#That's why the light eyes instead of going for an obvious shadow eye

[strawberrydracos]

Nyx (#2172499)

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

In The Middle of the Night | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble 1k

Bucky takes a chance on staying the night at your apartment for the first time. But he wakes with the smell of blood in his nose and a feeling that everything has gone wrong.

Warnings: Nightmare, Bucky has PTSD, descriptions of blood, angst with a fluffy happy ending.

A/N: Maybe I woke up in the night convinced I was having a period so bad it rivals something from a horror movie. And naturally I wrote this to help me go back to sleep.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

Hydra had come.

Bucky was half awake, his mind dragging itself back to consciousness with the sure knowledge that spending the night here at your apartment was a terrible idea. Hydra had been watching, they must have been, watching and waiting and now they had hurt you and he would be back in that chair within the hour. He had known it then, protested and put it off and he'd given in and now.

Now.

He could smell blood, it had an iron tang that always lingered in the back of his throat. This was your blood, he had smelt it once before when you had sliced your hand cutting pizza. He'd helped you clean and dress the wound. How could he forget anything about you?

But blood is blood, no matter if it was yours, and it finds its way into his nose and clings there. He could smell it even in his dreams and now, eyes closed but conscious, he can smell it in the room.

Bucky slid his left hand under his pillow, the right was still holding your close. If this was the end, if this was his final moments, he wanted to stretch it out for as long as possible.

You were still warm, so they were close, maybe he had time, maybe -

He sat up with a start, knife in hand and surveyed the room.

Empty, dark, light from between the curtains sliced the carpet it two, but there was no sign of anyone else.

Beside him you sprawled in the sheets, your back to him, but searching for the hand that had been clutched in your own. Movement. You're moving, your hand reaching for his and, not finding it, you roll forwards into your pillow and cuddle that instead.

If you're moving you can't be dead.

Bucky repeats it to himself. If she's moving she can't be dead.

But why is there still that smell. His dreams are vivid but this - it lingers.

He looked down at his hands, reluctant to give up the knife, and there it is smeared all over his right hand.

Your blood.

And his hands and his leg. God it's everywhere and he can't tell now what's real and what's the trick of the light, just a patch a shadow or a pool of blood?

Is this worse than Hydra? This feeling that he's hurt you? Which fear had he ranked at number one? And did it matter now that one of them had happened and he'd done the unthinkable?

Bucky moved backwards, quickly and quietly, he moved away, dropping the knife to the floor and sinking onto the hardwood, wrapping himself in his arms.

"Bucky -" your voice is sleep rough but sweet, shards of handmade toffee, grains of brown sugar at the bottom of his coffee cup, all that's good in his life and he had hurt you. "You okay, Buck?"

There's a rustle as you push back the sheets and then, "oh - shit."

Is that all you can say to the obvious pain he's caused, you're too good. Too good for him, too good for anyone really, who could compare to -

"Baby, why are you on the floor?" Now you're just confused, fully awake and moving in the room.

Your hands cup his cheeks and brush away tears he didn't even know he was shedding.

"Don't, please, I've hurt you, you're bleeding and I thought it was Hydra but it was me-"

"Oh," your laugh is just as wrinkled and sleepy as your voice, "you didn't hurt me Bucky, I - well I'm kinda embarrassed, haven't been caught out since school, but I got my period."

Bucky looks you over now, the flimsy night dress you'd worn to bed only just touches the tops of your thighs, it's white and the satin shines in the moonlight, but all he can see is the rose of blood on the hem, the sticky shimmer between your legs.

"My hands, I woke up and my hands were -"

"Remember how we fell asleep?" You coo and he nods shyly.

He does remember, he remembers kissing and sliding a leg between yours and then his hands and it had been so soft and slow. You'd fallen asleep tangled together.

Bucky's mind is racing but he knows one thing now with clarity, he needs to take care of you.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" There's a frantic urgency to each movement that he makes, trying to stand and sliding on the floor instead.

You laugh again and kiss him, full and hard, on the mouth. It's easy and loving and there's no anger in it at all.

Because he hasn't hurt you.

"No, but thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower, get myself cleaned up and sorted. Then I'll change the sheets. Are you okay? I'm worried about you. Did you have a nightmare?"

Tears well again, he doesn't deserve this.

"You do."

"What?"

"You do deserve this, me, us and I deserve you. I love you, Bucky Barnes, every little bit of you, even the bits that you don't want me to see."

And you kiss his temple, your hands cupping his stubble rough cheeks.

"I love you too." He says with finality, "and I'll change the sheets for you, please go and get comfortable."

It doesn't take Bucky long to strip and change the bed. He soaks the bottom sheet in the sink the way his Ma showed him, and sets a cup of sweet tea and an iron tablet on the bedside table for after your shower.

Before he knows it he's spent his adrenaline on making you comfortable, his eye lids suddenly heavy as soon as you slip back in to bed.

The light clicks off but he doesn't remember doing it. He does remember wrapping his arms around you and tugging you close.

"I love you so much," he whispers into your hair, kissing the top of your head. He can feel your smile when you tip your chin up and kiss his jaw.

"I love you so much, too."

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

MDNI, Mentions of sex but no smut, violence.

Thinking about baby daddy!Miguel O’Hara who’s scow immediately returned to his face as soon as you and your daughter were out of sight. Wasting no time to march to the elevator and hit the button to your floor.

Baby daddy!Miguel who couldn’t help but let out a scoff in disgust when he turned the corner of your hall and saw Henry sitting on the floor against your door. Not noticing until he was close enough that he was passed out, head lulled to the side, and an occasional snores leaving him as Miguel glared down at him.

Baby daddy!Miguel who had to resist the urge to wake him up with a swift punch in the face, and not stop until he wasn’t conscious again.

Baby daddy!Miguel that opted to instead nudged him with the side of his foot. Wanting to see what bullshit he’s spew out first.

—

What you ever say in this guy, Miguel will never understand, what you’d see in any guy that wasn’t him he’d never understand. Although to be fair, when you were with him, he probably wasn’t as pitiful looking as this.

“Not so much of a cocky ass now huh?” He couldn’t help but mumble to himself before taking the heel end of his foot and nudged the smaller male's knee. “Wake up.”

After a few more nudges, Henry woke with a loud snore, droopy eyes looking around in confusion before he finally noticed the legs in front of him. Neck cracking up slowly until he was met with the sight of Miguel’s body hulking over him. The overhead lights casting a shadow over his face so he couldn’t read his expression, and if Henry was just a tad bit less drunk, he’d feel the death-like glare being casted on him.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” He slurred, remembering why he was outside your door in the first place.

“None of your business.” Miguel retorted, hands crossing in front of his chest. Despite his scary guard dog aura, Henry tsked in annoyance as he began to stand.

“I think knowing where my girlfriend is my business-“

“She’s not your girlfriend anymore.”

Silence filled the air as Henry was finally able to get himself up on two feet, before a scoff left his lips.

“She already told you. I’m not surprised.” Now it was Miguel’s turn to scoff.

“Of course she told me. I'm the father of her child-“

“I knew something had to still be going on with you two.” Henry’s finger jabbed into Miguel’s chest, his drunken slurring forming into a bit of a hiss. Not phasing the bored look on Miguel’s face. “I’m not fucking blind, I’ve seen the way you looked at her. You’re still in love with her.”

“Look, I’m not wanting to cause any problems,” that’s a lie, “but it’s obvious you’ve had too much to drink and are just talking nonsense. She doesn’t want to see you, alright? So how about you walk away and leave her and my daughter alone.” Miguel spoke calmly, not denying the allegations thrown his way before they both knew it was true.

Miguel’s hand found its way to Henry’s back, not-so-gently pushing him towards the elevator and away from your front door.

“I’m not stupid as you think I am, man.” Henry retorted, planting his heels into the wooden floor to stop himself, before turning around to face Miguel again. “You’re not over her, you don’t think I knew what you were doing at the barbecue when you were dancing with her? Practically fucking her in front of me.” Miguel’s jaw clenched to keep himself from acting irrationally as Henry hissed at him like a dog ready to attack. “The way you always try to one up me in front of her. I’ve seen your messages to her, the old photos, the Spanish nicknames-.”

“Alright that’s enough dude.” Miguel interrupted him. Tone returning to its harsher original one.

“I’m not surprised the minute the opportunity comes, she runs back to your ass!” Henry shoved against Miguel, causing no recoil from the larger man.

“I’m not the one who cheated on her.” Miguel snapped back.

“Yeah, but you were just waiting for the opportunity for me to fuck up. Look like some…knight in shining armor.”

“Okay, man let’s go. You’re not gonna be able to finish this fight. Go home.” That’s when he felt it, a harsh pain on the side of his face. He didn’t realize till he touched his cheekbone and hissed at the throbbing sensation that came from the area that had transpired.

Henry just punched him in the face.

“I wanted to be nice. You already put her through a lot of shit in the past few days.” He mumbled as he rubbed the stop that was sure to bruise black and blue. “But you decided to make this more difficult for yourself.”

Henry didn’t have a chance to reply before his back collided with the wall, air being knocked out from his lungs as Miguel’s hands found their way to Henry's throat.

“You wanna know what happened the night she caught your ass sleeping with another girl?” The question was rhetorical.

“…What?” Henry asked, voice meek under the weight of Miguel’s hands.

“I got her to stop crying, comforted her… got her some food… then I started fucking her till she starts to cry again.”

“You son of-“ Henry began, trying to thrash his way out from under Migue, only to have more pressure applied to his throat. He quickly stopped when he felt himself become light headed, arms that were around Miguel’s wrist drop back down to his sides, and a cough left his throat when the hands around his neck loosened slightly so he could breathe a bit more properly again.

“You’re gonna shut up and listen, and listen good.” Miguel began, his voice dropping down to just above a whisper. Allowing Henry to let out a frantic nod before continuing. “I was the one who comforted her when you fucked up and broke her heart. I was the one who was there to pick up the pieces, not you. I’m the only one who knows her better than she knows herself. I’m the father of her child, me. It was always gonna be me. You weren’t the one who changed her baby’s diapers, you weren’t the one who taught Gabi to ride a bike, you weren’t there for her like I was. You never will, because when it comes down to it, she’ll pick me over you, every. damn. time.”

Miguel didn’t know what felt better, finally getting Henry to shit his smug ass up, for being able to get all his frustrated thoughts out in words.

“She’s mine, she’s always been mine, she's always going to be mine. So don’t for another second, think that you can just walk back into her life and act like you own her. You don’t own shit, you understand?” Miguel finally ended his rant, eyes narrowed as he waited for Henry’s response. Satisfaction flowing through his veins when the smaller male looked like he had just just been face to face with the grim reaper himself.

“I-yeah, yes-I understand.” Henry finally stuttered, face paled, and eyes wide.

“Good, now I want you to walk out of this building, and walk out of her life. If I see you or hear you trying to talk to her ever again, I’m not gonna do as much talking next time.”

—

Part 8<

Not proofread.

Word count:1.2k

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush

@queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker

@pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry

@haveclayeveryday @leonsbimbogf @bmoplanet @carmison @c4rm1son

@scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz

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@ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade

[bachiras-toaster]

washing your hands at 1am meaning : ̗̀➛

SEISHIRO NAGI x gn!reader

contents. m!masturbation

Being roommates with your best friend out of convince meant that you were more exposed to the strange quirks that came with living with him. Like how he washed dishes a certain way, or how he was the type of person to like all windows in the apartment open to ‘let the cool breeze in’, even if it was already freezing. But one of the strangest things that you noticed after living with him was his odd habit of washing his hands in the middle of the night for seemingly no reason.

It was always at the same time at around 1am that you’d be awoken by the abrupt creaking noises of the floorboard as he trudged over to the bathroom, the sound of water flowing from the faucet and the pumping of the soap dispenser following soon after. Nagi didn’t have any hobbies outside of football as far as you were aware, and he didn’t have any physical projects that created a lot of mess that you saw could contribute to him constantly needing to cleanse himself in the middle of the night. Yet, the same always happened when you expected it to. At around one am, when you’re presumed to be asleep.

There was a particular night where you had stayed up extra late on your phone, but your lights were off and you were completely silent, so if Nagi were to pass by your room, he’d automatically assume that you had already gone to bed. So when your eyes met the small time in the corner of your phone that read 1:24am and you realised that your roommate hadn’t washed his hands at the usual time, you got suspicious. Maybe he just wasn’t working on his supposed project tonight? Or maybe, like you, he had stayed up later that anticipated.

Due to the bubbling noise of your curiosity building up in your brain, you steadily began to climb out of bed, making as little noise as possible to see if you would be able to check if Nagi was still even awake at this time. Maybe if he was, you’d be able to catch a glimpse at what he had been doing all this time.

When you reached his room down the hall, the dim light of what you could assume was his lamp faintly lit the inside of his room, and the warm light poured through the small gap between the open door and its frame, allowing your eye to creepily peek through. You made sure to keep your back pressed up against the other side of his door so that even your shadow couldn’t be spotted as you glimpsed inside, noting what was going on in the scene that was set.

However, when your eyes laid on Nagi, he wasn’t at his desk like you had anticipated, he was instead at his bed. He probably hadn’t realised that he had left his door slightly open, which is why he seemed to be pleasuring himself so freely. His back was pressed up against the pillows of his bed and his knees were brought up a little as his hand jerked away at his thick cock, his head lifting up to face the ceiling at the same time. Seeing him in such a state caused your eyes to widen and to clasp your hand over your mouth to suppress an upcoming gasp. Was he—? Surely not… No, he definitely was.

His palm glided so quickly and so easily along the base of his dick that it was obvious that he had been at it for quite a while. Despite feeling like your eyes must have been violating something by just remaining behind the door, you couldn’t help but continue watching as his hand sped up. He was letting out strained gasps and grunts the more desperate he became to chasing his high, and his eyes were squeezed shut as he concentrated on following that path to completion. Your eyes were fixed on how his thighs were shaking a little the faster he became, and how his groans steadily evolved into whimpers with how he reached his climax.

Eventually, you found that thick ropes of white soon erupted from his throbbing, pink tip, and that his hand movements began to slow. Nagi even went on to lazily thrust his hips upward into his own unsteady palm, trying to ride out the pleasure that he felt for as long as possible before it all washed away.

You didn’t realise how your other hand had almost instinctively travelled down to just above your crotch, feeling a warm sensation building up between your legs as your face flushed at the sight. Your breath was shaky against the palm that was still cupped over your mouth as you watched Nagi groan softly when he realised that he would, once again, be responsible for cleaning up the mess he had made. His eyes looked irritatingly down at his palm, which was stained with the sticky ribbons of white satisfaction. And soon, you saw his lips mutter curses under his breath before he turned over in the bed and plant his feet to the ground, going to walk over to the door.

When you saw that he had gotten out of bed, you were already lunging back towards your room and shutting your door quickly, diving into bed as you hid under your duvet, blinking widely at your pillows as you contemplated on if you really had seen what you had just seen.

The time was now 1:33am and the sound of the bathroom door opening was heard once again, followed by the sound of the faucet running.

[aakaneeee]

ROUND 7 THEORY.

Till is going to lose: and Hyuna won't be there to save him.

this is insanely long, hug yourselves

I. Hyuna won't be part of the rescue mission.

I'm going to start with the obvious: today's alien stage friday content that opened my third eye.

obviously, hyuna is.. suffering is an understatement right now, she appears in a lot of pain, having to lean on mizi to walk. not only this, but mizi is distressed too. she is looking back, and the warning:intruder sign is reflecting in her eyes. interesting detail I've seen: the screen behind hyuna I'd light, and I personally think it's Luka's promotional photoshoot we've seen in All-In. maybe a slight reach, and not a good point to base a whole theory I genuinely believe in on, but trust me, it all ties togheter: Hyuna is looking directly forward, towards a 'light', while Mizi is looking back, at a warning sign. So, Hyuna will go to their base, and Mizi will do the rescuing mission alone. This might sound stupid, but the AMOUNT of content I found that holds this theory is insane.

Speaking about All-In..

This is a promotional video for All-In. (Might be the teaser but I'm tweaking) Mizi is only shown in the car scene, where she's togheter with Hyuna. In the other parts, Hyuna is completely alone. This might not mean a lot, except that we have this official art:

Unlike the frame in the video, Hyuna is alone here, leaving dust on the on the other cars. Does this mean that she'll go alone? Perhaps leave alone? And there's even more I consider as 'evidence'.

In the cover of hyuna ver. of ROMH, she seems to be laying down, something that I don't think she would be able to do while still being in the ALNST building, and the splash on her face seems to be similar to the character's that have died.

As happy as this looks, again, Mizi isn't here. The rest of the rebellion is, and she's wearing the outfit she had on in All-In when making that video with the others. She's making a gun sign, something usual for her, she's done it multiple times all over. Is this foreshadowing of her being shot?

But this.. even though the backround is Hyuna, it's obvious that the hands are not hers because of the light skin. So is this Mizi that's trying to learn from Hyuna? Maybe because she has to do a mission without her? Back to the All-In teaser, we don't see who's holding the gun that flashes between the frames of Hyuna's hand making a gun sign. I personally think it's Mizi instead, since now she's learned how to fire. Afterall, in All-In, even Hyuna is surprised at her sudden fierceness.

Here, it seems like Hyuna is being announced something, while sitting down. But what could be so important that she is told with such secrecy? The only thing I can imagine is a rescue mission, but she isn't there herself.

In this art, Mizi is looking down, while Hyuna is looking up, with a stern face, almost monitoring. But where could Mizi be, so high up she has to look down, and so bright she has to shadow her eyes? This takes me to the next part of my theory:

II. Till is going to lose.

The light from above the stage in the Round 7 teaser is dark blue, but a specific shade that has been often associated with Mizi. Is she there, so that's why she's looking down? Also from the teaser, we have this (which I think was pointed out before):

The little gun aim light is pointed towards the stage from an alien that seems to have a guard helmet, and then a light covers Till. I think it's enough proof that something will happen to him, but I have more. So much more.. And yet, I think the other ones fit more into another category. III. Even though he'll lose, Till won't die. But he won't live well, either. I am not delusional, I genuinely think Mizi's rescue mission will go well.

Here, Till is holding a strand of Mizi's long hair, the hair we know is long gone. In relationship with the first category, Hyuna is the only one missing from this art.

I initially thought it was Till protecting Mizi from something, but no. I think it's Till protecting the image of Mizi he remembers from something he finds terrifying: and I think that scary thing is the real Mizi, the Mizi that exists now. It's a common theme that Till is only inlove with the image of Mizi, so what if that dissapears? I imagine he'd be terrified of that.

Here, the wire of Till's collar (that we've seen him wearing in round 7, too) seems to be blending with Mizi's hair, as if he is bound to the image of past her. (Since we know her hair is short now.)

In this, the tape is similar to the one that covered his mouth in Top 3, but here, his mouth is wide opened, the tape instead covering his name, as if his freedom, his own voice was given back to him, rather covering his branding whom is proof of ownership.

Here, the characters that are behind have died, and the ones that are holding flowers are the ones who love Mizi. But again, it's the long haired old Mizi.

III. Hallucinations

Alien Stage is about romance, and hallucinating your loved one isn't new in it. Mizi hallucinated Sua in Round 5, and Till hallucinated Mizi (again, her old version) after... we all know what I mean. Hallucinating has led to losing, but is this going to be the case in Round 7?

Well, yes and no. Yes for Till, no for Luka, and I think this aspect is the one that makes the most difference between them.

Let's talk about Till first. I feel like Luka won't genuinely see Till as a threat, especially after Round 6. I do not think that he will do the ROMH technique. And yet, I think Till will hallucinate Ivan in him anyways. Looking at Luka's stage smile and Ivan's default expression, they look very similar (atleast to me), and the white outfits might do it, too.

This particular image makes me feel like that. His fingers aren't purple, which, I don't know what to make out of it, but it's about the neck holding. Ivan always seemed to have something with Till's neck, and there's a lot of art to prove it. This is undoubtedly something that Ivan would do, and I can imagine Till hallucinating Ivan, or atleast, a warped version of him, in situations like this. Till is already in a bad place mentally, so I feel like such a thing would destroy him, even though he won't go down without a fight.

Onto Luka. I think hallucinating Hyuna in Till is inevitable: their energy is just incredibly similar. But unlike Till, Hyuna is Luka's motivation to sing.

In this comic, we find out that Luka doesn't truly like singing: his only reason for singing is (or atleast, was) the fact that Hyuna likes it. And again, unlike Till, Luka is obsessed with the stage. It's canon that he has low self-esteem, and that winning is his way of raising it up. I don't see him having a mentality like Till, but rather, one that sounds more like "Only I get to kill you.", so a competition against Hyuna would only make him more motivated. And so, I think that hallucinating Hyuna gets him even closer to a win.

IV. Till will escape: but at what cost?

Till knows that the last time he turned down escaping, it didn't go well. So, even now, with the new image of Mizi, even now, with Ivan dead, even now, when he's still holding onto an image long gone of someone he loves, he will accept, but without getting implicated into whatever the resistance does too much. Why? Because he thinks he has nothing left except his hallucinations.

V. Conclusion

I'm sorry for how long this is!! I've been thinking for sooo long... I really like how I've made this though, in the end. extra: In this official art, the characters that are slightly smiling are now dead (sua, ivan).. it doesn't really mean anything to what I said (I think), but I found it interesting :)

[daycourtofficial]

Like he’s just your understudy

Summary: based on this request - Can Azriel tamper down his jealousy over you going on a date?

Author’s note: have some fun, level headed jealous Az. 😘

“Is your whiskey that bad brother?”

Cassian’s chipper voice grates on Azriel’s ears. He looks down, unaware of the intense grip he had on his glass. His shadows were tight around him, turning him into a ball of darkness.

“Cass, leave him alone. You know why he’s upset,” Rhys’s voice floats over to the two of them before picking up his wine glass.

Mor looks confused, looking to Cassian or Feyre to explain.

“(Y/n)’s out on a date right now,” Feyre says softly, trying not to add fuel to Azriel’s state.

Cassian chuckles, hitting his brother on the back. “Not happy for her? He was quite good looking-“

Azriel’s head whips towards him, “you saw him?”

Cassian smile falters just a tad, “uh, yeah. He came by to pick her up - even came in and talked to Rhys and I for a minute.”

Azriel’s shadows go wild at this news - searching frantically around the house for someone who wasn’t there.

“And why wasn’t I told?” His grip tightens again, fingers straining against the glass.

Rhys waves a hand, an amused smirk on his face. “You were up brooding in your room.”

Azriel’s eyes snap to Rhys, deciding then that maybe he didn’t need two brothers. “I was not brooding-“

“Then what were you doing?” Mor’s amused voice interjected.

The eyes of his family were watching him as he met her question with silence.

Azriel couldn’t take it - their knowing looks, their smirks, their laughs, as if what he felt for you was some joke.

He couldn’t stand watching you, a beacon of light, trail off to light up someone else’s night.

He scoots his chair back, slamming his glass down. He gets up, about to leave his family and their insistence on family dinners, when Amren speaks up.

“They asked about you before leaving.”

His head snaps over to the newly turned fae, unsure if he can trust anything coming from her.

“It’s likely because I wasn’t here,” Azriel dismisses.

“Feyre and Mor weren’t here - they didn’t ask about them.”

Azriel looked at Nesta, the one person who saw through everyone else. Nesta, the person you were closest to besides Azriel. Nesta, who would never lead Azriel down a path of heartbreak.

Nesta returns his gaze before saying, “they’re down at that new restaurant on Third Avenue.”

Azriel gave her a quick nod before moving past everyone, walking through the foyer, and out the door.

-

The male that had asked you out at Rita’s was incredibly nice. He was tall, fit, and had the cutest dimple next to his mouth.

He was currently telling you a story about his younger sister, who was only eight years old. He seemed to care about her a lot, as he told you that he spends every Thursday night with her playing dress up.

He checks all of your boxes, he’s incredibly swoon worthy, and you two even share the same sense of humor.

But his eyes are the wrong shade of hazel, his jaw cut in just the wrong way, no wings adorn his back, no shadows skitter about him.

You knew pining over Azriel was a fruitless endeavor by this point. You were being so obvious about your feelings - it was clear he was ignoring every glaring sign you sent his way in favor of keeping you from further embarrassment.

Your date had excused himself to go to the restroom. He was gone for approximately fifteen seconds before someone else slides into his empty seat.

“Make up an excuse to leave. Let me take you out instead.”

You had no idea where he came from, or what he was saying as you look up to find Azriel, his hazel eyes molten gold in the candlelight.

“What?” You ask, noting the irriated look he was donning as he sniffed the air.

“Look, I - just end your date early, tell him you’re sick.”

Your eyes widen at him, looking around to make sure he hadn’t come back. “Az are you nuts? Why?”

He blows out a breath, leaning forward on the table.

“Because I am a selfish fool of a male who thought you didn’t feel the same way I feel about you. Now, if I’ve completely made a fool of myself, do tell me now so I can at least throw myself in the Sidra and die with dignity.”

Wide eyes peer back at him, “what do you mean ‘the way you feel about me’?”

Azriel sighs, looking in the direction your date went off to.

“Fuck it. I yearn for you. I want you in any conceivable way. I’m in love with you. And if I’m too late, I’ll just live with that for the rest of my life.”

Azril sighs in defeat as you stare blankly back at him. He looks up to see your date coming back to the table, a bit confused by the new presence.

He starts to stand, his wings drooping, all his determination gone as he says, “have a good night.”

He starts walking away when a hand gently wraps around his wrist, holding him in place.

“What’s going on?” Your date asks as he approaches the table.

You start to stand, the table clattering as you do so. “I’m so sorry,” you say, and Azriel can’t look at you, can’t watch your mouth form these next words. “There’s a bit of an emergency situation, and I have to go. It was lovely meeting you.”

Before Azriel could process that you rejected someone who wasn’t him, you were pulling your coat from your chair, tugging him out the door of the restaurant, and you didn’t lighten your grip until you were out in the street.

“So, about that date? Does now work?”

[marysdonuts]

S stands for scam

nepo baby!Seungcheol x scammer!reader

Synopsis: You are cold hearted scammer who loves to break men and use them for money. Seungcheol the rich nepo baby is your next target. Will the sadness in his eyes melt your icy heart? Or will you empty his bank account?

Warnings: smut, scam, dom!reader, sub!seungcheol (first time), slightly sad!seungcheol, oral (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, light butt stuff (m.receiving), crack

WC: 1.7K

Status: part 1. - ongoing

a/n: join my taglist to get notified about new chapters - here

You always liked cocky guys. You know, those who reek of confidence. Who boast their good looks for everybody to see. That smirk on their face.. Like they know they are the shit. Bossing people around. Extremely competitive. Eyes that don't take No for an answer. And let's be honest... Rich. Money makes you move.

You also liked, no, loved to take these type of men and wipe that annoying grin off their handsome faces. Make them beg or even better - cry. After being done with them, take all the cash and dip. Especially if they looked tough. Sweet little challenge for your ego.

That's why you picked Choi Seungcheol as your next target. It was not unusual to see him frequent the same upscale hotel bar as you. Upscale and luxury were two things you like more than putting men in their place. Unfortunately, for Him, he was both.

//

Sitting at the bar, each time in new tailored suit, definitely italian, changing limited edition watched like socks. Always came alone and acted like he owned the place. Manspreading on the chair, taking up space for three. So annoying.

However, men like that are such an easy prey.

"Your drink looks delicious, what is it called?" question rolled off your tongue with childlike curiosity, doe eyed, like you never had a sip of alcohol before. You always looked innocent. They never seen what was coming.

"Whiskey Sour" he slowly turned his head in your direction with raised eyebrow. He looked angry. Well, for a second. Looking you up and down, anger turned into pleasant surprise.

"Bartender, mix one for the lady" He didn't ask questions, only commands.

"I didn't say I want one" You smirked, knowing he bit the bait

"Join me" patting the chair next to him. Decreasing his manspreading to two people space. Damn, why are his thighs so huge? Sitting down, quite close to each other, whiff of his perfume entered your aura. Wood and Musk? Not sure, but he smelled good.

"Not bad. I mean your perfume" Compliments get the leo heart and you did your research.

"What about me?" he closed the distance between you, self assured look on his face

"You? Decent"

"Only decent?"

"I've met many people like you,"

"Oh? Is that right?" he paused, competitive side bubbling to the surface "Darling, you never met anybody like me" he purred

Just where you wanted him

"Spoiled, rich, pretty boy, spending his daddy's money" You continued

"So, you think I am pretty" He laughed, boost of confidence you could almost physically see. Like a skill level up in online game. Shoulders growing wider.

Confidence +1!

You sipped on your drink instead of answering. Letting him have this one. Glass hanging from your fingertips.

"Shall we get going?" he asked, suggestively brushing over your hand, taking the drink from it. You have to give it to him. He does not waste time. What Cheol wants Cheol gets. The way he was moving made it obvious nobody ever had the guts to question his autority. Sweet smile on your lips, dark shadow passing over your eyes.

"Lead the way"

Oh how you were looking forward to teaching this one a lesson.

//

Gently pressing your back to the door the moment they closed, his hands hugging the curve of your face, he swallowed your lips desperately. But in such a loving manner? What's going on in here? Is he not the type of person you thought he was?

"It's not often, people have the courage to say what they really think about me. To my face." Resting his forehead on your shoulder. Soft hair tickling your neck.

Why did that sound so sad? Almighty guy, now somehow looked like a lost puppy. You could tell he was tired of always being the responsible one. Searching for a caring soul that would take care of him. For once.

"There is more where that came from" you smirked. Pity? You did this many times before. Use a guy. Get the money. Why should it be any different today? You won't let any pity distract you from your goal.

Now pinning Him to the door. Forcing your knee between his thick thick thighs. He could probably crush you with those if he wanted. Ha. Take that.

"Such a big boy yet so weak" you mocked him

Eyes widening in shock, Cheol didn't resist. It was his first time being talked to like that. He didn't know what to make of it, but the growing heat of the moment your knee almost touched his Cheol Jr., showed him the way.

//

Next thing he knew, his knees were painfully pressed on to the wooden floor, gasping for air, as you completely drenched, slid painfully slow stroke over his face. Gliding your needy clit down the length of his nose, circling it like you had all the time in the world. You found your way to his, already open and waiting - mouth. Bulging in his pants became more and more evident, wet spot made its appearance quite quickly. Expensive fabric hardly keeping any secrets.

"Not the best day to wear gray suit, huh?" You smirked, running hand thru his full wavy hair, ending the gentle pet by pulling him closer.

"mmhm! " Seungcheol could barely breathe not to mention speak, the only thing that came out was muffled whine. No space was left between the two of you. He felt so weak. Just as you said. There was no strenght to fight back and step by step he realised that he didn't want to.

"You okay down there, pretty boy?" you couldn't help but laugh at the teary look in his eyes, mouth completely filled with your heat.

"I will need you to hold still now" not waiting for him to answer

You started rubbing on his face with gusto. Step by step increasing the vigour of your strokes. Caged moans, whimpers and what was that? Little cries? Kept escaping one by one from this tough built man, imprisoned between your thighs. You could tell he completely gave himself to the sensation.

"Look at you, moaning all over the place. Does it feel that good being used like a toy?" pushing him on his back, your legs now framing each side of his handsome, messed up face. You could see your dripping excitement spread all over his face, glistering under the warm lights. If he was wearing mascara it would be ruined by now.

"i-it does.." cheeks flushed with rosy colour, his confidence left the room long time ago

Confidence -10!

"Such a good boy. Do you know what happens to good boys, Cheollie?" At the sound of his name being spoken so sweetly, throb in his trousers almost made them explode. Nobody called him like that.

" What - " didn't finish, just looking at you with those sparkly brown eyes completely at your mercy

" You get a reward! " you exclaimed almost as if you were Oprah throwing gifts at her guests.

Straddling him backwards.

"Keep licking" you command as your warm lips reach the throbbing bulge in his pants. Soft kisses falling all over his pride. As they became increasingly wet the force he was eating you out with, surged.

"Shall I take it ou-" suddenly moaning as his tongue hit the correct spot.

"mmh p...l..se" struggling to get his answer out

"I will take that as a yes" slowly lowering his bottoms. All of him springing up like mushrooms after rain, slapping your cheek, leaving his precum all over it.

"Already this wet, huh?"

Pulling your lips closer to the tip, starting with playful licks circling the perimeter. Your kisses becoming sloppy, hands joining into the motion, cheeks hollowing. Up and down, up and down and in spiral. Producing moans from under you.

Cheol didn't know if it was the lack of air, the pulsing of your pussy tightly pressed on him or your pretty mouth, so so wet covering every single spot of his sensitive area... But he had a feeling he might finish uncharacteristically quickly. This was entirely new experience for him.

"fuck.. it feels so good, " Finally, a coherent sound escaping out for a second "not sure how long I will last if you keep sucking me like that"

"Then I better get to the highlight of tonight" chuckling devilishly as you quickly jumped off of his face.

"Put those muscles to use and take me to the bed" you ordered the poor man with his pants still stuck at the knees.

He wobbled but obeyed. After completely taking off his trousers, once carefully pressed fabric was a mess on the floor. Covered in your saliva and his own juices.

The image of finally embracing you, feeling your tightness powered his moves as he carried you in his arms, bridal style. Carefully laying you down on the sheets. You enjoyed that more than you'd ever admit.

"Such a strong big boy" you whispered as your lips brushed his cheek. Kiss as reward. Sending electric shocks down his spine.

"I will need you to kneel for me, okay?"

His head moved in agreement but the hands shamefully covering how hard he was.

"It's too late to cover up. I already saw everything," you laughed, positioning yourself behind him

"well... almost everything." suddenly forcing his head to the pillows, leaving his bottom raised up and totally exposed. He gasped as you started spreading his thick thighs apart. Nestling your face between the cherry cheeks, hot breath reaching the sensitive pink flesh. Freeing your tongue from behind your teeth. Pressing your mouth against his pulsing rectum all at once.

"Ohhh" he moaned in pleasure. Well, for a moment. Before realising what was happening

"Wait! Where do you think you are going??" He almost cried out

//

Cheol was an adventurous guy, but not THAT adventurous. However, the moment he felt your hot slippery tongue in his prohibited zone picking up speed running in circles, and heard your moans becoming louder and louder.. He started loosing any inhibitions present until this moment. His legs slowly opening even more on their own accord, hips pushing up and meeting your mouth halfway. All of this a reflex. He didn't know he had it in him, but the body was reacting and he could not control any of it.

Dignity -20!

to be continued

[the-kr8tor]

Talking Iron

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.4k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW injury, CW food mentions, CW vomit mention, CW violence. Cowboy AU, old west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

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CHAPTER 2 >>> CHAPTER 3

You haven't been this close to him in 5 years. Breath to breath, heart to heart, you watch yourself in his jade eyes like how one sees themselves for the first time.

“I've finally found you.” Eyes shining, smile brighter than the sun bearing down, you grasp his face tenderly—as if your own eyes deceive you, as if you're dreaming. “Hobie?” You call for him when he doesn't move an inch above you.

Hobie's green eyes just stare at you, or through you. Mouth agape, breath stuck in his throat. To get his attention, you place your thumb softly over the corner of his eye, rubbing gently like you always did when he needed to wake up from a daydream.

For a split second, he leans in your touch. But as fast as he leaned in, he flinched away just as quick. Hobie scrambles away on the dusty ground like you've burned him. You might as well have when he felt how cold the golden band around your middle finger is. Soil dirtying the thick leather he wears, he stands up shakily. With the sun behind him, you have a hard time seeing his face, seeing the face you've longed for. A shadow cast around him, a halo of light around his head, the shadow blanketing him, as if you're not allowed to bear witness to all his glory.

Instead of ‘I love yous’ or ‘I miss yous’ falling on his lips, harshness flows out of them. “What are you doin' ‘ere?”

Hands bound, you try to sit up but fail. “Looking for you of course!” You say cheerfully, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is to you, for him, it's the most confusing statement.

“Why?” Hobie's hands clenched into fists. He's not going to hurt you, he'll never hurt you—but he really wants to punch something. Just when he thought the past won't haunt him, just when he pushed the past behind him, you came to him like some miracle.

You almost scoff. “W-why? To see you, just like you wanted me to.” Finally succeeding to sit up, you huff. “Five years of no communication,” you say forlornly, “of course I'd come and see you the moment you sent word.” You smile again, and he looks away. Anywhere, anything else than the curl of your lips.

“Sent word?” He shakes his head. “I've never sent you anythin'” His words would pierce your heart but your excitement and relief triumphs over the feeling.

“A-are you sure?” You blink slowly, reaching up with your bound hands. “Can you help me up, please? I'll show you the letter.”

“Letter?”

“Can you stop asking and just help me up, Hobie? Please, the ground is hot.” With a quick nod, eyes still glancing away from you, he grabs you by the rope around your hands, avoiding touching your own; lifting you up rather quickly. The moment you're back on your feet, he yanks his hand away from you, to which you're too happy to even notice. “It's in my skirt pocket, the right.” You instruct him since you can't reach it with your hands tied. Hobie reaches to your left, hand roaming around your empty pocket, careful not to graze your thigh. “My right, Hobs.” He freezes in place, he hasn't heard that nickname in years. Without another word, he takes his hand back, then he searches for the neatly folded paper. “I've never pegged you to be a law man. Are you gonna turn me over, sheriff?”

Hobie scowls at the title, “not even close.” He sees how much it's been folded, like you've read it a thousand times. Opening the letter, scanning the contents, the pause gives you time to admire him fully. The whole ‘american cowboy’ shtick suits him, you think. You ogle him unabashedly.

Each word has his jaw tightening. It's in his writing, he remembers the exact words that's full of longing and sadness. It's full of the words you expect him to say. Yet, he wasn't the one who sent it. He's sure he didn't, especially that it was written when he was drowning in his amber filled glass. “Where'd you get this?” His eyes flick over to you, your smile faltering for only a second.

“A mail carrier?” You chuckle, “it was delivered to me.”

“I didn't send this to you.”

“Oh.” Your smile crumbles but you fix it back up almost immediately, optimism winning. “Maybe you just forgot? Remember when you forgot to put on a sock that one time and—”

“This isn't some sock, Y/N.”

“You didn't ask for me? Was it forged?” You ask quietly, heart shattering with every question.

Hobie shakes his head, sucking in his teeth, he pockets the letter. Taking the rope that hangs on your bounded hands, he tugs you back to the shop. “C’mon.” Boots thudding on the ground, he's going to do what he's good at—his job.

“W-wait! I haven't seen you in five years and you're seriously taking me to face charges? Not even a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you doing?’” You yank back, heels digging in to stop him.

“Hello, you're not goin’ to jail, I need the ten bucks. You seem fine so ‘m bringin’ you home.” Dragging you inside, the shopkeeper grins and even claps at the sight.

“That is so much worse! Hobie—” You plead, you don't remember ever pleading with him before.

“Good job, Mr…?” The moustachioed man asks, ten dollar bill in hand.

“No one.” Hobie snatches the bill, then immediately dragging you towards the front of the shop. The bells chime as he opens the door, but you're too polite to not say sorry to the man.

“I'm sorry for pointing the gun at you, but you shouldn't have shot at someone who cannot shoot back. It's rude—!” You get yanked outside, the man looks confused at your words.

“Don't apologize to him.” Hobie says, hands placed on your hips, a feeling that isn't foreign to you, but something you missed dearly.

You grin at him, expecting him to say the words you long for. Instead, you get lifted up. Yelping, connected hands flying to his wrists, he places you on his horse. Hitching your hands around the horn of his saddle.

“I think we're good, Hobie, you got his money. Can you untie me now?” You start to get nervous. The brilliant black horse looks over his shoulder, black marbles staring at you, paying you no mind. “Hi, I'm Y/N. It's a pleasure.”

“The horse doesn't talk, lov—” He stops himself before he could complete his sentence. Hobie lifts himself up, sitting behind you, legs next to yours, arms cageing you in while he holds the reins. “Thought you'd know that. Or is it because the horses back in England learned to talk after I left.” You still have no idea why he left, you're waiting for the right time to ask, for now your main concern is why your hands are tied.

“I know horses can't talk.” You roll your eyes, “I just wanted to introduce myself. I'm sure you're close to your horse, correct? You were always fond of animals.”

“His name is Buckeye.” Hobie says, with a slight kick and a click of his tongue, he holds the reins precisely, steering Buckeye towards the train station further out of town.

“Cute!” You exclaim despite the hunger, you're still happy that you found him. Or he was the one who found you. Hobie always has a knack for that it seems, whether you're hiding away or can't be bothered to be perceived by anyone but him, he always finds you. Always. “It's a cute name. Buckeye, fitting name for a horse that's as gorgeous as you, huh?” You lean down just in time for Buckeye to look back at you. He neighs like he understood you. “Yeah, you agree.” You giggle, the dark horse looks like he enjoys the attention.

Hobie is baffled by the whole interaction. “Stop cooing at my horse.”

“Why not? He seems to like it.” You touch his mane as best as you can with your hands still tied. “Right, Bucky?” The horse has an extra pep in his step with you figuring out his nickname. You continue to giggle, Hobie has no idea how Bucky warmed up to you so fast. “Where to, Hobs? Home?” You ask excitedly.

“Yes, your home.”

“Wait— What?!” You almost fell off with how fast you looked back at him.

—

All your questions were left unanswered, but you still think he's playing some sort of joke on you, a joke that is getting older with every tick of the giant clock that hangs above the railway station. A tumbleweed passes by on the train tracks, a warm breeze passes by the near empty train station. Hobie stands next to you, leaning on a pillar, eyes roaming around the barren place. He's far enough that you can't reach him and tell him all the words you wanted to say to him since he left. Yet, he's close enough that you can admire all the physical changes.

From the scruff of his growing beard, to the peeking scar around his neck—he looks like he grew up. The smoke from his cigarette curls upwards to the brim of his hat, parting ways down the middle like theater curtains that show his chiseled face. His jade eyes are as green as the grass at home, as green as the fields you used to run around with him. It reminds you of home, and at the same time, it reminds you of the years that went by without those green eyes by your side.

“You look really good.” You finally say something that isn't a question. Fingers playing with the gold band around your middle finger. “Seriously, what's your secret?” Your behind hurts from the hard wood of the bench. Travelers are sparse and far in between, you notice them staying away from you.

As predicted, he doesn't answer.

You copy his voice and demeanor just how you remembered it last. “Well, love, the secret is to bathe in cow's milk at least once a week. And to stay away from the sun.” You keep your smile despite the silence from your companion. “That's probably what you'd say.” He barely even looks at you. “Well, five years isn't that long,” you lie, it was an eternity without him. “I always thought you'd age well—”

“Five years is a long fuckin' time, Y/N.”

“Finally, a word from your mouth.” You reach towards him, impatiently showing him your tied hands. “Can you untie me now? I can't run from you, with my ankle still hurting and the fact that I'm starving and dehydrated, I won't be doing any running for a while.”

“You're starving?” There's a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

“Yes,” you almost exclaim. Hobie takes one step towards you, instead of untying your binds, he takes your bandana that hangs around your neck. You flinch in response, an act that has him questioning what happened to you in those five years he left.

Hobie kneels in front of you, more careful of any sudden movement, a vision of a younger him passes over your mind's eye. He lifts your skirt up, enough to show the wound on your ankle. Gloved hands wrap gingerly around your foot as he places it on top of his thigh.

“The bleedin' stopped,” not once has he looked in your eyes. While you stare at him affectionately, a soft smile on your tired lips. Hobie wraps your bandana around the wound, tying it with a knot that you're familiar with. You grin at the memory of him using it all the time. “There,” just as you thought, he taps your foot three times, a habit of his that you're fond of. Hobie realizes what he has done subconsciously, straightening up, he takes a wrapped biscuit from his pocket. Grabbing your hand, he places it unceremoniously on your palm like your skin burns him like a sinner to holy water. “Your people will be here any minute.”

“We've been waiting here for two hours. And who—? What people?”

“The people who want you back home.”

You almost drop the biscuit. “But I don't want to come home! I want to stay with you—!”

“Why are you really ‘ere, Y/N? Hmm? Great aunt not givin’ you enough allowance?” He flicks the cigarette butt away.

Your heart cracks, voice as small as a dormouse. “Why are you being like this?” Hobie inhales sharply. “I told you, I came to see you because of your letter where you wrote that you missed me and wanted to see me. I–I have so many of mine right here—” A train whistle rings out before Hobie could reply.

The smell of burning coal itches your nose, blackened smoke billowing out of the metal beast that creaks and shrieks on the steel tracks.

A small crowd exits the train once it fully stops. You notice Hobie standing closer to you, hand placed on the back of the bench. His eyes search for someone amidst the travelers while you take big bites of the dry biscuit, desperate to satiate the rumbling of your stomach. Damn all the etiquette lessons drilled into your brain, you're starving.

“Can I have some water?” You cough out, palm covering your mouth for some decency. “Hobie?” His head is on a swivel, eyes scanning the stranger's faces. You tug at his coat, he curses under his breath so you retract your hand quickly. “I'm sorry.” Your small voice startles him.

“What?” He looks down at you, your eyes are glued on your lap, palms up like you're waiting for punishment. His jaw tightens, knuckles shaking. What happened to you after he ran? “‘ere,” passing a canteen of water over to you, he places it on your open palms gingerly.

The cool metal of the canteen hits your skin, instead of stinging pain. “Thank you,” you take a drink, Hobie doesn't miss how your hands shake, almost spilling water all over yourself.

“Stop sayin' that.” He says it through a softer tone, “don't be so polite.” He's not trying to chastise you, but you don't know the difference.

“Sorry—I'll stop.” You close the lid to the canteen, giving it back to him without lifting your head up.

As the crowd thins, Hobie controls his breathing. It was better when you were looking at him, at least then he could see how happy you were.

“No one's here.” He finally says, the hands on his sides stretching, joints aching from the previous tightness of his knuckles.

“Because no one's looking.” You hope that was the case. Or at least it was just her looking for you, not him too.

“The reward on your head says otherwise.” Hobie wishes he didn't say everything that passes by his mind when you look at him like a heartbroken fawn. “C’mon.” He takes your arm, helping you stand up. He's ill equipped to handle emotions right now, especially if he can barely control his own.

“Where are we going?” You ask, shoes thumping across the floorboards.

“The post office, it's right around the corner.” Sure enough, the post office is connected to the railroad station. Convenient, you thought. Stopping next to Bucky on his post, he neighs at the sight of you. You smile at him, even though he can't possibly understand your expression. Hobie taps his saddle, subtly asking your permission to lift you up. You nod once, as if you could say no. With one strong lift, you're back on Bucky's saddle. “Right, stay ‘ere, scream if you're in trouble.”

“You're leaving me here?”

“No, I need to check my telegram. I can see you through the window, yeah?” He points at the foggy windows of the post office. “I'll be back in five.”

“What if someone comes?”

He's already halfway to the office. “Scream.”

An old woman with a cane and a trendy dress passes by, seeing your bound hands, she tosses Hobie a look of disapproval.

“It's fine, she's my wife and she likes to roleplay.” Once upon a time, he thought that he'd call you that for real. That was a different time. “Ain't that right, sweetheart?” He opens the door for the woman who looks at you for reassurance.

You give the stranger your best smile. “Yes, my love.” His finger twitches, breath hitching. “Don’t worry about me, ma’am, it's all good.”

The older woman scoffs, muttering a ‘the youth and their weird sex fantasies.’ She enters the office first while Hobie gives you an approving nod.

“The excuse wasn't even good.”

“It worked right?” With a smug smile on his lips, he enters the office while you settle on Bucky.

“Your rider's weird.” You whisper to his horse who huffs in response.

Hobie grabs a form on a table placed near the windows. He has the perfect view of you chatting with Bucky. A smile creeps up on him, to which he tamps down immediately. Writing all the necessary information, with a fake name and address of course, he gives it to the man at the counter who wordlessly reads it and searches in the back for any letters for him.

He watches you smile at his horse, desperately trying to remember how your laughter sounded. A real one where you would almost choke at your own spit because of a joke he told you. The smile curls around his lips once again.

An envelope slides out of the slot, his fake name, Larry Smith, is written in neat writing. He rips it open immediately, eyes skimming the contents. The words ‘change of plans’, ‘moved south’ that are followed by an address that he's familiar with in the southern area has him taking his hat off, hands rubbing along his hairline from how crappy the situation is. Judging by all the detail on the letter, it would take him weeks to get you there, months if something unsavory happens on the road. He has a feeling that something would happen based on the reward increase that's listed next to the address. From five thousand to six.

Your piercing scream rings all the alarm bells in his body, bolting straight away, he sees you try to fight off a couple of men that are quickly riding off with you. They're moving three ways from Sunday, their laughter fading out. Hobie's blood boils.

Buckeye neighs loudly, waking his rider up from his blind anger. Hobie unhitches the dark horse, long leg swinging over the saddle, boots immediately placed inside the stirrups, hands tightly curled around the reins. And off he goes, leaving the railroad station in the dust, galloping incredibly fast.

He hears you yell his name just before you were abruptly cut off by a cloth shoved in your mouth. “Y/N!” Desperately calling for you, anger rolls off him like an avalanche in the winter. Taking his pistol out, with one hand he aims. But with the speed and the jostling around, he can't aim straight—especially if there's a chance of him shooting you instead.

The phantom pain around his neck aches.

Adrenaline rushes through him, he sees reason, aiming at the other man that isn't holding you. With a click, and a squeeze of the trigger—he shoots. The bullet whizzes by with a piercing sound, hitting the man's shoulder, turning his insides out, spraying warm crimson everywhere. The pained yell he let out would haunt your dreams. Moreso of the sorrow filled scream his companion let out.

With a thud, the limp body falls, his own horse running him over. You shut your eyes, mind crawling back to the one place you were happy staying forever in, Hobie's tiny flat back home. Back when afternoon tea consists of him rambling about some new invention he thought of, back when his hands would roam over your skin softly. Back when you held him close to you as he whispered promises in your ears.

Now it's all rough leather against your hand, jade eyes avoiding your own, mouth permanently etched into a frown. You know him, deep down the Hobie who would press feather light kisses on your lips is still in him. That deep down he has built a façade to survive this lawless land, and it's hard for him to break that carefully made façade in one day. You'd find his softness again, but you have to survive this first.

The horse you've been thrown on has finally stopped running. Your chest hurts from all the jostling, you were placed stomach first on the saddle—where the jagged leather uncomfortably rubbed against you and the spine of the horse hit you over and over again. The strange man yanks you away, now you're completely standing up with a gun pressing on your temple. A cry inches up to your throat, the cloth in your mouth chokes you. The man smells of cow shit and iron.

You watch as Bucky halts to a stop, dust flying around like the fireflies back home. The hat on Hobie's head hides the anger in his eyes, trigger finger itching to shoot again.

You cry, his name muffled by the cloth. You didn't mean to cry, but everything hurts. The warm barrel of the gun digs into your skull, whilst your hands grip the stranger's arm, your nails hopelessly trying to claw him away from you. The stranger smells like death.

“You killed my brother!” The man screams in your ears, breath rancid, warm air tickling your cheek. Amidst the loud rushing of your blood in your ears, you hear hurried footsteps behind you. They sound like there could be dozens of them, all pointing their guns at the man you loved. Still love, even now.

Hobie doesn't get off his horse. He sits still, frozen like a bronze statue. The only indication of him being alive was his labored breathing.

“What's happenin’?” A gruff voice asks from behind, thick southern drawl making him stand out from the rest of the gang. “Who's this, Jacky?”

“The broad, the broad from the telegram. Henry and I recognized her, thought we'd be rich. We saw her first!” Jacky acts like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Where's Henry then?” The older sounding man asks.

“With a bullet in him,” Hobie's voice is calm, cold and calculating, none of the warmth you were used to. “He's laying in a pool of his own blood a few ways from ‘ere. I bet the coyotes have him now.”

“You fucker!” Jacky presses the gun closer, you cry out in pain. Hobie's hand twitches. “I'll fucking shoot her! I swear I'd shoot!”

“Do you think that's worth it? Getting her blood all over your nice camp?” Hobie's unfeeling tone makes you weep harder. “Killin’ your mark? My mark?” He speaks commandingly, teeth gritted.

You look up to the heavens, blue sky engulfing your vision. A part of you wants to go home, a part that regrets running away in the first place. But there's a bigger part of you that's glad that you saw him again, even though you face your imminent death. It was worth it, you suppose. At least now your heart can rest after seeing him alive. You close your eyes when the pistol next to your head clicks.

“You talk big, a life for a life then.” A tear slides down your cheek. Hobie aims for your captor's head.

“Wait a damn minute!” You hear footsteps come from behind, the older man steps between them. “I know I remember ya from somewhere.” He tips his hat at Hobie, just in time for you to see him stare at you back intensely. “Yeah, I know ya. You're the one who took out Culver's men in one night, ain't ya? Thirty fuckin’ men all dead in one night.” Gasps are heard from the dozen or so people from behind. You hear whispers of the name ‘spider of the west’ behind you. “Christ, you're him.” With his hands right next to his head in surrender, he looks over his shoulder over to you, you see fear in the old man's eyes. “Let the little miss go, Jacky.”

“An eye for an eye, Arthur—!” Jacky pleads.

“Let her go or I'll be the one putting a bullet to your head, boy!” His scream has you flinching.

Jacky reluctantly lets you go, you almost crumple to your feet but you still stand, not wanting to give them the satisfaction. Your hands tremble as you take out the musty cloth inside your mouth.

Arthur walks over to you, hand ghosting over your back. “‘m sorry about that, sweetheart.”

You walk with your head held high. “Don't say sorry.” Your tear filled eyes flick over to the bearded man. “You’re not the one who hurt me.”

“Still, I'd like to say sorry on behalf of my belligerent men.” He looks up at Hobie who's still sitting on his horse passively. But the older man seems to know the deadly storm brewing behind those emerald eyes. “I apologize for the…miscommunication. If my men knew who you were, they wouldn't have tried anythin'. Jacky and his brother are too big for their breeches. ”

“The next time I see any of you on the road, I won't hesitate.” Hobie says, eyes bright, burning like greek fire.

“As is your right. You take care now.”

You silently lift yourself up on Bucky, with the help from Hobie, hand sliding away the moment you successfully tug yourself up behind him. Hobie doesn't see how vacant your stare is. You refuse to hold on to him, you're afraid of what he did, not of him. He thinks it's the other way around, it's his worst nightmare.

As you both gallop away, the last thing you heard above the hoofbeats is the unmistakable sound of a gun going off.

—

You're getting further and further away from the town you were in. The sun sets next to you as you look at the blood caked under your nails. You no longer shake or cry, just numb.

Buckeye passes by a lone graveyard, metal fences jagged and angled awkwardly. The dilapidated chapel cracks and falls under its own weight. Crows have made a home on the old tombstones, their cawing and beady black eyes raise the skin on your arms. The names of the dead are barely readable on the tombstones—rotten pots of flowers lay on the bed of graveyard soil, black petals going back to where they came from. You look away, afraid that if you don't, you'd see yourself among them.

The large rock formations loom overhead, jagged lines curved and sculpted by time. The holes dotted along its large walls act like a thousand eyes watching over you. Beady limestone eyes twitching, bleading, and crying. The sun fades away behind the horizon, cold replacing warmth, shadows replacing light.

Everything aches, your legs are still shaking from the encounter, the rustling tumbleweeds makes you jump. Eyes frantic, breath quickening, hands going numb—mind reeling back to the bloodied dead man.

“Stop.” You say too quietly. “Stop the fucking horse!”

Hobie reigns in Bucky, halting to a stop. You slid off ungracefully, knee hitting the ground as you scramble away. Bile rises in your throat, acid expelled out of your mouth because of your near empty stomach.

Familiar footsteps walk behind you, you wait for him to close the distance, to hold you close like he has always done five years ago. Yet, he stays far, stopping just a few feet away from your trembling body.

With shaky legs, you stand up, back still facing him. You wipe your mouth clean with your sleeve, Hobie's hand twitches for the handkerchief inside his pocket. He doesn't give it to you. He doesn't know why he didn't. Sniffing, you cough, eyes still stinging.

“Did they hit your head?” He finally says something, his words echoing in the vast empty space.

“No, I'm fine.” You pass by him, hands braced on Bucky's side.

“Y/N—”

You whirl around, “I said I'm fucking fine!” Heaving, chest aching, you rub your tired eyes. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, okay? Can we go?”

“We'll camp ‘ere.” With Hobie's statement, you look back at where you came from. Your captor's camp is miles away from you now, but you swear you can still feel the barrel of his gun digging into your skull, and the rotten smell of his mouth. “They won't follow us.”

“He knew you,” your eyes don't shine with the same optimism he was greeted with. “He looked scared when he remembered you. Hobie, W–what did you do to get him to fear you like that?”

“A lot of things you shouldn't worry about.” He walks past you, grabbing his pack from the saddle. “The less you know, the better.”

You nod, tears brimming in your eyes. He's not the old Hobie you remembered. He would've told you, he used to tell you everything. The gold ring in your finger feels heavy. And all the unsent letters you've hidden inside your skirt feels empty, the flowery words you've written inside are unrequited.

As day fades away to night, the moon shines bright as the stars twinkle above you. The warmth of the open fire settles into your fatigued bones, the pads of your fingers slowly regains feeling. The air is crisp, breeze blowing your lashes, cooling down the hot can of beans in front of you. The scene in front of you reminded you of the time you used to sneak out into the woods to meet with Hobie. He'd light a small fire and huddle close to you while you point out constellations. The beans are new, you wish they were bread instead, like the ones you used to nick from the kitchen.

This time, he sits across from you, far away from you as the fire cackles in between you both. The flames dance in his green eyes, a beautiful sight that you love—yet, you can't help but stay away from it.

“Cold?” He asks, hands properly warmed up from the hot can.

“No,” you answer flatly, legs tucked into you, chin placed atop your knees while you watch the embers flicker away into the dark. The cold helps, it helps numb you down.

“Alright.”

In another time he would've offered his coat, not just the shabby itchy blanket thrown over your shoulders. It all seems like a lifetime ago now.

You have no idea what caused him to leave without a goodbye, whether it was you or your unfeeling family, or for a pursuit of something better—but you know in those five years he has changed, you know he's still the Hobie you love, but you can barely recognize his heart anymore. You came to the new world for a new life with him, away from your predetermined life, because through and through you still love him. The promises he once whispered into your skin repeats in your head like a broken record. It's what's keeping you warm, sane, and in the present.

He eats silently, while you wallow into yourself. You've braved the ocean to see him, rode a dozen trains to get close to him, lost so much and gained so little just to see him alive. Was it all worth it? Worth all the calluses on your feet from all the walking? Worth all the tears you shed just to realize that maybe he doesn't love you anymore? That he fell out of love in those five grueling years?

Does he know that you still love him?

The man sitting across from you is a stranger. Not the one you promised your heart to.

“Hobie?” You call for him, heavy eyes staying on the ashes in front of you.

“Hmm?” He hums, barely audible for you. You silently wish that you don't get used to all his halfhearted replies. You need to hold on to a part of him from five years ago or you'll go crazy and run off into the barren lands of the west.

Against better judgment, against the screaming voice in your head, you finally look at him right in his eyes. “Why'd you leave?”

He quietly sighs, “I had to.” Those green eyes you love so much swirl with unsung emotion that you're not privy to. “Why'd you run away from home?”

“I had to.”

Hobie nods once.

You take your dinner in your cold hands, biting down the bitterness and the feeling. With an inhale, you smile through the pain of your realization. It's better not to dwell on it, or you might lose yourself. Instead, you take the opportunity to live in the moment with him—Relish your time with Hobie or whatever time you have left with him on the journey home.

[yanderes-galore]

Hiii I’m the person who requested the yandere catnap where the reader try’s to escape but the mini smiling critters dragged them back before the can make it to the lift .

Sure, I think I remember this! This is dubious on if this is my version of Catnap or the one closer to canon. You can see it either way. I don't really go into depth on how you met, this is a chase scene essentially.

Playtime Isn't Over

Yandere! CatNap Oneshot (FT. Mini Critters)

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Blood, Stalking, Chase scene, Gassing/Drugging, Minor violence, Forced companionship.

Tons of tiny white eyes follow your form in the darkness. They know they shouldn't touch you, however. It's obvious you belong to their boss, CatNap. Touching you meant death.

The only thing you could hear in the halls of the Playhouse were giggles and squeals. They weren't from any human, you know better. The Playhouse was part of CatNap's domain. Your new prison.

The tiny critters were merely meant to watch over you like wardens.

They were guards, lesser creatures meant to make sure CatNap's new toy stayed in place. They stalked you from the darkness as your roamed the padded maze that is the Playhouse. Who knows where the exit was.

Wherever it was... you were determined to find it.

Skittering and squeaks echo in your ears as the small creatures scurry about. It was like they were rats, scavenging in order to survive. It was a tough life in these walls... which is why you're so determined to get out.

You assumed they wouldn't attack unless you left a certain radius. So far, the creatures only stared at you with slight curiosity and suspicion. You thought they'd leave you alone completely until you stepped on a weak floorboard.

When you crashed through the floor, the critters began to move closer.

Considering how they were now active, you assumed you had gotten close. The scurrying gets louder and the squeaks and squeals increase. You quickly dust yourself off and run through the halls.

It was clear that they knew of your escape attempts, the small plushies darting towards you. Some even manage to latch onto your legs before you shake them off and keep running. Both you and them are desperate.

Both you and them seem desperate to live and avoid CatNap... just in different ways.

You grunt as you shake off critters left and right. You desperately crawl through tunnels as you run, looking for any sort of exit. You just want out. You're terrified of CatNap's plans for you.

Your eyes light up when you see something that looks like a lift. There's a gap but you feel like you can make the leap. You grin, finally happy to leave this place.

Only for the critters to clamber onto your legs, knocking you down onto the padded ground.

You hiss when your body collides with the floor. The ruined living plushies squeak and hiss as they crawl over you. You fear they'll take you as food.

You try to shake the tiny feral beasts off you, but each time you tossed one another would take its place. You were stuck and pinned. You were just waiting for them to dig into your skin.

They didn't.

Instead you saw something come lurking from the shadows... something large.

"You're trying to leave, aren't you?"

The voice is deep and scratchy, making your blood run ice cold. You see the silhouette come closer, only to realize it's CatNap. The best has woken up from all the ruckus, only to stare at you covered in the smaller critters.

"You're quite clever... but not clever enough, my kitten." The large beast hisses, glaring at you with glowing white pupils. "If only you had a light, yeah? They hate the light...."

CatNap steps closer and the smaller critters scurry off into the shadows. CatNap then sits in front of you, tail slithering over to you to restrain you like a snake. The beast tilts his head, looking you over thoughtfully as you struggle.

"Such a troublemaker..." The monster sighs, watching as you glare back. "Troublemakers should be put to sleep."

"W-Wait, no, please-!" You try to bargain, but the cruel cat doesn't listen. Instead he leans closer with a permanent Cheshire grin and breathes out. A red mist flows out of his mouth, the scent smelling of lavender and flowers.

You hold your breath but CatNap restricts you with his tail. The tightness makes you gasp, the sudden breath just enough to make you quiver and faint. It's only when you pass out fully that CatNap lets you go.

Like a parent cat to their kitten, the beast picks you up by the back of your clothes and carries you in his mouth. The beast then makes a sound similar to that of a chuckle before dragging you back into the depths. You seemed to be getting better at these escape attempts.

But in the end, you'll always fall before CatNap...

You'll never leave Playcare under his watchful eye.

[thescarletwitchsapprentice]

I Am Your Destiny (Yandere!Rio Vidal x female!reader)

Summary: You had recently gotten engaged and you couldn’t be happier. But someone you’re close with has taken it upon herself to ensure that that will never come to pass, that you are hers and hers alone….

Prompts taken from the Yandere Writing List by @yandere-daze

67. " Nothing can separate us now."

38. "Only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours."

(CW: Kidnapping, forced kiss, potential murder implications, (kinda up to interpretation) restraint, (just on the ankle) possible drugging)

Author’s Note: I actually managed to get one of my ideas out of my head and into a story, holy shit!

Reader is, of course, 18+.

Your eyes shoot open as a soft breeze brushes against you.

“Where the hell am I?” you whisper fearfully as your eyes dart around. It looks like a clearing in the moonlight surrounded by a thick forest, but….it feels unnatural. 

The last thing you remember is preparing your wedding invitations. Your partner of seven years had proposed to you and you’d been nose-deep in preparations despite the date being far off. But there’s bigger fish to fry.

Your heart pounds, your breathing quickens; is this a kidnapping? You try to stand up, but something’s keeping you down on your knees. Looking behind you, you see a rope of green light surrounding your ankle, the other end tied to a tree. This escape clearly isn’t going to be easy.

Suddenly you hear a familiar chuckle from the forest.

“Finally, you’re awake, my love.”

Your blood freezes as a shadow slowly strides out of the forest, unveiling their identity; dressed in a black off-shoulder gown with a crown on her head, her dark hair flowing in the light breeze.

“R-Rio?!” you gasp out.

Hearing this, her smile grows.

“Ah, my little bird….how I love hearing you say my name.”

She glides closer until she’s hovering above you, like a hawk hovering over its prey. 

“What’s going on?” you choke out.

She doesn’t answer, instead slowly kneeling down in front of you. 

“What’s going on?” she repeats before shrugging. “Nothing much, just…..claiming what’s mine.”

The drop on her volume at the end sends chills through you. 

“Wh…what are you talking about?” you gasp out.

Rio coos in response. “Oh darling….don’t tell me you’re really this clueless.” Reaching out, she slowly tucks a bit of hair behind your ear. “It’s so obvious; you and I are meant to be together.”

Upon hearing this, you have to do a double-take. No….there’s no way you heard that right; Rio’s your best friend, the first one you told about your partner’s proposal, the one you told all your secrets to. Of course you know she’s Death, that she’s the original Green Witch, but you never considered her as anything more than your best friend. 

“Rio, don’t talk nonsense,” you chuckle nervously, praying that this is just a joke, just a terrifying joke.

“….Who said it’s nonsense?” Her face betrays no sign of deception, that just makes you feel even more horrified. “What’s nonsense is believing that you’re not meant to be mine, by my side for all eternity.”

“Okay, that’s enough, Rio,” you pant. “Just…..cut the bullshit and let me go.”

Hearing this, her eyes harden. 

“Let you go?” Her tone drops as she leans in close, her face only a few inches from yours. “Do you think I’d be insane enough to do that? When I have what I want here and now? Don’t make me laugh. Besides I’ve waited long enough for this moment, and when things arose, I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Once again, you try to stand up, but within a millisecond, you’re back on the ground. 

“Don’t even bother, it’s cosmic-grade magic,” she huffs. “I can’t have you running off; besides, you wouldn’t even know the way out.”

A lump forms in your throat as you remember just how powerful Rio actually in.

“Why are you here?”

She doesn’t answer for a hot second. “Well….it’s pretty simple; I want to ensure this destiny is fulfilled, and one way to do that is soul-binding.”

“Soul….binding?” you gasp out.

“Soul-binding,” she repeats. “A ritual that connects the souls of two people to the point where the mere thought of being separate from them gives one a sense of absolute dread. It is a bond that nothing is able to sever.”

Gently she cups your cheek, brushing her thumb against it in a slow circular motion.

“Once the ritual is performed, our souls will become one. We’ll sense each other’s thoughts…feelings…desires…we’ll develop a deep desire to be with each other, a desire that will grow into a compulsion. We’ll sense each other’s wants and needs, we’ll be able to communicate telepathically, among many, many benefits; best of all…”

She slowly cups both sides of your face with one hand.

“….Our life forces will be connected,” she whispers. 

Your blood goes beyond frozen; Rio, being Death herself, cannot die. If you become connected to her…..

“Rio, you’re insane!”

She just grins and nods.

“Insanely in love, in particular.”

“This isn’t love, it’s obsession!”

Rio merely chuckles. “I see them as one and the same. Anyway, let’s not waste anymore time. Our souls will soon be one.”

You’re in the biggest panic of your life.

“Rio, you can’t do this; you know about the proposal!”

Upon hearing this, Rio gives a bitter chuckle. “Of course I know…..why do you think I’m doing this now? They don’t deserve you. They’re not your destiny; I am.”

“But…..they’re gonna wonder where I am!” you stammer.

She sighs. “Oh, my love…..you’re truly so naive. Did you think I wouldn’t be prepared for that? I’ve already taken care of the problem.”

All of your trembling that you’re trying to hide freezes at that moment. “….what did you do to them?” you gasp.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about, my little bird,” she says. “Enough diversions; it’s time to bind.”

In an attempt to avoid the ritual, you turn away, but Rio grabs your head and yanks it back to face her.

“There’s no use fighting it, my love,” she purrs. “This is what’s meant to be.”

“If you do this to me, I’ll hate you forever!” you snap.

However Rio just laughs. “Oh, I beg to differ, my love. Once the ritual is complete, you’ll be so enamored that you’ll only look at me with these pretty eyes of yours. I guarantee it.

Keeping her hands on both sides of your face, she leans forward and locks her lips onto yours. You try to pull away, but Rio’s grip on you is too strong. Her lips give off the taste of mint, one that’s almost….alluring….

You begin to feel your mind fog up and your muscles begin to loosen. But you know you need to get away…..right? The mint taste and scent is beginning to overtake you; at the same time, you feel a strange sensation enter your body, which brings back your alertness slightly. You sense yourself torn between the need to break out and the desire to succumb. However the more you’re exposed to this delicate but intoxicating aroma, the more you lean towards the latter. The strange sensation strengthens, but it’s strange in a euphoric way. Even as that little voice in the back of your mind tries to bring you back, the euphoria and mint both nearly have you. The voice is slowly fading away….until all there is is the euphoria and mint.

You reach up and grab Rio’s face, burying yourself deeper into the kiss. A deep primal desire awakens in you, a desire to be closer than humanly possible; and the more you two kiss, the stronger the euphoria becomes until it’s one of the only things on your mind.

After some time, Rio slowly pulls her lips away from you before giving a chuckle. The two of you lock eyes and you feel as though everything else has faded. As far as you’re concerned, nothing exists but your beloved Rio….

“There…. Nothing can separate us now,” she whispers. 

Reaching over, she places her hand just above your chest, the touch making you feel…whole.

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” she chuckles. “Our souls are now one, bound together eternally.”

You focus, and sure enough, you feel as though your souls have practically merged into one, and you love it. It just feels…..right. Seeing this, Rio releases the bind on your ankle and brings you in close. Her warmth immediately puts you at peace as your head settles on her chest. 

As you settle in, Rio whispers in your ear, her warmth breath caressing your ear. “You’re safe with me, my love. I’ll protect you, cherish you, treasure you as the precious gem you are. You will want for nothing. All you have to do is stay with me….can you do that for me?”

Without hesitating you nod, an enamored smile forming on your face, and Rio chuckles.

“That’s it. You’ll stay with me like the good girl you are. You don’t need anyone else. I am all you need…..”

As her warmth encompasses you, you feel your eyes begin to flutter shut, the echoing sounds of the waterfall, along with the rise and fall of Rio’s chest, lulling you into a peaceful slumber. Nothing can make this more perfect for you. You know you’re exactly where you need to be, where you want to be. You simply can’t imagine being anywhere else, except with your beloved Rio. And just before you drift off, you hear her whisper into your ear.

“I am your destiny….”

[glader13]

Saudade pt. 2

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Bi-Han’s mind was in a haze, he felt unfocused in everything. It could’ve been because of the war, Tsung’s plans and army were making incredible gains, an act of true power. He envies it. Or maybe, the haze was due to Liu Kang’s foolishness, tainting Lin Kuei’s honor by making his clan, and him, nothing more than thugs for his schemes.

“Brother,” Kuai Liang’s voice broke Bi-Han’s thoughts, “You’ve been staring at this map for minutes without a word. Do you not have a plan?”

“I’m thinking,” was all he said, still feeling his mind slip to something else.

“About the plan or something else?” His brother pressed, causing Bi-Han’s annoyance to rise, who does he think he’s questioning?

“About things that don't concern you,” Bi-Han began, “And you forget yourself, questioning your grandmaster.”

“As your brother, I am worried,” he didn’t back down from Bi-Han’s icy glare, “For the past couple of weeks, ever since you returned home from that mission, you’ve been distracted. You won’t even tell us where you were for the night.”

That’s why he’s been in a haze, still smelling your perfume in his nose from that night. He can’t shake you from his mind, that night revealing the ache for you has never left him. He walked out of the room, and even the temple feeling frustrated at himself. Why didn’t he say more? Why did he say those things that caused you to leave? He treated you and called you a responsibility. He should’ve treated you like his wife, as his equal. You have never treated him in such a way, even when you were in the same situation as him. Doing familial responsibilities, but somewhere in the responsibility came love, and he didn’t know how to handle it, how to handle your emotions for him, and his emotions for you.

It became obvious that you were too kind, too sweet, too perfect for him. He had to let you go so he wouldn’t hurt you. But he misses you terribly. Bi-Han walked without a direction in mind, or so he thought. He found himself in front of your home, looking at your window, thinking back to how you were his sanctuary, a place where he could always clear his head. He climbed up your window, peeking into your room, surprised to see that you weren’t there. He then walked to another place where he suspected of you being. He peeked through the window of the medical center, watching you care for patients with a smile. You were so kind to him, and despite the sweet sensation that it gave him, it made him scared. It made him realize his emotional inadequacies. That night, he couldn't get it out of his head, it was consuming, always in the back of his mind. Despite his abilities, he was the one burning, being consumed by the fever, by the fire that is you.

He wants to put those moments past him, you behind him. He knows that he should, but he can't. He wants to hold you, to apologize. He never meant to hurt you, he just wanted to protect you. He let out a sigh of frustration, hating himself for his lack of courage. He couldn’t talk to you, at least not now.

As you sat in your medical room, your mind instantly went to the days you spent there with Bi-Han’s mother as she taught you everything you needed to know about being the grandmaster’s wife. Of course, not all the days were spent in there, when she was feeling strong, you would have your lessons in the garden, and the sign of her sickness would be nonexistent in the sunlight.

But there would be days when she would teach you from her bed, her voice was soft and quiet. You remember one day when she had fallen asleep leaving you to read up on Lin Kuei's history. But there was a point when the words were just words and every date seemed the same, spilling into each other. You eventually gave up on studying, letting out a sigh as you rested the book on your leg. You placed yourself on the floor, staring at the light’s shadows dance on the walls and ceiling.

You began to drift away, your eyes getting heavier. Instead of Lin Kuei, you thought of Bi-Han, seeing his dark eyes behind your eyelids. You could’ve sworn that you felt his hands sneak across your body, the recent nights together giving your mind the fire for moments like this. Your face warmed as a smile graced your lips, thinking of his voice and the sweet words that he would whisper.

“Studying hard?” You saw him kneeling by your head.

You nodded, causing him to quietly laugh, as he kissed your lips, before lying down next to you. He wrapped you in his arms, your face hiding in his body, being overwhelmed by the closeness of him. You kissed his neck, before tracing his jaw, then kissing his lips.

“Has she been asleep for long?”

“Maybe for forty minutes,” you say, “We were going over some more responsibilities, but we took a break, and then I read up on some history, but,” you smiled, “It didn’t stick.”

“Oh really?” He smiled, “Why not?”

“Reading is nice, but I need a tutor,” you murmured against his lips, “Maybe, some private lessons.”

“Straighten out some history for you?” You felt his lips curl into a smirk, causing your body to feel a spark.

“Then I can test her when you’re done,” her voice caused the two of you to push each other away, as Bi-Han’s face turned red.

“You were awake?” You found it kind of cute, how his voice was slightly shaky, even though you refused to meet his mother’s face.

“A mother hears everything,” she smiled.

How you wish that you could go back to those days when everything seemed perfect. Bi-Han was so happy, and you have never felt such love. You felt your heart twist with pain, thinking of the private moments when you would hide in medical books, trying to find something to help his mother, secretly working with her doctors. When she died, she took a part of Bi-Han with her, something that you tried to foolishly replace. But nothing can replace a mother’s love.

You remember the day she died completely, you were alone with her at the temple, still studying your responsibilities. She was quiet that day, barely opening her eyes and when she did, you wanted to look away, feeling something in your stomach akin to hopelessness. She seemed to be in transition, her eyes focused on something higher, outside of the world that you were in. The longer you were in there with her, your mind cared less about responsibilities, you just wanted Bi-Han to be there.

You remember the last words that she spoke to you as she held your hand, “No matter what, he loves you. Care for him, please.” But you didn’t care for him, you left him. He made it so easy to leave.

You left early that day, seeing that your parents needed you home. As you walked, you thought of how it’s been weeks since you had last seen him, and you were running out of hope that you’d ever see him again, thinking back to the past nights and how you stayed up in bed, with your best night garments, waiting for him. You were aching for him, and one night with him seemingly ignited a fire that you thought was gone. In your haste, you didn’t see him lingering near the medical center. But he noticed you, though he let you walk by, too stuck to talk to you.

You were rushed by servants as soon as you entered the estate. Your parents still didn’t mention why they needed you, all they mentioned was that a guest was coming over. You were immediately driven to your bathing room, bathing in the rose-scented water and soap. The servants then adorned you in beautiful gold jewelry that matched your red qipao dress trimmed in gold that had a slit on the side.

You felt sick at the sight in the mirror, realizing your parents’ intentions. Suddenly, you felt the longing from that night put you in a chokehold, chaining your heart. Once the servants left, you went to your jewelry box, taking out the pendant and the ring. You held them against your chest, looking at the spot where he slept next to you. Why were you clinging to him still, why were you holding your breath on a miracle? You moved towards your bed, sitting on the side where he slept, in your hands you once again inspected the ring and the pendant, wondering why you were still holding onto a man who so easily let you go, who so easily fell out of love? A knock on your bedroom door took you out of your thoughts before you could answer your question, your guest had arrived.

He sat across from you during the dinner, his eyes were soft, matching his smile. Everything about him was soft, from the way his lips graced your hand to how his eyes would lock with yours, making you feel so guilty. You wonder who he is seeing when he looks into your eyes, does he see himself or does he see Bi-Han? He’s an up-and-coming politician, and you have heard of him, and agreeing with his ideology and ideas.

He’s perfect, well, he would be perfect.

You engaged with him in conversation, not failing to notice your parents’ reaction, you could feel their eyes mentally taking notes, and you wanted nothing more than to leave. He offered you a more intimate setting, away from your parents. It was a boat ride, the lake was lit up by water lanterns, washing his face in warm hues of gold. But as you listened to him, you felt yourself slipping, going back to when you rode this with Bi-Han.

It was early in your relationship with him, and he wasn’t quite as talkative, but him being there was enough. He held you the entire time, making up for his lack of talking. He even made you a flower from ice that night, making it even more impossible to leave him. Such a small gesture captured your heart. When you look at the man in front of you, you realize that you weren’t looking at him, for him, you were searching for Bi-Han. Chasing a love that won’t come back to you, and that saddened you. But as the two of you set the lantern in the water, you felt yourself wishing for Bi-Han.

You returned home late, going straight to your room. Your mind was a mess of thoughts, and you needed to sleep. Torn between wanting to fix the past and not having your past destroy your future. You need to let him go, just as he did with you.

“You were out late,” you stopped in your doorway hearing his voice, “Why?”

“Bi-Han,” you said, feeling thrilled that he was there, “But why do you have to know? You haven’t spoken to me in weeks since you’ve been hurt. You haven’t spoken to me since our engagement ended,” you said the last part quietly.

“I … I know,” he didn’t look at you. He felt his mouth open wanting to say the two words, but they were stuck, so he said, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you smiled sitting next to him, your smile grew even more when he didn’t move away, “I went on a date, my parents arranged it.”

You studied his face, waiting for a reaction. But he had none, just a slight furrow on his face. You could have been imagining it, but you felt the room get a little bit colder. “Does he treat you well?”

“I only met him today,” you said, “So I don’t know, but I don’t want to talk about him. Why are you here, are you hurt again?”

“No, I was just checking in on you,” he said, “I wanted to thank you for your help.”

“No need for that,” you said, then took his arm, “It healed up nicely.”

“Only because of your hands,” Bi-Han said, his eyes drawn to your hands, how they were still holding his arm. Unbeknownst to you, your touch was a heavenly fire, keeping him alive. He has never felt such peace when you hold him.

“How have you been?” He asked, feeling himself cross a line that he swore to never do again.

“I’ve been good,” you began, letting go of his arm, “But better now.”

He nodded, moving his arm back so you could sit closer to him and you did. As you explained how you had just been in the medical center working, he felt himself thinking of your words: better now. Better now because of him, or because of the man who is courting you? He knew that you wouldn’t be single forever, that you would move on, but he still felt hurt. Suddenly, he’s in love but you’re not. Seeing your beautiful face, realizing that your soft smiles weren’t for him felt like a stab in his soul.

But as he told you about himself and the war with Tsung, he couldn’t help but open up, feeling as if he was put under a spell. He made a mistake, and it’s more clear than ever. But as he talked, looking into your eyes, he felt resolve grow in him, he won’t let any of those threats come towards you. If he can’t have you, at least he can protect you.

The conversation then changed, you asked Bi-Han if he had anyone special, and he shook his head. The answer made your heart skip a beat, filling your head with fantasies, what if he loves me still? It grew even more comfortable between the two of you as you drifted between conversations of the politics of the and between realms, to even the simplest of things such as trying to convince him that he was hungry, because who knows how long he was waiting for you? You felt yourself growing cautiously happy, watching him eat the dinner’s leftovers as you prepared for bed. Things felt normal, and it felt as if you were at home, at the Lin Kuei temple.

It seemed as if you were going to bed with your husband.

“Taking off your clothes?” You teased, “You’re just going to take control of my room like that?”

He looked at you, smirking softly. He seemed to be doing things differently, taking off each garment slowly, starting with untying the bands around his arms. You felt your face burn, but you played it off by rolling your eyes, which caused him to laugh. When the two of you did make it into your bed, the two of you didn’t sleep. Conversation about anything spilled out from your mouths, including how much you hated your friends’ updates on their lives which you were pretty sure was just to put everyone around them down. Bi-Han assured you that you were perfect, that their lives were nothing compared to yours.

And when you woke up that morning, he was there. You were up first for some reason, early sunlight shining through the room. You looked over to see Bi-Han sleeping next to you, his hair falling over his face. But what caused you to hold your breath was that his arm was draped over you. You thought that you were dreaming, but everything, the heaviness of his arm, told you that it was real. You closed your eyes, trying to make the moment last a little bit longer, a small smile on your face.

A/N: I just graduated from university, so I am super sorry for taking forever to post the second part, but there is more to come.

- @sunsethw4 @cwbylikeyou @heartsia @neadivana, hope you all enjoyed it, and sorry it took forever 😭😭

[babyangelsky]

Back in March when I was doing the BL Challenge (brought to us by the lovely @negrowhat), I mentioned in my post about Korn Theerapanyakul that it isn't often that we get an actual villain who isn't just a love rival in a BL. The presence of an antagonist in a story doesn't necessarily make them the villain and not every story calls for one either. That being said,

Jak is a villain.

I want to break down this shot because it tells us a lot about the dynamic at play and Jak's point of view.

There's a lot going on here. The first thing my eye is drawn to is the line between them (and how Mut is just slightly crossing it since he stepped into the lion's den). Once you see that, the differences between both sides of that line become more obvious.

Mahasamut is dressed in a dark cool color and he's in shadow but his face is catching the light. The flowers, fireplace, candles, and TV behind him feel warm and homey. Fitting for a cafe. On the other hand, Jak is dressed in a warm light color and he's sitting in the light but his face is in shadow. The windows behind him and his positioning makes it feel like he's sitting at a desk in a corner office in a high rise instead of a cafe.

I weirdly wish they'd shown us when they arrived at the table because I would bet you anything that Jak sat down first. He's the older one, he's relaxed, etc. It makes sense for him to have sat first which means he chose that specific seat and the only reason I mention it, and really the only reason it matters, is that it tells us how Jak sees himself in this situation.

He's sitting there in the light in his dad sweater telling Mahasamut about wanting to fulfill his role as Tongrak's father and that he's so sorry about his behavior in the past and wants to atone for it and it's all bullshit because look at this man's face.

It is completely shadowed, just like his intentions and his agenda whereas Mut's is completely in the light.

And the difference becomes even more stark once Jak tells Mut to break up with Tongrak.

Jak is spewing nothing but ill-intentioned bullshit and Mahasamut sees it for what it is and makes it clear that he isn't going to fall for it, which is why things devolve.

Now. Just so we can get it out of the way, yes, obviously Mut should not have agreed to that meeting. He shouldn't have engaged and should've put the baby in the car and driven in the opposite direction. I was screaming at my screen for him to do just that, as were many of us I'm sure. However, I have to point out that it is not inconsistent for him from a character writing standpoint to have agreed.

Lest we forget, he said this to Tongrak last week when he was explaining why he turned Prin down when she tried to buy him.

"But Leah the dad is so much worse how could he not see—!" I know. Trust me, I do.

I'm gonna put on my baseball uniform and go to bat for my man for a second though because I think part of the reason that he agreed to talk to Jak is that he vastly underestimated him. And to be completely fair to Mahasamut, I did, too.

If I had to guess, I would say that he was expecting to be dealing with someone cut from the same cloth as Prin. Maybe a little worse since he knows what Jak has done in the past but certainly nothing he couldn't handle. Mahasamut is not a reckless or a thoughtless man. I don't believe for a second he would've even walked in the building if he didn't feel confident that he could deal with Jak.

The problem is that Jak is very much not cut from the same cloth as Prin.

I noted in my expressions post that it looked like the only time Jak was actually feeling something was when he accepted Prin's offer to destroy Tongrak but that's not entirely accurate. Having gone back to watch his scenes, there's a second instance where genuine emotion peeks through.

There's such a cold rage in his expression when he reproaches Tongrak for choosing his mother and cutting ties with him. And make no mistake, he's not angry because he loves his son. We already know that he doesn't. He's angry because in his eyes, he lost to a woman he felt nothing but disdain for.

If Tongrak and Kwan had chosen Jak over their mother, do you think Jak would be out here causing problems? No, he would've flat out ignored them. He wouldn't bother keeping such close tabs on Rak and his relationships because he would've already won and if he's doing it now, it's because he wants to win.

This is a game to him. This is fun for him.

His son is terrified and begging him not to hurt an innocent little girl and a young man and Jak's response is, "Don't be greedy."

He tries to force his son to choose which one of the people he loves most in this world gets to be safe but the choice isn't really a choice. He says he'll choose for Rak and he already has. Jak had already had Mahasamut beaten by the time he comes to see Tongrak and we know that because Mut's injuries have been treated when Rak gets home and Vivi is already there.

Matter of fact, the only reason Jak is even here talking to his son is because his attempt to convince Mut to leave has failed and he knows that going to Rak won't fail. He knows his son is afraid of him and he knows he can use that fear to get what he wants, which is why he brings up the uncle doctor.

Although we've gotten little of Jak so far, it's safe to assume that he is not a man who makes empty threats. Tongrak knows this, too, which is why he becomes so panicked when the doctor is brought up. We as the audience don't know who this doctor is but we can surmise from Tongrak's expression that he's important enough to be used as a weapon by Jak.

Until this point I don't think Tongrak realized that his father had anything to do with whatever happened to this doctor, he looks genuinely surprised. But all Jak had to do to prove how serious he is about his threat is mention the man. That's all he does. Rak puts the pieces together himself.

And here is where I bring up next week.

If you can look at this man's face as he rips the contract and think for a moment that he's going to try to push Mahasamut away for some flimsy petty reason, I am here to tell you that you are dead wrong. If I so much as SEE the words 'noble idiocy' I'm going to kick off.

Because we know that by the time Tongrak picks up this contract to rip it, Mahasamut has already been beaten twice and that Jak made a barely veiled threat to have him killed. Rak is rightfully terrified of his father and afraid for his boyfriend's life and wanting to keep Mut safe and ALIVE is not noble idiocy.

Now is it going to work? Smart money says no, wild horses couldn't drag Mahasamut away. He loves Rak too much to take any threats lying down. But as much as I understand why Mut talked to Jak, I understand why Rak wants to keep him safe even more.

Jak didn't accept Prin's offer because he wanted to help her. He doesn't give a single shit about her agenda except to mock her for it. He agreed to destroy his son because he wants to, because doing so will allow him to win and get back at his ex-wife. The money is just a bonus.

Jak is a Villain.

[solspina]

Is This a Library Date?

ahzek ahriman ⋆˙⟡

another dumb blurb that i decided to write instead of going to sleep! i’m still working on clearing up my asks box, i promise. not proofread :)

ahriman managed to make it into the black library, only to be stopped by a human guardian. he manages to escape back into the warp, but he doesn’t leave without unwanted feelings.

warnings: n/a

their eyes stared into the armored sorcerer of tzeentch, cold and unfeeling.

“intruder” they stated, their voice hard like the steel of the sword pressed up against his chest as his hands remained in the air in surrender. “identify yourself”

it would take nothing for him to slaughter them. to have them turned to dust with a wave of his hand and nothing more. to have them be sucked in by the warp, to manifest the most powerful vacuum known to the universe and command it to swallow the little guardian of the black library whole.

instead, he stood frozen.

“ahzek ahriman.” he stated, his voice warm and glazed with honey. he knew, going into this, that the black library would not be an easy target to acquire knowledge from. he’d expected a fight, a confrontation, all out war. he had not anticipated a much smaller, weaker, and yet stunning figure to emerge from the shadows.

the moment he saw them, he had come to a halting stop from his sprint. something had stopped him from dealing with them as simply and swiftly as he had the others.

perhaps it was the intelligence they radiated, perhaps it was the pain he had seen in their eyes, the longing for something greater. or perhaps it were their eyes themselves, the most beautiful pair of sightseeing organs he’d ever seen. perhaps it were their lips, or the way they were so confident in the illusion that they had gotten him cornered.

maybe it was the fact that whatever stood before him was the epitome of what mortal beauty could be. he felt great loss in the fact that the emperor would hide it away within the depths of the library, for something as striking as them should only know the light of the stars and to sit prettily atop a throne.

“state your purpose here, ahzek ahriman.”

“knowledge. that is all…” he knew that acting upon the sword pointed at his chest meant that his life was at stake, and that if they drove the sword through him before he managed to turn them to dust, he’d be a lost cause.

yet he hesitated.

they tried to speak to him. to tell him that his time in the black library was over, but before their sword could pierce any further, he moved in the blink of an eye behind them, placing his spear to their back between their shoulder blades.

psychic energy now radiated through the air as they whimpered slightly in pain. “i’d hate to take the life of such a pretty thing…” he spoke to himself, seeming to contemplate before shifting his focus to them.

it was incredibly obvious that their assailants had never bested them before, the way they seemed to open their mouth in shock. he noticed the way tears pricked at their eyes, and whether it was their initial reaction to knowing they may die or their response to the pain manifested by the power radiating from his spear, he did not know.

“why don’t we let each other go, yeah?” he asked, attempting to strike a deal with the young guardian of the black library, wishing to avoid killing them.

in the back of his mind, he prayed that they agreed to his request. it would truly pain him to deprive the world of something he thought so beautiful, and it would pain him even more knowing that he’d never have a chance to come back and take them away from these dark and winding halls.

they trembled, afraid to lose their life, but seemed to nod their head. he allowed them to turn and face him. he used a portion of his psychic energy to rip their sword from their hand and throw it to the ground. their eyes widened slightly at the proximity of the thousand sons chief librarian. the two of them were nearly chest to chest as he took a breath and spoke again “you keep your life, and i keep mine?”

they nodded again in response, afraid and shaken up by the near loss of their life to such a powerful psyker. they seemed to be dazed in their fear, allowing ahriman to lift his helmet just above his nose. dark brown hair came cascading down his shoulders, his armor not confining it to his head.

he seemed to be overcome by an impulse, the way he kissed their tears away. he shushed them into silence, an attempt of comfort as to not get them caught before he could escape back into the webway. he would take them with him, if the warp were safe enough for a mortal being, it was the safest way to know they couldn’t tell anyone of what happened today.

but he knew he couldn’t. not now. not yet.

he turned as the air seemed to crack open, leading himself back into the warp while pulling his helmet back over his head.

the young guardian reached for him, almost as if they wished he wouldn’t depart from them so soon. they had more questions for him, he could see it in their eyes. their interaction had been short and sickeningly sweet.

he placed his hand in theirs, lifting the back of their hand to his helmet, mimicking the action of a kiss. “i hope you are able to catch me, when i return.” he laughed.

he relished once again in the thought of this human traveling through the webway with him. he thought of the way he would scribe runes onto their skin in golden ink. he thought of the way he would introduce them to magnus, the way the crimson king would smile like a proud father at the sight of his most beloved son courting a human that looked like they belonged in the emperor’s gallery of statues and intricate paintings. even tzeentch would be proud.

“if i catch you first, i will not be the only one forbidden from entering this library ever again.”

[mintmatcha]

A singular light is on. The apartment is dim with diffused shadows, cast across the entryway from doorway to the dining room. As you take off your shoes, you're aware of a slow drumming-- tap, tap, tap, tap: fingers against the hardwood of the table. As you wander in, dropping your coat on the couch next to your husband's, you see the man in question. He's sitting there, expression more dour than usual.

"Sit down." Aizawa jerks his chin to the chair opposing him. For once he's still in his work clothes, his all black garb dusted at the knees and elbows. The sweats he usually changed into at still draped over the back of his chair, waiting for him.

"What is this?" You gesture to the scene before you, "Are you interrogating me or something?"

"Sit," he repeats, face flat. He's still wearing his boots, prosthetic still on. You're going to make him vacuum later. "We have to talk."

You slide into your seat, brow raised. Aizawa stares at you for a long moment before he leans back and grabs something from the floor. He tosses the item onto the table and taps his finger against it.

"What is this?" he asks. You pause for a second, expecting something scandalous, but then you process it and realize:

"It's the pack of boxer briefs you asked me to buy," you laugh a bit and Aizawa scowls deeper. His eye twitches at your amusement, "What?"

"You know what's wrong with this."

You look at the package again. It's the right size, the right material, the right cut-- you genuinely don't know what the issue is.

"It's... underwear."

"Look at it. Look." Aizawa taps the package, as if the answer is obvious.

"Honey-"

"You bought me." His voice cracks with really annoyance. "All Might underwear."

You shrug with a shake of your head, the breath of a laugh in your voice. "So? It was on sale."

Aizawa leans forward, taking the package in both hands and pointing to the designs. Most are just boldly colored, with bright blues and yellows, but the front most pair of briefs are spotted with All Might's face and name. It's gaudy, sure, but you're the only one seeing his underwear, so why should it matter?

"So?" Aizawa repeats back, "I work with the man, I can't wear his face on my fucking penis."

You lean forward to match him, shoulders bouncing with a laugh you're trying to swallow. "How would he know?"

"It doesn't matter if he knows, I'd know." Over dramatically, he tosses the package to the side and to the floor, face still scrunched with annoyance, "You have to return them."

"Again. They were on sale. I can't return them." You reach across the table for his hand, but he doesn't react, still staring at you with a curled lip. "I'll just wear them instead."

Aizawa groans.

"Absolutely not." He puts his head in his hands, hair falling over his eyes, "How could I ever look him in the eyes ever again? His face on your body."

"I guess you're not going to like my Dynamite thong then."

"Please tell me you're joking." Aizawa rubs his palms into his eyes, eyepatch moving back and forth, "He is my student, that's not funny."

"He was your student ten years ago," you remind him, "He's a grown man with merch now."

"Tell me you're joking. Tell me."

You stand, hands on your button fly, "Why don't you go check for yourself?"

"No." Aizawa finally looks up at you, expression almost pained, "We might never have sex again actually."

[simpstantruther]

Hungry Heart ch. 2 | (Mullet) Stanley Pines x Reader

Summary: Stan needs to go to Oregon. You need to get to California. Stan has a car. You have a cunt. (Can I make it any more obvious~)

(TW: Dated Language and ideas of sex and consent)

Tags: 80s Americana Roadtrip Partners-in-Crime Stan x Reader fic. Smut. You can fix him, but you're worse.

Preview:

Lee watches you with amusement over his coffee. He looks different when he’s well lit. Older. More worn. Especially with his hair slicked out of his face, so you can see how deep the bags under his eyes are. You prefer it messy.

He's a good time. Funny, but stupid. You didn’t know it was possible to fit a sausage link up one’s nose. It shouldn’t be, it was fucking gross. You stick your tongue out in playful disgust when he eats it anyways. He laughs like a boy.

Read on AO3.

The street light buzzing is so loud you can’t hear yourself think.

You can feel it between your shoulder blades, tense as the dry night air hits the sweat pooling down your back. The light casts a dark shadow beneath your feet as you stroll through the middle of the street trying to keep your feet on the faded yellow divider lines. You don’t. 

You’re still in Dallas. You think. 

You had a bed to sleep in tonight. Or maybe a couch, with the guy passed out across the covers like he did. You had already cleared out his pockets, peeked through a few drawers. 

You found a tiny gun. Fit right in the palm of your hand. Like it was left in that drawer just for you.

Then the poor fucker’s wife came home. 

When you heard the shotgun cock into place, you started running and didn’t stop, pockets considerably heavier. In the chaos, you forgot you nabbed the gun.

You’re glad you nabbed the gun. 

Now you don’t know where you are. As if you ever really knew anymore. Back streets like this all kind of blended together, no matter where in the U.S. you were dragging your sorry ass around. 

Empty dirt lot with a single bench, a sun shade and a bus stop to the left. Shit-hole liquor store, piss stained parking lot to the right. Food. Shelter. Pisser.  All one could ever need.

If only you had actual cash instead of valuables you needed to pawn.

You have a small gun now.

Stupid looking little revolver. Three in the chamber. Poor fucker couldn’t be assed to fill the thing? No wonder his wife wanted to kill him.

Your stomach growls. It wants to kill you.

Do you have it in you to stick up a place just to get something to eat?

You stop. 

Under the brilliant neon Open sign of the liquor store, in bright yellow, peeled-paint glory stands a pay phone. Handset intact. You suppress a cry of joy. You would fall to your knees in praise if you didn’t think you’d catch a disease on the rusted bolts holding it to the cracked concrete. One of the bolts is loose. It wants to leave too.

You feel in the change slot for a spare quarter, sticking your tongue out through the side of your mouth. Your fingertips brush against the ridged edge.

Holy shit.

If you’re not careful, you’ll use all your luck up in one night.

The miraculous quarter slips into the slot. You wait for the dial tone to buzz into your ear, white-knuckle-gripping the handset. 

Shit.

Who the fuck are you supposed to call in Dallas? A taxi? They don’t take gold chains. A shelter? They’re all closed. Did you want to get robbed?

You still couldn’t get to one even if you wanted to.

You hit the return button. Clink. At least you can pocket the quarter. 

As you slip it into your rear pocket, you feel the fuzzy, frayed edge of a business card. Why would you keep a business—

The Loveshack it says.

Why did you have a business card for The Loveshack? What even is The Loveshack?

You don’t know what possesses you, but you sniff the card. It smells unholy. Like beer, and sweat, and man-stink and— you need to sniff it again.

Why are you thinking of a mullet? 

It smells so familiar. Why does it smell familiar? And you feel like gagging, you hate tequila. 

Oh.

You slip the coin into the slot again, bouncing your heel as you wait for the other line to pick up.

“Front desk.” Crackles through the shitty speaker in the handset.

“Hi! G-Good evening—” Your old hostess voice possesses you. High and clipped and waiting to be reprimanded. An old reflex. You haven’t had a regular job in at least a year. You remember no greasy, stinking manager is breathing down your neck to sound pretty when you pick up the phone, so it returns to it’s deep natural state. 

“Hello?” The voice on the speaker croaks again.

“Patch me through to a room, please?”

“Which room?”

Shit. Which fucking room? You turn the card over. Nothing written anywhere. You don’t even remember the guy’s name. Maybe he didn’t know how to write. Honestly, all you remember is Bruce Springsteen and a mullet and thinking that his beefy hands might fit nice around your—

“Hello? Miss? Which room?”

“Uhhhh— don’t remember. He’s a guy, you know?” Of course they know, are you stupid? “Tall, big shoulders, shitty mullet—“ You motion to the top of your head as if the operator can see you.

“Patching you through.” 

The line goes quiet. You’re too anxious to bounce your heel anymore so you stand frozen, hunched over the pay phone box.

You hear heavy breathing on the line. Then a woman’s name, in a vaguely familiar, gruff Jersey accent.

“Who?” You question, confused.

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” 

Oh. You gave him a fake name, you remember.

“It’s Lee.”

“I know! Lee!” You draw out his name overly-affectionately. “How the hell are ya?”

“You called.” 

“I did!” 

“...I didn’t think you would call.”

“I said I would call, didn’t I?” You shrug your shoulders, tucking the phone beneath your chin and leaning back against the phone box. 

You hear him scoff. “I don’t think you did.”

He’s probably right, it doesn’t sound like you to promise something like that.

“ 'S fine. I wanted you to call. I’m glad you did.”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s quiet on the line too, drowned out by the white noise. The plastic static of the handset against your ear makes you shiver even though it’s pushing 85.

“Look, Lee… I’m sorry to call you like this, but I’m in a bit of a bad way—“

“What’s wrong?” He asks quickly. His concern is cute. He doesn’t know you. If he knew you he’d know something’s always wrong. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” You aren’t. There’s a pit growing in your stomach because you remember the last time you said those words to a semi-concerned party over the phone. About a year ago. You weren’t fine then, either. “You don’t have a car by chance, do ya? Or maybe just cab fare?”

“Where are you?” 

“Uh—“ You look around. The sign on the liquor store is missing letters. It's in a language you don't recognize. You aren't as worldly as you think.

“I got wheels. I’ll pick you up right now, sweetheart. Where are you?”

You silently cheer. You crane your neck and narrow your eyes to read a street sign, murmuring it into the receiver. You cross your fingers, bite your lip raw, and pray he heard you right. You can barely understand him through the crackling line.

“Give me twenty minutes, toots. An hour, tops. Don’t go nowhere.”

“I’ll be here!” You have nowhere else to go.

The line goes dead.

The hook is broken. You leave the handset on top of the box, swallow back your false cheerfulness and sit on the curb.

The street light buzzes above you, a spotlight on your failed state. You cannot hear yourself think. You are grateful.

You don’t have a watch. Giant, tacky bracelets hide your wrists well enough. So who knows how long it’s been once cars start pulling over and hollering at you to hop in. 

Cutting your jeans into daisy dukes seemed like a good idea once you got south of Memphis and the nights regularly cracked 90. It felt less so now, while rough concrete and gravel dug into your seat, sticking to your skin from sweat. 

You ready an empty glass bottle, aiming to launch it at the dark red convertible that slows beside you next.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Watch where you throw that thing. Can’t afford to replace the window again.”

You stand up so you can see past the half-rolled window.

“Lee?” You peer inside. 

It is Lee. He greets you with a wide smile, sliding out his door and moving in to hug you until he sees you flinch back. He blinks and freezes before nodding his head to himself and crossing behind the car. 

“After you, Angelface.” He cracks open the passenger door for you.

“What a gentleman.” You wheedle for him, grateful for the cushioned seat. You keep your eyes on him as he slams your door shut and gets back inside. A bit of caution was healthy. You shouldn’t trust him. He definitely shouldn’t trust you.

The front seat is clean. Vaguely. There’s a couple full trash bags sitting in the back seat. And a few beat up boxes of some bright blue towel thing, dye seeping everywhere it touches, and other assorted brand new junk headed straight for a landfill. It was like he raided the world’s shittiest truck load of useless crap. Why was he lugging around all this stuff?

It still reeks like cheap cigarettes. But at least it didn’t smell like tequila. You crack open your window anyways. 

“Where to?” Lee asks, smiling nervously as he shifts the car into gear, hand staying on the shifter knob between you. 

God, his arms. He’s punishing the thread around the sleeves, rolling them up like that. He put on a clean shirt for the occasion. And gas-station cologne. How sweet.

He shaved, too. You’re a little disappointed, though his jaw is nothing to be ashamed of. You wanna run your hand over his skin, mourn his five o’clock shadow. For the love of god, the man has dimples. Is he Catholic? Would he smack you if you use the lord’s name in vain? You kind of hope he does. Maybe you'll let him borrow one of the rings you 'found'.

You know you look like shit. You can see the outline of your tangled, frizzed hair in the dark in passenger side mirror. You’re never teasing your hair again.

If you pass by a street light, you know you’ll see the rest of yourself in the dirty yellow glow, looking haunting as ever. You angle the mirror away. No need for another reason to bum yourself out before your— whatever this is— with Lee.

You sigh and relax back into the seat, closing your eyes with relief as the rough road jostles you. Almost rocks you to sleep, right there in the passenger seat. 

He says your fake name again as you’re drifting off. 

“Sorry.” You yawn and smack your lips.

He waits for your answer. He can't go nowhere, after all.

You sigh.

“I’m gonna be honest, Lee. I got no idea where to go.”

He nods as he drives with his eyes forward. You already caught him glancing down at your chest after a particularly bad pot hole. He was on his best behavior now. You get to study his silhouette.

“Ain’t you stayin’ anywhere?”

“Nah. Got kicked out of my room this morning. Had a place lined up, but it fell through.” 

You hope he doesn’t ask more. He doesn’t. Good man.

Your stomach grumbles and you hunch over, desperate to subdue the sound. You were used to that by now.

“How about we get you somethin’ to eat, huh? That sound alright?”

“You sure?” You look up at him, your hand cradling your empty stomach.

“Hell yeah. Been dyin’ to take you out since you first glared at me. Dressed up for the occasion—thanks for noticin’.”

“Is that so?” You huff out a laugh. “Color me flattered. You clean up nice. But you’re full of it. I wasn’t glarin’ at nothin’.”

“Oh yeah? ‘Cos I liked it, you know. I thought you were makin’ eyes at me. I like when pretty girls make eyes at me.”

“You’re blind, bud.”

“Nahhh. ” He grins wider. “You like me. Think I’m handsome.” 

You neither confirm nor deny, but you smile as he turns away. You see him blinking and narrowing his eyes at the road signs as he drives. He’s probably blinder than you are. Maybe he regrets telling you to call him, now with your mess close enough to see.

“Pretty girls must be in short supply if you’re settling for me.” You mutter under your breath and lay back again. If he heard you, he doesn’t reply.

He pulls into a 24-hour diner. 

It’s like he read your mind. You could kill a breakfast combo right now. And however many coffees you can drink before they kick you out for not paying, unless Lee is more liquid than he looks.

You doubt it.

You spin around on your plastic-y little dinner stool, your busted heels hanging off your toes as you kick your feet around. The coffee is good . You would have preferred a booth for privacy, but this is fun too. 

Lee watches you with amusement over his coffee. He looks different when he’s well lit. Older. More worn. Especially with his hair slicked out of his face, so you can see how deep the bags under his eyes are. You prefer it messy.

He's a good time. Funny, but stupid. You didn’t know it was possible to fit a sausage link up one’s nose. It shouldn’t be, it was fucking gross. You stick your tongue out in playful disgust when he eats it anyways. He laughs like a boy.

He’s got nice teeth. Mom would be happy, if that kind of thing mattered now. You wonder if he’s Catholic. You don’t think you are anymore.

He makes you laugh ugly. It makes your cheeks hurt, the kind where you have to massage them for a while after. It feels good to laugh ugly.

He doesn’t ask about anything that matters. You like that.

You both check out the same waitress. You ask her for sugar free sugar, the real kind (whatever that means), and you both watch as she stands on a stool to look at the top shelf, her teeny uniform not covering much of anything. She’s probably eighteen. Doesn’t know any better.

Now you’ve been on both sides. It’s a rite of passage.

He tells you you’re prettier than her, but you pretend not to hear, flicking a folded up napkin towards the trash can behind the counter. Daddy always said you were a pretty girl. You used to hear that a lot more often. You’d believe Lee if it were a couple days ago, when you were within twelve hours of a hot shower. 

The napkin misses the trash can. You meet his eyes. He smirks.

You have an unspoken agreement with Lee.

You chew your soggy, jellied toast silently and without alarm while he pockets another customer’s tip.

He shovels scrambled eggs into his mouth and doesn’t mention anything as your fingers slip into the lady beside you’s pocket book. 

God bless 24-hour diners.

Combined, you probably have enough to pay for your food. You’re still a little short, not that the waitress would notice until you left, if she could count at all. But why leave it to chance? 

You both stand up at the same time, offering compliments to the chef, the lovely waitress—

“Where do you think you two are going?” A grimy hand wraps around your arm. It’s the cook. Or else he just smells like bacon grease. You feel less satisfied with how the food sits in your stomach, suddenly. “You ain’t paid yet.”

“Alright, keep your paws to yourself, pal—“ Lee knots his hand in the cook’s greasy shirt. Meaty fucking hand. God, the size of those fingers.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey—“ You hold your hands up in surrender. “We’re cool. No need to freak out. We’re cool, aren’t we?” 

“Still gotta pay for your fuckin’ food.” 

You have a small gun now. Your fingers itch to hold it again, to squeeze the grip made for your small hand.

You glance at the laminated menu another customer ducks their head behind. Quickly you stand beside Lee, pressing your chest against his side with your hand on his sternum. He’s warm. Solid, beneath the softness. It’s nice when he’s not damp with beer sweat. You try not to think about it. 

“Are you serious ? You—you think Mr. Denny pays at his own restaurants?” You motion to Lee with your hand. 

The cook balks at both of you, and Lee puffs out his chest. You try not to laugh.

“Bullshit you’re Mr. Denny. He’s gotta be like eighty or something.”

“J-Junior! Mr. Denny junior, obviously!” You take Lee’s jaw between your thumb and forefinger and aim his face at the cook. You’re suddenly grateful Lee combed his hair back. And that he knows when to keep his mouth shut. “See this? Spitting image!”

The cook glances at a blown up photograph hanging on the wall. White hair, beady eyes, the kind of jaw that recedes back into a neck. About the only thing similar to Lee was that they were both human. Maybe. 

Damn. You almost made it, too.

A giggle bubbles out of Lee’s throat as he catches sight of the photograph and the cook’s face goes red, burn-calloused hand reaching for Lee’s throat. A busboy with a tray full of dishes passes by at the wrong moment and you swing your hand up and knock the entire tray back against the cook. 

You leave behind a calamity of broken porcelain and gasps in your wake as you pull Lee by his hand out of the diner. He throws down a few chairs on his way to muddle the path to follow you both as you run. 

Even in busted heels, you’re faster than Lee. 

His huffing, red face would be entertaining if he wasn’t the one with the keys. 

“Drive, drive, drive!” You hollar, grin plastered to your cheeks as you smoosh your face and hands against the passenger window, watching in amusement as the cook and the waitress scramble outside and look around for you.

Lee’s braying laugh fills your ears as his car pulls out of the parking lot. You’re laughing too, content with wherever he sees fit to take you. You feel safe. You shouldn’t, but you do.

You have a small gun now.

Previous chapter.

Next chapter.

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Youngest Shadow: Chapter Four, Field Trips

(Alice X Reader X Jasper)

[three] [four] [five]

Bella and I stood next to each other, we had just gotten to our science field trip. I observed Bella’s eyes that went to the Cullens as usual. I then hear foot steps behind and before I can warn Bella, Mike pretends to be Dr. Frankenstein.

“Look! You’re moving. You’re alive!” He shouts, both Bella and I cringe. “Yeah false alarm.”

“Actually, I’m glad you’re not dead cause- well, that would suck, plus I wanted to ask you even though it’s like a month away…” He continued to talk, not even paying attention to the fact that she wasn’t facing his direction.

I watch Edward look up and over at our direction. Bella finally snaps out of it and looks over at Mike. It was a little late.

“So, what do you think?” He notices her blank expression. “You want to go? To prom. With me.”

I cover my mouth, looking away after seeing her horrified look. I try my best to refrain from laughing.

“Prom, as in dance. I uh- have to go somewhere. To Jacksonville. Yeah.” She sprouts out her lie.

“You can’t go another weekend?”

“Non-refundable ticket. Maybe you should ask Jessica.” We all glance over to across the lawn where Jessica stood. Mike then looks at me and my eyes widen.

“Don’t think about it. You’re not my type.” I sternly tell him.

He presses his lips together, sighing then going over to Jessica.

Both Bella and I make eye contact, laughing from that horrible ordeal.

Throughout the day I kept seeing two specific Cullens looking my way. And as that happened, each time I would look behind me as if there was something more interesting there.

Of course I would sneak some looks at them too but I’m hoping they didn’t notice or I wasn’t as obvious as they were.

We were now walking through the greenhouse and I saw Bella try to go up to Edward so instead of staying in between that I decide to walk ahead. Moving passed Edward and accidentally bumping into non other than Alice who seemed to have gripped tighter to Jasper.

Her grip loosened after seeing me. “I’m so sorry.” I bowed my head down a tiny bit to not look them in the eyes. She smiled motioning with her hand. “It’s quite alright.” Her voice was angelic, my face warmed up a bit and I start to feel embarrassed at how I was acting.

“I won’t be a bother, sorry again.” I stammered, going to walk away but she gently takes my hand for a second. I gasp at how cold she was.

“You can hang with us if you’d like.” My eyes wander over to Jasper who does a small nod, agreeing with his partner.

I shrug as a why not, finally straightening my posture and looking them in the eyes for only seconds at a time before looking somewhere else.

“Did those hurt?” She points to my piercings, since I flinch for a moment she instantly takes her hand back. “Oh, not really. I guess my tongue did but only the healing part.” I stick my tongue out, showing her. She stares at it.

I smile, closing my mouth, her nose scrunches in response. “I couldn’t imagine the feeling of metal in my mouth all the time.” She mumbles, almost inaudible.

“It doesn’t bother you after awhile. It kinda becomes you.” I say, purposefully adding a little dramatics at the end. I notice Jasper watching me intently. I smile and him and I didn’t even know his eyes could get wider but they did.

“Here, walk in between us.” Alice takes my sleeved arm, nod even between the fabric it still feels cold. I wonder if it bothers her.

I do as suggested, Jasper doesn’t seem so tense anymore either.

“You play Volleyball, I heard?” She asks, I grin just by the fact that she knew. “Yes! Our last game is coming up.”

“Really?” Alice looks up at me, I nod about to say something but Jasper beats me.

“We should go to it.”

My eyes light up but quickly I shot it down going back to a neutral expression.

“Yeah that would be awesome.” I agree.

For the rest of the trip I stood next to the two, it felt different but fresh as it wasn’t the same people I’ve been talking to for so long.

Someone other than Bella, Charlie, Jacob and Angela that enjoyed talking to me without using me to talk to my sister.

The buses arrived and we made our way over there, I saw Bella and Edward talking and it seemed to be upsetting my sister. I begin to walk over, picking up the pace and Alice joins.

“Hi, will you be riding with us?” She asks Bella but before my sister can say anything Edward interrupts. “No our bus is full.” He turns to go on the bus.

“Here’s my number, we should be-“

“Alice, come on.” Edward grabs her, stopping her from giving me the tiny paper. Jasper joins them, he gives me a sympathetic look and I give a small smile in return.

What just happened..?

“Your mother called, again.” Charlie calls after Bella who just stormed into the house trying to go upstairs to her room.

“Your fault for telling her about the accident.” Bella shrugs.

“She always did know how to worry.” His voice sounded sad. “But she’s changed, too. She seems happy. Phil sounds all right.”

“He is.” Bella goes up the stairs, I watch her spit the wedding photo Charlie still hasn’t seemed to take down.

The next day at lunch I stared at the Cullen table, unaware that I was doing it as I was thinking. Looking right at Alice and Jasper, infatuated with their relationship. Wondering what it was like behind closed doors. What kind of people they truly were. Why were they so nice to me at the field trip.

“La Push, baby. You in?” Eric and both my sister and I.

“Should I know what that means?” Bella raises an eyebrow.

“La Push beach, down on the Quileute rez. We’re all going after school. Big waves coming in.” Mike further explains. I already knew as Jacob had told me about the waves.

“And I don’t just surf the internet.” Eric makes a horrible joke.

“Eric, you stood up once. On a foam board.” Jessica called him out and even though I’m not fond of her. That was pretty funny.

“There’s whale watching too. You both should come with.” Angela chimes in and I smile at her.

“I’ll only go if you are.” I nudge her since she was right next to me. Her eyes widen at first but then she grins back.

“La Push baby.”

“I’ll go you stop saying that.” Bella says.

I knew Jake would be there with the others.

So of course I’m going to go. Plus, Angela is pretty cool. I love hanging out with her.

As Bella gets up to get food from the salad bar, I stand up as well but to go to the bathroom. “Where you going? Lunch isn’t over.” Eric questions me, they all look at me and I roll my eyes before turning to look at them. “I can’t piss anymore?”

Only reason I truly sit with them is for Bella and now Angela.

“Gosh you can’t ask questions anymore.” Jessica mutters, thinking I wouldn’t have heard. I raise my eyebrows, giving her a look. She presses her lips together and I head to the bathroom like I was going to do.

I enter the restroom, I actually wasn’t going to use it but to take a minute to myself before classes and everything. I normally am not overwhelmed so easily but something came over me like whiplash.

I heard the door open. “Sorry.” I whisper, going to get out of the persons way. “Hey, you alright?” The voice was small, gentle and I knew exactly who it was

“Oh, hey Alice. Yeah, I’m fine.” I force a smile, she stares at my face for a few seconds as if she was noticing me for the first time. Her expression was blank. Now it looks like she is staring off into space. I wave my hand for a minute, wondering if she’s okay.

Suddenly a smile appears upon her face. “If you say so, sweetheart.” She acts as if nothing happened. Going towards the mirror to fix her hair even though it laid perfectly. I watched every movement.

“So, you ready for that big game tomorrow?” She asks, I let out a shaky breath, laughing a bit at myself for being so nervous.

“Big time. Everyone will be there. We’ll make the paper if we win.” I tell her and she turns to face me once again.

“Really? That’s huge!” She squeals like it was actually important to her. “Yeah um, and I was thinking there’s this thing today. You should come, bring Jasper too.” I start,

Her head turns to the side. “We’re going to the beach if you’re interested.”

“Which one?”

I perk up to her answer, not expecting her to actually be interested.

“La Push.” I watch her expression falter the tiniest bit.

“Oh, how many people?”

“Uh, quite a bit.” I frown.

“I would love to. Really but Jasper has pretty bad social anxiety.” She sadly tells.

“I totally get it. Don’t worry. I’ll see you both at my game tomorrow though, right?” She seemed relieved by my response.

“Of course.”

“I keep thinking Eric’s going to ask me to prom, then he just doesn’t.” Angela tells Bella and I as we walk by the driftwood of the beach.

“You should ask him.” I tell her, Bella nods agreeing. “Take control. You’re a strong independent woman.” Bella exclaims like a motivational speaker.

“I am?”

“Totally.”

“Bella!? [Name]!” We three look up to see Jacob, Sam and Embry.

“Yes, you are.” I tell Angela before we acknowledge Jacob and end this conversation with her thinking to herself.

“Guys, this is Jacob.” I say.

“Are you stalking us?” Bella jokes.

“You’re on my rez remember?” He reminds her, “also you surfing? [Name] I’m surprised you’re not suited up too.” I just flip him off. “Definitely not.” Bella says.

“Keep her company, her date bailed.” Jessica teases and this is where I’m glad I’m not close with these people and they didn’t join me to the bathroom and heard my conversation.

Also I don’t think they would be cool with the idea of girls finding other girls attractive… sexually.

“What date?” Eric butts in.

“She invited Edward.”

“To be polite.” Bella argues, obviously embarrassed. “I think it’s nice she invited him. No one ever does.” Angela inquires, I think she is so sweet.

“Because Cullens a freak.” Mike sharply tells. “You got that right.” Sam speaks up and i grimace, not expecting that from him.

“You know them?” Bella questions.

“The Cullens don’t come here.”

I notice Jacob give Sam a look.

Everyone kind of stands there awkwardly and Bella ends up pulling Jacob aside, and she seems different. Like she’s trying to be flirtatious with him. And Jacob still having that puppy love crush is absolutely falling for it. I shake my head, sighing hoping he doesn’t get hurt. But I have a feeling Bella’s going to accidentally do so.

I go over to Sam and Embry as Angela decides to hand around Eric. “You got a little hot-headed out there.” I poke Sam who huffs in response. “Cullens are that bad?” I turn to Embry who looks down.

“You’ve heard the story before at the campfire, [Name]” Sam says, basically telling me I should remember one of these stories that I was told years ago. I press my lips together, shrugging my shoulders. “The Cullens were supposedly descended from an enemy clan. Does that ring a bell?”

I shake my head, “not really.”

“They claimed to be different than the normal enemy. So we made a treaty with them. If they promised to stay off Quileute lands we wouldn’t expose what they really were to humans.” Sam explains further, cutting it short than what Billy would have said.

“What are they-“

A scream emits from further down near the water, it was Angela being chased by Eric who holds a dead crustacean.

I end up not repeating my question as it seems to upset Sam. Going to join Jake and my sister who sat together.

Chapter four😨

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