#best leather wallets for men

[seoexpertabdullah09]

Struggling with Cheap Wallets That Don’t Last? Here’s the Fix

Are you tired of wallets that peel, crack, or lose shape too quickly? Many men face this issue because of poor-quality synthetic wallets that don’t last. Fake leather wallets may look good initially, but they fade, tear, and lose durability in just a few months. This means constant replacements, wasted money, and frustration over finding a reliable option.

The solution? Best leather wallets for men crafted from genuine cowhide leather. Unlike synthetic wallets, high-quality leather wallets are designed to last, maintaining their style, durability, and premium feel over time. Whether you need a bifold leather wallet, trifold leather wallet, minimalist leather wallet, or RFID-blocking wallet, investing in genuine leather wallets ensures long-term use, security, and a classic look. Don’t settle for wallets that fall apart—upgrade to premium leather wallets for lasting quality.

[shifahandicraft]

Shifa Handicraft

Leading manufacturers and Exporters of high-quality handcrafted and leather Products & accessories. Its originated in India. We guarantee high standards and quality of all products. All the products are manufactured as per customer’s requirements and specifications Premium Handcrafted Products Government certify Manufacturers & Exporters, we access best and secure payment.

[cavallocollections]

Wanderer's Tales: The Journey of a Wallet

Once upon a time, in the bustling streets of a modern city, there lived a wallet named Wanderer. Wanderer was no ordinary wallet; it had seen the world through the eyes of its owner, James, a passionate traveler.

Wanderer's journey began with James's first solo trip abroad. It was a sturdy leather wallet, chosen for its durability and classic style. As James explored new countries, Wanderer became more than just a holder of cards and cash—it became a symbol of his adventures.

In Paris, Wanderer kept James's Euros safe as he marveled at the Eiffel Tower's magnificence. In Tokyo, it held his subway pass as he navigated the bustling streets of Shibuya. In the serene landscapes of New Zealand, it carried memories captured in Polaroid pictures.

Over time, Wanderer accumulated stamps from customs, receipts from exotic markets, and notes scribbled on foreign currencies. Each mark told a story—a story of moments lived, cultures embraced, and dreams fulfilled.

But Wanderer wasn't just a witness to joyous moments. It also bore the weight of challenges, like when James lost it in a crowded market in Marrakech. Panic turned to relief when a kind stranger returned it, highlighting the importance of trust and goodwill in the world.

As years passed, Wanderer aged gracefully, its leather developing a patina that mirrored James's own journey—marked by experiences, scars, and resilience. It became a conversation starter, prompting strangers to share their own travel tales upon glimpsing its worn yet cherished exterior.

One day, as James sat by a tranquil beach, reflecting on the adventures captured within Wanderer, he realized that it wasn't just a wallet; it was a keeper of memories, a companion on life's incredible voyage.

And so, the story of Wanderer the wallet continued, inspiring others to see their wallets not just as accessories but as vessels of stories waiting to be told, reminding us that the true value of a wallet lies not in what it carries but in the journeys it embarks upon.

[hedoniststyle]

Buy Handmade Leather Wallets Online in Chicago at Hedonist

Handmade leather goods hold a special place in the hearts of those who appreciate authenticity and attention to detail. Each hand-stitched seam, each carefully selected piece of leather, tells a story of dedication and artistry. Handmade leather wallets transcend mere functionality; they’re statements of personal style and a nod to the timeless tradition of artisan craftsmanship.

The Allure of Handmade Leather Goods

At Hedonist, crafting handmade leather wallets is a labor of love. Each wallet is meticulously designed and meticulously crafted to ensure that it not only serves its purpose but also becomes a cherished accessory that stands the test of time. From the choice of leather to the stitching technique, every detail is carefully considered to create a wallet that exudes elegance and durability.

Your wallet is a reflection of your personality and style. A handmade leather wallet from Hedonist becomes more than just an accessory; it becomes a part of your journey. As you carry it with you, it accumulates memories and experiences, creating a unique narrative that’s deeply personal.

Mass-produced wallets may offer convenience, but they lack the character and uniqueness that come with handmade pieces. Hedonist’s handmade leather wallets are distinct in their own right. No two wallets are exactly alike, ensuring that you’re carrying a piece that’s as individual as you are.

Our Wallets Feature Uniqueness in Every Stitch

Handmade leather wallets are an investment in quality. The superior craftsmanship and choice of materials ensure that your wallet stands up to the demands of daily use while retaining its beauty. With proper care, a handmade leather wallet from Hedonist can be a companion that lasts for years, aging gracefully and developing a rich patina that tells the story of its journey.

A handmade leather wallet is not just an accessory; it’s an opportunity to elevate your style and make a lasting impression. Whether you’re dressing up for a formal occasion or heading out for a casual day, your handmade leather wallet from Hedonist adds a touch of sophistication and elegance to your ensemble.

Experience the Art of Handcrafted Elegance

Hedonist understands that every individual has unique preferences. That’s why our collection of handmade leather wallets encompasses a variety of styles, sizes, and designs. Whether you’re drawn to minimalist designs or wallets with more compartments, you’ll find the perfect match that suits your needs and style.

Shopping for handmade leather wallets online in Chicago has never been easier, thanks to Hedonist’s user-friendly website. You can browse our collection, explore different styles, and make your selection from the comfort of your home. With just a few clicks, you can own a piece of artisan craftsmanship that’s been thoughtfully created.

[orphicsun]

Ellie x reader who’ve been dating a few years, and Ellie tries to propose 5 times but keeps getting interrupted, until for the 6th time, she proposes while in the middle of fucking ?? 💕💕

content: cheesy fluff, 18+ content, scissoring, loser Ellie(ish) content FINALLYYY

Ellie was patient at her best and pacing at her worst. She didn't like rushing things that were most beautiful in development. The process of a fuzzy caterpillar emerging from its cocoon and spreading its wet wings in the midst of the entire sky for it to explore, the beauty of childhood, the process of learning a skill like art or playing the guitar. Good things took time.

Your relationship was inarguably one of the most beautiful things to ever exist. Ellie looked back at the years of change between the two of you. The honeymoon phase never seemed to wear off, still giggling as your lips smushed together in kisses soft like warm, freshly-baked cookies and getting the nervous jitters before a nice date.

You both couldn't get enough of each other through the hardships, the times when you didn't agree with each other and needed space. The challenges of when you had first moved in with Ellie and when you had to adjust to each other's lives. You were no magically perfect couple, and that is what made Ellie love the relationship even more if it were. The disagreements and the road-bumps, the stress over money or things out of your control only brought the two of you closer together, as if Ellie were a red magnet and you were completely blue. Ellie would've taken the worst with you over the best with anyone else, and that thought was what resulted in the purchase of engagement ring.

The thought wasn't on a special date or in one of the moments you were tangled up in bed together, but when she was actually in her solitude. You weren't clocking out 'till 3 pm sharp today, and Ellie was in a state of pathetic yearning. She kept random moments in her brain and stored them for times like these, when you weren't near for her to stare at and wonder how she got so lucky. It was a blurry conjuring in her head, a moment when you were folding the laundry and threw a rag at her head. And suddenly, she thought that thought. She couldn't imagine anyone else throwing a rag at her head. And so, Ellie took it upon herself to find the ring that would shine on your hand like it belonged there, something you'd enjoy looking at while sitting at your desk job 40 miles from home. Ellie wouldn't be like one of the men who bought their wife a ring that she had never shared an interest for.

Then came the 6 trials, as Ellie loved to jokingly call them. The first was a product of her own nerves—sweaty hands and a pricey, velvet box didn't suit well with the girl. She planned a date at a botanical garden and lead you through, but her never-ending adoration for you was what got her. Her inability to say no to you.

Walking up the bridge, she stopped. She tapped your shoulder, humming a small "babe.." for your ears to pick up on the nerves in her tone.

You turned around, and that is when Ellie choked. Your hair swayed in the slight, cool breeze of wind. The sunlight reflected the shine of it in certain areas, and lightened it up in others. Your eyes squinted in avoidance of sun, but your smile was bright. You were looking at her. She stuttered and stumbled like a fool until your eyes suddenly lit up and changed course of direction towards a hibachi truck on the other side of the park.

"Babe! Do you have some cash on you? I really want some california rolls." You tugged at her sleeve and Ellie was already gunning for her leather wallet in the pocket of her jeans.

The last four times were all mostly the same. A nice date like a picnic in a park she drove a while aways from home for, a reservations at a Brazilian steakhouse you rambled on about, the botanical garden (again), and her last desperate attempt was at an art museum both of you were excited for.

Everytime it was something different. The timing wasn't right, or the waiter came back with the appetizers or bill. The second garden trip was because the two of you ran into Jesse and Dina before she could even pat down the box in her pocket and assure herself that she would go through with it. Her nerves only worsened each discouragement.

The sixth trial was accidental. She had initially planned another reservation, this time at a high-end steakhouse in the urban parts of your city. It was a week away, and Ellie was living life just fine.

It was still a week away, and the two of you were in bed together late in the night. Ellie's body was pressed against yours with much intimacy, warm tits pressed together and your legs tangled underneath sweaty sheets Ellie would throw off the bed later.

"Fuck, babe. You feel so good." Ellie murmured against your neck while she indulged herself in the heat that emitted from it. She enjoyed your scent and smothering your softness in loving kisses. Her leg hitched up over yours, aligning your cunts as closely as possible before sinking down.

The moan she tore from your throat made her heart pitter-patter, and her hips jolted forward, her clit catching on yours.

"Mhm.." you mumbled lazily, in your own state of bliss. You'd had another long day of work, but the sleepiness didn't stop you from wanting Ellie like this.

"Can I kiss you, babe?" Ellie requested, already moving her peachy lips from your neck.

Your slow nod lead to the sloppy kisses that got Ellie really wet. You felt it against your own pussy, your girlfriend writhing on top of you and dripping both of you onto the sheets. She humped your pussy as if she were catching a heat, not paying any attention to the shlick sounds that caused a vulnerable red in your cheeks until it became one of those things that really fucked with her.

Her mouth pulled from yours despite your small whine of protest, opting to rant out what she wouldn't normally say. "Fuck..feels so fuckin' good. I need to fuck you like this tomorrow. Can I please, please fuck you just like this tomorrow night?" You didn't get the chance to nod—"You feel so warm, like my own little space heater. I could keep you forever, you know." She gave you earnest, but sloppy movements, making you need more while also getting off on her heightened sense of pleasure.

"Yeah, Els. That's nice-"

"Just marry me already." Ellie blurted from her lips, immediately freezing on top of you. When she went still and rose from your laid form, you tapped her shoulder. You sat up, lifting the blanket over your tits as a reaction to the nerves she caused.

"Ellie..? Did you mean that?"

"Well, yes..I've been meaning to say it for a while." She admitted quietly.

Your heart was racing faster than moments ago, and you cupped her face to turn it towards you. "You really mean that? You wanna marry me, too?"

Ellie didn't miss the implication of that. "You wanna marry me?"

"Yes!" You hugged her, completely missing that Ellie was asking in a different way and not in a proposing way, but nevermind that.

Ellie tugged your hips and you move into her lap, melting in her arms. You both giggled like during the very first kiss back in Ellie's hand-me-down BMW, and she smothered your cheeks in soft, wet kisses while holding you close.

"You know, I was gonna propose on our next date. I made the reservation and everything."

"Celebratory dinner?" You suggested, wrapping your arms around her until they can spread over her bare back.

"Yeah, sure. Or..you could be my celebratory dinner." Ellie grinned at your surprise, and flips you back onto the bed to lay for her, already leaving giddy kisses down your body.

taglist: @witzs, @bewareofmyglock, @ruelezz, @mitskimisfit, @g4ys0n. Taglist form here

[osamucide]

WHAT THEIR LOVE FEELS LIKE . . .

. . . ft. BSD men

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA . . . freshly steamed rice, sherpa blankets, the moon in the sky during the day, well-loved dirt paths, comfortable sweatpants, clean kitchens, perfectly made lemonade, finding a dollar in your pocket, gentle cat paws, scratching a lover's back.

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI . . . used books with vigilant annotations in them, jazz music, charm bracelets, quiet and steady streams, lined leather journals, light rain, flickering flourescent light, cracking the spine of a new novel, knowing looks, linking pinkies while walking, caramel drizzle.

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA . . . boozy chocolate-covered cherries, leather car interior, red sangria, gold jewelry, peeled clementines, extinguished matches, the peaceful room next door to a party, counting a lover's freckles, cupping your hands around a flame, divine geometry.

⊹ AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE . . . star anise, black lace, fig jam, perfect puddles of rainwater, vanilla ice cream, soft distant thunder, silver jewelry, blackberry-stained lips and fingertips, tracing sweet words into a lover's palm, the moment of silence and peace when you pass beneath a bridge while it rains.

⊹ RANPO EDOGAWA . . . shortbread cookies, wool socks, poppies, stray eyelashes, strawberry jam, argyle and pastels, candied fruit, chess matches, foil-wrapped chocolates with sweet sayings inside, when a dog at a party likes you best, collections of old keys, shooting stars.

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA . . . peonies, perfectly pulled shots of espresso, letters with broken wax seals, comfortable routines, toffee and brown sugar, freshly ironed clothes, finding something that's been lost, completed to-do lists, cats sleeping atop stacks of books.

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA . . . photo albums hidden in plain sight, flickering candles, the breeze on a cloudy beach, stars on a clear night, perfectly steeped tea, crackling fireplaces, a safety net, clean sheets and pillowcases, crisp mountain air, packing a lover's lunch in the morning.

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA . . . steam from a bath, soft and implacable floral scents, typewriter font, concentric tree circles, fallen bird feathers, uplifting newspaper headlines, children's laughter, protective hugs from behind, stratus clouds like blankets over the sky, dreams that make you want to sleep longer.

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI . . . brown italian leather, vintage cameras, subtle gemstone details, warm french bread, fancy bookmarks, polaroids in your wallet, tying a lover's shoes, laughing at everything when you've drank a bit too much, dried rosemary and blood orange and pomegranate.

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY . . . frost-covered cranberries, string music, coffee table books on classical art, accidental halos of light, perfectly toasted marshmallows, the crunch of fresh snow beneath your boot, coconut and dark chocolate, a stray cat trusting you to pet it.

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL . . . pistachio ice cream, mourning doves on a wire, strands of pearls, opalescence, sitting side by side at a piano, salt water taffy, blowing a perfect bubble with your gum, the television flickering as you sleep, cradling a lover's face, banana pudding trifle.

⊹ SIGMA . . . fresh linen smell, rose gardens, pressed flowers, sleek dress shoes, swan necks in the shape of a heart, satin and silk, bouquets in translucent cellophane, sleeves wide enough to fit someone else's arms in, lace folding fans, white chocolate truffles.

[ereardon]

The Backup || Chapter 2

[Jake Seresin x Reader]

A friends with benefits AU

Overview: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader

Chapter summary: Y/N goes on a first date with someone and sparks fly; Jake shows his first crack of jealousy

Warnings: Implied smut, cursing

WC: 3.3K

Previous chapter here; masterlist here

[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]

“He’s hot!” 

You turned your head to where Phoenix was pointing and grimaced. Goatee, Chelsea boots, jeans skinnier than yours. “Is this 2014?” you asked, turning back to the table and putting your hands on the sticky wood. “No thanks. Going to get a second round. Want anything?” 

“Rum and coke.” 

You pushed your way to the busy bar, propping your elbows up and flagging the bartender. “Rum and coke and a tequila soda please.” 

He nodded, turning away and you looked back at the table. A tall blond was chatting up Phoenix, one of his arms looped around the back of her chair. You rolled your eyes. Everyone always flocked to Phoenix. Men, women, it didn’t matter. She had that carefree attitude that attracted people like flies to honey. It would be a lie if you said you weren’t jealous. Her taste was abysmal but that was besides the point. She had options, and you envied that.

“Here you go.” The waiter set the drinks down. “Twenty two dollars.” 

“Let me get that for you.” A voice from your left appeared out of thin air. You turned. A credit card extended from his massive hand, held out over the bar. The arm was covered in a leather jacket, and you trailed your eyes up his arm to his face which hovered a good foot above you or more. Dark hair, slightly overgrown, and a sharp jawline with a slightly hawkish nose. His eyes flickered down toward you and you felt your heart throb in your chest. 

“I have a tab,” you interrupted, sticking out one hand, putting it over his hand that hovered out with a credit card glued between two massive fingers. You didn’t pull away and neither did he. 

The bartender’s voice interrupted. “Name?” 

“Natasha,” you replied, and he moved away, tapping Phoenix’s name into his system and finding her card from when the two of you had arrived an hour before.

You felt a rush of air as the stranger’s hand pulled away, sliding his credit card back into a thin black wallet. He looked down at you from where he was leaning against the bar. “Now I owe you a drink, Natasha.” 

You shook your head but he never flinched. “Natasha is my friend over there.” You pointed at Phoenix who was now laughing with a new person, this time a girl wearing a tight miniskirt. “I’m Y/N.” 

His voice was deep. “I’m Liam.”

He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. A mysterious almost Adam Driver-like quality. You leaned forward, pressing one leg against his. “Here.” You reached into your purse, tugging at a loose business card and holding it out. “If you were serious about that drink.” 

Liam held the card up in the dim lighting of the bar, one thick black eyebrow raised as he read off the card. He lowered it, sliding it into his pocket, inching forward, musk filling the air around you. “Are you here to meet guys, Y/N, or to get stock tips?” 

You tossed your head back in a laugh. When you caught Liam’s eye he was smiling, lips pulled tightly together but in a grin. “I know better than to look for tips at a bar in the Marina,” you replied. “I’d just go to the Philz at Embarcadero.” 

Liam’s lip twitched up. “I’ll let you get back to your friend.” 

“Thanks for the hypothetical promise of a drink,” you replied, picking up both drinks. 

Liam’s hand reached out, fingers spread across your bare wrist. “Y/N.” His voice was deep and gruff; it scratched that inner part of your ear that felt like a tickle. You looked up, eyes wide. “I’ll call you.” 

You grinned. “You better.” You could feel his gaze, hot on your back, as you made your way back to the table where Phoenix was now alone. 

“That took ages. What was the hold up?” 

You looked back at the bar. Liam held up his drink with a wink. You turned back to Phoenix, taking a sip of your tequila soda. “Nothing. Just some guy.” 

“Some guy, huh? Any potential?” 

You snuck one last look at the bar. Liam’s spot was empty. You turned back to Phoenix and shrugged. “Probably not.” 

***

“You can’t seriously think this looks good.” 

Coyote walked out of the fitting room in a pair of green chinos and a quarter zip sweater layered over a white shirt. You stood up from the chair and reached for his collar, fussing with it as he grimaced. 

“Y/N,” he groaned. 

“Stop fidgeting,” you snapped. He dropped his hands to his sides and you gripped his shoulders, pivoting him toward the three-pane mirror. “You’re insane, this looks perfect.” 

“I feel like a Ken doll.” 

You opened your mouth to respond as an older woman appeared behind the two of you. “Aren’t you two a lovely couple!” 

Coyote’s face in the mirror transformed into a sigh. It wasn’t the first or third or tenth time someone had mistaken the two of you for a couple. Sometimes it was hard not to. Whether it was picking out new clothes at a J. Crew or Christmas tree shopping in Oakland or late at night at the bar, his arm slipped around the back of your chair, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“Oh we’re not together,” you replied after a moment. 

The lady frowned. “Why not?” 

You looked up at Coyote. Why not was a good question. He was everything you wanted in a partner. Strong and stable and kind. He could predict your needs based on your mood and he wanted the very best for you. 

Coyote smiled down at you. You grinned at him. Why not was only for you two to know. 

***

“Fuck!” 

You slammed back against the mattress, chest heaving, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin from where you laid naked in Jake’s bed. He looked over at you with a smirk. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groaned, slapping one hand over your eyes, blocking him out. 

Jake laughed, one hand squeezing your thigh. His grip was tight and familiar. “You love it,” he replied, rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of boxers. “Want some pizza? I have some in the fridge.” 

“Yeah, sure.” As Jake rounded the corner into the kitchen you reached for your phone on the nightstand, a voicemail from an unknown number blinking on the homepage. Frowning, you clicked on it. 

Hi Y/N, this is Liam, from Tostado’s bar. What are you doing on Wednesday night? I’d really like to see you again. And I still owe you that drink. Call me when you can. Talk soon.

Jake returned with a box of pizza and two beer bottles wedged between his fingers on one hand. “Everything OK?” 

You smiled, sliding the phone face-down onto the table. “Yeah, everything’s great.” 

***

“Tell me again who this is?” Coyote pinched a french fry between his fingers and popped it into his mouth. 

“His name is Liam, we met at a bar last weekend.”

“And how do we know Liam isn’t a serial killer?” 

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your drink, leaning back into the plush seat of the restaurant booth. “Javy, are we really going to do this again?” 

He sighed. “I just worry about you.” 

“I know you do. But I’m a big girl. And besides, don’t you want me to find someone?” 

“Of course I do.” It was a thin whisper. 

“What did I miss?” Jake slid into the seat to your left, immediately reaching for his beer. 

“Y/N has a date tomorrow,” Coyote said. 

Jake’s eyebrow shot up. “Is that so? What’s his red flag?” 

“He has none.” 

Jake laughed but it sounded empty. “Sounds like bullshit to me. They all have red flags.”

“Just because you date teeny boppers with the emotional intelligence of an eraser doesn’t mean I do, too.” 

“Not my fault you pick the biggest losers on the planet to date in a city that’s literally chock full of startup geniuses.”

Coyote watched with wide eyes as you and Jake laid into each other. Your face was practically red. After a pause you leaned back and shook your head. “New subject. Has anyone seen Bradley’s new motorcycle?” 

Jake launched into a full rundown of the specs of Bradley’s new bike. You finished your pasta, nodding in rapt attention, but the heat of Coyote’s gaze was undeniable. At one point, you looked up to catch him staring at you, head tipped, like he was solving a puzzle. You smiled, and he did, too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. You turned back to Jake, trying to ignore the pinch in your stomach. 

***

The wind rippled through your hair as Liam returned from the bar with two drinks. He smiled broadly, lips spread back but still closed. You held out a hand, wrapping it around the plastic cup. “Thanks.” 

Liam took his place next to you near the boat railing, the water splashing high on the sides. “Is this what you had in mind for a first date?” 

You shook your head. When he had first suggested the two of you take a nighttime tour of Alcatraz you had been surprised. But it turned out to be monumentally more fun than you had imagined. You’d worn the complete wrong type of shoe — a pair of stiletto boots — and on your way back down the side of the hill to the ferry boat you had stumbled and Liam caught you. His arms were solid and strong and to your shock he crouched down. 

“Get on.”

You had hopped onto his back, and he carried you down the side of the hill, all the way onto the boat. He set you down gently, hands caressing your thighs carefully. You could still feel the mark of his fingertips on your skin when he was inside getting drinks. 

“Well?” Liam asked, taking a sip of his margarita. “You up for one last adventure?” 

You smiled. “Another surprise?” 

“One more,” he promised. “Or if you’re desperate to get off this boat with me I can call you an Uber the second we get to the Ferry Building.” 

“Not at all.” 

“Good.” This time, he flashed his pearly white teeth. “Do you eat meat?” 

Twenty minutes later, you and Liam were squished in a small booth in a restaurant in Chinatown with a vast spread of food on the rickety table in front of you: pork dumplings, half of a roasted duck, fluffy buns filled with red bean paste, shrimp shumai. 

You stabbed a dumpling with your chopsticks, plopping it into your mouth. 

“That’s so good.” 

Liam’s knee knocked against yours as you reached for another bun. “Have you been to China?” 

“Never. But it’s on my list.” 

“I spent two years there teaching English,” he said, taking a sip of beer in-between words. “Unreal experience.” 

“I’m jealous,” you said. “I’ve only ever lived here and LA, where I grew up.” 

“What made you leave LA?” 

“My best friend,” you replied, lifting the neck of the beer bottle to your lips. “He got a job out here after graduation and said it was the best place ever. We both kind of needed a change of place, to get away from where we were from.”

“San Francisco is the greatest escape,” Liam said, “and it’s a vacuum, sucking you in, all at once.” Even though it was dark, you understood what he meant. There was something about the city that called to you. When it was night and the streets were practically empty. Something overwhelming when the fog finally broke and you could see for miles across the abundant hills. San Francisco was more of a home to you than LA ever would be. It was your escape, but it was also your Hotel California. You could show up anytime, but you would never leave. 

“What do you do?” you asked, leaning forward, one ankle brushing over his calf. Liam’s hand dangled off the back of the red booth, fingertips dancing lightly on your shoulder. 

“I’m a publisher.” 

“Books?” 

He nodded. “I’m here for six months. A kind of sabbatical.” 

You frowned. “Six months? Then where are you going?” “Back to New York.” You sucked in a breath. “I live in the East Village, off Eleventh Street.” 

“New York,” you breathed. “I’ve never been.” 

“It’s different than here,” Liam replied. “This has the better Chinatown.” 

You smiled. “What do you like better?” 

“Neither one is better,” Liam said, his voice graveley and deep. You felt his fingers brush gently over your shoulder, and you unconsciously nudged closer. “Coffee in New York. Mexican food here. People in New York are ruder, but genuine. People here are California kind — pleasant, but hollow. I like being close to the water. But New York has bagels and there’s so much more life at three in the morning.” He paused. “Besides, you’re here. So that’s an automatic win for San Francisco.” 

Under the flickering fluorescent light of the Chinese restaurant, you looked up at Liam. For the first time in a long time, you felt it. That spark. That small piece of chemistry every romcom, every romance book, every person who had been in a committed relationship said was the start. The one little ember that would ignite and start a whole forest fire. And despite all of the noise, the shouting and the clamoring and the sound of dishes smacking against linoleum tables and chairs screeching as they got pulled back on the sticky tile floor, for a moment in time it was just you and Liam sitting next to each other in silence, your smile reflected on his face, his fingertips warm against your shoulder. 

Outside, the air was chilly. You winced as the two of you stepped into the street, your feet aching in the heeled boots. “Wait here,” Liam said, ducking into the store next to the restaurant the two of you had emerged from. He returned a few minutes later, holding out a pair of red silky slippers and you laughed as he bent down, unzipping your boots carefully, sliding the slippers on. You sighed in relief, heels hitting the ground for the first time all night. 

“I can hold those,” you said, reaching out for the boots. 

He straightened up, towering over you, and shook his head. “I’ll carry them for you.” 

Liam’s hand found yours as the two of you walked down Grant Street. There was something calm about him. Sturdy. As you rounded the corner onto Market Street, your gaze flickered up at him. 

“When can I see you again?” he asked, voice melting into the wind that whipped down the street, blanketing the two of you in a chill. 

“I’m free on Friday.” 

He grinned. “Friday then.” Liam pulled out his phone as a black sedan pulled up next to the curb. “I ordered you an Uber Black to take you home.” Liam stepped forward, opening the door. You lingered for a moment, your right hip brushing against his. 

“Goodnight,” you whispered. For once, you wanted him to kiss you. It wasn’t a reluctant end of the night forced event. It wasn’t out of pity or to cut the date short. It wasn’t because you felt like you owed him for a drink, a dinner, a ride. You wanted him to kiss you. 

So when he leaned down, one hand cupping your cheek, you sucked in a breath, his lips landing on yours, soft and pillowy, the pine scent of his musk overwhelming your senses as he pressed closer, his thumb sinking gently into the soft skin behind your ear as you opened your lips, letting him in. And when he pulled away, you were breathless. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Liam murmured, taking your hand, helping you down into the leather backseat of the car, placing your discarded boots down at your side. 

You watched him fade into the dark as the car pulled away, headed west, your lips still bruised with the thought of him. 

You were so caught up that you didn’t feel your phone buzz in your purse, Jake’s text sitting unread. 

How was the date? I have tequila. 

*** 

You and Jake had agreed early on that you’d keep your relationship, or whatever you could call it, a secret from the group. Not only would Coyote flip, but it would create another layer that would inevitably create fissures if and when things went to shit with the two of you. Which, taking into account both of your dating histories, was practically inevitable. 

Only once had you come close to exposing yourselves. 

It was Bob’s birthday party, which had started at a restaurant in the Mission and ended at a rooftop in Cow Hollow. Jake had struck out early in the night with two different blondes, first at the restaurant and then at the second bar. You had early success chatting with a guy from the first bar, but by the time you got to the rooftop he confessed he lived with his mother and sometimes slept in her bed. 

“Ew,” you shuddered, taking a shot, physically shaking away the ick that had crawled under your skin the moment he said that. 

“What happened Stink? Strike out?” 

You glared at Jake. “Fuck off.” 

He tipped one of the small shot glasses down his throat and winced. “So did I.” Jake leaned in closer, his hand brushing against your low back. You felt a tickle of excitement creep up your thighs. “Want to get out of here?” 

“We can’t, it’s Bob’s birthday. Someone will see.” 

“You leave first, I’ll wait five minutes and follow. Your apartment is just ten minutes away.” 

You looked up at Jake. He had stepped closer, his thumb hooked against the waistband of your shorts, the edges of his hair stuck to his golden skin from the sweat. It was hot, July, and the evening breeze that usually chilled San Francisco was nowhere to be found. And yet, somehow all you wanted was to be rolling around with Jake in a mess of sweaty limbs. “You’re desperate for me, huh?” you whispered. 

Jake rolled his eyes and you smirked. Just as you were about to pull away, head for the door, you straightened your glance. Phoenix had her eyes trained on you across the room. Quickly, you sidestepped away from Jake, his fingertips falling from your waist. “What?” he asked, loudly. Too loudly. 

“Shh,” you hissed under your breath, taking another definitive step away from Jake and jutting your chin out toward Phoenix. Jake looked up, catching Natasha’s eyes, and then grunted. 

“Fuck.” 

“You’re an idiot,” you said, pushing him out of the way, trying to cut across the room toward Phoenix to explain. 

“Wait, Y/N.” Jake grabbed your wrist. 

You turned back, thrashing out of his grip. “Jake. Let go of me.” Your eyes burned into his and he opened his fingers, letting your wrist slide away, out of his grasp. “You better hope she doesn’t suspect anything.” 

By the time you made your way across the rooftop to Phoenix she was pounding another drink, the memory of you and Jake cozy near the railing a distant memory. But that didn’t stop the tiny little voice in the back of your head that said you two were ticking time bomb. That sooner or later, one of you would make a mistake. And it wouldn’t just be your pseudo-relationship on the line. It would be all of your friendships, too. 

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[canonsinthehead]

gosh i love these posts so much like yes more naruto brainrot please! can i ask whats the most fashionable village?

so here i am a decade later...

KONOHA :

  • Obviously, the most fashionable. The land of the free. Konoha is the most flexible and allows its residents to express themselves. They believe diversity is a strength so that’s why they allow uniforms to be modified and adjusted to the person’s will. Matter of fact uniform are rare even in high schools.

  • Male street fashion (most teen/young adult men dresses with the print design "Supreme Logo" shirt + sweatpants baggy uniform.

  • But no one wants to be a background characters (fashion main character syndrome)

  • it’s common for many to get new full outfits for each graduation, events or occasions. (over consumption)

  • Konoha is known for their craft when it comes to jackets (jeans & leather) and windbreaker. Idk how they make them but they are indestructible.

  • Trends thief. Everything is a trend in Konoha. They love to take things here & there, call it something else and make it another trend (do you see the pattern? It’s the same for the food…) An example : Kiri’s People of the Night/Red Light District women fashion has been recycled as night club wear in Konoha.

  • For some reason, pregnancy fashion is ass. It’s the same 4 dresses, skirts & aprons in a kabillion pastel colours.

KIRI:

  • WIFE BEATER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD.

  • Personal sense of style is associated with confidence (and the boldness of breaking the law)

  • Using fashion to flunk your wealth is heavy in the country of Water (think of the Yakuza and Congolese Dandies)

  • Depending on the regions, kimono is huge. Belts/obi and hair decorations for it can be insanely expensive and often made of silk and precious stones.

  • “Look at this lascivious whore! Her ankles are showing!” but “Real men are visuals and want to feast their eyes on a women’s beauty body”

  • Fashion always hold a lot of political power (past and present. Those who rebelled against the oppressive regime dressed against the dress code and purposelessly wore flashy/elaborate outfits. Also women wore pants or disguise themselves as men to escape oppression.

  • The country of Water produce most of the world’s silk. It is a national pride because it ties back to the leader of the Yuki Clan, Aizawa-han Yuki (Haku’s ancestor and historical figure). Regardless the forceful dismantlement of his clan, he was and still is considered a fashion icon. The traditional attires of the Yuki clan was adorned with silver jewelry and nature inspired decorations. After the coup that led to his demise, a lot of archives and photography were properly restored so his influence can be felt till this day. We’ll come back to him later as we dive into the geography and history of the country of water.

SUNA:

  • Fashion show capital of the world. The largest fashion runway shows are organized there. It's a huge contrast to the modest monochrome/tan/beige/brown aesthetic of the citizens’ everyday life

  • There is a preference for quality fabric and new found love for niche luxury items. Suna developped a profound foundness for its local designers and artisans.

  • BAGS, HANDBAGS, WALLETS, SUITCASES. The most classy and/or expensive bags are from the country of Wind, since in general its popular gravitates towards simpler designs either for everyday life or specials occasion. The better the quality, the more it signal higher social class.

  • Glass jewellery is also a huge industry because of the unlimited access to sand. It is cheap to produce and pretty.  Its an industry more catered towards outsiders and the country is making BANDS of it. So, the earthy girl you met back in Konoha with a pound worth of “healing crystals” around her neck and ankles claiming their super powers bought most of them from a street vendors in Suna’s main street (its overpriced junk).

  • Big on modest fashion + luxury accessories.

  • Suna makes the best leather shoes especially boots.

[cardierreh15]

Knight in Shining Leather

I do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warning 18+: Violence , Cursing , Attempted SA , Blood , Gore .

Pairing: Geralt Of Rivia(modern) x Nessa (Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: Geralt being a knight in shining armor.

Word Count: 2.2K

One shot

It was a beautiful autumn night. The night’s air smelled of cinnamon and pumpkin. With it being just cool enough for her to wear a cardigan over her shoulders. Pretty soon, she would get too warm to even rock it.

It was roughly 9:45pm and she had come from a night out with the girls. Her best friend insisted that she drive her home since she stayed so close by. But Nessa was too hardheaded to let her do that. Besides, the walk wasn’t even 20 minutes away.

But a lot can happen in 20 minutes can it?

Her thick heeled boots clicked loudly on the asphalt, echoing throughout the street and bouncing off of the other buildings. She lived in a small town, so it was no surprise that almost everyone was in the house by now.

Nessa had her hands tucked in her pockets, at this point walking absentmindedly. She didn’t even realize there were two men walking about a few yards behind her. She didn’t think much of it, perhaps they were trying to make it to their destination too.

But their footsteps grew a little impatient.

This caused her to take further strides; holding her purse tightly in her arm as she tried to sneak her hand into it to retrieve her pepper spray.

‘Get her!’ One of the males exclaimed.

A panicked gasp escaped her lips as she did her best to take off but they were close enough to snatch her up by her cardigan. ‘HELP!’ She exclaimed before a man placed his large hand over her mouth and held a butterfly blade against her face. ‘Shhhh, shhh. Now, just be a good girl.’ He whispered against her ear.

She then bit down into his fingers and stepped on his foot. The criminal yelped out in agonizing pain.

‘Fuck you!’ She exclaimed before she was instantly grabbed by another male.

‘Get the bitch into the alley!’

‘No! No! Stop!’ Nessa begged and pleaded as she tried her best to fight back. But they weren’t having it.

They slammed her against the wall and she whimpered out in pain. ‘Urgh!’ She fell to her hands and knees. ‘Please— take whatever I have… it’s all material— I don’t want it! Please.’ She insisted, sobbing as she held her chest.

The bald headed guy began to dump out all of the contents in her purse and searched through it. ‘Awww, the bitch ain’t got nothin’. Lipstick, tampons, some other make up, — a wallet…’ he then looked at her name and then started going through her wallet where he snatched out $500. ‘I found a jackpot…’ then he walked over to the the ginger haired gentleman who towered above her.

‘How much ya find?’

‘$500. And It’s a Chanel wallet, taking that too.’ The male chuckled.

Nessa was on her knees before them as if she were praying to her God. Her hands shook as if her bones were chilling in the Arctic.

‘Nice,’ the ginger chuckled as the bald guy passed him some cash. ‘Now, the question is… what do we do with you?’

‘Hmmm. She’s pretty cute. She’s thicker than the rest of em. And you know I looove when they fight.’ He said as he shoved the wallet and the cash in his back pocket.

She instantly knew what baldy meant, and it caused her to panic a bit more. Until suddenly, the ginger just happened to step out of the way, and the bright LED street light caused a thick shard of glass to glisten in her eye.

Carefully leaning down as the two men bickered about who were going to have their turn with her first, she then grabbed the glass in her hand and waited.

The ginger sighed and rolled his eyes, ‘whatever. Fuck it. I’ll hold her still.’ He then squat down before her, ‘Alright sweet heart, you’re gonna—‘

Nessa instantly swiped the glass upward, aiming to stab him beneath his chin but instead, slicing his cheek.

‘AUGH!’ He practically jumped back; feeling the stinging pain at his cheek. Ginger grabbed the gasp and looked at the bright red blood in his palm. ‘You fucking bitch!’

His partner instantly brought her up to her feet, disarmed her and slapped her across her face so hard, he split the inside of her cheek.

She fell to the ground, her mind spinning as if she had swallowed a whole bottle of tequila. She could only hear the sound of their voices. They were so loud in her ears.

‘Kill that bitch! Kill her!’

She didn’t even know who was saying, all she knew was that she was pretty sure she was going to die in this filthy ass alley. And it would probably take her loved ones days to find her knowing these fools.

The ginger some how had the strength to pull her up to her feet. ‘You fucking— BITCH!’ And he kneed her in the stomach before she fell back down to the ground again. He kicked her, several times in the ribs.

Nessa whimpered out, choking on the air that was fighting so hard to come into her lungs. She lifted her hand up, in a “I surrender” kind of way, ‘please. Stop.’ She was too weak to scream for hell at this point.

‘Stop? Haha… oh wait til we’re done with you… get her up.’ Ginger said to Baldy.

Suddenly, everything felt like it was moving much slower than she was. Between the two antagonists, was a pair of bright golden eyes that reflected in the shadows. She thought she was hallucinating so she just laid there, accepting her fate that was to come.

When Baldy lifted her up to her feet, her head rest back against the brick wall. ‘Come on… make it quick.’ She breathed out tiredly.

Ginger chuckled and then Baldy chimed in. ‘Suit yourself.’

Suddenly, a bright flash whipped through the air like something out of a supernatural movie.

Nessa felt Baldy’s grip on her grow weaker and she noticed a thin line across his neck. A dribble of blood came leaking from his lips and his nose. She then noticed the sunken glare in his eyes.

His neck became a waterfall of his blood and a millisecond later, his head fell to wet the concrete and his body followed.

Nessa felt her stomach turn at the sight. She stumbled backwards in fear; immediately covering her lips to hold back the throw up that tried to fight its way out.

Ginger let out a scream as he saw his buddy’s head roll at his feet.

She felt too damn sick and scared to move really. Also, she couldn’t get over — how could someone be that talented with a blade that:

A.) No blood had spilled on her.

And

B.) None of them were able to see or hear him coming.

Ginger instantly pulled his gun out and walked over towards Nessa. ‘Whose there!? Come out!’ He snatched her up and pointed the gun at her head. ‘Come out! Or I swear to God, I will blow this bitch’s brains out!’

‘Please—‘ she started as she held her hands up.

‘SHUT UP!’ Ginger yelled as he looked all around. ‘Alright,’ he then clicked off the safety, ‘I’ll give you to the count of 3… come out— with your hands up… and I won’t kill her…’

‘Why would you think they’d come out for me?! I-I don’t even know what’s going on!’ She said out as she wiped her bloodied nose.

‘Shut. The fuck. Up. I swear you’re making this so much easier!’ He said as he continued to look around, ‘ONE! …. TWO!….’ He pressed the barrel against the back of her skull.

On three, a white haired male stepped from out of the shadows; those damn golden eyes making an appearance before he did. He wore black leather, and held a huge sword in his right hand. He had a scowl on his face that could kill instantly.

Ginger’s mouth fell slightly as he watched the tall, unearthly being approach the both of them. He stepped back, ‘Y—you… it can’t be. B-BACK UP!’

He just kept walking towards them. The sound of metal clinked with each step.

Ginger had finally hit the wall and Nessa looked back at the both of them.

‘Y—you’re dead! Y-you’re suppose to be dead!’

‘Says who?’ The white haired male asked, ‘You?’ His head fell to the side. Then he looked behind him, noticing the women who still stood there. He then looked back towards Ginger, ‘Go ahead… shoot her.’

Nessa’s eyebrows tugged into one in confusion. She wanted to impose on this reunion but she was hurting too bad to talk.

Ginger’s bottom lip trembled as much as his wrist did when he held that gun.

‘Go ahead…’

Ginger swallowed his spit, glancing over at the beautiful woman. He just didn’t have the guts.

The white haired male let out a sigh, ‘I knew it,’ and stabbed Ginger in his abdomen with the shiny sword.

Ginger began to choke. Wheezing as if he’d punctured his lung.

Nessa let out a harsh gasp and covered her lips in shock.

‘You’re… a coward.’ He twisted the blade to open the gaping wound more, ‘You pray on the weak… women and children… you and your friend don’t deserve to breathe for another second.’

He then snatched out the sword from Ginger’s abdomen and the male fell forward.

Nessa just stood in her spot, watching the man who just tried to kill her moments before, choke on his own blood and eventually took his last breath as the rest of him seeped into the cracks and crannies of the destroyed asphalt.

She was too frightened to scream, to run but also… her body was riddled with pain. Anything extreme would’ve probably caused her to pass out. So instead she asked, ‘A-are you gonna kill me next?’

The being then pulled out a dark cloth and wiped his shiny sword off in one swipe, ‘If I wanted … you’d be dead already.’

Well that was quite evident. She took in a deep breath as she just watched him sheath his sword and bend down to go in Ginger’s pocket.

She peaked over, ‘… he-he said you were suppose to be dead… are you like someone important?’

He didn’t say anything, instead he retrieved her money from the corpse and then ventured to the next.

‘Could I at least— know your name?’ She asked as she began to pick up her purse and the rest of her belongings. ‘You did save me after all, I would like to know who you are… In case I don’t ever see you again.’

He smirked as he grabbed her wallet out of the headless corpse and looked at her ID. She had a glorious smile. A smile that could turn any rainy day into sunshine.

Vanessa Hodge, December 18th, 1997, Address…

He took a mental note of her address before slowly rising to his feet and walked over to her.

She looked from his hands to his chest, that donned a silver necklace with a wolf engraved in it. She wondered what that meant.

‘Here,’ His voice brought her out of her thinking trance, ‘Your things.’ He looked down at her as she rose to her feet and threw her purse over her shoulder.

‘Thank you.’ She said softly before wincing at the pain in her cheek.

He lifted her chin to examine her.

Nessa hissed at the sudden, searing pain.

‘They most certainly did a number on you…’ he said as he looked at her split eyebrow. ‘Come. Let’s get you fixed up.’

‘Alright… only— if you do me a tiny favor?’

‘Hmm.’ A mere stranger, asking him for favors? He wasn’t the type to be handing those out. Especially without pay.

Yeah, she had no idea who he was.

‘You tell me your name…’

Was that it? She wanted to know his name? She almost got taken advantage of, got her shit pushed in and almost got her brains blown out but — she wanted to know his name?

‘I-I think it’s fair… I’d like to know who my knight in … shiny leather is.’

It grew quiet once more before he rested his hand on the handle of his sword and lifted his head with a gentle smirk.

‘I mean I think it’s also fair because you’re still a complete stranger and—‘

‘For someone who is in a lot of pain, you sure do talk a lot.’ He said as he shifted his weight and folded his massive arms across his chest.

Nessa felt the heat rise to her neck, her cheeks and then her ears. She looked off to the side, trying to avoid eye contact for a moment.

God you’re gonna blow this.

‘My name is Geralt. Now, if that is all you request, we should leave now.’

She let out a gentle puff of air and quickly walked towards him, ‘Lead the way.’ She shrugged.

Geralt swiftly turned around and they headed in the direction Nessa was heading.

‘So, you’re gonna tell me what you do and why you walk around with those things?’ She asked; swiping her dainty manicured finger at his silver handle.

‘No.’ He mused

‘And— Please don’t touch the swords.’ He said, hearing the cling that she left behind with her touch.

‘Oh— sorry.’

[lksvi]

all we are is skin and bone (trained to get along)

𝆹⭒ vendetta!leon kennedy x bartender!gn!reader

⏜ ‎ ◯𝆹⭒ synopsis — your favorite regular has more to him than you thought. after getting involved, you go through a series of events.

𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ content — flirty leon at the beginning, vendetta leon is my favorite, alcoholism, motorcycle rider leon, reader gets referred to as bridesmaid/wears a bridesmaids dress for one scene, rebecca chambers my beloved, follows the plot of re: vendetta, probably has plot holes, not proofread, chris redfield, mostly plot, mentions of death

⏜ ‎ ◯𝆹⭒ word count — 7k

𝆹⭒◯ ⏜ note — i love vendetta leon!!!!! he is the best leon idc. he may be 40 & an alcoholic but idc HES HOT!!!! ok enjoy 7k words of plot. there might be a part 2 if this does good. also the summary is literally terrible pls ignore. also x2 my first time writing for leon please be nice <3333

𝆹⭒ masterlist

Usual Saturday nights consisted of beer, drunk men, and the football channel turned to the maximum volume on the little television in the corner of the bar. The customers demanded for football to be on whenever it was late at night, one too many beers causing their yelling to be slurred and their mouths to be slicked with spit. It was a gross sight, in all honesty.

It was your normal, though. Saturday nights were when you worked at the bar, mixing drinks and making conversation with drunk customers. They were nice when they’re yelling at you. Some made good conversation, while others were simply good to look at.

One of those being a regular at your bar, a man who goes by Leon.

He’s one of the people you notice whenever you come in for your shift. He always sits at the bar by himself, a shot glass in front of him and his back hunched over. He’s attractive, admittedly so, but you’ve never spoken to him beyond the regular bartender-customer conversation. He doesn’t seem to be a man of many words anyhow.

Hearing him talk was rare. Since he was a regular, and got the same bottle of alcohol every time he came in, all of the bartenders knew to give it to him when he sat down. He always had a way to pay for it: A sleek black card in his leather wallet. Often you wondered how he got all the money to pay for this every night. Spending nearly a hundred dollars on alcohol every night didn’t seem to be making a dent in his credit card.

You’d have to ask him what he does for a living.

“Hey, sweet cheeks!” A drunk man at the bar slurred, eyes hazy and a lopsided grin on his face. “Gimme another shot, will ya’?” You wanted nothing more than to scold him on his lack of manners, but you were past that already. You’ve had worse encounters with customers than a lack of manners, unfortunately. “No problem, sir,” You answered smoothly, a charming grin on your glossed lips.

You got him another shot, returning to your lazy lounging behind the bar. You enjoyed watching the customers, observing what they did and how they acted. Most of them were drunk, but it only added to your entertainment. After all, good entertainment is the key to not quitting your job. Not including the fact that rent was due every month.

Speaking of entertainment, Leon should be coming in…

The bell rang as the door opened.

… right about now.

Exactly on time. You couldn’t help but let a small smile curl on your lips, easily predicting the exact time Leon would walk in. He’s been coming here for a while, after all.

“Good evening, Mr. Leon,” You greeted as you set down the bottle of alcohol, pouring him a shot. “Doin’ fine today?” Despite his real lack of talking, you still found yourself attempting to converse with him. He interested you. Everything from his attitude to his alcoholism to his seemingly endless credit card.

He didn’t answer you for a good moment, letting out a grunt as he downed the shot, wiping the excess liquor off with the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Peachy,” He answered, not looking you in the eyes. You didn’t mind. You poured him another shot, sliding the shot glass to you.

Leon finally looked up at you, steel-blue irises meeting yours. A shock went up your spine, your body shivering as you stared into his eyes. Some magnetizing force refused to let you look away, keeping your eyes on him until you were called over by another customer. Even then, you had to tear your gaze away, clearing your throat as you attended to the other customer.

What was that?

You’ve never had that type of connection before. An electric spark that only you two could feel. It felt odd, the effects lingering in your spin, sending zaps of electricity to your neurons. They seemed to be working in overdrive, making everything a little too sensitive. The wooden counter brushing against your skin felt rougher than usual and you could feel your feet ache, a dull sensation that made you bite your lip.

The rest of the night went on without many complaints. You mixed drinks, tried hard to not look at Leon, and made conversation with customers. It was a nice night, overall. However, as the late hours rolled around and the lights dimmed, the rowdy yelling morphing into a hushed murmur among the crowd.

All the while, you could feel Leon’s gaze on you. You didn’t look, knowing you’d be pulled into that magnetizing force again, not wanting to be stuck. It was odd considering you’ve never had a full conversation with him. Maybe it was a figment of your imagination, you being weird to a man who wanted nothing to do with you.

But if he wanted nothing to do with you, then why could you feel his gaze stuck on you, watching you like a predator stalking its prey?

—

It started getting slow at around three in the morning, yet Leon stayed no matter how late it got. He had finished an entire bottle now, sitting at the bar drunk. You were sure that he reeked of alcohol.

Despite whatever happened between the two of you earlier, you were still drawn to him. You wanted to make conversation with him, to hear that smooth and rough all at the same time voice respond to you.

“Here late again, aren’t you, Mr. Leon?” You asked, a brow raised as you cleaned the glasses. He looked up at you as you spoke, eyes squinting against the overhead light. His eyes were half-lidded, cheeks red and flushed. His arms crossed over each other on the bar where his head was laying a moment ago.

Leon grumbled at your words, his voice thick with alcohol, but replied anyway. “As always,” He said, eyes darting to you. He focused his gaze on you, and again, you felt as if you were being sucked into a black hole. There was something pulling about his gaze, deep sea blues enticing you. Your eyes darted to his lips, nude-colored and somewhat chapped, before quickly flicking back up to his eyes. Why did you even do that?

Once you dried your hands off, you leaned against the bar, head tilted as you looked at Leon. “You done for the night, Mr. Leon?” You asked, ready to take the empty beer bottle, but he simply grunted. He didn’t answer for a moment, silence falling over the bar, save for the hushed murmur of conversation in the corner. Right now, it was only you and Leon.

You couldn’t tell if you liked the idea of that or not. For now, you chose to enjoy it.

Without looking up at you, Leon grumbled a response. “Jus’ Leon s’fine,” He said, surprising you. He never really spoke besides answering your questions, so an actual conversation starter coming from him was surprising. Not hated, however.

“Alright, Leon,” You said. You tried to hide how giddy you were, feeling as if you’ve got somewhere. “Are you done with that bottle?” You needed to know if you could throw it out yet. You were tired of seeing an empty bottle on the counter. With a grunt and a nod, Leon gave you permission, eliciting a smile from you as you took the empty bottle. You hummed as you threw it away, feeling his eyes laser holes into the back of your head.

You turned back around to see him staring at you, the flush on his cheeks red from alcohol. He seemed to know how to handle his liquor, though. “Can I ask you a question, Leon?” You asked, leaning against the bar, your hands near his elbow. You wondered if he was naturally a warm or cold person (a dumb thought, in all honesty– You were curious, however).

After he nodded, you continued with your question. “What do you do for work?” He wasn’t expecting that question, eyebrows pinching together, but you continued with an explanation. “I mean, you come here practically every night and pay, probably, thousands every couple weeks. The fact that your card hasn’t declined yet is… insane.”

He seemed to not like to be reminded of his job. His shoulders slumped and his eyes glazed over, staring off into the distance, but you couldn’t help but be curious. After a few moments of silence, and anxiety brewing in the pit of your stomach, he finally spoke up. “I work for the government.” His response was vague, but you could tell that he didn’t want you to press anymore.

Still, you were curious about him. You wanted to know more about him. “Were you raised in Colorado?” You asked, but he merely arched a brow at you. He looked annoyed, lips curled into a sneer. “What is this, twenty-one questions?” Immediately, you felt as if you had overstepped your boundaries, spikes of your anxious nerves pricking your skin, making you stand upright.

“I’m so sorry–”

“I get to ask you a question before you ask me one. Is that not how twenty-one questions work?”

Your eyes widened at his words, yet went along with them. You leaned back against the counter, ignoring the anxious pin pricking of nerves. “I guess it is,” You said, a small smile curling on your lips. “What is it you wanna ask?”

A moment of silence hovers over you two, not doing anything to soothe your rapidly-firing neurons. “Let’s see, [Name],” He starts. The way your name rolls off his tongue makes you suppress a shiver, not daring to break eye contact with him. “How long have you been working here?”

You hum in thought, biting your lip as you think. “For a few years now,” You answered, noticing the way his gaze quickly flickered back up to your eyes. Interesting. “Let’s see…” You take a moment to think. “You have somewhere to be in the morning, Leon?”

He seems surprised by the question, the corner of his lip curling upwards. “Not anywhere important, sweetheart,” Leon answers. “There a reason you’re askin’?” The unexpected pet name gets a rise out of you, cheeks flushing. Leon’s observant– Able to tell your reactions better than you can. You’re awfully easy to fluster.

“I have a shift in the morning,” You tell him, smiling sweetly. “If you want to swing by, I might be happy to serve you.”

Leon chuckles. He gets up, pushing the empty shot glass towards you, flashing a grin. “I’ll be there, dollface.”

With that, he sets down a few hundred dollars on the counter, turning on his heel. He waves a hand towards you. “Keep the change!” Typically, when people say that it’s only a few cents extra, but this time it’s a couple hundred extra.

After realizing this, you go to say something, but he’s already gone.

—

The next day comes slower than you’d like. Each time the door opens, your gaze flickers to it, hoping to see Leon. Yet, every time, it isn’t Leon. Time passes slowly, the hands on the clock taunting you, until finally, watching the door pays off.

You sigh, your chin on your hand as you stare at the door. What an interesting guy.

You straighten up as Leon walks in, immediately grinning at the sight of him. “Well, well, well, look who it is!” You said, noticing the playful tug at his lips. “If it isn’t Leon. Came back early, did ya’?” You were teasing him.

“Only ‘cause ya’ asked me to, doll,” Leon replied, taking a seat at the bar, arms folded in front of him. You hand him a bottle of his usual alcohol and an empty shot glass. You don’t know if he wants to drink, but it isn’t long before he’s taking a shot. “So, what’s the reason for this meeting?”

You shrug your shoulders, leaning back against the wall, a smile on your lips. “You’re an interesting guy, Leon,” You reply smoothly. “Just wanted to see if you had anything else interesting about you.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes, as if he knows something you don’t, finding your words amusing. “If only you knew.”

You don’t ask him what he means, but you can’t help but be curious. Maybe there’s something more to your favorite regular and all-time-mysterious-customer.

It’s slow in the mornings, allowing you and Leon to easily fall into quiet conversation. He’s surprisingly funny, cracking jokes that have you giggling behind the bar. All the other customers have left, leaving only you and Leon, chatting with each other to pass the time. He likes sarcasm, you’ve learned. Snarky responses, too.

There’s more to him than just a most-likely alcoholic and seemingly endless credit card.

It’s a few hours into your conversation with two people you’ve never seen before set foot into the bar. One of them is a big guy, tactical gear on his waist and chest, while the other is a much smaller woman with short hair. You’re about to speak up, but Leon beats you to it.

“Make sure not to scare the locals,” He says gruffly. “Your stealth is for shit.”

Your eyes flicker between the two, now standing behind Leon, and the latter, taking another shot of the alcohol. Noticing the tension, you quickly walk away, cleaning already-clean glasses to make yourself look busy. You try not to eavesdrop on their conversation, but you can’t help it. You’ve never seen anyone talk to Leon, and you’ve never seen the people talking to him, either.

“Isn’t it a little too early to be that deep in the bottle, Leon?” The big guy asks, arms crossed over his chest. You hear Leon’s scoff, see him turn towards the two out of the corner of your eye.

“Well, if it isn’t the B.S.A.A.’s golden boy and Dr. High Hopes!” There’s fake joy in his tone, melting into disdain when he turns back around. “What the hell do you want?”

The big guy glances at you before he says another word and you quickly take the hint. You scurry off to the back, consequently shielding your ears from their conversation. You pretend to be busy, but there’s really only one thing on your mind: Who are these people?

You’ve never seen them before, much less anyone talk to Leon. He’s always been a loner, isolating himself in the corner of the bar. It’s not your business though, as curious as you are.

Fifteen minutes pass without any complaints. You stay in the back, occasionally hearing the muffled conversation between the three. The big guy scared you, biceps the size of your head. You’d go out there if you weren’t afraid of him snapping your neck like a twig.

Within a few minutes, there’s yelling and shouting, a rough ‘thud!’ echoing off the walls. Your eyes widened, looking out the peephole of the door to spy on them. You see Leon holding a guy by the collar to a pillar in the bar, snarl on his lips and eyes glaring daggers. You’ve never seen him angry before. The big guy stands beside him, mouth moving in a question you desperately wish you could read. The woman doesn’t seem to be out there anymore.

Before you could go see what was going on, there’s a quiet noise behind you, curiosity getting the better of you. However, as soon as you turn your head, you’re met with a woman with blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and a succubus-esque leather outfit. Your attempts to say something are muffled by the cloth she forces up to your nose, instinctively inhaling.

Your eyes begin to droop, the back of the bar spinning. Your legs shake and you can barely feel her stopping you from falling on the wooden floor.

“Witness secured.”

Him and Chris duck behind a table, wood clattering onto the floor and debris tainting the bar. He always liked this bar.

She throws you over her shoulder. Your eyes fall shut, and everything fades out.

—

The bar gets shot up. Leon briefly thinks that he’ll pay for the damages.

As Chris peeks up, there’s a sense of urgency in his tone. “They have Rebecca!” He yells, then squints, as if trying to make something out. “And… the bartender?”

At that, Leon shoots up, looking past the table to see a woman with blond hair, holding Rebecca over one shoulder and you over the other. His breath hitches.

“Fuck,” He swears. “That’s [Name].”

You hardly even know him and you’ve gotten caught up in his work. He hates the feeling of defeat that washes over him, but it’s quickly replaced by seething anger. He won’t let anything happen to you. You don’t deserve that.

He and Chris will get you and Rebecca back.

“Why take the bartender?” Chris wondered aloud. Tires hit the worn down sand, dirt kicking up as it took off. “They weren’t involved in anything, were they?”

Leon had no clue as to why you were kidnapped. “Maybe they didn’t want any witnesses,” He muttered, standing up, surveying the debris. This would be hell to clean up. They couldn’t worry about that, though. Leon glanced down at the phone in his hand, one that wasn’t his, sighing angrily. “We need to figure out what they’re planning.” He holds the phone up to Chris. “Maybe this’ll help.”

With Rebecca’s laptop, a sample of her blood, and the cellphone, Leon and Chris devoted hours of their time to figure out what Glenn Arias’ plan was. The light reflecting off of Rebecca’s laptop and the cellphone, both of them had a headache. Still, they needed to push on. For Rebecca and [Name].

Finally, after discussing what Arias could’ve been planning, they figured it out: He was planning a bioterrorist attack on New York City using his new virus he had engineered. “Fuck,” Chris swore, scrolling on the laptop. “He isn’t planning to infect a few people…”

“He’s planning to infect the entire city.” Leon finished.

They both glanced at each other, and then at the laptop, the tank trunks mockingly staring back at them. Arias was planning possibly one of the biggest bioterrorist attacks the world’s ever seen.

Chris began calling the B.S.A.A., scheduling an airplane to take them to New York City, where they had also discovered where Arias’ base of operations was at. It would arrive within a few hours, and they wouldn’t get to New York until the next day.

Blearily, your eyes opened, the world around you emerged in a blur. There was a bright light, one you turned your head and squinted at, a low groan being pulled from your lips.

If Leon didn’t need a drink a few hours prior, he definitely did now.

—

Thick shackles held down your neck, wrists, torso, and ankles, keeping you pinned to the metal table. You attempted to move, but they were tight, keeping you in place. You cleared your throat, drawing the man’s attention back to you. There was a twinkle of something you couldn’t place in his eyes, one that made you want to pull yourself away from him.

It wasn’t until something– or someone– covered the fluorescent light did your vision finally adjust to the environment. A man with gray hair stood there, a calm smile on his face. “You’re awake,” He said, voice smooth, composed. “Apologies for having brought you here. You weren’t who I was trying to get.” His eyes flickered next to you, but you didn’t have enough freedom to look.

“Where am I?” You asked meekly. “Why am I here?” He sighed softly at your words, folding his hands behind his back. He seemed composed, as if all of this was normal. You were hardly keeping yourself together. If you weren’t unbelievably drowsy and held down, you’d be kicking and screaming. “I couldn’t have any witnesses,” He said. “You understand that, don’t you? However, I have to knock you out again. You woke up too early.” He motioned for what appeared to be a nurse step to the opposite side of the metal table, a surgical mask covering the lower half of his face and light blue scrubs adorning his frame. You tried to struggle, not wanting to be put back to sleep, but your efforts were futile. “Put ‘em to sleep again, will you, Doc?”

Despite your mumbled protests, a sharp pinch attacked your neck, and you were put to sleep again.

The next time you woke up, you were sitting up. It felt like a wooden chair, your attempted squirming causing the wood to creak under your movement. Your hands were tied behind your back, harsh rope rubbing into your wrists. Once your eyes adjusted to the scene before you, you were surprised to see a wedding.

A quick glance down told you that you were wearing a bridesmaid’s dress, flowy and long, reaching around your ankles. Your eyebrows pinched together, glancing around the rest of the room, quickly spotting the short haired woman that was around Leon and the big guy sitting beside you.

Unlike you, she was wearing a wedding dress, sporting the same confused expression you wore. As soon as she saw you, her confusion seemed to worsen, eyebrows furrowed as she stared at you. “Aren’t you the bartender?” She asked, to which you nodded. She gave a small huff in acknowledgement, looking around at what appeared to be a wedding ceremony. “Then… Why would he take you? Or either of us. This doesn’t make sense.”

You felt as if something big was happening– You don’t know what Leon was involved in, but you didn’t want to be involved either. “I don’t know what’s going on,” You said, flexing your wrists, testing the rope (again). “But I don’t want to be involved in this. I was just… talking to Leon.” A look of recognition flashed across her face, telling you she knew Leon personally. “He was only there because I told him to come that morning. He wasn’t even supposed to be there when you and the other guy walked in.”

You don’t know what you were trying to accomplish with your rant, but you needed to get it out. “Who even are you guys? I’ve never seen either of you before, and you just come in and start talking to Leon, and I’ve never seen anyone talk to Leon before but he seems to be involved in something and, apparently, now I am, too–”

“Breathe,” She cut you off. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out. “I’m Rebecca Chambers. I’m a professor at a University. The other guy is Chris Redfield. I’m sorry that you’re caught up in this now, none of us– Me, Leon, or Chris– meant for you to be involved. We needed Leon’s help with something and figured we’d see him there.”

Finally taking deep breaths, you calmed down a little. Your heart was still racing and you were anxious, head spinning with overwhelming thoughts, but Rebecca helped. Even if it was just a little.

“I’m [Name] [Last Name].”

Rebecca smiled. “Nice to meet you, [Name].”

Before either of you could speak, a door was opened, a harsh end to the peacefulness that was you and Rebecca’s first conversation. The man who spoke to you earlier was there, hands folded behind his back, and a smile on his face. “Good, you’re both awake.” He walked in, keeping an eye on you and Rebecca.

The silver-haired man begins speaking to Rebecca, telling her that her “cure is magnificent” and “you’re truly a genius.” You don’t know what they’re talking about, but Rebecca surely does. She glances at you, then back at the man.

“I already figured everything out, Arias. My blood was the key,” Rebecca says, narrowing her eyes at him. “I know that your virus lays dormant in people. There are three stages to your virus: The one that lays dormant, the trigger, and the vaccine.” She smirks, a smug twinkle in her eyes. “And I know how you infect people.”

Virus? Dormant? Infect? What the hell is she talking about?

Your gaze flickers between Rebecca and Arias, watching the latter grin at Rebecca. “You really are a genius,” He muses. “Tell me more. How do I infect people, Professor Chambers?” A mocking lilt is clear in his tone, but Rebecca pays no mind. She simply continues her speech.

“I noticed that you were concentrating your outbreaks near the Great Lakes. At first, I thought you were infecting the water in the Great Lakes,” Arias’ eyebrows raise, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. Rebecca continues. “But you weren’t doing it on purpose, were you? No, you were infecting the water of a drinking water company.”

All this talk of infecting and water confused you, but it seemed Arias knew exactly what she was talking about. “Congratulations,” He said, coming to untie her wrists. He unties yours as well.

“It’s called the Animality Virus, or the A-Virus for short,” Arias explains. “The difference between my merchandise and everyone else’s is that mine can tell the difference between friends and foes. Essentially, I can tell them who to attack. They’re not completely mindless.”

With every sentence, you were sure your brain was spilling out of your ears. Nothing they were saying made any sense to you. Rebecca, however, seemed upset at Arias’ words. And with each word he was saying, you could tell she wanted nothing more than to smack him across the face.

“The B.S.A.A. is ready to mass produce the cure! You may infect people, but we’ll be sure to give them the vaccine before you trigger it.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Professor.” Arias walks to the seat beside Rebecca, somehow still smiling. There’s a smug air about him “You were right: Your blood is the key. With your blood, I will be able to create a stronger virus.” He turns to the front of the room, eyes glazed over.

“Tomorrow will be a new world. Slowly, it will be stronger. Better.”

You notice Rebecca’s eyes widen at his words, but she doesn’t comment on them. Instead she looks around, eyebrows furrowed.

At the front of the room, there is a picture of four people projected on the wall. Arias, who appears younger; a young woman next to him; further from them stands a blonde woman; as well as a taller, older man behind her. The young woman next to Arias looks a lot like Rebecca.

“When that missile was shot at my wedding, it was meant to kill me.” A humorless chuckle leaves Arias. “However, it only killed everyone around me. Including my wife, Sarah.” He turns to look at Rebecca, a sad smile on his face. “You look a lot like her, Rebecca.”

Arias pulls a wedding ring out of his pocket, his smile turning sardonic. “That’s why I’m going to marry you, Rebecca. You’ll be a perfect model for my Sarah.” His eyes shift to you, pinning you in place like a bird in a cage. “And the witness will be your bridesmaid. I do need to kill them afterwards, but they will be present for our wedding.”

Your eyes go wide. Kill them afterwards?

The last thing you were going to notice would be a forced marriage between an insane guy and a woman who’s name you just learned.

You don’t want to die. You have so much to live for, so much to do. Dying simply because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time would be a horrible end. And you’re scared that there’s nothing you can do about it.

You are going to die. You can not stop it.

You don’t say anything as you sit there. You can hear Arias and Rebecca talking, but their voices are muffled, as if you are underwater. Your head is stuffed with cotton, keeping out any thoughts or questions.

You see Arias slap Rebecca across the face. She falls down, clutching her now-red cheek, staring up at Arias. You zone back in to see him opening a suitcase of some kind, cold air being exhaled as he opened it. What he pulls out is an arm. It’s pale and detached at the forearm. Bile rises to the back of your throat.

“Meet my wife, Sarah.” He smiles sickly, slipping the wedding ring on Sarah’s finger. “I know what I’ll do: I’ll sew her arm onto yours and then we’ll be wed.” He’s talking to Rebecca, who looks like she’s going to be sick as well.

Arias calls in two subordinates, breaking the projection of the wedding ceremony. “Take them to the lab,” He orders them. One goes to Rebecca, taking her by the arms, and the other goes to you and takes your arms in his grasp. “Infect both of them with the strongest forms of the virus. If it goes well, sew Sarah’s arm onto Rebecca.”

You and Rebecca share a glance, both of your eyes wide. Arguably, Rebecca has a bad fate, but you’re going to die. You and Rebecca need to get out of here.

The subordinates bring you two out into the hallway. Adrenaline floods your veins, overdosing them. As they’re walking both of you, presumably toward the lab, your legs shake. You feel as if you can’t walk, forcing your feet to take overwhelming steps.

As soon as you get to the lab door, you thrash around in the subordinate’s grip, effectively loosening it. You throw out any sort of punch and kick that you can, albeit badly. You’re clearly not trained to do this. The one holding Rebecca goes to stop you, but she’s already sweeping beneath his feet to make him fall, rendering him useless.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Rebecca assures you.

However, as soon as you turn around to go, the nurse from earlier grabs ahold of Rebecca. You stay frozen in place for a moment, heart racing, staring at Rebecca squirming in the nurse's grip. This is your only chance. It’s now or never.

“Go!” Rebecca screams. “Save yourself!”

That was the only encouragement you needed.

“I’ll come back for you!” You yell back. You break off into a sprint, going any confusing direction you can, just in case.

As you run, you notice the cameras swiveling towards you, lasering in on your dashing figure. You know you’re being watched, most likely by Arias.

Your sprint down the hallway comes to an interruption as static crackles in the air. You look around, eyes wide, jumping at the sound of a chuckle reverberating in the walls. “You’re not getting out of here alive, witness. Good luck getting past them.” Arias’ voice sounds through a sort of speech system.

Before you can ask him what he’s talking about, a door in the hallway opens up ahead of you. Out comes a tumble of people? They look like people, but their skin is falling off the bone and they’re deathly pale and some have limbs missing. You attempt to crack a joke, eyes wide as you take steps back.

“What is this, the zombie apocalypse?”

Their moans and groans answer your rhetorical question.

You turn around, legs breaking off in a sprint. Right as you go past a door, it opens, revealing more people. Or, whatever they are. Their moans join the previous people’s, a symphony of the wicked.

All you know is that they don’t exactly look nice. Besides, Arias made it clear that you weren’t going to leave alive. They’re meant to kill you.

You refuse to die like this. Not by whatever those things are, not by Arias, not like this. You’ve thought about how your demise would be countless times, the thought plaguing you late at night when it’s just you and your thoughts– None of your endings turned out like this.

You won’t accept it.

The only option is to get out of this place. Honestly, you have no idea how you’re supposed to do that. It only seems to be endless hallways, bland and lifeless, stretching past the horizon. The cacophony of groans behind you gets louder. They’ve gotten closer.

The stretch of hallways seems to finally come to an end. The end of the hallway would be good if not for the murderous horde behind you.

Once you approach the ending with nothing but beige walls and green outlines in sight, you start to fear for your life. It feels close to ending now. It’s become all so real. The torn flesh and blood-ridden skin on those things makes you shudder. Your back is against the wall.

Maybe it is time to kick the bucket.

A deafening chorus of gunshots ring out, bouncing off the walls. You see blood splatter against beige, and your hope for freedom, for living, becomes too much. You push towards where the moans and groans have ended and where the gunshots were heard, curiously peeking from around the corner.

There stands Leon and Chris, you know him as now. The latter notices you, nodding at you. “You!” He says. Leon turns around. You shuffle from around the corner, suddenly mute with attention.

Leon’s eyes widen momentarily, but he recovers hastily leaning a motorcycle– Where did he get a motorcycle from?– against the wall. He rushes towards, eyes overlooking you. The adrenaline is beginning to wear off, legs shaky with exhaustion catching up to you.

“You’re okay,” He breathes, not seeing any injuries on you. Still, he worries. “Are you hurt anywhere?” His hands hesitate, going to wrap around you, but stop.

You do your best to nod, clearing your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, Leon. Thank you.” Your voice gets louder once you look up, noticing the final question in both Chris and Leon’s eyes: Where is Rebecca? “The woman you two were with, Rebecca, she’s in a lab. They infected her with something. I don’t know what’s going on, but we need to get to her before Arias does. Please.”

They seem to want to get to her as much as you do, Leon’s hands leaving the area above you to hang at his sides. Chris sighs and shakes his head, looking around. “Alright. We need to find this lab, find Rebecca, cure her, and get Glenn Arias. The vaccine has to be around here somewhere.” He looks at you, then Leon, and then down the hallway. “I’ll find the lab. Leon, get them to a safe place. Arias might try to come after them.”

Leon nods. Chris nods back, some kind of communication, before turning around and going down the hall. You can hear the release of doors.

Leon looks back at you, now just the two of you in the hallway, and then back at his motorcycle. “Ever rode a motorcycle before, sweetheart?” He grins teasingly at you. You bite your lip, the pet name still making you flush despite the circumstances, and shake your head.

He arches a brow at you, letting out a low whistle as he stands the motorcycle back up. “You’re in for a ride,” He tells you, sitting at the front of it. Leon turns to look back at you, patting the area behind him. “Hop on. Make sure to hold on tight.”

Carefully, maybe a little too slowly, you get on the motorcycle. You hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, but he places a foot on the ground to wrap your arms around him for you. “Just like that,” He whispers.

For a moment, there is no virus and kidnapping and forced marriage.

For a moment, it is only you and Leon, sitting on a motorcycle together.

It’s a fleeting moment, one that lasts too little for the way it replays in your mind. It ends quicker than you’d like it to.

The motorcycle speeds down the hallway, bringing you to where Leon considers a safe place. The journey out of the building is a long one, Chris presumably distracting Arias. He seems intelligent though.

As soon as you and Leon make it out of the building, you breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding. The threat of your pending death seems less real now, more like an intrusive thought. Especially now that you’re with Leon.

He brings you to a hotel, parking the motorcycle and waiting for your arms to retract for both of you to get off. Your legs shake under your weight, threatening to collapse. Leon notices it, wrapping your arm around his waist. “Don’t fall,” He murmurs, either unaware or uncaring of your flushed face. His arm wraps around your shoulders, a heavy weight that you gladly welcome (seriously, how heavy was this guy’s bicep?).

He helped you walk up to the hotel room, despite how embarrassing needing the help was. He didn’t shame you for it, letting you take your time when you struggled to walk up the stairs, never even seeming annoyed. He unlocked the door and walked you inside, letting it close shut behind you two.

“There you go.” He set you down on the bed. To your shock, he even kneeled down to undo your shoelaces for you, taking them off your feet and throwing them to the front. “Better?”

You nod your head as you sit there, dumbly looking at him. He sets a hand on your knee, thumb caressing it, as he stands up. He sighed as he sat next to you, rubbing his eyes. “I need a drink.” Leon grumbled. You snickered, humming in agreement. “Well said.”

There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence that sweeps across you. You have so many questions about everything, yet not enough breath to ask them with. Instead, you bit your lip and sigh, looking down at the ground. “What’s going on, Leon?”

He mimics your sigh, as if he knew what you were going to ask him. “I never wanted you, or anyone, to get caught up with my work,” Leon confessed. “You saw a lot of things that you shouldn’t have. They’ll most likely have you change everything about yourself– Your name, location. Everything.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The government.”

Another uncomfortable silence. You don’t know what to say. All the information is burning through your brain, making your body go into overdrive in order not to pass out, but you don’t have enough words to say anything. You’re confused and upset and lost.

However, there’s one question that sticks out the most. It stays stuck in your throat for a long while, desperate to not be heard. Still, you want to know. You need to know.

“Will I ever see you again?”

It weighs heavily in the air. You can feel Leon stiffen, clearly not expecting your question. There’s nothing in between you two. Your knee rests against his, the warmth seeping through your jeans. It makes you yearn to be closer to him, to feel that all-encompassing warmth all over you, for it to never leave you again.

Your puppy crush on Leon has developed into something so much more.

“Only if you want to.”

Leon’s words cut through the air like a knife. There’s a dual-meaning to his words; wondering if you want to see him again, a gravelly lilt to his voice.

“Of course I do.”

You say it like it’s obvious, as if there’s nothing more you’d want to do. In a way, there is nothing more you’d rather do. You’ve always found him interesting, and now you know he’s more than interesting. You want to see him more– more than just work hours and more than small conversations. You want to know his favorite color and how he likes his coffee in the morning and how he would hold you in the evening.

“Then you’ll see me again.”

You look at him. Leon’s already looking at you when you turn your head. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel open and vulnerable, and then back up to your eyes. Something gleams in his eyes and there’s a sort of roughness to his gaze. He’s been through more than he lets on. Its weight strains against Leon when he walks and when he talks, an edge to his voice that isn’t obvious upon first meeting.

You haven’t talked to him much, and you don’t really know anything about him, but you want to. You want to put in the effort to wake up with him in the mornings and go on dates with him in the evenings. You want to be there for him. You want to see him when you wake up and when you go to sleep.

You wouldn’t put in the effort for a lot of things, but you would put in the effort to see Leon.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“You will?” Your voice is quiet, meek. You knew that you had admitted you wanted to see Leon again, but you had no idea that Leon would want to see you again. After all, you had been the one that caused him to be in the bar that morning.

If you hadn’t asked him to come, he wouldn’t have been there. He could’ve avoided this whole mess.

Still, he nods his head. One of his hands comes to your knee, thumb caressing gently. He’s unreadable, always has been, but there’s one thing you're certain of: You’ll see him again.

“I will,” He confirms, quiet, as if it was just between you and him. “We’ll see each other again, [Name.]

“Alright, Leon.”

Things haven’t been right for a while. You were kidnapped for being a witness and had seen walking things that would definitely scar you for the rest of your life. Going home is the only thing you want to do right now.

But for a moment, things do feel right. The stars align and the planets come together to create a swirling galaxy of emotions.

Sitting here besides Leon feels right.

Leon feels right.

[moonspirit]

hello moon. i’ve been lurking on your page for a long time, never interacted. maybe i can become a regular on here, who knows?

i was hoping you’d do that send a ship thing for aruani.. i found it strange you haven’t done them yet given how clearly obsessed you are with them. you’ve already done them for the lock screen thingy but i wanted to see the rest, it’s like 5AM for you rn.. but maybe your best thoughts are at the ass crack of dawn?

yours truly, behyuu.

Hi behyuu!

Haha, feel free to become a regular on my blog, no problem xD But I had received more than one request for Aruani, so I thought I'd do them all together.

Who said “I love you” first

I think it'd be Armin. From the boat scene in 131, when Annie asks him why he kept visiting her, he really could've said any number of things that wouldn't technically have been false, like "I wanted to make sure you were okay," or "I wanted to tell you what was happening," but he very clearly says "I wanted to see you, Annie." He was blushing like a ripe tomato, and yet he chose to say the one thing that would leave no room for any doubt as to what his feelings were. Armin doesn't hesitate to express himself through words, and with Annie, I believe he'd only take this a few steps further to tell her clearly that what he carries for her is love, nothing less.

Annie herself would not say "I love you" until a long time after they're comfortably together, I feel. She's been denied love all her love, deprived of it to the extent that Armin's barest hints of care were enough for to cling onto, and so being loved and loving back is all going to be so very new to her. She will express it through her body language, but not in words; not very early on in their relationship anyway.

In the long run, I really think this spoken-aloud form of reaffirmation from Armin would be the most beneficial for Annie. As much as physical touch is her way of seeking security, safety and comfort from him, it's also very crucial to be reminded that yes, the person kissing her and loving her body also really does love her, the way he never forgets to say in words.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

I answered this one here!

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Both maybe! If Armin's the one taking a shower first, then he leaves a little "I <3 U" on the mirror for her to find once he's done. Nevermind the fact that by the time she does find it (say she wakes up late and he's already left), it's all maybe mostly gone and runny around the edges, but she knows he left it there for her, and it makes her feel all warm inside.

What if Annie's the one taking the shower tho? In that case, she's brushing her teeth in front of the washbasin and the mirror, messy haired, sleepy eyed and lethargic. As she works the toothbrush between long yawns, she doodles a cat on the mirror that's steaming up from the hot water she's left running in the tub. Later on, Armin finds this cat when he comes in to shave, and he finds it to be the cutest thing ever. Maybe they name each cat she draws.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

I have a hc that Annie's really awkward with gift-giving, so while this doesn't translate into "she doesn't pick good gifts", what it does mean is that her gifts are funny, bordering on cute-as-fuck.

Armin is good with gifts. He buys her things she needs, and throws in some flowers, some chocolate, maybe a plushie and a picnic date. He pays attention to what she likes, what she doesn't like, and this generally means Annie's going to get some of the best gifts ever, whether or not his planning and execution goes to shit because he's so nervous about everything being perfect.

So the one giving him cards with cliche quotes and a leather wallet that the seller tells her is a trendsetter with men, are some of the things Annie gets him. Cut the girl some slack. Her gifts don't suck, they're just cheesy. And he finds it so fucking cute how hard she tries.

Who initiated the first kiss

Armin. It's the pounding heartbeats in their chests, synchronizing. It's the static in the air, sparking and tingling. Her wide pale-blue eyes atop blushing cheeks, locked onto his own in baffled surprise, because he's just told her he loves her and she doesn't understand - why her? Why her, of all the other girls? But that's what his heart wants - her - and he's told her as much and all he can do is hope she feels the same.

But she does. She does, he can see it, right there in her eyes, when her gaze drops lower. She feels the same, he can see it, as her lips part, just a bit, ever so slightly he can almost touch her breath. Then she looks up again, searching his eyes.

He sees his chance, he takes it. Because who knows if there'll be another? He kisses her, long, and slow and sweet, until she's kissing him back with the same longing.

*Aherm* Okay, I got carried away. Basically he kisses her first, but the next time he loses his confidence and doesn't, and then because Annie's impatient as hell, she kisses him second.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Annie. I hc that she's the early bird while he struggles to wake up in the morning in general, so naturally being up first, she gives him a little peck on the nose or on the lips. Sometimes he's so deep asleep he doesn't stir at all. Sometimes he's half-awake and drags her closer for longer kisses, and the hope of sleeping in late with her. Sometimes she kisses him short and brief, when she's aching from dealing with something she doesn't like and hasn't told him about; other times they are fluttery, airy, open mouthed kisses, offering silent, sweet promises of love and happiness from between her lips.

Who starts tickle fights

Armin. He reaaaaaaaalllllyy likes teasing her. Whether that's because she's scowling to hide her embarrassment, or refusing to tell him what she's finding so funny in the magazine she's reading - he's always got his hands ready to grab her around the middle and invite her into a tickle fight. The thing though, is that Annie's laughter isn't because of his actions--she's NOT ticklish by any means--but because of the whole play-fighting itself. His laughter is infectious, and she can't help but follow with her own giggling until she's snorting at his stupid jokes and bright eyes.

Guess who's ACTUALLY ticklish? Him. Once she gains the upper hand and squirms away to straddle his hips, it's all game over.

So he may be the one starting the fights, but he's not the one winning them.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

Annie. I just find it more in-character for her to blurt out that he's welcome to join her in the shower. Say they've just come back home after a long and tiring muddy hike, and they're so exhausted they might not have the energy to take showers after each other. It's a casual suggestion, quick and without much thought to it, when Annie says, "Join me then. It'll be quicker."

She might've said that, but once they're actually stripping in the bathroom and getting into the hot waters of the bathtub, Annie's the one burning to the tips of her ears. Doesn't help that Armin's lost all his initial embarrassment and inhibitions and is welcoming her to sit between his legs, pulling her back flush against his chest.

The rest belongs in a smut fic.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Annie. Armin forgets to eat, especially when he's drowning to his neck in documents piling up on his table at work. He's studying up for a meeting on his morning transit, signing off agendas and rescheduling appointments, making six dozen phone calls, holding talks with important people... ugh. He has barely any time to breathe, so his eating habits at work are basically non-existent. During such times when things are more hectic than usual, and it's often a familiar sight to find him coming home with a loosened tie and exhaustion on his face, Annie's the one heading to his workplace with lunch and coffee in her arms. She makes sure he eats, and also eats her own lunch with him, so he's kept company by the only person he can be his silly, goofy self around.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date

I'm inclined to say both, it's just that Armin would express it more openly than Annie would. What Armin would be fretting and worrying about is how perfectly the date is going, how smoothly his plans are working out, and so on. He'd be so bothered about every teeny tiny detail and Annie's enjoyment that he wouldn't really be able to relax and enjoy it himself.

Annie on the other hand, would be nervous and scared about disappointing him. It would warm her heart how he sweetly switches to her more exposed side as they're walking down the street, but it also worries her about how expressive she's being, or rather, how much she's lacking in that respect. Disappointing Armin is probably her biggest fear.

Who kills/takes out the spiders

Annie. Armin hesitates too much. He looks at the mama spider, looks at her eggs, looks at her babies, thinks of the consequences, thinks of their extended families and their ancestors, their futures, their pasts, their presents, and so on and so forth. It's been six hours and he's ignoring the spider in the bathroom because he's conflicted over killing them.

Annie would kill them (she doesn't like bugs), but because she knows it'll break his heart, she traps them in a special plastic cup she keeps for the spiders and lets them out somewhere far away.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

Armin. Even sober, he's always running to give her a big hug with a stupid wide smile on his face, going "Aaaanniiieeeee!!". The happiest golden retriever in the world. Now get that golden retriever drunk to his eyeballs and he won't fucking shut up about how beautiful she is, how big her heart is, how soft she is, how her eyes are like the sky and the sea and other fantastic imagery. He tells her he wants to marry her (even if they're already married), and how he wants to wake up to her presence everyday. In a crowd, it's fucking embarrassing for Annie. Secretly though? She loves it. Replays it in her head over and over again.

[leatheroxide]

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[ankhmutes]

A Charming Journey Home (Part 5)

Okay, I just had to put this up just because. the rest of the story is below, but just because. Nothing that anyone would find untoward in this chapter I believe but better to be safe than sorry?

“T & M Automotive.”

“Can y’all look at my Jeep? It ain’t running right again.” you said with an annoyed huff, leaning on the bar, making sure your boobs were on display appropriately. You needed all the tips you could get. This crowd opened wallets the more you showed boob.

“Uh- sure. Cherokee, right?” the voice at the other end asked..

“Yep, that’s the one. I’ll go pop the hood for y’all.” you say with a nod as you make some noises of affirmation, watching some men in the back party room that you were pretty sure had been the ones talking from earlier. They were wearing leathers, but no sign of any cut, or anything. You knew the boys would know who they were the minute they popped up. You went out to the parking lot and put on the best show you had in you of having a broken down jeep and knowing shit what to do with cars, when in reality you were a mechanic’s daughter and knew how to rebuild the son of a bitch.

“Can we help ya, sweetheart?” one of the men that had been eyeing you asked. You smiled and shook your head, playing stupid. You knew he was with that crowd that you had heard talking about the Sons, and you didn’t want to get mixed up with them. Sure, you could milk him, but you didn’t want him recognizing you or anything at all associated with the Sons.

“I just called the first thing I saw on the board. Someone put up a business card. I got lucky.” you said as you poured on your best southern accent, talking as close to Dolly Parton as you could without sounding tacky. “Some guy said they would send someone over.”

“Well little lady, if you want some help, we’re always happy to help you.”

“Thanks, you’re a real gentleman, I’m sure.” You said as your phone rang, and you waved a cute goodbye wave, not wanting to piss him off. “Gotta take this, sorry.”

“Gemma said your jeep ain’t working?” Chibs asked, getting right to the point and not bothering with a hello. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, but… I think it’s something you and Tiggy need to listen to.” you said with a sharp huff. “I heard some funny things coming from its downstairs, and … something ain’t right so figured I’d find someone who could take a look at it, ya know… “ you hoped Chibs could pick up on what you meant, since you could feel your anxiety bearing down on you, making everything heavier, faster, just MORE. You ignored the fact that you didn’t know how Chibs got your number.

“I’m on my way darlin’.”

“Just come on in the back, ya know where the back patio is?” you asked, explaining to the boys where the alley entryway was, you didn’t want anyone to see them. Your heart in your throat, you waited for the T & M truck to arrive with some men you didn’t recognize, and you had them “repair” your car right in the parking lot and then leave with the car, telling you that there were a lot of issues with the car and it had to be taken back to the shop, stranding you without a car. 

“It was just a spark plug, silly me.” you said to the men at the bar, their eyes watching you with mild interest, as you refilled their drinks and took orders. You had hoped they hadn’t seen them take away your jeep as you made sure you were still quite lovely and approachable, walking back to the kitchen, dropping off their orders and then sliding back into the storeroom and opening the door that led to the patio where Tig and Chibs stood. 

“Boys, I’d love to do this another time, but let’s just focus on business.” you said as the Irish slid into your words. “I gotta play Daisy Duke, but figured you’d want to listen in. c’mere down here- you can hear everything. I can’t stay, but figured y’all would want to hear it.”  you whispered as quietly as you could, leading Tig and Chibs down into the storeroom and showed them the corner where you could hear everything in the party room, arranging some boxes and handing them some pint glasses. They appeared vaguely surprised, not quite expecting this turn of events.  “Believe me, I wasn’t expecting this either.” 

You moved back up outside, chatting up the cook and other workers, making sure to act as normal as you did. You didn’t want to set anything off. You took the orders around, filled drinks, and then the big back room’s order was ready. You took the trays and took your time, walking in carefully. 

“I got your drinks, boys…” you made sure to ask for names, getting as much information as you could from them, about who they were, playing it dumb and innocent, putting on your best Daisy Duke persona. “Oh that’s really wonderful, I know this place up near Sacramento…” you said after someone commented about taking you somewhere. “It ain’t too far from here is it?” you feigned newness, not knowing the area at all. 

The group eventually left, and you got a hefty tip, probably because you had worn the right T-shirt today, and your Daisy Dukes. Putting the money in your shorts, you went back down to fetch the boys once you were sure the last associate of anyone in that bar room had left. 

“Here’s the room they were in, complete with everything. So y’all can kinda see…whatever I can’t see.” you said as you ushered Tig and Chibs in, making sure no one could see their vests, walking right up behind them. You watched them whisper quietly and make phone calls, pointing out various things. You were glad you had chosen to stay out of the politics of it all, just knowing when to blow the whistle.  “Fuck, sweetheart,and you’re okay?” Tig asked, his blue eyes soft as he wrapped you in a hug. You exhaled a long sigh, shaking your head as you let the anxiety take you over, your body trembling and shivering.

[noisycowboyglitter]

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Christmas Ideas for Guys offers a range of thoughtful gifts tailored to men's interests and needs. For tech enthusiasts, consider smartwatches, noise-canceling headphones, or the latest gaming consoles. Outdoor adventurers might appreciate high-quality camping gear, a new fishing rod, or a rugged smartwatch. For the style-conscious, leather accessories, premium grooming kits, or a

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[flashfiction5]

The Escapade of D.Q. Lala In the heart of the city Inuria Hospital, a place where the white walls echoed with the soft hum of healing and hope. It was there that our protagonist, Mr. Diego Q, found himself on a rather peculiar Tuesday morning. My name is Diego, a thirty-year-old man with a penchant for books and a dislike for Confrontation. I was visiting my mother because of a tragic heart attack. As I sat in the waiting room, flipping through the magazine from three years ago, I couldn't help but feel that the day was about to get more interesting. As l was walking on my way to the bathroom while reading a magazine on how octopuses escape most of the time, I bumped into a seemingly tall guy wearing a hoody, looking shady. "Hey, I’m sorry, this magazine is really interesting I wasn't looking.' “Oh yeah? What a nice life you live. “ The hoodie guy dropped his wallet and seemed to be in a rush. The moment I bent down to grab his wallet he vanished. I then proceeded to the comfort room, the black leather wallet with a slither design got the best out of my curiosity. I gently popped the wallet open and there I saw paper and ripped out sticker filling the wallet. The instant shock made me drop the magazine and the wallet and realize that my own wallet was missing. I hurriedly ran out of the bathroom to chase the hoodie guy but then. A nurse approached me, her face a mask of urgency. "Mr. Belfort, you need to come with me right now!" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm with surprising strength. I don't know who this Belfort is, and he is definitely not me, I attempted to protest. “I think there's been a mi—", but the nurse was not one for dilly-dallying. She whisked him away, leaving his protests trailing behind like the tail of a comet. Before I knew it, they dressed me in a patient gown that was far too large for me. I was being escorted to a room I had never seen before. The room was filled with men who looked remarkably similar, all wearing the same oversized gowns and expressions of confusion. It was then that I realized I was in the midst of a case of mistaken identity. I was supposed to be Mr. Belfort is a notorious con artist known for his grand escapes. The real Mr. Belfort had been admitted for a routine check-up but had other plans that didn't involve being poked and prodded by doctors. As Diego tried to explain the mix-up, the room suddenly plunged into darkness. A voice whispered in his ear. "Follow me if you want to escape." It was the hoodie guy, offering me a chance to escape. I was hesitant to accept but I don’t know what else to do. "Yes, finally after my 30 years of boring life, I can experience something adrenaline.” "But you have to give me back my wallet." “No, consider this as your payment.” "Okay, it's not worth much anyway.” With nothing but the sound of our footsteps, we navigated through the maze-like hospital, we dodged nurses, leaped over gurneys, and at one point, even crawled through the ventilation system. As we emerged onto the rooftop, the sun breaking over the horizon, I couldn't help but laugh. This was the most excitement I've had in years, and it was all because of a magazine, a wallet, and the hoodie guy. With a wink and a tip of an imaginary hat, Mr. Belfort disappeared into the morning light, leaving Diego to find his way back to the waiting room, his octopus magazine, and a life that was just a little less mundane than before. - Lawrenz Rey Abaño