hi guys i dont know if anyone really cares but iâm leaving and not coming back, i had to get this off my chest im sorry ill miss my moots and everyone i interacted with
á˘đŠ whatâs playing : mosquito by pinkpantheress
a/n: i know this is so short im sorry, i had a busy week and took the weekend to rest. also idk how to put more than 10 images on one post and i canât use tumblr on my computer𫩠what are we thinking ab making this a seriesâŚ
Toji is a believer of third time's the charm (this is his 3rd marriage)
⤡ series masterlist â toji's dad lore
CW. smau / family au / cursing because he's an over dramatic girl dad / suggestive / fluff / crack kinda / ft. shiu & the divine dogs!
đ Surveillance on Toji Fushiguro
Date: âââââââ Report by: Shiu Kong
13:00 â Fushiguro is observed watching Love Island. Volume set to medium. Dog approaches. Fushiguro pets it without looking away from the screen.
13:07 â Fushiguro verbally reacts to the show: âThat guyâs an idiot.â Pauses. Adds: âYou deserve better, sweetheart.â Unknown if statement directed at TV contestant or dog.
13:22 â Fushiguro feeds the dogs. He is⌠speaking to them. Tone markedly altered in a higher pitch. Uses phrases such as âatta girlâ and "pedigree you scum" I briefly consider aborting the mission.
13:24 â Fushiguro calls one of the dogs âstinky ballsack.â I am later informed the dogâs actual name is Totality. Fushiguro kisses the dog on the head.
14:10 â Fushiguro exits residence. Carries an extra jacket despite already wearing one.
14:42 â Fushiguro retrieves his current wife, ââââ, from work. Takes her bag. Asks if sheâs eaten. Receives playful insult in return. Smiles. Is not repulsive to affection.
15:03 â Fushiguro and ââââ stops for snacks. Fushiguro complains about prices. Buys snacks anyway. Hands over the âbetter oneâ without being asked.
16:30 â Returns home. Immediately greeted by dogs.
18:00 â No further hostile activity observed. Fushiguro cooks dinner. Burns nothing. Eats with family. Tsumiki and Megumi have grown up well.
19:10 â Fushiguro falls asleep on the couch mid episode. Dogs are sleeping on his chest. Does not move but snores loudly.
CONCLUSION:
Fushiguro is no longer operational. Subject is living peacefully as a civilian and shows zero interest in returning to the field.
NOTES:
Fushiguro's dogs are Dipshit, Idiot), and Ballsack. It is important to note that all three are to be referred to as 'Sweet Angels.'
RECOMMENDATION:
We are never getting this man back. The agency should cease surveillance immediately and begin searching for a replacement. Preferably one without pets.
it has been known that caleb is a dog. all his actions are just him being a dog. the way he follows you around the house making it look like he got a tail wagging fast. he got that puppy eyes on whenever youâre cuddling with him. the necklace that you gave him before he was leaving for skyhaven? that was literally a dog tag, a sign of claim from you on him. heâs not complaining either. he loves getting claimed and showing off how he belongs to you. his puppy eyes got even worse when youâre not showering him with praises. he also cooks good food for you, so of course heâs expecting a little praise. oh but his eyes are shining bright when you did give him. âgood boyâ is a classic but he loves that.Â
we donât talk about his rut. itâs the worse thing to ever happen. or maybe the best.  he would have you on all fours, your face is shoved onto the bed with his hand while he bucked himself into you from behind. âf-fuck- pipsâŚ! you feel so goodâŚ! iâm sorry-!â while maintaining his harsh pace. letting him fuck you during his rut truly is a mistake. all that man want now is breed and breed. âiâm gonna burst in you, pips- fuck-!â his thrust is getting faster as he could feel he was about to cum. your mind was numb from how hard he was fucking you. you could only stay there with your cheeks smooshed onto the bedsheet and take him. âs-shit, p-pips, iâm cumming-!â was what you heard before you feel his warm seed spilling into your womb. âlove you pipsâŚâ he leaned down to kiss your sweaty forehead and nuzzled your neck. you thought he was done before you feel his cock hardening again inside you. âiâm sorry pips⌠seems like i canât let you rest for tonight.  â¤ď¸â
arguing with your boyfriend over something so pettyâactually funny that it's still ongoing.
nanami kento made a vow to never let you go to bed with a heavy heart.
your boyfriend, who'd take the blame and apologize for every argument no matter who was at fault.
the same man who swore he'd love you even if you were a louse (put you on his head just so you'd survive typeshi).
it all started on a wednesday afternoon. sunlight streamed through the windows as you both curled into the couch. the tv played a movieâsomething about high schoolers singingâbut your mind drifted off elsewhere.
"are we meant to be?" you queried the man slumped against you.
"not really." he said, entirely unfazed.
"excuse me?"
***
it was day two of ignoring nanami.
he stepped into the bedroom, spotting you curled under the covers with your back to him. the room was dark except for the faint glow from the hallway.
"darling?" he padded over and gently sat on the edge of the bed.
he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.
"i apologize but i still find the notion of fate disagreeable."
you don't respond.
"it could've picked anyone for me. any random person across town or some celebrity i don't like." you turn, glaring daggers at your boyfriend.
"fate didn't choose you." nanami said softly, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. "i did."
he turned his head slightly and tucked the duvet under your chin.
"i believe i chose you every single day since we met." his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "i chose to be the first one you see when you open your eyes. and be the last before you sleep."
his thumb brushes your cheekbone.
"even when my hair turns white. even if my skin starts to wrinkle. even if i won't be able to open my eyes. even if you can't hear me anymore."
pairing: higuruma hiromi x fem!reader
note: JJK Uâs law professor is hot! but thereâs no way heâd indulge in you, his teaching assistant⌠right? @hunnismokahâs law professor higu art has convinced me to write this hehe. also i know nothing abt law school bc Iâm a zoology major lmfaoooo, but I did a little bit of research.
content: smau + written, fluff, slight angst, law professor higuruma, reader is a grad student and a TA for his undergrad class, drunk confessions, getting together, etc.
fic wc: 600
Unending nerves buzz within your body as you walk into the coffee shop to face your doom, or what you assume will be your doom.
You aren't sure what may come of this. Your crush on him can't be professional, or can it...? You haven't been his student since you were a first year and now you're a grad student, who's also taken on being his teaching assistant. Thinking about the logistics puts you into a nervous spiral.
You see him sitting at a small, brown table for two. What if someone sees the two of you and assumes something? You'd surely be in even worse trouble than you probably are in right now, wouldn't you?
"I don't bite." He murmurs, his voice is dangerously low and inviting in ways you do not want to think about at the moment.
Without a word you take a seat across from him, bowing and thanking him for the drink.
"Okay, relax with the formalities. I've been to your apartme-"
Your eyes widen and you cut him off with a loudly whispered, "SHUSH!" One of his eyebrows quirks up but he doesn't question you.
You take a sip of your drink before speaking, "If you're going to fire me I understand, sir. I've acted out of line as your TA, and I was formerly your student, so-"
"Excuse my language, but cut the bullshit." He says in his no nonsense tone. You're stunned to say the least, but you close your mouth.
"[name], I did not come here to fire you, alright? I came to talk to you about these feelings you have for me."
"But why? You don't even reciprocate them." It doesn't make any sense to you. You shift slightly due to the awkwardness.
"For a future lawyer, you sure don't use your context clues." He takes a sip of whatever he's drinking and sits back in his chair a little. He even crosses his arms over his chest.
You notice how he basically rewords one of your text messages and uses it against you, "And for a past lawyer... you're pissing me off!" Your response only makes him chuckle.
"Okay let me help you out. Do you really think that I would come over to your apartment to nurse you back to health for the fun of it?"
You pause to think, "I was assuming you just wanted me to be back as soon as I could." He shakes his head and sigh.
"No, I did it because I care about you. You are a very brilliant, and resilient woman and I admire that about you."
Your chest flutters a little bit at his flattery.
"You can't seriously mean..."
"Yes, somehow and someway, you've wormed yourself into my life and I find that I don't hate it."
"What a roundabout way of saying you like me."
"Oh, can it."
"Okay, old man." Higuruma smiles when he sees you've gained your confidence back.
"I'm only 35, you'll be reaching your thirties soon enough."
"I've still got six years."
He takes another sip of his drink as do you.
"I know you're worried about the logistics of it all. Since I am not your professor, and I hold no academic power over you, we're fine. People may find it odd, but we aren't breaking any policies." You sigh in relief. Could you have found out this information on your own? Probably, but you were too stressed to be rational.
"Being irrational under stress will come back to bite you in this field, work on that." He says somehow knowing exactly what you're thinking.
"Stop reading my mind!"
"Your thoughts are always all over your face." He says with a shrug.
"I have a good poker face, you're just always around me so you can read me easier." You counter.
He rolls his eyes, "Right..."
A warm, fuzzy feeling consumes you as you spend the rest of your morning talking to Higuruma about the most mundane things. If this is a preview of what it will be like to date him, then you're excited for the future.
Šđđđđđđđđđđ All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites without my permission, thanks! I will also ask that you do NOT feed my work to AI!
â Ý ăŕżŕžŕ˝˛ŕžă ę° đ NANAMI KENTO might be the pettiest man alive . . .
âŻâŻă ę° 1.3k ! ęą ăđ
contrary to outsider belief, your marriage to nanami worked remarkably well. too well.
a shocking revelation, considering you were âill-temperedâ while nanami had the patience of a saint, allegedly . . . .
the truth of the matter was that beneath the all the composure, politeness, and that expensive wristwatch kento always wore on his wrist, your husband unfortunately was just as much of a brat as you were.
if not, worse.
the two of you held grudges over the stupidest things imaginable: once, nanami corrected your pronunciation of âespressoâ during breakfast. so? you didnât kiss him goodbye before work for three whole days.
in retaliation, your coffee that he would make you each morning mysteriously happened to arrive without the three ounces of sugar you so adamantly required to â âbalance out the armpit taste.â
petty. childish. ridiculous.
yet somehow, these cold wars became the foundation of a deeply functional marriage.
âkento dear,â you began, soft steps quietly thudding against the wooden floors as you made your way to him, who was fully dressed: soft charcoal sweater hanging off his frame, pushed up revealing his forearms, reading glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose while his sandy locs unstyled in a way you almost never got to see outside these walls.
which, unfortunately, was the problem. he was far too comfortable for the atrocities he had just committed against you whilst you slept.
âdid you touch it?â your voice coming out suspiciously calm.
nanami doesnât even look up from the cup of jasmine tea he was nursing. âno.â
you only narrow your eyes as you finally end up next to him. âkento.â
that bratty tone of yours was enough to earn you a glance now, hazel eyes tired yet sharp all the same. âi told you, no.â
âyeah, well,â you huff, crossing your arms, looking up at him expectantly, âwaking up feeling like i got left in a meat locker says otherwise.â
he shuts his eyes as he takes a slow sip of his tea, setting it down with a soft clink, the steam curling between you. âinteresting,â he begins, voice flat with quiet amusement.
âyou seem quite functional for someone who claims theyâreââ he pauses, unimpressed, before lifting his hand and giving your forehead a quick, precise knock with his knuckles, withdrawing before you can even think to catch his wrist. ââfrozen solid.â
âugh!â you huff, hands missing his wrist and instead clutching your forehead with an adorable frown. âiâm not frozen solid, but iâm going to be. i donât know why you just canât leave it on 72.â
he exhales slowly through his nose, âyou know i get hot. i shouldnât have to strip to be comfortable in my own home,â he says flatly.
his hand lifts without much ceremony, gently replacing yours on your forehead. he briefly rubs the spot heâd knocked before his fingers slip down to tug lightly at your ear, earning an immediate, indignant whine from you.
âor would you prefer i start walking around the house naked instead?â
âwhat? iâm not answering that.â you say, turning your face slightly away from him, the words coming out clipped as you huff under your breath, âpervertâŚâ, still clearly offended at the recurring offenses.
you manage to slap his arm away. âi donât see why you insist on wearing long sleeves and then complain youâre hot.â you grumble. âyouâre making me hot just by looking at you.â
he scoffs softly at that, as if the answer is obvious. âi wear it because i enjoy being properly dressed,â he replies, smoothing an imaginary crease from his sleeve before leveling you with a look. âand physiologically speaking, itâs significantly easier to warm up than it is to cool down.â
âso, like i said,â he murmurs, reaching for his tea again, âthe thermostat stays where it is.â
and just like that, the war begins . . .
the rest of the day was full of quiet hostilities:
the two of you swiping the thermostat in opposite directions each time you walked by, addressing each other by first name as if you were two disgruntled coworkers trapped in an enemies to lovers arrangement rather than of spouses, nanami opening windows for âcirculationâ while you wrapped yourself in blankets like a victorian child afflicted with a devastating illness, texting each other back and forth instead of verbally communicating.
YOU âŁ
my hands are blue and numb. i hope your happy
KENTO âŁ
*Youâre
How are you texting me then?
YOU âŁ
donât be annoying ken.
thatâs not the point
clearly, neither of you were willing to concede. which only meant this was quickly becoming a battle of endurance rather than a dispute about âtemperatureâ. which also meant this was not going to end soon.
or so you thought.
despite the many, many hours of domestic warfare, the two of you still end up in bed the same way you always did, backs turned dramatically beneath the blankets, the thermostat unfortunately still set at 63. which meant nanami was winning.
the cold seeped through the sheets and curled around your legs until your body instinctively tucks in on itself, shoulders hunching deeper beneath the comforter with a quiet frown hidden against your pillow. beside you, nanami remaining entirely unaffected, laid comfortably on his side with one arm tucked beneath his pillow, warmth practically radiating off of him in waves.
it was infuriating.
because no matter how committed you were to the cold war, your body had always betrayed you first when it came to your husband.
sometime somewhere in between stubbornness and sleep, you found yourself shifting toward him subconsciously, inch by inch until your forehead presses against his back, your leg slipping over his beneath the blankets in search of warmth. the soft fabric of the white shirt heâd changed into earlier brushes against your skin, warm from sleep and smelling faintly of cedarwood and tea.
and god, the bastard was warm.
firm beneath your touch too, broad shoulders relaxing slightly the second you curl fully into him with a sleepy little sigh.
you knew he was awake. you could tell by his breathing, it wasnât the same comforting slow that soothed you once the day came to an end.
for a moment, neither of you said anything, pride still clawing at your insides. then came the soft shifting of sheets before nanami turned toward you, your forehead brushing against his chest as his strong arms came to cage you in instinctively, one settling around your waist while the other tucked beneath your head. his chin rested atop your hair with a quiet exhale, pulling you into his warmth.Â
your fingers curl weakly into the front of his shirt, face pressing deeper against his chest despite yourself. somewhere above you, nanami hums softly, entirely too aware of the fact that you were the one to cave first.
an inevitable outcome.
âinteresting,â he murmurs into your hair, sleep roughening his voice. âwhat happened to hating me?â
you grumble something incoherent against him.
âmm?â he asks, entirely too pleased with himself. âcouldnât quite hear you love.â
your brows pinch immediately. âstill hate you.â
his chest rumbles faintly beneath your cheek at that, amusement subtle but absolutely there. absolutely nanami.
âso, you admit defeat?â
you tilt your head up just enough to glare at him through the dark. âi told you. donât say anythââ
you were going to argue. save whatever was left of your pride.
except your words barely make it out before he tips your face up just enough to cut you off with a slow kiss, warm and unbearably smug beneath the blankets.
any and all insults died in your throat as butterflies began to bloom low in your stomach, your leg still hiked around his waist while his warmth slowly melted the last stubborn pieces of your pride away as your lips firmly molded against his own, a soft sigh escaping you. one of spite, obviously.
you could feel the faint curve of amusement against your lips when your annoyed little huff melts into him anyway â the exact outcome the two of you had been stubbornly dancing around all day out of pettiness and âspite.â
nanami pulls away from you before resting his thumb on your lower lip. âthere you are love,â he murmurs softly against your mouth, breath mingling with yours: entirely too pleased with himself.
â63 seems perfectly fine to me, no?â
he only watches as your expression softens in real time before giving the faintest nod â mentally noting the effect he had on you.
the kitchen smells like garlic, butter, and whatever expensive seasoning satoru bought last week because apparently âregular salt is boring.â
youâre standing at the stove stirring dinner while quietly regretting ever teaching your husband how to cook.
not because heâs bad at it, unfortunately, heâs annoyingly good.
but because now he treats the kitchen like his personal playground whenever youâre inside it.
âwhatcha makinâ?â satoru asks for the fourth time in ten minutes.
you donât even turn around. âfood.â
âwoaah,â he gasps dramatically behind you. âreally?â
you sigh.
already, you can feel him hovering nearby.
he never just stands normally either. no. he leans against counters dramatically, stretches himself over your shoulder unnecessarily, or wraps himself around you like an oversized cat who thinks personal space is offensive.
today seems to be one of those days.
before you can react, long arms slide around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.
âsatoru,â you warn immediately.
âwhat?â he hums innocently against your shoulder.
âiâm cooking.â
âand?â
âand youâre attached to me.â
âexactly.â
you close your eyes briefly. this man.
âgo sit down.â
âdonât wanna.â
of course he doesnât.
he rests his chin on your shoulder now, white hair tickling your cheek while he watches the pan like heâs genuinely interested in what youâre doing.
ââŚyer stirring too aggressively.â
you stop mid-motion, then slowly turn your head toward him.
âiâm sorry?â
âmhm,â he nods seriously. âthe vegetables are scared.â
you stare at him flatly, he grins immediately.
there it is.
that stupid grin that says he knows exactly how annoying heâs being.
âyouâre unbearable,â you mutter, turning back toward the stove.
âbut ya love me.â
and you canât even argue against it. because you do, way too much honestly.
you try focusing again, ignoring the way his fingers lazily tap against your stomach while he sways both of you side to side slightly.
for exactly twelve seconds.
then,Â
âbaby.â
you sigh. âwhat.â
âkiss.â
âiâm cooking.â
âmultitask.â
you snort despite yourself. instantly, he notices.
âthereâs the laugh i wanted,â he says proudly.
you roll your eyes. âyouâre acting like a child.â
âyeah, but iâm your child.â
âthat is absolutely not romantic.â
âworked though.â
before you can respond, he suddenly steals the spoon from your hand.
âsatoru-â
he takes a dramatic taste directly from it, humming thoughtfully like heâs judging a five-star restaurant.
ââŚneeds more love.â
you blink.
âlove?â
âmhm.â
âthatâs not an ingredient.â
âsure it is.â he points the spoon toward you accusingly. âyer cooking while annoyed at me. the food can tell.â
you laugh again, quieter this time.
heâs impossible.
and somehow fully aware that making you laugh is exactly how he gets away with everything.
he beams the second he hears it, immediately tightening his arms around you.
âthere it is.â
âyouâre insane.â
âand yet ya married me anyway.â
fair.
you shake your head, reaching for the spoon again, but instead of giving it back immediately, he lifts it higher out of reach.
âsatoru.â
âsay please.â
you narrow your eyes. âiâm going to hit you with this pan.â
âviolent. scary. terrifying even.â
ââŚsatoru.â
he grins, then finally hands it back only to immediately steal a kiss from your cheek while youâre distracted.
you let out an annoyed sound, but he just laughs softly against your skin.
âworth it.â
you swear he gets clingier the longer youâre married. not less.
because now he follows you everywhere around the apartment like he physically cannot handle being more than three feet away from you.
and the worst part?
youâre used to it now.
used to the random kisses, the constant touching and the dramatic whining whenever you donât give him attention immediately.
âbaby,â he says again suddenly.
you point the spoon toward him threateningly. âif you ask for another kiss while iâm holding hot oil, iâm divorcing you.â
he gasps loudly.
âwow. so this is what our marriage has become?â
âyou caused this.â
âfalse,â he says immediately. âiâm adorable.â
you finally turn toward him fully, raising a brow.
ââŚadorable.â
âmhm.â
ââŚnot annoying?â
âboth can exist.â
you hate that heâs right.
satoru notices your expression immediately and lights up like heâs won something.
âyou think iâm cute.â
âi think you should leave my kitchen.â
instead of listening, he pulls you closer again, large hands settling against your hips this time.
then, without warning-
he buries his face into your neck dramatically.
âmissed you today,â he mumbles.
your expression softens instantly.
ah.
there it is, underneath all the teasing, he just wanted attention.
you sigh quietly, setting the spoon down before reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.
immediately, he melts against you, completely.
âyou saw me this morning,â you murmur.
âtoo long ago.â
ââŚyouâre needy.â
âonly for you.â
his voice is quieter now, warmer.
and suddenly the teasing husband act slips just enough for you to see the softer part underneath it.
the real part.
you smile despite yourself, scratching lightly against his scalp.
âokay,â you whisper. âyou can stay.â
he lifts his head immediately, grinning like he just won the lottery.
âsick. whatâre we making?â
a/n : first time writing for gojo đđ yall is this mic on đđ. tysm for reading and other than that theres nothing more to add !!
Price looked visibly caught off guard of why Gaz has left so suddenly, so hastily.
But they didn't understand.
Only Gaz did, as he ran through the rain towards the house you two shared he remembered clearly with dread the words you told him after you accepted to marry him.
"I you ever cheat on me,I won't disturb you darling, it was your choice after all, but I'll disappear completely and leave you alone"
So that was why he felt like crying the moment he barged in your house.
"Darling!, Sweets!, please" where are you?"
He choked out helplessly and loud enough for it to echo through the walls.
He looked for you through all the house, instead he found empty spaces where your clothes were supposed to be, your stuff missing, and even your favorite cup wasn't where it used to be.
What did he find?, your rings, and wedding photos, both of them intact, his breath hitched, his heart seized on his chest, taking them with trembling hands.
"I am going to assesinate Mctavish"
Said the militarized man in his soul, but he shook his head, desperate to find you.
What do you do when the woman you've loved through hell and back was gone to the storm rain.
"Damnitdammitdammit" He felt a sudden panic, where the fuck were you?, he needed to explain Soap's shitty joke and that he would never cheat on you.
He thought about your favorite places, the airport, the park, the mall.
The city train.
That's it, with new motivation and throat tight he closed the house, put your rings on his pocket, and ran, ran as fast as he could, knowing you wouldn't go to far away.
Vs
You, who still sniffling but strong, still tried to move your backpack and stuff through the heavy rain with a tiny umbrella, and against the wind, kept walking, each step farther from the man you loved more than anything, but who you thought betrayed you in the cruelest way possible.
You felt one heavy bag get dirty with mud and get stuck in a hole, and cursing under your breath you helplessly tried to clean it a little and move it without your stuff getting on the dirty ground, the darkness wasn't helping you a lot plus the big achd on your chest.
"Move you stupid thing" you whimpered heartbroken, and then you heard a faint running.
Your eyes flickered up, scared, and then widened to see a flashlight.
And Garrick
You scoffed, hiding your relief through grief, glaring at him with teary eyes as he slowed his pace, unlike you who was breathless from running and crying, he was a complete mess, dirty, swearing, wet and.
Was he crying too?
"what do you want?"
You snarled heartbroken, hating how cruel you sounded, the bitterness on your soul speaking for you.
He flinched, slowly trying to step towards you as you both ignored the heavy rain.
You were about to step backwards, mumble a curse or snap at him, your insecurities getting the better of you.
But then he knelt down.
Kyle "I despise mud" Garrick, knelt on actual dirty mud that had rain water, grass and probably some dog's pee.
Looking up at you, he said the words you would still remember ten years later when you both had children and a bigger house.
"My dearest, the love of my life, you need to understand I would NEVER, and I mean NEVER. betray you, I love you more than life itself and I would rather die than see a single tear on your face, I promise on my still alive mother and the gods who keep me alive that I didn't make that stupid profile, it was Johnny, the bastard thought it was funny, I have proofs, and if I have to buy the sky to show you I would never betray you like that, I will"
He vowed, and suddenly you felt small, and dizzy, your husband, a man hardened by the years and the betrayals, was kneeling in front of you like out of a fairy tale, promising you the world the same way you did when you thought you almost lost him in that life threatening mission.
Everything felt numb when you felt your legs give out, hugging him and bursting into tears, not noticing the rain dimming, or the way he started fully ugky-crying too, getting up rith you against his chest, trembling at the thought of almost losing his entire world.
Summary: Rookie Leon falling asleep on your shoulder by accident.
Leon Kennedy was not a very social guy, often perceived as shy most of the time, awkward even. So when he heard about the travel plans his class was making to celebrate their graduation, he was not very convinced about going.
That was until he overheard you talking to your friends about it and suddenly it became the best plan in the whole world.
Three years.
Three full years trying to talk to you, trying to form a coherent sentence without stumbling whenever you were around, and still nothing.
You were completely out of his league. Massively out of his reach. You were pretty and smart and funny and, oh god, you were so perfect it hurt.
And most of all, you were kind.
You always smiled at him when there was absolutely no need to do it. You always waved goodbye to him when the bell rang and pretended not to notice how flustered he got every single time.
If you were going to be there, then so would he be, even if it was just to observe you from a safe distance like the complete coward he was.
He packed everything he thought he might need for the four-hour road trip. Earbuds, snacks, a couple of comics in case he got bored, an extra hoodie, his portable cassette player, everything carefully organized in his bag the night before because Leon Kennedy was the kind of person who got nervous even preparing for a bus ride.
Still, nothing could have prepared him for the panic that hit him once he actually stepped onto the bus.
His eyes scanned every seat what felt like more than ten times, searching for your face, waiting to hear your laugh or at least catch a glimpse of your hair somewhere between the crowded seats.
Nothing. No sign of your beautiful hair, your friendly eyes, or your soft smile.
His stomach sank immediately, maybe you decided to stay home this time, maybe he had dragged himself out here for nothing, he almost considered getting off the bus right there.
And then you appeared just two minutes before departure, breath uneven from running, backpack hanging from one shoulder while your eyes searched around for an empty seat.
Only then did Leon realize the only available seat was the one next to him.
That was not exactly surprising. Nobody usually fought to sit beside the awkward quiet guy who spent lunch breaks reading comics instead of talking.
But right now? Right now it felt like a miracle.
Maybe this was fate.
Maybe this was the universe finally taking pity on him after three years of suffering in silence.
Maybe this was God rewarding him for starting to go to church with his mom on Sundays again.
Fuck, maybe he was dreaming.
He dreamed about you all the time after all, his subconscious already knew every detail of your face by memory.
You looked around one more time before your eyes landed on him and then you smiled.
Leon almost passed out right there.
âCan I sit here?â you asked.
His brain completely shut down. âUhâŚâ
Great start, Kennedy.
âYeahâ he managed to say after a painful second. âYeah, of course.â
You thanked him softly before sliding into the seat beside him, adjusting your bag on your lap while he sat completely stiff next to the window, trying not to visibly malfunction.
You smelled nice, that was the first thing his traitorous brain noticed, something soft and warm, maybe vanilla mixed with your shampoo, subtle enough that he only noticed it because you were so close.
You were sitting so close to him.
Leon felt his heart beating so hard he was genuinely worried you could hear it.
You settled comfortably beside him while the rest of the class continued talking loudly around the bus, completely unaware that Leon Kennedy was currently experiencing the most important moment of his life.
And somehow, things only got worse for him, because your eyes landed on the comic resting on his lap âOhâ you said, sounding genuinely interested. âYou read those?â
Leon looked down like he had forgotten he was even holding it âUh⌠yeah.â
You smiled immediately âWhat issue is it?â
His head snapped toward you so fast he almost hurt his neck âYou know this series?â
Please say yes.
Please.
âOf course I do,â you laughed softly. âMy older brother used to collect them. I started stealing his comics when I was little.â
Leon stared at you.
No.
No way.
Not only were you the prettiest girl he had ever seen, but you also liked comics?
That was unfair, actually unfair.
His crush on you had already been catastrophic enough, but now this? God clearly had favorites.
âWhat?â you asked, amused by the way he was looking at you.
âN-Nothingâ he said quickly. âI just⌠didnât think you liked this kind of stuff.â
âWell, now Iâm offended,â you teased. âWhat exactly did you think I liked?â
Leon felt heat crawl all the way up his neck.
âI donât knowâ he mumbled awkwardly. âNormal things.â
That made you laugh again, and Leon decided right there that your laugh was probably his favorite sound in the world.
âWhatâs a normal thing?â you asked.
âI donât knowâ he repeated helplessly. âStuff cool people like.â
âYou think Iâm cool?â
Oh god.
Abort mission.
Abort immediately.
Leon looked away so fast it was almost violent âWellâŚâ he muttered. âYeah.â
Your smile softened a little at that, and somehow, instead of making things easier, it only made his chest hurt more.
The conversation started flowing after that, slowly but naturally. At first Leon stumbled over his own words every couple of sentences, his hands awkwardly fidgeting with the corner of the comic book while he tried to survive your attention.
But you were patient, kind, you never made him feel weird for taking too long to answer. Never laughed when he lost track of what he was saying halfway through a sentence because your eyes distracted him too much, you simply listened.
And Leon realized, with growing horror, that talking to you was actually nice, dangerously nice.
You asked him about his favorite characters, and when he started rambling apologetically about storylines and alternate covers, expecting you to lose interest immediately, you just kept listening with your chin resting on your hand.
âYou really like talking about this stuff, huh?â you said softly.
Leon froze, embarrassed instantly âSorry.â
âWhat? No.â You looked genuinely surprised. âI think itâs cute.â
Cute.
Cute.
Leon Kennedy was going to die on this bus.
At some point, one of your friends called your name from a few seats away, asking if you wanted to switch places and sit with them instead.
Leonâs stomach dropped immediately, but then you shook your head âIâm good here!â
Good here.
Leon genuinely had to stare out the window for a second just to recover emotionally.
After a while, the bus became quieter. Some people started falling asleep, others listened to music or talked more quietly among themselves while the road stretched endlessly ahead, you leaned back into your seat with a sigh âFour hours is a lot longer than I expectedâ you murmured.
Leon nodded nervously, then, after hesitating for a second, he slowly reached into his bag. âI, uhâŚâ He cleared his throat awkwardly. âI brought music if you want to listen to something.â
Your smile returned instantly âIâd like that.â
Leonâs hands shook a little while untangling the earbuds and you pretended not to notice, he handed you one side carefully before pressing play on his cassette player, and a soft song filled the silence between you.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
You simply listened together while the bus moved steadily down the road, shoulders brushing every now and then whenever it hit a bump, Leon was hyperaware of everything, the warmth of your arm against his, the way you quietly hummed along to songs you recognized, the way you occasionally smiled at certain lyrics.
At some point, you started talking again, softer now, your voices naturally quieter to match the atmosphere around you, you spoke about music, movies, childhood memories, future plans.
And Leon listened to every word like it was the most important thing anyone had ever told him, hours passed without either of you noticing, at one point, you laughed so hard at one of his awkward jokes that you had to cover your mouth not to wake the others and Leon had never felt prouder of himself.
Eventually though, exhaustion started catching up to him, he had barely slept the night before because he was too nervous about this trip, too nervous about seeing you.
The music played softly in the background while the bus lights dimmed even more, the atmosphere turning warm and sleepy.
Leon tried to stay awake, really, really tried.
But your shoulder was right there, and you smelled nice, and the music was soft, and you kept talking in that gentle voice that made everything feel calm somehow.
His eyes started closing before he could stop them, his head tilted slightly, then more, and before he realized it, he felt something soft under his cheek, warm, comfortable.
His sleepy brain barely registered what happened before exhaustion fully won, he fell asleep on your shoulder completely by accident.
The second you felt the weight against you, you looked down in surprise and immediately melted.
Oh.
Oh, he was adorable.
Leon looked so peaceful asleep, all the nervous tension finally gone from his face. His blond hair fell messily over his forehead, lips slightly parted while he breathed slowly against your shoulder.
You could actually feel your heart ache a little.
Because after three years of watching him quietly admire you from afar, after three years of shy smiles and awkward eye contact and stumbling conversations in hallways, you knew something Leon clearly did not.
You had liked him for a very long time too.
Carefully, trying not to wake him, you adjusted your position slightly so he could rest more comfortably.
His sleepy self unconsciously moved even closer afterward.
And honestly? You did not mind at all, not even a little.
It was obvious to say Leon briefly considered opening the emergency exit and throwing himself onto the highway once he woke up.
Omg such a long time.. I hope you enjoy this one! Nerdy Leon Kennedy you'll always have a special place in my heart đ.
Somehow, your normal conversation with Johnny turned into âwhat kind of dog would you be if you were one?â
At first, it was just the two of you. You argued that he would be husky. Loud, obnoxious, always needs training or something to do or else they become destructive. Johnny argued and claimed that he saw himself as a rottweiler.
You stared flatly at him, eyebrows neutral and the corner of your lips slightly tilted downwards but your eyes held so much expression. âA rottie? Really, Johnny?â you ask dryly.
Johnny leans back on the sofa and shrugs, âIâm coolâ collectedâ and Iâd say Iâm pretty tough,â he says as if all of those were indeed true. Before you could rebuttal (because letâs be honest, you were going to), he starts talking again, âI think L.T would be just like Riley.â
Oh, now weâre talking about Simon.
The same guy that everyone fears speaking his name because as soon as anyone starts to say the first syllable of it, he hears it. Probably has gigantic ears under his balaclava.
âLieutenantâs a doberman, what are you talking about?â you raised an eyebrow, shifting in your seat a bit. You rested your arm on the back of the sofa and turned to Johnny, your legs curled up under you.
Johnny stares at nothing in particular for a second. In a way, it made sense. But he liked arguing, especially with you. âNah, L.Tâs not a dobie. You know what they say: your pets look like you,â he points out with a smug smile as if he won this argument.
âAnd you know how he looks, how?â you replied, raising an eyebrow. You rested your temple on the palm of your hand; the arm that was resting behind the sofa.
That shut Johnny up.
Because, yeah. No one knew what Simon looked like.
ââŚâm jusâ sayinââ L.T really gives off the vibe of a german shepherd. Protective, independent but always there for his teammates and⌠loves structure. Heâs noâ velcro-y like a doberman,â says Johnny.
You opened your mouth to reply but stopped yourself.
How do you explain to your fellow friend that Simon was a goddamn velcro? Itâs questionable how youâre sitting in the rec room and he hasnât barged in here looking for you already. Heâs always glued to your side to the point that the captain questioned if he was on any new medications.
âIf anything, I think he might be a belgian malinois,â Johnny adds, completely oblivious to your parted lips and mind. âAn absolute wanker on the field, crazy lad if I say so myself. Canâ control the man even âf yer yelling âcross the building,â he points out.
That part was true.
Simon tends to do his own thing until the captain instructs otherwise. You tilt your head a bit, lifting up your other hand, tilting it side to side, âehh⌠I see it. But I still think he gives off doberman,â you replied.
The door to the rec room opens suddenly, the quiet creek echoing between the four walls. Simonâs quiet steps thumped against the cold flooring as he walks in and stops right in front of the door.
Just staring.
He doesnât speak and neither do the two of you.
Simon just⌠stares.
Not like a man who caught two people in an act they werenât suppose to be doing. Not like a man who didnât mean to walk in on accident.
Just a man who was staring at his two teammates like he was anticipating their next movement.
You slowly tear your gaze away from Simon and give Johnny a side eye before slowly pushing yourself off the couch. âIâm⌠gonna grab some coffee real quick,â you say slowly.
As much as you adore Johnny, you had a winning streak when it came to your guysâ âargumentsâ and you are not going to lose it.
Making your way over to the counter, Simon immediately followed you over without a single word and grabbed a disposable cup from the cabinet, handing you one as well. He doesnât speak, doesnât even spare Johnny a glance, and proceeds to pour himself a cup of black coffee.
Johnny watches the quiet interaction, taking note of how Simon hadnât moved from his spot behind you. He shouldâve gone over to a chair and sat down by now. Instead, he was standing behind you as you made your bittersweet coffee, filled with sugars and creamer.
âBy the way, I still think youâd be a husky,â you spoke up, turning around to face Johnny. You mixed you coffee with a clean spoon, walking about to him.
Simon follows along, trailing behind like a lost puppy but never once made any effort to join in on the conversation. Instead, he sits down in one of the armchairs across from you and Johnny.
The younger male doesnât respond to you. Heâs had his eyes on Simon the entire time and thatâs when the puzzles start connecting in his brain.
The amount of times that Johnny had witness Simon following you, the times where heâd would step in between you and some bad-mouthing recruit, and the amount of times that heâd always seem to nudge youâ intentional or not.
neighbor!simon riley and the mundane tasks he does to make things easier for you
when you first moved in, you were wary of the big, brute of a man that lived next door. you'd seen him, for the first time, taking his trash to the end of his driveway for the garbage truck to pick up while movers lugged boxes and furniture inside your house. he spared a single glance, offering a nod at your small wave before retreating into his house.
you thought that was that.
for weeks, you lived without any interaction. settling into your new home, coming back and forth between the hardware store and your house for new projects. taking out your trash before you go to work. you'd seen him take out his own trash once, but you watched from your window, so he never noticed.
you felt weird doing it. watching the thick muscles of his biceps flex against his filled out sleeve, dusting his veiny hands on his jeans before adjusting his balaclava. you wondered why he wore it, but you moved on. you'd likely never interact.
until a couple weeks later, you had arrived home with new groceries. a lot of them. it would take multiple trips that would make your arms ache.
you barely opened your trunk when a dark mass appaeared at your side. you gasp in surprise, head craning. damn, he was taller than you thought.
without a word, he reached in and grabbed at least ten grocery bags with ease. it didn't even seen to bother him as he carried it into your garage and to the door. he didn't struggle to open the door, inviting himself in and leaving you dumbfounded.
what the hell?
the next time his weird behavior manifested was when you were at work. you got a notification from your doorbell camera about some movement, expecting a salesperson or jehovah's witness. instead it was your neighborâthe one who's name you still don't have.
he carried a tackle box, and you were about to speak to ask what he was doing when something compelled you to just watch. he seemed to take apart something on your porch, taking and replacing a piece of the light before screwing it back. he left without a word.
when you got home, your porch lights shined brighter than beforeâthey were dim and on the verge of burning out. why would he do that?
you wanted to confront him, but you appreciated these small things. he still appeared out of thing air to take your groceries in, leaving before you could thank him.
he even started pulling out your bin for you, sitting it at the end of the driveway and dragging it back to the garage when the truck came by.
it perplexed you. why was he doing this for you? did he do it for his other neighbors? he had to, you couldn't be that special.
so you continued living life, welcoming the small actions as they made everything easier. besides, you enjoyed the company, even if he never said a word to you or looked in your direction.
the first time you approached him was on the drive home when a light appeared on your car's dashboard. you had no clue what it meant, though you probably should've. when you arrived home, you debated taking it straight to the autoshop, but instead you tried your luck with your neighbor. he likes to help, so you're guessing he wouldn't mind.
with a soft knock to his front door, you stood waiting patiently, and wait you did. a few minutes later, you contemplated turning back because he wasn't answering the door despite being home (his car was in the driveway).
just as you turned, the front door creaked open, revealing your neighbor clad in nothing but a white towel around his waist, balaclava shoved on haphazardly. his chest glistened with water as it glifed down his skin. oh fuck.
you could barely keep your eyes off his toned chest, abs flexing under your gaze before they snapped back to meet his dark ones. he lifted his brow in question.
"uh, hi." you said awkwardly, rocking on your feet. you hadn't even properly introduced yourself to the man, mostly because he disappeared so quick that you didn't have the chance. "a light came on in my car, and I was wonderingâ"
the door shut mid-sentence. it left you dumbfounded, mouth hanging open in shock as you stare at the door like it may open again. maybe his generous actions ended at bringing the groceries in. maybe he didn't want to get dirty after just showering. you couldn't expect the man to be ready to help any time you needed it.
after a minute of contemplation, you turned to walk back down the path. you'd have to get it to the mechanics and figured out how much it'd cost you.
when you reached the last step, the door opened again. still shirtless but now looping a belt around his jeans, he walked out, bare feet padding on the concrete. he nodded to your house, signaling you to lead.
you lead him back, hand him your keys and let him do his thing because now you get a free show. his muscles flex as he works under the hood, dirtying himself in a way that's sinful. after a while working in the hot sun, you go inside and bring back a drink, which he gratefully acceptsâstill without saying anything.
he's a bit weird, refusing to talk to you, but he's fixing your car so you can't complain.
"is this your official uniform to fix all your single neighbor's cars?" the words slip out before you can stop them. mortification warms your face, but it forces a deep chuckle from your neighbor, whose eyes crinkle under his mask.
he glances up at you, dirt smearing his skin. "only the pret'y ones."
your heart flutters. his voice was deep, gruff, like he smoked cigarettes, but it was satisfying to hear.
"so you do talk." you tease whilst biting back a smile. you'd finally gotten words out of him. a small victory. "what's your name?"
"simon."
"really? you look like a greg."
he shakes his head with a smile and continues working, leaving the two of you in silence. what you don't know is that simon's heart is nearly pounding out of his chest. it's beating so hard, he's worried he'll break a rib.
simon has been working up the courage to say anything to you every time he helps you, nervous as hell to talk to his pretty neighbor who he likes to help. hell go home and think about that interaction for daysâor until you ask for his help again.
You leaned back against the bed, tears on your eyes, they fixed on the photo of the Tinder profile on your phone, you read Gaz's profile.
Was all what was on his profile plus a blurry photo of him.
tall, military man, loves pancakes
His hands were also on the photo, flexing perfectly to draw any women's eyes.
But there wasn't one thing.
The expensive wedding ring that matched yours, which was on your wedding finger.
The same ring he held in that private mission, right after the kind of missions that makes you remember you aren't eternal.
"I promise to be with you, next to you, till the day I die, there's nowhere else I'd rather be were I could be half as happy as I am with you"
Those words, the sweet memory of them made an ugly sob leave your throat and you threw the phone to the side carelessly.
Vs
Gaz who snatched the phone from Soap's prying hands
"Fuck off mate!, I hate those dating apps shit, and I'm married!, don't you get it?, MARRIED!"
Gaz practically yelled to a laughing Soap, frustrated, he tried to delete that profile, but he was old, and that was noticeable on the weird way he was holding the phone and the even weirder match he had with "Melissa" that sounded a lot like your best friend's name.
It was Ghost who finally hit the back of Soap's head, which made the Scottish yelp, and said coldly
"Not all of us has a wife and kids to go home, Johnny, delete that shit from his phone"
With a terrifying glare that made Soap gulp awkwardly, and take Gaz's phone.
"M', sorry mate, Ghost's right"
Before he could do anything,a small ping was heard from an upcoming notification, Roach read the phone silently before he got a little pale.
"What?" Gaz asked with dread.
Roach cleared his throat, reading out loud the most recent message from Melissa.
"You're a fucker, asshole I'm sending this to your wife"
Before getting blocked.
They all stood frozen as Ghost's eyes fixated on how Gaz's expression crumbled, but before letting the tears fall off he snatched his phone, muttering a curse, grabbed his jacket and left the pub, heart shattering into a million pieces at the thought of you crying in your shared bed.
Something about pricr not showing up for his own kid's graduation, couldn't be bothered when "it's just uni, sport. I'll be there for something important, yeah?"
And you fully expect to find no one sitting in the seat you pre-emptively reserved, all too hopeful that your dad would finally see you. Except...it's not empty.
Ghost is sat in your dads seat.
Ghost, the man who practically saved your degree when you were on the verge of a breakdown and dad was on vacation. Found you crying in a gas station parking lot and recognized you from price's wallet.
And....it feels weird, ghost where price should be, almost like you're replacing your dad...but it's also nice?
Ghost has always been there when you needed him, more than your own dad ever was.
He drives you to get shitty fast food afterwards in celebration, hand heavy on your thigh and you don't try to stop him. Of course you've thought about it, but never acted on it...
Not until ghost pulls over on the back roads, parks his truck in the start of an empty field and lays you down in the dirty bed of it. Rough hands pulling your thighs open, a mouth leaving bites against skin. He makes you feel all the things you missed out on, too busy studying for your dads approval.
He groans "fuck, kid, can't believe i waited this long. Didn't want to distract you." When he ruts into you, thick and hot and too big for you to do anything other than gasp.
That night, you sleep in ghosts bed and not once does your dad call asking where you are. Seems like you made the right choice.
snowghoul
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