#i am so sorry for the dryness

[s9sa]

I'm sorry but who are you writing for?

In terms of gender? I thought about it for a few days and eventually decided on male/gender-neutral readers. When it comes to fandoms, I truly write for anyone. No need to apologize btw LOL

[vikisbay]

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【JJK】 Rejecting the JJK boys kisses Pt 1

|Gojo, Megumi, Choso, Geto, Yuji, Toge, Yuta,|

Pt 2

A/N —> when I tell you I was non-stop writing all of these, I am obsessed with this concept★彡

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【GOJO S.】 collage!Gojo

• music was blasting in your ear, your headphones sat perfectly on top of your head disconnecting you from the world around. Mid terms were coming up and you had been working your ass off, getting good grades was always top priority.

Your stupidly gorgeous boyfriend was sitting across from you mindlessly scrolling on his phone when he realized is amazing girlfriend (and hopefully) soon to be wife was sitting right in front of him. Your face was being blocked by the screen of your laptop so he tilted down revealing you to him. You were so focused on writing down something in your notebook you hadn’t even realized Gojo staring at you.

You were suddenly snapped out of your trance when your headphones were slid off your head and onto your neck, “hi sweetheart” his smile warmed your heart and his voice was literally ethernal. His hands cupped your face bringing it centimetres away from his, oh god how could you focus on studying now.

His lips just barely grazed yours before you turned your head.

You tried your hardest to suppress your laughter but his face was absolutely priceless, your soft giggles filled there air as he stood there.

He just stood there.

Tears brimmed yours eyes from laughing so hard, you felt bad but you were also enjoying it “so you don’t love me anymore?” His hand held your chin making you look at him “I’m sorry Saturo…” your apologize sounded real but the smile that was planted your face told him otherwise.

the offended look on his face made you feel bad you so you laid a small kiss on the corner of his mouth before placing your headphones back on your head, and with that he was satisfied allowing him to go back to his seat and scroll on his phone.

【MEGUMI F.】 high school!Megumi

• your eyes fluttered open, you lifted your head from your arms before stretching them over your head. How long were you asleep for? This question was floating through your head making you wish you had just stayed asleep, just for a little longer.

You looked around to find yourself in an empty classroom all the chairs were tucked in neatly and not a single object was left behind, except for the desk next to you. Textbooks and notes were scattered around messily. You rubbed your eyes trying to shake off your grogginess. You remember keeping a certain raven haired boy company while he studied but after awhile of watching him work you decided to take a quick nap. the question that now filled your mind was ‘where was Megumi?’

like magic the boy walked back into the classroom holding snacks. when he saw you a smile grew on his face “I got you snacks” his tone was caring and gently, he also kept his voice low due to the fact that you had just woken up. he set a bottle of apple juice in front of you before sitting down in his own seat. he picked up the bottle of apple juice once again and twisted the cap open before urging you to take it.

the cold liquid flowed down your throat soothing it of the harsh dryness you felt when you woke up, “you should really start going to bed at a reasonable time” he almost sounded worried but was ultimately cool and calm. you nodded your head agreeing with him knowing full well your lack of sleep was starting to affect your everyday life. he reached a hand over to you tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

he leaned in and you were well aware he was going to kiss you, but this gave you an idea. you put a hand on his chest stopping him in his tracks, this action made his eyes open slightly wider then usual. he raised an eyebrow at you making you let out a soft laugh.

“your so annoying sometimes”

this time he acted fast leaving a soft gentle kiss on your lips, clearly not finding your jokes funny which only made you find it funnier.

【CHOSO K.】 collage!Choso

• Choso laid down in your bed waiting for you, his eyes constantly threatening to close due to how late it was. you did this every night you took almost an hour to do your skincare and Choso just didn't understand way it mattered, you were already so stunning you didn't need to spend hours on your looks.

his head turned to the door as soon as he heard your soft foot steps, as soon as you came into view his eyes couldn't leave your body. you were wearing just your regular tank top and shorts but you still look so effortlessly stunning “are you just going to continue you staring?” a soft laugh left your lips and oh God was he so in love with you and i mean everything about you.

“maybe I am?” he shrugged his shoulders before patting the space beside him on the mattress. you slipped in the blanket which was cold against your bare legs. you snuggled closer to the black haired man for warmth, his warm hands wrapped around your waist bringing you comfort as you hid your face in his chest. he leaned in to lay a sweet kiss on your cheek but you moved your hand to his face pushing him away.

he backed up just a little bit a frown planted on his face, “I just put serum on my face baby” a scoff left his lips “princess, I just want to kiss you” his whiny voice made you laugh softly. you had to reach up to kiss Choso and as soon as you did he completely melted into your touch, you pulled away still giggling about the entire situation.

he pulled you in closer before saying “you don't need all that shit to look beautiful, trust me princess”

【GETO S.】 husband!Geto

• you had been working on the perfect dinner for Geto for the past hour. your boyfriend has been slaving away at work for days, he kept coming home after you had already gone to bed and would leave for work before you'd wake up. you understood that he was making money for the both of you and you were super grateful.

you set the plate of steak and mash on the table accompanied with a tall glass of his favorite wine, now you had to just wait for him to come home. while you waited you decided to do the dishes and when you were doing them he walked into the kitchen “hi gorgeous” he said tiredly before walking up behind you lazily wrapping his large arms around your waist, he nuzzled his head in your neck while you continued to clean the dishes.

he was about to leave a kiss on your neck but before he could you pulled away “eat dinner first, then I'll kiss you” you wanted nothing more than for him to have his way with you, to do whatever he wanted but he had been neglecting his heath by not eating so you had to be stern about this.

he frowned “is this what you say to your tired husband” a smirk graced his face, you turned around to face the dark haired man in front of you. so now he hand you pinned to the the brim of the sink “its what I say when my husband cant take care of himself” a soft scoff leaves your lips, he found your sass amusing making him laugh. he knew you really cared about him and he loved you even more for this so he did as you said even if he didn't like the faceted that you rejected his kiss.

of course later that night he was making you scream his name and making you beg for his lips on you.

because he was always able to make you a mess even if just hours before you had all the control over him.

— yours truly, Viki

✧.┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

[threadbaresweater]

parent teacher conferences are coming up and i'm praying a man like hiromi shows up and falls in love with me

hi, this was supposed to be a little daydream but I got carried away. this concept is full fanfic material. bless your beautiful mind, anon.

-

You've been talking with parents all afternoon, going over each student's progress, highlighting their strengths and weaknesses. You've argued a couple of times with some particularly opinionated parents who insist that their children aren't being challenged enough, or whose children are disruptive in class (contrary to what they say they're like at home). As you're scanning the list to make sure everyone scheduled has come, your eyes fall on one name in particular that never bothered to show.

The Higuruma kid.

You sigh, letting your shoulder slump forward in silent disappointment. She's a bright young girl- top of your class, reading at two grade levels above her peers, working through middle school math equations and making art that a college grad would envy. you knew her father to be the top defense attorney in the area, so it came as no surprise that he would have a child so brilliant. Tonight was an opportunity for you to tell her parents everything they probably already knew, but it would have been exciting nonetheless. you were sure you were almost as proud of her as they were.

The clock on the wall creeps past eight, so you start to tidy up. As you're filing away the last of the papers, your stomach calls for attention and you reach for a granola bar from your desk stash and cram half of it in your mouth just as you hear a breathless voice at your door.

"Am I too late?"

You look up, cheeks full of oats and honey, and your eyes go wide at the tall, lanky figure nearly falling over himself as he enters your classroom. His dark hair looks like at some point today it might have been meticulously styled, but now it's disheveled as he runs a hand through it, his deep brown eyes offering you some kind of silent plea for just a minute of your time. He's wearing a well-made suit that somehow looks too big and too small at the same time, tie loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone.

"Hiromi Higuruma," he offers, stepping forward to offer a hand. When you accept, his fingers are cool and a little damp, but his grip is strong and confident. Your eyes light up, and you muster a tired smile after swallowing the rest of your snack.

"Ah, Mr. Higuruma! I thought maybe you'd forgotten about our meeting."

"I'm sorry. I– work. It's always work," he says, and you realize that he's had to excuse himself probably dozens of time for his erratic schedule. "I usually ask my wife to come to these things, but she's got her own thing going on these days. Uh. Ex-wife, I mean." He sheepishly scratches the back of his neck as his cheeks go pink. "Divorce is still fresh. Haven't really gotten accustomed to that yet. Sorry. Sorry, I ah..." He trails off, leaving you to pick up and change the subject.

You wave him over to have a seat at your desk. "It's alright, you don't have to explain. I'm just glad you made it. I wanted to sing your daughter's praises, because she really is doing a wonderful job."

He positively beams at you, leaning forward, hanging onto each and every word you say, nodding along as you detail all of her achievements. His gaze is intense, his eyes locked on your face so completely that it makes you feel a little hot under the collar. When you look up to meet his eyes, emphasizing key points of his daughter's progress, you have to pause and swallow around the dryness in your throat before continuing.

"So, um, as you probably already know, she's gifted. Extremely so. I'd like to place her in our accelerated seminar. It will give her, ah–" you clear your throat, watching the way his lips curve into a genuine smile, how his eyes seem to shimmer with tears. "Uhm, give her a chance to really grow and thrive with other students like her."

You take the last few minutes to explain the process- there will be further testing, then placement based on her cognitive function, though you know she'll score high in all the areas. When Higuruma signs the consent forms, you watch the strong, confident stroke of his hand as he weilds the pen (left-handed, you observe), his long, agile fingers, the way his suitcoat rides up past his wrist in a disheveled, endearing way. You wonder if his ex-wife ever paid attention to the fact that his clothes were ill fitting, or that the bags under his eyes were as dark as his hair.

"Thank you, Mrs, uh–"

"Miss, actually." Oh God, your face is hot. You give him your name, and he nods, pressing a finger to his temple.

"Right. I'll remember that." He digs around in his breast pocket and produces a business card. Sleek, simple, elegant, with just his name, email address, and phone number. At the corner is a tiny graphic of the scales of justice. He reaches for the pen and flips the card over to scrawl another number on the reverse side of the card before sliding it across the desk to you.

You pick it up, and he must pick up on your puzzled expression because he chuckles, rubbing the side of his neck. "If you need anything else, please call. And... thank you. For taking such an active interest in my daughter. It means...more than you might know."

"It's my job, Mr. Higuruma."

"Please, call me Hiromi." Call me, he thinks.

You nod. "Hiromi."

[landrywrites]

jack champion — behind the scenes

warnings: no warnings

summary: you’re jacks girlfriend and you’re on set with him for the movie, after filming the scene where he says “i’ve always wanted to stick something in you tara.” you can’t help but feel a little jealous

you’re watching behind the camera as your boyfriend is currently swinging a fake knife at jenna, he suddenly says. “i’ve always wanted to stick something in you tara!” your body freezes, you don’t remember that being in the script… but you keep watching and decide to just let it slide ? ( you don’t let it slide )

you purse your lips and turn around to grab some water to ease the dryness in your throat, knowing it’s a little late for some coffee right now. you blink a couple of times before turning back to hear “cut” from the director and seeing jack run up to you, about to hug you but you play it off as not wanting fake blood on your clothes.

“hey baby! what’s wrong? i mean it’s fine if you don’t wanna hug but i don’t have a lot of fake blood on me yet y’know..” he pouts a little bit and it tugs on your heartstrings, you know getting jealous over something so minimal was stupid but you can’t help but feel your eyes well up just a bit.

“it’s nothing, just not feeling good right now, don’t wanna get you sick or nothin’ in case it’s something” now you weren’t exactly LYING, you did feel sick to your stomach but not in the way one would think, he understood and opted for holding your hand instead, he dragged you around set until he got to his bag and grabbed out medicine

the fact you knew he brought it for you instead of anyone else made your heart beat a little faster. he was always so caring and thoughtful, of course he would. he always did cute stuff like this it was hard to stay mad at him for long periods of time because you always caved for just how cute he really was.

you whine and he looks back from his backpack, standing up he cups your face. the look he wears is one of concern and he’s frantically looking around to see it you’re hurt anywhere. “what’s wrong baby!? talk to me.. please” he pleads with you.

you finally grumble out.. “i’m not really sick.. i mean my stomach does hurt but not in the way you think..” he gives you a look of confusion but nods his head urging you to go on. “well, after you filmed that scene with jenna.. you know where you said ‘i’ve always wanted to stick something in you tara’ i was a little jealous.” you pout and look up at him.

he laughs… laughs ? “oh baby what am i gonna do with you?” he says between giggles making you hit his chest. “it’s not funny, jack.” you say while crossing your arms and turning around to not see his beautiful face while he laughs that stupidly adorable laugh.

he hugs you from behind. “aw baby, didn’t i tell you they changed the script?” he kisses your head and turns you back around to face him. “jackkk now there’s fake blood in my hair i literally feel it.” deciding to ignore what he said because your cheeks are burning red from his actions.

“sorry baby, but i guess i forgot to tell you. don’t be jealous you know it didn’t mean anything.” he goes to hug you again while you back up. “it’s fine jack but they’re calling for you and i don’t need anymore blood in my hair, please. i love you but this is gonna be a pain to wash out.” he sighs but accepts and pats your head instead, kissing your forehead before covering your ears to yell out a “coming!”

you head back together, hand in hand and you watch with a blush on your face as your lovely boyfriend acts out the final scenes, ready to go home for the day you grab your guys’ stuff and you wait for him to clean up before heading out and going home.

home with him.

, posersays: second time writing on here. hope you enjoy this jack fic i put out

© landrywrites 2023

[abiiors]

sold to the 1975 😔✊🏼

a/n: i spent way too much fucking time on this and literally no one deserves to be subjected to this yet here we are. GOODBYE. (this is my legacy...)

when i open my eyes in the morning, the world feels different. the birds don’t chirp like they usually do, the sky is grey and leaves on the tree outside seem wilted and dead. still i drag myself out of my bed and trudge to the bathroom. 

the bags under my eyes are pronounced—a result of cleaning up after my mother when she returns home from her late night clubbing sessions. my lifeless blue orbs (🔵👄🔵) stare back at me. there’s no spark in them anymore… i used to be the curious girl who found beauty in everything. now… i can barely look at myself in the mirror. 

a heavy thudding on the door interrupts my depressive spiral. 

“autumn raine! open this door right now,” my mother slurs, mixing up her words and the syllables of my name and—

“have you died in there?”

the banshee shriek gets me moving. i toss my hair in a messy bun and throw on an old band t-shirt—radiohead, my own little inside joke since no one else seemed to know the band. other girls my age fawned over taylor swift and boys who barely looked old enough to be in high school. i felt like an old soul. 

“autumn!” another sharp rap on the door. “we have guests.”

guests? at 8 am? that piques my curiosity. 

“coming!” i reply and shimmy into my skinny jeans. 

i open my door and come face to face with my mother’s fuming nostrils. if my situation weren’t so pathetic and sad i’d almost find it funny. 

she takes my arm in a vice-like grip and smiles an ugly smile. 

“what have i done to be cursed with a child like you, huh? you couldn’t dress up even for today.”

“why, what’s—”

“hush now!” she chides, “go put on some lipstick and meet me downstairs in two minutes.”

she pushes my back into my room and shuts the door before i can tell her that i don’t own any make up. the most i can find is some tinted lip balm and old, crusty mascara. the only jewellery i can find is the heart shaped necklace from my dead father, so i quickly put it on. between that and my tattered old converse, i feel like the prettiest girl in the world. 

i roll my eyes at my sarcasm and make my way downstairs. 

the stairs creek in a familiar way and i don’t even notice that something feels way out of the ordinary until it’s too late. 

i don’t even notice the four men sitting on our torn old sofa until i’m right in front of them. 

my mother looks at me with a saccarine smile. “be a darling and make some tea for our guests, autumn.”

“no, that won’t be necessary,” one of them cuts in and for the first time i look at them properly. 

the one who’d just spoken is smaller in comparison to the other three. his arms are littered with tattoos, his hair curly and going in every possible direction. his eyes look hard and cold and brown. 

the other three nod in unison. 

“we need to finish the transaction and get going,” he speaks again and mother pales slightly. 

the…transaction?

“of course,” she smiles a fake smile and wrings her hands together. 

“i’m sorry, what’s—”

“autumn!” i shut up the instant she glares at me. i know that look. don’t speak until you’re spoken to. 

“you haven’t told her?” the other one speaks up. his voice is much deeper than his friend’s. his whole vibe is more intense than the rest of them. he’s all sharp cheekbones and bleached, buzzed hair and chipped nail polish. not a man of many words but something tells me people listen when he speaks. 

“i… of course i h-have,” my mother stutters and throws me a look. “she knows, don’t you, sweetheart? tell me.”

tell them what?! 

my heart hammers in my chest and i try to swallow the dryness away. “y-yes. i know”

all at once four pairs of striking orbs are on me and i blush from the intensity of their gazes. (🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🔵👄🔵) all the attention in the room is on me and with horror i realise they expect me to speak further. 

“she t-told me,” i stutter out and smile at my mother who looks like she’s swallowed a lemon. 

“and did she tell you who we are?”

i think about nodding again but there’s no way i can fib this. the truth it i’ve never seen these men before in my entire life. all i know is that if i went along with my mother’s lie, things might be good for me. even if it’s temporary. 

hesitantly, i shake my head. 

“we are the 1975,” the curly-haired man speaks and i cock my head to the side. what an odd little name… “and you’ve been sold to us.”

—

“sold?!” i screech as soon as they’re out of earshot. 

“ungrateful bitch,” she hisses back, “keep your voice down! i’ve taken care of you for twenty years and this is how you repay me?” 

“taken care—TAKEN CARE OF ME?” i bellow, unable to keep it down anymore. “all you did was drown yourself in a bottle of wine every night and left your child alone to take care of everything on her own. and now you’re asking me to repay you?!”

“don’t act like you’re a special little gem. the girl down the street was sold to five people last year and she went without any complains.”

my blood boils at the mention of her. lila rose… the girl down the street. no one had heard from her in a year and no one cared enough to find out anything. 

“don’t bring her into this,” i retort. the air around me feels charged and my entire body feels alive. never in my life have i talked to my mother like this before and now that i do, i feel… alive. 

i laugh at the irony. the most free i have ever felt in my life is after being sold to four men i do not know. 

my mother’s hand raises above her head and i know what’s coming—won’t be the first time she’s slapped me. the air around me shifts with the force of it and i flinch away, tightly closing my eyes. i brace myself for a slap… that never comes. 

slowly, bewildered, i open i eyes and come face to face with a… back? 

“you will not touch our property,” the man speaks and this is the first time i hear his voice. 

he’s impossibly tall, perhaps the tallest among them all. half his face is covered in a beard and his hair is tied up in a neat bun. and even when i’m offended at being called their “property”, i can’t help but feel a flutter in my stomach. 

he saved me from getting hurt. 

“o-of course,” my mother stutters. “i was just—”

“you were just…?”

he scoffs when she cannot answer and turns to look at me. 

for the first time i’m truly aware of just how big he is, just how he towers over me. the difference in our size leaves me speechless, and i tuck my hair behind my ears and flutter my lashes up at him. 

he smiles. “you have thirty minutes. go pack.”

—

back in my room a sense of sadness hits me for the first time. 

there’s nothing in this house that i’m going to particular miss, apart from my stack of secondhand paperbacks that is…

i thumb through the pages one last time and say goodbye knowing my mother won’t hesitate to use them as kindling the moment i’m gone. not like she’s ever read a book in her life… all she knows how to do is drink, party, cake her face with make up and obsess over men. 

i stuff my clothes into a tattered old duffel bag. there’s no make up i need to pack, just my favourite books and vinyl, if they even let me use them wherever they’re taking me. 

almost on dot, once my thirty minutes are up, the curly haired man from before enters my room. his lip curls in barely concealed disgust as he looks around my room—at the peeling wallpaper and the jane austen bedsheets on my bed, at the random niche band posters that i don’t expect him to know about (oasis, blur, arctic monkeys etc) but he’s gentle when he takes a hold of my hand. 

“let’s go, autumn raine.” he says and i refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. instead, i square my shoulders and blink my tears away. 

and then i close the door to my bedroom for the last time. 

autumn raine ↑ if you even care

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |I| Pirate!Eddie au

a/n: I know a lot of people were awaiting this fic and I am really sorry I could not deliver all the content I promised, but I really hope you enjoy this bit that I'm the proudest of and if you would like to see more of this au, please just send an ask and I'll be happy to share (but it would not be direct continuations. Just blurbs)

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.6k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 1: The Death of the Red Tail

“I dare say that we are all savages under the cloak that civilization fashions for us." - Rafael Sabatini, Captain Blood

You were startled awake, once more, by the sound of the metal scraping over the wooden planks. Again, the harsh noise pricked at your ears. Over the past few days, you had done your best to get used to all the loud noises aboard. Still, they tended to occur at the most random of times, usually when you had finally managed to fall asleep, pulling you right back to reality, which, ironically, was your nightmare. 

‘Didn’t mean to wake you up, Princess,’ the man chuckled, to which you did not respond. You never responded to what he, or any of them, had to say. Instead, you barely acknowledged him as he passed your jug of water between the steel bars. The roughness of his movements made the already meek amount spill out. ‘Breakfast’s served.’ 

It was dark below deck, with the only light coming through the small windows atop the walls, letting sun rays hit the ground at your feet in a circle. It was just enough of a light source for you to see what you were surrounded with. Barrels and crates filled with Gods know what. Next to you was a thin fleece that was supposed to keep you warm through the night but barely ever sufficed at its job. 

After the jug of water, he threw you your breakfast: a piece of stale bread and a severely bruised apple. The bread fell into your lap, but you managed to catch the fruit quite easily, which you then also put down in your lap, looking down at your old dirty dress, not saying a word. Miserably, you toyed with the slice of bread, the lack of appetite weirdly not corresponding to your hunger. The food was far from edible, but it was also the only thing that came close to it, so it would make due. You had taught yourself to fight through the dryness and tastelessness.

‘A thank you would be nice, Princess,’ he snarled, but you didn’t even look up at his comment. Ever since you had been brought down there, you had made it your goal to exchange as few words as possible with these men, even when they started rattling the bars around, trying to catch your attention. Even when they slammed their hands on it, making you jump. But, finally, after a third slam, you snapped.

‘You gone deaf, too, now?’ he spoke louder.

‘I would be more than happy to thank you if there was anything to be thankful for.’ You rolled your eyes. You had grabbed small opportunities to ask for more food and water, begging to be let out of the tiny cell to stretch your legs and get some fresh air and every time you were met with nothing. It was the definition of insanity, wasn’t it? To do the same thing expecting different results? But you weren’t expecting anything. You were hoping. Desperate that something would change one day, and the odds would turn in your favour. Just once. That was all you asked of the universe.

‘We could easily let you starve, so better shut it.’ He pointed at you sternly, but you knew it was a big bluff. And it angered you. A rage slowly cooking inside you rose to a boiling point. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

‘No, you shut it,’ as swiftly as you could manage on your weak legs, you got up and made your way over to the bars that separated you and the man. He backed away, clearly not having anticipated your sudden move, but he was too slow, and you still managed to snatch at his collar, pulling him back to you. Then, gritting your teeth, you spat your words into his face. ‘I have been stuck here for days, begging for the smallest amounts of decency from you, and so far, I have been laughed at in my face every. Single. Time. 

‘So, you can try and scare me with your empty threats, but I know you need me alive and well for you to get your gold. Dead, I am worth nothing. So, I doubt your captain would enjoy hearing that something happened to me on your watch.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ his eyes narrowed into tentative slits, as did yours. 

‘I don’t think you really want to wait and see if I do. Because I don’t know about you, but that rope over there looks like it would make a grand necklace. Do you think that beam up there could hold me up?’ you cocked your head up to a point at the ceiling. His eyes followed your movements and the rope hanging just arm’s length away from the holding cell. Suddenly, his throat tightened as he tried to swallow. 

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to get out of here,’ you said, gritting your teeth. You didn’t dare look away from his eyes, which were just as cold as you felt. You thought you might finally have cracked one of them for a second, but then he managed to pull himself out of your grip.  He kept muttering curse words directed at you as he climbed the stairs up the deck. ‘Remember, I have nothing to lose!’ you shouted out after him, one final attempt, just in time before he slammed the trapdoor behind him.

You sat back down. Heart beating against your ribs and a smile covering your lips for the first time in a long time. The adrenaline from the little stunt quickly deflated out of you, and you folded your legs into your chest.

It was stupid. It would only anger them more, and the last thing a person wants is to be stuck on a ship, in the middle of an ocean, with a crew of scoundrels. For people like them... the smallest of annoyances could cost you your life. No matter how much it was worth to them.

Biting into your apple, ignoring the slight sourness, you tried to keep your breathing steady. Then, with closed eyes, you listened to the sea hitting the ship's side as it sailed on through them. If you sat there long enough, you could almost make yourself believe that you were not locked up in a small cell at the bottom of a rotting ship. That you were, in fact, in your own cabin on the Red Tail. Your father’s ship, sailing home.

You were not meant to be there. You had insisted on coming along, wanting to see something of the world, being exhausted of never going further beyond the outskirts of your city. You had been yearning for that space.

It had been a sunny day, with just enough wind blowing through the sails to progress the journey, only a little longer until you would reach your destination. The crew was happy, relieved to be so close to the end. As much as it was an honour to work under the Governor’s orders, to sail for weeks on end over the open sea was a dangerous and exhausting task. 

Everything suddenly changed when someone yelled it out. You weren’t even sure what they had said, but by the reactions from everyone around you, it was easy to guess. 

Pirates.

Before you could even ask to be sure, you were dragged back inside to the Captain’s quarters and told to hide. So, hide, you did. 

It took the ship a while to make contact. And all this time, you remained seated under the oak desk. It was the calm before the storm. You knew the canons would soon go off, and the ships would be punched with holes. The pirates would jump ship; they would attack and destroy. You could hear it all happening outside. The swords clinking, the guns going off, the wreckage, and the screams. It was all too much. 

The minutes between the canons were the worst. Your ears were still ringing, and all you could do was anticipate the subsequent explosion and the shaking of your whole world. And then they would go off, and you had to do your best to follow the orders you were given. Be still and be quiet. They would take care of it. Your safety was everyone’s priority. 

And yet, you felt shame wash over you at the idea that you were hiding while the men were out there, fighting. You felt useless and small, like a child. Cradling yourself to make your being as small as you could underneath that desk. The canons only seemed to be getting louder and louder. You couldn’t block the thundering and destruction on the other side of the door. 

Perhaps you had screamed. You couldn’t remember. Everything was a blur. But something must have given you away in the end. How could they have known you were aboard? In the captain’s quarters? Nothing else made sense, but they heard your panic. They could sense it, being the predators they were.

It took all of your inner power not to scream when the door to the quarters burst open. At first, you thought a cannonball must have just burst through the wall, but it was much worse. Pairs of boots slowly made their way towards you. You closed your eyes and tried to stay calm; in your mind, the words of your mother’s lullaby swept by. The same old song she used to sing you during dark and stormy nights. That was all this was… a storm… and it would soon pass…

‘Gotcha,’ the voice sounded acidic and vile. You opened your eyes to be met with a pair of stormy grey ones, so cold it made your blood freeze. He smiled at you with a toothy grin, which only made you crawl back under the desk. There was nowhere for you to go, and he knew that. So did his lanky friend as they both reached out for you and pulled you out from beneath the furniture. Your skirt hiked up as it grazed over the floor, and you did your best to keep it down and over your legs. 

‘No, please, no,’ you tried to sound as assertive as possible, ignoring your urges to scream and cry out. With little care, they pulled you up on your feet. Standing face to face with them almost should have taken away some of your fear, for you realised they could not be much older than you, perhaps even younger, but you still felt your legs shake. 

‘You gonna come with us?’ he wouldn’t stop smiling at you, which was unnerving. But, of course, only a truly evil person would find joy in such circumstances, a severely disturbed and corrupt individual. 

You took your shot, trying to wring your arms out of their hold. You thought you might have slipped out of one of their grips for a second, but then he pushed you forward, nearly making you fall as you stumbled over your feet. With each step they made you take, you tried to defy them, thrash around like a freshly caught fish, really, much to your own embarrassment. But it wasn’t doing any good. The net just tightened around you with each attempt at freedom. 

You had imagined what was happening in the rest of the ship, but the reality you were met with was even worse. The vessel was in shambles. The broken mast had fallen, and the sails were ripped to shreds. The clinking of swords was still coming from all angles. Some of the men noticed you, captured by the enemies and tried to reach you. Fighting off the scoundrels with their long swords, to no avail. The fight was not a fair match. The people you travelled with were mostly sailors, never having learned how to fight correctly. They were all going off of survival instincts. 

You heard your name being called to you from the side, and you could see the worried face of admiral Carver as he pushed his way through lines of enemies. You made another attempt to free yourself from the men's grips, pulling yourself toward the admiral, the man appointed to keep you safe throughout your journey… to think that mere days ago, you had both joked he was nearly futile in these endeavours. 

The chaos around you ensued as men fought, bled, and died. 

The blood was everywhere. 

It was all going too fast. The hold the cruel men held on you was too tight to attempt anything, and before you knew what was happening, you were being led across the plank connecting the two ships. 

A gunshot went off. One of the men holding on to you went limp, letting go of you. You didn’t dare to look, but you could tell by the shift of weight on the wooden bridge that there was one person less standing beside you. And indeed, a second later, a splash followed as his body hit the water beneath you. 

Not by choice, you turned around the thin piece of wood as the other man holding you looked over to where the gunshot came from. Carver stood at the foot of the plank. Gun barrel still smoking, pointing right at your aggressor. The admiral had an admirable shot, so you had no worries about his aim. But that shot never came. The two men on the opposite sides of the bridge locked eyes with intimidation coming off both of them in great amounts, but the trigger was never pulled. Before Carver could, you screamed in horror as tears stung your eyes. 

You were pulled the few final steps across the plank, almost pushed down to the ground, for you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your loyal admiral falling to the deck of his ship. His white shirt was stained red, and the staining only grew larger and larger. He had just enough time to look down at his bleeding chest before he fell to his knees. The sword stuck out from his back. 

‘No!’ your scream pierced through everyone’s ears as you tried to get out of your capturer’s hold and run back to your own ship, to your people, but it was too late. They had removed the wood that connected the vessels. You were stuck, and the Red Tail seemed significantly smaller. 

It was sinking.

It only took a few minutes before everyone and the viscous sea ate everything you knew. Days later, it was still painful to look out at the horizon, seeing the vastness of the waters. 

The seemingly neverending darkness that had swallowed those who fought for you, hoping to keep you safe. And for what… you were now stuck in this prison. Eating the damned apple. For the first few days, you tortured yourself by refusing their offers of food. A form of protest that no one seemed to be much impressed by. The myths of poor Persephone had come to your mind in those moments. Thinking how the goddess had been tricked by the evil Hades, all for a measly pit of a fruit. 

But your body screamed for nutrients, and you could not deprive yourself much more of your own life. To die at sea could be an honour for many, but not in a dark cell captured by the enemy. You had no intentions of dying because of your stubbornness, but you would never give in to what they wanted. If it came to be, you would pass on your own terms.

It was days now since the Red Tail sank. During your first moments on board, you had a naive hope that you had not been the only person taken. That somewhere around, someone else was here with you. A known face, a name you didn’t have to fear. The idea of the possibility brought you a little comfort, but soon you realised the harsh truth. You were entirely on your own here. But worse, even, was that you realised that, perhaps, death in battle and the fierce ocean waves would have been a kinder sentence than the horrors awaiting you aboard this vessel. 

It had all started in the moments the Red Tail was abandoned. You kept your eyes on its crow nest, reaching out from above the water like a desperate hand in need of a saviour. 

But you had no option but to dwell on the wreckage or the lost souls of your friends. Not when you were surrounded by dozens of men looking hungrily at you as if you were nothing but a piece of meat for them to devour. They were closing in on you; there was nowhere to go. Any direction you looked… 

Surrounded by wild men screaming and tugging at you from each side, pulling you from side to side like a rag doll. They all wanted a little fun, but playtime was cut short rather quickly by the simple sounds of boots tapping over the floorboards. Everyone looked up as his voice loomed over everybody:

‘Well, well, well, what do we have here?’ It sounded almost whimsical, bemused. Everyone froze as the captain approached his crew. Even you did, looking up as he walked down the quarterdeck towards the large helm. The floor creaked with each step. The chains and beads hanging around his neck and hair accompanied him in a chorus. Not another word needed to be shared.

He stood there, looking down at what was occurring beneath him. Fingers clad in silver and gold rings tapping away at the handles of the ship’s wheel. When you looked a few inches higher, you recognised that his eyes were directly on you. There was no hiding or denying it. He was staring deep into your eyes. The corner of his mouth tilted up in the slightest smirk. The position in which the two of you stood made you feel like you were some kind of act for him. An entertainment piece for him to enjoy in his own time despite you being surrounded by all his men. It felt perverse. Disgusting. You quickly turned away. 

But the image of those dark brown eyes stuck with you. Days later, and it still haunted you, the day you met Captain Eddie Munson.

The name was not much by itself. The stories that followed it brought fear onto people’s faces. For years now, you had overheard the people back home speaking tales of the notorious ocean bandit. The man who had sailed the seas with sails as dark as his eyes and soul.

You had never expected much from a man with a name like that, but you were quickly proven wrong. 

The respect he had gained over the crew was evident; you could see it just by how everyone had paved the way for their captain and his strides of confidence as he made his way down onto the deck. There was an energy that came from within him, this dangerous confidence. Maybe because of this, you felt like ignoring his eye contact would be a shot worth taking, something to crack that filthy grin on his face as he neared you. The crew had widened their circle to make space for their captain and you, but you took a step back at each he brought forward. Your attempt was quickly stopped by whoever pushed you again right into his chest. The captain grinned at the collision, almost politely, apologetically, but it made you sick to the stomach. 

He looked up from you to look at his men. 'Is anyone going to answer me?' his voice carried, making you flinch from your proximity to it, just like the canons. It was too loud. Your ears had almost stopped ringing from the explosions.

'Was hiding in the officer's quarters, she was.' Someone called out from behind Captain Munson, which must have interested him. To be a woman in the officer's quarters on a ship like yours… meant status. You could tell he looked at you intently but would not give him the satisfaction, and your eyes did not give him the time of day, instead focusing on the highest mast and the sail flickering softly in the wind. Not pitch black like the tales told, but a sunburned copper. Even despite this, you could feel his look on you. He was taking all of you in, grinning over his newest conquest. 

'And what was a pretty thing like her doing up there?' While his question was directed at everyone else but you, he dug his eyes deep into your soul. They were pulling you in, trance-like. A pair of irises darker than amber but just as warm and beautiful. A facade for a lie, as there was only cold and darkness beyond the warm hue, the cursed soul of a criminal. You had heard stories of men like him, but to find yourself in the midst of them, knowing it was more true than any other tale told at sea, to be held captive as if in an inescapable nightmare… 

Being oppressed into looking him in the eyes, you couldn't help but think how he, and his comrades, could have been perfectly fine young men in any other life. Maybe they even had been until the ocean took them, poisoned them with the cursed fruit of the sea. Corruption was so quickly and easily committed.

His hand, filthy, covered in tattoos and heavy rings, reached out for your cheek, which you quickly turned away from him as far as possible. You had hoped it would show him you weren't some fragile little girl, that you weren't just easy prey, but the laughter that erupted around you proved you wrong. He chuckled as his fingers found a new grip on your chin, turning your face back harshly, so you had no other option but to look him in the eye again.

‘Name, my darling,’ he smiled wickedly, squeezing your cheeks until you could feel the tips of his fingers against your teeth before letting your face go, ‘come, speak up, or that tongue will have to find a new use for itself.’ His words came out like a hiss of a snake.

'I am not your darling,' you spat once he had released you, to little effect as more laughter kindled from the men around you. You wondered how much time you would have from the shock value if you went on a rampage and started to kick all of them in their most sensitive parts. How many would you be able to get through before one of the others would grab you, possibly throw you overboard? 

The Captain kept on smiling. 'I must call you something if you do not care to share your name with us, my darling.' His erring grin burned your skin like a hot kettle fresh off the fire. 

'Carver called her something, Captain,' someone had shouted out, and Munson’s reaction was immediate when they repeated your name. His eyes widened, his grin spiked at the corners, showing his teeth, and his brown eyes glistened with enthusiasm. Then, jaggedly, as if remembering something suddenly, he moved his head around, looking around.

'Carver? Our dear friend Carver?' He looked around for whoever it had been that had spoken up a second ago, 'where is that pesky little–'

'Stabbed,' the crewmate responded, 'bled out on the ship,' a chorus of cackling surfaced among the men, but the captain looked a bit disappointed, hiding his amusement. Meanwhile, the mention of what you witnessed moments before stung you deep within.

'Shame. I would have liked to have seen that,' he said, with astonishing indifference covering his face, then he turned to you again, 'so, you were Carver's little toy, huh? I assure you, dear, you'll have much more fun here than with that stale little bilge rat.'

'I am nobody's toy.' You held back on shoving the man away or trying to act out of self-defence against any of his movements, knowing that upsetting him would not end in any better scenario than you were in at that given moment. 

'No, no,' he chuckled, pouting his lips in a manner of mocked sympathy, ‘A princess like you takes what she wants, don't you? We're similar in that way, I feel like— Where did you find her, Henderson, the officer's quarters, was it?' Perhaps the rest of his crew had been too slow to catch onto their captain's thoughts, but you could tell by the glint in his eye that he knew exactly who you were. 

'If you know who I am,' you tried your luck, pushing your voice out as steady and loud as possible to convict some confidence, 'then you must release me at once!' you tried to fight the situation. Still, there was very little you could do to gain a reaction out of this crowd that had not originated in humour. Some men asked around, still trying to catch up on what was happening. 

‘Now, why would I do that?’ The captain spoke directly to you, leaning in closer. So close you could smell the rum wafting off him. But he quickly leaned back to address his crew once more, answering all the inquiries in the crowd. 'This here, gents, is no one less than the Governor's daughter!'

It may have been silly of you to think that if they knew your status and position, they would find some newly gained respect for you. You would even find some small ounce of respect toward them as long as they would release you back to safety. But where would that even be… with your trusty ship now slowly greeting the bottom of the sea.

On the contrary, they had lost any image of you. From that moment on, you had become their most-priced possession. No plea would do good for it. It did not matter that mere minutes ago, you had seen them all make their way back, faces happy and arms full of treasures belonging to your family. What good were these riches when the real treasure stood tall in their centre? You were the one thing that would bring in the motherload they had been searching for for so long.  

The captain looked back at you. 'Do not worry; we shall release you straight back into your father's arms– for a reasonable price, that is,' he looked around at his men, who all once again erupted in a jolly sea of laughter, matching his much softer depiction of humour. 'But for now….' He dramatically removed his hat as his unbrushed locks grazed the floor at his bow. When he rose back up, his grin had spread to the widest corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with menacing mischief, freezing your core at the thought of what he could possibly be holding back in his mind. 'Welcome aboard the Hellfire.' 

The Hellfire. A crew that rampaged and torched anything that came in their way. Ships, harbours, cities, entire islands even… nothing stood a chance against the devils of the ocean… Devils, that’s what they were. Some truly believed they had all been cursed by something dark. Their lives had been given up to work for Satan as his harbingers of death and chaos. 

But you would only see a little of the ship or experience much more time with these men, as, not long after your introduction, you were dragged down below deck and locked behind the thick steel bars. The captain kept his eyes locked on you until you disappeared into the trapdoor. His smile never faded. And so, it was a dreadful sight to see that days– perhaps even months– later, the smile still persisted. 

How long precisely this nightmare had lasted, you were unsure. Or maybe you knew exactly. Would it have been better to lose count of the days and nights you had spent in this hell and think you might have lost your mind? Or to remember everything exactly how it had been, knowing what was and what would follow? For now, you were somewhere in between and unsure of what direction to go. A grey limbo where your body and mind were fighting themselves. Whether to give up or keep on battling your enemies. To forget would be to ease the pain, but it would also feel like losing the battle. Something you were not ready to do just yet. Though the memories still haunted your dreams. Was any of it worth it? That was the question that kept you up. 

And it was answered, more or less, when the trapdoor opened. Just as you were about to take your last bite of the apple. 

‘Will it be the rope then?’ you shouted as the footsteps came down to your level. Suddenly the apple felt much juicier, sweeter, and better than anything you had tasted in weeks. The odds would be in your favour, and you would get your way… even if it meant a measly ten minutes out in the cold sea air. 

‘Be my guest, princess.’ The voice immediately made your stomach drop. The sweet taste of the fruit turned bitter, the bread even drier. You looked up in horror as Captain Munson appeared out of the shadows. He leaned against the thick bars that imprisoned you. Then, when no response came from you after a long moment, he asked, ‘what? Not so brave anymore, are we?’ The chuckle that followed was deep but genuine. He was enjoying everything about your fear and you; you could not let that stand. 

With shaky legs, you got up and took the two steps to your barricade. Facing the captain should have been terrifying, but you were using your stubbornness to push any fears aside for the time being. As confidently as possible, you clenched your fists around two of the bars, gritted your teeth, and demanded: ‘Let me out.’

‘Have your parents never taught you manners, my darling?’ He did not seem to be phased by your attitude. 

‘You dare speak of manners to me?’ You could not keep yourself composed. Heat was rising to your cheeks with anger. ‘You? The man that has kept me locked in a cage for days?’ Who knew where this confidence came from in front of the notorious pirate captain? If anyone had seen you act out like this as opposed to such a dangerous criminal as he was, they would assume you had a death wish, yet this was your attempt at survival.

He reached his hand out to brush it over your cheek, and unable to react quickly; you let him. It was as if his touch had a numbing power over you, freezing you in place. His skin was hot, assumably from staying out on the deck during the day, steering the ship whichever way you were going. But then his rings, a sobering cold. His voice was as smooth as the rum he burned it with. ‘Do you blame me for wanting to keep my treasure save?’ 

‘You are despicable.’ You hissed out, and suddenly his gentle touch roughened up. His fingers wound their way through your hair, and with a firm tug, he pulled you forward, nearly smashing your face against the bars. His voice was distorted with a growl as he warned you. 

‘You don’t even know the half of it, darling,’ you were so close to each other, only separated by the metal rods, you could feel his breath on you. There was that distinct smell of rum followed by… cinnamon. There was no way you could focus on that, however. Not when he pulled at your hair harder. ´If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have that pretty dress, no more. Let alone even have food to disgust over. Besides–’  He let go of your hair, pushing you back and you let go of the breath you had been holding in. ‘This attitude really does not suit you.’ 

As you let your lungs fill with a fresh breath, you watched the captain inhale slowly. He was composing himself. And when he looked back up at you, from a first glance, it looked as if he had pushed aside the part of him that had just grabbed you. All except for his eyes. They were still dark and filled with the devil’s fury.

‘So,’ he spoke calmly, ‘is there a reason why you threatened your life to my incompetent men for the– what is it– fifth time?’ You had a request, did you?’ Was he really giving you a chance? Trying to mimic his calm stature, you repeated your demand. 

‘Let me out.’ 

To this, he raised an eyebrow. Did you not learn anything from the interactions that just occurred between you?  Why, yes, you did, so you added one last determined word: ‘Now.’ 

Against all expectations, he laughed and reached for a set of keys that hung on the wall next to your jail. It must have been a well-thought-out joke because it had always been just out of your arm’s reach, no matter how you angled or stretched yourself out. Because you naturally had tried to reach for it across your first nights of capture when most of the crew was asleep– you didn’t want to be caught trying to escape. 

The captain took the key, it rattled on its large ring, and turned it in the lock. With a rusty croak, the barred door opened. He extended his arm invitingly, but you stood frozen in place. What was happening? 

‘Isn’t this what you wanted?’ He looked up at you, one arm hooked between the bar, the other nudging you to move with a wave. ‘Well, go on then. Be free.’ He knew exactly what he was doing, and you realised it at the sound of his last word. 

Despite your cage finally being open, unlike a bird, you could not fly away and truly escape this ghost of a ship. You had nowhere to go. For days, you had thought it would be alright if only you could get out of this jail. Reality hit much harder. It was much worse. Out in the middle of the vast sea, there was nowhere for you to go. The ship was your true prison. 

You remained in your spot, frozen. Finally, the captain nodded satisfactorily and removed the key from the lock but kept the door open.

‘I’ll be on my way now if you do not mind, darling’ He chuckled again. It had quickly become one of your most hated sounds in the world, ‘but do join us on deck if you ever feel like putting on another performance such as this. I would suggest something of the likes of Shakespeare, though– much less hysterics.’  

You wanted to scream at him, run up to him and hit him with every ounce of power in your body, but you couldn’t. He could easily overpower you, and God only knew what would happen. Keeping a distance was better. It was safe.

 From that point on, the jail door stayed open. With it, another realisation came to light.

That steel barred door, now swinging and creaky as the ship crossed the waters, had been the one thing that kept you safe. It had been a barrier between you and the wild men of the ship. 

Now, for whatever reason, they kept to themselves. Depending on who had drawn the short stick to bring you a meal, you only came into contact with one or two crewmates a day. There was no eye contact and no more conversation attempts. You had become like an animal they just tried to keep alive until you reached your destination or until boredom hit… and you weren’t sure if it was for the better or worse. 

Chapter 2

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[hornyhornyhimbos]

"Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: Reader strikes up a conversation with Steve, who unbeknownst to her, is the best bull rider in all of Indiana. When the two strike up a conversation, it turns out this cowboy has plans for Reader.

Pairing: Bull Rider!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 5,353

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) PROTECTED piv sex, cowgirl AND missionary activities hehehe, maybe dubcon bc they were lowkey under the influence, one night stand, oral f!receiving, fingering f!receiving, overstimulation, multiple orgasms for reader, explicit language, steve def has a power kink, alcohol consumption, blasphemy toward the Greek Gods (sorry), nicknames (sweetheart, princess, baby; cowboy, god), maybe modern!au idrk, lmk if i missed anything!

Extra Notes: mayhaps i am a wh0re

Based On: some thots™️ that me and Georgia had (also slightly inspired by this reel i watched recently)

Originally Written: 03/12/2023 through 03/14/2023

Beta Read By: @dungeons-are-too-cold (literal bestie, love u so much for working on this fic with me)

stranger things masterlist can be found here!

hornyhornyhimbos ask box can be found here!

The air smelled of freshly poured booze and a hundred sweaty bodies as you walked into "The Lucky Shot."

You spotted the bar across the giant room, marveling at the glimmering and flashing of the lights as you made your way through the crowd. Your heart pounded in time with the country song that blared through the speakers.

You weren't really sure what possessed you to go to a random bar in a strange city during the middle of your work trip. Maybe it was your constant craving for a difference in your somewhat boring career. Maybe it was the secret wanderlust that often sat in the back of your mind. Maybe it was just because you wanted a really good margarita. Whatever the case, you sure as hell weren't regretting your decision when your eyes locked on him.

He was beautiful, the kind of beautiful only talked about in Greek mythology. From the brown strands that perfectly framed his chiseled face, to the hazel that swirled around his pupils, to the beige Stetson that sat upon his head, everything about this man was simply beautiful. If Apollo wore a cowboy hat, you were sure this would be him.

Your stomach did a somersault when you sat down on the only stool left, which conveniently happened to be next to this country god.

A couple moments later, your cocktail arrived, and you caught another glimpse of the room as you started drinking. Your eyes darted toward the dance floor, and when you spotted the mechanical bull on one side of the room, you felt mesmerized by it. Specifically, the thought of him on top of it. His hips swaying to the loud music, one hand holding onto his hat. There was no way it wouldn't be the prettiest sight imaginable.

"It's all in the hips, you know."

You turned to face the voice. It was thick like molasses, the perfect mixture of sweet and rough to your ears. "What?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed together as you finally made eye contact with him.

"It's all in the hips," he repeated, pointing his chin toward the mechanical bull.

You fidgeted with your straw, positive that if you didn't keep your hands preoccupied, you'd tear his clothes off right there. "Uh-huh," you simply said, unsure if you could get anything else out.

"Really. You just have to know how to… angle them correctly."

Your mind raced with dirty thoughts at the emphasis he'd used. You managed to take a sip of your drink, trying your hardest to wash them away. "You seem pretty certain."

One of his eyebrows cocked upward almost as if to confirm your statement. "That, I am, ma'am," he said with a nod and a tip of his hat towards you.

"Hmm," you hummed, taking a long swig of your cocktail in hopes of wetting down the dryness of your throat. "Alright, Tom? Dick? Harry?"

"Steve," he clarified. No other name would do this cowboy justice.

"Steve," you repeated, and the word felt like honey to your lips, "why don't you show me?"

His arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, the tee shirt that covered his skin becoming extra taut. "What's in it for me?"

You shrugged, sipping down the last of your drink. "I suppose… whatever you want, cowboy."

"Hmm," he hummed, taking the last swig of his beer. "How 'bout this? If you can stay on longer, you get my number. If I stay on longer, I get yours."

You scoffed, your tongue darting out to lick your lips. "You're lucky you're cute," you chirped. "OK, cowboy, you're on."

He stood first, holding out a hand to help you down from the barstool. "After you, pretty lady."

You felt a rush of blood shoot through your body as he led you to the bull, and you'd be lying if you said you weren’t anxious.

"Ladies first," he smiled, lifting you up onto the mechanical bull. His hands felt rough and big on your hips, and you nearly fell off the bull before it even started up.

The operator counted you down from three, but even that wasn't enough to brace you. You held onto the handle for dear life, moving your pelvis to the best of your ability. What felt like an eternity later, you fell onto the blue mat, your heart nearly falling through the floor as you landed.

"Five seconds," he said with your back still flat on the cushiony floor. "Impressive."

He held out his hand once again, and you gladly took it. Suddenly, you were pulled up close to him. His eyes shot through you and it was then that you noticed the musky scent of his cologne. You had to collect yourself for a moment, excusing the clear sexual tension for pure competition."Let's see you do better, cowboy."

He slung his leg over the machine, gripping the handle and lifting his left hand into the air. You couldn't help but notice how thick the muscles on his biceps were. Get it together, you thought, but he just looked so natural on the bull. Like he belonged up there. You couldn't help the feeling that settled in your chest.

"Sound me off!" he shouted over the crowd.

You and the operator counted down in sync, and his hips practically assaulted the bull as the machine started up again. You were mesmerized by the movements. Now you definitely weren't regretting taking him up on his offer.

His hips twisted against the fake saddle, and you could just barely see the outline of his cock behind his giant belt buckle and those tight jeans. You watched the way he winded on the bull, wishing it was you he was humping like that.

Even as he fell off the bull, he looked beautiful. He landed flat on his back, letting out a triumphant, "WOOOOOP!" followed by a chuckle. "I believe I hit twenty seconds."

"No fucking way," you argued, turning toward the bull operator, who just answered with a confirming nod.

"How'd you do that?" you challenged.

"I told you, it's all in the hips, sweetheart."

Your arms crossed defensively, your eyes narrowing in on him. You chose to ignore the pleasant feeling building in your stomach with his new nickname for you. "Do you hustle all the women around here for their phone number?"

He folded his arms in front of his broad chest, almost mocking your stance. A stupid, taunting smile was plastered across his face too. "Hey, it's not on me if you don't know you're talking to Indiana's bull riding state champ."

Your mouth fell open in pure shock at his words. If any one person was made for that career, you thought, it would be him.

His eyebrows raised. "You seem surprised."

You gulped down the lump of disbelief in the back of your throat. "A little."

"Should've just read my belt buckle, sweetheart."

You had to fight the urge to look down at his crotch, which was unsurprisingly not the first time you'd had to fight that urge. It had definitely been one hell of a night so far.

"Go on," he instructed. "You know as well as I do that you're curious."

You exhaled a deep breath you'd been holding, eyes locked on the giant buckle as you forced them not to wander lower. Pain is temporary, victory lasts forever, it read, with the date of the championship engraved below.

You had to force yourself to meet his gaze again. "So what do they call you?"

"The Hawk," he replied nonchalantly. "What about you? What do they call you, sweetheart?"

"Y/N," you answered, not even trying to force your mouth closed. He spoke, and you answered, and somehow, you didn't care in the slightest.

You shook your thoughts away, willing yourself to focus on what had just gone down. "You know what? Not important," you blurted, shaking your head. "I want a rematch, Mr. The Hawk," you mocked.

You looped your arms in front of you once again. You wanted to challenge this man to anything you could find. Eventually your eyes landed on the dartboard. Jackpot.

After all, if Steve could hide the fact that he was a professional bull rider, you could hide the fact that you'd been playing darts with your father since you were old enough to hold one. "Darts."

He smirked, walking toward the dartboard. "Alright, sweetheart, you name the stakes this time."

"Fine," you rebutted with a smirk of your own, "whoever gets closer to the bullseye gets to ask the other a question. If they don't wanna answer, they have to take a shot."

He seemed pleased, giving you a crooked smile. "How 'bout this? We each get a Jack and Coke and take a nice big swig of it every time we don't answer."

Your eyebrows ruffled in confusion. "Why does it matter what we drink?"

He leaned in close to your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "I want you as close to sober as possible if things go in the direction I'm hoping for."

Your airway felt tight as you processed his words. You felt lightheaded when you answered, "Understandable."

He shot you another smile before heading back to the bar for a couple drinks. Your legs wobbled as you gathered the darts. You watched his hips sway in time to the music while he waited for the drinks, and all but drooled over the way his ass looked in those tight blue jeans. And I thought the front looked good, you smirked internally.

Soon enough, he came back with the drinks, placing them on the table next to the darts. "Two Jack and Cokes," he confirmed. "Like I said earlier, ladies first."

You tossed the dart, landing almost directly in the middle of the board. He threw next, landing a little above where yours was.

Your mind raced, carefully considering every question you could ever ask him. Truth be told, you wanted to keep winning, not only for the sake of being better than him at something, but also because you wanted to find out every little detail you could about this Country Apollo.

"Hmmm. How long have you been riding bulls?"

"Since freshman year of college," he explained. "I rode horses a lot of the time while I was growing up, did the whole bucking bronco thing, so I thought I'd test the waters. See if it was something for me. Guess it was, all things considered." He gestured to the belt again, almost like a taunt, but your eyes stayed on his, cold and steely.

You threw again, the dart sticking to the single area, prompting you to groan at how bad your aim suddenly was. It had to be the drawl of his voice distracting you.

His dart stuck in the single area as well, slightly closer to the middle of the board. "I believe that makes it my turn."

You nodded. "That it does, cowboy."

"What's your story? You here for business or pleasure?"

You planned on answering anyway, but still took a small sip of the cocktail to wet your lips. "This city? Business. This bar? Pleasure."

About a half hour passed of you spitting questions back and forth. Your drinks were both about halfway finished, mostly from sipping. You had both been pretty bold with your answers, and questions for that matter.

Your arm felt tired from all the dart throwing, and if you had to be honest, the more you found out about him, the more you wanted to jump his bones. "Alright, I don't know about you, but I'm about ready to get out of this place."

He chuckled at the hint of eagerness in your voice. "Me too."

"I say we throw one last dart."

His expression read one of confusion and curiosity. "What're the stakes this time, sweetheart?"

A rush of heat pooled in your stomach as you carefully thought about how to word your answer. Confidence came over you as you finally figured out what you wanted. "OK, cowboy. If you win, I take you back to my place," you started, stealing the Stetson right off his head and placing it on your own, "But if I win, and I will, you take me back to yours."

His tongue darted out to wet his lips, eyes dark as he said, "Well, princess, I think someone needs to remind you of the cowboy hat rule."

You nearly snorted. "What the hell is that?" Your heart fluttered at the nickname, secretly hoping he'd continue using it.

"You wear the hat," he said, taking his hat back, "you ride the cowboy it belongs to."

Your thighs closed together as discreetly as possible while you picked up the darts. You placed one in his hand, your fingers shaky as you released it.

Even in your desperate state, you managed to toss the dart at the board, the dart sticking almost directly in the middle of the bullseye. "Hmm, lucky shot."

Steve's face was one of confidence, even when he threw the dart and it landed in the single area. "Huh," he said plainly, "Guess we're going back to my place."

You were quite positive he'd fucked up on purpose, but chose to ignore for the sake of not staying in your bleak, boring hotel room again.

The ride to his place was absolute hell. His hand on your thigh, his muscles tight in the flannel he'd thrown on, the sultry country music playing quietly on his radio.

The comments Steve made the whole way certainly didn't help you either. He was "sweetheart" this and "princess" that, and he certainly didn't shy away from telling you every little thing he wanted to do to you, making sure you were still okay every once in a while. He even offered to drive you back to your hotel at any point, but you reassured him you wanted this. Probably even more than he did. Hell, if the vehicle hadn't been moving, you would've taken him right there in the front seat of his truck.

From the moment he unlocked the door, he couldn't keep his hands off you. His fingertips slipped through your belt loops immediately upon entering his house. He barely succeeded in kicking the front door closed behind him as his lips met your neck.

"Aren't you gonna give me a tour?" you teased, your hands slipping into his back pockets. Damn, the fit was tight.

He snickered into your shoulder. The vibration was absolutely intoxicating against your skin. "Well, this is the living room. And I fully plan on laying you back on that couch before the night is over."

You easily kicked off your sneakers, Steve letting out an aggravated groan as he remembered his boots. "But first I'm gonna have to sit on it to take off these goddamn boots of mine," he complained, plopping onto the couch in frustration.

You giggled as he started to pry one of them off. "I don't know," you sang. "Next time, you could just leave 'em on. It's kinda sexy."

His head shook in disbelief. "You keep saying things like that and you're gonna be the damn death of me, sweetheart."

You sat down on his lap, your ass winding down on his leg as your lips made contact with his. He struggled to hold you up and take his boot off at the same time. He decided on putting his focus solely on you, choosing to worry about his boots later.

You clutched his shoulders, maneuvering him to lie back on the couch. Your hips ground onto his thigh, and you let out a whimper against his lips. The friction was absolute heaven to your cunt, feeling your heat make contact with his even fully clothed.

His hands clung to your waist, guiding you along the fabric of his jeans. "Mmm," he hummed against your lips, "You're so good at this."

You let out an amused huff, moving from his lips to his jaw. You placed a hard kiss on the stubble. "Bet you're even better. You should teach me sometime. How to angle my hips correctly, that is."

His head fell back in pleasure. A soft moan fell from his lips, and you felt quite proud of the way he was falling apart beneath you.

His grip tightened on your hips as he pulled the two of you up from the couch. You whimpered in protest, but he just said, "Gotta finish the rest of the tour, princess."

He finished kicking his boot off before heading toward the next room. His lips made contact with your skin again as he began leading you through the rest of the house. His fingers returned to your belt hoops, tugging you ever so close. "This is the kitchen. Definitely planning on bending you over that table while we wait for breakfast to finish cooking in the morning."

He led you down the hall, stopping in front of the bathroom. "Gonna pound you against those tiles after we get done in my favorite room of the house," he said, cocking his head towards the shower.

Finally, he ushered you into the bedroom. His hands parted from your waist to flick on the lamp. "And this is my favorite room. The bedroom. The room where you're gonna ride me into the sunset. Or sunrise, all things considered."

His room was quite different from what you'd imagined. He had white walls, which you were sure would only enhance the sunlight in the morning when you woke up beside him. His white bedsheets and deep brown quilt looked so welcoming that you wouldn't even fight if he asked you to stay for the rest of your trip. Maybe even the rest of your life if he wanted.

Your stomach fluttered with pure want as he tossed off his flannel, followed by his shirt. All you could do was stand and watch him strip. His abs were nothing short of glorious, glowing in the pale bedroom light. You wanted to leave scratches and bites and bruises down them. You wanted to memorize every divot and ridge of his body.

His lips met yours again, and his hands were back on your body. They roamed down your torso, meeting the hem of your shirt. "Can I take this off?"

"Uh-huh," you breathed out, trying your hardest not to moan already.

His face fell teasingly. "Aw, you're gonna have to do better than that, sweetheart."

Your cunt clenched around nothing at his dominance. "Yes, Stevie. You can do whatever you want to me tonight."

His hips bucked into yours when you called him Stevie, persuading you to add it to your vocabulary for the night. He lifted the shirt from your body, his eyes going glassy as they fell on your boobs. "I'll take you up on that offer, princess."

His hand moved to his hat, tossing it onto the bed lightly. You took a second to admire his curls and waves, sure that you would get lost in them if he allowed you to. As he laid back on the bed, he held your hips and guided you to straddle his waist. With a soft movement of his fingers, he undid the clasp of your bra and slid it agonizingly slow off your body. His mouth made contact with one of your tits while he occupied the other with one of his coarse hands.

Your hands grasped at his jeans but struggled to undo the giant buckle. He chuckled, eliciting a mewl from you as the vibration rumbled against your body. He lifted your hips out of the way before undoing his jeans and kicking them off, his mouth not leaving yours. After finally getting out of his own pants, he moved onto yours.

He flipped the two of you over, your back arching away from the mattress. He sucked on your nipple as he slowly helped you out of your jeans and underwear. You kicked them away, nearly shivering as you heard them hit the floor. As his hands led you further up the bed, your head crashed into his pillows. They smelled like him and it made you smile.

"Ah-ah," he tutted as he moved down your body towards the foot of the bed. His lips met your mound for a second, leaving a soft kiss right above where you needed him most. "Don't get too comfortable laying down. You'll only be like this until I'm satisfied, yeah?"

"Y-Yeah," you answered, your nipples feeling neglected since he parted from them. You let your own hands wander towards your breasts, giving your nipples a tug, still desperate for friction there. Pure shock exploded in your body though as his lips met your thigh, inching toward your entrance.

Your hands flew to his hair on instinct, tugging on the soft strands as he licked a stripe up your cunt. "Stevie," you sighed, your grip tightening.

His mouth moved up to your clit, suckling on your sensitive bud. "Mmm," he praised against you, letting you know he was tasting the most delicious thing on the planet. The rumble of his voice egged your orgasm on and your legs began to shake already.

He left a trail of kitten licks from your clit to your hole, his tongue thrusting in the exact rhythm you needed it. Your legs tightened around him, and you found yourself struggling not to push him away.

"Hey," he stopped you, pulling your legs apart with his rough hands. "You remember what my belt says?"

You looked down at him between your legs to refocus yourself, meeting his beautiful eyes. Your senses were in absolute overdrive at his words. "Pain is t-temporary, victory lasts f-forever."

"I want that to be your mantra tonight, because I've still got a while with you yet."

You moaned pornographically as he met your core again, and this time his mouth was accompanied by his fingers. "Oh, god."

His lips parted from you, his fingers still working fast at your hole. "What was that? Couldn't hear you."

"Oh, my god." Your head fell back and eyes rolled as the digits brushed against your g-spot.

"That's right, princess," he said, licking another line up your puffy cunt. "I'm your god tonight."

Your first orgasm of the night rushed through your body, your essence gushing on his tongue. Apollo had nothing on this man, you were sure of it.

He didn't give up though and continued sucking hard on your clit. Your body convulsed at the stimulation. Your hands clung to his hair, struggling to push him away. "Oh, god, Steve!"

He removed his lips for a split second. "You tell me to stop and I’ll stop," he said, his tone of genuine concern.

"No, god, please don't stop!" you cried out. Your grip was becoming even tighter on his hair.

"Then I need you to remember the words, baby." His mouth absolutely assaulted your pussy, but you were sure you didn't want anything else at that moment.

"Pain is temporary, victory lasts forever," you repeated, your feet digging into his shoulders where they dangled. "Pain is temporary, victory lasts forever."

You could tell that hearing the phrase fall from your lips was affecting him just as much as he was affecting you. You watched his hips roll against the mattress below, desperately searching for any friction he could find. Still, he was dedicated to pulling one more orgasm out of you with just his mouth and hands.

He stayed like that until you came again, and a string of profanities was all you could manage to say. "Fuckfuckfuck," you muttered, your walls pulsing around his tongue.

"Oh, god, please!" you begged, his mouth licking up every last bit of your taste.

His mouth moved up to yours as he hovered above your body, and to say that your taste on his tongue was anything less than sexy would've been a lie. "I think I got you good and loosened up for me, princess. You ready for the fun part?"

You mewled, your hips bucking at nothing as your hands met his skin. One of your hands slipped into his boxers, and already you could tell that he was big.

He hovered over you, his legs straddling your hips, as he reached toward the nightstand. You had only just realized how long his limbs were. He pulled out a condom and slipped it into your hand. "OK," he instructed, "Go ahead. Open it."

You eagerly complied with his simple command. He made quick work of pulling his boxers off and tossing them into the pile with the rest of the discarded clothing as you made an effort to tear open the foil. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, thinking about what it must be like to take all of him down your throat. He was just so big, and you knew one taste would be all it took to have you utterly addicted.

As he settled above you again, you finally pulled the rubber out of the packet. "Now put it on me," he demanded.

Before you managed to inch forward and take him between your lips, he moved your hands to his cock, helping you roll the rubber on. I guess I’ll just have to wait until morning, you thought to yourself.

Rolling the condom onto his length was definitely not an easy task. Between the thickness of his dick and the shakiness of your hands, it seemed impossible. After what felt like an eternity, you finally managed to get it on him, completely captivated at the way his length felt in your palms. You gave it a few experimental strokes and the groans you dragged from his lips were beautiful.

While you finished up with the condom, Steve reached into the nightstand again, grabbing a bottle of lube. He squeezed some onto his fingers, slipping them inside you once more. You moaned loud enough that it echoed off his walls and a chuckle fell from his lips. "You think that feels good. Just wait for what I've got planned for you."

He moved to lie flat beside you, squeezing a couple drops of lube onto your fingers. "Lube me up?" he asked.

There was no way you could ever say no to that. Your hand met his dick, massaging the liquid down the shaft. A groan tumbled from his lips, and you wanted to play it on repeat for the rest of your life.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you on top again, forcing you to face him. His hands squeezed at your love handles as he cooed, "Come here, baby."

Your mouth felt like it had been sewn shut as he guided you into his lap. He grabbed the previously abandoned Stetson, now setting it on your head and looking you over like he could absolutely devour you. "Go ahead, cowgirl. Giddy up."

You keened as you sunk down onto him, barely getting the tip inside you before your head fell back. "Oh, my god."

"That's it, princess, you got it," he cooed, lowering you down his length. You whined as he slowly reached the hilt, his cock surely hitting your cervix.

His hands carried you, rocking your hips in the perfect rhythm he needed. His mouth fell into an open 'o' as you rutted against him. "Just like that."

His cock was made for splitting you open, you were convinced. The only word for the sensual, blissful feeling he brought you was heaven. You'd died and gone to heaven, and this was Apollo you were looking at.

He pounded into you, but the stimulation was becoming just too much. Your body felt heavy as your movements stilled, leaving Steve to do all the work.

The thrusts of his hips slowed as he noticed the absolutely exhausted expression on your face. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Too much," you pouted. "Feel worn out."

His hands moved up to your cheeks before pulling you down for a long kiss. He smelled of sweat and what was left of his cologne, and the aroma did nothing to aid your senses.

"Do you need to stop? It's fine if you do, Promise," he reassured you. "I put you through a lot, huh, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. "Uh-uh. Jus' need a little help. Please?"

He pulled away, pushing some stray hairs behind your ear. "Want me to take care of the rest, baby?"

You managed to nod before he flipped you both over, a whimper falling from your lips at the friction. His hips resumed their previous tempo, his eyes screwing shut as you involuntarily squeezed around him. You smiled up at him from your new position. You were happy to keep going but even happier that you didn't have to hold yourself up any longer. Steve had it, had you.

"You poor little thing," he taunted after one particularly rough thrust. "Needed me to take the reins for you, huh?"

Your head bobbed in something close to the answer he was looking for. Your hands fell above your head, and Steve moved to hold them both in one of his large palms.

"Should've known you wouldn't last long," he teased, fucking into you harder. Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head from the stimulation. "Considering that sad bull riding attempt."

His lips met yours again as he continued pounding into your core. He controlled the kiss too, his lips rough against your trembling mouth. His tongue searched your mouth, giving you everything you didn't know you needed.

He moved from your lips to your ear, leaving a ghost of a kiss on the lobe. "Just needed Stevie to take over for a bit, yeah?"

"Mhm," you murmured, willing your hips to roll toward his once more. You tried so hard, but this time, you were sure you didn't have the strength left in you. You nipped at his neck, your way of letting him know you were still with him.

"Shhh, you're OK, princess," Steve cooed, "I got you."

His next statement was quite the juxtaposition from his previously quiet voice. This time, his voice was rough, and he couldn't help himself from babbling out, "Shit, I'm close!"

Eager to help him finish, you tried to meet his movements with a couple sloppy thrusts of your own. After all, you were supposed to be riding him. You felt bad for not holding up on your end of the cowboy hat rule. However, Steve moved a hand to your hips to still your movements. He left a distracting bite on your collarbone before kissing over the spot. "Told you I'd take care of the rest, baby. I promise I've got you, but you just gotta trust me.”

You managed to nod again, and your body jerked as you fell apart beneath him. "Oh, Stevie," you gasped. "Thank you."

"Oh, you feel so good," he rasped, his cock twitching inside of you. "Shiiiiittt!" Chasing down his own pleasure, his hips canted as he guided yours, desperately riding out both of your highs.

He fell limp on top of you, and his now softening cock left you feeling full and thankful. You still weren't sure what possessed you to go to a random bar in a strange city in the middle of your work trip, but you definitely weren't regretting it when this god of a man had been there seemingly waiting just for you.

He flipped the two of you over one last time, his hands settling on the small of your back as you rested on top of him.

"I guess the song was right," he sighed. His chest rose and fell in a heavy rhythm as he pecked your scalp, his fingers drawing soft circles on your skin.

"Hmm?" you managed to hum against his pec, his torso warm and inviting.

He left another soft kiss on your head. The feeling of his lips was to die for. "You really should save a horse and ride a cowboy."

OK I KNOW I DON'T USUALLY LEAVE LIL MESSAGES LIKE THIS ON THIS BLOG BUT THERE'S NO WAY I CAN'T THIS TIME

This fic... yawl. Me and Georgia stayed up til 5 am two nights in a row editing this for y'all. When I tell y'all... this might be my favorite fic I've ever written!!! Gosh, this was so much fun and I wish I could experience writing it all over again, even if it has only been like 3 days.

Again, huge thank you to Georgia for working this fic to its fullest potential. I am so obsessed with how this turned out and I am so thankful you helped me with it!!

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe

[0kayblue]

Choices

Choices 

A drunken kiss, unspoken feelings, and a nasty argument leaves Leon in a cracked state. Painfully stuck in the crossroads of realization that nothing is going to get better until he starts talking and actively takes the steps to come to terms with his past and his disjointed emotions. 

Word count: Almost 5k (not throughly proof read)

Angst. Language. Gun mentioned. Drinking mentioned. Happy ending. Partners to friends to lovers? The timeline is a little funky so let me explain: the events of Raccoon City take place in 2004 and that places this story towards the start of 2011.

A/N: Long time no see, huh? Things got heavy and they got heavy fast. Between vacation, moving, and the holidays; I’ve kinda fallen off the face of the planet. But it is what it is and I’m back for a minute or two. 

As far as requests are concerned I’m working on them, but I get distracted with other ideas. My google doc is full of rough outlines and unfinished works in progress. I don’t have any idea when things will come out, they just will. I apologize, but damn, life is stressful. 

Anyway, I hope you all are having a lovely day, week, month, and year. Please enjoy!!

“Hey. . .” Leon starts, his voice low and like gravel with uncertainty. A sense of deprecating self-consciousness following in the silence, before he lets out a frustrated huff. “You didn’t pick up, not that I’m surprised. . .but still, it hurts.” He admits as his grip on his phone grows tighter before it loosens and a conflicted sigh leaves him. 

“I’m. . .sorry.” He struggles with the apology as he shuts his eyes and another exasperated sigh leaves him, “Truly, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did and I shouldn’t have pointed the finger at you. It’s not your fault and it never has been. I need you to know that, I need you to know that I know how I’ve been acting lately is stupid and. . .” He stops as he opens his eyes and looks around the dim space of his empty living room, the loneliness of this moment threatening to swallow him whole. The numbing silence of the room mixed with the silence on the other end of the phone became too much to handle causing him to swallow the confession on the tip of his tongue. 

He licks the dryness from his lips as his other hand goes to massage his forehead in a stiff and irritated manner. He sucks his teeth as his hand falls while he lets out a disheartened sigh as the words fall from his lips, “I can’t do this without you here.” He admits with frustrated sorrow, “I need to see you. I need you to look at me. I need you to. . .I just need you.” 

The static of the other empty line cuts through silence like a rusted combat knife through brittle sheet metal. Leon’s lips part for another sigh to escape him, but it never does. The air stays lodged in his throat before he painfully swallows. 

“Look,” The word came out dry and somewhat short, before he clears his throat. “I’ve got some things I have to deal with, but if you could come over just for a moment—or at least call me back– it doesn’t have to be tonight; but sometime.” He can’t stop it from sounding like a desperate ramble; a plea for your silence to be broken.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, but it probably won’t be until the early hours of the morning so if you could just at least call me back tonight. Let me know you’re okay. You don’t have to give me any other information and I won’t ask, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He explains softly, biting his tongue to keep himself from making the accusations that scream at him. 

He opens his mouth to say more, to at least say ‘bye’; but he can’t, so he pulls the phone away from his ear and he ends the call. A frustrated grunt leaving him as he peers down at your contact photo, his gaze softening as he studies the smile on your face. The photo one that he cherishes with every heart string he has; a moment he was able to capture without you knowing. The rarity of being able to capture a genuine smile on your face. He recalls the day fondly and for a moment a smile curls at his lips until he eyes glance at the time in the top left corner of the thin device. He locks his phone as he stands from the loveseat you often perched yourself in whenever you were over, the seat cushion practically molded to only sit your frame comfortably. 

Putting the phone in his pocket he makes his way through the kitchen and to the door that leads to the garage; grabbing his car keys from the key hooks by the door and opening the garage door. 

The dark of night not holding its usual tranquility as the earthy smell of the heavy rain floods his nostrils. It’s eerily fitting given his current circumstances and it makes his skin crawl slightly as he gets into the driver seat and starts the car. Putting the car in reverse he backs out of the garage, his ears starting to ring slightly as the quietness of the night floods the car. A slight scoff leaves him as he goes to shut the garage door and he heads north towards his destination. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon drives for hours in silence trying to put his head together. Trying to string together what exactly he wants to say while also remaining focused on the road ahead. All his thoughts scattered and disorganized; any sense of pulling it together immediately wiped out whenever his phone buzzed. A thin line of hope is always shattered when he glances at it and it’s just another notification about god knows what. It didn’t matter and he didn’t care because it was never your name on the screen. 

It felt as if you were playing this silent treatment thing as if your life depended on it and it was killing him. Suffocating him. Each ping brings him above the tidal wave for just a moment before being dragged back under by the force of the freezing crisp waves. He could almost taste the bitter salt water with each defeated sigh of disappointment. 

His glare on the road sharpens as he sees the abandoned gas station, slows, and makes the sharp right turn into the parking lot. The sound of stray gravel gritting against the tread of the tires as the car reaches its destination, Leon on the other hand still has another hour until he reaches his. 

A single unmarked cruiser awaiting him parked perfectly in between two faded and barely visible white lines. He parks his own car a couple spots away from the cruiser before he shuts it off and steps out of the car, grabbing his phone and keys sliding them into his back pocket as he takes calculated steps to the cruiser. The rain only becomes more intense as he tries not to be affected by the cold laced into every drop that hits him, soaking his clothes slightly. 

“Should’ve brought an umbrella.” He mutters to himself as he opens the driver’s side door of the cruiser and gets in. He shakes slightly in an effort to get any excess water off before running a hand through his damp hair, the water slicking it back for just a moment before his bangs fall back into place. 

He leans over the center console and gets into the glove compartment on the passenger’s side. A single car key and a beretta 92fs pistol sit exactly where they were supposed to be. He opts for the cool metal of the hand gun as he picks it up and inspects the weapon briefly, leaving the safety on before he sets it in the passenger seat. He then takes the car key and starts the car, whereas his car was quiet the cruiser engine debates on whether or not to come to life and he almost took it as a sign to give up despite not being a superstitious man; but he digresses as the old cruiser decides that Leon is worth the ride. 

Just as he goes to put the car in reverse his phone pings and he immediately takes his hand from the gear shift and fishes for it with a grunt from his back pocket. A moment of relief leaves him as this time the contact that greets him is yours. Quick to unlock the phone he is greeted with a text of only one word:

 ‘Maybe.’ 

“Maybe?” He grumbles, “What the hell does that even mean?” He asks no one but himself and yet is met with the low rumble of the cruiser’s transmission. Before really thinking he goes and types a reply, staring at the message with a puzzled expression. 

‘Maybe what exactly?’ 

Surprisingly he barely moved before he got a reply.

‘Just maybe.’

He takes in a deep breath before letting it out in a shaky manner. Stubborn, you were always so stubborn. Of course he was too, but he was the one actively trying not to be this time. He was the one trying to get you to open up and not the other way around. Trying to get you to communicate with him, trying to get you to be vulnerable with him, trying to repair the rift between the two of you.

‘Can I get more than maybe?’

‘Please.’ 

He knows it’s his fault. He understands that regardless of how you left he still hurt you and you still had every right to be upset with him. Neither of you made anything official, never committed to anything, and he was a fool to think that a drunk kiss meant that his feelings were reciprocated and defined you both as an unit. He should have known that your avoidance of him the next day meant that something was off, but he convinced himself that you understood everything. That you knew everything he’s wanted to say for months. So, when he was informed of you being around someone who clearly was no good for you; he snapped.

‘I’ll be by.’

It wasn’t much, but it was something. A crumb that would subside the ache he felt. He lets out a sigh of relief as a small and soft smile finds his face. It was confirmation to him that he hasn’t lost you completely. He hadn’t lost you. 

‘When?’ 

‘Tonight. Please.’

He stares at the screen waiting for a reply he doubts he will get; so he isn’t surprised as agonizing seconds turn into minutes. Glancing at the time he knows he needs to move, and he will. Just a minute more. 

A minute passes, then two, and still no reply. He runs a hand through his hair before it finds the steering wheel, gripping it with force. Trying to let out some of the agitation he felt in the least harmful way possible. He tosses the phone into the passenger seat before taking his leave. 

—------------------------------------------------------------

Leon pulls up to the agreed upon meeting spot, the headlights of the cruiser reflecting off of the multiple ‘WARNING’ and ‘DANGER’ signs. All signs informing the public to stay clear of the abandoned wreckage that was the nightmare that started his adult life. 

He clenched his teeth as he parks the cruiser and before killing the engine he scrutinizes the rusted, faded, and graffitied sign that read: 

‘Welcome to Raccoon City

Home of Umbrella’

He can’t help the cold unforgiving glare that hardens his features as he stares intensely at that damn sign. A sign that he once was looking forward to seeing, a sign that was supposed to harken in a new beginning for him. A chapter of his life that he never got to write the way he intended too. 

He forces himself to look away as he kills the engine. All that anger and contempt in every movement he makes; the emotions barely subtle as he grabs the pistol and makes his leave from the cruiser. Uncleaned debris crunching under the harsh step of his sturdy weight. The former storm subsided to a gentle drizzle. As if the weather was deciding to be gentle towards him, to be kind as he faced the location of so much of his trauma. Dulled screams and flashbacks of all the things he saw that night flashing throughout every corner of his brain. He grits his teeth as he slams the door of the cruiser shut, the heavy bang ceasing the noise. The memories. 

He keeps his focus trained ahead as he strides closer to the steel chain fencing with sturdy steps, the dim yellow light from aged street lights illuminating his path with a dull hum. Unclenching his jaw he puts the pistol into the tight waistband of his jeans as he starts to climb the rusted fence that murmurs whines underneath the weight of his body. 

Getting to the top he throws one leg over before deciding to make the jump to the other side. A grunt leaves him as the soles of his shoes make contact with the pitch black pavement, a sharp yet brief pain shooting up his legs. Standing up straight he pulls the pistol from his waistband, shuts the safety off, and proceeds forward. Acutely aware of his surroundings as his stomach starts to turn and bile threatens to creep up his throat. 

Luckily he doesn’t have to travel far as the person he is set to meet waits in the shadows, the click of her heels against the damp pavement making Leon fully aware of her presence as he points the gun at her out of fear. It isn’t until she steps closer that he lowers his weapon. 

“Leon.” Ada says as she looks at him intently. Giving him a once over before she speaks again, “Someone is jumpy, I see.” 

“Yeah, well, it’s the location.” Leon says as he stands up straight, his shoulders remaining tense. Ada nods in a sense of understanding. 

“You went through it to track me down and I’ll admit I’m impressed; but I have to ask: why?” Ada’s voice is smooth and low, clearly guarded. 

“There’s something I have to talk to you about. Something I need to address.” He admits. 

Ada studies him, the tension he carries nearly slapping her across the face; and she knows all the blame can’t just be put on the location. The rubble on the street is a physical representation of the crumbs of trust that was shared between the two of them. 

“So, then why go through the trouble?” She inquires, her brow raising slightly, “I’m certain whatever it is you are here to-.” 

“No, I need you to hear what I have to say.” He says cutting her off. Clearly uncomfortable, unfamiliar, and direct with her; this whole situation reeking of a rotten smell that they could practically taste. 

“Different.” She simply states, very different from their previous meeting six months prior in the rural misty mountainous region of Spain. A change that was lost on her is now clearly present. It’s rough, jagged; and not something she is used to when it comes to him. 

The two stare at each other in silence, trying to piece each other together. A clear lack of communication ringing out into the night, something that wasn’t uncommon between the two. 

“Do you-.” Leon starts but suddenly stops the question in its tracks. He knew the answer and it was pointless to even ask; so he opts for the next question, “Why didn’t you try and reach out?” 

The question takes Ada aback and it shows physically as her eyes widen just slightly before returning to that uncaring gaze. She ponders on how to approach this. On what to say. Coming up short she decides not to say anything regarding the subject; so she changes it. 

“Is this about them?” She asks and immediately Leon plants his feet. Knowing that her them meant you; and the feeling didn’t settle well in his bones. His teeth gritted together as his jaw locked. Yet, the fact of the matter remained: she was partly right. 

“It is, isn’t it.” Ada states as she crosses her arms, a sense of pride finding her as she figured him out so quickly. 

“And if it is?” Leon asks, hoping in vain to throw her off the scent by playing this with a harsh coyness. 

“You’re still hung up over a kiss?” Ada asks, the question slipping from her lips without thinking. A rarity from her, so much so that it takes her aback as the harshness of her words hits Leon with a pang of disappointment. 

“That’s not what I’m hung up on.” Leon answers, bitterness clinging to each word, “I’m hung up on the fact that after everything I—everything we—went through you didn’t even try to tell me you survived that fall. That you survived and you didn’t bother to at least leave me something to show you were still alive; and don’t even try and say you couldn’t find me. You could have. Easily.” His voice grew stronger with every word he spoke, his conflicting emotions present in each syllable. 

Ada is stunned by his candor, the hurt that she caused him present leaving her baffled and grasping for straws. He was being raw here, he was showing her his cards that he held so tightly to his chest. 

“That night was the ending to so much. That night—to me— was an unimaginable horror I was not prepared to face; and you…you were right there. You knew so much more than I did and you remained cryptic.” Leon states with a defeated and heavy breath, “It’s easy to direct my anger there; but I know that’s not where it belongs. That isn’t where my heart places it, even though it probably should be because you played it like a fiddle; but that’s not it. Not the way you used me. Manipulated me. What it is in all honesty is the fact that I couldn’t save you. That you slipped from my grip, but yet you still cling to me.” 

Silence falls between the two again, but this time it’s different. It’s not a burden even though it remains heavy.  

“So you tracked me down to tell me this?” 

“I tracked you down so you can let me go.”

The statement left Leon in one breath as he looked at her with a softness to his eyes. A vulnerability in his gaze that swallowed Ada whole. The lack of light behind his eyes shadowing her in a darkness she never expected to feel from him. Her own emotions are becoming hard to keep in check, as her insides start to simmer with an almost forgotten feeling. 

The silence clings to their clothes as the night time air becomes lodged in Leon’s throat. Nearly choking him as he examined Ada intently, trying to guess her next move. Trying to put himself in her shoes long enough to figure out what she might be thinking; but all of this was so foreign. So he retreated back into his own head and just decided it was best to let her move from here. He decided it was best to just stop; and that decision flooded his body with relief. His jaw relaxing, his shoulder falling slightly, his knees no longer locked; the utter relief he felt just voicing how he felt was something he least expected.

“Okay.” Ada said, breaking the silence. This newfound development changed something in her that she couldn’t pinpoint. Something half of her refused to pinpoint. This growth she sees from him changes her perception of him. 

“Okay.” Leon repeats with a small nod as the subtle rain drops that have been hitting him start to increase. They stand in a tense awkward silence as the wind starts to pick up and begin to howl a broken howl that wavered like a gasped sob. Leon turns to leave before the rain starts to heavily pour again, but the question that falls from Ada causes him to stop. 

“Are you doing this all for them?” She asks, crossing her arms. While Leon looks at her with confliction, still not pleased with her need to keep you in the conversation. 

“Not completely.” He answers; and that is the truth. He needed this for himself, he knew that; but it would be a lie if you didn’t inspire him to take the leap. That you didn’t assure him that he didn’t have to constantly be fighting this inner turmoil, that he could form some type of peace with it; and most importantly that he didn’t have to do it alone. He deserved to care for himself, something he never considered until he felt the gentle warmth of your care. 

“I’d prefer if you would leave them out of it.” Leon says, a protective pitch in his tone that packed a subtle bite. It didn’t catch her off guard, it was him she was dealing with; and she knew that regardless of the strengths she had briefly seen from you in Spain that Leon would still be protective of you. 

So, Ada just nods, turns, and takes her leave,“Goodbye, Leon.” Ada says as Leon watches her walk back towards what he assumed was her entry point was located. 

As her form disappears into the black of night Leon lets out a deep breath with a slight shake of his head; his limbs heavy from the strain of the stress he carried in them.

“Goodbye, Ada.” 

———————————————————--------------------------

It was nearly four in the morning when Leon pulled into his garage. Your vehicle was nowhere in his line of sight as he pulled up to his house. Not that he was surprised, your answer was just a maybe, and he didn’t want you to push yourself out of the realms of something you weren’t comfortable doing just yet. At least he let you know that you weren’t ignoring him completely and that was enough for the time being. 

He shuts off the car as an exhausted sigh leaves him while his hand runs down his face. His head starts to gently pound as he pinches the bridge of his nose. The emotional rollercoaster he has been on starts to churn his stomach, reminding him why he didn’t bother with this stuff for so long in the first place. It hurt. Everywhere. 

He closes the garage as he gets out of the car and makes his way inside. Placing his keys back on the hook, kicking off his shoes, and starting to remove his jacket he stops as he hears the muffled sound of a sitcom laugh track coming from the living room. His chest swells with hope as he quickly disregards his jacket and shoes and with large gentle strides he makes his way into the living room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you asleep on the couch. 

Stopping in his tracks he watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, you were completely and utterly lost in what he hoped was a peaceful slumber. Your arms tucked close to your chest. Your hair fanned out over the couch cushion and the arm of the couch. He fought back how he wanted to run his hand through your hair. How tempting it looked, how he knew nothing brought you more comfort than the feeling of gentle fingers working their way through your hair. He wanted to do that for you, he wanted to comfort you. He wants to give you whatever your heart desires. 

His breath hitches in his throat as he carefully sits on the edge of one of the couch cushions. His heart swells with so much love that it is overwhelming and for the first time within all of this his eyes start to glass over. Tears threatening to spill as a shaky hand slowly makes contact with the warmth of your scalp. His fingers intertwined with your hair as his thumb gingerly brushes the top of your head and a small breath of relief leaves him as he watches your body relax. He stifled a sob with a scoff as a smile found his face while he fixed his gaze on you. The person he holds the most dear. The person he would do whatever it took to just have by his side. 

A craving to show you the utmost love and affection, a craving to care for you so much deeper than what the two of you already had. He hoped with everything that you wanted more. That the ghost of your past hadn’t swallowed you up. That you would choose him. 

He finally sniffs, the sound of distress pulling you from sleep as your eyes open and find his piercing blue ones glassy with tears. You move to sit up as even in your groggy state your arms wrap around him to comfort him.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You coo as your torso presses against him while one hand rubs his back and the other makes its way into his hair as you rest your chin in the crook of his neck. “It’s okay.” You soothe while Leon takes in a strangled breath his arms wrapping tightly around you as he pulls you into his lap. 

“You came.” He utters, his voice breaking slightly. 

“You called.” You answer softly. 

Leon’s grip on you tightens as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, fresh hot thick tears starting to roll down his face. You gently mumble sweet reassurances as you rub his back, allowing him to cry, allowing him to let go of all the shit he has been holding onto. The fight. The end. The struggle. He’s letting go of all of it as he keeps a firm hold on you, clinging to you as if his life depended on it. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything and I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you for- for being with them. I- I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have told you how I felt. I should have-.” He chokes out his apology, the saltiness of his tears finding the pallet of his tongue.

“Shh, Leon, it’s okay.” You coo rubbing his back, “Don’t force yourself to speak when you aren’t ready. Take your time.” He fists the soft fabric of your shirt as he wonders what he ever did to know the comfort of your patience. 

As Leon begins to calm down his grip on you loosens, his breathing returning to normal as his chest no longer hitches with quiet sobs. You feel him start to relax and in turn your body loses its own stiffness. You continue to hold him to you, trailing the tips of your nails gingerly up and down a patch of his back. You had no idea where Leon had been, but whatever he did has obviously left him worse for wear. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask in a quiet whisper, concern ever present in your soft voice; and Leon can’t help himself.

“I love you.” He responds as he places a strong hand in between your shoulder blades keeping you pressed against him as he screws his eyes shut trying to commit this moment to memory. The feeling of your body pressed flush against his, the addictive pleasant scent of your perfume, the soft gentle flesh of your neck pressed against the scratch of his stubble. 

“I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have yelled. I should have talked to you directly. I should have seen everything.” He says as he regretfully pries himself away from you to look at you fully, his hands moving to cup your cheeks and hold your face gently in the palms of his hands. He watches the gears in your head start to turn through sparkling big doe eyes and his heart starts to melt. The realization that he wasn’t the only one that needed improvements becoming ever present as he brushes the side of his thumb over your cheek. 

“I love you and I am unbelievably sorry. Please, please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads as he studies your face, noting the way your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. 

You both sit there in silence as he admires the sad beauty that are your features in this moment. He allows you to just sit there and feel, and think, and breathe. With all the patience in the world he waits for you. 

“I love you too.” You finally say quietly, the words falling from your lips in a hesitancy before you speak up again; but with more strength and convection, “I love you too.” 

A soft wide smile finds Leon’s face as he brings your lips to his in a soft, but desperate and passionate kiss. The taste of your lips are so much sweeter without the bitter taste of alcohol on them. Your arms snaking their way around his neck as you kiss him back the way you wanted to the first time he kissed you. His hands move to your waist to pull you closer to him as his tongue ghosts over your bottom lip. 

You part your lips allowing him access to explore the warmth of your mouth while crooking your head to the side as his tongue makes its way into your mouth. His tongue runs briefly over your teeth before it coils with your own and he sucks slightly causing a deep moan to reverberate from your chest and up your throat. 

The sound causes a smirk to curl at the corner of his lips as he parts from you regardless of how badly he wants to continue. He couldn’t help it, he had to see you; and the sight was worth it. The blissful peace on your face as you opened your eyes to look at him was worth it. A smile plastered on his face as he noted the tiredness in your eyes, the slight bags underneath them, and his hand finds your cheek as he places a kiss on your forehead. 

“Let's save the rest for tomorrow, okay? Let’s get you to bed.” He says as he moves to pick you up bridal style. He stands from the couch as your grip around him tightens as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“Leon.” You scold him slightly, but with no real seriousness to it. 

“Tomorrow.” He assures with a little nod, a playful smirk on his face. 

“Tomorrow.” You repeat with a little roll to your eyes.

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

W: yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, disturbing actions such as kidnapping, stabbing, abuse, ooc etc+

Sorry there wasn't much "be their little girl" thing. And i just pulled whatever i could out of my ass because i absolutely did not know how to write this. I might make a better version of this in the future.

Yan! Hannibal & yan! Will x fem! Reader

What will you do?

You awokened sitting across the room as the two men who you thought you knew are talking so lovingly to each other as if they didn't have someone bound to a chair by ropes.

Your most logical instinct is to try to pry away the ropes but you knew better than that when they're right there in front of you. that would be stupid. Now the most logical thing you could do is just sit there and look pretty in order not to anger the two men considering what they're capable of.

As terrifying as it was it was quite funny as they had set up a small tea party for the three of you, although the cups were wine glasses. Calling you pet names and discussing small talk almost like acting as a family.

And looking down you realised a disturbing change of clothes. Your clothes looked similar to that of a little girl.

"Will and I have discussed our opinions of this but never thought of asking about yours, what colour of wallpaper would you like your new bedroom to be?" hannibal turned to look at you.

"I wished I would've asked you before hand so it could be a surprise but Will thought it would be rather be a peculiar question for you."

You glanced at Will who has a smile on his face and waits for your answer.

"... Uhm.. (C/N-"

"(C/N)?"

"see I told you!" Will's small laughter almost makes you forget the whole situation. Hannibal takes a sip from his glass, he has a slight look of defeat but smiles.

"well then, (C/N) it is."

You don't know why you were so calm, was it because the whole situation seemed so light hearted? But you didn't want to be here atleast you knew that and they did too.

You don't even know where to begin to start planning for an escape, you subtly positioned yourself in a way you'll feel the items in your pockets but you felt none in either of them. They kept asking questions in order to keep the awkward silence at bay, you didn't find the energy to answer them.

"Y/n, you haven't taken a bite out of your food, why's that?" hannibal asked you, almost tauntingly. Where would you find the need to eat in a time like this? Will looks a bit guilty.

They both know what you're thinking, that look on your face says it all. They're not delusional and you're not sure if it's bad or good, but they'll try anyway.

"try it, it's gonna get cold." Will smiles one more time to convince you.

You weren't in the mood nor have an appetite for this but you certainly didn't want an upset Hannibal near you. Forcing yourself to chew down the piece of food Will has fed you, it wasn't dry. It had flavor and juice but it didn't quench the dryness of the inside of your throat.

Despite the piece of meat having a soft texture, you found it difficult to swallow.

Just as Will was about to ask a question to break the silence, you found yourself unconsciously building up the courage to go and ask a question.

"why am I here?"

The already thick tension now doubled now suffocating probably all three of you at the same time. Should they just say it? Would it be a good idea to tell you it's basically a forced adoption? You looked at them. Cautiously but swiftly grabbing one of the sharp silverware placed near your plate of food with your free forearm. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, terrified they were going to hear it.

Hannibal proceeded to look at you and ask, "why are you so scared y/n?"

He probably smelt the fear and sweat in your body. At this Will stood up "can we talk privately?" Hannibal complied and moved to the kitchen.

It was a stupid decision but all you were more concerned about was getting the fuck out of here. You used this opportunity to cut the ropes around your elbows, and the ones on your ankles. It was cliché but you were glad it was.

You were about to burst tears of joy when you successfully sliced off the last rope. Your wrist was hurting from the constantly pressure and movement but you couldn't care less. Your heart dropped down to the floor when you heard their voices getting closer, you wasted not a single second and went sprinting straight to the front door.

Will and Hannibal became highly alert when they heard the dashing of footsteps. And to their horror, finding your seat empty.

Will ran after you but Hannibal stayed behind. Looking calmly at your seat and the missing utensil. Then he started walking to where you were.

You were running as fast as you could've but your body started feeling heavy and light at the same time. At the worst possible time. Until you couldn't even stand straight anymore. And you felt the frightening hands of Will.

"Y/n what were you thinking!?"

Will tried to drag you away and out of panic you pulled the knife from your pocket and rammed it into his hand. As Will yelled out in pain you heard Hannibal call out Will's name in concern.

You were absolutely scared shitless now. If you get caught you know they are not going to go easy. Adrenaline was rushing inside you but your body couldn't keep up for some reason. You were right in front of the door when a hand wrapped around your mouth and arm, ultimately stopping you so. This was it, you couldn't help but let a tear drop fall down.

"I don't like rude people. And i definitely do not like a rude brat."

You were struggling to pry yourself off of the man's grip, the hand on your mouth was removed but before you could make a noise, your vision blacked out.

When you awoke, you were greeted with the sight of an angry Hannibal and Will. That was the day and night you were the most emotionally and psychologically fucked up. Hannibal only held back because Will told him if was enough.

You never even thought of escaping again. That's okay, just behave like a good daughter and maybe Hannibal might be even nice enough to remove that memory from you.

[igotanidea]

(4) No strings attached :J.T x plus-size!reader

masterlist

part. 1

part 2

part 3

***

When she woke up the next morning the hangover was definitely ruling over her. The dizziness and dryness in the mouth were enough to pin her down to bed with a single groan, but forcing herself to open eyes she quickly realized that this was definitely not her apartment. But the similarity in the accommodation plan was unmistakable. She was in Jason’s flat.

“Oh, shit…. What did I do?” she whined, slowly propping herself up, checking if she still had underwear on and looking around the room she found herself in. It was simple and surprisingly tidy, the whole place filled with books and out of curiosity she reached for the one left on the nightstand. Jane Austen. That was surprising. She would never thought him to be the guy to read romance novels. But hey, who was she to judge his choice in literature?

The thing that caught her attention even more was the glass of water and a painkiller that Jason put right next to the book. Seemingly for her. It was …. nice. And thoughtful. And only added to her guilt of being such a cold bitch for him from the beginning. Sure, he got her into a very sticky and awkward situation, but she would be a hypocrite to say that she never were in similar position. 

Y/N sighed deeply, reaching for the water and taking a few gulps. Her brain was filled with so many thoughts and blurry memories of the last night. she wasn’t exactly sure how the night went and how she ended up here, but judging by the state of her clothes, nothing indecent happened. And that was a relief.

After a couple minutes, she finally found enough strength to get out of the bed, her feet landing on the semi-warm wooden floor. So far, so good.

Well, at least until she opened the door and the light hit her right in the eyes, causing her to groan, grab her head and reach the wall for support. Damn it! She almost tripped over her own feet and that was embarrassing, considering the fact that Jason was standing right in front of her. Wearing nothing but shorts.

“Hey there, neighbor.” He laughed, taking a step towards her and preventing her from hitting the ground. His hands might have wondered a bit lower than it was absolutely necessary , but he just couldn’t help himself.  “slept well?”

“I…..” she mumbled, still not fully rooted in reality, his sudden, unexpected touch making her shiver. “What …. happened?”

“How much do you remember?”

“Not much….. Celebration with Lena? Meeting Red Hood?”

“Red hood, huh? Was he really as scary as they say?” Jason raised an eyebrow

“He seemed…. sad, you know. Angry, sure, but more sad. Like he was in need of a friend.”

“Really? Is that the impression you got from the fright of the Gotham crime world?”

“We all need someone sometimes. And given his history…..”

“What history? How do you know it?”

“Nevermind.” She muttered, looking down at her hands. That sudden cut off was a bit suspicious, but since she was in a bad mental and physical state, Jason decided to drop the subject.

“Speaking of friends, do you remember what you said when you banged on my door at 5 am?”

“I did what?!” her eyes grew wide in confusion and damn, she looked so innocent and fragile. She did not remember that. “God!” her hands travelled to her face, covering the reddened cheeks. Talk about embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”

“I could have used that, you know princess? You are very pretty ….”

“Stop it, Todd!” she punched his chest, feeling all those muscles flex under her touch.

“Make me.” He whispered grabbing her wrist and moving forward slightly, looking her straight into the eyes.

She was standing in his kitchen, only in an oversized T-shit, her legs and feet bare, with glistening eyes, parted lips and hand on his exposed chest. He wasn’t lying. He could have used her when she stumbled inside his apartment. Fuck. He could act on his fantasies right that moment, but there was something in her that made him stop. He wanted to seduce her, to make her give up voluntarily. Such an innocent girl. Would be a hundred times better to break her than to force her.

“Jason….” She whimpered, feeling his fingers caress her skin gently, lightly. It was nothing more than a touch, just that, and yet it sparked something in her.

“Yes?” he leaned even closer, his face now inches from hers “Do I make you nervous?”

Fuck, he was. She knew him for like three weeks, but there was something so strangely alluring about this guy. And the way he was starting to make her feel was not how a good girl should behave.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, her body responding to his caresses, involuntarily moving a couple inches forward, almost closing the gap between them.

“What does this look like?” his hands found a way to her waist, under her shirt, squeezing her sides and moving up and down. She was already giving up to him, letting out the quietest moans. It was nice. It’s been so long since someone, anyone held her like that. And she wanted to be held and touched and kissed and …. “Like I said, you are very pretty…” he whispered in her ear, mouth finding a way to her neck, brushing over it almost imperceptibly. Oh, he knew what he was doing.

Oh, fuck! She was on a hiding to nothing.

“Todd….” She whined, flexing her body under his ministrations. “Shit.” Her hand found  a way to his hair, tangling in the strands as he started kissing her neck, this time fully, not playing around, nibbling on her soft spot.

“I want you, baby….” he bit on the sensitive skin “Come on, don’t fight me. Your body tells me everything your words cannot. Let me have you. Let me make you feel good.”

“I….” she shuddered “we barely know each other…..”

“So what?”

“We are neighbors!”

“So what?” he shrugged, fingers travelling up, playing with her collar. “makes it so much easier to get together. Come on, baby, say yes…. Say yes to me.”

“Yes” she whimpered. ‘yes, yes, yes, Jason. Please. “

She was lost. She was his.

“Y/N…” he panted, pressing his mouth to hers. Shit, she was so much sweeter and softer than he imagined. It was just perfect having her like this. As much as he wanted more and more and more of her, it was not his intention to startle her. So instead of lifting her up and taking her back to his bed, which she barely left, he settled on standing in the kitchen, enjoying the moment, working his hands and mouth hard enough to make her melt. Again, he needed her full consent to everything. Going full on included.

“So…. good.” She whined tracing patterns all over muscles on his back, pulling him closer

“Do you need that?” he replied, playing with the hem of her shirt “cause I got some plans that does not include any layers.”

“You can do what you want to me….” She panted “I…..”

She didn’t get to finish as a loud noise interrupted them and woke Jason up.

“FUCK!” he yelled realizing that all of that was just a fragment of his crazy, lust-filled imagination. And yet, he was holding onto it desperately, still feeling her soft skin under his fingers, seeing her pretty e/c eyes and the way she was so submissive. “Fuck…..” he whispered again, rubbing his forehead and falling back onto the cushions. Only for a second though, since his vigilante instincts brought him back to the thought that it was noise that interrupted him. He sprung out of bed, throwing boxers and T-shirt on and rushed towards the main room.

“Y/N?”

“Oh, um, hi….” She froze like a deer in a spotlight, fully dressed and looking like nothing happened the night before, definitely not being hangover and with shoes in her hands. She was clearly trying to sneak out, but the loose floorboard squeaked loudly and exposed her.

“What are you doing?”

“Um…. Sorry to wake you, I know it’s early, but I think it’s time for me to go. I… did stupid shit coming here and ….”

“What about starting over?”

“About what?” her eyes grew wide in confusion

“You said it yesterday. Something about starting off the wrong foot and wanting to make it better.”

“Right.” She bit on her bottom lip, eyes fixed on the floor “I guess I did.”

“How about I make you breakfast for starters? And we can talk while at it?”

“You cook?”

“Yeah, I’m not really a sissy in case you didn’t notice.”

“What’s on the menu?” she raised an eyebrow, daring him.

“Me?” he smirked and turned around making her laugh. Probably for the first time since they knew each other. “What?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you? I’ll settle for pancakes if you’re up for a challenge”

“Oh, it’s on. “

***

It was something new for both of them. They ate. They laughed. They talked. A real ice breaker in their relation.

“You are so different than you seem at first glance, you know Todd.” She mumbled, chewing on the pancake. He wasn’t lying. He was a really capable cook.

“What is that supposed to mean?” he raised an eyebrow. “I am a mean, heartbreaking bad boy. And don’t you ever think differently.”

“Sure, Todd. Sure.” Y/N smiled lightly, her eyes landing straight on his face “wouldn’t dare. I’m just saying that, perhaps, I misjudged you. I mean, Jane Austen?”

“What?” that caught his attention. So… this wasn’t just a  dream?

“You left the book on your nightstand. Honestly, Emma  was not my favorite of her works. Anyway, thanks for the free food, but I really have to go now. Much to do. “

“It’s Saturday.”

“So what? I am a busy girl. “

“with what exactly.”

“none of your….” She started but then sighed deeply, shaking head and realizing she promised to do better “family business, to  say the least.”

“Fine by me. Can I at least get a kiss goodbye?”

“Stop pushing it.” She warned, one foot out the door “see you around, Todd.”

***

“How the fuck did you find me?!” her angered voice echoed through the empty hangar

“Y/N….” the man who called upon her cooed mockingly “Y/n, y/n, y/n….. my little sweet girl. Did you really think you can escape me? By running back to Gotham?” he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes up “I got you right where I want you.”

“I’m not  interested in whatever proposition you may have for me.” She yanked herself free “never was, never will be.”

“How about I convince you otherwise?”

***

She was so done. 

Tired and stressed by both building the new future and being haunted by the past and people. 

Fucking Saturday. A day of relax damn it. Left her broken and exhausted more than any other shitty day of the work week.

And to add up to that, there was something laying on her doormat. A little piece of paper with barely a few words on it.

“Oh, what now?!” she scoffed bending down and picking it up. Honestly she was expecting another death threat from Madison or …. someone else, but it was a note from her neighbor.

Still fancy that wine I owe you?

She smirked to herself and without any hesitation, moved to the door to her right. Jason opened them almost immediately, as if he was waiting for her to show up.

“Mind if I come in?” Y/N tilted her head, playing with the note

“Not at all, sunshine.”

Let me know if you want a tag in this, but please check the tagging policy before :)

[thetriplets3]

can u do prompt 17(i think) from the needing comfort list — ‘you bought me chocolate/flowers’ — with matt plz !! its okay if not ! have a great dayy 🩵

haven't written in a while so hopefully this is good thank you for your request. send some more in

key to my heart

One thing I’ve always loved about Matt is how he will go lengths to make sure feel better and brighten up your darkest days.

Matt’s been by my side for a few years now, he’s the first person I want to tell anything to, a shoulder to cry on, and a comforting presence. When life gets hectic and things gets flipped over Matt is always the one to come and turn your world back around. I never know where I stand with Matt. He does things a boyfriend would do but we’ve never discussed our feeling with each other.

This week was exhausting to say the least. I’ve become the therapist amongst my friends, it’s a blessing and a curse to feel things so deeply. I give my undivided attention to anyone who needs an ear to listen to their problems and give my best advice but at the same time I absorb all their negative energy and I carry their problems. They pass the weight holding them down onto me, quickly slowing me down. That’s the downside to being the one who listens because no one thinks to listen to the listener. They don’t think how heavy it is for one person to hold all that.

I can’t take it anymore, I only have so much room to carry things and it’s filling up quickly. My space is full of others problems and there’s no room for my own thoughts or feeling. So that’s where I am now, curled up under the covers in the dark trying to feel something, anything but everyone’s problems. Turning my phone on do not disturb I see a few messages from Chris covering the ones from Matt.

chris 🍊

please answer us

helloooo??

i know you hate notifications so i know for a fact you’ve seen this

don’t ignore

at least message matt pls he’s worried

love you kid we’re here whatever it is

matt 🥤

y/n

what’s wrong why aren’t you answering any of us?

are you okay? i need to know you’re okay i’m worried

no one has heard or seen you in a few days

i know somethings up this isn’t like you

let me in let me help you

Flipping my phone face down so I don’t have to look at it, I let out a shaky breathe. The silence becomes too much all the stories and problems are all coming forth, shouting and talking over each other. Not knowing how to make it stop I let out a desperate sob wanting nothing more than for someone to listen to me like I do for them. Both mentally and physically exhausted I drifted off into a much needed nap.

My eyes squint open looking at my clock. Only a 40 minute nap. The dryness in my mouth makes me get up to go grab a drink from the kitchen, but not before wrapping a blanket around me.

Slowly and heavy lidded I trudge down the stairs, halting when my eyes meet the island. Flowers. No one’s ever given me flowers before. The thought of how they got in here escapes you, being drawn towards the yellow flowers, my favorite color. Attached to the bouquet is a little note in chicken scratch I could recognize anywhere.

My heart flutters as a pout replaces the empty look on my face. “My favorite” I gasp. A happy sigh leave my lips as I bring the bouquet to my nose to give them a sniff.

“I knew you’d love them” you voice full of love and softness.

“Matt! Holy shit you can’t do that to me” I pant with a hand over my chest.

“Sorry” you say sheepishly.

“You bought me flowers?” I ask softly.

“You told me tulips were your favorite and I thought yellow ones would make you even happier”

“That was 2 years ago I didn’t think you’d remember. I don’t think anyone would remember that” I scoff.

“When you care, you remember. If it’s important to you it’s worth remembering” You say. “You’re worth it”

Placing the flowers on the table I walk towards you. Sensing an impending hug you open your arms and pull me into your chest.

“I know you’re always there for everyone else to let their guard down but you need someone to be there for you. Stop putting up walls let me be that person. Let me in okay I love you and you don't have to feel alone” you say as your one hand rubs circles on my back and the other cradling my head to your chest, immediately bringing me comfort I didn't know I was missing.

“I know. I'll let you in might take a while. I love you Matty" I whisper into your neck.

"We'll work on it I'm here for you"

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs

[babyhedonistt]

TOO CLOSE TO TOUCH - TEN

WARNING // Some themes in this chapter may not be suitable for all audiences, viewer discretion is advised

Nick stares at Noah like he was a dog with his tail between his legs. He had been caught, but Noah was not quite sure he feels guilty about what he did.

Because he didn’t.

“How long have you known?” Noah asked him.

“Known what?” He sighs, throwing his hands up.

“How long you have had your eyes on her or how long you two have been sneaking around?”

“Either at this point Nick. You’re not acting like yourself.”

“No. I am acting like myself. It’s just the first time you’ve actually pulled your head out of your ass to actually see it. Ever since you started hanging out with her again, you haven’t bothered to pay attention to the rest of us. Your band. Your brothers.”

“That doesn’t give you a right to separate us. You’re not her older brother and you’re not my Dad. I thought if I were to get involved with anyone, you’d be happy it was her.” Noah scoffed.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy Noah. I just don’t like how even though she’s higher on your priority list, you still don’t treat her like it.”

Ouch.

That hurt more because Noah knew he was right.

“I’ve never been in a serious relationship before.” Noah admits. “So you think it gives you free range to pick Folios sister of all people to fuck around with.”

“I didn’t fuck her.”

“Doesn’t mean you weren’t planning on it.” Nick shot back. Noah swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“I’m sorry. About the NDA. Truly, but I figured it would be the easiest option to suggest to Matt to get through our tour. And then Folio got hurt…… she took the position. Shit just got messy… Noah I really wanted you two to be together, but I didn’t want it to fuck the band up to a point the fans would start noticing. How would that look?”

Nick wasn’t wrong. In fact, Nick is never wrong, factually, at least. Morally on the other hand, he had to have been the worst offender next to Noah.

The room filled with silence, the two of them soaking in each others words before Noah finally broke the silence. “I haven’t been putting this band first. I thought I was doing that when I finished the rest of the album, I guess it wasn’t enough.” He sighs

“Noah, you’re the lead singer dude. You already carry so much responsibility and I don’t think we cut you enough slack. But, a girl can’t just come in and fuck that shit up when we have stuff we need to get done.”

“She’s different Nick. I feel like there’s a fire inside of me when I’m around her.”

“And if you don’t contain it you’re going to get burnt. You haven’t even told Folio how you feel about her. He’s one of your best friends and he’s in the dark. “

“I know..” Noah sighs.

Nick walks over and slaps Noah on the back comfortingly. “Jolly’s known for a bit too dude. Expecting him to keep that secret? A lot on him too.”

Noah’s realization of his stupid actions finally caught up with him as be planted his face in his hands. “ I’m sorry, Nick.”

Nick pulled Noah up from the seat and embraced his friend in a tight hug. “I’m sorry I fairly kicked your ass.” He jokes and a light laugh escaped Noah’s lips. “I let you win mother fucker.” He slaps his back lightly.

“Cmon dude. We have a show to do. It’s our last one.” Nick smiles before the door to the dressing room opens and Jolly peaks his head in. “You guys coming?”

The two nodded as the three of them met you backstage. You felt Noah’s large hands grasp each side of your hips, his front against your back, and warmth spread across your cheeks before you rest the back of your head on his chest. “Everything good?” You asked, looking down at his tattooed hands. You hear him sigh in your ear before clearing his throat. “Yeah. It will be.” He says before the lights dimmed in the pit of the audience.

The crowd went insane. You were used to being in front of the large fan base that Bad Omens had. Something about Noah's hands being secured on your hips, almost reassured that he was right about everything being okay.

Granted, given everything that has happened already, you weren't sure it was capable of getting worse.

The beginning of the show went as expected. You performed the usual set list. The crowd seemed to be higher in energy today, perhaps due to the fact that it was the last show of the tour.

The crowd eventually settled through the show; the energy seemed more positive compared to how you left the boys. Nick and Noah actually made eye contact and it didn't look like they wanted to kill each other.

You thought everything was going well, until Noah began talking to the crowd between songs.

You could see him at the front of the stage, holding the microphone in front of his mouth while his sweat-dosed hair hung over his eyes. The makeup covered his bruises well, if anything it added to his on stage persona. The more you watch Noah perform, the more you could see the differences between the real Noah and the person he makes himself into for the sake of his fans.

"So. How many of you know a song called ' Just Pretend '? "

The crowd went expectedly loud with an uproar. Noah held the microphone with both of his hands as he quickly looked back at you at the top of the stage behind the drum set. You sent a half smile down to him, and it seemed as if you gave him the confidence he needed.

He turned his attention back to the crowd before he continued. "For the second half of this tour, our drummer Folio had an unfortunate accident which handicapped him temporarily from performing on stage with us."

The crowd was awed as Jolly and Nick bobbed their head. "But. In Folio's absence, our band was saved by a talented drummer who is fortunately here to fill in for her brother while he heals."

You felt your heart in your throat and the air felt almost too thick to breathe through your nose. What the hell was he doing? The feeling seemed to be mutual between the four of you because Jolly and Nick turned their heads up to you, their eyes looking at you for some form of answer as to why Noah was doing what he was doing. Unfortunately you weren't much help for them.

"Her name is Y/N. She's one of the closest people in my life, and one of the biggest inspirations for many of the songs this band sings. Including this one, Just Pretend."

Authors Note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter <3 Lots of love, as always.

@Flowery-mess

@Lizzyanthony3

@Darkmxgician

@Blackveilomens

@Jilliemiw86

@Skulliecadaver-blog

@Starvingarsyn

@Laurpartyprogram

@badomensls

@Lma1986

@sammyjoeee

[foli-vora]

Female reader. Steven grant. Prompts: 21, 26, 75.

In my mind is something like reader having to protect sweet Steven, so she breaks up with him and he’s destroyed and begs her to not leave him or something but ends up telling her he hates her after the whole break up scene, and she leaves.

Break my heart with this please. I want to feel stevens sadness and readers heart breaking knowing it’s what she has to do.

CONGRATS ON 3K MY LOVE!!! PRECIOUS FOLI IM SO HAPPY TO SAY THAT IVE BEEN HERE FOR LONG RIDE!! It’s an absolute honor to read you.

my sweet love, i am so honoured you've been here for the long haul and i appreciate you so much! thank you for your request, i had so much fun breaking sweet boi's heart! i hope this is painful enough for you x

tear into my heart

steven grant x f!reader

word count: 2359 warnings: angst. so much angst. mention of the avengers/other marvel characters, brief mention of S.H.I.E.L.D & HYDRA, mentions of danger, mentions of death/dying, lies, a fake affair, break up, brief violence (throwing a plate)

Dread.

It fills you. It runs through your veins, churns restlessly in your gut and fills your throat until it feels impossible to inhale. Panic begins to build, with sweat stinging at your skin and bringing a wave of fog over your mind.

How had things gotten so out of hand? You’d thought for sure the situation would be contained, would be dealt with so easily. It was looking fine, everything had gone well and it was meant to just be over. Done with. Finished. You should’ve known it was never that simple.

Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.

How did you get here? Maybe you could explain, maybe you could keep him safe, maybe it didn’t have to be this way—

Bucky sighs, the crackled whisper of it falling into your ear from your phone and you bite down on your lip to stem the bitter feel of tears. 

“I’m sorry, doll. I wish there was another way.”

You swallow around the sudden dryness in your throat, picking at the blanket beneath you. The blanket you often shared with him.

The blanket he’d draped around your shoulders when you had a cold, the blanket you tucked around him when he fell asleep reading on the couch… so many memories with just a bit of fabric. You dare not look around to see the other trinkets and memories lingering in his flat.

“Am I doing the right thing, Buck? I don’t want to hurt him, surely I—we—can protect him—”

“I wish I could say we could, but the reality is I just don’t know. Do you want to risk it?”

Could you risk it by staying? Risk him?

“No,” you reply softly, knowing you’d rather suffer the pain of not being with him rather than the pain of potentially burying him. You needed him safe. You needed to know he was safe.

“Maybe once this is over, you could sit him down and explain everything. He might understand?”

Would he? Would you even get that far? While confident in your skills and abilities, there was always a chance of not walking away, and you might never have the chance to fix anything. Death has never frightened you — the possibility simply came with the job and you had long made peace with that, but now?

A trickle of fear buds in the centre of your chest. Could you die knowing you had left him heartbroken? Could you die knowing you didn’t utter a final ‘I love you’? Would he even know you died?

As far as he knew, you worked in an office. A simple job, with occasional travel included.

You hated lying, but it just seemed a lot easier than coming out with the whole 'Oh, well I worked as an agent for S.H.I.E.L.D before that went up in literal flames and I’m now actually stationed in London and employed by the Avengers on the recommendation of Agent Barton'.

Steven was nervous enough in the beginning, you didn’t need another reason to scare him away with that whole backstory. 

“Yeah… maybe,” you mutter, desperately blinking the shine of tears overtaking your vision. “Okay. I’ll be an hour or so, I don’t want to just leave him a note—I want to do it properly.”

“We’ll be here, doll.”

Knowing you didn’t have long until Steven got home, you pass some time by shoving clothes into a bag and clearing your things from the bathroom, trying to not focus on the way his toothbrush now sits alone in the cup. You can barely look at your reflection in the mirror.

Emotion claws at your throat when you empty your side drawer and pluck the single polaroid from its depths. You hold it between two fingers, studying the way he looks so damn handsome in his glasses and fully focused on the little book in his hands, completely oblivious to you taking a photo.

“I love you,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips over its shiny surface before slipping it carefully into the front pocket of your bag, unwilling to part from it should he not want to see you once you were finished with the mission.

At least he’d be safe.

“Take care of him, Gus,” you murmur to the glass, watching the orange fish swim his usual paths through his tank.

The door opens, drawing your attention away from the little animal, and in shuffles Steven, rustling with a plastic shopping bag and a tired smile that considerably brightens when his eyes find you. Your heart quickens in your chest, his presence never failing to send your system into a tizzy.

He’s too good for this, too good for you.

“Hiya, love. Gods, you would not believe the day I’ve had—”

Off he goes.

You love his ramblings. You love how he would use his hands so much as he talks, how expressive he would get and how he was oblivious to anything happening around him. He would talk and talk and talk, and you would soak it all up, hanging on every word falling from his lips.

Just for a moment, you enjoy the normality of it; the calm before the storm, the peace before the pain. He’d stop soon, realising he hadn’t yet given you a kiss, so you straighten before he can do so, knowing if you were to feel that simple, tender press of his lips you wouldn’t have the strength to walk out the door.

“Steven?”

The word gets trapped in your throat.

“—and then some kid knocked the stuffed scarabs over so that was a little disaster in itself coz you know what Donna’s like. Oh! There’s that new David Attenborough doco on the telly tonight so I thought we could watch that and order in some tea, maybe have a little b—”

“Steven,” you repeat louder, firmer, “we need to talk.”

Immediately, he stops. His eyes fly to you and you fight to weaken at the softness swimming in them. This is for him, you remind yourself. It’s all for him. He’d be killed if they knew.

“I thought we already were, though it was a bit hard for you to get a word in what with me going on,” he gives a chuckle, but your face remains indifferent to it. His eyes flick over your face, taking in your cool, stiffly set features and his smile falters. “You ‘right, love?”

Here we go. I’m so sorry.

“No. I’m leaving.”

He blinks, “You what?”

“I’m leaving. This is over.”

“Over?” Confusion twists his brows, his face pinching as the words ring through his ears. “What do you mean ‘over’?”

“I mean this—” you gesture between him and yourself, “—is over. What we have? It’s done. I’m done, Steven. I’m leaving.”

“What? No, you—you can’t. We—” he runs a flustered hand through his curls, his chest jumping with his sharp inhale, “everything’s great. It’s great. Wh… I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur before you can stop the words from falling, forcing yourself to swallow the feel of your heart beating in your throat.

“Is it the sleep thing? Love, I-I’m sorry, I can… I can figure something out! I’ll tie myself to the bloody bed if I have to!” He smiles, laughs, but it’s all nerves, panic. 

So many nights you’d woken to him up and moving about. The first time it happened, it was almost as if he didn’t recognise you, like he was so lost to dreams that he wasn’t truly there and was startled at your presence. It happened frequently, almost every night, and with the more you began to stay over, the more it became a routine. 

You’d coax him into bed, wrap him in the quilt and kiss his cheek with a loud smack, expecting his dorky little chuckle or an adoring little comment, but instead you were met with stares that didn’t seem quite so familiar. He looked like Steven, smelt like Steven, but the eyes… there was something there. 

“No Steven, it’s not the sleep thing.”

“Is—is it me?” He asks shakily, faltering on a step forward and bringing his hands together anxiously, his fingers turning and twisting around the others. “I know I can be a bit much, love, but I-I can change… I’ll do anything for you, anything—”

It pierces right through your chest, impaling your heart and tearing it in half. How could he think that? He’s lovely. So, so lovely. You’ve never met anyone like Steven. He’s beautiful. He’s smart. He’s kind and warm and so damn sweet—

“It’s not you, please believe me when I say that.”

No, it’s not you, precious boy. I’m so sorry. 

His hands begin to tremble.

There’s nothing more to say. It’s done. You let your gaze fall away from him, taking a quick second to gather yourself and keep your posture straight, ensuring to swallow down the pressure in your throat before it could morph into tears. 

He moves when you do, watches you pick up the readied bag he had passed coming in, and he steps in front of the door, holding a hand out in an effort to keep you still.

“Love, please—”

“I’m going, Steven.”

He doesn’t move. He stands there in your way, hands shaking by his sides, his lips pressing tightly together to keep the noticeable wobble at bay. 

“Please let me do this,” you mutter, the dull sting pricking the back of your eyes. Get out now.

“You can’t leave, love. You can’t, we—you’re my everything. Please—please, just—we can fix this. Whatever it is, we can fix it!”

He won’t let go.

Gods, Steven, please let go.

The thought of this all blowing out of control and someone finding him… the thought of it makes you physically ill. Your mind rejects the images of him hurt, beaten, laying bleeding and broken on the floor, his eyes empty and staring vacantly into nothing.

Bile builds in your throat. You have to protect him, you have to keep him safe.

There’s a way to make him let go, but it’s fucking brutal, and you’re almost certain there’s no coming back from it. But it’s okay. If he’s safe, it will be okay. It’s for him.

A bubble of self loathing builds in your gut. Please forgive me.

The words make you sick.

“There’s someone else.”

The moment holds after your spoken words, the air in the flat turning harder somehow. His heart shatters. You can see it play across his face. First the confusion, your words not quite sinking in. Someone else? No. No, you would never. The denial—you wouldn’t do that… no, you love him, don’t you? The pain. It pierces right through to the very core of you.

You bite down hard on your tongue. There’s so much you want to say. You want to cry, you want to apologise, you want to cradle him and tell him there’s no one else, there could never be anyone else… but you stand firm, watching the daunting understanding leak into his features.

His shoulders drop, and those tortured eyes meet yours.

“Oh. What’s their name?”

Your training kicks in.

“James.”

“James,” he repeats quietly, his throat bobbing with a swallow. “How long?”

“Steven—”

“How long?”

“A few months,” you lie through your teeth.

Lying had always been somewhat of a second nature to you, but here? Now? The words burn your mouth. The lies feel acidic on your tongue. It burns to the point you think you can’t utter another word.

“All that time?” He whispers in surprise, his voice cracking.

His lips press firmly together but the action doesn’t stem the tears that build along his lash line. The barrier breaks and they eventually spill, falling from his eyes and painting his cheeks with trails of heartbreak.

“Does… does he know about me?”

You don’t answer, but he seems to draw a conclusion from the look on your face. He gives a barely there broken chuckle, forced through shaking lips.

“Bet you both had a right laugh,” he mutters scornfully, “while your stupid little boyfriend waited in his stupid little flat.” 

Your face creases, “Steven—”

“I hate you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to the floor as more tears stream down his face. “Gods I love you, but I fucking hate you right now.”

And with those final words, he crumbles.

His devastation is palpable, and your heart shatters alongside him.

He wraps his arms around himself, unable to raise his eyes enough to meet yours as he shuffles out of your way, freeing your exit and allowing you to leave. A warm tear slips down your cheek as you listen to the sounds of agony falling from his throat, spreading over your skin when your fingers rise to brush it away.

Every step towards the door is a struggle.

You want nothing more than to turn around, to stay. The door knob is ice cold under your fingers, mirroring the feeling of grief spreading out from your gut. His cries echo around you, burning into your mind with each broken inhale and heavy exhale.

The soul shattering sobs stop, and the startling finality of it is enough to have you pausing where you pull the door open. His curled shoulders stiffen and his body hardens, almost as if he just snapped right out of his heartbreak.

He half turns, his dark, wild gaze locking onto you from beneath the mop of curls falling over his eyes and you’re frozen from the bitter hostility filling them. The rage, the hatred.

It’s not the stare you’re used to meeting at night. This is different. 

The air changes, thickens.

He’s different. 

“Steven?”

“Get out,” he rasps, voice taking on a deeper, angrier husk and it’s not him—it’s not your Steven, “now.”

“What—”

“Leave!”

His hand swipes a plate from the table, sending it flying across the room before it shatters into pieces against the wall and you swallow a sob, quickly resuming your exit and aching at the sounds of further destruction that echo down the hall once the door slams shut.

-

moon bois tags: @acourtofsnakes, @greeneyedblondie44, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @itswanktime, @stevenmylove, @ruhro7, @juletheghoul, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @asgardiandeadpoetsociety, @excitedcurtain864, @chickencouncilrep, @bluestuesday, @katronautt, @what-iwish-you-knew, @totallynotastanacc, @bangaveragewhitewine, @chaoticevilbakugo, @trickstersp8, @rominaszh, @gooddaykate, @midgardianminx, @mishasminion360, @detectivecarisi-1, @quicksilvermad, @raphaelaisabella, @iceclaw101, @thatpinkshirt, @breakfastonpluto19, @withakindheartx, @sirpascal, @littleone65, @xoxabs88xox, @timpletance, @jitterbugs927, @randomchick546, @xdaddysprincessxx, @dnxgma, @astronomeoww, @dindjarinswhore, @Curiouser-an-curiouser, @h-hxgirl, @mischiefnevermanaged94, @mando-amando, @mx-ferelden, @xxvariant, @welcometostayingawake, @trinkets01, @shadowolf993, @mwltwo, @loveslide, @lccs-world, @artsymaddie

[fortune-fool02]

The Doctor will see you now

Luis Serra x ill female reader

Summary: With his lover feeling ill, Luis takes it upon himself to help her get better.

Warning: No spoiler for RE 4 remake. Fluff.

I would like to blame @zer0pm for this idea.

Sorry this is short, please leave feedback and comments as it really helps and is much appreciated. Thank you. Please enjoy.

Waking up, the bright light of the sun burned my eyelids, pulling a soft groan from my lips as I pulled the blankets over my head in an attempt to block it out. An aching pulse rattled my head, making my eyes squint each time my heart beat, it hurt.

Thankfully, I didn't have work today, allowing me to not worry about the bus and irritating day ahead. I headed to bed early last night as I wasn't feeling the best but it seems to have come back in full force and more. My throat scratched with each cough. A piercing ringing filled my head, my phone vibrating loudly, my head throbbing as my hand slid out to ignore it until I saw the name.

"Yeah?" I pushed out, aware that my voice sounded as bsd as I believed it to be. Luis' voice rung from the otherside of the phone.

"Dios mío, my sweetheart. You sound awful. Is everything okay?" His voice was laced with concern, a smile lifting my lips a little at his concern. As playful as he was, he did care about those he considered friends, or more, in my case.

"I'm fine," I turned the phone away as a cough scraped my throat, "Just feeling sick, is all." A part of me was expecting a joke thrown my way or a silly comment but instead, there was silence for a moment or two. I double-checked my phone screen to make sure the call hadn't cut off or something. "Luis?"

"I'll be over in ten minutes." I couldn't get another word in before the phone was hung up. A soft groan left my lips as I let my head drop back down on the pillow. Pulling the blankets back over my head, I tried to settle into some form of comfort without the feeling of spider-webs in my lungs and sandpaper along my throat. My eyes closed for a moment though there was a discomfort, fliting between awake and sleep that only made my head hurt all the more.

There a click in the distance, somewhere I'm not certain about, a soft thud and rustling. Heavy drowsiness weighed me down, making the simplest of movements more draining than they should have been. A sudden ping from my phone pulled me from my half-sleep state.

'Don Quixote: The Doctor will see you now, Miss [Surname]'

Blinking the sleep in my eyes away, I read the message twice more before sighing heavily.

'Me: Are you texting me from the kitchen?'

'Don Quixote: Not at all, princesa. I'm in the living room."

A smile tugged my lips lightly at his antics. Luis always had his ways of making me smile. The door opened up and the man himself stepped in, carrying a bag and wearing his old lab coat, his hair tied back in a bun with a pair of thin-rimmed glasses on. If I weren't feeling so crappy, I might have found this quite appealing.

"Don't worry, Miss [Surname], I am Dr Luis Serra. I'll be helping you get better." His tone was professional yet there was a playful hint under it.

"Luis, love. I-" Another cough racked my chest, a burning, dryness aching in my throat. Luis was prepared, pouring a glass of water and handing it to me which I took gratefully.

"Slow, small sips, darling." He hummed softly, smiling as he got his tools ready. After setting my drink aside, I slowly sat up, deciding to humour the man. He did have medical knowledge, so he might be able to help me get better quicker.

"Now then, how would you describe your symptoms?" Luis sat down on the bed, making sure I had plenty of room before grabbing a pen and notepad, scribbling everything I was about to say down. I listed it off, everything from the sore throat to drowsiness. He pulled a thermometer out his lab coat pocket and wiped it down with a tissue before setting it in my mouth, smiling with a cheeky "Say 'Ahh'."

Once the examination was finished, Luis smiled and presented me with a lollipop.

"For being a brave girl." I took the lollipop and gave him a look, yet I couldn't stop the smile on my lips as I set it aside for later.

[cobaltcarbonpotassium420]

skin to skin - shidou ryusei

tags / warnings: kinda fluffy, shidou is a little confused about his feelings but that's okay, gn! reader, moderately suggestive content but nothing actually happens, not proofread

author's note: first actual fic??? i'm a lil bit bored so why not. i think shidou might be a little ooc in this perhaps but i tried my best! i'm also a little worried that i implied anything too much about the reader's appearance, so i am very very sorry if i did. constructive criticism is appreciated, though i might cry tbh. exams have me fucked up. enjoy!

his hands roam. they don't have any particular goal. he only glides his fingers gently over your skin, exploring the terrain while you sleep. the warm summer air is oppressive, so the duvet has long since been replaced for a much thinner, almost useless blanket. its use is less for warmth than modesty, not that such a thing was really necessary when shidou had already seen everything there was to be seen about you.

his hands traverse over your thighs, still hovering over with a touch so soft he might as well have been dragging a feather along your sleeping form. sure he might have seen everything, but had he ever truly indulged his other senses in you? perhaps he had tasted you, even some hours later you still lingered on his tongue. it's a bitter, salty taste that sent his nerves into overdrive when the first pang hit. he can recreate the moment in his mind, but it never gets him going quite as much as experiencing it does. thoughts are just thoughts, they're never true to the experience.

that's two senses shidou could tick off of his list of ways he knows you, and now he was about to tick off a third. he had felt you before. he held you tight and close, but the sensation was never what he was focused on. he was familiar with how light and malleable you felt in his hands, but truthfully he never indulged in the details of your body. why would he? at the end of the day, your relationship was largely transactional, with very few feelings atttached besides pure, unadulterated lust and passion. he knew your body the way a student might know a book for a class they had to take - they read the summary half an hour before the lesson, and have a vague grasp of the concept, but the details elude them. shidou decided for once to be a good student and learn those details for no reason in particular other than the fact that he was stuck in your apartment with you on account of him having been evicted for threatening other tenants in his old building, and the warm july night kept him awake.

so he goes about slowly studying you, trying not to rouse you from your sleep. his hand starts on your thigh, and slowly travels its circumference. you're laying on your side, back facing shidou, hair carefully tucked under your head (shidou had complained about it getting in his face while he slept before, and threatened to cut it off himself if you didn't do something about it), soft breaths escaping past your lips, and completely unaware of shidou's touch on you. he hopes you don't wake up and then misinterpret it for something more romantic and intimate than it is. he's just indulging his curiosity and trying to stave off the boredom from struggling to fall asleep.

he feels how soft you are, a fact he already knew, but never like this. he feels a slight dryness to your skin too, and thinks that perhaps you should invest in a good lotion, not that it mattered much to him. he doesn't care about something as menial as whether you're moisturising properly, but he knows you might. people less confident than him often look for silly insecurities that no one else could give a single shit about. he won't point out your dry skin. he doesn't care enough, he thinks.

his hands travel up further, and on the sides of your legs he can feel the evidence of the tight grip he held you in just hours earlier. he scowls slightly, thinking that something so unsightly and vulgar shouldn't be on you. it grosses him out a little, though he couldn't pin point why. he assumes its because someone like you doesn't deserve to have a reminder of someone like him on their body. shidou isn't completely satisfied with that answer, but he leaves it as it is, he's not a fan of overthinking things.

his hands now reach your hips. as his fingertips skate over the landscape, he feels stretch marks that go down your thighs and around to your back. he could follow these trusty guides to the back but chooses not to, he's too tired for that. instead, he follows them up to your hipbone, and he feels you stir. he retracts his hand, afraid you'll wake up and wonder what he was doing. any misinterpretation of his actions on your part could have devastating repercussions on the relationship between the two of you, and shidou makes an instant decision to lie and say he accidentally grazed his hand over you while turning in his sleep, should you interrogate him about what he was doing.

but you don't. you're still asleep, you just moved your leg a little, perhaps feeling his ticklish touch in your sleep, and assuming it was some annoying mosquito that came to feed from you while you slept. shidou waits a moment before resuming his late-night study session, listening to the occasional car drive by late in the night. light from the streetlamps and moon float into your open window, and the music from the corner shop across the road accompany it. the sound is tinny, and shidou is surprised it can even be heard all the way over in your apartment. the cashier is probably blasting it from the radio to stop the warmth from coaxing them to sleep.

a minute passes, and shidou gingerly places his hand back on your hip. with the way you've moved, he can slightly feel your hip bone poking out, and the change strikes him as a slight surprise. your soft body and his mindless journey have both been interrupted by the feeling of the hard, smooth bone of your hips. it's just a small intrusion though, and he traces it up and down with his ring finger a few times, suddenly conscious of how unpleasant his skin is compared to yours. callouses line his hands from long and difficult workouts; a figure like his came at a price. he's not insecure of them, but sometimes he picks at his callouses when he's bored and needs something to do with his hands, which in turn makes his skin raw, and lifting weights immediately becomes a much more painful activity.

amid his little sidetrack in thoughts, shidou's hand slips off of your hip bone, and ends up on your stomach. he knows for a fact that if you were awake you'd try to slap his hand off, saying that you feel fat when he places his hands on your pillowy tummy. its another insecurity that he doesn't see the value of. another pointless thought wasting space in your mind. he stretches his hand out over your lower belly, and gently tucks his fingers in on the far side, under where gravity has pulled your skin and organs to create a natural pouch. it radiates heat, and ordinarily shidou would retract his hand. he doesn't need something else to make him uncomfortably warm, not when he's already sweating slightly in the middle of the night from the hellish heatwave that feels like its attacking your apartment relentlessly. he decides this spot was made for his hand by the gods though, its the perfect size to provide him with a little grip on you, and the softness just makes it all the more perfect to hold.

the thought crosses his mind that if you were to wake up, you'd definitely misinterpret his actions. your presence is so soft and pleasant though, and your body is so perfectly moulded to fit into his grip that he decides just this one time to enjoy the feeling. he tentatively moves closer to you, yet again trying not to wake you, and decides he'll explain himself in the morning.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Azris | I Have Been Expecting You, Shadowsinger

type: drabble warning(s): nothing word count: 570 summary: Azriel returns to the Forest House later than expected and Eris isn’t too happy about it. Thank you @autumndreaming7 for the picture inspiration💛

- all rights reserved -

“You are late,” the High Lord of Autumn says matter-of-factly. Half of his face is laced in darkness as the only light source is a single candle burning on top of his desk. 

The High Lord’s tone is as cold as the Winter Court and fully empty of emotion when he speaks to Azriel who steps into the dim room. Oh, the High Lord can play this role so well.

The shadowsinger’s eyes widen when he takes his first look at his mate. They have finally adjusted to his shadowy surrounding. Azriel has to swallow around the sudden dryness in his throat, his heart is starting to beat in a quicker pace. He hasn’t expected Eris to be waiting for him. Not that late. He has expected Eris to be in bed already, waiting for him there. But most definitely Azriel has not expected Eris to be waiting for him like this.

The High Lord’s cloak is draped over the sides of the arm chair, he is wearing no shirt, sitting there in all his half-naked glory, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

“I am—“ “Sorry?” Eris cocks a brow in amusement and stretches one leg, folding the ankle of the other over it. “Are you really?” The High Lord lets his gaze trail over Azriel, slowly, almost tentatively. He devours the sight of his mate — Azriel standing there in all his tall glory, shadows dancing around him, stretching out, yearning for Eris to play with them. Azriel’s sharp features stand out in the dim room, his high cheekbones, his jaw, his plump lips, his beautiful eyes and Eris has a hard time to play all annoyed and angry when all he wants to do is pull Azriel to him and kiss the little pout on his lush lips. 

“I am,” Azriel breathes, his fingers curling towards his palms at his sides. “I got hold up, Cassian wanted to talk about—“ “So the general is more important than your mate?” Eris leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. He silently regards Azriel’s reaction to his accusation and finally clicks his tongue. Eris raises a brow— a silent question that the shadowsinger quickly a moment later. “The matter was urgent, but no, he is not more important than my mate. No one, is and you know that.”

Eris grins brightly at that, he just can’t avoid it, his chest warming at Azriel’s confession. His annoyed mask shatters and he wants Azriel to see just how happy he is about his words. Too long have they been hiding in the shadows, denying their feelings. Eris stretches both his legs then, sitting in a sprawl and pats his lap. “Come here.” Azriel does not have to be told twice, he has been anticipating being close to his mate for hours. He moves forward and only hesitates for a moment to think about how he would sit on his lap— he does not get much time to do so when Eris reaches out his hands, tugs at Azriel’s scarred ones and pulls him onto his lap, Azriel’s thighs caging him. Eris’ lips closer over his Azriel’s and the fiery male kisses him in a gentle yet passionate way that should tell him just how much he has been yearning fro him.

“Gods, I missed you so much,” Eris breathes against the shadowsinger’s lips, his thumb brushing over Azriel’s cheek. Azriel’s eyes are still closed, his lips curling against Eris’ mouth when he lets his hands move up Eris’ chest, loving how hot his mate’s skin feels under his callused palms, how solid and hard his muscles are. How Eris’ flexes his pectorals under his mate’s touch. 

“I am sure I missed you more and it has only been a day.”

Eris pecks the corner of his mate’s mouth and chuckles lowly. Azriel’s hands stay on his mate’s chest, on his pecs, over his heart.

“One day is definitely too long, my love.” Azriel is still smiling when he opens his eyes, hazel meeting russet. Eris swallows, his hand still resting on Azriel’s face, thumb idly swiping back and forth. “How is everything in Windhaven. You said the matter was urgent, I assume it had to do with the war camp.”

Azriel inclines his head. “Yes, just some smaller uproars in Windhaven and Ironcrest.” Azriel leans more into his mate’s touch, savouring Eris’ warmth, reveling in the feel of his mate’s skin on his own, Eris’ rich scent of spices, sandalwood and fire enveloping him. “Can we not talk about it now?”

“Of course,” Eris answers and leans back the tiniest bit. “Let’s go to bed, shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~

tags: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop