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perfectly-m1saligned · 5 months ago

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K!nktober 11

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day 11: public sex; choking. You can find all my stories on my Wattpas as well. Toodles!

(NSFW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x reader

(Bodyguard!Simon)

cw: tight space, public sex, foreplay, protections are used (surprisingly)

word count: 2377

"For fuck's sake, y/n, your closet is flooding with clothes, why would you want to go shopping?"

Simon sipped his tea by the kitchen counter, brow furrowed in a grumpy expression, arms folded over his broad chest, biceps bulging under the tight black long-sleeve. "Because you're keeping me trapped in here!" You whined, only your stretched out legs visible as you sat upside-down on the couch, your bare feet hanging in the air. "And Daddy has a big event or something coming up, so I need to find something cute-"

"Spare me the bullshit," he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "We can go, but you're wearing the vest. And if I see something that I don't like, we're leaving. Got it?" You were already up and sprinting up the stairs the moment he said "we can go". You were the daughter of a renowned politician, but being the controversial figure your father was, his family - namely, you - was always in the target of ill-intentioned people.

So that's when Simon Riley had come in, four months ago, a grumpy-looking beast, standing at 6'4" and probably 250+ lbs heavy, he was the perfect man for the job, since he had served for many years in the SAS, and had made a name for himself in the underbelly of the Special Forces, under the alias of Ghost, a trained killer, member of an anti-terrorism task force. Apparently, he had lost one of his closest comrades, and his Captain had taken out a general, so he retired, taking on some security gigs like this.

He was insufferable, paranoid, always on alert, even in the house. He was up your ass whenever you had to attend some formal events, and you were too embarrassed to show yourself in a normal social setting or even hang out with your friends, because his mere presence was anything but normal. But a golden cage is still a cage, and staying inside your property had become too suffocating. Plus, he must've been allergic to fun, because he had strictly rejected all your attempts at seducing him; you had some needs too, after all, and a beast of a man like him was bound to get your panties in a twist, or wet.

The vest looked ugly and made you look fat, so you had to hide it under a sweater, much to your dismay, but at least he had agreed on spending some time away from the house, so the least you could do was conforming to his obnoxious rules.

"Here," you said as you handed Simon yet another bag full of clothes, then proceeding to strut out of the boutique. It was comical, seeing him carrying all your girly shopping bags, though the way he did so effortlessly was rather hot; not surprising for someone who looked like he could snap a man's neck like a twig. "Isn't your father going to be mad when he checks his bank account?" Simon grumbled, lips curled in a displeased frown, peering down at you, your brattiness oozing from every pore, the way your ass moved side to side in those tight jeans-

"Daddy is happy as long as I'm happy," you said, shrugging your shoulders carelessly, snapping him out of his very unprofessional thoughts. Simon looked up ahead, impassive. "And spending his money makes me happy." He hummed in response, not disclosing his thoughts about your father's parenting skills - or lack thereof. He saw you suddenly veering to the right, making a beeline for yet another store. He eyed the mannequins on the display windows, and his blood froze at the sight of the lingerie.

Be strong, Simon. He mentally reprimanded himself, reluctantly following behind you. The amount of lace, rhinestones and whatever small gadgets they equipped lingerie with was truly confusing to Simon, yet he had to angle the shopping bags to hide the embarrassing hard-on that was growing in his jeans, simply at the thought of you in one of those little sets. And also at how you'd look at him, with your pretty cheeks flushed, and his teeth tearing the lace that would barely cover your sweet little cunt, before he would feast on you like a damn animal.

"Okay, I'm trying these on!" You chirped, your hands full of bras and panties in different shades, waddling like a kid towards the changing rooms. Simon had chosen a quiet hour, so the mall was mostly empty, and it was a monday, so all the workers were very much not in the mood to work. He stood by, as close as it seemed appropriate for him to be, watching the shadow of your feet move around, your jeans soon pooling to the floor.

Simon had dropped your bags on the floor by his feet, so he had to awkwardly stand with his hands folded in front of his crotch, his cock throbbing painfully hard, straining against his boxer briefs. How had he let this happen? When had he become this weak, turning into some caveman whenever he saw the daughter of his employer? Daughter who, by the way, he couldn't stand. You were bratty, selfish, entitled, and you never listened to him, you always had to fight him on everything, your stubbornness threatening to make him blow a fuse on more than one occasion.

But then you would look at him with those big doe eyes, perhaps in the middle of the night when you asked him what he was still doing awake, sitting on the couch, going through old documents, reliving Soap's death as if it was yesterday. He couldn't possibly tell you, but seeing you in those little pyjama sets you wore sometimes helped to take his mind off the painful memories of the past. And it would always end up in the same way, angrily fisting his cock under the shower until he pathetically came in his hand, hoping it was your mouth instead, or your pussy. He hated being this weak for you, but he somehow couldn't get you out of his head, and your little attempts at seducing him were becoming harder and harder to ignore.

"Simon?" Your soft voice called from behind the curtain, before your head peeked out. "I'm having some...technical difficulties." He mentally cursed himself, gathering all of his will to stay strong, and hoping you wouldn't notice his erection as he sauntered over to you. When he closed the curtain behind himself, the small space was soon crowded by his large frame alone.

Fucking hell, you were beautiful. The baby pink corset hugged your torso like a glove, making the top of your breasts almost spill from its confines. You were also wearing the smallest little matching thong, the string cutting between your plump, round asscheeks. "Sorry for the indiscretion, princess, but who the fuck is supposed to see you wearing this?" He asked, his low baritone holding a dangerous edge to it, eyes burning into you through the reflection of the mirror.

"I don't know," you rolled your eyes. "Can't I buy something nice for myself? Plus, this is not why I called you here. Can you help me untie the corset? I made a really strange knot and I can't get it out." You huffed, reaching behind your back with your hands. You gasped when Simon encircled both your wrists with one large hand, keeping them secured behind your back.

"Answer me, princess," he growled in your ear, hunching until his head was level with yours, basically cheek to cheek, as he kept you pinned on the spot, looking at you in the mirror. "Who do you think will see you wearing this?" You bit down on your bottom lip, feeling the heat pooling down in your belly, your stomach doing flips as he pressed into you from behind, his very evident erection nestling itself against the curve of your ass. So now it was your time to play.

"You?" You asked coyly, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you held his gaze. "Right answer, good girl." He said, lips curling into a wolfish grin. You gasped quietly when his hand encircled your neck, calloused fingers pressing down on the sides of your throat, your cheeks immediately growing a couple shades of pink darker.

"You think I hadn't noticed, hm?" He whispered, tracing the outline of your ear with his nose. "When you tried to seduce me, playing coy with me, wearing those tight clothes around the house when your father is out? Basically begging me with those big, sweet eyes of yours for me to bend you over the nearest flat surface and fuck you until you pass out?" His other hand had snaked between your thighs, feeling your juices already soaking the fabric. He clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Tsk, tsk, y/n, you know we have to buy this now that you got these all wet, like some desperate slut? What is the worker going to think when she sees these little panties all soaked, hm?"

You couldn't answer, another gasp of pleasure being stolen by his long fingers collecting some of the slick between your folds, sliding the fabric to the side. A moan threatened to leave your mouth, but Simon's hand squeezed your neck as a warning. "If you make a sound, they'll hear, and our little game ends. I'm sure you don't want me to stop now, do you?" His hot breath fanned against the back of your head, nuzzling his nose into your hair, taking in your sweet, sweet scent. You simply nodded your head violently, teeth sinking into the plump flesh of your bottom lip, trying your best to keep quiet.

You winced when he slid two long fingers inside your hole, making scissoring motions against your walls to stretch you; you would need it to accommodate him. He kept his other hand wrapped around your throat, your cheeks a bright pink colour as he toyed with your oxygen intake, applying different levels of pressure against your airflow, but never to the point of actually choking you, or giving you pain. It was quite the opposite, actually, the dizziness of your constricted airflow, combined with the overwhelming pleasure his fingers were giving you was probably the most confusing yet best feeling ever. The sounds coming from your pussy were obscene, your juices coating his long, calloused digits, and you were doing your best to keep quiet, releasing the softest breathy moans and gasps.

"Good, you're doing so good, y/n," Simon murmured, a wicked glint in his eyes as he met your gaze in the mirror. "Let's see if you can keep quiet with the real thing." Your eyes widened, his movements quick and agile as he grabbed a condom from his wallet, keeping the wrapper between his lips as he worked with the buckle of his belt. With your hands still behind your back, you helped him with getting his jeans off. "You just go around with condoms in your wallet?" You quipped, pulling down the zipper as quietly as possible. "Do you want to go back home with my cum leaking down that pretty pussy of yours and make a mess everywhere?" Touché.

When you felt the tip of his cock ticling your needy entrance, you couldn't help but wiggle your hips, showing your impatience, earning a low, mocking chuckle from him. You wish you never did. As he slowly inserted himself, the burn from the stretch was eliciting the most animalistic sounds from you, but you couldn't act on any of them, suddenly remembering that you were, in fact, inside a changing room, and you were surprised no worker had still come to ask what you were doing in there for so long. You just hoped their laziness would last just a little longer.

Simon was currently feeling like he was in heaven, feeling your gummy walls clenching around him like a loving embrace, or like a snake encircling its prey, he was sure he had never felt anything better than this. And he was wearing a condom. The thought of having you again back at home, and many other times after that, without one, almost had him coming on the spot, but he tried to name the names of UK football teams in alphabetical order, and he calmed down.

You were a squirming mess by the time he bottomed out inside of you, the firm hand around your neck keeping the right amount of pressure to not let any unwanted sound slip, only allowing choked gasps of pleasure as he started to move his hips. He couldn't even fuck you properly, or the sound of skin slapping against skin would've certainly given away what was happening in the small cubicle. So he just settled for slow, deep strokes, nose buried in your hair as he bent you over, your hands on the wall to brace yourself. His free hand came to your front, stimulating your aching clit again with his thumb, making your eyes roll back into your skull.

The forbidden nature of your affair, the fear of being discovered, and maybe even the slight lack of oxygen to your brain, it all gave you an unfamiliar rush, a surge of adrenaline you'd never felt before, and you had also never been this turned on before. The heat coiling in your stomach soon reached its peak, a wave of euphoria rippling through your body as you almost clawed at the wall, biting down on your forearm, hard, to keep the noises building in your throat from coming out of your mouth.

Feeling you coming undone around him had to be the best thing to ever happen to him, feeling your sweet walls clenching, as if to keep him trapped inside of you, and he totally wouldn't have minded that. With one last stroke, he felt himself crumble as well, hips stuttering as he filled up the condom, a growl rumbling so low in his chest it revertìberated through your very own bones.

Your legs felt like jelly, needing to take a very deep breath the moment Simon unsheathed himself, and his hand fell from your neck. "I'll be waiting for you outside," he stated, his voice impassive as he pulled up his jeans, looking not even a fraction as flushed as you. "I really can't wait to see how you're going to explain that to the cashier."

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not translate or share on this or any other platforms without credit•

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty smut #ghost x reader smut #18+ mdni #mdni #omg this man #i need him #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #halloween #perfectly-m1saligned

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sweetbillwriting · 4 months ago

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The Blackened Branches

TWO

Description: Hayden and Eric have a long history together but also secrets, hidden under blackened branches.

Characters: AU Eric from The Crow played by Bill Skarsgård. The story is completely its own thing.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

“Hey...!” My mom shouted at Eric who stood with her jewellery in his t-shirt, similar to a kangaroo pocket. His eyes were big and stared at us in terror. It was obvious he was used to running for his life because he just dropped the edge of the t-shirt and ran over the bed. My mom tried to catch him, but he was too fast and small, and he succeeded in running around her and throwing himself down the stairs. My mom still shouted after him while I stood in horror next to her. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I also knew Eric's crime was serious.

“Did you let that boy in??” She turned and looked at me upset. I swallowed hard and looked towards the jewellery lying in a mess on the floor. “He’s a thief! You can't let someone like that into our home!”

“But Dad—” I tried, but she pointed towards my room.

“Go to your room! This isn't okay!”

With a lowered head, I walked to my room while thinking about what my dad had said. He had encouraged us to take care of Eric; how could I have known he would steal? I met Illowa outside of his room; he had messy hair and was still dressed in pajamas. He looked at me with empathetic eyes, and it actually felt like he was on my side this time, but neither of us could do anything about our mother's opinions. I was in my bedroom until lunch, and then my mom let me come out. I hadn't done much in my room besides thinking about Eric. I wondered what he did all day, what he ate, and who his parents were. I didn't find many answers but still couldn't stop thinking about him.

“You know, I'm still missing a gold bracelet,” accused my mom, upset at me when we sat by the table. I looked down at my plate with mixed feelings. I was ashamed, but at the same time I had tried to do something good. I didn't eat; instead, I sat in silence waiting for my mom to dismiss me from the table. She sighed loudly even if I thanked her for the lunch.

“I'm going to Dad…” I said carefully, and my mom turned her eyes towards me and scoffed.

“And turn him against me? I guess I can't stop you from trying, but even he will see that that boy is bad news!” She said while putting the dish in the washer. I didn't answer, just walked to the hallway. With age I had evolved other feelings towards my mom, and in that moment it felt like I hated her, a feeling that would come back to me in my teens, especially when the subject of Eric came up.

×××

My dad's music store was on a shopping street full of small independent boutiques. The store my mom worked for extra income sat on the same block also. The street had the potential to be cute with old architecture buildings and chrome street lights, but they had begun to tear down one building at a time replacing them with new grey square-shaped buildings. My dad's store, a small shop filled with guitars and keyboards, was in one of those older buildings. He had had the store all my life, and I felt just as at home there as in our house. I was sitting in one of the chairs by the electric guitars while my dad polished them with a rag. He looked upset when I told him what happened with Mom and Eric, but I could also see how he tried to come up with a way to stand up for his values without saying anything bad about my mom.

“It's better if you give him help when we're home, or even, maybe, wait until I'm home,” he mumbled and nodded to himself.

“Like he would come back after Mom yelled at him! You said we should be grateful for our life, but doesn't that mean we should be nice to poor people too? He probably stole because he needed money!”

I felt proud of myself that I had been able to stand up for myself and Eric. My dad looked at me seriously and nodded. It was obvious he agreed but couldn't say too much.

“Your mom was probably just stressed…”

“Say that to Eric. He's probably terrified now!”

My dad dragged a hand through his beard and looked out from the window.

“I will try to find him…” he muttered mostly to himself but then turned to me like it also was meant for my ears. I gave him a look with furrowed brows and pouting lips. He hated when we, his children, became disappointed in him, and he flashed a strained smile.

“We can do it when I close the shop at four. We can search for him then?” He added to make me happy with him again. Slowly I lifted my brows and gave him a small smile.

“We should bring him something to eat. And a sweater.” I spoke like I was the one with money, but my father let it be and smirked.

“Maybe he even wants to give your mother's bracelet back…” my dad muttered. I looked at him in disappointment again, and he swallowed hard, neither wanting to disappoint me nor my mother.

×××

It felt like we had searched for Eric everywhere. Everywhere but one place. The woods. I looked up at the high pine trees like it was a daunting new world. Even if my dad stood next to me, it felt like a darkness came from it and tried to push me away, push me to the comfort of our home. My dad stood and looked at me. He hadn't understood earlier how afraid of the woods I was and scratched his beard by seeing my terrified expression.

“Should I do it alone? You can go home if you want to,” he asked and looked down at me with worry. My first instinct was to nod and run, but I took a deep breath and took his hand. I wanted to be there for Eric. Otherwise, he would have believed I was on my mom's side. Because of the grey November weather, it had already started to get dark, and I hugged my dad's hand hard while we looked through the forest. Black crows sat on the branches, looking down at us as if they wondered if we were lost. One of them sat on a rock, following our every moment, and I started to wonder if they were guarding something. My dad laughed a little, but even he sounded nervous.

“Maybe we should ask them where Eric is? They seemed to know-” my dad started to joke, but it was just then we saw Eric sitting on another big rock. He looked up at us like a frightened deer and reacted just as fast. On skinny legs he ran through the forest’s uneven terrain. My dad dropped my hand at the same moment he started to run after Eric, so I stood left behind with a raised hand. I was surprised at how fast my dad could run, even if he didn't move as easily as Eric over roots and rocks, but he had his much longer legs though, and I saw him scoop up Eric in his arms. It wasn't at all how I wanted us to meet him. I wanted us to be kind and careful with him so he would want to come back to us, but now I watched my dad hold him in his arms in a tight grip while Eric screamed loudly in panic instead. My heart beated in my throat, and I let out a sound in frustration. I was so powerless.

“Hey! I just want to help you!” Shouted my dad while Eric kicked and hit him. At that moment it was just the three of us in the world of the forest; in my dad's world it maybe even was just him and Eric, but when a gunshot was heard just to the left of us, we woke up. My dad dropped Eric while I had sat down on the ground with my arms shielding my head in protection. Close to my dad stood a thin brunette woman in just a black nightgown and boots with a revolver pointed to the sky. My dad had raised his hands in panic while Eric had run to stand close to the woman.

“If you ever touch my son again, I will let your daughter see her dad get a bullet between his eyes. Don't ever touch my fucking son again!” Screamed the woman, then she turned to Eric.

“Fuck off now!” I looked at him, still with my arms over my head, and for a few short seconds we looked straight at each other. He looked frightened but there was also another feeling there. It looked like disappointment and later that night I would wonder if maybe he was just as disappointed as me that we couldn't get to know each other. My parents but also his mom had destroyed our relationship, stopping us from getting to know each other, and being close.

I heard my dad cry in my mom's arms when I had gone to bed. His meeting with Eric's mom had affected him more than I had understood, so when I met Eric three years later, thanks to my dad, I was shocked. Even if Eric's mom had threatened him, even if my mom hated Eric, he had invited Eric into his life, but in secrecy.

×××

Three years later…

“Dad! Dad!” I shouted loudly when I came into the shop on a Friday afternoon. A mother and her ten-year-old son stood by the counter and looked at me strangely when I walked around the desk.

“Honey…!” my dad muttered, irritated, when he came around a corner with a music book in his arms. He gave the mother a smile, hoping for some understanding, but she looked at me up and down like I was an uninvited guest. Dad cleared his throat and walked around the checkout counter and scanned the book.

“28 dollars, please,” he said with a polite smile, even if the woman continued to throw glances at me. I was used to it, though, for some reason many adults got provoked by eyeliner and black clothes. Sometimes I liked that I provoked them, but I was also fourteen years old, so my need to provoke was equally as big as the need to be liked. However, this woman was not one of the people I felt I needed approval from, and I gave her a nasty look back. When she and her son had left the store, my dad turned to me. I wore a strappy top with laces under a black zip hoodie, and he fixed it so I didn't show my pink bra straps. It annoyed me when he fixed my clothes, but it was also a bit embarrassing when I understood he tried to cover my modesty.

“You can't come in here shouting like that; I have customers.” I rolled my eyes and looked around to see if he had some customers at that moment and saw a lean teenage guy standing by a keyboard, playing it without the sound on. Just like me, he wore black from top to toe and had a blonde buzz cut. My eyes stopped at him and looked at him up and down. I couldn't see his face, but just how he carried himself made me certain that he was cute. I swallowed hard and looked away. He looked just like the sort of guy my friends and I interacted with online, but we knew had hundreds of girls messaging them on the alternative community sites. I wondered if he was one of them. My dad looked between the boy and me, and he looked doubtful while scratching his beard and correcting his glasses.

“Eric?” He said towards the boy, who looked up. Big green eyes, framed with smudged eyeliner, looked at us. He stopped playing at once, like he had done something wrong. I didn't dare to look at him for many seconds because he really was as cute as I had thought, maybe even cuter.

“Come here, meet my daughter.”

Eric pushed his hands deep down in the pockets of his baggy pants and walked up to us in his heavy boots. I crossed my arms and pouted sourly when he came up to us. I couldn't say why I did that, but at that moment it felt like that was the only way I knew I would be able to handle the situation. Eric looked at me a bit curiously but then towards my dad.

“This is Hayden; you've met once before,” my dad mumbled like he didn't really want to say it. I looked at him confused, then at Eric. He looked back at me with those big eyes and licked his plump lips. I recognised him but couldn't at all say from where. Eric nodded a little.

“By the old oak…” he said with a low voice and looked down at the floor. I didn't understand what he meant at first, but when he looked up at me with a boyish look, I could see that thirteen-year-old in his face. I couldn't really believe that that dirty boy had grown up to be the perfect goth prince, but it was him. Eric. My mouth was dry, and I didn't get a sound out.

“Eric has helped me in the shop for a couple of months and I've had some lessons with him too…” said my father who gave me a worried look when he saw my blushing cheeks. Eric was probably not the kind of a boy he wanted to see his fourteen-year-old daughter crushing on, even if he trusted him enough to have him in the shop. Eric looked uncomfortable because I didn't say anything and he looked towards a box of reeds for clarinets that stood on the counter.

“Should I put them up?” He asked my dad instead of waiting for me to say something. I looked away in embarrassment. I had just lost my chance to actually speak to a cool guy instead of just the boring boys in my class.

“Yeah, thank you, Eric,” said my dad, pleased, and smiled brightly at him, like he was happy that mine and Eric's conversation never even started. Eric nodded, taking the box, and walked to the right shelf. I huffed in irritation even if I was just anxious with regret. My dad smirked a bit before asking me why I was actually there.

“Nothing, never mind,” I said, even if I had wondered if my friend Louise could have dinner at our place that day. I stomped out from the shop still with heated cheeks. I kicked a rock lying on the ground. Couldn't I be cool for once? Just once? So Eric would have been interested in me? I let out a loud frustrated sound but then gave the window to the shop a quick glance after feeling eyes on me. Eric stood by the shelf closest to the window, and to my surprise, he smiled a little, then gave me a lazy salute with two fingers. I looked at him and once again saw that thirteen-year-old kid on his face. A flashback of that skinny boy’s sad expression came to mind and I looked at his smile and smiled by reflex, happy to see him healthier. I answered his salute with a wave of my hand but then marched away in panic, embarrassed by my silly gesture.

I skipped seeing Louise that day; instead, I lay on my bed thinking of Eric. I thought back on every movement he had made, his cute smile and cool salute. I also cringed over my own behaviour and wondered if I could save it some way. It was also one of the first times I thought about how it would be to do it. The thought didn't feel as unpleasant as it had done before.

×××

“We totally had a moment!” I said proudly to Louise and Diane. We sat in the park, in the grass, with a Coke each, and enjoyed the sun even if neither of us wanted to get a tan. I had just fishnets on but had covered my legs with my plaid shirt.

“Was he like goth or just pretend goth like that guy Emma made out with?” Asked Louise as she lit a cigarette.

“Real, I think,” I said with a nod. I wasn't sure of what Louise thought was real goth.

“And he was super cute. Like, super cute. I hope to see him again this week.”

I smirked proudly and probably looked a bit cocky. Louise and Diane looked at each other in annoyance, and then Diane smacked her lips. “He probably has a girlfriend,” she teased and my smile fell. I had been so stupid that I hadn't even thought about the possibility that he was in a relationship.

“He’s probably fucking her right now.” Louise gasped but then laughed at Diane's comment. Diane was much more experienced than me and Louise and would say crude things just to shock us.

“At 2 pm?” I said with an attitude and laughed a little. Diane smirked at me. “You can fuck any hour of the day, you know.” I felt my cheeks get red because of my stupid comment but then came up with a way to make it less ridiculous.

“Yeah, but he's working. At my dad's shop.”

Diane sat up better and fixed the short pleated shirt she wore.

“Really? Can't we go there and see him then?”

I wished I could take back what I said, or at least come up with an excuse for why we couldn't go to the shop, but I couldn't, so just 30 minutes later we stood by the counter in Dad's shop. Diane started to walk around, looking at the instruments but also quite obviously after Eric. Louise stayed by my side while I waited for Dad to come out from the office.

“Hey honey, are you girls out shopping?” He said kindly, but I just thought he was being embarrassing, and I rolled my eyes.

“Nah, like we, no, like we…” I stuttered, too uncomfortable daring to say I was looking for Eric.

“Hayden! He's here!” Shouted Diane behind a shelf. I could see confusion sweep over my dad's face before he realised who it was Diane spoke about. He gave me a warning look, but I turned my gaze away, took a deep breath, and walked toward Diane. I wouldn't let her get to him. Eric sat in a chair by the guitars with a black acoustic guitar in his lap. He wore a black knitted sweater but with big holes so I could see a tank top in the same color underneath. His eyes were framed by eyeliner also that day, and in the sun I could see gold specs in his green eyes.

“Are you good?” Asked Diane, clearly already in a conversation with Eric. He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the guitar without playing. Diane inspected him while I and Louise just looked at them from the corner. I thought Eric gave me a fast glance, but I wasn't sure.

“Do you smoke?” Diane nodded towards something by the guitar, and Eric lifted it so I could see the square in his front pocket.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, without looking at her.

“Can I bum one?” Once again it felt like he gave me a glance, but then he looked down at his pocket, taking out the lumpy package and giving Diane one. She looked between the cigarette and Eric while he looked down at the guitar again.

“No, I mean…” Diane seemed to lose her confidence, but I could clearly see her take a deep breath and fake it.

“I mean, if you want to come out with me?” Eric looked up at her again and shook his head.

“I'm working.”

“No, you're not!” Teased Diane with a light laugh.

“Yes, I am?”

“So what do you do?”

“I'm tuning the guitars?”

He looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, more confused than anything, but it could be interpreted as rude. Diane looked at him up and down and scoffed.

“You're not as cute as you think you are!” She said before marching away to the door. Eric made a confused face but then looked at me. Now I was certain he was actually looking at me.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked carefully. Louise went after Diane so suddenly I was alone with Eric, and I shrugged my shoulders.

“No…” He nodded a little to himself and looked down at the guitar. Alone with him, he didn't feel as threatening, and I took two steps closer to him.

“I didn't know you worked here,” I said and put my hair behind my ears even if I felt cooler with it hanging around my face. Eric put down the guitar next to him and nodded with a smile.

“I like it.”

I smiled too and took one more step closer to him. He dragged his hands over his thighs and scratched his platinum buzz cut with an embarrassed smile.

“Can I… get your number?” He said to my surprise and dared to meet my eyes. I felt something in my chest I could only describe as euphoria.

×××

I play a bit with a band called Mercy Murder. Like when some one is sick. We must lay about my age every time I play so it's a bit too much work.

You play the guitar?

I can play what ever.

Eric's texts had many spelling errors, but I didn't care at all. We had texted for three days nonstop, and the only thing I could think about was that I was writing to a cute guy like Eric. He was a musician, had older friends, was smoking and drinking, and had three tattoos and a piercing in his tongue. He was the typical bad boy, and it made the butterflies in my belly crash against each other. A bad boy was the dream, and I knew Diane would be so jealous.

Do you have a gig soon?

Nope not what I know. But you don't play any thing?

I play the piano but I don't like it. I'd rather listen to you haha.

I blushed while writing my flirty text but became nervous he wouldn't answer. When he hadn't answered for five minutes, I started to get anxious and regretted my message, but the feeling disappeared just as quick as it had come when his name showed up on the phone screen again.

You can come to the shop if you want. Tomorrow?

I sat up in bed and made a happy scream even if it was late and my whole family had gone to bed. I pushed my face against the pillow and screamed again while kicking my legs, but then I answered.

Sure. Okay.

I work between 11 and 6.

×××

I had put on my best outfit, a black velvet dress, fishnets, and my black Converse. I let my black-dyed hair be messy but tried to do my makeup as well as possible, even if my eyeliner always became uneven. I went to the shop after school with my heart in my throat. I hadn't told my friends that I would meet him because something told me Diane would try to ruin it for me. The only ones who could destroy mine and Eric's meeting were Dad or me. I didn't know if Dad would do such a thing; he most often didn't comment on my life, but if he knew what a bad boy Eric was, I had a feeling he would try to stop me from coming too close to him.

I saw Eric already outside of the shop and felt at once my hands start to shake and my mouth getting dry. He sat on a bench smoking a cigarette while playing with something between his fingers. He wore the same outfit as the last time I saw him.

“Hey,” I said with a too high tone that made me cringe. He looked up at me and smiled sweetly.

“Hey, Hayden.”

He moved closer to the armrest so I could sit down next to him. When I sat down, he took a last toke of his cigarette, then stomped on it. I didn't know what to say, and he didn't seem to know either, so we just sat next to each other, looking at people walking by.

“Don't you go to school?” I asked after a while, and he looked at me. He licked his full lips and scratched his high cheekbone.

“I do, but I'm never there,” he mumbled with a smirk and continued to play with the thing between his fingers. It was a small box of matches that he probably had used to light his cigarette. Just that he used matches instead of a lighter was a bit hot, and I felt my cheeks warm again.

“Can you do that? Like, not show up?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged his shoulders. “It seems like it.” He smiled a little and looked down at the ground. I wanted to ask what his parents said about that, but the memory of his mom with a gun flashed in front of my eyes, and it felt like his parents weren't a good first subject. I asked instead what school he went to, and then slowly our conversation became more and more relaxed. He asked me about my friends, interests, and about my two cats. It was a cute conversation, and he made me laugh several times. After 30 minutes I had been so relaxed I started to unconsciously look between his eyes and his lips. He really was pretty. So, so pretty, and his lips were plump and cherry red. I wondered how it would be to kiss them and how he tasted. I had never kissed a guy but knew now I wanted it to be him. I maybe even wanted more than that.

“I must go back to work now…” he suddenly said with a little sigh.

“Oh…” I felt the disappointment make my limbs feel heavy, and I lowered my eyes. He stood up and dug his hands down in the pockets of his cargo pants. I stood up too, but for some reason it became awkward between us again when we needed to say goodbye.

“Ehm…” he said and looked down at his heavy boots and my Converse. I played with my fingers and looked towards the shop, wondering if my dad had seen us.

“Maybe we can see each other again?” I looked at him surprised but then smiled big and giggled.

“Yeah, yeah. I can come by another day?”

Eric smiled brightly, a big, contented smile so I could see dimples and straight teeth.

“Maybe we can meet by the oak?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah, tonight,” he said and swayed on his feet with the same big smile.

×××

We met many nights by the tree in secrecy; we never talked about why we did it that way, but I had a feeling he maybe was just as afraid of my mom as I was of his. We talked about music, movies, friends, my family, tattoos, and politics. He was so easy to talk to, even if it was obvious he didn't want to touch the subject of his family, but after three weeks of seeing each other, he shared, but not really because he wanted to.

“Please, can't you show me?” I said with a giggle. I had seen two of his tattoos: a hangman on his chest and a sun on his upper arm; the only one I hadn't seen was the barbed wire on his back, and I really wanted to see it. “Please?” I tried to look cute and laid my chin against his upper arm. He sighed but smirked. He sat up better but looked a bit nervous. He had a black hoodie on that I was used to seeing him in, and he took a hold of the hem to pull it up. He tried to do it carefully, but it was then I saw that his hips had a bruise so blue it almost looked black.

“Oh my god! What have you done?” I asked worriedly and lifted the hoodie more just by impulse. Eric pulled it down and looked away. He looked embarrassed, and at first I thought he had got it in a silly way, climbing the oak or something, but his embarrassment transformed to shame, and his eyes swam with anxiety.

“Are, are you okay, Eric? Has something happened?” I asked worried but tried to keep my voice calm. I wanted to meet his eyes, but he just looked towards the woods.

“It's… I get into fights with Mom's boyfriend sometimes.”

I swallowed hard because something told me it wasn't fighting but abuse. Eric was a skinny guy, and I had a hard time seeing him fight a grown man.

“He hits you?”

Eric scratched his neck and massaged it lightly.

“It's nothing serious.”

I wanted to protest because his bruise had been almost black and covered his whole hip. Instead of asking more about the “fights,” I took the moment of honesty to know more about his life, and I asked him how he lived.

“We live with him right now. Mom's dude. But I try to get away from there as often as I can; it's just… I can't just live off other people. My friends live with their parents and they aren't wealthy in any way, so the salary I get from your dad I use to be able to live with friends’ friends, but I must sometimes give the money to mom and… Yeah… ”

Eric spoke calmly but still didn't look at me. I didn't really understand why he felt a need to listen to his mom but didn't say anything about it, afraid that would make him close up again. I took his hand in mine instead, and he looked down at how they clasped together. He smiled a little, and so did I. It was easy doing such a thing with him, and I felt warmth in my chest while we continued to sit in silence for a while.

“Have you had a girlfriend?”

Eric turned toward my curious eyes and bit his lip, embarrassed.

“Yeah… A few months ago, but it was just three weeks.” He smirked a little, and I smiled back a bit blushy.

“Have you had a boyfriend?”

“No…”

He nodded a little and looked down at our hands again.

“Do you want a girlfriend?” I could now feel my heart beating against my ribs, especially when he looked up at me.

“Do you mean… You?”

My face heated from forehead down to my chest, and I nodded. He smiled brightly but looked as embarrassed as me.

“Okay.”

I giggled a little and laid my hands on my glowing cheeks. Eric turned a bit towards me, and I could see what he was thinking. It was time for a kiss. My first kiss. My first kiss would be with a cute, kind guy like Eric. I let him lean in, lay his hand against my cheek, and press his warm lips against mine. It was perfect; soft and romantic until his tongue wanted entry to taste mine. I could feel electricity in my body, heated power in my limbs, and a pressure between my legs. It was everything, and it would make me be linked to Eric for the rest of my life.

×××

Eric stood by the hotel bed in just a pair of black boxers. I wondered if I would ever get used to his ripped body with all of the tattoos. Every time we saw each other, I needed to touch him like I had never seen a man before.

I had put on my clothes again and stood in my heeled boots by the door, but still I walked up to Eric to kiss him again. He kissed back, deepened it, and kissed me again with his big hands holding my head like he was afraid it would fall off my body. When he kissed me, it kind of felt like it could because my body became all soft. I took a deep breath and dragged my hands over his naked chest, down over defined abs and the deep Adonis belt.

“Fuck Eric…” I said with a sigh and looked down. Eric dragged his fingers through my hair when I laid my cheek against his chest. He let me lay there for a while but then took a step back to pick up something on the nightstand. I looked at his hand and watched as he reached out for mine to lay the object in my palm. They were my wedding rings.

My wedding rings, with another man's name engraved in them.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #the crow #eric

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coopigeoncoo · 11 months ago

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Meat Cute, Chapter 2

Chapter Links: First, <- Chapter 2 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour! ---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Extermination came and went with you wrapped up in all the blankets from your bed, crammed into the walk-in cooler Hal used to age gigantic slabs of meat. Once the distant screams had died down you were quickly pulled from the fridge and put back to work, barely able to hold a knife in your frost nipped fingers.

“Lotsa screaming means lotsa bodies,” Hal explained, tying the strings of his apron around his wide hips in a tight double knot. “And lotsa bodies means lotsa meat.”

As though summoned by his words, a forceful knock sounded from the delivery entrance; a salesman bearing the first of many scavenged corpses sold to the shop for a quick buck.

You stared down at the man laid across your chopping block, his face contorted to showcase the abject terror of his final moments.

“I'm sorry this happened to you,” you murmured quietly, fingers tracing the jagged cut that had ripped the man open from pelvis to sternum. “But I promise to do a better job than they did.”

The angels had cut his life short.

And then you cut him into pieces.

It didn't seem particularly fair to you, but you supposed it was as balanced as things could be in Hell.

Hal, in a rare show of mercy, gave his employees the weekend off to recuperate from the pre and post Extermination rushes. You had been content to hole up inside your cramped apartment and sleep for the full two days, but once you remembered your promise to Ms. Rosie you managed to pull yourself out of bed and get dressed with a minimal amount of cursing.

It wasn't difficult to find her once you actually managed to wake up enough to stumble down your apartment stairs without breaking your neck. You'd pass by Franklin and Rosie's Emporium often enough running errands for Hal. It would be hard to avoid the boutique considering it was smack dab in the middle of main street; placing it along just about every route through town.

The Emporium offered a wide selection of impeccably tailored clothes you couldn't ever hope to afford with your meager earnings. It was nearly impossible to swallow back the sour burn of envy roiling in your belly at the sight of the smartly dressed women spinning in front of mirrors in their tailored waistcoats and silver buttoned shoes. You self consciously soothed out wrinkles in your burgundy colored skirt, the fabric likely permanently creased from being trapped under the tight sash of your butchery apron.

The checkout line moved slowly as every patron stopped to chat with Rosie or the woman standing beside her, and it felt like a small eternity had passed before you made it to the front of the queue. Rosie's eyes widened as she saw you, a bright smile stretching across her face as she quickly skirted around to the front of the counter.

“Take over from me, Franklin!” Rosie called out to her companion over her shoulder, motioning you to follow her with an excited wave of her hand. “I've got a special guest visiting!”

Rosie led you to a darling two person cafe table pushed into an alcove with a giant window overlooking the central square of Cannibal Town, where a barbershop quartet was starting to attract a fair bit of attention from passers by. Rosie was silent as she slid up behind you, but the weight of her aura was somehow palpable; like a humidity that clogged the air and made breathing a laborious task.

“It's pretty peaceful for a place called Cannibal Town, isn't it?” Rosie boasted, but you couldn't fault her for her pride. You knew from stories around town that the orderly life on display was the result of her tireless effort to secure a better life for the sinners under her rule.

“It is,” you agreed readily, sliding carefully into the chair that one of her attendants had pulled out for you while Rosie settled down across the table. “You've built a lovely community, Ms. Rosie.”

“Oh, aren't ya' just the sweetest thing!” Rosie chirped in delight, hoisting a tray of finger foods up under your nose. “Canapé?”

You were too nervous to be hungry, but grabbed a couple of crackers topped with thin slices of blood sausage and dollops of roasted marrow to be polite. Not sure what to say, you quickly popped one of the hors d'oeuvres into your mouth immediately and hoped Rosie would take hold of the conversational reins.

Rosie, mercifully, rose to the occasion.

“So, you seem to be fitting in pretty well around here. That's unusual these days,” she said, deftly pouring some piping hot bone broth into dainty porcelain tea cups. “Hard to find new sinners willing to live without television or cellular phones.”

You couldn't help but think of how much of your life had been squandered in front of screens; the endless hours of scrolling and watching and seeing and wanting- of wondering why your life never seemed to compare to the ones that clogged your social media feeds.

“Those- those things do me more harm than good, I think,” you admit between small bites of sausage.

“Oh, honey. Those gadgets are nothing but trouble for everyone,” Rosie cooed comfortingly before angling her head down to mumble into her cup “especially down here.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over,” Rosie laughed dismissively, pushing a platter of finger sandwiches towards your now empty plate. You grabbed the one with a thumb poking out, saving the sandwiches stuffed with choicer pinky digits for your host.

“It's nice to see you don't shy away from the…specialized fare Cannibal Town is known for,” Rosie said approvingly, watching as you skillfully de-nailed the finger in your sandwich. “Did working at the butcher shop help acclimate ya'?”

“A bit. I won't lie, it was really hard at first. I spent a lot of time pretending that I was eating other stuff- beef, pork, a really convincing soy substitute,” you admit. “But after a little while that started to feel, I don't know, disrespectful?”

“Oh?”

“It's like- this person is nourishing me. I am alive because of them. It didn't seem right to pretend that they were somehow less than what they were; especially when they were providing me with so much. Acknowledging their life, what they were-” you paused, considering your words along with the remaining phalange held between your fingers. “It's the least I can do. A way I can thank them.”

You feel a bit vulnerable from your confession, never having voiced your thoughts out loud before, and it takes you a moment to muster the courage to look up from your hands and meet your host’s gaze again. Rosie is positively beaming at you, her small nose crinkled in delight.

“I need you to promise me you'll try and get out more, sweetie. It's very inconsiderate for you to deprive the citizens of Cannibal Town of your company,” Rosie said, leaning over the table to place her hand on top of yours, the press of her fingers a balm to your touch-starved soul. “You're one of us now. It's time to start acting like it.”

You'd reluctantly started to make appearances around town. It started small, with short walks around the park when the belladonna began to bloom, followed by the weekly al fresco concerts once the early spring acid rains tapered off.

And then suddenly a switch seemed to flip. People would wave good morning to you from across the street, customers would ask about how your weekend was, and your coworkers invited you out for drinks after work. You'd gone from merely existing in Cannibal Town to really living in Cannibal Town.

You tried to not dwell on how much happier you were in Hell than you were on Earth, fearful about what exactly that said about the sort of person you were.

The years ticked by and before you knew it the workers at the butcher shop had surprised you with a lopsided devils food cake to celebrate your fifth death day.

“When you're facing down eternity you don't celebrate every single year,” Dorcas, the girl who usually worked the register, explained. “Five is the first milestone party, followed by twenty-five and fifty. They get more spaced out as time goes on.”

You had woken up early the next day, dehydrated with a headache pounding behind your eyeballs from overindulging at your death day celebration. Hal, in a show of incredible foresight, had scheduled you for the afternoon shift. With a mug of watery coffee in hand, you were slowly shambling to the threadbare armchair in the corner of your room when the broken radio on the side table suddenly began shooting off sparks; the device alight with an eerie green glow.

“SWEET SASSY MOLASSY,” you screamed, accidentally spilling coffee down the front of your dressing gown as you leaped away from the ancient box radio.

“Salutations! Good to be back on the air!” a staticky voice greeted, the cheery tone completely at odds with your abject misery as you pulled your soaked nightgown away from your chest to cool your singed flesh.

The radio was loud, the volume knob having been set to maximum when it suddenly powered on; but the sound inside your apartment was nothing compared to the uproarious cheers you heard coming from outside as the citizens of Cannibal Town overjoyed by the return of their favorite radio program.

#pigeoncoos🕊#hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x female reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 10 months ago

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Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Hey, y'all! This update is extremely late & I'm so sorry for the wait (that rhymed lol don't look at me). I've been so busy preparing for my new job in August & getting ready to start school that updating this story slipped my mind lol. BUT I am still writing it! I really wanna finish this story. So to make up for the slow updates, I decided to drop three new chapters instead of two. Please enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

********

SEVEN: HIT ‘EM UP!

You arrive in the tiny, dusty, damn-near abandoned town of Bull’s Creek by the next morning.

You three didn’t stop for a night of rest, only taking breaks to feed the horses and let them rest their hooves before continuing on your journey. Most of what you do is on Reneigh’s back: brushing your teeth; eating your snacks; power naps. You now feel sweaty and tired, but not exhausted, only happy to finally be at your destination.

Bull’s Creek is as depressing as it is quiet. Nothing moves but a tumbleweed that noisily rolls across the dusty road among the disturbingly quiet shops and boutiques that you’re sure once were brimming with life and vibrancy, but are now dingy and sad-looking. “Beauty, ain’t it?” Gojo sniggers as he and his horse totter beside you.

“Where is everybody?” you question, feeling eerily uncomfortable with the silence. You half expect to be ambushed because of it. “Most of ‘em moved because of Benji’s crew members takin’ over,” Geto explains. “Sad. Most of the civilians had been here for years, but couldn’t take the terror anymore.”

“Buuut,” Gojo interrupts with a grin, “lucky for the ones who stayed, we’re here! And we’ll make sure we send the baddies on their way.” You continue to look around for someone, anyone, in this ghost town. “So how are we supposed to find these guys?” you ask. “Just ask around?”

“Exactly that, little miss,” Geto chuckles, suddenly coming to a stop in front of you. “And we’ve found just the spot.” You and Gojo stop your horses in front of a small saloon where you can just hear the sound of music and chatter. Gojo hops off of his horse first and goes to help you down, but you ignore him, choosing to get down yourself.

You walk by, ignoring Gojo’s pout, and look up at the bar’s sign coated in dust: “Bull’s Bar,” you read, hearing Gojo giggle. “That’s so original,” he comments as he pats the holster carrying Hollow Purple.

He goes in without even waiting for you or Geto, but his partner doesn’t seem to mind. “The woman who wrote us asked us to meet her here in her letter,” he explains as he walks you inside. “So she should be…”

His words die when he opens the wooden doors and lets them swing shut. The sound of them creaking is the only sound among the silence in the bar. The bar is small with tables covered in cowskin, bullheads mounted behind the bar, and every eye in the place on you, Geto, and Gojo, including the piano player in the corner.

It’s beyond uncomfortable and you feel your face prickle with nervous sweat beneath your bandana. But Gojo and Geto are immune to discomfort as they confidently walk towards the bar. “Rough crowd,” Geto mutters under his breath. You nod in agreement, keeping a close hand on your hip.

The bartender watches you come to the bar and sit, slowly wiping off a glass. He is tall and burly with unruly, spiked brown hair and a lollipop sticking out of his mouth. “So what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here, mister?” Gojo kindly asks.

The bartender doesn’t say anything at first; just continues to stare you all down. The music hasn’t resumed yet and that makes this moment even more tense. “Kusakabe,” he says, his voice smooth and rough. “What will y’all have?”

Gojo’s smile widens, pleased. “Jack n’ Coke for me and my partner; Sherly Temple for the lady.” You shoot him a look that could kill. “All Jack n’ Cokes, please,” Geto sighs, passing Kusakabe a couple of coins. He takes them and nods, still giving you a suspicious look that has your skin crawling.

“U-Uh…excuse me?” a small, feminine voice asks behind you. You turn, finding a young, petite girl with long, sky-blue hair cut into a bang standing there, looking nervous. “You’re Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, right?” The duo turns to face her now, making her face go beat red. “That, we are, ma’am,” Geto says, tipping his hat at her. “And you’re Miwa, I’m presumin’?”

The girl damn near pops a blood vessel. “T-That’s correct, yes!” she stuttering replies. Another young girl with two blonde ponytails comes up beside her. “You ain’t ask ‘em to sign your book, Miwa?” she snorts. “That’s all you’ve been talkin’ about since we showed up here.” Miwa gapes at the girl, mortified. “Momo!” she shrieks. “That was private!”

“Miwa!” a male voice calls suddenly from across the room. A young man comes hurrying up to the two girls, tall and handsome with a spiked, black ponytail and a scar on his right cheek. “Are you alright? Who are they?” He ticks his eyes between you three suspiciously. “Mechamaru, it’s okay,” Miwa soothes him, gently stroking his arm. “They’re here to help us.”

“Friends of yours?” Gojo chuckles, not at all phased by this. Mecamaru glares at him. “I’m her boyfriend, actually,” he sharply corrects the gunslinger. Miwa nods at Momo who barely even smiles. “This is Momo. She’s a Bull’s Creek native, just like me. She told me not to write you guys!”

Momo narrows her eyes at her friend. “Way to throw me under the bus,” she huffs. “It was only because I didn’t want more trouble comin’ into this town!” Geto nods understandably. “We ain’t here for trouble, little miss…well, not the kind that’ll get y’all killed. We just want the four we came here for.”

“And who would that be?” Kusakabe asks suspiciously. “Who the fuck are y’all to come into my place of business askin’ around like y’all own the damn place?” You go to put your hand on your glock, but Gojo stops you, shaking his head at you.

“We don’t mean no harm,” Geto gently says, “but we’ve got business in this town and with her.” He nods at Miwa. “She wrote a letter to us askin’ for help to save you from the four takin’ over this town.”

The three younglings share a wary look with each other. “Don’t say their names,” Mechamaru warns. “They’ve got a tight hold on this town already. Last I heard about them is that they’re livin’ up in the mountains beyond the creek among the riches they snatched from the town.”

“We’ll take you to them!” Momo excitedly announces. But Mechamaru shakes his head. “No,” he firmly says. “You two are stayin’ right here. I’ll take them.” While Momo tuts in disappointment, Miwa looks damn starstruck by her boo.

Gojo gulps down his drink, finishing it off with a burp. “Fine with us, just as long as we get to where we need to. But before that…” He takes an ink pen from his pocket, smiling at Miwa. “Who wanted an autograph?”

But before Miwa, who has now turned red, can hand over her book, Kusakabe stops her. “Hang on.” He leans over the bar toward the three of you, his eyes deadly and intimidating. “You get them and then you get the fuck out of my town. We don’t need no more trouble here.”

With a silent nod, you three agree and Mechamaru guides you into the mountains.

*********

The creek is quiet when you make it up the hill.

Too quiet. Though the soft sloshing of the water should be comforting, it’s damn disarming to you as you walk with the duo and Mechamaru along the creek yards away from Bull’s Creek (funny enough). The air is sweet, the sky is blue, and you know danger lurks.

You finally come to a shabby-looking house up on a grassy hill yards down from you four. The roof is missing some tiles, one wall is caging in, and it looks abandoned. “They should be in there,” Mechamaru says, pointing at the house. “They stay there because there are trails in the woods to escape through if the law ever happened to sniff ‘em out. But they haven’t for months because so many people are too scared to speak up for fear of being killed.”

The young man stares you all down as you silently examine the home. “You gonna get them out of here?” he asks, hope in his eyes. The duo doesn’t answer, so you do, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Thank you, Mechamaru,” you gently say. “We’ll take it from here.” ‘Yes, we’ll get them out of here for you.’

Mechamaru seems to be happy with your words. Meanwhile, Geto is stringing up the horses to a nearby post while Gojo spits his cigarette out of his mouth and crushes it under his heel. This is just ordinary work for them. “Go on back to your girl,” the white-haired outlaw says with a wink. “She’s a cutie.”

Mechamaru narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything back. Instead, he backpedals and hurries back the way he came towards town. Once gone, you follow the duo up the hill to the small house, the grassblades tickling your ankles as you move.

Finally, you come to the wooden front door padlocked shut. “So how are we doin’ this?” you ask. “Do we just bust in there and–”

You’re rudely cut off by Gojo’s foot smashing into the padlock, forcing it open. The door opens with a long creaking sound like in a horror film.

The way this house looks feels like a horror film too: stained, old furniture in the living area; dishes in the kitchen sink and rotten food on the counter down the long hallway leading to the back door; ripped curtains covering the stained windows, making the entire downstairs dark and dreary. The smell in the air is rotten and rancid like something died in here. You cover your mouth despite the bandana covering your lower face.

As you creep inside with the duo, your hand on your holster, your eyes shift from left to right, top to bottom. You look for a shadow; some slight movement from around a corner or behind something. The floorboards ominously creek under your boots, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “There’s no one here,” you whisper.

While Gojo stays behind, Geto walks ahead of you towards the circle of furniture, his gun hanging from his hand. He places a hand on one of the leather armchairs and shakes his head. “No,” he protests. “There is. Feel the chair.” You carefully walk over and place a hand on the seat, your hear thumping wildly. “It’s warm,” you gasp. “Someone is–”

“Y/N, look out!” Geto shouts from behind you, but it’s too late. Your words are cut off when you suddenly feel something snatching you by the ankle, causing you to fall onto your back. The noose tightens and begins to pull you throughout the house on your back despite your screams. You try to grab the knife in your pocket, but you can’t. You’re moving too fast.

Finally, you stop and face two men with very bad intentions in their eyes. One of them is nothing short of a pretty boy: beautiful bone structure in his face with high cheekbones, dimples, blue eyes, and a Colgate smile. If it isn’t for the gun in your face, you’d think he was a model. This is ‘Angelface’.

“Well, well, look what we’ve got here, Zankoku: the prettiest little trespassor we’ve gotten.” He smirks at his partner. “What do you reckon we should do with her?”

His partner, Zankoku, looks like he’s all types of crazy: unruly curls that fall in his face; a bumpy nose like he was punched too many times in his lifetime; a scar running from his left ear down to the corner of his mouth; wide, wild eyes that frighten you more than the gun pressing against your noggin.

“I’ve got one idea that would make her sorry,” he growls, his voice like jagged glass to you. “Do you know what we do to trespassin’ bitches like you?” Angelface shakes his head at Zankoku. “Now, now, that’s no way to talk to a lady!” he mockingly tuts.

“Y/N!” Geto shouts from beyond. You manage to twist around to look behind you and find the duo running to save you. However, they are stopped by a woman who pops up from under the staircase, pointing a gun at Geto’s head and a man jumping out from behind a wall to pull Gojo back and put a knife at his throat.

The only woman in this crew, Makima, is tall and slender with long red hair and cold eyes. “Don’t move,” she warns. “You move and either I put this bullet in you or Arata puts that knife in your partner’s throat.” Arata is mute as you’ve been told, his tongue cut out long ago. But what he lacks in words he makes up for with his knives that are as long as his hair that cascades down to his hips.

“Or we fuck up this cutie’s face,” Angelface growls, pushing the gun into your cheek. “Never thought I’d meet the famous Fatale Femme in the flesh.” He uses the barrel to pull your bandana down, revealing your nose and mouth to him. “And see her gorgeous face,” he cackles. “You’re almost prettier than me.” You could spit at him.

“You motherfuckers got a lot of nerve comin’ here,” Zankoku snarls. “First you leave like y’all are better than us and then you start workin’ for the fuck ass law?”

Gojo smiles despite nearly grazing the knife at his neck. “Good to see you again too, Zankoku,” he titters. “I guess this is our welcome wagon?” Makima rolls her eyes, annoyed. “God, you always talked too much,” she huffs. “I should put some lead in that throat right now just to shut you up.”

She cocks her gun, moving it away to point at Gojo while she slips another out of her holster and points it at Geto. The entire room has turned into a warzone. One wrong step and you’re dead. “Listen,” Geto says, raising his voice. “We don’t want no trouble.”

“Oh, shut up!” Makima spits. “Why else would y’all be here? You’re obviously here to wrangle us up like cattle and bring us into the sheriff.”

“Y’all tryna get in a good place with the law?” Angelface scoffs, grinning at the gunslingers. “Tryin’ to become good guys ‘cause prison scared y’all? So sad to see what happened with that train.” You can almost feel the rage radiating off of Geto and Gojo in waves. “We don’t want to put y’all in prison,” Geto says, his voice roiling with simmering anger. “We just want information on Benji. We need to find him.”

The bandit crew share a brief look. “Why would we tell you?” Angelface scoffs, eyes narrowed. “We don’t know where he is anyway. We were in Cherrywood before he fucked outta town months ago. We haven’t seen him since.” As soon as he says it, his partners look at him like he just sealed their fate. And he did.

“You dumbass!” Makima hisses. The gears in your head are turning and you share a look with Geto and Gojo. “Benji was in Cherrywood?” you ask, finally speaking. “When? Why?”

But the cold barrels of the guns pressing into your head and chin stop you. “Enough,” Makima growls. “We don’t have to tell you fuck shit. Now hold still so we don’t fuck up our home.”

She points her guns at Geto while Arata pushes the knife further into Gojo’s throat. You stare at the guns in your face, shaking. “Sorry we couldn’t have any fun, darlin,” Angelface sighs. “You’ll make the most beautiful corpse though.” Staring into the barrels is like staring into death and suddenly, you see a flash of your mother’s face.

You don’t think. You just do. Quickly, you wedge your hand under your ass and pull a knife out. In a flash, you stick the knife into Angelface’s side, making him scream in pain. Immediately, Makima shoots but Geto ducks and swings his leg to trip her. Gojo elbows Arata in the face and rolls away just as Arata cups his nose to stop the blood flow. Makima, who fell, quickly rises and pulls the trigger on both guns.

Bullets immediately start flying from Zankoku and Makima aimed for Geto and Gojo who you’re sure are hiding. You have no time to see where though, too focused on your attacker. Angelface staggers back and drops the gun, holding his wounded side. “You fuckin’ bitch!” he bellows. “You’ll pay for that! Kill her, Zankoku!”

Zankoku is momentarily distracted, too busy popping shells. You take that loophole to cut yourself free with the bloody knife and kick him in the back. He staggers, but not enough. He turns around, baring his dirty teeth at you. “You,” he growls and raises his gun. He suddenly falls onto his knees, revealing Gojo standing behind him with a gun that whacked him in the back of the head.

A bullet zooms over his head and Gojo quickly covers you. “Over here!” he yells as he drags you into the kitchen as quickly as possible.

Geto quickly crawls in behind you and rips the table up to turn it over to serve as a shield from the bullets. Gojo pulls you behind the overturned table. You sit there, the three of you, as bullets whiz past you, breaking windows and putting holes in the walls. “She’s still shooting!” you announce among the flying bullets. “This bitch is crazy!”

Geto busies himself firing back at Makima from behind the table while Gojo points at the back door. “You go out there,” he tells you. “We’ll take care of her in here.”

He slides his gun out of his holster and cocks it. “Just wait for us with the horses,” he whispers. “We’ll find you.” So you go, hurrying over to the backdoor as fast as you can on your hands and knees.

You turn for a second to see Arata stabbing through the table right above Gojo’s head. You itch to help him and Geto both, but you know they’d tell you to get out and save yourself. So you keep going. When you finally make it, you shove the door open with your shoulder and roll out into the open, landing on your back in some grass. Quickly, you look up, squinting in the sun.

The backyard is nothing but an empty pig pen and a stretch of forest. Down below the slope of the hill the house is on is the creek and beyond that, your horses. On wobbly legs, you get up and try to run, but two arms wrapping around you stop you. One tightens around your midsection while the other wraps around your neck, nearly choking you.

“Hel–!” Your scream is cut off by a choke as you struggle to breathe with the arms squeezing you tight than a vice.

“Gotcha,” Zankoku chuckles. “Stupid bitch, thinkin’ you could run from me…but I’m not goin’ to prison. So I’ll let nature take ya.” He begins to walk with you as you struggle helplessly in his arms, not even able to reach your weapons.

When you realize where he’s taking you, it’s too late: you’re suddenly being dangled over the side of the rushing water of the creek. Without a warning, Zankoku drops you in.

Your body plunges into the icy depths of the water, shocking you to the core. You immediately swim to the surface and gulp down the air. The waves are rough and wild, splashing you repeatedly in the face as you struggle to reach for a rock, a tree branch, anything to stop you from going downstream.

Zankoku stands at the bank and pats his knee once. A horse comes running from out of the forest, stopping at his feet and allowing him to climb on. “Have fun with the fishes, bitch!” he cackles before galloping off on his horse upstream.

“Wait!” you scream, so loud that your throat goes raw. You watch helplessly as Zankoku disappears, growing smaller the farther the water takes you. You try to pedal to stay afloat, but the current is too rough and the water too deep. You can’t feel the bottom. “Gojo!” you wail out. “Geto, help!”

All that answers you is the water flooding your ears and mouth, salty and overbearing. All of your senses are taken over by it as the current swallows you up. Tears of desperation begin to slip down your cheeks, sobs leaving your mouth. You once again feel alone. Abandoned. Just like all those years ago. And you’re tired. So, so tired.

Finally giving in to the creek and the ache in your muscles, you let the current take you and find yourself going beneath the ice-cold, salty depths of water. But you don’t sink. Just as quickly as you went under, you’re suddenly pulled back up by some invisible force yanking on your arm. You look up into the sun’s rays, wondering if it’s God.

But when you turn to look, you realize that it’s Geto. He is hanging off the side of the bank, boots and pants muddy, grunting as he struggles to pull you out. He finally slips in and yanks you to his body, both of you floating in the water together. “Keep your eyes open, Y/N!” he yells among the rush. “Geto,” you try to say, but your voice is so weak that it gets carried away by the water.

Geto swims to the side of the creek with one arm and quickly grabs an upturned tree root to pull you both up and out of the water. “I’ve gotcha,” he huffs, dragging you into the mud once he’s on the surface. He then pulls you into the grass and finally releases you.

When he does, the shakes start. And the shivers. Your body convulses as if it’s back in the water and not in the warm sun on dry land. You can’t stop. It’s as if your body has kicked itself into fight or flight. Your fingers tremble and your heart pounds, causing your breath to become labored. “Y/N?” Geto questions. You don’t see him. All you see is the blue sky above you.

“C-C-C…” You don’t know what you’re trying to say. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Geto’s handsome face appears above you and his expression softens when he realizes what’s happening. “Y/N, you’re havin’ a panic attack,” he says. He slowly picks you up and places his hands on your forearms.

“Breathe,” he demands, his voice and eyes firm. “I need you to breathe, Y/N, okay?” You shake your head, still trembling like a leaf. “I-I can’t,” you gasp. “C-Can’t…” It’s a struggle to form a coherent sentence. Your brain can’t keep up, sending warning signals to your body when there isn’t even any danger anymore.

“Look at me, darlin’,” Geto coos. His big, calloused hands hold your cheeks, willing you to look at him. “Watch me, okay?”

You do, hypnotized by his warm, soulful eyes. “Do what I do, slowly,” he instructs. “In.” His chest expands.

“And out.” His chest falls. He does it again and you mirror to the best of your ability. It’s shaky and choppy at first, but soon, your breathing is less labored.

Then your heartbeat slows and your body relaxes in his touch. All the while, he is gentle and patient. “That’s it,” he says, nodding. “It’s alright now. I’ve got you now.” And you believe it. You believe that you are safe. How the fuck did he do that?

A whistle pierces the air from down below the hill. You look to see Gojo jogging uphill with the horses. His smile fades when he sees you and Geto, soaking wet and coated in mud. “What happened?” he demands. Quickly, you stand without Geto’s help and wipe at your snotty nose. “It’s not important,” you sniffle. “Did you get her?”

Though Gojo still looks concerned, he doesn’t push it. “We got them,” he corrects you. “Angelface is knocked out cold ‘cause of blood loss thanks to your knife, but the other three are conscience so we should be able to talk ‘em.” You sigh, relived.

You hop on your horses and ride back up to the house where, sure enough, the four bandits are bound tight in a rope tied to the pig pen, back to back. Angelface is slumped over, his side stained in blood. Meanwhile, his partners look downright scared, no longer having their weapons to help them.

You and the duo stomp over to them, relishing the way they shiver at the sight of you. “Please don’t kill us,” Makima whimpers. Geto kneels before her, his expression like steel. “Then tell us what we want to know: Benji the Bandit. Where is he?”

Gojo kneels beside his partner and pulls down his blindfold to reveal his piercing, blue eyes. It’s enough to make the bandits cowar. No weapons or force needed. It makes you wonder just what the duo did to them while you were in that creek. “The last time we saw him was in Cherrywood,” Zankoku admits. “He was conspirin’ with the outlaw Valentine to rob a train.”

“Valentine?” you gasp. “He works for Benji?” You look at Geto and Gojo as realization hits you. Could it be that Benji was behind that train masscre? Could it be that he framed his two former employees? “After the train massacre, Benji cut us some money and said he was headin’ to Sage County to hide out,” Makima adds. “That’s all we know, we swear!”

Gojo smiles, happy with this turnout. “Thank you for your participation,” he sweetly says as he stands up. He reties his blindfold before letting out a whistle that echos across the land.

You hear the sound of horse hooves and thudding footsteps, each sound mingling into one loud heartbeat. You turn, findinding law enforcement and other townsmen following close behind running out of the brush of trees and nature towards you. Among them is Kusakabe sporting a golden star on his shirt as the sheriff of Bull’s Creek (who also so happens to be a bartender).

“They’re all yours, fellas!” Gojo yells, moving away so Kusakabe and his posse can swarm the bandits like flies. Other townspeople follow shortly after and with them, they bring rewards for you and the gunslinging duo: money; food and spices for cooking; whiskey and ale; and more importantly, thanks.

Despite your reputation and appearance, the people stare you in your face and pour their hearts out to you. They shower you with gratitude, give you warm smiles, and shake your hand. It is overwhelming, but at the same time, it makes you feel good. It gives you a better feeling than how you feel after smoking a gunslinger and taking off down the road: cold and vengeful. Now, to see the very people you’ve helped with your own eyes, it makes you rethink your career path.

Nearly an hour later after collecting your rewards and goods to place in a sack for the road, Gojo comes up to you with a big, fluffy towel while Geto chats with some of the victims. “Gotcha somethin’,” he says, wrapping you up in the fluffy thing.

You don’t look into his eyes, still feeling weird from earlier. Once you’re wrapped up tight, he gives you space and chomps down on a sugar cookie given to him by a sweet old lady earlier as her thanks. “So where to now?” you ask, glancing at him. He just smirks at you.

Sage County it is, then.

**********

The night is still and so is the steely, cold, unforgiving prison cell Valentine sleeps in that night.

He’s been in the Black Water County prison for days now, eating their terrible food and facing terrible mistreatment at the hands of the guards. He is housed in a private cell, isolated from other prisoners. Being a wanted criminal outlaw means that you have many enemies, so the sheriff thought it was best to keep Valentine isolated to avoid Valenine being attacked….not because he cares, but because he wants Valentine alive for his trial.

Valentine hasn’t tried to escape, waiting for the right time to do so. He has decided to lay low for now and play nice, keeping to himself and doing what the guards tell him to do. Meanwhile, in his head, he fantasizes about the moment he can put some bullets in those damn gunslingers and wrap his hands around your lying, backstabbing throat.

Right now, as he lies asleep on his pad, he can almost see your face turning purple as he wrings your neck. He can almost feel the way your hands claw pathetically at his, your body slowly going limp like a rag doll as he–

Clang.

Valentine immediately opens his eyes and sits up in his cell, looking towards the strange sound of metal banging against something solid. He squints into the dark hallway outside of his barred cell door. “H-Hello?” he stutteringly whispers in the darkness. “Is someone there?”

There isn’t an answer for a while, making him feel as if he imagined it. But then he hears footsteps and the young guard usually posted at his cell appears, staggering slightly as he does so. In his hand, he carries a tray of sloppy Joe and beer, possibly for himself, but Valentine makes a joke anyway.

“What’s that?” he scoffs. “You finally bringin’ me some decent dinner, boy? Do you even know what time of night it is?!” The young guard doesn’t answer. Instead, he teeters forward and falls onto his face like a tree that was just axed, falling at Valentine’s feet.

“Shit!” Valentine gasps, jumping and backing up against the cold cell wall. The food and beer spill along the floor, just like the blood pooling from the back wound the guard is sporting. That’s when he sees it: the knife in the guard’s back.

More footsteps follow and Valentine shakily looks up at the shadow figure entering the hallway, dressed in black clothes with a bandana covering his mouth. As he gets closer, Valentine cowares against the wall, shivering. “W-What did you–”

“Shh!” the stranger shushes him. He bends down near the guard’s body and takes off his black glove. There, Valentine recognizes the black rose tattoo on his knuckles. The flower of death. Benji the Bandit’s signature symbol. “The boss sent me here to get you outta here,” he whispers. He begins to dig into the guard’s back pocket and retrieves a ring of keys which he uses to unlock Valentine’s cell.

The door opens with a click and the stranger slides it open, narrowing his eyes at the outlaw. “If you don’t wanna spend the rest of your sorry-ass life in here, follow me and keep quiet.” It doesn’t take Valentine long to make up his mind. He would take anything over wearing an ugly black and white jumpsuit and eating God-awful slop.

Quietly, he follows close behind the stranger down the hallway and around a corner between two other wards of cells. Commotion begins to arise from each ward, prisoners awakening and realizing that someone is escaping. The stranger bends down to move a tile from the floor out of its place, revealing a deep hole that must have taken days to dig. “Down here!” he hisses before ducking down into the manmade hole.

The prisoners begin to knock against their cell doors and walls, yelling and hollering. Quickly, Valentine gets down onto his stomach and slides himself down into the tight, dark hole. He has never escaped in this manner before and he can’t see why any criminal does it.

It’s dank, dark, and dirt keeps getting in his mouth and nose. Not to mention how physically taxing it is. He grunts and struggles to get through certain spaces that are too tight, shimmying along in his elbows and stomach.

But finally, he sees an opening and the stranger pull himself up out of the hole. Valentine follows close after, pushing himself through the opening by his hands. With a gasp, he rises from the hole, breathing in the open air and the night sky above. He’s never been so happy to be above ground before.

But he isn’t at all happy to see who is waiting for him. Other than the stranger, Valentine’s eyes trail up the strong legs of a black Bronco before settling on the man sitting on its back.

He is a big man––at least six feet––and the size of a bear with long hair, a salt-n-pepper beard, an eyepatch, and a gold tooth that glints at him in the moonlight. He wears black everything: a black hat; black slacks; black boots; a black jacket adorned with fringe. He is the most terrifying man to exist in the Wild West. “Benji,” he gasps.

Benji’s smile grows, laugh lines and wrinkles appearing by his eyes. “Nice to see you too, Valentine,” he says in his deep, gruff voice that could make any man tremble. “How was prison for you?”

He doesn’t answer. He rises from his knees and dusts himself off, looking towards the prison. They are right outside of its wired fence, deep in the woods that surround it. “Ya know, crawlin’ through dirt as an escape route ain’t really my style,” he grumbles.

Benji keeps smiling, menacingly so. “You’re lucky I even sent someone to get your ass bein’ that you fucked up and got yourself caught.” He nods at his goon who has settled onto his own horse.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Valentine protests. “That damn idiot duo came after me and threatened to toss me in prison!” He seethes, thinking about you. “And now the bitch that they’re with is against me. She turned out to be the Fatale Femme.”

He has no problem throwing you under the bus. You ruined his entire operation! He was so sure Geto and Gojo would take his offer and let him go free. He was going to leave the county, maybe go overseas, and make his life from there.

It’s bad enough to let Benji once again rope him into another one of his schemes. He just knew that robbing that Cherrywood train would bring him bad luck, but he listened to his boss anyway. “All ya need to do is grab the money with my men and kill the witnesses. You’ll get your cut and I’ll get mine.”

Down on his luck and in need of some quick cash, Valentine agreed, but also had questions: “What about Geto and Gojo? Why are they apart of this? You haven’t worked with them in years.”

Benji just smiled, puffing on his cigar. “Because they need to be reminded that they can’t run from me,” he answered, sending chills down Valentine’s spine. “They’ll never know that I was behind this, but that won’t matter. They think they can suddenly become these saviors, but when the law find them on that train with a bunch of dead bodies, they’ll finally understand that they can’t run from their sins.”

It was punishment for leaving Benji. He wanted the Gunslingers to suffer. Valentine just wanted the money, so he went with it and ran. Now, he not only wants revenge on the duo but on you too.

Benji’s brows rise at the mention of you. “The Fatale Femme teamin’ up with my old gunslingers, eh?” He ponders this, stroking his beard. “Then that means they’re a threat to me, but not for long. That means we’ll have to take them all out of the equation.”

He looks down at Valentine like he’s no more than a bug, those dark eyes like a shark’s. “Listen to me very carefully,” he whispers and Valentine roughly swallows his spit. “I only got ya out of here because I’ve got another job for ya.”

Valentine nods, hanging onto every word: I got word that those two gunslingin’ maggots are headin’ out of the West toward North,” Benji explains. “They’ll be passin’ through Sage County. I need you to follow ‘em with my crew and meet me in Sage County. Attack ‘em on the road if you need to.”

Valentine nods, placing all of these instructions in the back of his mind. “But why are you goin’ to Sage County?” he asks.

Benji pulls a cigarette out of his pocket and holds it between his teeth. “I got a call from four of my old workers earlier after they got arrested in Bull’s Creek. I know Geto and Gojo, so I know that they ask around and obviously know where I’m headed.” He pulls out a match box and lights a match in one strike.

He then lights his cig and takes a puff, holding it between his ringed, inked fingers. “If they show up, I wanna kill them myself–especially that nosey bitch they’ve got with ‘em,” he spits. “I can’t have no one lookin’ for me.”

The severity and seriousness of his words are set by the silence that looms over them along with the ice in Benji’s eyes. Finally, he glares at Valentine. “What are ya waitin’ on, idiot?” he huffs. “Get goin’ and don’t disappoint me.”

He snaps the reins on his horse and takes off into the woods, leaving his goon and Valentine alone.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #my fic shit #black writers #jjk smut #cowboy gojo #cowboy geto #satosugu #satoru gojo x black!reader #suguru geto x black!reader #cowboy!au #cowboy!geto #cowboy!gojo #poly smut #poly love #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn romance

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terresdebrume · 7 months ago

Note

Happy ficversary! For the prompts: "I already lost you once, I'm not going to lose you again" and/or "get behind me."

Thanks for the prompt, friend! I decided to go for some plastic for this one :D

It's set somewhere post canon, probably in London^^

If anyone else wants to send a prompt, the list is here ^^

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Mr. Emerson's footsteps, heavy and slow, pace closer to the walk-in closet Crystal and Niko took refuge in. Niko, one hand firmly clamped on her mouth, listens to the sound like her life depends on it, largely because it does.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Mr. Emerson, quiet but for his footsteps and the sound of his baseball bat dragging along the floor, peels away to the bathroom. Niko, her heart in her mouth, scans the darkness of the closet and finds Crystal's silhouette, a sliver of cold white light falling down on her face, making her look gray.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

A shiver crawls down Niko's spine with the distressing precision of a chipped fingernail. Whimpering shakily, she turns to the door, where the artificial light of the bedroom fails to produce more than a dim outline, and has to bite down on a squeak of terror when something tugs at her sleeve.

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

The footsteps grow closer again.

"Get behind me," Crystal whispers.

Niko can only just make out one of her eyes, wide but determined, and the vague silhouette of her hand, hold onto something. It looks way too small for a weapon. Panting in terror, Niko manages to unclench her fingers from around her face and hiss:

"Are you mad?"

"No," Crystal says, tense but determined. "I have a plan."

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Mr. Emerson must be at the bedroom's door now.

Niko whimpers, as quietly as she can, and closes her eyes as hard as she can. It doesn't help.

"Niko," Crystal insists, "get behind me."

"You don't have your powers," Niko points out, because she doesn't know what Crystal can do without them in this situation.

"I don't care," Crystal retorts, sounding like she very badly wants to shout, "I'm not losing you again!"

Stomp, stomp, stomp.

Niko falls quiet, too terrified to protest when Crystal puts herself between Niko and the door. She watches, paralyzed, as one then two darker lines appear under the bottom of the door. Slowly, too slowly, a darker spot appears in the sliver of vertical light that marks the seam of the door. It creeps up, inch by inch, until it reaches the round doorknob.

Niko brings both hands up to her mouth. Slowly, the doorknob twists, a high pitched metal whine filling the closet. Niko wants to hold onto Crystal's jacket, to fold herself down until she can hide behind Crystal's petite stature.

The doorjamb clicks.

The door cracks open. Niko holds her breath.

One inch. Niko winces, biting her lips behind her hands.

Two inches. Tears slide down her cheeks.

A face slowly creeps into the closet, but as soon as it makes eye contact with Crystal, she screams and shoves something in Mr. Emerson's face. Niko hears a psst sound, smells insecticide, and is yanked by the arm at full speed.

They barrell out of the bedroom and into the corridor, down the stairs that nearly trip Niko again, into the foyer, then out onto the street, Mr. Emerson screaming murder on their heels. Niko follows Crystal's death grip around the corner, onto a side street, and into the first couture boutique they come across.

"Crystal," she tries to say as they make their way to the stairs at the back. "Crystal—"

"Just a bit more," Crystal mutters, tearing a few articles from their place.

They shove their way to the changing cabins, where Crystal drags them into the same cubicle. The shop is small, and the cabin truly doesn't have the room for two, but Niko doesn't care. She's pressed right against Crystal, an insecticide spray and what looks like a pregnancy dress between them.

"Crystal," Niko says, short of breath, "you're never going to wear that dress.

Crystal looks at her like she's grown a second head. Niko doesn't let that deter her.

"Also, you saved my life."

"Yeah," Crystal replies, dazed, making no move to let go of any of her bounty. "I told you, I'm not losing you again."

They look at each other, eye to eye. They're both panting, sweaty from the run and the adrenaline. Both wide eyed, and so, so very close to one another. Niko, her heart beating, says:

"Crystal?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm going to kiss you now."

Crystal makes a high pitched uh-huh sound, and meets her halfway.

They keep kissing until one of the store clerks politely clears her throat next to their cubicle.

#dead boy detectives #palaski #niko sasaki #Crystal Palace #matt writes #assbox games #Fic: In the closet #10n #20n

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saphirafoxgirlspost1 · 2 years ago

Text

(Open Rp) "Enter the Dragon King"

A Long time ago in the Small Town Where everything Is peaceful as Usual...well...Almost Peaceful. Everyone was hearing about the Son of the Mayor Name Damien Cartman Who has cuckhold on His own fiance Who is Name Saphira Lorraina Fox with Many Different other Women, She was Furious and began to Cussing him out like a sailor then She grabbed him by the ear and Dragged His Sorry cheaten ass to His Fathers office and she said to the Mayor Cartman,

Saphira: "Mr. Cartman, I found your Son Sleeping around with 20 different other women in Our bed we're suppose to be shared with..He's a "CUCKER"!"

Mr Cartman: "A Cucker!, Please Don't call my son like that..there's got to be another way to settle this.."

Saphira: "No can do sir, I'm breaking Off the Engagement! I will not marry To someone who is a "Cucker" and Cause a huge Trouble in this town, I saw Him Tourmented and harassed those good people! He Ruined Mr. Leo's good Veggies stands and even Mistreated poor ol'Mrs. Maria at the Bridal Boutique."

Mr Cartman: " He Did what!?, *turns to Damien* Damien! Whats the Meaning of this!?"

Damien:" Dad please! She's Lying Honest!"

Then an angry Town Folk Shouted and got angry, the Farmer told the Mayor That His son Ruined his Crops and Everyone else told him everything...then the mayor was Furious and Apoligize to everyone Including saphira For all the troubles his Moronic Son has Caused...and then Saphira threw an engagement ring and said "I hope those Women are worth it ya "Cucker!" She turns away and head home and remove all the Stuff...but Then..She hears the Loud Roar and Saw a Huge Dragon Flown From the Mighty mountains swooping Down and terrorizing the town...and She heard that this Huge Dragon is the King Of all Dragons...He is known as "The Dragon King"...She gasp and was shocked about this creature...after the Dragon returns to its Lair...Apparently..The Mayor Begged the Dragon king to Spare this town..but the Dragon king Decided to tell him that he wants a Lovely Maiden Who is beautiful and faire and Sent her Up to the Mountains to the Castle Ruins where the House Of Dragons was Once Stood before the war...So Saphira Volunteered to be the sacrificed, The Mayor Bows and thanked her...So Saphira head off...and when she got up to the Mighty mountains and to the Castle ruins...When She sees it..She Dressed up in Pure beautiful Kimono and wears her beautiful Crown...There's one thing that mayor and everyone else Did now know that Saphira, Is The Princesss of Sakutopia in Disguised. After changing into her royal Outfit and wears a cloak..She went inside and saw the scratches and also burn marks on the walls....Then..She made it to the Throne room and she said," Dragon King, I am Sent here as a maiden sacrifice...Come Forth, Let me See thy Face" Her voice echoing turns into silence until She hears the Sinister but seductive laughing..She turns around and saw a Same dragon once before and She said.." Who are you Dragon king?" Then he said...

#Open Rp #romance #Drama #Dragon King #Spring

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silly-little-gooses · 1 year ago

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the inheritance games characters at disneyland

the group rents out the park for themselves

Jameson LOVES thrill rides (Tower of Terror/Guardians of the Galaxy is his favorite.)

Xander buys every single snack imaginable then goes on the spinning teacups and gets sick

Nash stays in Cars Land the entire time (Tow Mater is his spirit animal or smthn)

Grayson is secretly scared of roller coasters and adores It’s A Small World

Splash Mountain photos are always so crazy

Avery has a soft spot for taking pictures with all the classic characters, Minnie, Mickey, etc. and heals her inner child <3

Max buys a bunch of silly souvenirs and will fight for her life to keep all her trinkets

Avery, Max, Libby, Thea, and Rebecca go to the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique and the staff doesn’t care that they’re over the age of 12, they have so much fun

When they get home, Libby makes all the Disney baked goods from scratch (churros, beignets, etc)

that’s all for now <3

#the inheritance games #tih #jennifer lynn barnes #javery #disneyland #headcanon

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scrivenerofchaos · 1 year ago

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Shadows of Faith: 2/3

Carmilla’s Early Days

SUMMARY: In "Shadows of Faith: The Corruption of Sweet Carmilla," we follow the story of Carmilla, a devout young woman who anticipates a traditional marriage arranged by her parents. However, as her wedding day approaches, Carmilla's nightmares grow increasingly vivid and disturbing. She finds herself consumed by hunger in her dreams and haunted by the sensation of being watched. Amidst the chaos of her nightmares, a seductive voice calls out to her, whispering her name, "Carmilla." This voice belongs to Desdemona who reveals to Carmilla that she will eventually lose her faith, at which point she will be ripe for the taking.

The day Carmilla was born was one of the happiest days of Genevieve’s life. Her deepest desires seemed fulfilled - first having a beloved son to satisfy her husband’s wishes, and then a precious daughter for her to dote on while her boys were away. With Benjamin to carry the family name and Carmilla to shower with affection, Genevieve felt her family was complete.

Yet, tragedy struck in the form of a relentless fever. At the tender age of five, Carmilla found herself confined to her bed, her tiny frame wracked with shivers and drenched in sweat. Genevieve sent for a small army of doctors, all failed her, the fever persisted. Months of this hopelessness. Until one day, just as suddenly as the illness struck, the fever left. A small prayer half answered. Just the same, Carmilla remained in her bed, too weak to join her family for meals or engage in the joys of childhood.

Gregory spent every waking moment in the church of Easis if he wasn’t in his office working. He sought solace and divine intervention in the church.

Benjamin, undeterred by the risk of contagion, dared to visit his little sister and keep her company when he wasn’t away at university or by his father’s side in the church.

Genevieve, a woman of little faith and was quiet about it, she went on walks to clear her head. She found her peace in solitary walks. The fresh air and nature always helped her mind open for the ideas to flow to her.

In this case her mind came up blank. When it came to matters of her child’s health she felt so helpless. No amount of money, power or prestige would bring her daughter back.

On a fateful day, while wandering the city streets in a haze of worry, Genevieve’s gaze fell upon a dress displayed in a tailor’s boutique window. The dress was a brilliant yellow that would have looked glorious against the dark canvas of her daughter’s skin. She imagined her little one healthy, running around in circles, getting the dress dirty or torn. She yearned for the days of chastising her for gleefully splashing in puddles. She whipped tears from her sad eyes.

Curiously, she noticed a mischievous pair of blue eyes staring at her from behind the little dress. The eyes belonged to a little girl who giggled and joyfully bounded towards her mother who was engrossed in plotting corrections on a gaudy gown. A wonderful idea came to Gen.

Emily and Carmilla quickly formed a deep bond, their laughter echoing through the halls as they shared stories, sang songs, and played. Emily didn’t ask about Carmilla’s sickness. She was happy to have another friend. Gen was grateful for the innocence and grace of children. Gregory and Benji would come home and give thanks to their god for bringing Emily to them for the sake of Carmilla. Emily’s presence brought a glimmer of hope to Carmilla’s shadowed world, her innocence a balm to Geneieve’s trouble soul.

Peace was fleeting, at the age of seven, Carmilla’s nights were haunted by gasping breaths and night terrors that left her trembling in fear. Insomnia became her constant companion, stealing precious moments of rest from her weary form. She’d nod off in the middle of conversations. Sometimes, she’d wake up, drenched in sweat, mistakenly thinking the fever returned. The night became a dreadful thing. She dreaded closing her eyes for too long. In desperation, Greg and Benji redoubled their prayers and offerings. They’d stay overnight at the church, being away for days at a time, their devotion to Easis unwavering.

Meanwhile, Genevieve couldn’t bear to be away from Carmilla for long, especially during the night. She stole her peace during the day, while Emily kept Carmilla company. Her mind struggled to focus as she too was deprived of sleep.

As she walked in a haze, she found herself drawn to a mysterious part of the city she had never noticed before. People who appeared as though they hadn’t bathed in weeks, lie on the ground. Some gathered around a burning barrel for warmth, they told each other stories as they shared a drink hidden in a brown paper bag. Gen felt completely out of place with how overdressed she was amongst them. She almost felt embarrassed then threatened when she saw a group of shady looking men with ill-intentions in their eyes begin making their way towards her.

“I have what you seek,” a voice called out to her. A hag approached her from the shadows of her tent made of assorted blankets, “a charm for peaceful sleep.”

Gen, ever skeptical of faith and majicks, wondered how this old lady could have possibly known about her family’s troubles. With no time to second guess she sought refuge in the hag’s tent.

The tent was larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. There was a blazing hearth that lit and warmed the tent. Bookshelves lined the clothed walls. The books looked as though they were from ancient times as they looked almost petrified, in stone tablets. A desk black-wooden desk riddled with mountains of papers. The language on the papers was unknown to Gen even of her education. There seemed to be a staircase that led downstairs.

“I know things because I am meant to,” answered the Hag, before Gen had the chance to form the question on her tongue.

Gen thought that maybe it was in her face that gave it all away. Her eyes felt weary, those eyes of hers must have looked it.

“My child - ,” Gen’s struggled to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks at the thought of completing the sentence. As if putting words to the pain and suffering will condemn her daughter forever.

The hag nodded sympathetically as she rummaged through her things before turning to her to present the charm with both hands with a bowed head.

The charm, a crude looking thing. Hardly looked magical save for the gem. The hands that made it were not of a weathered professional. Though it glimmered gently in the light of a small fire. A gem the color of moonlight was the most perfect out of the metal bits that held it in place, “Here it is, the answer to your pain and suffering.”

“What do you want in exchange for this?” She asked.

“Lucky for you, I only desire coin.” The hag answered.

Against her better judgment, Gen paid for the charm and hurried back home before the hag roped her into more scams.

While Carmilla and Emily were distracted, she snuck the charm underneath one of the many pillows on her bed. She hoped that this inexpensive trinket would do something, anything.

That night, Carmilla slept through the night peacefully. When she awoke, it was like she was a completely different person. Carmilla felt strong enough to get out of bed, eat with her family. Another night of sleep uninterrupted, she was able to picnic with Emily in the sun. Gen, more than pleased, would take the charm and put it under her daughter’s pillow each night before bed.

She made it a habit of coming into her room with a comforting beverage of rose milk and honey, or a book for her and Emily to read. She would fain interest in the story while leaving the charm behind, unnoticed. Years would pass of this. Another small prayer answered and peace returned to the Everhart home.

Five years of this peace would reign before Gregory requested that his wife accompany him on a business trip.

Carmilla, now the age of twelve. She had grown confident as her health and sanity returned to her. She’d write as if she would never be able to write again. Still, Gen fretted leaving her by herself. Gen despised the fact she had more faith in a cheap charm than she did in anything else.

“She will not be alone, my love,” Gregory assured his wife, “She has the servants at her beck and call…and Emily to entertain.”

“Yes, mother, I am fine and have been for some time now. The dark days are behind us,” Carmilla was eager to run the house by herself and pretend she was the Lady of the house long married.

“Thanks be to Easis,” Gregory and daughter sang the praises in harmony.

Gen couldn’t talk her way out of this as the family was confident through faith that all was in the past. Gen persisted as she always had. She knew she would find a way.

As the servants gathered their luggage, Gen instructed one of the discrete and trustworthy servants to take the charm and assume her duty.

“We will be back soon,” She hugged and kissed her daughter’s forehead, “it’s a short trip.”

Her words, betrayed by the winds of uncertainty and chaos. The cool night transformed into an unforgiving tundra of ice and snow. This tumultuous weather delayed Greg and Gen’s journey for several weeks. Gen’s stomach turned with dread at the conditions that awaited them once they returned home.

Those fears were confirmed when they saw the look on their servant’s faces.

“I couldn’t get to her every day, m’lady,” the servant confessed, “Emily and her have grown too close.” Gen shook her head, she didn’t want to hear excuses.

“Everyday? She’s had some sleep then,” She couldn’t control her fear showing up as frustration and displeasure towards those only trying to help.

All her fury melted into fright as she watched her daughter with haunted eyes aimlessly wander the halls while muttering nonsense. These were clear signs of sleep deprivation. Gen guided her troubled little love to bed, with charm in hand. Carmilla weakly shook her head in protest. Gen pleased that she was still acutely aware of the goings on.

“It’s alright, mommy is here,” she rubbed her daughter’s head as she planted the charm under her head. Carmilla fought as she did, couldn’t keep her eye open.

That night of her parent’s return, she slept peacefully as she had for so many years before. She faced the day with a head unburdened by a vague and elusive terror. She was clear as she ever could be and astute.

Carmilla finds herself unable to contain her suspicions. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she seeks out her mother to confront her about the truth she has uncovered.

As she enters her mother’s art studio, Carmilla’s gaze meets Genevieve’s, her eyes betraying a tumultuous storm of emotions. Genevieve, sensing the gravity of the moment, looks up from her canvas, concerned etched on her face.

“Carmilla, darling, what’s wrong?” Genvieve’s voice carries a note of apprehension as she rises from her stool, her maternal instincts kicking in.

Carmilla takes a deep breath, steeling herself for confrontation ahead. “Mother, we need to talk,” she began, her voice quivering with suppressed emotion.

Gen’s brows furrow in concern as she moves closer to her daughter, reaching out to gently touch her arm. “Of course, my dear. What is it? You seem upset. Did you not sleep well?” she says, her tone gentle and soothing

Carmilla pulls away, her resolve firm as she meets her mother’s gaze head-on. “I know about the charm, Mother,” she says, her voice betraying a mixture of hurt and anger.

Genevive’s eyes widen in surprise, momentarily taken aback by her daughter’s revelation. “The charm? What do you mean, Carmilla?” she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Carmilla’s frustration boils over, her words tumbling out in a rush as she struggles to articulate her feelings. “Do not play me as a fool, mother. I know you’ve been sneaking that charm under my pillow every night,” she accuses, her voice rising with each word.

Gen’s expression shifts, a flicker of guilt crossing her features before she quickly comprises herself. “Carmilla, I…I only wanted to help you sleep. I thought it would ease your nightmares and it has,” she offers, her voice tinged with regret.

But Carmilla unappeased, her anger burning bright in her auburn eyes, she shakes her head in disbelief, “Help me sleep? You lied to me, mother, You made me believe it was your prayers that healed me, but it was just a charm from a lowly hag,” she retorts, her voice trembling with betrayal.

Gen’s eyes filled with remorse as she took a step closer to her daughter, reaching out to touch her arm once more, “Carmilla, please…I only wanted what was best for you. I never meant to deceive you,” she pleads, her voice filled with genuine remorse.

Carmilla pulls away again, her heart heavy with disillusionment, as she meets her mother’s gaze one last time. “I trusted you, mother. You not only betrayed my trust but the faith.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper as she turns and walks away, leaving Genevieve alone with her regrets.

With each passing day, Carmilla’s inner turmoil grew. Her mind consumed by questions and doubts that lingered like shadows in the corners of her thoughts. She fervently prayed for guidance, seeking solace in meditation, yet the answers remained elusive, slipping through her grasp like mist in the morning sun.

The charm, once a source of unknown comfort and respite from her nightmares, now weighed heavily on her conscience. How could something so seemingly benign, a mere trinket from a hag, hold such power over her well-being? And why did it seem to defy the influence of Easis, the deity her devout father and brother worshiped with unwavering faith.

Her desire for clarity warred with her sense of duty to her faith. She longed for her mother’s comforting embrace, yet the memory of her betrayal stoked the flames of resentment within her heart. How could she trust someone who had deceived her so?

In a desperate bid to reconcile her beliefs with her reality, Carmilla resolved to conduct an experience. Placing the charm at varying distances from her sleeping quarters. One night she placed the charm in the hallway, the next night, it was a room across the main stairwell. She sought to gauge its influence on her dreams and her sense of peace. With each night that passed, she observed the results with a mixture of trepidation and resolve. The charm in her closet brought peaceful slumber, its presence a faint whisper of comfort in the darkness. Yet, when moved further away, its effects waned, leaving her vulnerable to the haunting specters of her nightmares.

In the end, Carmilla chose to keep the charm close, tucked away in the depths of her closet. Though its origins remain shrouded in mystery, its role in her life was clear. It was a reminder of her fragility, her humanity, and the complexities of faith that bound her to a world where shadows danced in the flickering light of her convictions.

Author's Note:

Writing for my mental health is doing me wonders. When life gets too hard I think about my characters and how'd they handle things. I think this is what art and the process of creation is all about.

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genderkoolaid · 7 months ago

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Hanging around in bars gets exhausting with time. I don't know why that is. Maybe I've been let down too many times. "You're afraid to show your feelings. So you're waiting for guys to fancy you. But when they fall in love, you break up with them." I'm afraid to fall in love. Time makes one cautious. I'm pretty lonely, actually. I always hang around in bars, but nothing new happens. I've slept with most of the guys. My longest relationship was with Clemens. "You still like him?" I'll never forget him. I won't lose hope. I want to make the most of my time while I'm still young, and experience as much as possible. I've experienced a lot. If I'd stayed in my small town, I would've never known what's out there. I've been to parties in fancy houses, I've slept with celebrities, ironers, coal carriers… I'm glad I didn't become a bourgeois with a wife and kids. The same routine, day by day… "You've told us how it all started, and that everything was fantastic, because it was new and adventurous, but when you came here, you were sick and tired of being gay. You've become a "career queer". All you're interested in is sex and how to get it. But you're too weak to break free on your own. It's hard for you, because you have no other interests besides being gay. You'll wreck your nerves and become more addicted and unhappy. You've become a whore who's not getting paid. You've become incapable of having a human relationship. Everything is cold, calculating, and uptight. I think what you've done was pretty stupid. You live like a milion other gays. You're just as uptight, dependent, and unhappy as them. In a time where everyone feared to be put in prison, it would've been comprehensible. But now is the time to help ourselves. We've all been intimidated by our families, and now all we consist of is weakness. Because we'll never be able to forget the restrictions imposed on us in our childhood. It's crucial that we change our fucked up situation. We can't always blame others. We must overcome our fucking weakness. We need to start thinking about what we do wrong."

That's easy for you to say. How am I supposed to do that? "It's crucial for all gays to come out of the closet." We must have the courage to tell everyone that we're gay. It's hard, but it's the only way. We feel dependent and guilty, and as a result, we'll become moody and unreliable. We can't even be honest to those we love. We mustn't be afraid of our parents and employers anymore. We need to organize… against those fucking employers who want to fire us for being gay. We must publish the names of homophobes in our magazines. Maybe they're afraid, because they're closeted gays themselves. We need to end this situation, that makes us show our cocks in public toilets, and stand there for hours, till we leave… alone and disgusted, with a bad conscience on top of it all. Nevertheless, we'll return the next day, because many of us are afraid to look someone in the eye and start a conversation, just to see they're a human being, and not just someone with a cock to use and dispose of. [...] Gays being together creates a tense atmosphere. The others are seen as a reflection of one's own problems. We're always cruising, that's why we dress up. Refuse the fashion terror! Condemn the high-class hustlers! Don't wait for rich Johns, because they'll only exploit and dump you! Pretending we're real men is bullshit because most of us aren't. Let's become more gay! Closeted gays must have the guts to come out. Fairies and leather men should end their feud and fight for their freedom side by side. Meeting points like cafes, bars, boutiques, or lidos are intolerable, because they're all about self-display. Especially bars… with their hostile atmosphere. Everyone's standing around, conceited and uptight… It's impossible to start a conversation without feeling obligated to have sex. Boycott those bars! Push for new bars where gays can feel free, knowing it's not only their money others are interested in. Trash those fucking gay bars if they're nothing but brothels. Gays need to stop hating each other. We must love each other and not be competitors."

"The oppression of gays has made sex and flings vital to them, and for many, they've become their main activities. Try to be more personal, more independent! Out of fear of old age, most gays frantically chase after sex. Older gays become aggressive, because they're being despised by the young ones. If the time comes when gays not only care about physical appearances, old age will not be such an issue anymore. Boycott parks and toilets! Come out of hiding! Take to the streets! Rally for your rights! Help those stupid fashion-fags, those arrogant pretty boys, and those bar-queers! Help those who fuck in toilets and parks out of their fucked up situation! Sex shouldn't be a competition or a way to boost your ego. It should contribute to understanding and not, as is often the case with gays, make them strangers after a one-night stand. We must try to fuck freely… and respect the other instead of seeing him as an object. The bourgeoisie call us "fruity", but most of us are cold and uptight. We must become erotically free and socially responsible. Let's unite with the Black Panthers and the Women's Lib, and fight the oppression of minorities! Take care of each other's problems at work! Show your solidarity if a colleague gets into a conflict, and you can count on their help in return. Engage in politics! Being gay is not a movie! We gay pigs want to become humans and to be treated as such! We have to fight for it! We want to be accepted, and not just tolerated. But it's not just about being accepted by the people, but also about how we treat each other. We don't want any anonymous groups! We want a joint action, so we can get to know each other while fighting our problems… and learn to love each other! We need to organize! We need better bars, good doctors, and a safe working enviroment! Become proud of your homosexuality! Get out of the toilets! Take to the street! Freedom for gays!"

shut up about twink death and go watch the final scene of It Is Not the Homosexual Who Is Perverse, But the Society in Which He Lives (1971)

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icemankazansky · 2 years ago

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Being a newbie in the TG fandom is hard. There's the burnbook, the callouts blog, there're people lurking to start shits everywhere, all I want to do is to discuss characterisations and ships with someone and to post my works. And I do look up to the elders of the fandom because I think you guys are cool, I enjoy your fics and edits, I know maybe it's just the overthinker in me but sometimes it feels like the likes of me are not too entirely welcome for some weird guts feeling reasons.

I want to say first and foremost: You are entirely welcome here. I can only speak for myself and the pre-TGM Top Gun fans who I know personally (which is most of them), but we are thrilled you are here. We want to talk to you about characterizations and ships. We want to see your works! We are very excited to have new people with whom to share this fandom we love, and we are so, so fond of so many of the new people we've met already.

But I will also say: I understand how you feel. I have been in fandom for a long time, and honestly, I have never seen anything like this. Honestly, I think it's a tiny part of this fandom who are running these nasty blogs, starting these fights, and terrorizing people on their blogs and in their asks. But they're LOUD. It was a complete surprise and very upsetting when this stuff started. It was kind of like this: The Top Gun fandom was this small, old neighborhood fairly removed from major cities. We knew all our neighbors; some of us lived there for over a decade; some of us helped build the neighborhood. It was very peaceful, warm, and inviting. Then we heard they were building some big suburbs nearby, with all the things that come with it: New schools, shopping complexes, chain restaurants, automatic car washes. It was going to be a change, but we were excited to have new neighbors, and we welcomed them. They moved in, and for a while everything was nice. There were growing pains and more traffic, but there were fun, creative new people to meet, and Starbucks and big movie theaters and cupcake boutiques.

Then things began to shift. Some people in the big, shiny new suburbs began to look around this huge city they had built up all around us, and decided, "You know, this town is great, except for that old section. It's an eyesore, so rundown, dated ... it's affecting our property values, and it's the cause of everything that's wrong around here." And they didn't just whisper about it between themselves. They held town hall meetings and posted public declarations about it all over town. (It wasn't just anonymous people bitching about us on those cruel, cowardly burn book blogs. They were in the tags on their private blogs talking about how the older part of fandom was ruining everything, how there had been no good fanfiction written before TGM came out... They named us individually in hate posts. They came in our asks and left harassing comments and death threats.) And we're just sitting here in our cozy little cottages where we've lived for years, like ... you don't need to come here. You can stay in your shiny suburbs and just ignore this part of town, instead of throwing bricks through our windows and graffitiing our houses. But they don't. They haven't.

And so we've had to put bars on our windows and hire a neighborhood watch. I understand that, as a newcomer to fandom, it can be intimidating to see fandom elders making posts addressing new people in fandom and asking them to respect our neighborhood. But we're addressing a very small percentage of fandom who are actively terrorizing us, who are actively working to make this fandom a negative place. That's not you. You are welcome here. We want you here. Please post your work. Please come talk to us. We will help you find your way around if you like. We'll introduce you to our friends and good restaurants. We are happy you're here.

This is an open invitation to you and anyone who needs it, but please always feel free to send me an ask or message me privately if you feel unsure about how to make your way around this fandom, or if you just want to talk about Top Gun or anything else. Honestly, I am so happy to speak to you, and I want to help in any way I can.

Carly

#asks answered #top gun fandom problems

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coltrainbat · 2 years ago

Note

Frank and his girlfriend reader bringing mary to Disneyland, florida for the first time

The Happiest Place on Earth is with You

A/N: This was a great excuse to watch Gifted again! Admittedly, I have never been to Disneyland but I did my research! Hope you liked the little twist I slid in there. 💕

“Ok so first I wanna go on Space Mountain, and then the Seven Dwarves Mine Train, and then Y/N, I know scary things freak you out but please please please you have to come to Tower of Terror with us!”

“Ok easy kiddo we haven’t even gotten through the Gate.”

Frank and you had taken Mary to Disney for the first time ever and it was safe to say… she was losing her mind.

You waited in line, head strained up to listen attentively to Mary on Frank’s shoulders.

“I’ll go on the Tower of Terror with you on ONE condition.”

“What???”

“You have to come with me to get a princess makeover at the Boutique.”

Mary groaned, face planting into Frank’s head.

“Oh, come on sweet pea it’d do you some good to have your hair brushed for once.” Frank pulled the legs of his niece.

“Not for her you idiot, for me! I want to be the princess!” Mary’s face came back up and it light up in glee.

“Yes, yes, yes, Frank Y/N can finally be a real life, Princess!”

“Look at her Mary she’s already a princess.” He moved towards you closing the space between you to stealing a kiss.

“Guysss you promised to not be weird today.”

“Sorry kiddo can’t help it; you’ll understand one day.” Chris pulled her down off his shoulders so she could walk through the barrier scanning her Magic Band.

Making your way through the gates, Mary was already hyper.

“I did some research and the average wait time for rides is 36 minutes, with each ride lasting about 8 minutes, giving time for entering, being properly secured and then exiting...”

She clicked her fingers at you two pulling your gaze away from each other.

“Pay attention! Then exiting that mean’s we’d spend on average 48 minutes on each ride and since you promised we could stay here till 9, that gives us 11 hours… factoring in meal times...”

“Hey Mary?”

“Yeah...”

“No more calculations today, have fun and get high on sugar like the rest of the kids here.” Frank patted his hand on the young girl’s head.

“Besides Mars we won’t have to wait that long.”

You called Mary, Mars because that’s where her head seemed at most days and also because you thought she was destined to be the first person on Mars.

One time Frank tried to get in on the nickname, but Mary quickly shut up him down saying it was a special thing between you two only.

Heck, he didn’t care he was just glad she had a female role model in her life. You’d known Mary since she was 3 and you two, despite your differences in practically everything, got on like a house on fire.

“Why’s that?” she enquired.

Frank reached into his back pocket, pulling out 3 fast passes.

“No. You. Didn’t.” Her eyes widened at the golden passes in his hand.

“I didn’t but Y/N did.”

You beamed at your favourite little girl. As she jumped on you suddenly. Embracing you in a gleeful hug

“THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU.”

“You’re welcome honey now let’s get started on that sugar… how about a… waffle?”

You didn’t think it was possible that such a small body could demolish Mickey waffles, Corn Dog Nuggets, Caramel Popcorn, half a turkey leg and a Peanut Butter and Jelly Milkshake all in the space of 2 hours. But that was Mary, constantly surprising you.

After your 3rd go on Space Mountain, you were finally able to drag the both of them to the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique.

“Hi y’all what will it be today a Princess makeover for the little one.” The attendant peered over the stand, looking down at Mary.

“No, I have no interest in dressing up as a make-believe princess whose dependant on a man to save her, but this is my adult Y/N”

The young girl gestured towards you

“Unlike the princesses in the movies, she’s actually real and much prettier than the CGI crap you guys spit out. We are here to get a crown fitted on her head which is my uncle Frank over here’s poor substitute for a wedding ring but at least he has his wits about him to treat her like a princess, so some deadbeat doesn’t come along to steal her from him and in turn me.”

Mary finished her spiel, meeting the attendants face whose eyes were practically bulging out of her head, she quickly blinked looking from the girl to you and Frank behind her, you both met her with a nervous smile as most people aren’t used to a 7-year-old talking like she’s straight out of a Tarantino movie.

“A crown would be great thank you.” You managed to get out through clenched teeth.

“Over there in the corner.” The attendant responded still in shock at what she just heard. Frank’s hand nudging Mary to move towards the display. All 3 of you quickly burst out with laughter.

“For your information young lady, it’s not a substitute for a wedding ring its merely a temporary hold until I can afford to buy her the biggest diamond in the western hemisphere!”

Mary gestured you to come down to your level “I wouldn’t hold your breath.” She whispered in your ear.

“Don’t worry Mars, I have another thing to hold him down.”

The two helped you pick out a shiny tiara with pearl detail attached to a headband with 2 pink puffy Mickey Ear’s bordering it.

“How do I look?” You placed the headband on your head.

You were met with big grins from both of them.

“Beautiful” Mary gushed

“Like I should start watching my back before some “deadbeat” steals you.”

“Ok good we are ready for the Tower of Terror then!” You smiled nervously.

Mary was right, you really didn’t like scary things.

As you got into the dark elevator, you breathe became a bit ragged, something about being cramped in a dark space with a bunch of people about to be propelled down an abandoned shaft made you queasy.

“Hey, it’s fine I got you.” Frank’s grip on your hand tightened.

“Me too.” The little girl, looked up at you holding your other hand. Giving it a small squeeze.

While you shrieked in terror at the sudden drop, the pairs hands never left yours and Frank quickly supported your weight when you felt you were about to fall over with fear.

As you exited the ride Mary ran in front of you both turning towards you.

“See Y/N it wasn’t THAT scary.”

“Yeah, no it was totally fine... totally fine.” You choked out, hand massaging your throat as Frank practically carried you out of the exit. Both of his hands around your waist coaxing you forward.

“Hey kiddo let’s sit down here for a sec and have a bite to eat.” Frank gestured her towards the table outside a food stand.

When you were all settled and comfortable, munching a way at your 5th meal of the day.

Frank cleared his throat.

“Mary, do you know why we brought you to Disneyland?”

“Because it’s the happiest place on earth and this is where “normal kids” have the most fun?”

“Yes, that but also because we might not be able to do trips just all 3 of us like this again in the future.”

Mary’s heart sank, her mind went to the worst, thinking you were leaving them, leaving Frank because he wouldn’t marry you. It was too late, and a deadbeat had already stolen you. She was about to lose another key person in her life and there was nothing she could do about it.

Noticing the sudden sadness on her face, you placed your hand on hers.

“Mars honey, I’m having a baby.”

The sadness on her face was replaced with pure shock. A silence fell over the table, and you looked at Frank with worry. Before you could assure the young girl that you weren’t going to love her any differently, she left out an earth-shattering shriek.

“AHHHH OMG I’M GONNA HAVE A SIBLING! Omg we can play Legos and I can teach them Trachtenberg and we can go on the boat and-“

“Ok easy Kiddo let’s wait till it’s out her stomach first yeah?"

The little girl latched onto your neck, embracing you in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re not leaving.” She whispered into your ear.

“I’m not going anywhere without you Mars.” Tightening your grip around her tiny frame in your arms.

“She asleep?” Frank questioned.

You looked behind you towards the passenger seat seeing the sleeping child, head leaning on her shoulder, slumped in her seat.

“Out like a light.” You smiled.

You drove along the dark road illuminated by streetlights, a couple of streets away from home.

“I’d say she took the news well.” Frank smirked at you.

“Well? She almost exploded with joy.” You laughed softly hoping not to wake her up.

Frank took your hand, pulling it up to his lips, kissing it softly.

“If you’re anything like you are now with Mary, you’re going to be an amazing mom, Y/N”

“I love you.”

“I love you too beautiful.”

He pulled into your driveway.

Opening the passenger door, and carefully unbuckling her belt, weary not to wake her he pulled the sleeping kiddo out from the seat. He held her over his shoulder, holding his other hand out for you to take as you walked into the house after another amazing day.

#frank adler #frank adler x female!reader #chris evans fic #frank adler x reader #frank adler imagine #frank adler fluff #chris evans imagines #chris evans characters #chris evans character x reader #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom

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buterflies-and-ladybugs · 3 years ago

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Mafia AU

So, as the name suggests this is a mafia au with a Gotham wide competition for Marinette inspired by this tumblr post. And this was created for @ellienettie

Let's start off with our Mafia families:

The BeeHive: Head- Chole; Alias-Yellow Jacket

The Bats: Head: Bruce Wayne; Alias- Batman

Jason (Alias- Red hood) works independently of the Batfam, but is still considered a close member of their organization.

The Serpents: Head- Luka; Alias-Viper and Vice-Head: Juleka; Alias- Rayé

The Dragons: Head- Kagami; Alias- Ryu

Since this is a Mafia AU, we need our Police force which consists of the Rouge Gallery (That's what it’s called right?)

Marinette owns a small boutique right in the connecting point of all of their territories, which just so happens to be the meeting place for friendly, or at least civil, discussions between the groups.

She runs into various high tracking members of the various families unknowingly, and proceeds to help them:

Chloe- She fixes her outfit when it rips, much to the poor onlooker's terror.

Luka- She listens to him play after stumbling upon his hideout (not that she knows that) and compliments his music, and even offers him cookies!

Juleka- Seeing an upset Juleka who lost her favorite bracelet, Marinette offers to make her a new one, and asks to have her model because honey she is gorgeous.

Kagami and Jason- These two get into a fight over her as soon as they watch her kick a drug dealer's ass for selling to kids.

This continues until they all meet up again and realize that everyone else either wants to date her or adopt her.

Chaos ensues!

#maribat #everyone loves marinette #badass marinette #marinette dupain cheng #jasonette #lukanette #marigami #juleka x marinette #really any ship ever

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pianocat939 · 3 years ago

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Excuse me for my dumbass brain deleting the request. (I originally did post it but it wasn’t ready so I deleted it in panic) I only got 4 more requests to go. So proud of myself for hanging on the small hours of sleep I get everyday.

The original request was basically “Can I request prompt 2 for Raspberry please? - Midnight Anon” I think. Might be messing a sentence or two, but mostly this.

Tw: MC gets shackled, Implied Kidnapping

Prompt 2: “You think you can run away? Why my feet are much faster than your slow ones.”

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Raspberry has always been on point, never making mistakes on foolish matters. Her pristine coat always straight and tidy, not a single wrinkle on its hems. House of Raspberry had always been proud of their heir, but now her regalness seemed to shine brighter than anything before.

But we are not perfect creatures; we make mistakes no matter how proper or intelligent we are.

On the day of your birthday, she left the door unlocked, enabling your escape. It seemed unreal on how she could forget such an important task. You didn’t mind at all though, the only thing that matters now is that you break out from her grasp.

At first, you hesitated on escaping. So many obstacles could stop your path, and who knows what would happen if Raspberry caught you. Would she punish you with violence? Or perhaps, by a rare chance, would she isolate you in your room? So unpredictable...Finally, after a few minutes of deep pondering, you decided that it’s best to take this risk; even if you suffer from the consequences to come.

You grabbed what little items you have and rushed out the door. After months of wandering the same halls, you knew exactly when to move and when to hide; it feels like instincts to you now. You smoothly pass by the servants and guards, passing through the side gate with ease.

The exterior of the gate is trees and berry bushes--perfect environment for masking yourself. Watchfully, you proceed to jog on the path. The sun hasn’t even risen yet, meaning Raspberry won’t find out anytime soon. But taking your time is a precarious decision. This might be your only chance; you have to make the best of it.

——————————————————

By midday, you arrive at a small town on the outskirts of the central area. Quiet and serene, unlike the tumultuous life you live. A few townspeople greet you, surprised to see a newcomer on such a typical day. You only nod in greeting, keeping your identity unexposed.

Identity. You urgently need to obscure everything you see of yourself. Otherwise, someone might recognize you. Even worse, Raspberry will be able to search for you easier. But what can you use? Surely there should be a shop somewhere here.

Exploring the streets, you inspect all the signs and names. Not long after, you find yourself at a boutique run by an elderly lady. Picking out some loose clothing, you step to the counter. “Excuse me, can I pay for this?” She hums, her drained eyes drooping down as she meticulously folds the clothing.

Right as she hands you the clothing she blabs, “I remember my first escape: the terror and thrill I felt when running down the forest path. Too bad my ‘husband’ caught me right before I could leave the dock not too far from here.” Her eyes reflected with cold death look up at you now, pleadingly so. “If only I hadn’t wasted time hesitating to leave the house in the first place.” You stand in unease, concerned at how similar her past sounds like your present.

What does she mean by hesitating in the first place? You didn’t hesitate too long, just a few minutes. Was she also kidnapped like you too? So many questions to inquire, but you cannot waste anymore time. Raspberry might find you if you loiter.

You bid goodbye and exit the establishment, albeit the knocking of oncoming disaster makes your blood freeze. You round the corner, opening the package of garments while doing so. The paper crumbles as you sloppily unfold the wrapping. The soft material feels nice against your hands, a rare form of comfort for a long while. You wear the cover-up over your current wear, making sure none of your true self is exposed.

Unexpectedly, you hear the sound of hurried hooves clomp down the street. Next, a carriage door slams, with yelling accompanying the chaos. “Search every corner of this town! I want no crack missed!” A familiar voice barks out, dread consuming your body as you hear the person ordering the hunters. It’s Raspberry. She’s come for you, ready to drag you back and shackle you to the cold bed.

You need to slip away. Now.

Thankfully, an alleyway right in front of you leads to the forest once more. You scram, breath unstable as you departure.

——————————————————

After travelling to who knows where you arrive at a dock; similar to the one the lady told you about...Surely it’s only a coincidence, right? There are quite the number of cookies roaming the place. If you get caught by Raspberry at least they’ll witness it. Wait no, you can’t be thinking like that; you need to optimistic if you want to escape.

You observe the few ships, noticing they leave and arrive frequently: to a distant peninsula so it seems. Getting on the boat will be easy, but what to do after? Returning home isn’t an option since it’s within the Hollyberry Kingdom. There are some lands nearby you could travel to. They’re all nothing close to what your homeland feels like though.

A foghorn disrupts your thoughts, the ship blaring noise as it closes in on the dock; it’s white and black body towering over everything around it. You impatiently wait on the edge of the wood, desperate to collapse on the grass of the peninsula knowing you’re living the property of liberty. Come on, just anchor already! The loading board drops onto the planks: a few more steps to happiness.

You step on the board, yet something yanked you back, making you fall down. You freeze, terror hammering inside your body. Who is that...?

“Happy Birthday, my sweet Y/n~ I hope you had fun.” A feminine voice seethes, their form still blurry in your vision. But you know who it is. It’s the one who you’ve been running from—Raspberry. “Time to go home now. I have one more present to give you.” She harshly picks you up and carries you back to the carriage, stomping in fury while doing so.

“You think you can run away? Why my feet are much faster than your slow ones.”

The plush seat cushions your throbbing head, mocking you on your failure. A single tear falls, cascading down your cheek as you realize your stupidity. Why had you hesitated back at the mansion? If you left right away, you could have caught the boat before it departed from the dock.

You should have listened to that old lady.

“Ah, now I can give you your final present.” Raspberry holds out a box in front of you, motioning for you to open it.

Lifting the lid you barely manage to keep your tears in. A pair of shackles greets you, its metal shining in the light of the sunset. Wow, you really are an idiot aren’t you?

Raspberry holds onto one of your wrists and clasps one end of the shackle to it; locking the other end onto her wrist. She looks up at you, smiling menacingly. “Now you won’t have to do so much for your birthday present my love.”

“I remember my first escape: the terror and thrill I felt when running down the forest path. Too bad my ‘husband’ caught me right before I could leave the dock not too far from here,” echoes in your mind as you blankly stare back.

Happy Fucking Birthday Y/n Cookie. You really are a great listener.

——————————————————

I know exactly what I want to write but I can’t put it into sentences...Makes me want to destroy my laptop.

Anyway, gonna summon midnight anon and hope they’re able to read this.

- Celina

#Yandere raspberry cookie #raspberry cookie #cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run kingdom #yandere #yandere x reader

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