being here? Why didn't he tell you?

"So how have things been around here?" you ask, your tone hardening on the last word as you shoot Rebecca a sidelong glance. "Is there something else that you've been hiding from me?"

She purses her lips, hesitating before answering. "There's no use taking it out on me. I should have told you sooner, I know. But Leon... there were reasons, I'm sure."

"What possible reason could justify this?" you scoff. "Unless the truth is even worse."

Rebecca opens her mouth to reply but is cut off by a shout up ahead.

"Hey Doc, think you can speed it up a bit? I think I'm dying over here."

Your head snaps forward at the familiar voice. Leon. After everything, you'd know that voice anywhere. A fresh wave of anger and hurt rises in your chest. It's time for answers.

"We're almost there," Rebecca calls back uneasily. "Leon, you have a visitor."

You quicken your pace, bursting through the door with Rebecca close behind.

Leon is propped up in bed, eyes closed as he massages his forehead in apparent frustration. "Tell them to fuck off. I don't want to see anyone right now."

"Leon Kennedy, you open your eyes right this instant," you say sternly, hands on your hips.

At the sound of your voice, his eyelids fly open in shock. "What are you—Why are you up—"

"Save it." You hold up a hand, your ice-cold glare stopping his question dead. "We need to have a long overdue talk. Alone."

Rebecca smiles apologetically at Leon. "I'll leave you two to sort this out. Call if you need anything." With that, she slips quietly from the room.

An uncomfortable silence falls as you and Leon size each other up. You've dreamed of this reunion for years, yet now only outrage remains. He fidgets under your burning stare, opening his mouth hesitantly.

"Look, I know you must have a lot of—"

"Questions? Accusations? You bet your ass I do." You pull up a chair and lean in close, lowering your voice to a furious whisper. "Start. Talking."

Leon sighs wearily, running a hand through his cropped hair. "I'm really not up for this right now. My shoulder is killing me and I just wanna get some rest."

A noise of indignant disbelief escapes you. "Too bad! You don't get to leave me for three years and then play the injured card."

"I never meant to hurt you," he insists, frustration evident in his tense features.

"Bullshit! You lied straight to my face." Your voice rises as your temper flares further. "Was our friendship some big joke to you?"

Struggling to sit up taller, Leon grits his teeth against the pain. "Of course not, you know that's not true. But I had my reasons, okay?"

"What possible reason—"

"I was trying to protect you!" he seethes, immediately recoiling as his shoulder flares up painfully.

You open your mouth to respond, but Rebecca must've already heard the commotion because she immediately rushes in with a syringe at the ready. "Alright, that's enough, you two. Leon, take it easy before you tear your stitches."

He relents with a weary sigh, allowing Rebecca to administer a sedative. Within moments, the tension seeps from his body as sleep claims him once more.

You slump back in your chair, fists clenched in your lap, overflowing with questions that will have to wait. Leon's deception cuts deep—but seeing him injured stirs regret along with your lingering anger.

"Okay, he's in stable condition," Rebecca says with a huff, stepping back and dusting her hands. Her eyes flit to you. "But he won't be much longer, by the look on your face."

You don’t want to admit it, and you definitely don’t say it out loud, but he’s gotten more attractive over the years. I mean, he was good-looking to begin with, but he aged well—taller, with darker hair and eyes, but you still recognize them with the same challenging look in them, daring you to speak out against him.

You clench your fingers together, watching the blood drain from them. "Leon… fucking Condor. You thought you were slick with that name? I'm going to fucking—"

"Come over here and talk it out?" Chris says from the doorway. He leans against the frame, a questioning look on his face as you approach, closing the door behind you. "Alright, so what's got you so worked up?"

"I won't work with Leon," you declare, arms crossed.

"So you know. Who told you?"

"Why does it matter when you hid it from me?" you retort. "I'm not working with him."

"You already have, but whatever," Chris says with a shrug. "We didn't know how to tell you, given how you react whenever he's on TV."

"That was once," you protest. "Jesus, you still haven't let that go."

Chris chuckles and shakes his head. "You acted like he was really there." A wistful look crosses his face. "Ah, I should've recorded that."

"Take him off the team," you insist. "You need me. Besides, you saw how the mission failed when he was there with me."

"That was partly your fault. And the second mission went perfectly fine. True, we might need you," Piers agrees. "But we definitely need him."

"No, you don't!" you protest. "All he does is 'protect' you when you don't need it and then ghost you for six years. And then work in your agency for three years that you only joined to spite him in the first place."

"We can still hear you," Rebecca calls from around the wall.

"Shut up!" you say, louder than you want to. Then you say to them in a quieter voice, "Look, I just can't work with him. Every time I see him... all I can think is..."

"Woah, calm down, I don't need the details," Chris says, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You flush and swat at him.

"It's not like that! You're insufferable," you say exasperatedly.

"The admins need you to work with him," Piers says suddenly. "Wesker hasn't recovered from you destroying his image, and if anything, your actions have caused him to stray further from the media's presence. In order to get our team back, you need to get everyone to take the bait."

"You have to be kidding me," you grumble, running a hand through your hair. "There's no way I can act friendly toward that guy."

Chris sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, I know you two have... history. But orders are orders. This mission requires the full cooperation of our team."

"Yeah, easy for you to say," you retort. "Leon didn't ghost you for six years."

Piers chimes in, "I know it's not ideal. But staying committed to the plan is crucial. The fate of our organization depends on it. We've come too far to let personal issues get in the way."

"Be friendly or they're firing you," Chris interrupts. "You have to fool Wesker, therefore the world, into believing that you're friends with him. It's really not that hard. If the target finds out you aren't friends with him, things could go wrong."

"Then get Helena to do it; I don't fucking care!"

"I'll be visiting inside, thanks," Helena says, appearing around the corner. She opens the door and steps inside, leaving it slightly open.

"Just give the man a goddamn chance, would you?" Chris sighs, a troubled sound that makes him sound far older than he really is. "You're always so quick to judge."

"Who else is on the team?" you ask, deflecting the subject.

"Well, we're supposed to have Sherry Birkin and Jake Muller. But right now, it's just us," he says, gesturing to himself and Piers, "and then, of course, Leon and Helena."

"So we're missing, what, a fourth of the team? That's not too much. We can manage without him." You roll your eyes and avert the subject again. "So about my group..."

"You're being grouped with Leon," Chris says flatly. "We argued about this for three months and we decided that Helena's only here for backup, in case something goes wrong."

"Three months? You've known about this for three months?" you sputter, stepping back.

"Wait, why can't I be backup?" you protest.

"Because you know Leon better," he says simply.

"I used to think that too," you say sweetly. "But obviously, we were both wrong."

"We were watching you while he had the mask on—"

"Whose idea was that?" They stare at you. "The mask, I mean."

"That was this guy," Chris says, gesturing to Piers, who flushes.

"It was part Leon's idea too!" he protests. "Besides, we knew you would recognize your partner any day now."

"So you're both in on this, huh?"

"You can say whatever you want, but the moment you're back in Wesker's estate, you better act like the sun shines out of his ass," Chris warns.

You frown. "Isn't that from—"

"Don't patronize me! Now, are you on the team or not?" Chris asks. There's an expectant look in his eyes. Your gut tells you to do one thing, but the agency expects something else from you.

You let your shoulders slump, catching a glimpse of Leon's darkened blond hair from the sliver in the doorway. You shake your head. "Fine then, put me on the team."

"That's what I like to hear," Chris says, beaming, all traces of his bad mood gone.

"So... now what?"

"Now, we wait for tomorrow. You might want to get some rest. You need to look nice for tomorrow." When you tilt your head questioningly, he smiles mysteriously and heads back into the room with Piers.

The door closes agonizingly slowly, and you catch a bit of Leon and Helena's conversation.

"Heard you got grouped with my favorite rival. Trying to steal my spotlight again?" Leon manages, coughing afterwards.

Helena huffs in amusement. "In your dreams, pretty boy. We all know who the real star is around here."

"Of course I do, sweetheart."

Pretty boy? Sweetheart? Since when are they so close?

You shake your head, not wanting to look at Leon any more than necessary, and you certainly don’t want to talk to Helena. You make the decision to head back to your room. You take the elevator up, walk to your door, and unlock it, stumbling inside.

The bedroom door's open, so you shut the window to block out the moon rays. You lay on your bed, resting your head on your pillow, and try to sleep. When you wake up again, the moon has moved further down its path to the horizon, not quite reaching it yet.

Still half-asleep, you pull open your drawers and grab your glasses, wanting to catch up on the announcements you must've missed. The first thing you do is call Rebecca, hoping talking to her might ease your conflicted feelings.

"No way, you called me back!" Rebecca dramatically gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. "I think I'll have a heart attack!"

"Save it," you grumble.

“What's got you so depressed?” Rebecca asks, her voice tinny over your phone’s speaker. On the screen, her brown hair is down, smooth and tame, and she’s poking at one of her dozens of window plants, vibrant shades of crimson and navy.

"The whole mission's going to be shitty." You groan. "Honestly, I don't know what they were thinking, putting us together. I hate his guts."

"I don't think you do," Rebecca replies thoughtfully with a smile. "For someone you hate, you sure do talk about him a lot. And I’m pretty sure you knew about his identity from the beginning, didn’t you?"

"That's only because he's a prick—I would know that from anywhere—and everyone needs to know that," you say dismissively.

"Well," Rebecca giggles, "I think he's quite charming."

"Great," you deadpan. "You can have your happily ever after with him."

"Actually, I meant for you," she says.

"You're exactly like Chris."

"Ew." She makes a face, and you start to laugh, but you cut off when you hear rustling from the entrance. You cover the speaker and peer out of the door frame.

Quiet footsteps approach. You step out of the bedroom. A light flicks on in the hallway, and the person who stumbles into the kitchen is Leon.

"Wait, is that—" you disconnect the call and shove your phone into a pocket. He’s rumpled and half-awake, shoulders slumping as he yawns. He stands in front of you wearing a light blue hospital gown. His hair is a mess. His feet are bare.

Leon freezes when his gaze falls on you. You stare back at him. He suddenly stands up straight, but his face is still bleary and confused.

"Hello," he says, his voice hoarse. "Sorry. I was just... Häagen-Dazs."

He gestures vaguely toward the refrigerator, as if the name somehow explains his odd behavior.

"What?" you respond, bewildered.

He crosses to the freezer and grabs a small box of individually packed ice cream, showing you the Häagen-Dazs logo printed across the front. "I was out. Knew they'd stocked you up."

"Did you—do you raid everyone's kitchens?" you ask accusingly.

"Only when I can't sleep," Leon replies. "Which is always. Didn't think you'd be awake." He looks at you, deferring, and you realize he's waiting for permission to open the box and take one.

"No," you say firmly.

"Why not?" Leon whines, a sound you’ve never heard from him before. It's oddly satisfying for him to push back against your refusal, but after all these years, conversing with him feels like a foreign practice.

You shrug and roll your eyes, and his face lights up as he grabs the box anyway.

"Have you practiced what you'll say tomorrow?" he asks suddenly.

"Yes," you reply, bristling immediately. "You're not the only professional around here."

"I didn't mean—" Leon falters. "I only meant, do you think we should, uh, I don’t know, rehearse?"

"Do you need to?" you retort.

"I thought it might help." Of course he thinks that—he's probably been around the world, mingling with all kinds of people. He’s never thought you could handle yourself, and it seems he still hasn't changed.

You walk toward him, unlocking your phone. "Watch this."

You line up a shot of the Häagen-Dazs box on the counter, Leon's hand next to it, and the side of your face as he glances up, confused. You open Instagram and add a filter.

"'Nothing like,'" you narrate flatly as you type a caption, "'midnight ice cream with my new partner.' Posted." You hold the phone out for him to see. "There's a lot of things worth overthinking, believe me. But this isn't one of them."

Leon frowns at you over his ice cream, looking doubtful. "Does this mean we're okay?"

"Oh, no," you say, a sappy smile on your face. "We'll never be okay. What you did was unforgivable." Dramatic, but it works.

"Well, uh, thanks." His eyes meet yours, and his icy blue eyes are full of emotion, glazed like they're brimming with tears.

"For what?" you say, your voice softer than expected.

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, lips pursing. "For the ice cream," he mumbles quietly. It's a goddamn box of ice cream; just take it.

"It's fine. Now, are you done?" you ask. "I was on a call."

Leon blinks, then folds his arms over his chest, back on the defensive. "Of course. I won’t keep you." As he leaves the kitchen, he pauses in the doorway, considering, leaning against the wood.

"I didn’t know you wore glasses," he says finally.

He leaves you standing there alone in the kitchen, the box of chocolate-swirl ice cream sweating on the counter, and the faint wish that he had thanked you for something else.

<><><><>

The drive to the interview is hot and stuffy, and it probably didn’t help that the driver refused to put down the windows and that you were seated right next to Leon, your legs almost brushing.

In the room, stylists twist Leon's hair into elaborate patterns that fall over his eyes, casting shadows over his pale blue irises. He gives you a crooked smile with the side of his face as a makeup artist dabs his cheekbones with powder.

Leon’s wearing a sweater that matches yours, except unlike you, he looks like he’s attending a private school in England over the summer, spending his days playing polo and betting on horse racing.

You don't understand why Leon needs makeup. He already looks fine, but you suppose "fine" won't suffice for the rest of the world—or Wesker. You realize you’re glaring at him and quickly look away.

"Alright, let's go over this," Helena says quietly, crouching near the edge of the couch you're sitting on. "You need to make it seem like you've been close friends with him, kept in touch for a long time."

"Got it," you say, slightly bitter. "Why couldn't you do this?"

"Because I didn't want to."

"And you thought I did?"

"It doesn't matter what you want," Helena says, but a small smile has crept onto her face. She shakes her head and glances up at you, eyes flitting to the complex camera system. "Do what you need to. Remember what's at stake here."

You nod, and she stands, dusting herself off before walking away. Someone shoos all of Leon's artists away, sending them scrambling like a school of fish. A voice counts down, and you glance at the preppy interviewer sitting near you, smiling eerily.

"So, you two, you look cozy over there," she says, waggling her eyebrows in a way that makes you want to throw up. "Let's hear a bit about yourselves before getting to the main questions, huh?" She turns to you, wide eyes boring into you.

"Uh, hello?" you begin unsteadily, introducing yourself. "I've been working as a government agent for around five years, skilled in combat and medical fields, and have been..." You falter here.

"We've been friends for a long time," Leon finishes for you. "Contrary to what happened at the gala, we're very close, and what occurred was just a misunderstanding." He smiles warmly at the camera, and the interviewer's own smile only grows.

"So, you've been friends since the Raccoon City Incident of 1998, yes?" she asks, directing her pen toward both of you.

"Uh..." Leon's eyes cut to you.

"Yes," you say for him. "It's almost like we've known each other for our entire lives."

"Mhm, yup," Leon affirms, like the easier thing for him to do is lie with a sweet smile on his face, the smile you know sends your knees buckling and stomach fluttering.

"Now, here's the biggest question on everyone's mind," she says, leaning forward in her seat. "Two special agents working together to serve the government. It sounds like a romance novel!" She giggles.

"I'm... sorry?" Leon tilts his head, and by the confused look in his eyes, you see he doesn't understand the full length of what the woman said.

"I understand what you're implying," you begin.

"What, wait, you do?" Leon turns to you, raising an eyebrow. "What does she mean?"

"Go ahead. Tell him what I mean," she says, eyelashes fluttering. She waves the camera over, and you feel the gazes of multiple people on you.

It's Leon. He'll laugh at the implication and wave it off. He's your Leon. The one you know. You can trust him.

"She, along with the rest of whoever 'everyone' is, thinks we're dating." The room holds its breath, Leon's expression unchanging. Then he smiles.

"Are we?"

"No, stupid."

"Women," he says, scoffing and turning to look the other way. The camera zooms in on his face, and you can see a smile creep onto the side of his lips.

"Leon has very readable emotions," you say, immediately getting his attention. He snaps back to you, eyes meeting yours in a challenging glare. You sit forward, and he copies your movements, his glare cast downward as yours is cast upward. Your faces are so close that your noses could be touching.

"My partner has visible reactions to everything I do. I guess I'm just too handsome for her to leave alone," he says smugly, a smirk curving his lips.

"Fuck off, you self-absorbed prick."

Leon leans forward. "Are we giving them something to talk about?"

You meet his gaze without flinching. "No."

Leon smiles strangely. "Your reaction says otherwise."

Your temper flashes. "Don't flatter yourself. I couldn't care less what people think. What even were we?"

"You know what we are," Leon says, meeting your gaze. His eyes, however much they've darkened over the years, are still his, full of emotion. There's something different now, though. There's something guarding them, some kind of emotional barrier to keep from showing too much.

"I used to think I did," you say. "But I don't think I do anymore."

"Why are you acting like this?" Leon asks, his voice suddenly angry.

"Like what?" you retort defensively.

"Like it's my fault this happened!" Leon says. "Did you honestly think I was gonna come meet you right after risking my life multiple times to save you and Ashley? Not everything is about you! I have people to meet, duties to fulfill, and places to be!"

"Your life doesn't have to be about me!" you protest. "All I wanted was to know that you were at least alive!"

"Maybe I should've," Leon says, sounding genuinely guilty. "Maybe I should've called you once, and then let the government kill you? Is that what you wanted?"

"Government... kill me?" You pull backward. "Why would they—"

"They threatened to find you if I didn't leave you the day we got back to the US. They thought I would tell you government secrets and they would get leaked." Leon crosses his arms and tries his best to look away from you.

"But... I don't understand," you say, raising an eyebrow. "Don't they know that you always put your work first?"

"I usually do," Leon agrees. "But... Ashley might’ve gone to ask if you could be added to her team."

"Team... like, security?" you ask. "Of course they said no! What was that girl on?"

"Actually," Leon says sheepishly, "they said yes. They figured if you survived through all that with no training, you must have raw talent. They liked that."

"So... why was I not with you and Ashley for these past six years?" you ask accusingly. Leon's eyes darken.

"Because I refused," Leon admits. "I didn't let them get to you. I told them you would be too big of a burden and that I'd take all the responsibility to keep you safe." Leon pauses as he runs a hand through his hair. "Because..." He trails off. "Look, I made a mistake. I know I should have called you after those six years. But I thought that you understood why I had to do what I did. I was protecting us."

"I don't need to be fucking protected by you, Leon," you growl. "Seriously, you thought I couldn't handle myself? That I need a big strong man to follow me everywhere because I'm too weak to protect myself? Jesus fuck, I'm not Ashley!"

"You're not Ashley," Leon acknowledges, anger in his voice as he flushes. "But you would've gotten yourself killed without me in Spain, watching your back!"

"You would've died from a blood infection if I wasn't there," you retort, crossing your arms. "You wouldn't have lasted a day without me."

"Why couldn't you trust me? I knew you would survive. You just had to wait. Why couldn't you wait longer?"

"I waited six fucking years, Leon," you say, tears stinging your eyes. "How much longer did you want me to wait?"

"I don't know." Leon mumbles. "Maybe two weeks. Maybe a decade. How am I supposed to know? They don't fucking tell me anything." His feet shuffle on the floor.

"A decade?" you laugh dryly. "We're getting pretty damn close to that milestone, aren't we?"

Leon’s eyes flash dangerously. “You know it isn't that simple.”

“It was for me,” you retort. "I grew to depend on you, and you left."

Leon leans in closer, voice dropping to a fierce whisper. “If you thought I would do anything other than that, you’re more naive than I thought. You have no idea what was really at stake.”

You match his tone, eyes glittering. “Enlighten me then. Go on, tell me where you really were.”

Leon recoils slightly but quickly masks it. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Coward,” you spit.

“Watch yourself, rookie. You’re treading on thin ice.”

You lift your chin defiantly. “Or what, Leon? You’ll leave me again?”

A muscle ticks in his jaw. Finally, he straightens, avoiding your eyes. You regain notice of the cameraman, peeking out from behind his set, mouth slightly open. “We’re not having this conversation here.”

"Cut the cameras," the interviewer hisses, tracing a line along her throat. Her earlier giddiness seems to have vanished. “Actually, you know what? Cut all that out. He’ll have my head if that government shit airs.”

"No need." You grit your teeth. "I'll be taking my leave. Helena, let's go."

Your questionable friend stands up with you and walks out the door.

"Was that really the way to tell him your feelings?" You slump your head against the wall.

"I don't know how else to." Your eyes well with tears that sting. You swallow painfully past the lump in your throat and stand up straighter. "What's with you?"

"I don't follow," she says cautiously.

"The flirting. The pet names. You think I can't hear?"

"We have history. I don't like him in that way."

"Leon and I have history too," you reply coldly. "So I hope you'll understand why I'm quitting the mission."

"You can't!" she bursts. "We need you!"

"You need Leon more," you say flatly.

"I understand this is difficult for you," she soothes. "Working so closely with Leon again after… everything. It's a lot to process."

You say nothing, staring numbly at the floor.

Helena presses on gently. "If you feel you need space, we'll respect that. Your well-being is what matters most right now. We need to make this believable."

At this, your head snaps up in surprise. "You'd… let me quit?"

Helena nods. "This is about more than just the mission. It's about you finding your way forward, in your own time and way."

You think of this during the car ride back, in a separate car from Leon, and all the way to the base. And all you can remember is the anguish he caused when there were miles and miles between you, when you forgot the sound of his voice, crying for it at night.

So you might’ve taken a few drinks, waiting for someone to fetch you.

You might’ve let the alcohol get to your head.

What does it matter when you let Leon get to your head too?

Crying out helplessly, silently. Wishing for solace.

<><><><>

You storm up to your room, emotions raw. You throw open the door to see the person you just cannot stand, Leon Scott Kennedy, at your desk.

Leon looks up coolly. "Trouble knocking?"

"It's my fucking room, you..." You seethe, hands balling into fists. "You miserable piece of shit."

Leon raises an eyebrow. "To what do I owe this hostility?"

You step forward, flicking out your knife, all your emotions welling up inside you. You find the strength to slam him back against the wall and press the knife against his throat.

Leon grunts in surprise, but his eyes gleam with interest rather than fear. "I see you've come ready to play."

You press against him threateningly. "Give me one good reason not to end you here and now."

"Fuck, you've gotten good with that thing, haven't you, sweetheart?" The term stirs something inside you. His expression is suppressed, and he makes a strangled sound deep in his throat.

"You... you—" You break away from him, shivering. You collapse against the wall, your anger evaporating into a wave of despair so vast you think you might drown in it. Leon lowers himself beside you against the wall's solid support. His proximity feels both foreign yet familiar.

"I wasn't happy where I was." He lets his head lean back onto the wall, gazing up at the moonlit ceiling. "I hope you know that."

"Say I do," you begin half-heartedly. "What'll it take for you to be happy again?"

"You," he responds almost immediately. "I don't want you to be mad at me. God, you're all I need to be happy, doll."

You move closer. "What was that?" you say teasingly, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You heard me," he chastises.

"What about Helena?" you test.

"I..." He looks away sheepishly. "Let’s just say my efforts to get over you were in vain."

"Is that so, pretty boy?" Your lips quirk in a smirk as Leon sharply inhales, eyes fluttering closed.

"One more time," he says, his voice rough velvet against your ears.

"Hm?" you ask innocently. His eyes open, and when they meet yours again, stormy seas roil beneath the surface.

"Call me that one more time, and I swear I'll—"

"Make me, pretty boy. Prove you mean what you say."

Leon’s eyes burn into yours as he struggles to maintain control. He leans in close, whispering harshly, "Do you really want that?"

Your breath hitches at the intensity of his stare, your heart pounding in your chest. But you can't resist the challenge. "Go on then," you dare him, your voice barely audible. "Prove it."

Leon’s lips twitch into a grin, the tiniest hint of satisfaction lighting up his features. He pulls you closer, your bodies pressed tightly together. His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your sensitive skin.

"I don't think you understand what you're asking for, doll," he warns softly. "This isn't what you want."

You reach up to grip his wrist, using it to guide his hand lower, tracing a path down your spine toward the curve of your hip. Your eyes never leave his, the challenge still present in their depths.

"I'm not sure you'd know," you counter, your own voice low and sultry. "But I know exactly what I want."

Leon’s breath hitches, his grip on you tightening as you slide your free hand up his chest to grasp the lapel of his jacket. Panic flares in his eyes, and he pulls away, standing up afterward. You follow his movements, watching his gaze on you.

Did you go too far? You quickly reach out for him, trying to reassure him with your eyes that you didn't mean anything, but he steps back, shaking his head minutely. His breathing is labored, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Are you drunk?" he rasps, taking a few steps away from you. At your silence, he shakes his head again. "We can't do this. We shouldn't. Not while you're like this."

But even as he tries to distance himself, you can see the fire in his eyes refuses to die down.

"Why not?" you retort, mirroring his movements except forward until you're once again only a few steps away from each other. "Because you still care about me? Because I bring out feelings you'd rather bury alive? This isn't about me being drunk; this is about you being too much of a coward to admit your feelings!"

Leon clenches his jaw, his chest rising and falling rapidly with each labored breath.

"You want me to admit it?" he snarls, narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Fine! Yes, I still care about you. I even love you. But that doesn't change anything!" His fists clench at his sides.

"Then why fight it?" you whisper, feeling boldness surge within you. Your hand reaches out tentatively, tracing along the edge of his shirt where it meets his waistband.

"Because it leads nowhere good," he growls, catching your wrist before you can venture any farther. His grip is firm, but not painful.

"Maybe somewhere better," you murmur, looking up at him with wide eyes. Desire courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending with its heated touch.

"What if I hurt you?" His eyes flash with fear.

"You underestimate me, Leon," you murmur. "I'm not as breakable as you think."

"Please, don't push me," he breathes hoarsely, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "I don't know what I'll do if you keep pushing."

"Why don't you understand that you don't get to decide everything? It could be my relationship too!"

Leon’s grip on your wrist tightens as he stares into your eyes, searching for understanding or defiance.

"You don't get it, do you?" he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. "I tried to protect you before, and look where it got me! Another man could've had you!"

"And now?" you question quietly, trying to reassure him with soft strokes against his palm. His heartbeats pound beneath your fingertips, syncopated with yours.

"Now..." Leon swallows hard, looking away briefly before meeting your gaze once more. "Now... I have you. And despite everything, that scares the hell out of me."

You glance up and kiss him.

The tension crackles in the air, thick and palpable. He leans closer, his voice a low growl. "And I'm telling you, I'm the last thing you need."

Your heart pounds in your chest. "Are you suggesting someone else?" you dare to challenge him.

"Fuck no." His eyes narrow, a flicker of jealousy crossing his face. Then, in a swift movement, he pins you against the door, his hips pressing against yours. The relief you feel at his answer is quickly replaced by a surge of pure desire.

"Good," you breathe, tilting your head up to meet his. You capture his bottom lip between yours, sucking gently before nipping it with your teeth. "Because I only want you, Leon."

Your words seem to break something within him. He finally gives in, your mouths colliding in a kiss that is hot, fierce, and utterly out of control.

Need pulses through you as he grasps your backside, pulling you flush against him. Your back grazes the wall as you use it for leverage, pushing closer to his strength. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles behind him. Your nightgown rides up with the motion, but you don't care. All you can think about is the way he's kissing you, the way his mouth moves against yours, the way his tongue dances with yours.

The world narrows to this kiss, this moment, this man. He is yours. Or maybe you are his. It doesn't matter, as long as he keeps kissing you.

Heat floods your body as his mouth trails down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"God," he murmurs against your skin.

Then, you're moving. You hear a crash as your desk chair hits the floor, and the next thing you know, you're sprawled across your desk, your legs wrapped around his waist. He leans over you, his fingers tangled in your hair as he devours your mouth once more.

You kiss him back with a hunger you've never known before. Your hands reach up to brace yourself, knocking over anything and everything in your way. Time seems to stand still.

"You'll hate me in the morning," he says between kisses, his voice husky. "You don't really want this."

"Stop telling me what I want," you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair. You tilt your head, giving him better access. He takes it, his mouth moving down your neck to where it meets your shoulder.

Every touch of his mouth to your skin is like a spark igniting a flame. You gasp when he lingers on a particularly sensitive spot, taking his time.

"Unless you don't want me," you whisper, a flicker of doubt creeping in.

"Does this feel like I don't want you?" He takes your hand and guides it between your bodies. Your fingers curl around his length, feeling the evidence of his desire. You whimper, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his need. "I always fucking want you," he groans as you squeeze him. He lifts his head, his icy blue eyes locking with yours. You see the raw desire reflected in their depths, mirroring your own. "You walk into a room, and I can't look away. I get anywhere near you, and this is what happens. Fucking hell, I can barely think when you're around." He thrusts his hips into your hand, and your stomach clenches with anticipation. "My problem isn’t with wanting you."

"Then what is?" you ask, your voice trembling with desire.

"I'm trying to protect you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "From me."

He's right. You know he's right. But in that moment, you don't care. All you want is him.

"I don't need protection," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "I want you."

And with that, he takes you. He takes you hard and fast, his movements relentless, his kisses demanding. You move together, a tangle of limbs and desire, until the world around you fades away.

You cry out his name, your body arching against his. He holds you tight, his breath hot against your ear.

"I've got you, darling," he promises. "Let it out."

"Shit," you gasp, as the pleasure builds to an unbearable crescendo.

He takes you over and over, never stopping, until you are both lost in the throes of passion. All that matters is the two of you, lost in a world of your own.

Finally, he collapses on top of you, his chest heaving, his eyes filled with raw emotion. You look up at him, your heart overflowing with love and desire.

"I’ve never lost control like that," he says, bracing his weight on one arm and brushing your hair back from your face with the other. The move is so gentle, so at odds with what you’ve just experienced, that you can’t help but blink, then smile.

"I know. I've noticed." The smile morphs into a full-out grin. "Not that I’ve ever had something to lose control of before." He laughs and rolls you to his side, keeping you close and cushioning your head with his biceps. You look to your mahogany desk.

"Did I…"

"Ruin your desk?" He lifts a brow. "Yes."

"Oh." You can’t find it in you to be embarrassed, so you brush the backs of your fingers across the stubble along his jaw.

"To be fair, I was messing it up when you walked in. I also might've broken your dagger stand." He grimaces. "I’ll get you a new one."

You blink. “That was…” You didn’t even get the man’s pants entirely off, and your gown is haphazardly hanging from one shoulder.

“Frighteningly perfect.” He cups the side of your face. “We should get you cleaned up and to sleep. We can worry about… your room tomorrow. And one more thing."

You look up at him questioningly. "Yeah?”

“You really should try to be more careful."

"I am!" you exclaim. His eyes narrow. "Mostly.”

"Well, if you weren't so reckless, we wouldn't be having this conversation." He sighs. "If what you said about our agency got out, what would have happened to you?"

Your gaze drifts away from his, and you bite your lip. "I know."

"Good, because now you're going to listen to me." He leans forward until your noses touch. "No more taking chances. No more being careless. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He grins, a crooked curve of his swollen lips. "But don't worry, we'll figure something out."

"Thank you." You lean against him and rest your cheek against his chest.

"Of course, princess," he whispers back, stroking your hair.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," you say quietly.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he replies, kissing the top of your head. "We all have our moments."

"I just wish things were different sometimes," you whisper.

"Me too, baby," he responds, wrapping his arms around you tighter. "But we'll make the best of it, yeah?"

"Yeah," you say, nodding. "Thanks."

"Anything for you, princess," he mutters back, dipping his hand back between the both of you, snaking around your body.

“What are you doing?”

No response, only silence. Leon smirks, you feel it on your neck. You’ve missed that smirk, and he makes sure that you tell him.

Guess you never realize how much you miss someone until they’re gone, huh?

[cherriegyuu]

hi,

i just wanted to say that i love your works, you’re absolutely AMAZING !!

and that kind of led me to sending in my request (since i saw they’re open), because i really need to read another piece of art from you <3

is it possible for me to ask you to write something like an angst-to-fluff pregnancy imagine/drabble with wonwoo? i know that not everyone is comfortable with this topic, so feel totally free to ignore it or change it the way you want, i’ll be super ultra thankful anyways :))

once again i love your works, keep going !!

- anon

i really got carried away with this but i'm also scared... a little really hope you like it!!

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader genre:  angst, fluff word count: 1.9k warnings: none

a/n: not proofread

requests are open

With a heavy heart, you sat down in the waiting room, your eyes filled with tears. Seeing your current estate, the attendant said that it was okay if you were late, she could just make a quick shift on the schedule. You thanked her, relieved. 

You took out your phone from your purse. No missed calls or unread texts from your fiance.

You told him that you could go by yourself to the ultrasound. But Wonwoo said that he wanted to be there, that since he missed the last one he had to be there for the next one.

So you believed him and waited. 

You tried calling him fifteen minutes before you were supposed to leave the apartment. Then again when you were already late. Tried texting him many times in between but you never got an answer. So you called an Uber and left by yourself. Though you wanted to call him again, you forced yourself not to. 

Since you got pregnant you felt as if Wonwoo was slowly pushing you away and you didn't know what to do. He was working longer hours, leaving the apartment when the sun had just risen to the sky, and coming home every night almost at midnight. He’d just shower and go to bed.

On many different occasions, you asked him if everything was okay, and why he was working over hours so much. His answers were always evasive and never told you much of anything. You knew Wonwoo wasn’t cheating but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this wasn’t the lift that he wanted. That once a child was involved in the equation he wasn’t all that sure if getting married and officially starting a life together was something that he still wanted. 

You didn’t want to doubt him at all but his actions didn’t leave you with many other options but that one. 

The entrance door suddenly opened and Wonwoo rushed in. His hair was a mess on top of his head, his glasses slightly crocked over his face, and a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead. He looked around for a second before his eyes finally landed on you. He sat down by your side, his eyes wide.

“I’m sorry” he kissed your head, taking your hands in his “I’m so sorry”

You just shook your head, eyes forward, refusing to look at him. Not out of anger, but because if you did you would start crying again and had just managed to pull yourself together. You didn’t want to see the doctor while crying. Your tears were only yours, to be shed in the privacy of your home — preferably in the shower when no one could see you. 

“Please, look at me” he begged and you almost caved “I didn’t forget but I was stuck in the office, that’s why I didn't take any of your calls”

A shake of your head was still all he got. Wonwoo didn’t know what else he could say. He knew that he was in the wrong in the situation but he didn’t know what he was supposed to say or do. And he didn’t have a chance to think of anything because a nurse came out to take you to get the ultrasound.

For a second Wonwoo was scared that you wouldn’t let him inside the room with you but you never let go of his hand while walking in. 

Wonwo had missed your first ultrasound, the one both of you had considered the most special one. It was the first time you’d get to hear your baby’s heartbeat. Wonwoo hated himself for not being there, hated how all he had was the video you took on your phone to show to him. He knew that you were disappointed in him. 

“You didn’t come alone this time,” the doctor said once she walked in, a smile on her face.

Wonwoo squeezed your hand, kissing your knuckles. 

He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous but he couldn’t keep his heart at a normal rate. Maybe it was because he was going to hear his child’s heart for the first time or maybe it was because you refused to look his way, your hand completely limp on his hold. Or maybe it was just a mixture of both.

“Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” both of you said at the same time

“I don’t really like the whole gender reveal thing”

The doctor laughed, pressing the transducer to your stomach.

“If I get to say so myself, I don’t like it either” she moved her hand a little to the left, smiling again looking at the screen, lightly moving it towards you “Everything looks fine, as it should. Now, for the moment you’ve been waiting for”

Wonwoo followed you out of the clinic, his hand on your lower back guiding you to where he had parked the car.

You didn't speak to him once or even looked his away. You seemed to be lost in your mind since the moment you saw him, only ever talking with the doctor.  

He opened the passenger door for you and hurried to the other side. 

“What do you want for dinner?” he tried saying 

“I… If…” your voice shook as you tried to get the words out “If this is not something you want, marriage, being a father, I need you to tell me now. Don’t wait until the baby is born to make up your mind. Don’t be that cruel to me”

The silence in the car was deafening. Wonwoo felt as if the world had stopped moving.

The truth was having a child wasn’t a topic you talked about frequently. Yes, it was mentioned a couple of times over the years but nothing more. However, when you told him that you were pregnant, he couldn’t be happier. He felt as if his entire life was falling into place just at the right time. His job was going great, he finally got the promotion he had worked himself crazy for, you had said yes to his proposal, and you had a baby on the way. 

It was the life he imagined for himself, the life he so desperately wanted. And he wanted it all with you. So the fact that he was hurting you, even if he didn’t mean to, even if all that he was doing was so that you could have the life you also dreamed of, drove him insane. 

“I want to show you something”

You did your best to not let your tears fall. Wonwoo had been silent since you asked him to be honest with you. And it was the first time, in a very long time, that you had no idea of what his silence meant. He gripped the wheel tight enough that his knuckles turned white, his lips pressed into a thin line. It was hard to resist the urge to pull his hand into yours, to do something that would change the atmosphere between the two of you.

Yet, you forced your hands to remain on your lap while you tried to discover where he was taking you. The streets felt vaguely familiar, you knew that you had been there once before. All of it made sense when Wonwoo parked the car in front of a house you had visited a few moments before you found out that you were pregnant. 

After Wonwoo proposed, the two of you decided that instead of having a huge wedding party you wanted to get a place of your own. It felt much more important to have a home than a party. And you could still celebrate with your friends and family, just maybe in a more modest way.

In one of your conversations with Wonwoo, you told him that you wanted to live in an actual house, not in an apartment. It’s just a dream though, you told him. Still, when looking for a place, Wonwoo only took you to see houses, while you only chose apartments. 

But, of course, you had a favorite and Wonwoo knew it, even if you never said it out loud. He saw the way your eyes shone when he took you there, when you looked at the rooms, the kitchen, the small garden in the back, the old swing set. 

You watched in complete wonder as Wonwoo took a key out of his pocket and opened the gate. 

“How do you have a key to this place?”

Unlike the last time you had been there, the place seemed entirely different. It was clear the house was being renovated.

“I wanted to make a surprise but I think my idea wasn’t as great as I thought it was”

He pushed the door open. It was like you remembered but also different. The walls were no longer an ugly shade of gray but a shade of pearl. The carpet had been removed and it was finally possible to see the floor.

“Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo wrapped his arms around you from behind, his hand on your belly that was starting to grow round.

“The promotion I got at work came with a bonus, much bigger than we thought. It was more than enough to get the house we wanted”

His lips dropped feather like kisses on your shoulder, the curve of your neck, behind your ear, and on top of your head.

"I've been coming here every day before and after work, to make sure that it will be ready in a few more days. But after today…" 

You turned around in his arms, needing to look at him. 

"Wonwoo, I wanted the house, not you"

He shook his head, a smile on his lips as he pushed the hair that fell onto your forehead. 

"I wanted whatever you wanted. And I agree with you, raising a child in a house with enough space is much better than inside the apartment" he kissed you once, then twice. "There's something I want to show you"

Wonwoo took you by the hand, pulling you through the house. You only had a chance to peek at the rooms. All of them had been slightly modified.

That moment felt like a dream, the kind of thing someone doesn't actually get to live. You felt as if at any moment you'd wake up and you'd be back in bed. 

All the doors in the hall were open except for one on the right.

Taking a deep breath, Wonwoo pushed the door open and took a step aside to let in first.

Tears burned the back of your eyes, a knot pressing your throat. It was a fully furnished nursery. It was everything you ever dreamed of and then some more. The white walls, the little clouds on the ceiling. Even the furniture itself was one you had chosen. 

"How…? When…?"

"I might have snooped on your phone," he said with a laugh "We finished it just this morning. Mingyu helped with putting the furniture together and Seungkwan with the details"

At that point, tears already ran freely down your face. While Wonwoo was busy doing everything he could to get you your dream, you were worried that he might have fallen out of love with you, that he longer wanted to be with you. 

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't…"

"It's fine, I shouldn't have kept it a secret" he held your face in his hands, he had tears in his eyes too but also a beautiful smile "But this is where we start the rest of our lives. You, me, and our son"

taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @mhlsy_mlysn @feat-sun

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

[cake-n]

Why I think Klavier Gavin is Neurodivergent (either ADHD or autism or both)

First and most obvious : he's too much of a “perfectionist” on specific things but I think it's more of an issue with control it's very important for him to control his emotions, his performances and the events happening (4-1,4-3,4-4) he's freaking out if something important to him ,but not always for others ,doesn't go as perfectly planned or his routine is disturbed (this can also count as Kris's influence) as seen mostly in turnabout serenade.

I think he has a special interest in music. It's easy, it's lazy but eh it works.

He seems to experience sensory issues , referring to his “disbelief” sprite where he's covering his ears and shaking his head (can also count as a trauma response and probably is too) the sound accompanying the sprite is also an irritating guitar noise and the whole bit can be interpreted as a meltdown or overstimulation.The sprite is pretty realistic.I've seen many neurodivergent people do this exact thing (and I'm currently studying specialized education so I'm learning about them everyday lol) same thing with the sense of overstimulation.

Your room is a representation of your mind and after seeing his office i get it–

it's not THAT disorganized but there are multiple folders and papers on the ground ,his “desk” and sprouting out of his locker, there's also evidence on his desk chair,,, overall it's a solid representation of his disorganized mind (btw this is from real studies in psychology) also that's not a fucking desk that's just a speaker with cloth on it I can't with his dumbass.

The only pristine things in his office are his music related mementos so his special interest. And water for some reason which is impressive bc neurodivergent people often forget to eat or drink when deep in the grind (guilty).

His massage chair is peak ADHD! It's ergonomic and has a keyboard (clavier hehe) so he can sit comfortably for hours multitasking (working and playing plus his TVs) which is relatable to the ADHD experience, you either can't do multiple thing at once or you can use a distraction to help you doing your task.

I feel like his persona is a bit like masking, he learned what a basic rockstar is and leaned into that pre made persona to fit in but spoiler alert you can't keep your rockstar persona around people who aren't fans or when the context isn't appropriate because this mf air guitars in court … also did it in 4-4 when he was done being tormented by Kristoph, he puts on his persona , his mask to deal with a situation he normally can't handle and its observable before he confront Kris : he's clammy , quiet , overstimulated he's basically having a shutdown from intense emotions and horrible realizations.

✨ Probably just reaching ✨ :

His headphones in his teen concept art and official illustration + cover art illustration. This is probably because he's tied to music and promoting headphones but since I live 24/7 with headphones for noise regulation I just assume he also does this for it.

This is so dumb and not true at all but his finger snaps and air guitar bits are stimming bc why the hell not ?!

All of this is tied to the AuDhd experience from actual studies , multiple experiences from neurodivergents folks and me :)

[risuola]

BIRTHDAY GIFT — F. READER x GOJO SATORU

Sometimes you forget about your own birthday, but no worries, Satoru's got you. He always remember, and he even prepared a very special gift for you.

cw: fluff, no warnings — 2,8k words

a/n: i turned 28 this week, so here i am indulging myself with a fictional party, because i hate real parties. also i'm not sure if the picture in the middle is an official art or the fan art, i claim no rights to it 🩶

“Thanks Kento,” you addressed the blonde, when you got out of the bathroom in his house. “You’re saving my life.”

“No need to thank me,” he responded with the ghost of a smile on his face, and you checked yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, but other than that, thankfully normal, which wasn’t the case just half an hour ago, when you finished your job in the field.

It was a simple mission – get to the place, exorcise a bunch of curses, nothing out of ordinary and nothing especially difficult to do. Quite the opposite, it went smoothly – it took you three hours to hunt down every single one of the little curses, but their grades were low. One thing you were not told before taking the assignment though, was that those curses had a tendency to ugly explode with purple and green goo as they were exorcised. That’s why, when the job was done, you were covered from head to toe in those slimy curse gut-residuals. It was on your clothes, hands, in your hair and you could have sworn it was in your mouth too. You could feel it, smell it, taste it and damn was it disgusting. Hence why you called Nanami on your way back and thankfully found him at home. His apartment was so near, compared to the way you had to reach Jujutsu high and being the sweetheart that he is, he agreed for you to take a shower at his place and even gave you one of his dress shirts to wear, because your clothes were good for nothing but a trash bag. It was way too big, but with a belt it made for a pretty cute dress actually.

Once you were ready to leave, he got up as well.

“I have a thing to check in school so Ijichi will drive us both,” he explained and you gave it a nod and after that, you two went down to get a ride.

“How are you?”, you asked your friend, while you two were comfortably seated in the back of a car. It’s been a while since you last saw Nanami. “I didn’t even ask.”

“I’m good, thanks y/n,” he once again, gave you the slightest one of his smiles and exhaled deeply. “You’re tired, huh?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Guess I didn’t sleep well today, it’s all good.” You shrugged it off, looking at the driver. “And you, Ijichi? Satoru’s not bothering you too much?”

“I-I’m fine and no, he’s n-not,” the man stuttered, sweat beads forming on his forehead as he spoke and you chuckled. That poor man was constantly being terrorized by the strongest sorcerer for god knows why.

“So, he is bothering you,” you chuckled and Ijichi laughed nervously, wiping his forehead with a tissue. “You don’t have to be so scared of him, he just likes to assert his dominance but he wouldn’t hurt you. Is he bothering you as well, Nanami?”

“Gojo is always bothering me,” the blonde sighed. “It always amazes me how fondly you speak of him. You really seem to like Satoru.”

“Oh, he’s really not that bad,” a smile spread over your face as you thought about Satoru. “He’s quite charming, actually.”

Truth is, you and Satoru are closer than any of you might wanna admit. You’re co-workers, that’s for sure. Friends, also, you know each other since high school and you kept in touch ever since. You probably know the man more than he knows himself. You’ve also been on few dates. Unofficial dates, of course, more like you just went to the same place, at the same time, just the two of you, and sat at the same table or bench, and talked for hours as you were brushing circles onto the skin of his hands or he was just keeping yours in his palms. Those kinds of dates. Nothing serious.

“As charming as a clown can be, I guess,” Nanami shrugged softly and you giggled. “But you two should get together, it’s only you who he seems to not enjoy annoying.”

“Commitment in our profession doesn’t seem like a great idea.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

The rest of the drive went in calm, you talked with the two in the car about sweet little nothings, sharing meaningless details about your days and maybe Ijichi seemed a little more stressed than usual, but you didn’t notice anything too weird to think about it. That’s why when you pulled off to the school and got to the main building, your heart almost jumped out of your chest at the sudden and incredibly loud ‘surprise!’ being thrown at your face.

“Huh?”, it stunned you to the point of disorientation. Why were all of your students and most of the older sorcerers that you know here? Why all the balloons, confetti and the cake?

“It’s your birthday, dummy,” you quickly were swept by the long arm of no one else but Satoru Gojo, who greeted you with a grin wide and bright and a light squeeze on your shoulder. The gesture was friendly, but you couldn’t deny the warmth that exploded in your chest the moment he touched you.

“My birthday?” Oh yes, your birthday. “God, I forgot about it.”

“I figured, buuuut we didn’t so I hope you have a little bit more power in your batteries to celebrate?”, Satoru led you more into the crowded space and with real surprise you noticed that even Yuuta was here, and students from Kyoto along with Utahime. No Gakuganji though, thanks to the heavens.

It was all surreal but at the same time so grounding to be surrounded by so many people that you find close to your heart. And for the next hours, you forgot about how tired your body was, how disgusting you were earlier that day and how perfectly Nanami acted like he has a real job in the school rather than the party to attend.

You stayed there until very late, enjoying every second of talks and laughs with your friends and students. You caught up with all of them, learned about the progress the teenagers were making, got to know more about how work was for the older sorcerers and even, when outside for a quick fresh air breath, one of the little, flying curses gave you a card with few wishes written in it, with no sign whatsoever, but it was the handwriting that gave it away. Suguru Geto. Even though he went a very different path than the rest of you, even though you all lost contact with him the moment he left around the second year, he had never, not even once, forgotten about your birthday, always delivering a card or something else one way or another. It warmed your heart and sometimes you wished to see him just for a moment to give him one last bear hug. You couldn’t, but the card will go to the box of things you cherish, along with the round, dark shades that no one could see through – the ones that Gojo was wearing while in high school; with Shoko’s first scalpel that she used to practice – the very cheap one that got blunt after just few uses; with one button from Haibara’s uniform – the only one that was left hanging by a thread, when he got back to school one last time and along with many other things you’ll hold onto until the day you die.

“Tired?”, Satoru asked you, when the clock hands moved past 1am. Most of the students were already gone and teachers also began to crumble down, calling it a night.

“Exhausted,” you chuckled softly and squeezed the hand he offered you, helping you get up from the couch.

“Let’s get you to bed, how’s that sound?”

“Perfect.”

With all of the goodbyes done, you gathered your gifts and left with Satoru, heading towards your little apartment. All the way he was keeping your hand in his, grinning like he usually does, but something felt off in the way his fingers were wrapped around you. A little tighter than always, little more possessive – a little more like he was afraid to let go of you even though that would be an irrational fear, because you never wanted anything more than to be held by him.

“Soo,” he began, when you both stepped into your place and you put down all of the bags, “I hope you don’t think I forgot about your gift. Though it’s technically not your birthday anymore.”

“Oh, Satoru, you know I don’t care about the gifts, right?” you smiled at him. “All of this, the party, the people, is more than I could wish for. Every second spent with all of you is worth more than any gift I could receive.”

“Yea, yea,” he waved a hand at you, making you laugh. He made you feel all kinds of weird things, one of which being the urge to slap and kiss him at the same time. “I actually have two gifts for you.”

“Of course you have,” a shake of your head was all you could offer him. Of course, Satoru Gojo had to be extra like that. “So?”

“Sooo, that’s the first one.” You didn’t even question the way he pulled the light-blue bag with a matching ribbon on top of it from behind his back, like he had it all of the time, which you know he didn’t. You took it anyway and before you even peeked inside, you reached up to him and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, whispering little ‘thank you’. “You’re welcome, now, you can check it later,” almost immediately after the bag landed in your hands, it was snatched away and put down where the other gifts were. “The second gift-“

You looked at him with confusion, realizing that Satoru was… nervous? He was bouncing slightly on his feet, as if he was hyping himself up. He took his glasses off and brushed a hand through his hair.

“Yea?”, you encouraged him to continue, taking him by the hands in hopes to calm him down a little. “What is it? Satoru, don’t tell me you bought me a snow tiger or something?”

“Huh? No, I didn’t. What, you want a snow tiger? You said they are cute, but-“

“No, absolutely not. No snow tigers, please.”

“Ok, wow, I’m more nervous than I was… ever, probably, that’s new,” he laughed at his own composure, or rather the lack of thereof, and now you really began to worry. What the hell did this man did?

“Just say it, I can take it.”

Pulling him by the hands, you took him onto the sofa, now slightly worrying he might really pass out. Doors to your apartment stayed open wide, but that was the least of your worries, when you two sat down and all your eyes could fix on was a man next to you. He looked stunning in his dark grey sweater that exposed a little bit of his collar bones and his long neck, contrasting with his pale skin, light hair and really making his eyes pop. The eyes that made it so easy to get lost. They were like an ocean under the clear sky and bright sunlight, illuminating with thousands of glittering sparkles and the shades of azure and turquoise mixed and flew one into another, intertwining and creating an artwork impossible to recreate. If someone were to animate Satoru, the whole budget would probably go into his eyes alone.

“So, first you need to know that if what I want to give you is not something you feel comfortable accepting, please don’t feel obliged to and just say no. Okay?”, he spoke again and you nodded.

“Come on, Satoru. Just tell me. Or show me, whatever it is.”

“Show you. Alright, I can do that.”

You expected everything. Your mind even wandered into absurd such as him giving you an airplane for god knows what reason, but even in your boldest, bravest dreams you didn’t anticipate his lips on yours. He went all slow and soft about it, closing the distance carefully, leaving you with more than enough time to react and push him away if you wanted to, and when he finally reached you, planting a gentle kiss to your mouth, whilst his hand rested on the side of your neck a little stiffly, you froze for a second. Your body froze, but your heart was racing inside your chest, beating so hard he probably could hear it and feel it in your pulse underneath his palm. Satoru’s lips felt as soft as they looked, so perfect against yours even though what was happening wasn’t even resembling a kiss. It was more like a press with the slightest movement applied but it spoke so much. It was an offer – that way Gojo opened himself to you, ripped his own chest apart and with that simple peck on the lips, he wanted to tell you that now, he’s ready to be vulnerable with you, if you’d only want him to.

“Is my second gift a kiss from you?”, you questioned when he moved his head back just a little, searching for your reaction. It would be on brand for Gojo to consider a kiss from himself a valuable gift, which it was, but if that’s what he wanted to offer you, he had to put more effort into it.

“It’s me. If you’ll have me,” he almost whispered, smoothing over your jawline with his thumb. “Maybe it’s not the best idea to commit to relationship in our line of work, but fuck this. If you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

“Are you serious?”

“Never been more serious.”

Your heart fluttered. Grabbing his face in both of your hands, you went in and kissed him, pouring into it all of the love you held for him and he purred softly against your lips, wrapping his long arms around you and leaning more against you. He outweighed you; you lost your balance and fell back onto the couch and he followed you closely, breaking the kiss just to ask, “is that a yes?”

“Yes, Satoru. Very much yes,” you chuckled and his lips were back on yours, taking your breath away with how good it felt. Your fingers found a way through his silky, snowy white strands, you smoothed over the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, giving into the sensation that radiated throughout your entire nervous system, sending hot waves of pure euphoria down your spine and into every cell in your body. You were happy, the exhaustion now completely forgotten and only the man above you mattered. His weight felt so right on top of you, even in the insanely uncomfortable position you two were now trapped in with your hips twisted below his torso and him now half in the air and half on the couch because there was no way for his height to fit in here. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was his lips on yours, his warmth on your skin and-

“Doors,” you mumbled into the kiss, the gentle whiff of cold air reminded you of what has been forgotten. The doors, that were still wide open. He could feel your chest rumbling with a chuckle as you realized none of you cared enough to even close your apartment when you went in and he made a decision to ignore this fact, now completely consumed by the thought of you. He hummed something and moved his lips lower, smearing kisses all over your chin and down your neck and you tugged softly onto his hair. “Satoru, doors are still opened-”

Getting up, walking towards the entrance and locking the doors would be the logical thing to do, but the thought of parting his own body from yours for even a second now didn’t dare to cross Gojo’s mind, so he stretched his hand towards the doors, consumed by sucking a red spot to the side of your neck and you couldn’t believe it, but he blasted the door with a cursed energy. They shut with the loudest noise anyone could create at that hour in the middle of the night and not ten seconds passed, before they just fell out of frame and hit the floor with another harsh thud.

That seemed to do the trick in stopping the heat, because both of you froze for a moment and you looked to the side, he looked to the side and the world stopped for a whole five second, before you started laughing and playfully patting his shoulder.

“What have you done,” you whined. “Satoruu~”

“I’ll fix this,” he swore, hiding his face back into the crook of your neck, pretending like he wasn’t even there and you couldn’t help but brush through his hair as laughter still had the better of you. “Guess I’ll have to stay the night so you can be safe.”

“Guess that might be necessary.”

[staridust]

★ DO NOT USE/REPOST WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. NO MINORS.

Jack in my Pouring Rain AU vs Jack in my Sunnyverse AU

Gonna ramble a bit here about the two portrayals, there’s a lot more typing space here so I will also be using my posts as a bit of infodump sometimes! ↓

For starters, I really adore Jack as a design and character, there’s not much I wanted to alter about him in the design department, so all changes are subtle!

✦ Starting with Pouring Rain!Jack!

This guy’s probably the closest to how he’s presented in game honestly— still manipulative, still colorful, probably a bit more deranged because his sunshine keeps forgetting shit.

Art wise, I wanted to really keep the colors on him vibrant, but also give him sort of a dim vibe as well. His hair is a bit more reflective of turquoise highlights with a gradient of a muted darker blue at the tips.

I like to imagine Jack uses colorful knives (if he most certainly has to use one). I have colorful knives in my house, it just seemed right as I was doing the dishes one day. He also changed his paints ever so slightly, because stars are very important to him.

He’s also rather glitchy when upset, but not that of a computer glitch when it happens.. more of like… something that’s being rewinded and re-written over numerous times, no?

Or, maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about!

And finally, the colorful paint on him!

Rain!Jack’s original sunshine way back nowhere was actually a graffiti artist, so does Jack know how to paint? It’s not like he would say, but it is a bit easier to play off a mysterious red stain if you’re covered in all the other colors.

——

✦ Ending with Sunnyverse!Jack!

Sunnyverse, is quite frankly a bit of a community like idea. The premise being quite similar to the same notion of Spiderverse, where multiple of the characters can exist and vibe but may look different, while still following a canon of sorts. It’s basically like showing off your characters and AUs in your style!

(Honestly, with a name like that, maybe I should draw Spider-Jack… *Sunrise Spider?*)

This Jack is a divergent of the idea where the fictional world of CloudyTown is real. ← This information also is a slight spin-off of an unofficial AU called “Sunny Time Town” by artist Sauce! I will also be using “Sunnyverse” for the official name of my AU that includes my ocs that switch up the story in a non-yandere manner!

SV!Jack here rocks a bowtie and suspenders with the design paying a full tribute to a sketch I did in March! I’ve seen a few comments relating it to his teaching profession… and now I can’t I see it, haha!

To contrast Rain!Jack, SV!Jack’s hair is a nice pure blue gradient that dips into indigo/purple at the tips!

I added his belt as a tie in both of them (don’t ask why the belt is doing a :3), but now I hear the belt is sentient… that’s a cool idea I seen around, I gotta learn about that!

That’s about all the information I had on this piece though, til next time!

[blazehedgehog]

After watching SAGE's 2024 trailer, you ever get the feeling that most people want to be making indie games instead of fan games nowadays,? Every year there's been less and less fan works there.

This is the first year I've really felt it in any meaningful way.

There have been attempts for more than a decade to rename SAGE to drop the "Sonic" part. I've always pushed back against that and at this point the branding is too strong to give up, I think. People know about and come to SAGE because the brand is strong. Renaming it would be a death sentence.

Taking off my business hat, it's a bummer to see fangames in the minority here. Everybody wants to hop on that indie game gravy train and chase the success of Pizza Tower (seriously, count how many Pizza Tower clones are in the trailer this year) or Freedom Planet or Spark the Electric Jester or whatever.

And it's easy to congratulate people for striking out on their own and making original games. I was one of the many voices urging Sabrina to divorce Freedom Planet from the Sonic franchise and make it into an original game she could sell. So she ran a crowdfunding campaign (multiple, actually), was successful, and now we have two Freedom Planet games. And that's great!

But... does that mean all fangames should go away forever?

The example I lean on the hardest is comic books.

A lot of the guys who created the biggest super heroes aren't around anymore. They gave up control long ago or are straight up dead now. These books are effectively officialized fanfiction now, as are the $300,000,000 movies based on them. An ever-increasing number of people writing, drawing and directing these characters today were not alive when they were originally created.

But people still keep writing Batman stories, officially or otherwise. Because there are some stories you can only tell with Batman. Now, you could break off and make your own character that's similar to Batman, build up this history for him, and then finally tell your original story with that character. And maybe that's satisfying, to have built something of your own like that.

But for one: that's a lot of work. Batman is interesting because he has decades (almost a century now) of history behind him to play off of and work with. There are people out there who will tell you to just start writing your dream story and forget about building up to it first, but that's more about motivation and confidence than the idea that stories don't need historical context.

And two: that's already been done.

There's a good chance you know who Rob Liefeld is from his, uh, "distinctive" art style. He also created Deadpool, a katana-wielding mercenary assassin that dresses in red and black, whose real name is Wade Wilson. But before Deadpool, he created Deathstroke, a katana-wielding mercenary assassin that dresses in orange and black, whose real name is Slade Wilson.

Here is a guy who has built a career on copying his own work (and the work of others) over and over and over again.

Did it make Rob Liefeld rich and famous? Technically yes, but he kind of got rich because other people made better work using his characters, and he's famous for being kind of a hack.

So which is better?

Creative output you can do right here, right now, today, but is considered "fanfiction" or "fanart" or a "fangame", which may or may not lead to you being the person handling the official thing at some point down the road...

Or spending years of your life toiling to bring an original concept to life, and even if you struggle through all of the boredom and hardship of getting your original product out the door, it gets lost in the noise of now-million other creators trying to do the exact same thing. And then, at the end of your launch, after 2, 3, even 5 years of working and working and working, you've only made enough money to cover rent on your apartment for a month and a half.

Or, to put it another way:

Are you ditching fangame development because you have a legitimately great story you want to tell, or are you just doing it because you can't make money on a fangame?

Are you just creating another Bloodstrike?

As someone who has struggled to justify putting lots of hard work into a fangame myself, and have both made very popular fangames and some not-so-great original games, I don't know if I have a definitive answer for you. But I do wish there were more fangames at the fangaming event, and I will say, as always, if I could get paid a livable wage for making fangames, I would drop everything and do it in a heartbeat.

[kimdokjas]

why you should read Mystic Prince if you enjoyed ORV

Mystic Prince / Prince of Myolyeong (묘령의 황자) is a fantasy and action-adventure manhwa with art & story by Aheuredal (아흐레달) and in my humble opinion, an absolute hidden gem. it's literally one the best manhwas i've ever read (among the top 2) and i've finally gathered my thoughts enough to try to articulate why i love it so much, and hopefully convince you to give it a chance!

here's the official summary on webtoon:

An immortal emperor rules the Kingdom of Yeol, a divine country blessed by gods with awesome powers. After a thousand years of peaceful rule, the time has come for a new emperor to be chosen. This is determined by a series of trials, in which twenty princes with special powers who have trained since birth must compete. As all princes of varying personalities and agendas gather to partake in the trials, intrigue and possibly even bloodshed seem all but certain. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the other princes, the Fourth Prince Jeok-yeon Ryu hides a secret he must guard with his life.

anyway i literally made a carrd for this, that's how much i care about this manhwa and i worked very hard on it!! you can find the carrd here*

(* also if you hate daily pass like me pls note that there's a fan translation as well! just keep in mind that some episodes have ost but you can find the links to youtube on the carrd as well. but if you enjoy it please do try to leave likes, comments, and a good rating on webtoon to support the creator!)

Mystic Prince is incredibly unique in terms of story and execution that i can't really compare it to anything else but here's why i think you'll enjoy it, especially if you also liked orv:

strong-willed MC who's not naturally skilled but works extremely hard

said MC is willing to suffer and hurt themselves to achieve their goals (aka kim dokja-esque tendencies)

seemingly cold and aloof ML with yoo joonghyuk vibes at first, naturally gifted and seems to look down on everyone

...but is actually head over heels for MC and just doesn't know how to express his feelings

ensemble cast of incredibly complex and well-developed characters with different personalities and motivations

MC seems a little dense at times but they have a tragic backstory that explains why they're Like That

incredibly bisexual vibes !! like literally off the charts

slowburn romance that is cooking up such a great meal

MC and ML have actually known each other for centuries

characters go through trials that involve risking death

extremely unique lore and world-building

i said ML before but there are actually multiple potential MLs with how much complexity all the character dynamics have

beautiful character designs (literally over 10+ within the main cast and they're all so unique)

evocative writing and heartfelt monologues that seem taken out of a book of pure poetry

narratively significant motifs of fire and water (à la orv's black/white and reader/protagonist)

profound and realistic depiction of the inner feelings and troubles that the characters go through

incredibly heart-wrenching original soundtrack! (actually made me cry)

some of the most gorgeous art i've seen in any manhwa (seriously pls just open the 1st episode and look at the first few panels)

[spoilers below for chapter ~10]

delicious gender fuckery

MC is actually cross-dressing afab (i personally hc them as genderqueer; korean doesn't have gendered pronouns but the official tl uses she/her pronouns)

bonus: they're built like a fucking tank (as seen here) like hello??? which is so refreshing to see for an afab MC

plus they're also canonically lacking in empathy but still deeply compassionate which again is really refreshing

i'm sure there's even more stuff i'm forgetting but these are just some reasons off the top of my head why i think this manhwa is so amazing

please do give Mystic Prince a chance, it's an absolute delight!! there are multiple beautiful covers but here's a couple of them, BE ART BAITED <3

and finally some of my personal reactions to Mystic Prince and also a note regarding the content warnings under the cut!

feel free to skip this part lol but personally when i look for recs, i love when people tell me their emotional reactions and how passionate they are about it! so if this tells you anything,

this is the ONLY manhwa to have made me cry so far (yes that includes the orv webtoon, but not the novel ofc) like actually ugly sobbing with snot and tears and everything lmao

(it's not all sad though! this manhwa will have you clutching your heart one moment and then cackling out loud the next)

and it's also the ONLY manhwa i've ever spent actual money on before the fan tl picked it up just so i could read the advanced chapters (i'm notoriously cheap so this says a lot imo)

and i'm not alone in this, every other comment on webtoon is people saying the exact same thing. the general consensus is that this is 100% a hidden gem (webtoon DP my behated why'd you have to shoot yourself in the foot like that)

also regarding the content warnings on the carrd: this was my first time making a list of cws (i don't think anyone else has made one yet?) and i was a little hesitant to add them, so i sincerely apologize if i missed anything!! if anyone else has anything else to add (cws or otherwise) then please feel free to send me a message and i'll be happy to edit it!!

(btw this was inspired by this post which is also a great summary for why u should read a cnovel called mist unlimited)

[unetherian]

I recently discovered I'm a red fox therian!! I'm so happy but I don't know what I can do like day to day to express my identity minus yk like gear and quads and stuff

I'm so excited to be part of the community!!!

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼✿𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼

Hi!

I'm so happy for you, it must be so euphoric to find your theriotype and join the community at the same time! [Unfortunately I didn't find mine TvT]

So, let’s get to the tips!

Making red fox art! It can be drawing, painting, but also music (by creating a soundtrack on the theme of your natural habitat or a song about foxes), writing, photography (photos of your habitat and/or your theriotype, if possible), some beings create by drawing shapes in the earth/sand, and adding stones, I find that very beautiful! You don't need to be a talented artist to create! Find a technique you like, then go for it!

Watch some red fox art! You don't have to make art to enjoy the wonders of this concept! You can also make art requests to beings who create drawings, moodboards, stimboards, and even poems! You can also read books and watch series/movies with foxes!

Collect things! I collect feathers that I usually find on the ground, and it gives me a kind of "predatory pleasure" to have a piece of prey as a trophy, even though I have never hunted birds for real. You can also collect objects from nature, like small stones, sticks, etc. ⚠️Be careful if you want to buy taxidermy or vulture culture, because it can come from cruel farms where the animals are unfortunately exploited in a horrible way...please do a lot of research.

“Claim” a territory! If you are territorial, this activity is for you! Select a place in your garden, in a park, in a forest, (your territory can be in a public place, but in this case don't forget that this place does not officially belong to you) You can draw a map of this place, and maybe build a den outside.

Make a scent marker! It's a small potion where there are natural elements mixed with your scent, you can use it to mark your territory. I highly recommend it! Thorn from "therian territory" on youtube made a tutorial for this!

Learn fox body language! This is something very interesting, it will surely help you connect with your species. Maybe you'll find that you use the same body language?

Create a therian/alterhuman/nonhuman journal ! It's a notebook, or a small notepad, where you write things related to your alter/nonhuman identity. You can write about your therian journey, the animal experiences you have, for example. To make it, I reused my old half-empty scrapbook, cut out the used pages and then rebuilt a cover page. (I didn't have an empty notebook)

Create a place dedicated to your theriantropy! Place elements that remind you of nature, place gears if you have any, images or drawings of your theriotype, etc. on a shelf, a piece of furniture, or elsewhere. You can make it aesthetic if you want :3.

Eat a snack that looks like a red fox's diet! Foxes eat a wide variety of things! Keep in mind that your body can't eat certain things that foxes can, so be careful, okay?

Make yourself some less common gears! Gears are not necessarily tails, masks and collars, a gear is anything that an alterhuman/nonhuman can connect to his alter/nonhumanity, there are many other things like bracelets, phone cases, arm/legwarmers, etc. You will certainly find inspiration while browsing tumblr.

Try to do some vocal exercises! I don't know if you classify this as a common way to express one's theriantropy, but hey, why not?¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Connect with the community! Share your experiences, your feelings, your questions, your points of view in the online community (I advise you not to use Tiktok and YouTube shorts, unless your goal is to educate this part of the community). The Tumblr community is mostly welcoming and caring! [Do not share your personal information, stay safe].

There you go, I hope I helped you :3 I already posted a something where I gave some tips for young/new therians:

https://www.tumblr.com/unetherian/760241665074233344/things-to-do-when-youre-a-newly-awakened?source=share

maybe it could be useful to you.

Have a good alter/nonhuman journey, take care of yourself(drink water!!!!), don't forget that you are valid, have a purrrrfect day!

Bye !

𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼✿𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼

[luminique]

looking through the lighter tag at the end of the day and your posts are there 😭 I am fed I am happy

HAVE YOU SEEN THAT OFFICIAL STORY ART OF LIGHTER (DONT!!!! READ AHEAD IF YOU HAVENT AND DONT WANT MINOR SPOILERS !!!!) ooohh my god. not to yearn on main but imagine him letting you help him bandage him up or him softly watching you trace your hand along his scars. If you ask he'll probably tell you where he got them but he doesn't wanna make you uncomfortable by just straight up telling you GAH I LOVE HIM

I keep thinking about how he's the one of newest sons of calydon members and the whole idea around being friends since before he had joined them and just . ouugh. And maybe you join him (and he will literally never forget it even though he wont mention how much that means to him)

Something something being the mechanic to his biker . I can't spell it out I had a mokent of clarity and got embarrassed about all this but I'm NOT TURNING ANON ON AGAIN!!!! I want to talk about him so badly he's such a loser (/pos)

he’d definitely not tell you straight up from what we’ve seen in the story currently. he lightly dances around the topic, maybe thinking it might push you away from him. who would love someone who’s covered in scars? but the moment you show even more interest and care, it softens him so much.

ALSO since i just finished the quest, he says at the end that we’re (proxy/mc) the only ones that remember him. like i literally did this whole event FOR YOU !! and if the SoC ever ask about you two, he’d get flustered when you’d start talking about your friendship with him. you’re mentioning some embarrassing moments and he just clears his throat and gets up, saying that he needs to get more nitro-fuel (there’s still a lot left). seeing you talk to the girls from afar, reminded him of when he first met you. he was beat up, bruised, earning titles for himself, people would never voluntarily go up to him without the intent of starting a fight. and yet you did, bearing no ill intent and only pure interest in wanting to know him.

for the last one, OUGSHSGSKDG i genuinely have like a thing for machinery (robot men i love) but i never see it through because i fear i am not a mechanic/engineer. definitely will try to write a long proper post for it so maybe in the future (maybe after his release?). BUT THE VISION !! I SEE IT !!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

sunflower, chapter fifteen

summary:  Spencer “distracts” Y/n…

warnings:  hyperfixation, kissing, thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, praise, blowjob (just a tiny one), penetrative sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 2709

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It had been a few weeks since you and Spencer had officially moved in together. In the meanwhile, he had returned to work, which had scared you a lot, but he reassured you that it would be a while longer before he would return to kicking down doors. It hadn’t removed all of your worries, but it helped a bit. 

Sadly, that wasn’t the only thing keeping your mind occupied. The gallery had asked you to come up with 3 new original pieces for the show, so you’d spend most of your waking hours either worrying or working on that. 

Although you’d move in with Spencer, you’d still kept your apartment as an art studio. It had been Spencer’s idea, knowing that there wasn’t the required space at his place, the convenience of already having the extra place right next door was too good to pass up. It didn’t really look the same anymore. It was emptier and your work had kinda taken over the space now that you weren’t restricted to a single room as your workspace anymore.

You’d been in here all day, frustrated by yourself, not finding any of your ideas to be good enough. The music was blasting loudly from the stereo, and you were currently just standing there, staring at the process you’d made today, which, in your opinion, wasn’t a lot. 

It didn’t really look like anything anymore, that’s how long you’d been staring at it. Kinda like when you repeat a word over and over again, it loses all meaning. 

Hearing the volume of the music slowly turn down until it came to a quiet, you turned your head to look.

“Hey, when did you get home?” you greeted, not even trying to hide the weariness that was beaming from you.

“Just now,” he replied, setting down his satchel, moving closer to you and studying the canvases, “it’s coming along great.”

“Urgh, please don’t,” you winced, looking back over it.

Casting his glance back at you, he asked, “have you been in here since I left this morning?”

“Um, yeah…”

“you’ve been in here 10 hours?” his eyebrows shot up, “please tell me you at least took a lunch break?”

“I ate something,” you said defensively, “I didn’t take a break to do it, but I ate something.”

“Okay,” he sighed, now standing in front of you, he plucked the paintbrush out of your hand, “it’s 5 o’clock, you’re done for today.”

Trying to catch it, he held it out of your grasp, “just, one more hour.”

“Y/n, you need a break,” he sat the brush down in the glass of cloudy colourful water that was at your feet, “you need a night off.”

“Yeah,” you laughed lightly, “I would love that, but I don’t think I could relax right now even if I tried.”

Taking your hands, he tugged you closer to the door, “you need a distraction.”

“I need to forget. If it was up to me, I would just like to forget, just for tonight,” you sighed.

“Then let me help you forget,” he pulled you a bit closer to him.

“What do you have in mind? Watch a movie or something?”

Smiling, he looked down at your lips, “we could, but I have another idea.”

“Oh really?” you grinned, starting to get what he was hinting at, “and what would that be, doctor Reid?”

Closing the distance, he kissed you, slowly spinning you around so that your back hit the wall. As soon as you felt the hard surface against your spine, the kiss grew more passionate. Letting your tongue slip past his lips, the two of you just stayed there for a while, making out like horny teenagers.

Running his hands down your body, they came to rest on your hips. You then felt one of his legs nudge your thighs apart, making room for it. His tall stature made it come to meet your covered center. 

The contact made you inhale sharply. Glancing down, you watched how his thigh steadily moved against you. Squeezing your hips, he moved them for you. Biting back a moan, you looked up into his eyes with a rapid growing hunger, though it died down ever so slightly as you saw the half-finished paintings over his shoulder. 

“Spencer, they’re staring at me,” you whined. 

Removing the contact his leg had given you, he grabbed your hand, “then let’s go.” 

Kissing your cheek, he picked up his bag and dragged you with him out into the hallway, quickly locking the door behind him. You giggled lightly as he pulled you into the other apartment, all giddy with anticipation.

Throwing your arms around him, the two of you stumbled towards the bedroom, ending up almost falling as the bedframe hit the back of his knees. 

Whispering against your lips, he slipped his hands under your shirt, “let me help you forget, just for a moment.” 

Sitting down, he pulled you with him, landing your thighs securely on either side of one of his. Gliding his palms down to hold on to your hips, he pushed you down, rocking you over his leg. 

Letting out a moan, you weaved your fingers throughout his hair. Arching your back, you blinked your eyes heavily at the wonderful spot he managed to put pressure on. Your pulse was heavy, you could feel it clear as day, and not just in your chest. 

One of his hands let go, only to snake around to the front of your pants, working at the button. You reached down to practically rip off your shirt. Once it was over your head, you went back to kissing his sweet lips. Hearing your zipper open up, you felt his long fingers dip down into your panties.

“Just focus on me, baby,” he whispered against your lips as his fingertips found your clit, “don’t think about anything else,” buckling your hips in his grasp, he reached further down, feeling just how turned on you were, he slowly sank a finger inside of you, “just this,” he exhaled, visibly enjoying the small gasp that escaped your lips.

Slowly moving it in and out, he didn’t do the motion many times before your body was screaming for more and he happily obliged. Adding another one, he started trailing his lips down your neck, leaving sloppy kisses and the occasional nibble on his determent way down towards your tits.

“How I make you feel,” he sucked down on the soft skin of your left boob, latching on to it, making you roll your hips, “the way I’m touching you,” he nibbled his way over to the other one.

Curling his digits slightly, he started moving them faster, putting special attention to that spot that made all of the hair on your body stand up. 

“That’s good, Y/n, just focus on that, you’re such a good girl.”

He’d never said that before. If you didn’t already have goosebumps, you sure did now. Incoherently moaning out his name, you tightened your grip on his hair and let go. Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes.

Slowing down his motions, he removed his hand from between your legs and swirled his tongue over your nipple. Peaking down at him, he pulled back and breathed against your skin, “fuck, don’t look at me like that.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes me want to do some very dirty things to you.”

Sliding down his body, you landed on the floor, “oh yeah? Like what?” you crept your hands up his thighs and undid his trousers. 

Jaw slack, his breathing picked up. There you were, on your knees in front of him, tits out and pants undone. It wasn’t like you hadn’t blown him before, but it wasn’t often that you got the chance, he always wanted to focus on other activities. 

Pulling him out, his cock almost sprung free of its restraints. It was almost painfully hard, the tip glistening with precum. Pumping it a few times, you leaned forward, just to lick it.

Inhaling sharply, he tried to answer your question, “I, um, what?”

Blinking up at him, you smile, “see? It’s hard to find the words when someone’s mouth is on you,” taking him a fair bit past your lips.

“I don’t know wha-,” you kept going down till you couldn’t take anymore, but still you kept trying, determent to go down all the way, “holy fuck,” he cursed, getting the wind knocked out of him. Trying your best to swallow it all, you were flush up against your fist that was still holding on to the base of him. 

You moaned around him, loving the way you made his brain turn into mush. Bopping up and down, you felt a few tears gather in the corners of your eyes and drool drip down your chin.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, he groaned, “you’re way too good at that, you gotta stop,” and reached down to pull you off with a pop. You felt a small string of spit come into contact with your chest.

Holding onto both sides of your face, he bent down to give you a hungry kiss, pulling you up to your feet. His hands let go of your cheeks and slid down to yank your pants off all the way. Pulling back, his eyes were dark, “get on the bed.” 

Quickly wiping your face with the back of your hand, you sat down on the mattress in front of him, eagerly waiting for more. 

Keeping his eyes locked on yours he slowly, or too slowly in your horny opinion, shredded off his clothes. The pace at which he worked at the buttons was just cruel. “Turn around, Y/n.”

Doing as he asked, you kneeled facing away from him but still looking over your shoulder, not wanting to miss the show.

Now completely naked, he stood right behind you and kissed your shoulder. Grabbing onto your hips, he lifted them up, making you clutch onto the bedsheets for support. Pushing back towards him, he whispered in your ear with a smile, “you ready?”

Running his dick through your folds, teasing you, you almost gasped, the words flowing out of you, “yes, yes, yes!” wiggling in his grasp. 

And with one fell swoop, he entered you at once, filling up every inch. With a small whine, you arched your back against him. 

“There you go,” he cooed, running his fingers up your back, “look at you taking my cock so well.”

Going slow on the way out, till just the very essence of him was still inside you, he snapped his hips, stuffing you once more, “such a good girl for me.”

Moving his hand down around your waist, he palmed one of your jiggling boobs. Pinching the nipple, you moaned, feeling yourself already dangerously close you another orgasm. The joy of getting to suck him off had given you more pleasure than you realised. 

Reaching down, he rubbed your clit, “fuck, that’s it, baby. Cum again. Let me feel you.”

Your legs were shaking, and both them and your arms gave out as he fucked you through your orgasm, sending you crashing down onto the mattress. Ascending down with you, you felt his hot breath against your ear, “fuck, I love you so much.”

Slowing his thrusts down, he never fully stopped. His weight on you after that orgasm felt amazing. Lazily reaching a hand back to touch his side, you mumbled into the pillow, “I love you, I love you…”

Turning your head, you couldn’t quite see him, but fuck you could feel him. Keeping his face close to yours, he fucked you slowly, clawing you back from the high, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 

Hearing by his noises that he was close, you slowly turned around, first bringing your knees up to the side, turning your lower body. Propping himself up on his forearms, he made room for the rest of your body to turn. Finally seeing his face again, you couldn’t help but smile. 

Tangling your fingers in his hair, scratching at his scalp, you brought him down for a small kiss. Both of you were deprived of too much oxygen to keep it going for long. Tugging at the roots of his hair a little harder, you saw his eyes roll back and he let out a low groan. Letting his hips buck free as his orgasm rushed through him, pumping you full of his cum. 

Panting, he stilled inside of you, and you couldn’t help but wiggle your hips, trying to help yourself to another orgasm. Overly sensitive, he pulled out with a wince. 

Reaching down to finish yourself off, he gently smacked your hand away, replacing it with his own. Sitting back, he admired the mess he had made between your legs, running his fingertips through your folds, pushing every last drop of his hot load back into you as it tried to escape. 

“Spencer, please don’t tease, I wanna cum again, please make me come again.”

“Then be a good girl and spread your legs,” he breathed out and as soon as you did, you felt him plunge two of his fingers into you, “that it? You like that?” swiftly picking up his pace, pushing hard onto your sweet spot, creating the most filthy wet noises you’d ever heard.

Adding his other hand to join the party, he used it to toy with your sensitive clit. Eyes locked on your pussy, it was only when you crept up on the end that he glanced up at your ecstasy filled face.

Writhing around, you tried to say his name, anything to let him know how close you were, but it wasn’t very coherent through all of your moans. 

“Shh, I know, baby, I know, just relax for me, I’ve got you, you can let go.”

Coming down a third time you felt delirious. As Spencer laid down next to you, also exhausted, you grinned over at him, “thank you for distracting me, Spencer,” turning, as he welcomed you into his arms.

“Anytime.”

Laying a few kisses on his clavicle, you informed in between them, “and just so you know, you saying good girl? You can do that as much as you want in the future.”

He didn’t say anything, he only started laughing. Confused, you looked up at him and asked, “what?”

“I’m sorry, it’s not that, I will definitely remember using it, it’s just, um, I kinda read a book of yours on the metro home today…”

“What book was that?” you asked, not recalling any book you owned that would even be remotely interesting for Spencer to read.

“That book you read some time ago, got all flustered about me knowing about it… Hearts aflame by Cherry Vixen…”

“You did what?” you didn’t know whether to laugh or yell.

“I fell over it in the moving process and thought it might be fun… I mean, it inspired this, so I think it was fun.”

Shaking your head, you chuckled and laid your head down again, “I can’t believe you read that… is that why you called me a good girl?”

“Well, it was mentioned in the novel 78 times, so I thought it increased the probability of your liking it. But I’ve wanted to say it for a long time, just, didn’t want to do anything you weren’t into…”

Looking up at him again, “I don’t think you could do anything wrong, Spencer. If it’s you who’s doing it, I’d most likely be into it,” and then kissed his lips sweetly. 

Nuzzling his nose into yours, he whispered against your lips, “good girl.”

Feeling a shiver run down your spine, you shuttered, “okay, maybe don’t use it outside of the bedroom unless you want my mind to melt,” that only made him giggle and pull you further up on top of him, “I am being serious. Do you want me to jump your bones again? Is that what you’re trying to do?”

“What, did you think we were done? Oh, Y/n, I promised you a distraction, to make you forget. I won’t stop until you have turned into puddy. We’ve got all night for that.”

next chapter

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[fumiyami]

MY OPINIONS ON DIFFERENT TOKOYAMI SHIPS!!!!

TokoTsuyu (Tokoyami x Asui)

• both animal based!!

•teamed up for that one thing of 1A against the teachers and was a good team

•saw a fanfic of these two on ao3 and it made me think of them two more!!

•I see Tsu as a lesbian mostly but none of their sexualities are confirmed (and let’s be real most of them are gonna be straight😰)

Overall: 4/10

BakuToko (Bakugou x Tokoyami)

•I saw a bunch of fics of these two and they were mostly all super good!!

•but y’all I hate bakugou’s character😓 (don’t send me death threats please and thanks!!)

•still though those fics changed my perspective on these ships

•also like super aggressive x super calm is a good trope!!

Overall: 5/10

TokoYama (Tokoyami x Aoyama)

•u guys i’m coming out as a tokoyama shipper!!! :((

•I LIVE for the trope of sun x moon

•also they have so many things in common!! like: both being insecure (I think), both having belly button quirks, both speaking in an unusual way (yuga speaking french and fumi being like gothic and stuff), and having a set aesthetic (yuga being bright and shiny while fumi’s all dark and broody)

•i’ve seen SO MANY cute fics of these two!! one of my personal favourites: Your Love Is Sunlight by Rainy_Day_Lemonade on AO3!!

•most birds are attracted to shiny things!! yuga is a very shiny thing!!

•I imagine yuga stealing fumi’s heart by first making dark shadow warming up to him!!

Overall: 10/10 (MY FAVOURITE MHA SHIP)

KuroYami (Kuroiro x Tokoyami)

•I don’t know much about this ship or kuroiro in general but he seems cool!!

•they’re both like dark-based or gothic!!

•I feel like it would take dark shadow a long time to warm up to kuroiro due to like him controlling him that one time?? I wouldn’t know I skipped past that scene :((

•also!! kuroiro canonically already has a crush and I don’t really like going against canon or anything!! (I like when my delusional mind can at least imagine my ships being possible)

•the opposite of opposites attract😥

Overall: 3/10

TokoKami (Tokoyami x Kaminari)

•i’ve seen like one fic of this and it was super good!!

•also I saw these fanmade mha tweets on tiktok by this person called Az who ships denki and fumi and it was so cute!! like: Denki: Tokoyami keeps giving me rocks what do I do??? (or something like that)

•I don’t know much about denki (or anyone other than fumikage and mina for that matter) but he seems like a good character!!

•I don’t see much of these two though :((

•another sun x moon trope?? maybe?? opposites attract?

•there’s official art of fumikage and denki sitting next to each other and stuff so :))

Overall: 4/10

TokoShoji (Tokoyami x Shoji)

•I had no idea what colour to do for Shoji so I just went blue :((

•anyways my heteromorph boys!!

•I don’t think of these two much but I keep seeing cute fanart of them on pinterest!!

•I think they’re friends in canon??!

•I feel like this would be a possibility like if any of these ships were to happen it’d be either TokoTsuyu or TokoShoji!!

•i’m so sorry but I did almost forget about Shoji entirely (I love the man I really do!! such a gentleman)

•not much to say but I like the height difference!! short x tall!!

Overall: 6/10

TokoJirou (Tokoyami x Jirou)

•this ship could also be a possibility in some far away universe!!

•they had a drama cd together about jirou being scared of ghosts while her and fumikage explored a haunted building of UA and she grabbed onto the hem of his shirt the whole time which was cool!

•they both have cool aesthetics!!

•both play guitar so they could do like duets together or something

•oh em gee I just thought of them doing a cover of that one song where it’s like “they’re only human they don’t see” or whatever!! (sorry y’all I barely know that song🤯🤯)

•I prefer either jirou x denki or jirou x momo but tokojirou is fantastic as well!!

•but I also have a slight grudge against jirou for personal reasons..(don’t kill me)

Overall: 6/10

TokoKoda (Tokoyami x Koda)

•both heteromorphs!!

•some people headcanon them as both autistic so that’s cool they can like sympathise with each other!!

•I headcanon fumikage to know sign language so if koda goes non verbal then they can communicate!!

•ALSO. animal based quirk x animal based human!!

•both of their favourite animals are probably birds and I love that

•BUT I don’t know much about koda enough and I don’t see much content of this ship :((

Overall: 3/10

I LOVE ALL SHIPS WITH TOKOYAMI REALLY (except for one..looking at you hawks x tokoyami😟😟) AS LONG AS THEYRE LEGAL AND HEALTHY!!

[hellaversity]

At first I had a hard time understanding why Stolas is so attracted to Blitzø until I saw this scene for the first time :

Like, hot damn. That voice tho. It also made me understand the appeal of the daddy kink, which I didn't think was ever possible. Then there's that scene in The Circus where they reunite at the Not Divorced Yet party and Blitzø seduces Stolas with all that rizz and talking in a low, sexy sounding voice and whispering. And like :

This man can look legitimately attractive as long as the animation and art style will allow him to be. It's just that most of the time, it sadly doesn't. Though keep in mind this isn't even all the screenshots where Blitzø looks good.

Exes and Oohs made me understand Stolas even more, cuz goddamn, Blitzø rocks that jacket better than Chaz does. Let's not forget all the official merchandise where Blitzø is barely covered up in seductive poses with bedroom eyes, yet the writers of this show are trying to make me think that this man is ugly because Moxxie says so?

Looks aside tho, Blitzø got that "no fucks given" attitude and that confidence which is attractive on it's own. This man has more rizz than most Hollywood actors, and if Stolas' lewd comments are anything to go by he's got a really big dong and is great at sex too. So, even if Blitzø doesn't LOOK conventionally "hot" by most people's standards, his bad boy aura, sexual energy and sheer, unadulterated badassery cancels that out makes him still hot regardless of what he looks like.

[raveneira]

I read the manga and Sarada's character is getting more and more astonishing, oh my god I don't understand anymore her life is only about Boruto, Boruto and Boruto like there is no character development at all she even only thinks about Boruto as if she forgot about Sumire who is beside her that girl I don't understand her character any more. I followed the manga and it became increasingly uncontrollable, very ridiculous, I also sent it with Kawaki and by God, I was very annoyed with the passengers on the sibling ship, they treated everything as if it was just for them, banned all ships and spoke ill of my ship like ksa & bsu, I don't understand So what does the official art mean which always puts them next to each other? What does the camellia flower and the like mean or what does Sumire's feelings mean which has been emphasized many times for Boruto not to mention yesterday's cover? With Boruto, is it not enough to board this ship? what do you think? I'm very annoyed with all the nonsense of people who don't actually know how to read manga or don't, plus the fake news they give so that everyone will believe it, gosh, I just want to see the progress of Sarada and Kawaki, I'm fed up with that girl who seems like she was just made to revolve around boruto characters looks annoying like that

No fr, ppl keep acting like oh your just mad about the ship when its so much more than that, this has gone BEYOND the ship atp, Sarada has completely lost all individuality, all autonomy, everything about her, has all been thrown away in favor of making her some OOC Boruto obsessed MESS.

Like look at this shit

Sarada learns about her fathers past OFF SCREEN and the only reason shes talking about it is to defend Boruto, not her father, but just to say shes defending Boruto the way Naruto defended Sasuke, I must emphasize that her father is considered a traitor too but thats not who shes riding or dying for.

Sarada is so careless and hyperfixated on clearing Borutos name that she stupidly almost blows their cover, forgetting that Ada is not their FRIEND or their ALLY but the literal got danm enemy, yet her mind is so fixated on a danm boy shes not even registering that in her head when shes talking to Ada, the one who actually remembers their mission is Sumire and SHES the one who stops Ada's suspicions, Sarada literally just sat there lookin stupid not saying anything because apparently if it isnt about Boruto she dont know how to open her mouth.

Even though Code is technically talking about Kawaki here, its still disgusting that Sarada's first encounter with Code is literally just for him to ask her where Boruto is, and then try to use her as bait to lure him out thats only there for Boruto to swoop in and have a 'chad' moment and essentially tell Code this is why he gets no bitches.

This is all only just Sarada's first appearance in the timeskip and its literally all about Boruto, not a single bit of her panel time wasnt about Boruto.

But theres 14 chapters so lets see how the other 13 goes.

Her first time seeing Boruto in 3 years and he returns without Sasuke, what does she do? Boruto tells her to leave and go help the civilians, Sarada asks if hes sure, he says yea and like an obedient dog she does as shes told never once asking where her father is, only if hes sure he wants to deal with Code alone.

She lets her guard down in the middle of an invasion and gets somebody nommed trying to protect her, this isnt inherently a big deal on its own but this will not be the first or the last time this happens.

She makes this stupid remark, once again, acting like Ada is their friend and ally when shes actually the got danm enemy, even if Ada did confirm it it wouldnt matter anyway because they'd just not believe her just like they dont believe Sarada about his innocence, and even if they did believe it Sarada's attitude here is stupid af because she talks as if their stupid for suspecting Boruto just cuz shes the only one with blind faith in him. Its not exactly a good look that Boruto literally says hes trying to make a deal with Code, their enemy, so for her to act like their suspicions are unfounded just cuz she blindly trusts him is stupid.

Not only that but her comback at Kawaki is also unwarranted because she knew danm well what he meant but is purposefully acting oblivious because she, like everyone else before omnipotence, DOESNT wanna face the reality that Boruto is a got danm threat, hes not JUST Boruto anymore, he is LITERALLY Boruto Otsutsuki, an Otsutsuki 100%, his and Momos dna have merged to the point that their minds were starting to become one, his karma has worsened to the point where now Boruto cannot even use it without losing control.

Sure Sarada doesnt know that part yet, but what she DOES know is that hes 100% Otsutsuki, that Momoshiki has taken over his body numerous times, that he stabbed her fathers eye, tried to kill Naruto and Kawaki more than once, that Boruto himself WILLINGLY sacrificed himself, begging Kawaki to kill him so that he wouldnt lose control again and kill the ppl he loves, she saw Momo take over again with her own eyes to save Kawaki, yet she has the audacity to compare Kawaki being Otsutsuki to Boruto being Otsutsuki when hes not the one at risk of being taken over and killin everybody.

She makes this equally goofy remark that she wont let him have his way in Konoha, which is hilarious because for 3 years straight that exactly what he's done, hes completely had his way in Konoha while shes been totally ignored and made ZERO progress, so shes talkin a big game but actions speak louder than words, shes all bark and no bite.

She conveniently doesnt acknowledge what Kawaki says here either because she doesnt care, she doesnt wanna acknowledge that Kawaki is right about the threat Boruto is, she doesnt wanna acknowledge that Kawaki isnt just some cold hearted evil guy who just wanna kill all Otsutsuki, and Boruto, for the lolz, but is actually going above and beyond trying to protect everyone in the way he genuinely feels in right.

Sarada is in an extreme case of denial to the point she doesnt even acknowledge reality, notice how at no point not even in part one does she acknowledge the threat that Boruto is or the things he has done while he was possessed, she, like Boruto, kept and in her case still IS pretending that everything is fine when its NOT.

This is by far where Sarada is at her worst, the one and only time she speaks about her dad is simply recalling how he managed to believe her despite omnipotence, the ONE time she thinks about her dad and its about her being able to convince him to save Boruto, NOT the fact that Boruto came back without him and wondering how he is, no, just how her dad believed her about Boruto. Oh but it gets so much worse.

Boruto isnt being specific here, ppl can try to twist it all they want but all Boruto says here is that Sasuke risked his life to save his, I must emphasize this is the SECOND time now Boruto has returned without her dad, and now hes saying how he risked his life to save his, WTF DO YOU THINK THATS IMPLYING HERE? anybodys first thought would be that Sasuke DIED because if he didnt why didnt he come back with Boruto? Boruto is being vague af, he says that Sasuke believed in him, that he risked his life to save his, and Sasuke is nowhere to be found as hes saying this, there is literally NO other way to read this than Boruto implying that Sasuke is dead.

And what does Sarada do?

She knows how Sumire feels about Boruto btw.

This...is absolutely disgusting, if Boruto had left on his own this whole time then this scene wouldnt be bad at all, she was worried about her friend and is happy to see him alive and well, but thats not what happened.

Sarada begs her father in literal tears to go save Boruto, she awakens her MS from that desperate request which is what convinces Sasuke to leave behind EVERYTHING, his wife, his home, his daughter, all to protect a kid he doesnt even remember and believes killed his best friend solely because his daughter asked him to, and for 3 years Sasuke and Boruto have been missing with their status unknown until Boruto comes back, but he comes back ALONE which wouldnt happen unless something bad happened to Sasuke.

With this context, having Boruto return twice without Sasuke, and then implying he was dead, you would think his daughter would ask what happened to him? is he ok? but she not only doesnt ask, but she CUTS BORUTO OFF to hug him and ask what took him so long...

Oh but it somehow gets even WORSE, because THIS is what she thinks after the fact.

Dis-gust-ing, like legitimately disgusting, shes sitting there fixating on being embarrassed about the hug and then has the audacity to say to herself that theres so many things she wants to ask but doesnt know how to start.

Maybe you wouldnt have had to worry about that IF YOU HAD JUST FKING LISTENED TO HIM WHEN HE WAS TRYING TO TELL YOU.

Also idc how embarrassed she is about the hug, it is absolutely ABYSMAL writing that she doesnt think to ask about her dad even once, she literally DOES NOT CARE. The fact that she was so awkward that Sumire had to break the ice because once again Sarada apparently forgot how to talk but had no problem running into Borutos arms calling him stupid and askin what took him so long, but now that its time to ask about her dad? suddenly shes mute.

Do you know how crazy it is that she had more of an reaction to Boruto teasing her about the hug than she did hearing her dad had been turned into a tree? idc if he is alive, having zero reaction to your father, who YOU sent away which is what allowed this to happen, to have zero reaction to him being trapped in a tree because of YOUR request is absolutely disgusting.

Whats worse is Sasuke's final words before sacrificing himself were for Boruto to look after her, his final thoughts were literally of his daughter and wanting her to be safe, but Sarada? 0 thoughts or care about him

Do you know how crazy it is that BORUTO had to be the one to bring up her father again because she didnt? it took Boruto bringing it up a second time for her to finally ask about him, if Boruto didnt bring it up again, Sarada would've continued going back and forth about the stupid hug.

Boruto pretty much confirms hes the one whos gonna settle things with her dad, the fact that he says this with zero consideration of her speaks volumes all on its own, like what do you mean you'll save Sasuke? shouldnt Sarada be included in that? I mean it IS her dad right? but nah of course she isnt gonna be involved in that plot, because its not about Sasuke, Sarada's father, its about Sasuke, Boruto's master.

The plot isnt about daughter rescuing father, nor is it about father protecting daughter, its about Boruto atoning for his guilt of getting his master who he idolized in this situation, and making it up to Sarada who sent Sasuke his way in the first place, it is about Boruto honoring Sasuke's final wishes.

I want you to really think about that, a plotline about rescuing Sasuke is more about Boruto than it is Sarada and shes being left out of the plot altogether.

Well not totally

She's his tree clones target to devour, which is once again more about Boruto than it is her cuz its used to have her be a damsel in distress for Boruto to pull a cool last second heroic save.

Now this moment isnt inherently bad on its own...if not for everything that happened leading up to it.

Sumire warns that Sarada is the target, Sarada gets distracted and zapped anyway

Sumire is worried about her and trying to get her to move, but Sarada is paralyzed and unable to

One of the jonin that tried to protect her is burned to death in flames

Konohamaru tries to protect her but is knocked back

Sumire continues trying to get Sarada to move and is zapped unconscious

All of this happens before Boruto gets there, I must emphasize that Sarada was paralyzed and unable to move that whole time which is why 3 ppl got bodied trying to protect her, yet as soon as Boruto got there all of a sudden she was able to move and help fight.

She couldnt help ANYBODY ELSE who were trying to protect her, no she was crippled, couldnt move, couldnt help anyone who was trying to help her, but as SOON as Boruto arrives all of a sudden shes on her feet and able to assist him.

Dont you think its awful odd that she finally got the 'strength' to fight again only when it was to help Boruto get the win? oh and lets not forget the total lack of gratitude she had for anyone that tried to help her but Boruto, one of which literally DIED for her and yet she feels zero guilt, remorse, or gratitude for their efforts.

Imagine saying this to the ppl who just got their ass whooped to protect you, Sumire was so worried about Sarada that she didnt even pay attention to the enemy approaching her, and Konohamaru got knocked back when trying to protect her and barely escaped with his life if he hadnt reacted in time, yet the ONLY ONE who matters in her rescue is Boruto, he's the only one she gives any credit for her life being spared, idc if the rest failed, they still TRIED to help her and one literally DIED, yet she gives zero fks about any of them.

So when ppl try to pretend that this is just about ships, that oh your just mad because its not your ship, your just mad bsa is winning and your not, its complete bullshit and they know it too, they just pretend they dont cuz it works in their favor and thats all that matters to them.

This is about way more than ship preference, this is about blatant character assassination and bad writing that is objectively abysmal no matter how you look at it.

Even when going to the battlefield before it was even known Boruto is there, who does Sarada think about? Himawari, JUST Himawari despite knowing team 10 is there too, which includes Chocho, her bestie, but apparently she doesnt matter to her anymore because of a boy, so the only conclusion I can make for her worry for Himawari is the fact that shes Boruto's sister, because she danm sure didnt care about anyone else there in the same danger she was.

If you wanna know how how bad Sarada's writing is compare her writing to the other girls so far, Sumire is still working with Amado, asking him about Kawaki, trying to get intel outta him, shes also the one whos still conscious of their mission of eventually killing Ada and plays along to not blow their cover.

Chocho, with the rest of team 10, is helping to train Himawari and have seemed to been looking after her over the 3 years since her parents disappearance, and in her fight with Jura Chocho refused to leave her and had to be convinced, the two then promise to go get pancakes together which Himawari says is her fave

Himawari is shown believing in Boruto (Kawaki) despite everyone elses doubts, believing her father is still alive, working hard to get stronger so she could help her brother and her new friends [team 10] and she awakened Kuramas power due to her wanting to protect and save Inojin who almost died protecting her.

Notice how all of them have thoughts, feelings, goals, things going on outside of just Boruto?

The final nail in the coffin is her dressing like this mf, even with Mitsuki being as obsessed with Boruto as he is never sunk this low as to dress like him, even with him not believing his 'sun' is Kawaki, you dont see him dressing up as Kawaki either, this is literally just a Sarada exclusive thing which is just so bad for her character its pathetic.

Fk Ikemoto for what he did to her, there is no excuse or justification for this.

So what does the official art mean which always puts them next to each other? What does the camellia flower and the like mean or what does Sumire's feelings mean which has been emphasized many times for Boruto not to mention yesterday's cover? With Boruto, is it not enough to board this ship? what do you think?

Unfortunately I cant answer this, cuz its become clear since this interview that the anime team and Ikemoto were not on the same page AT ALL and essentially were tellings two different stories so even I dont know whats real, still canon, and whats not anymore. We just gotta wait and see.

For now its safe to say it still means what we thought until confirmed otherwise, so for not just stick to that until further notice.