#it's like i feel like i'm more of the people's friends than they are mine in a way

[brickmvster]

An Old Flame (Leon Kennedy x Reader)

Synopsis: After getting hammered at a club in attempts to repair a broken heart, in your drunken stupor, you call the one person you were trying to get over. He takes you back to his place, taking care of you, and it's then you realize that your feelings for him never quite dissipated.

Tags: breaking up and making up/exes to lovers, angst, fluff, a little bit of emotional hurt/comfort that goes both ways, reconciliation

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of alcohol consumption

Word Count: 6,311

Author's Note: I'm alive 😭 writer's block sucks, but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of things, I think. I hope you guys enjoy this!! Notes and reblogs are appreciated of course. This has been proofread, but if any mistakes still managed to slip by me, apologies in advance, they're all mine.

I imagined RE4R Leon while writing this but please feel free to imagine any version of him you'd like!

(Read on AO3)

Sobbing in a dirty bathroom stall was definitely not how you envisioned your Friday night going.

The fact that you were also considerably drunk and could feel the liquid sloshing around inside of your belly, threatening to come up your throat and all over the floor, certainly didn't make matters any better.

You had come to the club with a group of friends who were all far more enthusiastic than you to be there. You never considered yourself much of a party person; and if you were going to attend a party, it was always a small one with people that you knew or were at least acquaintances with. At a dingy nightclub, you were surrounded by hundreds of sweaty strangers, and the music was so loud that you were sure you were going to be temporarily deaf for a while. To make the long story short – you weren't looking forward to coming here, but you regrettably let your friends drag you out of the comfort of your home.

The stupid leather pants your friends insisted you wore were feeling too tight. The bathroom was so stuffy and unbearably hot. There were two individuals in the stall next to you engaging in… a certain activity that you really didn't want to be around to hear. And the awful, terrible smell of puke was probably one of the worst things you've ever smelled in your entire life. It was all too much, every single one of your five senses being mercilessly attacked.

You shouldn't have let yourself get wasted; you knew that, and you mentally cursed yourself for such reckless behavior. But the longer you sat at the bar, completely by yourself and with your friends nowhere in sight, it was like no one was there to stop you. You still missed him and you thought alcohol would be better at numbing the pain than a tub of ice cream. Both were terrible items for getting over a heartbreak because they both only made you want to vomit, which is something you always learned the hard way.

That's how you ended up in a stall, tears freely running down your cheeks in a drunken haze. Your friends were on your mind, but more than anything you just wanted to be carried out of here. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and opened up your contacts. But for some reason, instead of clicking on one of your friend's names, you kept scrolling further down, subconsciously searching for that specific name that you knew you should've just deleted a long time ago.

You clicked on the little phone icon, and listened attentively to the ringing on the other end. It rang and rang and rang, and it went on for so long that it almost snapped you out of the very stupid thing you were doing, but then–

"Hello?"

Leon actually answered. And even after all this time, his voice was still the most soothing sound in the world. You cleared your throat before attempting to put together a sentence in response.

"Hey… I'm… I'm, uh, in a gross bathroom at, um… fuck, what was the name of this place…" you trailed off, your cheeks heating up out of embarrassment. You rubbed your forehead, trying to think despite how hard it was to do.

Leon was silent for a bit on the other end before speaking up.

"___? Are you okay? It's… really late."

You chuckled, a burp coming out alongside the sound. "I know, right? What the fuck am I even doing here?"

"___, listen to me. Are you alright? Why did you call?" Leon asked. You could just faintly hear shuffling on the other end, and the unmistakable sound of keys jingling, as if he was already gathering his things before you even told him the location. Your heart fluttered at that and even more warmth was sent to your cheeks.

"No. No, I'm not alright. I feel really fucking sick right now and I don't know where my friends are and I fucking hate being here and-"

"Slow down, sweetheart," Leon said. If the alcohol didn't kill you, the pet name that Leon apparently still liked using for you would.

Leon fell quiet on the line, almost as if suddenly realizing the word that had slipped from his mouth.

"Sorry, I mean– look, tell me where you are. Do you want me to come and get you?"

There was a voice in your head screaming at you to just say no. Your friends were a text message away. If they saw the state you were in they'd take you home in a heartbeat. You knew the right thing to do was apologize to Leon, hang up, and get your ass out of the bathroom stall to find your group. But the alcohol was clouding your judgment, and the rational part of you simply didn't exist right now. Going back to Leon's apartment was like reopening a wound that had just healed. But you couldn't deny how much you needed him in this moment, no matter how pathetic it sounded. He had been on your mind the entire time you were at the club, and hell, even if you had been sober you probably would have ended up back at his place anyway. Because you simply didn't know how to stay away from things that you walked away from.

"Yes. Please come and get me." You replied softly, your words shaky with sorrow and guilt, your voice cracking.

"On my way. Stay put, okay?"

____

"___?"

Your eyes opened slowly. The side of your mouth felt wet with drool. Your brows furrowed as you took in your surroundings.

"___, are you in here?"

Your eyes widened a bit more upon registering whose voice was calling for you. You immediately sat up, trying to adjust your hair and straighten your shirt – before quickly giving up, because you knew no amount of adjusting would make you look like less of a hot mess.

"In here," you called out, not bothering to get up and open the door as your legs felt like they didn't work and any small movement would've caused you to expel your breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

You saw two feet stop right in front of the door. You recognized those boots anywhere. They were your favorite pair.

"Are you… decent? Can I open the door?" Leon asked. You nodded, before quickly realizing he can't hear the movement of your head.

"Yeah," you replied weakly. Leon did just that, opening the stall door slowly.

God, you wanted the ground to swallow you up right then and there. You knew you looked terrible, disgusting even. Your ex, on the other hand, still looked as gorgeous as ever, with his dirty blonde hair slightly longer than the last time you saw it and prettily falling into his deep blue eyes. He was wearing a form fitting black shirt that left nothing to the imagination with a pair of blue jeans and his expensive brown coat.

You averted your gaze out of pure embarrassment. Leon had never seen you in this state and you wish he hadn't. You wished you could turn back time and call your friends instead of him.

Leon kneeled in front of you in the cramped space, gently lifting your chin and making you look him in the eyes. The action only made you feel smaller.

"Hey, let me see you," he started, his gaze softening as he observed you.

"What happened? Nobody-" his jaw clenched. "Nobody did anything to you, right?"

You shook your head. You didn't trust your voice enough to speak.

"Okay, good. You just drank too much?"

You nodded that time.

Leon seemed physically relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit as he stood back up. He held out his hand.

"Can you stand?" He asked. You muttered out something that sounded like a "yes," taking his hand and slowly rising off the toilet seat. You almost toppled over, but Leon was there to steady you.

"Put your arm around my shoulder." He instructed, but he was already moving your arm for you. You gladly took ahold of his shoulder as his hand held your wrist; his other arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly. The two of you walked out of the bathroom together, ignoring the stares from other club goers.

The both of you made outside, and the cool air was a pleasant sensation to your extremely warm body. Leon helped you into your car, handling you like you were made of glass, before getting into the driver's side himself. He buckled you up first, leaning over you to pull the strap across your chest. His breath was fanning across your face, and you felt your heart rate skyrocket. You gazed at him with tired eyes, and he returned the eye contact briefly, his eyes mostly unreadable, but definitely filled with concern no less.

Once he was buckled up himself, he took off, and you just closed your eyes, hoping and praying that the motion of the car wouldn't cause any sudden hurling.

The car ride was mostly silent; aside from the radio that Leon had turned up slightly, playing some rock song, you were far too exhausted to say anything. You didn't even know what to say, anyway, and it seemed like Leon didn't either.

Eventually, when he stopped at a light, he spoke for the first time in several long minutes. "Your friends – did they abandon you?"

You shook your head. "No… I was the one who split from them. Told them I wanted to be alone."

"But they didn't even check on you?"

You glanced at him and noticed his tense jaw had returned, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"They're all probably shit-faced, too." You replied dryly.

Leon sighed. "I… sure, I guess. Then that brings me to my next question… Why did you go over your limit? You could've put yourself in danger."

You shrugged, gazing out the window.

"I really don't know," you lied.

"God, ___, don't do something like this again. Please." Leon replied.

"I'm… sorry." You said. What you were apologizing for exactly, you weren't sure. For worrying him? For making him come all the way out here to save you like a damsel in distress? The more you thought about it, the more you leaned toward all of the above.

Leon seemed to relax again upon hearing your soft-spoken apology. "There's no need for that, I just…" a sigh. "You should rest. We're almost home."

Home.

You let your eyes slowly drift closed again. The last thing you saw was the sight of Leon driving with one hand, still wearing that unreadable expression.

____

Leon was quick to help you out the car after finding a parking spot. He guided you up the steps to the second floor of the complex, walking to his door. You leaned against him while he fiddled with his keys.

He eventually got the door open, helping you walk through the door. As he walked you through his living room to the bathroom, rather slowly as your feet were slightly dragging across the floor, you took in the familiar space around you. Leon's apartment was, of course, just how you remembered it. He had few decorations, most of them put up by you. His raggedy, but deceptively comfortable couch was somehow still standing strong. His place looked well lived-in; not terribly disorganized, just slightly cluttered. Given the nature of his career and how often he was away, he was never home long enough to let huge messes pile up anyway. You felt a smile tug at your lips as memories crawled back into your mind.

You remembered shopping with Leon for his decorations shortly after you moved in. He pretended to be indifferent, but you'll never forget the grin on his face as he helped you hang up some abstract paintings with poorly hidden amusement. That very couch was often where you spent your time resting your head on Leon's shoulders, or sometimes his head on your lap. The now spotless kitchen was where you and Leon made huge messes together, doing more kissing than cooking.

But your smile slightly faded as memories of the tail end of your relationship tainted your mind. Waiting alone for Leon to return home for a mission, worrying yourself sick. Sometimes Leon was distant, going from attentive and caring to cold and unresponsive in a heartbeat. You knew his trauma made it difficult for him to be fully present in the relationship – but sometimes you acted harshly anyway, both out of frustration and out of concern. His career was eating away at you, too.

The sound of running water pulled you out of your thoughts. You quickly registered that Leon had sat you down on his toilet. After wetting a washcloth, he leaned down in front of you again.

"I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" He said. You nodded, closing your eyes.

Leon wiped your face with the washcloth ever so gently, dabbing away dried drool and removing the light sweat that had formed across your forehead. He even went as far as to brush your teeth for you, thoroughly reaching every inch of your mouth to the best of his ability. Somehow, even during this, you found yourself dozing off a few times.

"You don't have to wash up now if you're too tired." Leon said once he had finished a portion of your nighttime routine for you. He stood in front of you while you were still seated, waiting for your next move.

You wanted nothing more than to wish the stink of the nightclub off your skin, but your eyelids were getting heavier by the second.

"Take me to bed, Leon." You muttered, wrapping your hands around his waist and leaning against his torso.

Leon found himself grinning at how much of a koala you became when sleepy and drunk. With one hand, he played with your hair for a bit as you continued holding him. You sighed contently as you felt yourself slip away in the sensation. Leon looked down at you, feeling something tug at his heart strings at how vulnerable you looked like this. The warmth from your arms around his waist brought Leon to a painful realization – that he missed your touch more than he thought.

Leon tried to store that thought away. You'd be gone by the morning, right? He couldn't allow himself to open up to you after all this time. You had made the choice to walk away and as far as he knew, you hadn't changed your mind.

He gently tapped your arms, causing you to stir a bit.

"If you want me to take you to bed, you have to get up first." He said teasingly. You groaned, but reluctantly did what he asked. Even while standing, your eyes were barely open.

"Do you wanna change?” He asked.

“Into what?” You said sleepily, words slurring together.

“I can give you one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. I don't mind.”

You just nodded, leaning into Leon's side, your head falling onto his shoulder.

Leon walked you to his bedroom, grabbing some clothes for you as you stood there patiently, your eyes half open. He gave you an old shirt of his and some gray sweatpants.

You began stepping out of your gross nightclub clothes right in front of Leon, who didn't seem to mind – he helped keep you from stumbling as you got dressed.

“This is so much better.” You said, feeling free and unconstrained now that you were out of those awful leather pants. Leon found himself holding back a grin at the way you were happily rubbing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Let's get you to bed.” He spoke.

He assisted you in getting cozy under the large comforter, even going as far as to tuck you in.

Leon's scent washed over you as you sunk into the softness of his mattress. You almost instantly succumbed to slumber, subconsciously burying your head into Leon's pillow.

For a long time, Leon just stared.

You were safe now, finally out of that awful nightclub and resting comfortably. He felt the tension leave his body, and he could finally go about his nightly routine at ease knowing you were taken care of.

Seeing you in his bed like this reminded him of the nights he came home late. Those nights, he'd crawl into bed next to you, holding you close as if you'd disappear into thin air. Strangely, despite the fact that he was looking directly at you, this was another moment where he felt like you'd cease to exist if he so much as looked away.

But he eventually forced himself to look away, sighing to himself as he went back to the bathroom to freshen up himself. He decided to sleep on the couch, falling asleep with you in his mind and still feeling the phantom touch of your arms around his waist.

____

Upon slowly opening your eyes, squinting slightly at the sunlight filtering through the room, it didn't take you long to notice the splitting headache that pulsated uncomfortably right behind your eyes. You also took note of the fact that you were clad in Leon's clothing.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, your face bunching up in pain at your awful hangover. You were mentally chastising yourself, as you knew that this terrible headache could've been easily avoided had you not gone past your limit the night before. It was at the moment, as you were lying on your back and staring at the familiar sight of Leon's apartment ceiling, that all of the memories from last night came rushing back to you.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, feeling a sense of shame wash over you. You barely remember anything from last night, but you knew that when you were shit-faced you turned into a giant child, and you were already feeling apologetic for putting Leon through your drunken antics. You didn't even want to get out of bed and face the man.

So, you did just that; you lied there for a few extra minutes, absolutely dreading the moment when you would have to get up eventually. You sighed, rolling over on your side, facing the closed bedroom door. It was then that you noticed the tall glass of water and bottle of painkillers on the bedside table.

You sat up slowly, feeling your heart warm at Leon's thoughtfulness. You took one pill from the bottle, swallowing it down in one large gulp of water.

You also noticed your phone on the table. Curiously, you checked to see if your phone was even alive – which it was, much to your surprise, but the battery was low. You saw numerous text messages from your acquaintances last night. Some of them were just talking about how much fun they had and thanking you for coming out. Others seem concerned about where you had gone. You didn't feel like replying to any of them, so you promptly shut your phone off. You needed to save your battery, anyway, as you didn't have a charger. You left your phone in its place on the table.

You sat in Leon's bed for a little longer after that, sighing to yourself, before getting up to go find where he was.

You didn't have to look very far after opening the door; there Leon stood in the kitchen, occupied with making breakfast. It seemed like he didn't notice your presence at first, so you took that opportunity to gaze at him, grinning softly at the concentrated look on his face as he flipped over a pancake, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked cuter than ever, clad in his well-loved plaid pajama pants and a loose black shirt. It felt strange, seeing him like this again after so many months.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Leon suddenly spoke, still turned away from you. You were slightly startled, quickly averting your gaze.

“Morning,” you said softly. “Did you know I was standing here the whole time?”

“Of course I did,” Leon replied, finally turning to you with a pretty smile on his face, one that you couldn't help but immediately return. “Government training helped me with my awareness, y'know.”

You chuckled at that, making your way over to the dining table and taking a seat. Resting your chin in your hand, you watched Leon lovingly, a comfortable silence settling between you.

“Need a hand with anything?” you asked.

“Nah, it's alright. I'm almost done, anyway.” Leon replied. “By the way, how did you sleep?”

“Like a baby. I forgot how comfortable your bed was.” you said.

Leon grinned. “That's good. And your head?”

“It's feeling better. Thanks for the medicine, by the way.”

“Of course.” Leon replied.

Eventually, he carried to the table two plates of food, along with two tall glasses of orange juice. It was a simple breakfast, consisting of just pancakes, but it was totally fine by you. They looked fluffy and perfectly cooked and you didn't hesitate to dive in.

Leon just watched you eat in silence, a small grin on his face as he watched you do a little happy dance upon taking a bite. He wasn't really showing it, but he was very pleased with himself; not just because he made you a decent plate of pancakes but because you were here with him, out of that grimy nightclub, content and being taken care of. Leon felt a tug at his heartstrings as he realized just how much he missed taking care of you.

“Leon. Are you gonna eat?” you said with a chuckle, nearly done with your food. Leon seemed to snap out of whatever trance you had put him in, quickly glancing at his untouched plate of food.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He said in a slightly bashful way that made you swoon. He finally had begun eating, thoughtfully chewing, taking his time.

You leaned back in your chair, feeling completely satiated. For a while, the two of you just sat in comfortable silence. It dawned on you that eventually you'd have to leave, sadness beginning to wash over you like waves.

“What's the matter?” Leon suddenly spoke. “Be honest, were the pancakes actually terrible?” He said jokingly. That got you smiling again, and you let out a small, half-hearted laugh.

“Leon, they were fucking amazing,” you replied sincerely. You smiled then faltered a bit. “I just… I still feel bad.”

Leon, who was also sitting lax in his chair, had straightened up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he gazed warmly at you.

“About?” He inquired.

You sighed, looking down at your lap. Suddenly eye contact was too much right now.

“For last night. I know I've already apologized but… seriously, I'm really sorry for making you drive all the way out there. And for worrying you.”

Leon shook his head, looking at you with an expression that could only be read as sympathetic.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again – you don't have to apologize, okay? If anything, I'm glad you called me. It meant that you trusted me to ensure your safety; and that made me feel good.”

You felt your heart warm at that. You continued to stare down at your lap, twiddling your thumbs, still hesitant to let him into your gaze.

“Can you look at me? Please?” Leon said ever so softly. The gentle, almost desperate tone of voice was enough to get you to finally raise your head and meet his eyes.

“There you are,” he said fondly. “I want you to know that you can always call me. For anything. And if you need me, I'll be there. We're not… together anymore but that doesn't mean I'm just gonna step out of your life, okay? I still care about you. Always will.”

You were effectively silenced, so deeply touched by Leon's words that you couldn't even produce any of your own. Suddenly your vision began to blur and your bottom lip was quivering.

Your friends – really, just your co-workers – who had practically forgotten about you at that club? They probably didn't care about you all like they claimed to. But if there was one person that would always stand up for you, help you, tend to your needs – it was Leon. It had always been him.

With a shaky voice, you responded, “Thank you, Leon. I… still care about you, too. So much. I totally owe you after last night.” you said with a playful smile, although you were honestly very serious.

“No, it's okay. You don't owe me anything. I was just doing what a good friend is supposed to do.”

Friend.

You brushed the word off, ignoring the pang of disappointment that hit you. You simply smiled at him.

Clearing your throat, you started another topic. “So, um… I guess since I'm here, we should catch up a bit. It's been so long since I've last spoken to you.”

Leon shrugged. “Honestly? I don't have much to catch you up on. I've just been doing what I always do, lounging around, working, occasionally going out with Claire and Chris. You know me, I'm a boring guy.”

“You are not at all boring, Kennedy,” you said teasingly.

“You know, it's okay to admit it.” He replied, and you could only shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

“You're literally a government agent. That's the opposite of boring.”

“Well, what a lot of people don't know is that being a government agent also comes with a shit-ton of paperwork.”

“I suppose,” you said with a completely playful roll of your eyes. “Anyway, Claire and her brother doing well?”

“They're doing great. They're always asking about you.”

You felt guilt begin to rear its ugly head at Leon's comment. “I haven't spoken to them in a while too… God, I'm terrible.” You said.

“Hey, don't make it a huge deal. They know how busy you are. They still care about you too. You could go a thousand years without speaking to them and they'd still be excited to hear from you.”

“That's nice to know.” You replied. You made it a mental note to get in contact with them soon.

The dining table fell quiet again. There was this undeniable tension in the air, one that the two of you couldn't shake. As much as you hated to admit it, you had missed sitting at Leon's dining table, sitting across from him specifically, sharing peaceful mornings together. You knew that eventually you'd have to leave; you'd part ways with Leon once more. You wish you could say that'd be easy to do.

Leon pulled you out of the recesses of your mind when he suddenly stood up, grabbing the two plates and cups. You silently watched as he went over to the sink, turning on the faucet.

Without even thinking, you stood up as well, joining him in the kitchen.

“Let me help you,” you said, not even giving him the choice.

Leon shook his head, like you knew he would. “It's alright, I got it. I know you've probably got things to do, so I understand if you need to go-”

“Things to do? Like what?” You interrupted with a playful grin. “I want to help, Leon, please.”

“It's only a few dishes.”

“I know– look, stop being so stubborn and let me help. Please.” You said, taking a plate out of his hand and grabbing a washcloth to help with drying. Leon just chuckled, having paused his washing for a bit to admire you.

“You haven't changed.” He spoke.

“What do you mean?” You asked as you put the plate back in its respective cabinet. You didn't even need to ask where it went – it was muscle memory for you.

“I mean… always wanting to help with stuff. It's what I've always liked about you.” Leon replied, handing you a newly washed cup. You took it, slowly, still processing his words. You felt a certain warmth throughout your body, trying to distract yourself from the feeling by rather furiously drying the glass.

“That's just how I am. Can't help it.” You replied shyly, your voice coming out small.

“I know. You should consider being an agent since you like helping so much.” Leon teased. You were putting the glass up when he had said that and weren't looking directly at him, but you could hear the smirk in his voice. It made you smile.

“Absolutely not.” You replied immediately, to which the both of you broke out into laughter, the sound filling the kitchen.

The two of you finished doing the dishes fairly quickly, falling into an easy rhythm. It all felt too familiar. The both of you fell into your usual banter so easily, and it was almost like you two hadn't just spent months apart.

You ended up helping Leon clean his entire kitchen after the dishes, chatting with him every second and moving around each other with the sort of ease you can only get when you've spent enough time in one place to memorize everything. You told Leon that you didn't mind helping him knock out a few chores, which was true; you knew how busy he was and how he was usually too tired to take care of things like this himself. But deep down, the true reason why you were still here was because you just didn't want to leave. But you kept that part buried within you. It was difficult coming to terms with what that meant and you didn't want to think about it.

“Does anything else need tidying?” You asked him once you finished wiping the kitchen counter. Leon looked around, seemingly thinking for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Nah, it's all good. But I appreciate it.”

Your grin faltered a bit. You knew you had to go. You had been here for hours now.

“Ah, okay,” you said, trying to hide the dejection in your voice. “Well, um… I guess I should get out of your hair then.”

Leon perked up at that. “You don't have to leave.” He said quickly. He then cleared his throat, looking away. “I mean, uh– if you don't want to, you can stay as long as you want.”

You wanted to more than anything else. But the right thing would be to leave, even though that went against your heart's desires. Who knows what you'd end up saying– or doing– if you stayed. Whatever it'd be, you'd probably regret it.

“I should really go.” You said quietly. Leon just silently nodded. His expression was unreadable yet again.

After making sure you had all your belongings, and unfortunately having to change back into your cursed club outfit for the time being, you now stood in front of the door. Leon had changed out of his pajamas too, looking as handsome as ever in a simple pair of jeans, a black shirt, and boots.

Since your friends had driven you to the club, and Leon drove you to his place, he'd have to drive you back. You were waiting for him after he had said he had to find his keys. You took one long, final glance around his house as you stood there with a heavy heart.

Quite a bit of time had passed, though, and you were about to call out to Leon, as you noticed he seemed to be taking longer than you expected. You figured he just needed help searching for his keys, so you jogged over to his bedroom, where you saw him enter.

When you walked in, he was kneeling in front of a cardboard box. His closet door was open, so you presumed that's where the box came from. Your brows pinched together in confusion.

“Leon? I can help with finding your keys-”

“Oh, I have my keys. I just, um… suddenly remembered something.” He said, a bit cryptically.

You were still visibly puzzled. “Remembered what?” you asked, walking a bit closer to see the contents of the box. And then you realized.

In the box was some jewelry of yours, one of your shirts, and a bottle of perfume that you had forgotten at his home ages ago.

Your heart warmed at the fact that Leon kept them safe and tucked away in his closet, almost as if he was waiting for the day to return them to you.

“I completely forgot about these,” he said, standing up to face you. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I've been meaning to give these back.”

You just smiled, feeling so incredibly touched and endeared.

“It's okay, Leon. I didn't even realize I was missing these items.” You said with a chuckle. You kneeled down yourself, sifting through the contents of the box and reminiscing. The perfume especially reminded you of so many date nights and all the times Leon told you how nice you smelled.

“You know, that reminds me,” You began, feeling the cotton of your old, worn t-shirt that lay perfectly folded in the box. “I think I still have one of your sweatshirts. The old RPD one.”

You knew you did. It was still in your closet, hidden away. Not forgotten, just out of sight.

“You can keep it.” Leon said. “You looked better in it anyway.”

You felt that familiar heat rush to your face again. Even after all this time, his words still affected you.

“Well, um… thanks.” You replied.

“It's nothing.”

You stood up, holding the box, and the two of you walked back to the door. Every step felt heavier than the last.

You watched as Leon was about to open the door for you. But in that moment, as he was about to turn the knob, something within you snapped.

“Wait.” You said.

Leon paused, turning to look at you. “Did– did you forget something?” He asked.

You shook your head. You slowly put the box down on the floor, gently kicking it aside.

“I don't wanna leave, Leon.”

Leon still seemed perplexed. “I told you, you can stay as long as you-”

“No, I mean… I'm not leaving… again.”

It didn't take long for the realization to hit Leon. He was silent for a bit, unsure of how to proceed, or what to say.

“I need you to be more clear.” He said simply.

You stepped closer to him. You nearly reached your hand out, wanting to gently stroke his hair like you always used to do, but you weren't sure if he was ready to jump back into physical affection like that. You restrained yourself.

“I want to try again, Leon. I'm so sorry for how I treated you. At the time, I didn't understand your trauma – I failed to accommodate you. When I left… I realized how shitty I had been. How much I had missed you. I dated other people and none of them gave me what you did. You were too good to me and I was too selfish. I'm sorry, and I want you to know that I've grown. I will try my best to meet you where you are from now on if you just let me back in.”

You said all of this while staring directly into Leon's captivating eyes, sincerity in your tone and in the way you gazed at him. You hoped Leon could feel your guilt. Your remorse.

Leon just stared back, stunned into silence. You could tell his mind was racing, searching for what to say, processing everything you had told him. You were prepared for him to say no. You were bracing for the heartbreak. You wouldn't be upset, no. You'd be understanding. You were ready to leave for good if that's what he wanted.

But heartbreak isn't what you got.

“Thank you. For apologizing.” Leon said. “I should, too. I wasn't being totally honest about my line of work. And dating a government agent isn't necessarily an easy thing to handle. It was probably traumatic for you, too, seeing me come home so damaged, physically and mentally.

“And for the record, I don't think you were being selfish. You wanted to help, I know you did, you just didn't know how and it was frustrating.”

You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, your emotions nearly meeting their boiling point, tears threatening to spill. Deep down, you didn't think Leon had anything to apologize for, considering everything he's been through and seen, but you were appreciative of his apology nonetheless. It warmed your heart to know that he never resented you when you were together, like you always thought he did.

“So… should we try this again?” you said, a playful glint in your watery eyes.

Leon grinned. “We should.”

At that, you couldn't hold back any longer. You went in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck snugly. He wasted no time in wrapping his around your waist. Being back in his arms again felt like a dream.

You brought a hand up to his hair, running your fingers through it. You felt Leon relax even more at the soft touch.

With your lips close to his ear, you whispered:

“I never stopped loving you.”

Leon pulled away a bit, his hands just lightly resting on your waist.

“Neither did I.”

A pause. You felt his breath fan across your face.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked, already grinning like a lovesick teenager.

“Please.” Was all Leon said before you leaned in, your lips finding purchase on top of his, bodies pressed close together.

You had a hunch that making yourself at home again wouldn't be difficult at all.

[mywritersmind]

GOOD SIDE - FC43

summary : She hates him, he’s intrigued and doesn’t understand why anyone would distlike him. Franco tries to win Charles’ sister over with coffee and good racing.

listen up : no warnings!! my first franco fic <3

word count : 1067

⋆｡‧˚⋆

All eyes have been on Franco Colapinto for the past three weeks. All eyes including mine.

I watch the boy walk across the pit lane, grinning widely at his team. My arms are crossed in the ferrari garage, Charles is talking my ear off but I'm not even listening.

I miss my paddock best friend. All the boys on the grid are like my brothers, but Logan was genuinely my friend. I didn’t even go to Monza and fucked myself while boycotting because I missed my brother win.

I watch the team embrace the boy. I never realized how young he looks until now. He’s a year older than me, found that out when I was stalking his social media.

Charles noticed my stink eye and nudges me, “He’s a good kid. Don’t be mean!” I know Logan wasn’t performing well. I’m not blind.

But I can’t help but be salty for him.

“I won’t be mean.” I turn to see Alex and Franco walking towards us, I try to walk away but the hoodie for my sweatshirt is grabbed by Charles and I'm yanked backwards.

“Franco, This is my baby sister, Y/n!” Charles swings his arm around me, I roll my eyes and look back at Franco.

He’s cute and as he smiles at me I have a weird feeling that I need to make it stop. I turn to my new favorite william’s boy.

“Alex!” I smile wide and I can see my brother eyeing me already, “Nice Quali! Proud of you.”

He nods, “Appreciate it Y/n.” He glances at Franco, forcing me to say something. I give them what they want and look at him.

“Colapinto, is it?” I blink. “You’ve got an interesting driving style.”

Franco’s smile doesn’t falter. “Interesting enough to earn me P9.” My eyes narrow at him, “Nice to know you were watching me.”

I cross my arms but before I can say more, Charles interrupts me.

He laughs loudly, trying to drown out my voice, “Alright! Don't mind her, Franco, she’s been a little salty recently- well actually she’s always like this.” He shakes his head and leads the men in blue away.

Franco looks back at me as Alex starts talking rapidly, and I swear I’m hallucinating because I think he winks.

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I’m sitting on the pit wall, Susie is talking me through all the little buttons and graphs. Even though I'm Ferrari till I die, Susie is like family and has always been there for me. I feel an unexpected tap on my shoulder which makes me whip around.

I look down to see Franco holding two cups of coffee. “Morning Mrs. Wolff!” He smiles at Susie, then me. I didn’t even know he met her. My eyebrow is already raised, “Mind if I borrow Y/n?”

Susie laughs softly, looking at him then me, “Go ahead.” I get off the chair slowly and he motions for me to take the cup.

“Charles mentioned you liked coffee.” I hesitate for a second, taking the cup. I sip it and mentally groan because I’ve been needing to get some today.

“Buying my affection already, Huh?” I glance at him as we walk down the pit lane. I'm wearing a short, flowy, white dress and a Ferrari cap, happy since it's so hot.

“Don’t be silly, This was free.” I sip my coffee to stop myself from laughing, “I do have to get on your good side somehow.”

I look away from him, “You took my best friend's seat.”

“He lost it.” When I look back at him, he’s already looking at me.

I sigh and keep walking, he catches up quickly, “So… You’re Charles’ Sister.”

I flip my hair over my shoulder, “You’re sherlock?”

“You’re pretty.”

I let out a dry laugh, “You’re straightforward. I’ve seen three interviews of you flirting and you haven’t even made it to your second race yet.” He laughs and it makes me feel good that I made him do that.

“What can I say? The people love me.” He shrugs and it's my turn to laugh now.

“I’m sure your media crew hates you.”

“I can confirm they definitely do.” He stops when he gets to his garage, “I don’t want you too though.”

I take a breath, “Let’s see how you do in the race and we’ll see.” I hear someone yell his name from inside the garage.

He doesn’t move, “You base all your relationships off of driving results?”

“Relationships?” I scoff as he licks his lips, “Don’t get too cocky now.”

Franco shakes his head, a curl falling into his face, “Not cocky. Just a glass half full type of guy.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I hug Oscar as he walks out of his garage at the end of the day, “You fucking rocked it.” He laughs as I pull back, “Seriously, I'm proud and you beat my brother!”

Charles practically spawns, “We all know your loyalty is not to me.” All the boys have changed and are starting to leave. Carlos disappeared after crashing on the second to last lap but all I can do is smile for Lando who got bumped up to fourth.

Speaking of, Lando joins us with Franco by his side, his mouth running per usual. Everyone starts talking and congratulating Oscar again.

I find Franco by my side, he leans in slightly, “My result good enough for you?”

I look up at the sky, “Pretty good. I hate to say it but… you did well.”

He grins, “Well enough to get your number?”

I look to my brother to make sure he isn’t listening, “You’re playing with fire here, Colapinto.”

“Burn me.” He says it so quick that I almost don’t register the look on his face. He looks at me so genuinely with those hazel eyes and speaks again, “Por Favor? s'il te plaît? Please?”

The ‘Please’s’ makes me laugh. One in Spanish, one in Italian, and one in English to cover all his bases, “You’re such a flirt.”

“For you.”

“Don’t lie. You flirt with everyone.” I give him a look, he pulls a slow smile.

“If you were mine I'd never look at anyone else again.” Oddly enough, I believe him.

“If I were yours?” I step closer and he nods, “Hm… If I were yours- I think we would see pigs flying.”

He just grins, “I can arrange that.”

[reidsbookclub]

Foolish one – Spencer’s Version

To read y/n’s version click here

She was walking out of Hotch’s office the first time I saw her, my eyes directly focusing on her kind smile. What would it feel like to have a smile from her given to me? I was so focused on her I did not see Anderson walk in to the BAU kitchen, bumped into him and spilled my coffee on myself. This was not happening, clumsy Dr. Reid making an appearance today when she’s here why? Why must I always be the nerdy, lanky, clumsy genius that no girl ever likes.

As I scrambled to wipe the coffee from my shirt, I heard a soft chuckle from behind me. My heart rate picked up, and I knew who it was before even turning around.

"Are you okay?" Her voice was soft, laced with amusement but also genuine concern.

I turned, my face burning in embarrassment. Y/N stood there, her kind eyes sparkling in the fluorescent light of the BAU. Her hands were tucked into the sleeves of her sweater, giving her an endearing air of shyness, but her expression was open and warm.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Totally fine. Just... coffee and I are usually best friends but we are have a complicated relationship at the moment," I stammered, my words running together. My cheeks burned even more, and I could only hope she wouldn’t notice. Who was I kidding? She definitely noticed. She seemed to notice everything, with those observant eyes and that patient smile.

"Well, maybe coffee isn't the best for you right now," she teased gently, her eyes drifting to my stained shirt before meeting mine again. I was stunned for a moment, caught in the ease of our brief exchange.

I wanted to say something witty, something that would make her smile like that again—at me this time, not just at my misfortune. But instead, I could only manage an awkward laugh. The kind of laugh that would play over and over in my head later, keeping me awake.

"You know, if you need help getting that stain out, I have some tips," she added, nodding towards my shirt.

"Thanks, but I think it’s a lost cause. Kind of like me," I muttered the last part, hoping she didn’t hear. But of course, she did. Because why wouldn’t she?

Her brow furrowed slightly. "Lost cause? I don’t think so, Spencer."

She said my name so easily, and I couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it fit coming from her. It was in that moment, hearing her say my name like that—like I was someone worth knowing—that I realized how far gone I really was.

"I mean, it’s just a coffee stain," she continued, but there was something more in her tone, something that felt like reassurance. Something that made me feel like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t invisible to her.

But that was foolish thinking. A girl like her? She was out of my league in every possible way. She was confident, kind, and effortlessly charming. Me? I was the nerdy genius who spent more time with books than people.

I watched her walk away, heading back to her desk, but not without throwing me another small smile over her shoulder. My heart leapt, despite myself.

You are not the exception. You will never learn your lesson...

And I knew it. I knew she couldn’t possibly see me the way I saw her. But every time she smiled at me, I let hope creep in. Every kind word, every glance—it all made me hold on, even when I knew I shouldn’t.

Because maybe someday, she'd see me the way I saw her.

Tagging some friends I know are still active because idk who still is from my taglist

@samuel-de-champagne-problems

@boldlyvoid

@reidsaurora

@thedancingcostumeyoungadult

@reid-ingandweeping

@foxy-eva

@writer-in-theory

@milla984

@sadgirlml

[pascaloverx]

NO LIGHT

SUMMARY: Your life is simple. You are a pastry chef who has just opened a bakery near your home. A new life, being a new person. But when James Barnes shows up at your bakery injured, asking you to offer him shelter, your life takes a sudden turn.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The characters in this fanfiction are not my creation and all belong to the Marvel universe. This story will feature scenes of violence, brief intense intimate moments, and inappropriate language. To the readers, I wish you a good read and ask that you engage with the fanfiction if you like it. Do not interact with this fanfiction if you are underage. Enjoy reading.

FOUR

FIVE

You put on a dress your mother gave you some time ago, one she called the "husband-catcher," telling you to wear it when you wanted someone special’s attention. Well, for tonight’s dinner, you want Steve Rogers' attention on you. You leave your hair down, choose the least uncomfortable pair of heels you could find at the last minute, apply light makeup, and a slightly bold red lipstick. You add a necklace that complements your neckline. Honestly, you feel like a seductive spy heading on a mission. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, but as you look at yourself in the mirror, you try to convince yourself that you can fool the handsome Rogers.

Grabbing your bag, you lock the door to your apartment, wave to the camera Barnes installed at the entrance, and head out for your meeting with Steve. It doesn’t take long to reach the restaurant on foot, as it's just across from your bakery. One of the perks of living close to work. From a distance, you spot Steve Rogers, sitting at one of the outside tables. He’s dressed in an elegant navy blue suit, his hair neatly in place with not a strand out of order, and his beard freshly trimmed. This man knows how to dress for a date — though this will be more of an interrogation.

"You take my breath away, Y/N. If your plan was to distract me with your charm, it’s already working," Steve says the moment he sees you approaching. You try to exude as much sex appeal as possible, making sure the slit in your dress is on full display while offering him a gentle smile.

"I believe you think I value your opinion on many matters. But thank you for the compliment, I do try to perfect my charm when I'm about to be interrogated by a stranger regarding someone he assumes I know." You respond boldly, watching as Steve pulls out the chair for you to sit. After settling into your seat and adjusting your bag, you realize you're actually sitting in a restaurant with a very handsome man. Your cheeks grow warm, which feels odd given how cool the evening is.

"You know Bucky, it’s only a matter of time before you admit it. I’d even bet you saw him before this meeting. That’s why you closed your bakery early, and don’t tell me it was just to get ready for our date. You look stunning, but I’m not an idiot. What did he tell you to do? Lie outright, I’m sure of it." Steve seems to know Barnes all too well, sounding completely convinced that he’s uncovered everything you’ve been hiding. You take a sip of water, trying to calm yourself.

"It's astounding how you think admitting to being a stalker is somehow better than understanding that I have no idea who the hell your friend is. Yes, he may have been a customer of mine. If you haven’t noticed, I serve a lot of people—including you. And as much as you don't deserve it, I closed my bakery early because I needed to prepare myself, not just by putting on a nice dress and makeup, but mentally. This is the first date I've had since I lost my trust in men. If you want to know why, it's because my fiancé cheated on me with my best friend. The week of our wedding. If you want more details, I smashed a vase over his head, he had to get over five stitches, and it was the first time I got arrested. He dropped the charges afterward because he felt guilty. Since then, I've been focusing on my bakery. So, tell me, smart guy—are you satisfied?" You speak with a certain flair, feigning near tears as you recount the story. You're lying, of course, about several details, but the performance is convincing enough.

Steve extends his hand across the table, gently holding yours and caressing it. You look at him with teary eyes while he gazes back at you like you're a lost puppy. "Where did Barnes find you? Until now, I thought you were just a regular bakery owner, but you're something else. If you tell me you know how to use a weapon, I’ll personally see to it that you become an agent." He laughs right after, clearly amused by your act.

You sigh in frustration, pulling your hand away from his, but he grabs it again, moving his chair closer to yours. He then pulls your neck towards him to whisper into your ear, "I'm starting to enjoy your lies. You can keep feeding them to me, but I’d prefer if you cut the nonsense and told me something real."

"I haven’t been fucked in almost a year. Am I lying or telling the truth?" You give up trying to fool Steve and decide to shift the conversation. You're still holding his gaze when the waiter clears his throat to get both of your attention. Your eyes dart away from Steve's as you straighten up in your chair, adjusting yourself. Rogers, too, composes himself, though he’s still chuckling at the situation.

“Gentlemen, I apologize for the interruption, but I would like to know if you are ready to place your order. For today, the merlot paired with the chef's special pizza is highly recommended,” the waiter says politely, clearly embarrassed.

"We'll go with your recommendation," Steve replies with a broad smile, as if he’s having the time of his life. What a complete idiot. The waiter notes down the order and quickly heads off to fetch the wine, leaving you and Rogers alone again.

"You saw he was coming over and didn't warn me on purpose, right?" you ask, a bit furious, looking at him as if you could kill him.

"Let’s say I didn’t see him coming, just like you don’t know Bucky. But let’s get back to the main topic; you haven’t had a sexual partner for quite some time. Tell me, why did you share that with me?" Steve speaks seductively, looking at you as if you are something he treasures.

"Because that’s the reason for all of this, right? Not to find your friend, but to try to seduce me so I’d let you sleep with me. Of course, all in the name of you thinking you’ll find your friend. You want to find him so badly that you came here on a date with me instead of going to look for him. Admit it, you don’t want to be wrong about me knowing Barnes, because if I don’t know him, you’ve got nothing. You’ve wasted your time trying to get into my pants. Also, you don’t need to be formal when discussing my lack of sex. I haven’t fuck with anyone for a while. In fact, I might be manipulating you to seduce you and then discard you. Have you thought about that?" You try to be more straightforward among the lies and deceitful words. You just want to see if you can hit a nerve with Steve Rogers to convince him of something. Even if it’s that you’re a woman desperate for his cock.

“Dance with me?” Steve suddenly asks, catching you off guard. You look at him, trying to understand what he means. There's no music playing, and the waiter is about to serve the wine. But something tells you this is a test, so when he extends his hand toward you, you take it firmly. He places his phone on the table, and an instrumental melody begins to play. He then presses his body against yours, one hand holding yours and the other resting on your waist.

He leads you with confidence, your bodies swaying to the music. At one point, it feels less like dancing and more like a silent battle to see who will give in first. Steve’s hands grip the contours of your dress, almost reaching your backside. Your hand wraps around his neck, your head resting close to his chest, allowing you to catch a whiff of his cologne—a woody scent that feels almost comforting, like a warm embrace.

"You’re right, I know your friend. Lying is just pure foolishness, and I can't take it anymore. In fact, I know him quite well. He was a secret crush of mine, not just a mere customer. The days he came into the bakery were the brightest. He’d order an espresso and the fresh bread I was testing the recipe for. I would come in early just to be ready when he arrived. I waited for months to find out his name, even though I knew he preferred savory over sweet, that he probably has a fluffy white cat, that he enjoys reading The Hobbit, and that he never paid me any mind. That’s why I denied knowing him; I feel pathetic saying all this. Like a silly teenage girl hoping to be noticed by the guy she finds attractive. And that’s all I have to say about him. He doesn’t know who I am, but I know who he is. I’d recognize him even in a crowd. " Your voice trembles, a mix of embarrassment and pretense, almost as if you feel utterly humiliated. It’s not a complete lie; it probably won’t work, but you have to try. Steve won’t give up easily if he doesn’t have part of the truth. And that’s what he’ll get from you—a fragment of the truth.

The waiter brings the pizza, interrupting the small world you and Steve had created during the dance. Both of you feel a bit embarrassed for being caught, but without saying much, you sit back at the table, allowing the waiter to serve you. The pizza is flavorful, but Steve seems distracted, still processing your ridiculous confession of love for Barnes. His usual confident demeanor falters for a moment as he picks at the food, clearly thinking over what you just said. The tension lingers, not from suspicion anymore but from the awkward truth you've offered.

"Since you've finally decided to tell me the truth, now tell me: when was the last time you saw James Barnes?" The crucial question is asked, almost as if it were another test. Between bites of pizza and sips of wine, you feel the need to reveal something to him. But if you tell the truth, Barnes could be at risk. He would be furious.

"The last time I saw him was…" You were just about to reveal the truth to Steve, realizing the mistake you were making when the sudden sound of a gunshot drew your attention. The bullet shattered your wine glass, leaving you horrified. The second shot was even closer to Steve, hitting his arm. Without much thought, you immediately drop to the floor, rushing over to Steve, who is pressing on his wound. You can hear people screaming in panic from inside the restaurant.

"What is so important that it's taking you this long to find?" you ask impatiently, panic rising inside you. You're more scared for Steve than he seems to be. Finally, he pulls out his car keys along with his wallet from his pocket. He places the money for the bill and tip on the table, then presses the car key into your hand. His grip is firm, and you're horrified when you see his blood smearing onto your skin from his hand.

"Y/N, I'm putting my life in your hands. Please, save me," Steve says as his eyes begin to close, his strength visibly fading. You quickly place his good arm over your shoulders and ask him to guide you to his car. He leads you as best as he can, and once there, you carefully put him in the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt. You try calling out to him a few times, hoping to keep him conscious, but he slips into unconsciousness. Without wasting another second, you rush to drive him to the hospital, heart pounding as you speed through the streets.

It didn’t take long before you arrived at the emergency room of the hospital. After shouting for help, a doctor and several nurses rushed to assist you in getting Steve out of the car. You were questioned for a while about Steve—whether he had any allergies, what his condition was. You decided to say you were his wife, explaining that due to his military service, you hadn’t seen him for a while. Once they finished removing the fragments of the bullet from Steve’s arm, you could finally take a breath, though your heart still raced.

“Miss, your husband asked to see you,” one of the nurses informed you as you sat in the waiting room for hours. You quickly stood up to meet Steve, who was in a hospital bed looking much better.

"My beloved wife, have you waited all this time for me?" Steve Rogers says, sounding somewhat dazed, likely from the pain medication they gave him. You give him a slight smile as you see him beckoning you closer with his hand.

"How is my dear husband?" you ask, fully embracing the character as you approach him, gently holding his hand. He leans forward and pouts, as if asking for a kiss. You give him a quick peck on the lips.

"I want to go home. Can we leave?" Steve asks, laughing as if he's finding something amusing.

"We could go but your doctor said you need to stay under observation and the hospital said you need to give your insurance number or a nice amount of money." You smile and casually respond to Steve's question, but unfortunately, he falls asleep before he can answer you. You inform the hospital reception that you will provide Steve's financial information once he is better. They are understanding, thinking of you as a concerned wife. They even let you leave, promising to call if he improves. Feeling exhausted, you decide to go home. You drive Steve's car back to your place, borrowing it for the night.

As you’re about to enter your apartment, you hear a noise coming from inside. Great, this is when things go south. Thankfully, you have pepper spray in your bag, and you grab it, preparing to defend yourself against whoever is inside. When you open the door, you come face to face with a man. As soon as he turns to look at you, you spray him in the face.

"Ah, Y/N, are you trying to blind me?" Barnes exclaims, crying out in pain from the pepper spray in his eyes. You rush to help him, dropping your bag on a nearby surface. Gently, your fingers brush against his eyes as you attempt to wipe away the remnants of the spray. You blow softly into his eyes, trying to ease the burning sensation, while he watches you in stunned silence.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," you say softly, your concern evident. "I thought you were an intruder." As you continue to tend to him, the tension in the room shifts from fear to a more intimate moment, the chaos of the evening fading into the background.

"It wasn't supposed to be you who got hurt," Barnes says, grasping your hand, which still bears the blood from Steve. For a moment, you're touched by his genuine concern for you. However, the realization of what he said sinks in, making you acutely aware that he has some connection to what happened.

"What do you mean by that?" you ask, your heart racing as you search his eyes for answers. "Did you know this was going to happen?" The tension hangs heavy in the air as you await his response, feeling both unsettled and intrigued by the depths of his involvement.

His eyes seem heavy as he searches for the right words, finally admitting, "It was Natasha's plan. She thought a small attack would distract Steve enough for him to stop looking for me. She figured you wouldn't be able to keep secrets. We planted bugs in the restaurant, and when we sensed you were about to spill, we had to act. I know you're going to be angry, but it was for your own good." James Barnes's words feel like a whirlwind, leaving you bewildered.

"You’re crazy. How could you let her hurt your friend? Or did you do it yourself? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? You put me at risk and left your best friend injured. He’s in a damn hospital bed, you son of a bitch." You step away from James Barnes, unable to recognize the man in front of you. How sadistic could he be to hurt Steve?

"Steve will survive. It was a strategically placed shot; we wouldn’t have harmed him if we didn’t know he would pull through. Please, Y/N; trust me. What Natasha and I did was for the best," James Barnes says, holding your hands again as if he desperately wants you to understand and accept that it was all part of his plan.

"Don't you dare ask me to trust you; you didn't trust me. You preferred to shoot Rogers rather than give me a vote of confidence. But I can promise you that if you don't step aside right now, I will make you regret not shooting me. I will tell Steve and the police everything I know about you, and I won't regret it. So get out of my apartment and don't come back," you say angrily, feeling something burn inside you. You are tremendously regretful for having trusted him, for ever thinking he could be yours.

Barnes's gaze conveys a sense of pain, as if he is truly remorseful. He heads toward the door as if to leave, but pauses just before opening it, turning back and practically rushing towards you. His lips meet yours in a kiss filled with emotion. James leads the kiss, as if he wants to consume you. The intensity of your tongues dancing within each other’s mouths, exploring, is sensational. There’s a strong urge to push Barnes away, to hit him, to cry for him. But in that fleeting moment, you savor the kiss.

"I'll come back when you’re calmer. Until then, don’t do anything reckless. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but just know that I’m truly sorry," James says as he breaks the kiss, his eyes still closed, relishing the sensation of your lips against his. When you open your eyes, he’s no longer there. For a moment, you wish he had never been in your life at all.

[corruptionasart]

So regarding rom corruption, over the past couple weeks I've tried off and on to make stuff using the more advanced features of the Real-Time Corruptor I've been using, so I could adequately demo it for the tutorial video I swear I'll make at some point eventually.

And I mean that stuff is academically interesting, and could certainly help with the trickier consoles to corrupt, like the Sega Genesis, it just doesn't yield very interesting results without grinding and reloading saves a lot more than I feel like I already do doing rom corruption the way I have in the past. and I just don't have time for that tbh, especially since there's so much other stuff I want to do creatively.

Speaking of that, a friend of mine has recently gotten big into music production as a hobby and sharing his progress and it's made me start looking back into that myself and while at this point everything I've tried to make inevitably ends up running back to vaporwave/ambient or harsh noise maybe I'll post stuff at some point here. Some shitposts at least, though even then I feel like I'd need to write a full ass essay to explain them

ugh i dunno i just feel bad that I'm just posting reblogs, although I realize more and more that with the large number of newer tumblr users following this blog, it is actually a useful thing for me to have a decade plus of following blogs and tags to surface stuff for people who haven't been in this hole as long

ok i'm just rambling now i'll stop have a good day

[sciderman]

I swear I have read your big post regarding Peter Parker's neurodivergence and why it is best to avoid labelling him, but he definitely has a weird brain

Can't find it and feel kinda sad about it cuz I deeply related to it

i know exactly which post you're talking about and i can't find it either! i've raked through my archive, and it's just - nowhere to be seen. i think tumblr eated it (it happens.)

really, tumblr's search functionality is so so useless, i don't know what to tell you. there are plenty of keywords i can search to find it that post, but the search functionality actually just does not work!

undiagnosed audhd-addled peter parker, my darling, my light, my life, my everything.

i think peter parker's such an interesting creature to write, because a lot of people will point to a certain behaviour about him and say "this is an autistic thing, right?" but a lot of those behaviours are actually, in my head, tied to certain traumas in peter's life too.

people say "oh, the food thing, peter's a picky eater because he's autistic" and yes, absolutely. but also it's tied to his trauma with his parents.

peter gets overstimulated, and yes, it's an autism thing, but also he was bitten by a radioactive spider and his senses are dialled to 11.

it's a similar case i've found for myself, too – where a lot of friends i have kind of diagnose me because i have autistic traits, but actually - i'm hesitant to claim the label or pursue diagnosis because, actually, i know where these certain behaviours come from, and they come from certain traumas. there are events i can pinpoint in my life and say "yep. that's where this behaviour comes from."

so - i think there's a lot of overlap between trauma and autistic traits. the brain is very complex! i think the reason for that overlap is maybe as simple as the fact that people with autism and people with trauma are both doing the same thing - developing behaviours to protect themselves or soothe themselves. so - i think it's nice to be able to see a character like peter parker, who may or may not be autistic, but recognise behaviours in him and see yourself in him.

people who go undiagnosed for whatever reason - people who are really good at masking - so good, in fact, that they have no idea they might be on the spectrum - everyone and anyone at all can look at peter parker and recognise themselves. because i think we discredit the thought that every single brain does the same thing! develops certain behaviours in order to survive. every brain has that same software - we've just all been faced with different hardships that we need to overcome, and that's were all the differences come in.

autism is a spectrum, i guess - everyone falls into it to some degree. and i think events in your life probably push you along on it. but i don't know, i didn't study brain science. probably what i'm saying is very stupid and uninformed. of course there's brain chemistry involved. but i know people in my life living with autism and certain events in their life have exacerbated certain behaviours or made coping with it a lot more difficult. so maybe trauma is a catalyst.

[yesterdayiwrote]

For someone who's so thoughtful when he speaks, Lewis really does still give some absolutely terrible quotes when he's talking to journalists...

[raininyourblackeyes]

My cousin, a published writer, a well-known poet in my country and a literature professor, for whom I've always been no.1 support ever since her first attempts at writing in high school, told me that I must stop writing as a hobby because that's her thing and since I'm writing fantasy mostly my writing could never have any important artistic value anyways.

[mistystarshine]

I really enjoy the way you've portrayed Adam and Lute's relationship in Three Years Time and Northern Star, as well as the interactions between Charlie/Vaggie and Lute! How would you write an interaction between Adam and Lucifer in that storyline?

Thank you! And maaaaybe? I'm not sure if I'm going to continue writing in that universe. In theory, I'd like to, and LOVE to do a scene with Adam and Lucifer, but in practice, I'm having some really horrible anxieties about my writing and if people hate it/me when I talk about my writing rn, so I may be taking a step back for a bit in general. Not sure.

[dogearedheart]

8i've been thinking about the last asks i got today. and i think it's better for me to take a step back from this account. i know the anon didn't mean anything by it, but i still feel like i am being a negative presence on here and weirding people out with who i am is nothing i want. so, i am not deleting or anything. i am just gonna be less present with sharing personal things or leaving tags. I'll probably be more active on my second account where i don't have that many followers :)

[vulpinesaint]

the sheer number of incredibly intricate worlds and characters that i have created with people who i am no longer friends with so that i can no longer talk about those characters or use those settings. i only got half the dog in the divorce do you know what i mean

[buppypuppy]

.

[moonlit-orchid]

good evening to everyone except a certain few fucking anons

[weirdo-with-a-nametag]

Got a new haircut a couple days ago and I kinda think it came out a little goofy in spots, and it's bugging me, but I think it's okay. I'm trying to take things a little less seriously, give stuff a shot to see if it can be fun. This haircut is an experiment, an attempt to get closer to something I like, and I'm enjoying some of it! That's a success! And the parts that lay weird will grow out! The stakes are not so high, and my appearance doesn't define me, and I'll survive the back of my head looking silly for a few weeks

[arklay]

DANI HAINES x CLAIRE REDFIELD / template.

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?