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folkloreguk · 3 years

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Querencia (prequel)

A/N: I haven’t written anything in this format in so long, so I hope it’s okay! Someone once asked me to write a prequel to my previous work “Querencia”, so I finally got around to it (after like 2 years rip dfghjk)

[!you don’t have to read both of these parts to understand either one!]

genre: optional bias (male) x reader (female), fluff, explaining how they ended up together, a tiny bit of smut but it’s marked so you can skip if you want, badboy!bias, nerd/shy!reader, her parents are kinda judgemental (only mentioned), secret relationship?, this is an absolute train wreck lmao

words: ~5.2 k

(H/N means “his name”)

ok strap in for this…every time I write a badboy!au I lose a piece of my sanity

basically you used to go to the same school as him

but that’s the only association you had with him because you never actually talked to him in school

he was known to be a “bad boy”

not as in being a horrible person but rather…

he liked to challenge teachers/adults when he didn’t agree with them

and they couldn’t do much because he ended up having pretty decent grades and most of the time his arguments were valid

you had heard your fair share of stories about him

of him getting into a fight with the captain of the football team

apparently, he had stood up for a girl because said captain tried to take advantage of her at a party when she was drunk

you remember being lowkey impressed but didn’t condone violence either way

so, at the same time you were kind of intimidated by him

there were other stories circulating around

of him hooking up with half the school

in quite inappropriate places if I may add

but no one really knew what was the truth tbh

not that it really mattered to you

you were a typical good-girl-nerd-kinda person and so was your friend group

which meant you weren’t even paying attention to him half of the time

plus you thought you’d never see him again after graduating from school

until sooner or later you wouldn’t be given any other choice

because when you walked into your first ever university lecture, he was there

literally one row in front of you???

you were shook because apparently he was studying the same subject as you??

he had even more tattoos and piercings now

one tattoo covered almost the whole front of his neck

he had black boots on and his pants were ripped at the knees

and obviously he had to be wearing a leather jacket

not that you were staring at him (yes you were)

frankly you thought he looked hot

great it’s your first day and you’re already failing to pay attention

and then he turned his head a little and smirked at you???

suddenly you loved looking at your professor and not him

but since you hadn’t paid attention you were left with questions after the lecture

unfortunately the professor was gone before you could ask them

and your social awkwardness made it hard for you to just start talking to a random stranger

so when he go up and made his way to the end of the seats he had to walk past you

“HEy I have a question” you blurted out when he was at your level

the fact that he was so relaxed talking to you made you even more stressed

and he helped you luckily

then, before he could say anything else but the answer to your question, you had escaped the conversation

because perhaps you still found him a little intimidating

but when you walked out of the hall, he quickly caught up to you

“Hold on, do I know you? You seem familiar” he asked

so you had no choice but to explain to him that you went to school together

he was actually really polite to you

but you had sworn yourself education would come first for you, boys second

so you got out of that situation as quickly as possible

the next two weeks you saw him at lectures but always kept out of his way

he said hello a few times and you would nod and smile shyly

within days he had collected a bunch of girls that often sat with him

you guessed he was staying true to his reputation after all

then one day you were in the lovely park behind your university building because you had a break between lectures

you had brought old bread to feed the ducks in the little pond

but suddenly they all swam away from you, over to the other side of the pond

and you couldn’t BELIEVE

he was sitting there, throwing pieces of his perfectly fine sandwich to the ducks all while putting on an extra holy expression

so you went over to fight (not literally lmao)

he greeted you by saying “The ducks made you stop avoiding me?”

you were shook because how did he even notice

“What? You don’t have enough girl-attention yet?” you said

“Not from pretty girls like you” he said

you must have given him a severely disgusted look because he quickly changed his flirty expression

“What made you avoid me? Did I ever say something wrong to you?” he asked

“No you didn’t…you just don’t seem like the crowd I’d hang out with” you confessed

“Wow, I didn’t take you for the judgmental kind” he said

and he looked pretty upset actually??

“I don’t think you’re a bad person” you said

“But I’m home at least by 9 pm every night to study, my parents look at me like I’m a saint, I’ve never been in a relationship and I get nervous when someone as much as raises their voice at me…you strike me as the complete opposite of all those things” you added

without missing a beat, he asked “Don’t they say opposites attract?”

you realized maybe you really had written him off too soon…or perhaps you had worried that he would take your attention off your studies too much

which wouldn’t have been surprising considering how your first lecture with him had gone

and from then on you tried to be nicer to him

sometimes he voluntarily came to sit next to you in class

you didn’t understand why

because you barely spoke to him due to being awkward and when you did you felt like he judged you for being so shy

he had a way with words and within days you found yourself thinking of him more

his stupidly handsome features, tattooed knuckles and pierced eyebrow…it all attracted you maybe a little too much

it was terrifying to you…how he talked to you so easily and already you were eating right off his spoon

what if he was only playing around and you were nothing but a toy girl to him

but then you cursed yourself for saying that…he said he wasn’t a bad person and you were going to believe so unless he proved himself otherwise

spoiler: that never happened

one autumn night you walked out of university after class, it was dark already and pouring rain

you realized you had forgotten your umbrella at home…but you had to walk there by foot…absolutely fantastic

so you pulled your hood over your head and braced yourself to get completely soaked within seconds

suddenly you heard a voice behind you

“Let me bring you home” he said

“No worries, I’m fine” you tried to tell him

“Come on. You said you live twenty minutes from here. If you get on my motorbike I’ll get you home within a few minutes” he said

you were like “Motorbike??”

“Yeah, come on, it’s over there” he said, and he walked ahead of you

basically he didn’t really give you time to argue

when you didn’t follow him right away, he turned around and gave you a look

“You’ll only get a cold if you walk home in this weather” he said

although your parents had drilled into you the idea that motorbikes were dangerous, you went with him after all

he offered you his spare helmet and you put it on

but you were struggling to close it

so he helped you

he was focused on the helmet, but you were staring at him just because you could

his hair was completely soaked by now and water drops were running down his black leather jacket

he had a habit of biting the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating

and with his hands almost on your face, it was the closest he’s ever been to you

it made you weirdly nervous tbh

but before you knew it he had closed the helmet and told you to get onto the motorcycle behind him

“Hold on to the back of the bike or to me” he said

you were surprised at how he didn’t urge you to touch him

and at first you held on to the tail of the motorcycle but the moment you hit a speed bump you changed your mind QUICKLY

your arms swung around his waist tightly and you felt his chest move when he chuckled

like he had said, it only took a few minutes to get you home, and you told him the way there

and surprisingly you really liked being on the motorcycle???

you had thought you’d be scared but it felt amazing

except for how freezing cold the wind was on your wet cheeks ☹

shortly before you pulled up in your street you told him

“You should let me get off a little earlier…my mom will kill me if she sees me on a motorbike”

he didn’t argue but stopped two houses before yours

you felt like the rain had gotten even worse so you really didn’t have time for big words

you quickly thanked him and he gave you his famous smirk before you ran home as quickly as possible

when you had reached the front door you turned his way and he was still there, making sure you got inside

looking at him there, in the downpour in his cool jacket and on his motorcycle, your cheeks involuntarily got hotter

when you got into your room that night and checked your phone, you had one new message on Instagram

you opened it and it was from him???

“Take a warm shower or you’ll be sick tomorrow” it said

he must had sent it seconds after you had entered your house before he had driven away

he really became a bigger mystery to you from one day to the other

because you had no idea what all of this meant???

maybe you should have gotten the hint way earlier

but you didn’t really know the first thing about dating so how were you supposed to know?

but then around two weeks later something else occurred

again, you had class until the early evening

on this specific day, your university was hosting a party for the new students

technically, you would have fallen into that group of new students

but you weren’t one for partying and after being in class for hours on end, all you wanted was to crawl into your bed and rest

so when your course had ended you made your way out of the university building

and you could tell the party had already started because of the music playing

plus there were people all over the place

some were already drunk…you would have been surprised but also this was university after all

you quickly stepped out onto the street and began walking in the direction of your home

from somewhere, you suddenly heard voices

they were making gross noises, as if calling a cat, and asking “sweetheart, do you have a minute?”

when you turned your head, you saw a group of (most certainly) drunk men-boys goggling at you

and because you didn’t slow down or even react to them, they walked after you

you told yourself they would leave you alone if you only walked far enough from the bus station they had waited at

but inside your pocket you clenched your keys between your knuckles

all of a sudden, something touched your shoulders

you almost had a heart attack and raised your hand out of your pocket

“You didn’t wait for me” H/N said from next to you

he placed his infamous leather jacket around your frame and swung an arm around your shoulder

you were about to tell him he had scared the living hell out you

but he was only glaring at the disgusting guys behind you

“I suggest you go home and sleep it off. And learn to take a hint from a girl when she’s this visibly uninterested” he said

the enraged stare he sent to the group of young men made even you feel slightly uneasy

but it worked…they distanced themselves from you if only hesitantly and with a clearly pissed off attitude

“Thank you” you said and were about to give him back his jacket

“Nothing to thank me for. And I gave you that because your sweater looks really thin. Keep it for now” he said

you were taken aback…as always

“Why aren’t you driving your motorbike today?”

“I am, but it’s parked around the corner here. Want me to drive you home?” he asked

and he gave the look again

which look you may ask

the one in which he stared at your eyes and then at your lips…and then your eyes…and then your lips

and his lips were so pretty

“You know what I want?” you asked, “I wanna know if there’s anything you want from me”

he furrowed his brows in confusion

“Why are you always being like this to me?” you went on

“Are you trying to get into my pants?” you blurted out

and then instantly regretted it

especially when he said “Do I really seem like that kind of person?”

“I’ve heard stories about you…” you said

“What kind of stories?” he asked

“Of you hooking up with half of our school back then” you said

he laughed???

and then said “And does it matter how many people I’ve had sex with?”

“It makes me think that’s what you want from me, too. And if that’s the case, I’ll have to disappoint you” you said

“Jesus, Y/N. I want to date you” he said

when I say you were shocked it would be an understatement

hot-tattooed-bad-boy wanted to date you??

and you must have signaled those exact words just by your expression

because he said “I’m telling you again, opposites attract. Don’t you at least wanna give it a try?”

of course you wanted to

“Alright…but I’ve never done this before” you said

“We’ll take it slow, I promise” he said

and then “That means I can finally tell you how goddamn adorable you are”

was it gonna be like this forever??? he compliments you and you feel like your cheeks are on fire???

probably

“I’ll bring you home, come on” he said, swinging his arm around your shoulder again

even this gesture made you shy

you didn’t even know how to respond

and this time, being behind him on the motorbike felt like a whole new sensation

now you were close to him, knowing he wanted you there as much as you did…

and it 100% made you scream on the inside

when he dropped you off, you didn’t know if you were supposed to hug him???

you awkwardly handed him his jacket back

“So, where are we going on our first date?” he asked

“First date?” you asked

“Yeah…people who date usually go on dates, don’t they?” he teased you

“Um…what about the cinema?” you suggested

“Fine, let’s see what they’re showing and I’ll text you, okay?” he said

and he texted you remotely fifteen minutes after you had arrived at home that night

…

so you went to the cinema the next day

before the date, you were essentially losing your mind

what were you supposed to wear??

would he care what you wore??

but even if he didn’t, you wanted to look pretty

your anxiety was kind of going through the roof for hours before he even arrived

he had picked you up, somehow looking even hotter than usually??

or maybe those were just your hormones going insane

“You look beautiful” he said when you had climbed onto the motorbike behind him

“And you look handsome” you had replied

his smile had a faint shyness in it, but only for the blink of a second

at the cinema, you weren’t sure how to act differently around a crush than when you were with friends tbh

did you want to hold his hand?? hell yeah

did you do it?? absolutely not

did you want to point out obsessed you were with his body art?? most certainly

did you?? oh no way, you weren’t gonna expose yourself like that (yet)

luckily, he was easy to talk to and had the patience of a saint

he grinned at you when you would become shy, as if it wasn’t the most embarrassing thing EVER to you, especially in front of him

he also probably called you cute like 13 times whilst you were waiting for the movie to begin alone

in the dark, your hands brushed whenever you both reached for the popcorn at the same time

when you looked over at him, he was chuckling

“Are you doing that on purpose?” he whispered

“No way!” you whispered back

“No? I am” he said

you didn’t even know how to respond to that

but he seemed very pleased with himself when he tilted his head at you flirtingly

were there supposed to be this many butterflies in your belly at only your first date?

what have I gotten myself into??? you thought

…

afterwards you walked back to his motorcycle, shoulders brushing now and then

you were in the middle of analyzing every second of the film you had watched, gesturing around in the air and talking excitedly

he leaned against his motorbike and grinned at you in pure admiration while he listened

mid-sentence you suddenly said “Sorry, did I get too invested in this? Do you wanna bring me home now?”

“What? No, if anything I wanna listen to you for another few hours” he said “Do you wanna come back to my place?”

you didn’t know if he was flirting or joking again, but his face was serious

plus you weren’t sure what ‘coming back to his place’ really intended

and once again his sense for reading your mind struck

“I’m not talking about having sex, if that’s why you look so worried. This is only our first date, remember? If you simply don’t feel like it, that’s cool, I’ll bring you home” he said

“No, I want to go with you” you quickly changed your mind “But I have to be home by midnight, or my parents will worry”

“I’ll get you back home by then” he said, smiling in triumph

…

his flat impressed you in a couple of ways

you admired that he already lived alone

plus it was so much more organized and cleaner than you had expected it from a college boy

his bedroom was your favorite part of the apartment

there was no doubt it was his and only his place

posters of his favorite films were plastered on the walls, his bedsheets were dark, a neon sign hung above the headboard of his bed and in the corner, a vinyl player stood

you loved the windowsill that gave you a view out of the fifth-floor flat and had the impulse to sit down there, to watch the cars pass by on the street underneath

“make yourself at home” he had said

and somehow you had ended up on his bed, right next to him

he let you rest your head on his arm while he listened to you

not only did you discuss the movie you had seen

you also talked about literally anything either of you loved

and you realized quickly, that aside from the different way of living, you had surprisingly many things in common

he put on his favorite plate on the vinyl player so you could listen to the music he loved

when he laid down next to you again, he offered his open arms

for the first time, you put your cheek against his chest, listening not only to the music but also his heartbeat

you remember liking his cologne and how warm he was

“I’ve never been so close to someone who wasn’t my friend or family” you admitted quietly

“Does it feel different?” he asked

“Of course” you said

did he not realize???

how your heart hammered against your ribcage and butterflies were flooding your belly and how there was only him in your head and his stupid cute smile and his tattoos and piercings and deep voice and ohmygodhisvoice

but when you looked up from his chest and checked his expression, he looked equally as fond as you felt

“Being with you feels different from being with other girls to me, too” he said

“It feels so much better” he added then

“What do you see in me that you don’t see in them?” you asked suddenly

“I have to admit, at first I thought it was cute, teasing you and seeing you get shy, well, I guess it still is. I liked the idea of getting to know someone with such a completely different image, so sweet and good” he said

and as he did, he softly brushed his hand over your lip

you thought you were going to have a heart attack

“But damn you’re so funny and kind…how can I not want you this way?” he said

and he looked so honest, almost vulnerable, a sight you never thought you’d see

“In which way?” you asked

“In every way” he said

and with one look, he erased all fears you’d had about him and how he might have felt about you

suddenly you understood why people went on dates all the time and searched for love…

at some point you realized how it was past midnight already

he drove you home quickly, and luckily you didn’t get into too much trouble with your parents

this time when he dropped you off, he gave you a hug that made you want to stay in his arms forever

from then on, your feelings could only get worse and you were stressed about what it would do to you

you thought your crush was bad then?? it was nothing

within the next weeks, you fell head over heels for the cliché bad boy and there was no way to stop it

you had told him you didn’t want to prioritize a relationship over your education

so 90% of your dates ended up being study dates

although he was the biggest distraction in your life, this way you at least got a little something done

usually, it went a little like this:

you’d be sitting down at a library table, with him across from you

your head would be buried in a book within minutes, only occasionally looking up at him

and he’d be busy telling you all things he could possibly come up with:

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are? I know, even if you’re not looking at me”

“There’s a really cute girl here, but she’s ignoring me. Do you think she likes me too?”

“Hey, do you wanna go out with me sometime, like…on a date? A real date?”

“You know what other people do at the library? There’s an empty space way in the back, I can show you…”

yes sometimes he’d say suggestive things to you

but they were jokes, simply a part of his character

he never pressured you to do anything

even your first kiss took a while to occur

it was one night when he brought you home from a date (this time a real one)

when you said your goodbyes, you suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of affection

his eyes were so warm and only on you, always

softly, his tongue swept over his bottom lip, teeth toying with his piercing

“Can you kiss me?” you asked

something sparked in his eyes…he had won even more of your trust, and rightfully so

his fingers gently lifted your chin, and you always thought you’d be nervous through your first kiss, but no…it was serenity

it was butterflies peacefully floating and fireworks going off all at the same time

had you known how good this felt, you would have asked him to kiss you way earlier tbh

the whole evening until you fell asleep you couldn’t stop smiling

and you liked to think even in slumber, the corners of your mouth had been curled upwards because of him

from then on, kissing him had turned into your favorite pastime

it was especially bad when you tried to have “study dates” at his place

90% of the time, your studying turned into making out with him

oh? you’re taking a break and getting a glass of water from the kitchen? oops now you’re on his sofa, sitting in his lap and kissing

the way he handled you with such confidence and made flirty remarks all the way through your make-out-sessions only reminded you of his experience

sometimes you felt bad, knowing he was holding himself back

other days you wished he wasn’t so hesitant with touching you less innocently

but sometimes you did stop him, if his hands wandered a little too far down your torso, or if things seemed to get too steamy

he would always apologize, even if you told him there was nothing wrong

but his confidence made you feel more comfortable with every time you were in his arms

!!!SMUT AHEAD IN ITALICS

one day you were in the middle of watching a movie on his bed

but all you had been thinking of were his lips and hands

when you kissed him, things quickly turned more intense

only this time you asked him to go further

initially, he was worried

“I wish I could make this more special for you” he said

“If it’s with you, it’s perfect, no matter where and when” you assured him

the first time, he was the most gentle he’s ever been with you

because he had never pressured you and you had chosen this exact moment yourself, you weren’t even close to as nervous as you thought you’d be

and from then on, you only became more comfortable when it came to sex

you could tell he loved showing you and trying new things with you

and before you knew it, he was actually showing you that empty space at the back of the library he had joked about

usually, you were hesitant to do anything risky in public

but when it was late and the library was nearing closing hours, it was almost fully vacant

he could never get enough of your innocent eyes while your lips were wrapped around his cock, kneeling on the carpet floor of the university library in front of him

he’d never get over when he fucked you from behind, two of his fingers in your mouth, muffling your moans while you were hidden behind the bookshelves

other nights he’d show up outside of your house in the middle of the night, just because he missed you so much

*cough* querencia *cough*

there was something about nighttime that made you feel as if you were the only two people in the world

then it would be him and you in his bed, on his kitchen counter, his sofa, his shower or any random wall of his apartment

now you might have understood why the girls loved him

but they didn’t love him the way you did

!!!SMUT ENDING

he loved showing you off to his friends

some of them looked equally as intimidating as him

but as you had learned, most of that was simply looks and wasn’t to be taken seriously

when you hung out with his friends, he had you sitting in his lap, usually bragging about something you had done or said to him

you were like his personal, pretty gem and he was making sure everyone knew

and as much as he wanted you to be known to his friends, you wished you could have told your parents about him

one day, they would understand how much you loved him

they would be able to look past his tattoos and pierced skin and see how amazing he was

but for now, he was your little secret

every night, he sent you a goodnight text right before you went to sleep

sometimes he’d attach a picture of himself

in his pajamas, with messy hair and heavy eyelids, even he looked almost cute to you

other nights, when he was still out, it’d be a mirror selfie, with his hair pushed back perfectly, lifting his head so you’d see your favorite tattoo of his on his neck

his clothes pitch black and shirt lazily tucked into his belt on one side

his eyes would have the cocky gaze you knew from when you first met him

only now it was only meant for you

his message would read:

“I love you angel. See you in your dreams”

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snowdragon4 · 3 years

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Cops and Robbers. A Bbrae AU

As much as Rachel enjoyed her job, she couldn’t help, but feel exhausted coming home at the end of a long day. Maybe it was the fact that she was on her feet all day, thank goodness for whoever invented flats. Still it was stable and fine work, a solid nine to five, giving her enough time to get home to work on her novel. The monotony of her daily routine was broken up when on her way home she noted a healthy handful of police cars driving around her neighborhood.

“Huh? I wonder if Dick could let me know what’s going on?” She of course was referring to her cop neighbor, Dick Grayson, but driving by his house, all the lights were shut off. “Maybe he and Kory are out.” She shrugged it off and parked her car before entering her home.

She moved through the doors of her modest three bedroom home as she usually did. Keys and mail on the table by her door, purse and jacket on a hook, turned on the TV for a bit of background noise and a nice cold beer in the fridge calling her name. She figured she’d make herself dinner, take a hot bath, and settle in for a night of writing.

With the news in the background she went about her nightly routine.

“—citizens of Jump city should be advised that the suspect could be armed and dangerous. For those who are just joining, please be on the lookout for Garfield Mark Logan, who escaped police custody earlier this evening—“

She took a beer from the fridge and removed the cap. “If his parents named him ‘Garfield’ they belong in prison too.” She commented dryly.

“—Garfield is wanted for the murder—“

She had gone to the counter when something had occurred to her. Going back she opened the door to the fridge and noticed something.

She was a creature of habit and structure, bordering on obsessive compulsiveness, but it made sense to keep her world in order at least. She had so much practice in fact that she noticed things out of place, even if it was just a fleeting glance. In this case there was something wrong with her beer. Was she missing one? She went shopping the other day, and only allowed herself and one a day or less, so surely she couldn’t have had more than one.

She counted a few more times, but came to the conclusion that she was, somehow, short one beer.

She took a step back when she felt something crunch beneath her heel. Lifting her foot she saw a pebble and some dirt, something she hadn’t noticed before. Didn’t she just clean the other day? Looking around she noticed more and more dirt leading from her kitchen and to the back door.

A back door that wasn’t locked.

If there was one thing she was absolutely sure about, it was that she ALWAYS locked her doors.

Her blue eyes flitted to the TV, noting the news report about an escaped convict, but surely he wouldn’t have run into a suburban neighborhood. That kind of stuff only happened in movies. Right?

She broke into a run, heading for her front door, but her hand had barely touched the knob when she felt someone wrap their arm around her waist and a hand clap over her mouth. Reacting purely on instinct, she stumped on their foot, eliciting a manly grunt of pain, and elbowed them in the ribs causing them to release her.

Momentarily free, she ran for the back door, telling herself she just had to get next door to Dick and Korys house. Nobody may have been home, but she would have felt safer in a cops home.

She weaved through the kitchen, aware that he was right behind her, but she kept her eyes on the door. She put her hands around the knob, but felt a pair of hands grab her arms and pull her back. She stumbled over something, him possibly, and fell backwards, hitting her head on the counter and collapsing onto the floor unconscious.

—:0:—

Her head was pounding as she slowly came back to consciousness, but when she tried to move her hands, they were stuck, in fact she couldn’t move any part of her body. Regardless of how much pain she was in, her eyes snapped open, finding that she was tied to a chair. Her hands had been pulled behind the chair, rope wrapping around her wrists and to the bars of the chair. Her ankles had been tied to the bottom rung of the chair and rope had been thrown over her lap, waist, and shoulders to keep her tied firmly to the chair back. Moving her head she felt one of her scarves had been stuffed in between her teeth and tied behind her head.

Saying she was in trouble was an understatement.

She wanted to panic, but she forced her rational, obsessive mind to take control. She took a few breaths through her nose to assess her situation. Looking around she was in her bedroom, the curtains drawn and the door closed. She had been tied to one of her kitchen chairs with rope that she kept in her garage that she used when she went camping to enjoy nature and solitude.

Her panic returned.

She had been unconscious, did he…?

She looked at herself, and aside from the rope she was still in the clothes she was in when she got home, white button up shirt and black skirt with flats, and nothing had been removed. Aside from the pain in her head, and the discomfort of the rope, she didn’t feel pain anywhere else.

Her rational mind returned.

So he knocked me out? Tied me up, but didn’t take advantage of me? He’s probably looting my home. But all of her valuables were in her room, were she was alone.

Still, a strange man was in her home, she was tied up and helpless. This wasn’t good.

Red and blue lights flashed outside her window, and a spark of hope lit inside her. Using her whole body, she began pushing the chair towards the window. If she could somehow get the curtain open, maybe someone could see her and possibly rescue her.

It was worth a shot, but not to be.

The door to her room opened and her chair was quickly grabbed and pulled away from the window. She grunted and growled behind her gag, struggling against the tight ropes. Whatever he was going to do, she was going to make it as hard for him as possible.

But she wasn’t expecting this.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry! Please calm down! please!”

She paused. Sorry? Please? She focused on the man, seeing that it wasn’t quite a “man” at all. He was young, twenties maybe, with disheveled blonde hair and a dirty complexion and clothing. His eyes were a piercing green that were pleading, fearful, and remorseful. Her brows narrowed, angry, but curious. What kind of home intruder was this?

He sighed in relief when she settled down. “Thank you.” He stood up and started pacing, his hands running through his blonde locks. “I am so, so, so, so, sorry about this. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Any of this. It's just—ugh!” She involuntarily flinched at his outburst. “Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry I didn’t mean…” He continued babbling incoherently, that was beginning to grate on her nerves, but looking past him, saw that he had brought in a water bottle. For her maybe?

“Uughmph!” She grunted to get his attention, then motioned her head towards the water bottle.

“Oh! Yeah!” He grabbed it and brought it towards her. “Sorry, I’m just,” he paused, “wait, you're not gonna scream are you?”

She watched him closely, he broke into her home, attacked her, tied her up, and was now helpless and at his mercy.

Yet she wasn’t afraid.

Slowly, she shook her head no. He eyed her for a moment, but slowly came up to slip the gag from her mouth.

She moved her jaw around, sighing with relief, but didn’t scream. “Thank you.” She could see weight being lifted from his shoulders and a small, attractive smile on his lips. “Um, water?”

“Oh yes!” He brought it to her lips and allowed her a small drink. Her eyes closed at the liquid cooling her insides, helping to soothe and calm her down. She finished and he took the bottle away.

“Thank you.” She flexed against the rope. “Now can you untie me?”

The weight returned, and his smile faded into a worried stare. “Um… not yet, but if you don’t scream I’ll keep the gag out.”

Their eyes met, and still she couldn’t find any malice or maliciousness. She didn’t feel threatened, rather this felt like a necessity for him, self preservation, like a cornered animal.

Still she had to keep her guard up.

“Fair enough.”

He sighed again, becoming more relaxed, and he sat on top of her bed, a heavy silence settling between them. “So, um, you’re probably wondering what’s going on?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m mildly curious.”

He laughed nervously. “Right. Well, um, I’m Gar, and I’m…”

“—on the run from the police?” He looked surprised, “you’re on the news. Everyone is looking for you.”

His eyes dipped with what looked like hurt. “Oh.” Her head tilted in curiosity as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry…”

Now getting annoyed, “You’ve said that already.” She struggled against the ropes again. “Do you mind telling me what you're doing here?”

He lifted his head, wiping away a few tears. “Sor—erm, yes. Well,” he stood up, “I should start from the beginning I guess. So I was dating this girl, Terra, and I was crazy about her, but what she didn’t tell me was that another guy was obsessed with her. Some guy named Slade, I don’t know, but anyways he was stalking her, calling her, following her, all kinds of stuff.”

He slowed down, his voice tightening up. “I, uh, was at work, and when I got home…” his hands came up to his mouth, “she was…”

She couldn’t help but feel pity for him. “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, wiping his tears again. “Thanks. Anyways I called the cops and when they showed up, they arrested ME?”

Her head lifted. “What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. They just showed up and slapped the cuffs on me! Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

She waited a beat, wondering if he was serious or just stupid. “No. I have no idea what it’s like for someone to come uninvited to my home and restrain me against my will.”

He chuckled nervously. “Heh. Sorry—I mean. Um… anyways…”

There was silence for a moment or two. “Why did you escape? Why not just go to the station and plead your case?” She asked.

“I did! I mean, I wanted to…but I don’t know.” His hands ran through his hair again. “The cop car they took me in was T-boned, and the next thing I knew I was running for my life.”

She quirked a brow as she came to the conclusion on her own. “You mean you broke into my home by chance?”

He nodded. “It was the only home I saw with the lights off at the time, I picked the lock, and snuck inside. I grabbed a beer and was gonna leave when the heat died down, but then, I heard your neighbors leave so I hid.”

“Then I got home, and the rest is history.” She finished.

“Yeah. I hid as best I could, but when I saw you see the dirt on the ground, I knew I was done.” He motioned to the ropes. “I didn’t mean to do that to you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I just panicked.”

She relaxed a bit. “I see.”

Silence again, this time a bit more uncomfortable. “So, um, what’s your name?”

He shrunk beneath her glare. “You broke into my home, knocked me out, drank my beer, and tied me up. We are not going to have small talk.”

He gulped with another nervous smile. “Cool.”

He clapped his hands on his knees. “So what now?” She asked.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

She pulled against the rope again. “Well if you're open to suggestions.”

“I know, I know, I can untie you and I will, I promise. I just need to think.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well take your time, it’s not like my hands need steady blood flow or anything.” She softened her tone. “But seriously. You need to turn yourself in, if you’re innocent then an investigation will show that.”

He nodded. “I know, I know. I guess I’m just not a fan of being caged or anything.” He stood up. “Just, give me a minute.” He left her alone, giving her a chance to test the ropes again, but they were unyielding. She couldn’t help but feel impressed by his knot work.

After a few minutes of struggling she sat back and relaxed, unable to free herself she had nothing left to do but wait for him to let her go. Hopefully soon since she had lost the feeling in her hands a while ago.

Finally after what felt like ages he returned. “Okay, here’s the plan.” He untied the scarf from her neck. “I’m going to turn myself in, but there’s some things I need to do first, but here’s the bad part. I’m gonna to leave you here.”

She was actually relieved to hear this. He wasn’t dangerous, sure, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be a hostage. “But I’m not gonna untie you either. I’m gonna make a 911 call and tell them about a pretty dark haired woman tied up and get the cops to come and untie you. Sound good?”

Her face was placid as she responded, but ultimately relieved. “Do I have a choice?”

He chuckled. “I guess not. Again, I’m sorry about all this.”

He brought the scarf to her mouth to regag her. “Rachel.”

“Huh?”

“My name. It’s Rachel.”

He smiled. A wide smile that made her stomach flutter. “Rachel. Nice to meet you.”

—:0:—

The door burst open. “Police! Show me your hands!” Rachel flinched at the light shining in her eyes. “Is there anyone else in the house?” She shook her head as the officer came closer once the light was out of her eyes, she saw her neighbor, Dick Grayson remove the gag from her mouth.

“Took you long enough,” she droned, “did you stop for drive through?”

He let out a relieved chuckle, “Don’t you mean, ‘thank you for saving me’?”

“You’re right Dick, how about I give you a big hug… Oh wait.”

He moved behind her and began to undo the ropes. “Did you see who did this to you?”

“Nope.” She stated matter of factly. “They knocked me out and I woke up like this.”

#dc comics #dc comics fanfic #bbrae ship #bbrae fan art #bbrae comic #bbrae fanfiction #teen titans fanfiction #AU Teentitans #bbraeAU

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

mgg fluff!!! like maybe a super cute romantic date where you both dress up or something like that 🥺

I’ve been writing so much smut the idea of writing a scenario without sex is actually feeling foreign rn WOW lmao ok this was fun to write. here’s some fancy-date pure fluff for you, babe!

summary: Matthew takes reader out for a fancy dinner, and the two make the most of their evening together.

word count: 2.1k

content warnings: none! short but sweet.

I swipe the glossy red shade over my lower lip, touching up my makeup before we head out tonight. despite the fact that we’ve been dating for a few months now, the idea of Matthew taking me out to eat-- really taking me out-- is making me positively giddy.

capping the tube and doing a quick once-over in the mirror, I admire the dress I’m wearing. it’s new, something I may or may not have splurged on after work today. it’s a creamy, inky shade, the color of pitch with an open back that I would normally never deign to wear. but something about it, the way the fabric sits against my shoulder blades, makes me confident.

after fluffing up my hair a little, I move into the living room to join my boyfriend. he’s fixing one of his monogrammed cuff links, and he looks up at the sound of my footsteps.

his eyes run over me, the bloom of my mouth and the dress, and he smiles dreamily, not saying anything. my stomach is overflowing with butterflies as I look at him in his suit, so well-dressed. we stare at each other for a moment.

“so?” I grin, walking over to him and running my hands up his chest. “how do I look?”

“you...” his gaze flickers to my pout, then my form. “you’re an angel.”

I reach up and am about to kiss his cheek when I remember that I’ve got lipstick on. “I’ll kiss you later.”

“that’s fine,” he sighs, then takes my hand and spins me around in front of him. “I’m still in shock from how beautiful you are!” he says the last few words in his stupid monster voice, reaching out and tickling my sides while he pulls me into him.

“Matthew!” I squeal, trying to breathe through the laughter. he knows I’m especially ticklish. once he finally relents, I look up at him with a huge smile on my face. sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming with him.

“we’re gonna be late, baby.” he tugs on my earlobe playfully before taking my hand again and leading me into the entryway so we can put our coats on. winter is just starting, dusting the sidewalks with fluffy snow and blowing wind in our faces as we start walking to the car. he holds the door open, as usual, and before long, we’re off to the restaurant.

even though Matthew is a bit of a reckless driver, I trust him. I’ve never told him this, but I love the way he places his hand on the back of my seat and turns around to assess the road behind him before he pulls out. something about it makes my blood warm up. he catches me looking, smiles and asks if I’m okay.

I’m fucking fabulous.

the restaurant is way fancier than I even imagined: cavernous ceilings that drip with chandeliers and walls covered in expensive-looking art. velvet curtains cover the windows, creating a wine-red ambiance of jazz and gentle conversation.

I must look dumb just staring at everything, but Matthew goes to the maitre d’ and gets our reservation ready. we never go on dates this fancy; most of the time, we stay in and binge watch old movies or play board games or just talk. he said he wanted to treat me, though, so I’m more than happy to go along with it.

part of me feels slightly out-of-place as the host leads us to a secluded table, walking past rich-looking couples or groups of people who appear to be socialites. as much as I wish I could blend in with this crowd, I keep worrying that I’m going to trip or somehow break something. elegant situations tend to make me especially clumsy.

once we’re seated and handed our menus, the host leaves us to talk.

“wow.” my eyebrows raise as I check out the options. Matthew looks up.

“what?”

“this place is fancy.” the corners of my mouth tug upwards. some of the items are in French, which makes the process even harder to untangle.

“too much?” he’s a bit wary as he asks, like he’s afraid I don’t like it.

“no, no.” I laugh. “I’m just impressed.”

“you wanna get a bottle of wine?” he asks softly, grabbing the wine menu. I nod.

“sounds good.” I think for a second. “do you happen to speak French?”

“dónde está el baño?” he jokes. before I can stop myself, I reach over the table and hit his arm, both of us laughing. it must be a bit too loud, because a couple people around us turn their heads. I settle back in my seat.

“that wasn’t funny.” I’m giggling.

“I wish I knew French.” he muses, still perusing the wine selection. I sigh.

“honestly, me, too. very sophisticated.”

“are we supposed to pair our wine with our food?” he whispers over the table.

“you think I know the protocol for this kind of place?” I hiss back.

“you know, what? who cares?” he sets down the menu and gives me a resigned smile. Matthew has always been uninhibited, and him deciding to just go with the flow gives me a warm feeling in my tummy. it’s one of the most attractive things about him, in my opinion.

when the waiter comes to take our orders, Matthew and I just get a merlot and filet mignon, both of us starving. in the meantime, we talk about his day and my day and he tells a funny story about his friend. somehow, he and I always have the best conversations, even if they’re about nothing at all.

literally you could ask us to discuss paint drying and we’d find a way to laugh about it.

“I was thinking... I’m gonna have a vacation soon,” he trails off, the antique ring on his pinky finger clinking against his wine glass. “maybe we could go somewhere?”

“somewhere like...?” I gesture for him to keep talking. he grins.

“you can decide. as long as it’s fun.”

“what? no, you can’t put that pressure on me, Matthew.” I laugh. there are so many places I want to see, and places that I know he wants to see, that I don’t wanna pick the wrong place.

“why not?”

“well, let’s do this,” I sit up more, resting my elbows on the table. the candle in the middle of the table flickers, casting his features in a pretty glow. “you list some places you’d like to visit, and if there’s some overlap, we’ll do that.”

“okay.” he rubs his hands together, then starts to think about it. I wait patiently, sip my wine and start to imagine how many possibilities there are for us. hiking along mountain trails, zip-lining through rainforests. if I’m being honest, I kind of just want to relax.

he breaks my train of thought as soon as he begins to tack off places.

“we could go to Costa Rica, or Croatia, or Mauritius... the Azores...”

“oooh, you know, I’ve heard the Azores are absolutely gorgeous.” my eyes sparkle as I think about the little islands. “and they’ve got these super nice hot springs, too.”

“private hot springs?” he asks me over the rim of his glass. my spine tingles with the implication.

“you wanna fuck in a hot spring?” I almost laugh. he reaches across the table and twines his fingers with mine, thumb rubbing over the back of my hand softly.

“I wanna do it on every continent.” he winks, then pulls away as our food arrives. I try to suppress the heat rushing to my cheeks and regain my composure even though my entire nervous system feels like it’s short-circuiting at the thought.

I try to put those images out of my mind before we thank the waiter, and then we’re staring down at the plates in front of us with surprise. the portions are ridiculously small-- mignon usually isn’t that big, but it’s such a fancy-restaurant-move.

Matthew and I start to giggle to ourselves, picking up our forks and eating. I’m not upset or anything; it’s sort of funny. instead, we share asparagus and dig into the meal.

“do you think they’ll be mad at us for laughing at the nickel-sized food?” I question. it’s really tasty, to be fair, but I have to take small bites so as not to mess up my lipstick.

“for the amount they’re charging, they’re probably the ones laughing.” he replies. I snort, reach up, and he high-fives me.

“that was good.” I concede.

“thanks,” he smiles, wipes his mouth with a napkin before focusing back on me. “so, back to the topic at hand-- are we going to the Azores?”

“only if you want to.” I smile.

“I’m the one that suggested it.”

“okay, then. I guess it’s settled.” I shrug. we set our forks down, done with our food already after about twenty minutes. we start to talk logistics and things we want to do there, excitement building in my stomach the whole time. I love spending time with Matthew-- having him all to myself for a couple weeks sounds like literal paradise.

he looks so pretty right now, too, with his glasses and fluffy hair and the ever-present smile. everything about him exudes positive energy, and I’ll never get over that sensation. I just can’t believe how lucky I am.

“I have an urgent question.” he tells me suddenly, completely serious. I straighten up and frown at him.

“shoot.”

“do you think we can get ice cream? somewhere else?” he asks. I make a face at the way he set me up for suspense, but the relief is overwhelming and my stomach still isn’t full from the small filet. I nod quickly.

he gets the waiter’s attention, pays, and before I know it, we’re walking back to the car.

“thank you.” I nudge his shoulder with my own, both of us bundled up in our coats. he leans down to kiss the top of my head before wrapping his arm around me.

“of course, darling.”

I like his little pet names, how he says them with the kind of sweetness that nearly rots my teeth. even if Matthew didn’t tell me he loved me every day, I would be able to tell just from the way he speaks. like I’m the only girl in the world.

we end up driving to a small ice cream shop by our home, a place that we always visit during the summer if it gets hot and we want sugar. there’s almost nobody inside and we look sort of absurd in our fancy attire, but when I get to the counter to order, I let loose.

salted caramel with oreo crumbles in a waffle cone, piled high. he gets chocolate fudge and we lick at our confections while he pays. it’s so yummy, hitting the spot in a way that a small slice of steak just couldn’t. even though it’s winter, ice cream is always good.

“is my lipstick all gone?” I grin, looking up from my cone to ask. we go to sit in the back room of the shop, which is completely empty.

“mostly, but there’s a little bit...” he grabs my face across the table and guides me to him, sliding his tongue over my lower lip and pulling away to smirk. “got it.”

“uh huh.” I chuckle.

“you taste sweet.”

“you wanna lick?” I offer my cone and he nods, trying it before offering me his own.

“literally how is ice cream so good?” I ask as we go back to our treats. music from the 50′s is playing over the speakers, delightfully saccharine as we just enjoy each other’s presence.

“no idea. but I love the person who invented it.” he says dreamily. “also, sorry about tonight. I know it was kind of a bust.”

“what?” I stop eating for a second. “Matthew, that wan’t a bust!”

“the portions were so small.” he can’t get over this. I snicker to myself.

“sure, but I had a great time.”

“are you sure? I can plan something else special for us.” he gives me puppy dog eyes, afraid that I’m disappointed. I could never be disappointed by a date with him.

“don’t worry about that. let me do the work next time.” I shrug.

“like?”

“like I’ll make an itinerary for our trip. that way you don’t have to stress about activities.”

“you and your itineraries.” he shakes his head slowly, but he’s laughing.

“have they ever failed?” I ask, then tap my finger to my ear as if daring him to reply. when he just smirks in response, I get smug. “that’s what I thought.”

“I love you.” the words come out of nowhere, a heavy sentiment for a light-hearted conversation. every time he says it, I feel it. that deep, burning adoration in my bones. I admire him for a moment.

“I love you, too.”

#matthew gray gubler #mgg fluff #mgg oneshot

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

therapy

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, mental illness, eventual smut && SPOILERS

word count: 16k

description: part 4 of 5. SPOILERS; DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FILM -- ransom’s therapy sessions during the assitant && four christmases and a little bit beyond.

note: so this took me forever and i was originally going to write couples therapy at the end, but it just didn’t flow as nicely. i’m probably only going to write one more part for this, but i hope you guys enjoy it. honestly. i’m writing this for you.

session #1

“Court mandated therapy,” He scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. “What a fucking joke.” He looked across the dining table at you, noticing how you were growing impatient. This whole situation, you moving in and encroaching on his bachelor pad, the house arrest, was fucking annoying. And now therapy. Your jaw twitched in annoyance, a tell tale sign he knew well.

“You’re getting off easy,” you would remind him, “I’m taking your punishment after all.” Taking his punishment, sure, and getting paid almost 210k a year to do it. There’s no sympathy there. You’re getting your money and his life goes on, almost, as normal.

To be fair he was pretty fond of you. You were the only consistent thing in his life for the past two years as much as he’d hate to admit it, nothing would get done if you weren’t around. Not a damn thing. He’d never tell you that though. Especially not now when you’re rearranging his unused study for use of him and the therapist who would be arriving soon, setting out water, a couple snacks, and optimistically tissues.

“Just in case.” You told him. Ransom doesn’t cry. He remembers the last time he really cried, like really cried and it was when he was a kid. His father had laid into him for playing with his novelty golf clubs. Screaming, red faced, spittle landed on his own hot cheeks.

He shook his head to rid himself of the memory.

“I don’t want to do this.” He sounded like a child, whining. He knew. But to be fair, he really didn’t want to fucking do this. He watched you walk away towards the kitchen to clean up what you’d made for lunch. You’d only lived with him for a week, but it was longer than any other woman had ever stayed with him.

It was strange.

He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he stared at your ass while you wiped down the counter, catching crumbs. You hated him, he knew. Not completely, which he also knew, but enough that you’d never fuck him. Why would you want to?

He couldn’t resist, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you rinse the rag off in the sink. “You can tell them I’m sick, can’t come down.” Muffled into her shoulder. He really sounded like a child now, Mommy please make the bad guy go away, I don’t want to see him.

“This could be really good for you Ransom.” Her damp hands covering yours. “Go get changed, he’ll be here soon.” He was still in his gym clothes, sweat ring dried around his neck. He was sure he smelled pretty foul too, about thirty minutes later and a quick jerk in the shower left him a little more relaxed than before.

The man was older, bald, glasses. He looked like he just stepped off the screen typecast as a therapist in a psych ward. Tweed. So much tweed. He started a tape recorder, “My name is Henry Dowd.” You had greeted Dr. Dowd with a pleasant smile and shook his hand. Ransom had immediately felt a vein of envy, you’d never smiled at him like that. “I’m fifty-seven years old, I’ve been practicing for just about 25 years now—“

“Fantastic doc,” Ransom sunk back into his chair, “Listen, what do I have to pay you to make you go away?” The Doctor froze, adjusting his glasses before leaning back in his own chair.

“Do you often use money to eliminate things that make your life uncomfortable?” Of course he did. He immediately thought of you, sitting not more than twenty feet away probably unironically watching Forensic Files on the couch while folding his laundry.

“I don’t need therapy.” Ransom scoffed, “C’mon.” He smirked at the Doctor, “You don’t wanna make this drive every week just like I don’t wanna sit in this room and whine to you about my problems.”

“So are you admitting you have problems?” The Doctor asked, fingers meeting his chin.

Ransom didn’t like this guy. Fuck this guy. Ransom stared at him in silence for a minute.

“What’s your plan here Doc?” Legs spread wide, sunk in the armchair, Ransom mimicked studying the man just as he was studying Ransom.

“Hopefully we will discuss what in your life led you to murdering someone simply because you weren’t going to get you allowance anymore.” The Doctor was slick. He said it with an air of superiority.

Fuck this guy.

“You wanna know?” Ransom asked, sitting up and leaning forward in his seat. “You really wanna know why I murdered her [Fran]?”

The Doctor’s eyebrow raised.

“She didn’t tuck in the corners of my sheets how I like em.” Ransom smirked.

The Doctor hummed in response, taking a notepad and scribbling something down.

“What’re you writing?” Ransom tried to peer at the legal pad in the man’s lap. Dowd lifted it away from his gaze. “This is fucking pointless.”

“Whether you like it or not I’ll be with you for an hour every Thursday for the next 104 weeks.” Dowd smiled, “Whether you take this seriously or not is up to you, but I’m sure someone as intelligent as you knows that you will get as good as you give. The whole reason for me being here is because you have no money, isn’t that correct?” Ransom’s jaw clenched. “So I’m not going to take your bribe, but you can go ahead and try next week if you’d like. Maybe between now and then you can think of something to talk about.” Dowd packed his belongings, shoving the tape recorder in a side pocket of his bag and scribbling once more on his legal pad before storing that too.

“That’s it?” Ransom looked at the clock. It had only been twenty minutes. Dowd smiled at him.

“I’m going to give your babysitter out there some homework for you in preparation for a week from today.” Dowd went to leave the room, “Let her know I’ll take a tea next time.”

Ransom’s knuckles were white, fisted at his sides, he stood up from the chair a minute later, peeking out into the living room to watch you talk to the Doctor, a soft smile on your face. He wanted to hit him.

He wanted to hit him real fucking bad.

He watched you gently place a hand on the Doctor’s arm and guide him from the house. “We’ll see you next week!” The door shut and the smile fell from your face, turning to meet his eyes in the doorway of the study. You let out a heavy sigh and rubbed your temples.

“You can’t try and bribe a court mandated therapist Ransom!” There was a fire in your eyes, it made his cock twitch. He had a brief thought about biting your bottom lip, “He can actually help you!” You continued as you approached, walking by him to clean up the snacks and water that went untouched.

“I don’t need help.” He claimed. You gave him a disbelieving look.

“You need help.” He felt his neck flush with anger.

“Fuck you.” He watched as you walked away from him, not responding. “You need help. What kind of fucking person agrees to take someone’s house arrest huh?” He asked, following you into the kitchen. “You’ve got to have some kind of fucking issues doing something like that.” You’d slammed the tray on the counter, turning to look at him angrily. He was at half mast.

“Why don’t you go out Ransom?” You seethed, “Go have a drink.” He could feel his face heat up, he’s not going to let you win this.

“You know what?” He spat, “I think I will. I’m going to take my untethered ass out. Have fun sitting inside these four walls for the next two years you ungrateful bitch.” He could tell you were holding back, but he didn’t wait for the response, grabbing his coat and slamming the door on the way out.

Later that night, drunk and speech slurring he slammed the body of a girl against your door. Rutting his sloppy hips against her panty clad core.

He’s not going to let you sleep tonight.

You didn’t deserve to.

session #8

“We can sit here for the entire hour in silence, just like all the others,” Dowd started, “Or you can choose to talk today.” Ransom wouldn’t meet his eyes. He was still pissed that you’d taken his phone so he couldn’t sit here and stare at it like he had been for the last few weeks.

“He told me that you’re on your phone the entire time!” You had shouted, “It’s disrespectful.” He’d rolled his eyes heavily, “He’s gonna come back every week whether you do something or not.” You seemed brave. Your started putting your foot down more lately. Ransom wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t like it.

He was itching to do something else, anything else. The beginning of the manuscript that sat open on the desk behind him and he was pretty pissed he’d been disturbed right when he started chapter six. He found that if he was stopped in the middle of a chapter it was hard to get back into the flow of it, the words pouring from his mind out onto the computer screen faster than he could keep up with.

It was like being edged.

Ransom was into instant gratification.

He could hear an old clock he’d taken from his Grandfather’s study ticking on the bookshelf to his left.

“I see you’ve begun writing.” The Doctor offered, “Have you always thought about writing a novel?” Ransom’s jaw twitched.

“No.”

The Doctor gave him a forced smile. “Have you found it enjoyable so far?” This was a waste of time.

“Yes.”

Scribbling.

“What is your book about?” Ransom smirked.

“Murder.” The Doctor hummed,

“Following in your Grandfather's footsteps then?” Ransom studied the Doctor for a minute.

“What did your Grandfather do?” He asked the man. The Doctor tapped his pen against the armrest.

“He was a traveling salesman.” Dowd humored him. “Much more lucrative business before the internet and the home shopping network.”

“Didn’t know I’d be good at it.” Ransom admitted gruffly, “You wouldn’t be a good salesman.” Dowd gave him a real smile.

“I would be a terrible salesman.”

Silence for a few minutes more. The ticking of the clock driving an ice pick into Ransom’s brain.

“Do you think he would be proud of you?” Dowd asked. “Your Grandfather?”

Harlan wasn’t proud of anyone but himself.

Linda had built a real estate empire and he still wouldn’t give her the validation of knowing she’d done a good job. His last dying action was letting her know her husband was fucking someone else. What kind of father was that?

Harlan wouldn’t have cared if Ransom had begun writing before his death. He would have dismissed him. Not even competition.

Ransom scoffed at the man’s question, not answering.

“So he wouldn’t?” Ransom felt uncomfortable now. He watched the guy out the corner of his eye lift the tea cup you’d gently placed beside him before they began and raise it to his lips. Ransom had let his guard down. The guy was playing with him.

“His opinion doesn’t matter to me.” Ransom spat, eyes flickering over to the clock. They still had thirty minutes left.

“Seems like it does.” The Doc rubbed his fingers together, thinking. “What was Harlan Thrombey like?” Ransom sucked his teeth,

“Why? You a fan?” He laughed, his hand gestures to the bookshelf beside him. “I got a couple signed copies up there if you want one.”

The Doc shook his head, “He must have been pretty distant. I’ve heard writers tend to be.”

“You’re basing your analysis off of rumor?”

“Well, you’re a writer,” he smirked, “You’re plenty distant.” Ransom’s knuckles grew white at his sides,

“I’m not my Grandfather.” He said.

“No,” Dowd assured him, “You’re not. But we all bear the scars of our own upbringing in one way or another.” The timer went off.

“Time to go, doc.” Ransom stared at him as though daring him to continue, but he didn’t. He turned the tape recorder off and packed his bag as usual. Ransom didn’t raise to watch him leave, but he heard him through the open door thank you for the tea.

“We have a couple different kinds if you’d like something different next time.” He hated the sound of you being pleasant right now, especially to that man. The fucking prick.

“No, no. It was perfectly fine thank you.” The door shutting and the quiet ramble of the tv. Ransom shot from his seat, walking to the bar cart he’d had you set up in his room, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey and shot it back before pouring four.

He’d heard you clear your throat from the doorway, coming in to clean up the doctor’s empty teacup and his own untouched coffee. “How was your session?” You asked him.

He felt heat creep up his neck. “Get out.”

He could feel your eyes on his back, the rattling of the cups as you gathered them with one hand, your other coming to rest on the middle of his back.

“Ransom, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” He slowly turned, taking a sip of his whiskey and grabbed your arm, the promise of never hurting you again that he’d made after his birthday dinner alerting him somewhere in the back of his mind.

He attentively grabbed your arm in a soft grip, “Get out.” Whether it was a plea or demand he didn’t know. He held direct eye contact, your face held a flash of fear. Somewhere he would feel guilty about this. He’d released your arm and watched you walk from the room, casting him one more glance before he none to gently slammed the door behind you.

Later that night he could swear he had alcohol poisoning. An angel had rolled him into his side as he’d vomited. She’d gotten him into bed, she’d even undressed him and was kind enough to leave a glass of water and two aspirin on his night stand.

It must have been a dream, because his study was spotless the next day and the bottle of whiskey he’d sworn he’d reached the bottom of sat full on his bar cart. He looked over to you for a moment, hand holding the cup of coffee you’d wordlessly prepared for him, before entering his study and shutting the door.

It was your job, why would he be surprised that you’d done it? And why should he thank you?

session #12

“Let's talk about something else today.” Dowd started, “You’re not giving me much headway for your family so let’s talk about something you love talking about.” He gave a playful smirk, “Yourself.”

Ransom rolled his eyes, cocking his head to the side looking at the Doctor across from him. The door had just shut and the prick was starting straight out the gate. It’s been four months and he hadn’t gotten anything out of this yet, other than being irritated and his monthly liquor consumption increasing exponentially. He’ll humor him.

“Why not?” Ransom shrugged, sinking into his seat, resting his ankle on his knee. “Whatcha got Doc?”

“What did you like to do before the trial?” He asked, “Give me a day in the life.” Ransom traced his bottom lip with his tongue before starting.

“I would wake up, go to the gym, come home, eat breakfast, watch some tv, go out with friends.” He shrugged. “The usual.”

“Do you still have contact with these friends?” No. He didn’t. He jaw locked.

“No.” The Doctor nodded.

“So where does Y/N come into this day?” Ransom shifted in his seat.

“She would work 9 am to 9 pm, Tuesday through Saturday.” He picked a piece of lint off of his pants.

“And what does she do for you?” What do you not do for him?

“Cook.” He stated. “Clean.” A smirk pulled across his lips, “Take out the trash.” By trash he meant whatever girl he brought home the night before a joke he loved but you hated,

“They’re real people with real feelings Ransom.” You would tell him.

“Does she do anything else?” Dowd asked.

Ransom thought about the house arrest bracelet on your ankle, “She’s my assistant, so she does whatever I need her to.” He shrugged.

“And how does she fit into your day?” Ransom shook his head,

“She’s just there.” He gently bit the inside of his cheek. “She’s always just there.” The Doctor scribbled something into his notepad.

“How long has she worked for you now?”

“A little over two years.” Ransom fingered the handle of his coffee mug before decidedly bringing it up to his lips, he woefully realized that he could go for some whiskey in it.

Next time, he assured himself. Next time.

“Does she provide some stability for you?” The coffee mug clanged heavily on the end table next to him.

“I’ve always had stability.” Lies.

The Doctor took a sip of his tea, “But surely having companionship on a daily, consistent, basis must give you some comfort seeing as you no longer have contact with your friends.” It was jab wasn’t it. The friends not being there anymore.

To be fair as soon as Ransom was arrested and the news of the will broke he's not surprisingly had no longer been invited out. His so called friends seemed to be surprisingly absent in his time of need, but he reasoned if it had been any of them in his situation he would have done the same. They all knew they were parasites sucking off of each other, he didn’t need them anyway. He’d found a new source.

“Why are you making a big deal out of it?” Ransom snapped. “She works for me, that’s that.” The Doctor shrugged,

“If that’s how you feel.” Ransom scoffed, shaking his head.

“It is.” It wasn’t.

The two of you had been living together for four months now. He’d seen you wet from the shower. He knew what your perfume smelled like, distinctively. He figured he could pick you out of a crowd by scent alone. Everything you cooked tasted better than any food he’d ever had in his entire life. Sometimes when you were in an especially good mood you made these cookies with caramel in the middle and he’d eat three straight from the oven. Tongue being burned by molten caramel be damned.

He found himself looking at you sometimes, like really looking at you. Your brows would pull in concentration as you read the pages he gave you. Watching how you always slowly clicked the pen cap, sometimes sticking the pen in your ponytail when you’d get up to go make yourself your second cup of coffee. You always had two. Every morning.

He found himself not knowing why it mattered so much. Why your opinion mattered so much. His novel was almost finished but he had the feeling if you didn’t like it he would throw it straight into the garbage. Himself with it.

There was something about it, the contact. You didn’t seem to mind so he began taking different liberties. It’d started with hugs. He cringed at the thought of him sitting in your living room when you still lived in that god awful apartment. The scent of the building a mix of different foods seeping through the walls that almost made him sick. He hadn’t known what possessed him to do it, but pulling you into his lap had been one of the most comforting moments of his life.

He was touch starved he’d supposed, but it didn’t make much sense. He got plenty of touch from whoever was spreading their thighs for him. He had scratches down his back to prove it. Something was just different.

He would feel almost high with his arms wrapped around you. God forbid there was skin to skin contact somewhere. He would get lost in it. Hugs turned into thighs pressed against one another on the couch. An arm slung over the back, twirling a strand of your hair around his fingers.

“Do you feel like you’ve always had stability?” The Doctor brought his attention back, Ransom blinked twice as if in a daze.

“Of course.” He shrugged, “I had routine before all of this. I did the same thing every day and while those things changed, I have a consistent routine now.” The Doctor scribbled.

“Have you always had a routine or is it something that’s developed over time?” Truth he told his routine formed the day you walked through his front door the first time. The constant schedule that you’d laid out for him, right up to you finishing the dishes and leaving at 9 pm on the dot. He would follow you out into his own car and leave for the evening. A bar, a club, a dinner party.

“Over time.” He’d answered. He looked at the door, as though he could look through it and see you sitting on the sofa playing a game on your tablet, whatever show you were bingeing playing in the background.

The Doctor hummed. The timer went off. The session was over.

Tikka Masala. That’s what you’d made for dinner. He’d been smelling it for the last hour sitting in the study still typing, two glasses of whiskey in. Not enough to be drunk but enough to feel it.

“Are you going to eat here, or the dining room?” His eyes met yours in the doorway, you looked so soft.

“Here.” He said, not having room for much else as you disappeared from the doorway, reappearing a minute later with a steaming bowl and placing it in front of him. You lay a hand on his shoulder, he found his head tilting to the side to rest against it almost instinctively.

“How’s it coming along?” You’d stopped asking him about the therapy sessions. He thinks he probably scared you the last time you asked but that was just fine with him. He didn’t want to talk about it.

Any of it.

“I’m gonna have another chapter for you to read in an hour or so.” He brought a steaming forkful to his lips.

“It’s hot.” But too late, in his mouth, trying to rapidly cool it like an idiot, but fuck if it wasn’t delicious. He saw you roll your eyes at him and he turned to watch you leave. He’d found a small joy in seeing your ass in yoga pants. A skirt. Jeans. Sweats. Whatever you’d decided to wear around the house. His dick stiffened at the thought of grabbing it.

But he was a little tipsy. And he was getting tired.

He just wanted to finish the fucking book already.

session #26

Ransom was not having a good day today. He’d stubbed his toe getting out of bed, his cursing woke up the redhead who was still tangled in his sheets. She tried to pull him back into bed which caused him to yell at her. So she cried and angrily threw her clothes on cursing him all the way out the door. He got to the gym and realized he’d forgotten his AirPods and had to do his workout without music. Then to top it all off someone had the audacity to have all of this happen on a Thursday. Fucking court-mandated therapy day.

He irritatingly wondered what color tweed Dr. Dowd would be wearing today. The fucking loser. His wife probably cucks him. He’s probably got a fucking micro. The lunatic.

Ransom was seething. He’d already snapped on you twice, but to be fair you’d made him eggs when he wasn’t in the mood for eggs and then you were really calm about making him oatmeal. Too fucking calm. What was your problem? Jaw locked as he paced his bedroom. He wasn’t coming down. He wasn’t doing a session. He didn’t fucking want to. And no one could make him.

He was wearing a hole in the carpet when you’d knocked. His anger flaring. Why couldn’t you just leave him alone? Why did you always have to be right there no matter where he went? He wretched the door open, “What?” He felt crazy. Maybe he was.

You were staring at him with what looked like vague fear in your eyes, arms wrapped around yourself defensively. “Dr. Dowd is downstairs.”

“I’m not coming down.” You sighed heavily, looking down the hall at the stairwell.

“Ransom you have-” Door slammed he stared at the other side of it.

“I don’t have to do shit.” He screamed, locking the door and sitting on the floor in front of it. He felt like a child. His anger while still bubbling in his chest, was slowly ebbing away to a simmer. He felt like an idiot. He heard your footsteps disappear down the hall. Now he was fighting with his pride. He lay back against the floor, two vertebrae cracking as he stretched it out, staring at the ceiling.

It was silent for a minute. Then two. Then three. His breaths evening out as he lay on the rug, he could almost imagine himself sinking into the rug, becoming part of the stitching. His body dissolving into nothing. Was this depression?

Ransom would swear he’s never been depressed a day in his life. He has everything he could ever want. Including his freedom. He’s always had nice clothes, nice cars, there was never a lack of sex or money. If he wanted something it was his. So why did he feel so shitty? Right now in this moment. He’s never stopped to think about it before he figures.

Never stopped or tried to feel anything.

And right now as he was imagining himself decomposing into the floor he reasoned it must be because of depression.

“A lot of people get depressed, Ransom.” You’d explained to him once, “There’s no shame in it.” He’d been having a bad day, but those days just happen. He had scoffed at you for even assuming he was depressed, but right now he thinks you’re probably right.

There’s something wrong with him.

His book had just been published and it was doing well. Selling really well. He made the bestseller list this week. So there was really no reason for him to be feeling like such garbage right now. It was the only logical explanation, being depressed.

At least then he had something to blame it on.

Another gentle knock, “Ransom.” You voice called to him, breaking him from his reverie. “Dr. Dowd would like to come up and talk to you, is that okay?” Your voice was various, a little guilt formed in his chest. His voice cracked when he replied,

“Yes.” His face felt hot and the room felt stuffy. You had kept the windows open with the nice weather you’d been having lately. Airing out the house, a candle always burning with a calming scent. Ransom regrets telling you not to open his windows. He wanted to open them, but found himself unable to move from the carpet.

“How are you feeling today Hugh?” The Doctor’s voice came from the other side of the door. Ransom heard your soft footsteps retreating, the third step down the stairs creaking as you made your descent. Ransom’s heart began to steadily raise in pace.

“Just great Doc,” He bit, “Can’t you tell?”

“Are you feeling the need to harm yourself or others?” He asked, suddenly very serious. Ransom thought for a moment. Who would he hurt? You? No. Definitely not. Himself? He’s too vain for that.

“No.” His voice cracked again, why does it keep doing that? “No harm to myself or others.” The other side of the door was quiet for a moment more before the Doctor spoke again,

“Are you comfortable right now?”

“Yes.” Laying on the floor felt great on his back truthfully.

“Emotionally.” What is that supposed to mean? The turmoil churning in his gut screamed at him. Playing dumb won’t help him here. “What happened today that you won’t meet me downstairs? You haven’t missed a session yet.”

Ransom shook his head wordlessly. He’d been fighting the Doctor. Every week, skating around questions, not answering them all together. He felt an urge to let it go. To just spill everything that was churning around in his gut. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Maybe a little.

“It’s just a bad day.” That was enough. It should be.

“What happened?” There was a creak on the other side of the door. A settling sound.

Ransom explained. His morning was just frustrating. One thing compounded on another causing his whole routine to be thrown off.

His routine.

“Is it possible that all of this frustration and anger have come out due to your routine being interrupted.” Yes.

“Probably.” Yes.

Silence, then the doctor spoke, “You can’t change the world around you, Hugh. You have no control. You will never have control.” Something was tight in Ransom’s chest. Fists clenched. “The only thing you can control is how you react to the world.” Hands relaxed, he felt his eyes prickle.

What the fuck is wrong with him? He shook his head. He felt out of control. He was completely out of control. He hated this. But maybe the Doc knew what he was talking about. Maybe this explains the disruption he’s felt. The anger that had ebbed away to a dull ache in his heart.

“Listen, Hugh.” The Doctor spoke kindly from the other side of the door, “Routine is good for you, it’s good for everyone. It’s beneficial for us to stick to our routines, however, if something happens that we can’t control it doesn’t mean the whole day is ruined.” The fan spun idly on the ceiling, Ransom dazed looking at the steady rotations as Dowd continued, “Get off the floor and move on.” His eyes dragged from the fan to stare at the door. “Get on with your day and try to do better next time because that’s all we can really do, try to do better.”

His hand met the knob and turned, shifting up to his feet as he met the sight of the older man on the other side who was leaning against the wall opposite the door. Ransom stared at him silently for a minute before opening his mouth to ask, “How?”

session #31

It was just there. Your wrist, open to him. And he wanted to kiss it, so he did. You’d stalled above him, hand still hovering where you’d just placed his cup of coffee next to him on his desk. He did it almost without thinking, gently wrapping his hand around your forearm and bringing your wrist to his lips, “Thank you.” He’d murmured, eyes not leaving the screen.

His second book has become much harder to write. He’d started three books. A couple chapters written for each, a path split. Where would he go? He was unsure. But the coffee you’d placed next to him that was made exactly how he likes it, it helped. A lot.

After the soft kiss placed on your wrist, the one that he’d not realized he’d even done until it was over, you’d gently rubbed his back for a moment before leaving, “Dowd will be here in about an hour if you need anything.” Your soft voice as you left. He’d wished you would have sat down for a bit, but he knows you have your own routine to follow.

“Describe your Mother to me.” Ransom scoffed, chest tight.

“Getting right to it.” He joked, Dowd smiled and nodded,

“We’ve been meeting for about eight months now and you’ve yet to talk about her.” Had it really been 8 months? Ransom’s palms suddenly felt very sweaty.

“She’s…” Ransom shrugged, eyes drifting to stare at something, anything else but meeting Dowd’s eyes. “She’s a Real estate Broker. She owns a company that is fairly successful. She’s recently divorced my Father for his infidelity—“

“Hugh, what about you?” Dowd asked, “How was she when you were a child?” Ransom hated this. He didn’t want to do it. Why did it matter?

“She was busy.” He said simply. “Always working, on the phone, both her and my Father.” Why did it matter? Dowd nodded, scribbling.

“Do you have some good memories of her?” Ransom didn’t. He knew his Mom loved him. He was her only child. There were pictures, her holding him when he was a baby, red faced and mucus covered in birth. His first birthday, she was sitting on the floor in the background, Ransom in the foreground standing, smiling with a ball in his pudgy baby hands. A picture of them in front of Niagara Falls when he was three. But none of that he can remember. Not really.

What he can remember is his first Nanny. A blonde named Samantha. She was young and sweet. She used to make him pancakes with blueberries in them. He wonders now if she left because of his prowling Father.

A different nanny, older had taken her place. He couldn’t remember her name but he could remember, vaguely, the crack of a ruler on his knuckles. His Mother had flipped her kid when she came home and seen them. Knuckles ripped open and clotted.

She’d given him a Nintendo 64 for that. It still sits upstairs in the bedroom you now occupied. He thought and he thought hard before replying, “No.”

He’d felt cheap. “Every good memory of her involves money in some way.” He stated plainly. The Doctor had told him instances of money bought happiness didn’t count. Ransom had always been rich of course, money as a substitute for the love of his Mother, Dowd explained. He wondered if his Mother paying you to take his house arrest was an apology for his parent’s quick divorce. As if he even cared.

“It’s okay to be hurt by her,” Dowd started, “She didn’t provide the love and affection a Mother should. Children need nurturing to form themselves as they mature into adults. The lack of nurturing in no doubt has affected you in some way.” Ransom felt uneasy. He didn’t like talking about this. But Dowd has told him time and time again, he’s not going to like talking about anything. Just try.

Ransom tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, looking at the empty coffee cup beside him.

“Do you think that maybe,” Dowd started, “You saw money as love and when that money was being taken from you then you realized that you’d have nothing left?” The Doctor rubbed his own chin. “Murder seemed like the only viable option?”

A chill ran down Ransom’s spine. A shake of the head. “I can’t do this today.” Dowd nodded.

“Okay,” he shifted in his seat, “What is Y/N making for dinner tonight?” This was how they had been cooling down. Every session since the one where Ransom has broken on the floor of his bedroom. A weekly distraction, bringing him back down from reaching his threshold. His hard limit. A little farther every week.

“I think she’s making—“ Ransom shrugged, “I mentioned wanting chicken parm, so that’s probably what she’s making.” That’s all he did. He would mention craving something and you would make it. The ingredients ordered through the local grocery store’s delivery app. You kept him happy and fed. His pants felt a little tighter around the waist recently. He’d have to work harder at the gym it seems.

Dowd nodded, “Sounds good.” He looked at the door that separated them from you. “She’s a sweet girl.” Ransom looked at the door as well,

“Yeah, she is.” The two sat in silence for a moment. The clock ticking. Ransom felt uncomfortable. Which wasn’t a new sensation in these conversations. He felt this sense of foreboding on Thursdays. Not that he didn’t when the sessions first started, but now that he’s actually talking in them acid was rolling in his gut on Wednesday night. The turmoil drowned in vodka sodas and a girl he thinks was named Bethany sucking his dick in the kitchen last night. His mind blissfully blank as she swallowed his cum. Her giggling mouth as her tangy lips met his.

His cock twitched at the thought, thinking about where he’s going to go tonight. Thinking about the girl he’d be bringing back here. The anger in your eyes tomorrow morning as you hand him his coffee after the gym, bitching about throwing the girl out and not so subtlety telling him that he’s an asshole. He really liked that. Your cheeks flushed. Eyes in a steady glare.

It’s what he deserved, he reasoned.

He wanted you to hate him. Because you should.

session #52

“Ransom.” Your gentle voice called to him, your back was facing him, chopping something by the stove.

“Yeah?” He called back, watching your arm move up and down, knife chopping steady against the butcher block cutting board.

“Something strange happened today, and,” You paused, huffing quietly. He watched your back tense, “There’s a letter on the table.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to open his mail. You sorted through it daily and it was something, frankly, he couldn’t be bothered with. He only wanted mail deemed important, didn’t care much for any Christmas cards or invitations to parties. Not that much came anymore.

The envelope sat ominous in the dining table. The top slit open in a straight line, white paper peeking from within. He picked it up, no return address. It reminded him of one thing and one thing only.

I know what you did.

He felt his neck grow hot, the chopping had stopped from behind him. What kind of joke was this? It had been a little over a year since his verdict. A little over a year since he…

He swallowed heavily, opening the letter, the bold black marker bleeding through the page.

You took her from us and you got away with it. You sick bastard. I hope you burn in hell.

And that was all of it. He carefully folded the paper back up, slipping it inside the envelope. The house was silent. No chopping. His hands braced on the back of the dining chair, he turns his head to look at you. You’re standing there in anticipation. For what?

Maybe he’ll scream. Shout. Bellow with anger so loud that the neighbor, closest one half a mile away, could hear him. Maybe he’ll break something. The four glass jugs that used to be five until he used one to commit arson. Maybe he’ll pull glasses out of the cabinets and shatter them on the ground by your feet. Maybe he’ll just collapse on the floor right here and cry.

For once in his entire pitiful life, a strange feeling brewed in his gut. A sick feeling he couldn’t place. Later on in the session, Dowd would tell him it’s guilt. But right now as he places the letter back down on the table, he walks to the downstairs bathroom and shuts the door before turning the sink on full blast and emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He grips the porcelain sides, coughing and sputtering. Eyes only watering from vomiting he’s sure as a choked sob echoes in the bowl. He spits, and spits again. Bare knees cold against the tile he stares at his vomit for a moment, before flushing the toilet and watching it disappear. The sick feeling is still there but he’s left with nothing but bile.

He stands, taking two stumbling steps to the sink and washing his face. Swishing around some mouthwash as he stares blankly at himself in the mirror. He knows another feeling. He knows this one. Disgust.

Self-loathing.

His knuckles gripping the sink and white. If he were any stronger it would have shattered under his grip.

He was in a state down with himself. Daring himself to move. Do anything. Move.

You pathetic piece of shit. You fucking baby. You really couldn’t do anything for yourself could you? So fucking scared and worthless that you had to try to fucking kill someone to keep some fucking money? And you were fucking stupid because you got caught. You were so fucking selfish because you killed her so you wouldn’t get caught.

You selfish bastard.

You worthless piece of shit. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of this. You should be where she is now. Rotting in a fucking grave. Maggots feasting on your flesh.

You did this.

His reflection looked pale. He felt sick again but all he did was dry heave. This was the worst feeling he’d ever felt in his life and he didn’t know what to do.

A gentle knock on the door.

“Ransom,” Your soft voice, “I have some ginger ale, it’ll help your stomach.” He hadn’t been as quiet as he thought. He unlocked the door, stepping from the bathroom. Suddenly tired. The glass was gently handed to him and he took a small sip. Eyes not meeting yours.

“I need to lay down for a bit.” A mumbled sentence. You nodded. Gentle hands grasped his biceps, rubbing soothingly as his head found your shoulder. Arms wrapping around each other you both stood there for a moment. Not saying anything.

He didn’t deserve you.

He knows that now.

“Has the family tried to contact you before?” Dowd asked later on that day.

Ransom felt unwell. He hated this. “No.” He shrugged. He must have been a sight. Still in his gym shorts and sweat stained t shirt. He was sunk down into his chair, hand covering his mouth, eyes blankly staring at a spot somewhere in the room past Dowd.

“So why suddenly do you feel this way?” Dowd asked, “You’ve not brought it up the entire year we’ve been talking.” A year since he murdered Fran. A whole year.

“I just haven’t thought about it.” He said. Why would he want to think about it? Dowd hummed, scribbling on his legal pad.

“They’re never going to be okay,” Dowd started, “They lost a daughter, a sister. Someone they can never get back.” Ransom was sure that made sense, the loss of someone you love. But he didn’t love anyone. Only himself.

His heart panged.

He couldn’t reason at the time because if any of his family members died it wouldn’t make a difference.

“What if someone had done the same to Y/N.” Ransom’s heart stopped, eyes finally looking at the doctor’s. “If she was working for someone else and they murdered her to cover up a scheme that wasn’t even successful in the first place.” Ransom’s neck grew hot. His hand at his side clenched in a fist.

“I would be angry.” He reasoned. Dowd nodded.

“That’s what they’re feeling right now.” He explained. “They’re angry because you took her away from them.”

Ransom’s throat felt like it was closing up. What was he supposed to do. He couldn’t change anything. He couldn’t go back.

“It’s a good thing,” Dowd assured him, “That you’re feeling this way.” Ransom felt sick. “This guilt, the remorse you’re feeling. You’ve come a long way in the last year Hugh.” Tears pricked at the corners of Ransom’s eyes. He willed them to stay put. “You can’t change what you’ve done. You’ve murdered someone, you took a life, for what was no reason. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your days, but you can try to do something for them. Anything. Nothing will ever make up for it, but you can try.”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to go to bed. He wanted to sink into his sheets and disappear. Maybe he could convince you to leave him there until he just wasted away. That sounds nice right now.

It was for no reason. Fran’s death. He could have just paid her off and gotten rid of her. There was no real proof that he’d done anything. The toxicology reports came back clean. His little switching of the bottle trick did nothing. Harlan skit his own throat.

Marta deserved the money.

He saw that now. And it didn’t matter if he’d been cut off or not because now he had his own money and his bank account was acquiring more every day.

So what was it all for?

It seemed so important at the time. He needed to do this. He had to. He needed the money. More than anything in the world. He was so focused on the one object before him. Tunnel vision. He didn’t see the details around the edges.

He couldn’t see the big picture.

What a selfish baby. A fucking coward.

This self loathing was all consuming.

He hadn’t left his bed in two days since the session. Since the letter. He knows you’re concerned. You check on him every once in a while. You trade out his picked at food and bring him fresh glasses of water. You’ve rubbed his back a couple times until he’s shrugged you off.

“Leave me alone.” Biting. He doesn’t mean it but he couldn’t stop it from coming out.

He was angry. Depressed. He didn’t know what to do. What can you possibly do?

It was snowing. The chill permeating from the glass. Contemporary floor to ceiling windows meant cold. It was falling in thick sheets, almost a foot overnight. And he was just staring at it fall. He’d been staring at it fall all night.

A clinking of a tray. The gentle click of the door closing, you rounded the bed, placing down a cup of coffee and some toast, removing the dishes from the end table.

“Ransom.” You whispered, brushing his greasy hair off his forehead. “You’re gonna finish this coffee, eat this toast, and take a shower before you come downstairs.” Your tone was authoritative. “You smell like shit.”

You sat there for a moment longer. He could feel you staring at him. He parted his chapped lips, “I killed her.” A whisper in a quiet room. His eyes red and blankly watching the snow fall. Voice raspy. “For nothing.”

“Yeah,” Your voice soft and sad, “You did.”

He wrote a letter. Put in a clause on the contract of his next book. Nothing would make it right, but he apologized. And Fran’s family was going to get a percentage of royalties from here on out.

He still felt sick.

session #67

He doesn’t remember what it feels like not to be hungover. The self loathing was drowned out with alcohol. It was the only thing he knew to do. The bottom of a bottle felt very comforting until the next morning when his sticky eyes couldn’t pry themselves open. The sick rolling in his stomach as he untangled himself from the mess of limbs. A sweat slick body in his sheets. A girl he couldn’t recognize. Sleepy, stumbling, hand coming down to unstick his balls from his thigh as he found the light switch.

Wincing and collapsing in front of the toilet to empty his stomach. Dizzy with it. Head spinning. He blindly reached for the clean blue towels you had placed next to the sink. Wiping his mouth and pulling himself up to brush his teeth, drinking water bent over, slurping loudly from the tap. There was a gentle relief to his body, like finally some water.

He shuffled back into the room, not casting a passing glance at the woman still asleep in his bed and he dressed to leave. He’ll go sweat this out in the sauna and she’ll be removed by the time he gets back.

He didn’t deserve you.

You should just leave.

He wants you to leave. He wants to be alone. Forever. It’s why he tries to make your job as hard as he possibly can. Never ending guilt churning in his stomach. The sickness sweats out in the sauna and when he pulls back up to the house the only car that sits in the driveway is yours, unused.

You’re humming when he enters the house and his cock twitches at the sight. It had just begun getting warmer outside. You’d ditched your cozy cardigans and wool socks for sundresses and tank tops. The appreciation shows. He adjusts himself in his shorts as he passes you, the knowing hand wordlessly giving him a cup of coffee made exactly how he likes it. He appreciates you. The comfort he’d not felt with anyone else.

He had a roommate in college.

A guy he had been friends with up until the trial. Another rich boy. Just like him. His name was Jeremy.

Ransom hated living with him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, he just liked his own space. Heading off to college he thought his parents would splurge for a private apartment. He remembered being so angry when the three of them arrived and he found out that they booked him on campus housing with another fucking kid. Furious. He didn’t talk to his parents for the first half of the semester. Not until they withheld his money and forced him to contact them.

This was intimacy.

He’d read that in a book. Dowd had recommended some to him. At first he’d scoffed about ‘self-help’ books, but Dowd convinced him that he’s the only person that could really help himself in the end. It didn’t help that Dowd had handed you the list and you’d bought all of them. You’d been reading them too. A quiet understanding that Ransom’s pride was still fragile and neither of you would talk about what you’d read, but just knowing that you’ve both read the same words. You’ve learned the same things.

Whether you put them into practice or not was another story.

But he knew this was intimacy.

It didn’t have to be romantic intimacy. There was a familiar soft intimacy. Just from knowing each other. Truth be told you were the longest relationship he’d ever had. Even if it was just a boss/employee… but sort of friend relationship. You knew him. You really knew him. More than even his own parents. You knew when he wanted to be touched and when he wanted to be left alone. You knew his routine and every variation of it. You knew what he liked to eat. You anticipated each and every one of his needs.

And he didn’t deserve it.

You were too good for him.

That was in all of his thoughts.

Every time you handed him a cup of coffee. Even a second cup when mentally he had been debating having a second. You’d bake cookies or brownies or these cinnamon buns just when his sweet tooth was really kicking in. You knew every craving. He swears you could even sense when he was getting sick. An extra order of tissues, ginger ale, and cough drops delivered to the house a day before he’d even started coughing.

He should treat you better.

That’s what he thinks while he fucks his fist in the shower. Hand slapped against the tile, soft groans as he thrusts his hips into his soaped up hand, thinking about how all he really wants to do is bend you over the sink.

He imagines it, your perfect ass, panties pulled to the side.

As he cums he can’t help but feel the emptiness he feels every night. The vacancy of emotion that leaves his mind void and desolate.

He writes three chapters that day.

“How do you feel about medication?” Dowd asks. The room is quiet. It’s been very quiet this session, Ransom wasn’t feeling very talkative lately.

“I’m not fucking crazy.” He scoffed. Dowd shook his head,

“No, but you’re depressed.” Dowd explained. “Medication will help with your moods, make you more level.” Ransom nodded, sighing heavily. “The guilt may never go away Hugh, you have to learn to live with it. You’ve taken responsibility for your actions.” Ransom rolled his eyes, partially.

“There’s more work to do.” The Doctor explained. “It’s not going to miraculously fix itself overnight, but medication will at least make it a little easier to go throughout your day. Might help you rely less heavily on drinking too.” He knew. Of course he knew. Ransom wondered if Dowd could smell the alcohol still in his sweat. Did he know Ransom popped four ibuprofen right before the session? Did he know that he washed it down by taking a pull of whiskey straight from the bottle?

You knew.

But did Dowd?

“I’m proud of you.” That caused Ransom to look up from his own lap to look at the old man sitting across from him. “You’ve come a long way since we first started.” Ransom shook his head.

“I feel worse.”

“Yeah, but you’ve made a breakthrough.” He explained, “The guilt, remorse, you’re feeling is a good thing. Even if you hate it.”

“It doesn’t feel like a good thing.” Ransom whispered. He picked at the sweats he was wearing.

“It’s not going to,” Dowd assured him, “Not for a while, but the fact that you even feel guilty means you’ve come a long way from being the self-centered narcissist you were when we met.” Ransom chuckled,

“I’m still a narcissist.”

The Doc started him on an antidepressant and a mood stabilizer. The two pills waited for him with his morning coffee from that day forward.

session #74

“You look like you’re having a good day.” Dowd smiled. Ransom was having a good day. He hadn’t drank a lot last night, had pretty descent sex with a pretty red head twice, you’d made him his favorite breakfast and had baked those really good caramel cookies he loved. You were in a good mood, so he was in a good mood.

His mind drifts back to you singing softly as you pulled the cookies from the oven, he was trying to be nonchalant standing off to the side, stealing a cookie as you set the baking sheet on top of the stove, ripping it open, molten caramel burning the tips of his fingers as he shoved the sweet morsel into his mouth. Tongue scorched but worth it.

The quiet hum as you rinse the bowl of cookie dough, his fingers finding your waist, pulling you against his chest as the soft rambling of music played in the background. The two of you rocked from side to side. The endorphins of skin to skin. The chemicals that flood his system giving him comfort.

He didn’t deserve it, but he wanted it.

He wanted it so badly.

So he just took it. Your soft hands covering his as some acoustic version of a pop song played over the wireless speaker in the kitchen. Cheek pressed to yours, ever aware of your ass nestled softly against his hips. Innocently. So innocently.

The light was soft through the windows and Ransom tried desperately to commit this to memory. The way it shines through your hair, the way it makes your skin glow. Your hands are so soft. So soft. He could almost taste it on his lips. Your skin.

“Thank you for the cookies baby.” A whisper. You allowed it, him calling you baby. A soft sweet pet name for someone he didn’t deserve.

“You’re welcome.” He had brought the plate of them in here, in the session.

“I’m doing alright,” He breathes, breaking another cookie open, letting the strings of caramel wrap around each other as he shoved half a cookie in his mouth. “The meds are finally working, so…” He shrugs, “I’m not feeling quite as down.” There were still bad days, but this wasn’t one of them.

“Can we talk about something hard today then?” The Doctor asked, “Is that okay?” Ransom was apprehensive. But… what could it hurt? Only himself. And he still deserved to be hurt so,

“Sure.” A sip of coffee and he settled back into his chair, resting his right ankle resting on his knee.

“I want to talk to you about your family.” He thought of Harlan with his throat slit and a Mother who contacts him once a month. The last time she called him it lasted, according to his phone records, two minutes and forty-four seconds. A ‘how are you?--good, good--is y/n taking care of you--good,good--gotta go. Bye-bye.’ She resented him and Ransom knew that. She’d told him once, drunk of chardonnay that she never wanted to be a Mother.

It shows.

His Father was just as dismissive.

He thinks about the money clip. One that he was gifted when he turned 18 was a match to his father’s. He waved it around plenty of times. Ransom thinks back to the first Christmas you’d spent with his family. The fear, tears in your eyes as you stood there dumbly holding his registration information for the police who didn’t care after he’d slipped them a couple of Benjamin's each and they were on their way. The wad he had handed you from his own money clip silently begging you not to leave him, hoping you’ll return after your long weekend.

Please don’t leave me.

He didn’t say that, but that’s what he meant.

“I don’t know how real people act.” He says, eyes not meeting the Doctor’s. “The whole family…” Harlan, Will, his parents. “None of them are real people,” Shaking his head.

“Is Y/N real?” Dowd asks. Ransom nods, looking down at the cookies. A whisper against his ear. Comfort.

“Yes.” He says. “She is.”

“Have you learned anything from her in the past… how long have you known each other now?”

“Close to three years now.” Ransom smiled softly, really smiled, “The first year she worked for my Grandfather as a tutor for my cousin, Meg. The past two she’s worked for me.” He thinks about your apartment. The one you lived in with your sister.

He’d only been there once.

It felt more like a home and he thinks about how you and your sister acted together. You truly loved one another. The little bickering laced with affection. No fight was ever a real one. Not even when you were yelling at her over the phone, defending him for no real reason. He never understood why someone would say a house is not always a home until he stepped into that apartment.

Yes, it smelled like the curry your neighbor was cooking and yes, it was for lack of a better word crowded. You would say it’s cozy. The furniture worn and much more comfortable than any he’d ever sat in. The way the two of you just steadily accepted him moodily sitting in the corner, in a chair, as their night went on. Even if your sister kind of hated him.

You were kind. You were forgiving. You were welcoming. And you’d taught your sister to be that way too. Even if she was a teenager and hated everyone and everything. To be fair he deserved to be hated and he was confused, but grateful that you didn’t hate him yourself. You said you did, but he knows you didn’t mean it. Not really.

You treated him like he mattered. You believed in him and supported him when he had the idea to write his novel. You picked him up off the ground when he was too drunk to walk. You gave him a shoulder to lean on when he needed a place to lay his head.

You were compassionate.

“I don’t deserve anything she does for me.” Ransom whispered into the quiet study. He shook his head, “She’s going to leave me as soon as the house arrest is over.” Dowd shook his head,

“You’ve done something that is irreversibly wrong.” He stated, “You can never take it back,” Ransom felt the guilt pooling into his stomach. A rain cloud over a sunny day, “The only thing you can do is try every day to do a little better. Put something good into the world. Create something good.”

“Be better.” The Doctor nodded.

“Be better.”

session #86

He was trying. Really trying. A stipend from his books goes to Fran’s family. A monthly donation to Planned Parenthood and another towards a local domestic violence nonprofit. It soothed his soul somewhat, but still didn’t feel like enough. He started looking at houses. For you.

You deserved it. When you left him. When you went back to your normal life. The normal routine. When he was left in his empty house, alone again. Like he wanted. Like he deserved. He was meeting a realtor for lunch tomorrow, but his hobby lately has been browsing house sites looking for a house for you.

Some were too big, some too small. Some too modern, some too old.

Nothing really fit you. Not really.

“Ransom,” You called from the living room, “Are you hungry?”

A few clicks and his computer screen was back on a word document. You poked your head into the study a minute later, a sandwich, cheese toasted on the bread, melted ham and swiss. A sliced apple and the sweet grapes you’d been craving that he had brought home yesterday and two little cinnamon sugar dusted cookies. A glass of water.

“Yeah,” He smiled. You placed the dish next to him, peering over his shoulder at the words typed on the page. “Thank you.” Always thank you, always please. Please love me, please care about me, please, please, I’m trying to be a good person. Please see that. A kiss to your wrist, arms wrapped around his shoulders, chin resting there.

“How’s it going?” You ask. He rubs the bare skin of your arm with his thumb, sighing,

“It’s getting there.” He typed a few more words, flipping through two different word documents. “I’m not sure which story I want to work on, I’m kind of stuck here.” He felt you nod, silently scanning the open page before you before laying a hand over his on the mouse and clicking over to the other one.

“You’re a little farther on this one I think.” It was a story about a situation similar to his own, yet very different. A woman in it that may or may not be referenced heavily by the woman beside him. By you. Who's to say? All likeness to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.

“Do you like this one?” He asked. You had to. Your opinion matters the most. Say the word and he’ll delete the whole thing right now. He felt pathetic. What kind of man was he? Definitely not his father, never his father.

“I do,” He could feel your grin, “You should finish this one next.” He didn’t know what to do with you. Half of him knew you would never love him, not the way he wanted you to. Those girls he buried himself in every night were proof of that. He started imagining they were you, lusty and breathless.

He could never do that to you. Ruin yourself with him. He just couldn’t.

“Thank you for lunch.” Another kiss to your wrist.

“You already said that,” You laughed, melodic. His heart skipped. “Don’t forget you have therapy later.” How could he?

“I won’t.” A bite into his sandwich and he was back looking at houses. Maybe he could find a fixer upper. Dowd said he needed a hobby, right?

“What’s on your mind today Hugh?” Dowd was in a good mood. Not that he wasn’t always in a good mood, but today he was in a very good mood. He showed up to the session and very unprofessionally showed you pictures of his newborn grandchild. A little rosy cheeked, baby girl named Ellie. Ransom admired how your eyes softened and lips pulled into a bright smile. He wished you would smile at him like that.

“I’m gonna buy a house.” Giddy almost. “Fix it up.” He nods, “My hobby right? Work with my hands.” Dowd looked at him skeptically.

“That’s a lot of work,” He laughed, “Have you ever lifted a hammer?” Ransom shrugged.

“Can’t be that hard.” It would be… very hard. But he’ll find that out later. “Lots of people do it, right?” Dowd gave a weird grin.

“Yeah but most of them have had some prior teaching or are professionals.�� Ransom’s mouth opened and then closed again, eyes squinting as he thought. Surely he could do it, right? He had to.

It was penance.

“I’ll figure something out.” Ransom took a sip of coffee, “I’ve been journalling a bit.” He said, pulling a leather moleskine from the seat cushion. He’s learning to deal with the guilt. The regret. He gets emails about how his contributions have been saving lives, women who need free healthcare, domestic violence victims that have been rehoused thanks to his donations. It doesn’t make it better, he reasons, the murder.

But it’s penance.

“Are you almost done?” Dowd asked, “With the second book?” The first book he’d published he had given Dowd a signed copy, he would willingly give him a signed copy of the second one too.

“Yeah, just about.” He sighed, “A few more chapters.” Dowd nodded.

“Do you want to talk about the self-loathing you’ve been feeling?” Dowd was perceptive. Ransom knew this, but the question still blindsided him. He wonders if you’ve mentioned anything to the Doctor while scrolling through the 200 pictures and cooing over the newborn in a hundred different outfits. Ransom knows you’ve seen it too. You’re perceptive too.

“Not really.” Ransom answered honestly. It made Dowd laugh, “I know you say I have to learn to live with it, I have to live with the guilt for murdering Fran, but I don’t know…” He stared at the Doctor, eyes betraying the sadness he felt in his soul. The despair. “How does anyone live like this? How does anyone live after they’ve murdered someone?” The last question was a whisper, eyes glazing over and staring at the floor.

He should have just gone to jail. He should have been in jail for the rest of his life, but he couldn’t. He didn’t. He’s not. He’s here. Double jeopardy. He could write a book right now on how he killed Fran, how he set up Marta, how he pushed his Grandfather to suicide and you know what would happen? Nothing.

You can’t be tried for a crime you were acquitted from. The jury found him not guilty. Only six people really knew the whole truth. The three detectives, Marta, himself, and you. The three detectives didn’t matter anymore.

Marta didn’t matter anymore.

He didn’t matter anymore.

You never brought it up. The murder. Not unless he brought it up first. It was a hard limit. A line not crossed. You had to forgive him. You just had to. Didn’t you already? Did you hate him? Were you secretly seething with the fact that you had that house arrest bracelet on? Were you really only here for the money?

He wouldn’t be able to take it, he doesn’t think.

Maybe he’ll become a recluse.

Everything is digital now, ordering groceries, maybe he’ll just get a maid to clean up once a week. You can go, take your money and leave him. It’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He will survive.

It’s his penance.

He watched you make dinner, Dowd’s words ringing in his ears, bouncing from one to the other, “You can’t hate yourself forever for this, nothing you can do will make it right, you’ve become a better person. An empathetic person, just be better. Every day, try and do better.” He thinks you’re beautiful.

You’d asked him what he wanted to eat and always was his reply of whatever he’d been craving that day, but tonight he said, “Whatever you feel like eating.” So he didn’t know, but it smelled amazing. He’d eat garbage if you put it in front of him. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Some kind of soup. A couple of heated rolls straight from the oven and a green salad, drizzled with a vinaigrette you’d seemed nervous about.

“I found it on Pinterest.” You had explained, “If you don’t like it--” It was delicious. Everything you made him was delicious. He didn’t care.

“It’s good.” He said. He meant it. He wondered now, with less than five months left of his sentence, how soon after it was over would you leave him? And would you never want to see him again? Because he doesn’t know if he could handle it. He needs you.

He really fucking needs you.

session #95

The girl came back. The one you had kicked out of his bed while he was gone. He told you he was at the gym, but what he was really doing was checking on the work done on the beautiful dark cherry wood Victorian with wrap around porch he’d recently purchased. He couldn’t fix it up on his own, that was the truth. Dowd was right, but he was working with a contractor and small crew.

One day a week he would go over there and help them rip out cabinets or tear down walls. Not too many because the house, he reasoned seemed more like something you would like if it wasn’t completely open concept.

He’d sat there, in the early morning light, watching the sun come through the windows. Dust filtered through the air from where they had sanded the floors, refinishing them. They’ll lay down the stain and seal them today. The windows caught the light perfectly. The sun rose and set over this house beautifully, glowing with natural light. You were going to love it.

He was sure of it.

A shout, stumbling in the gravel of the driveway, “FUCK YOU RANSOM.” A laugh drowned in his coffee.

“What’s on the agenda today Ransom,” He watched you shut the door, irritated with him, “Because if I have to do that again tomorrow I’ll quit.” Lies.

You couldn’t quit.

Not for another nine weeks.

“Don’t worry,” He said, “I’ve got a deadline to meet.” It’s true. He did. Four more chapters and the book was done. He coffee mug in your hand. An emptiness in his heart with the realization of you leaving. Nine weeks. And you’re gone.

He threw himself into it. He was going to finish it this week. The frustration he felt, he just wanted to be done with this book. He was over it, but he was so close to finishing. Doesn’t mean he’s not still a liar.

He needed a fucking break. His head was pounding and you’d come in the office in thin worn out black leggings. When you bent over to pick up the pillow that fell on the floor, he could see the thong you were wearing. His dick was hard.

A promise, “I’ll kick her out myself.” And he was gone.

The girl he brought home, she looked a bit like you. Enough like you when she rubbed her ass against his lap that he’d drug her home. Her lips were attached to his neck. He could imagine her as you. Faintly. Almost.

He felt passive aggressive. He was sort of taking out the anger of not being able to have you on you, not realizing, or not caring? His back met your bedroom door, the girl moaning enthusiastically as her lips trailed down his chest, button down splayed open. Belt clinking and his dick was in her mouth.

Fuck. Head hitting the door. He whispered your name in his head.

He wanted you so bad.

He wanted you so fucking bad.

He pulled the girl off him by her hair. He was going to cum too soon if he thought about it. He could do this.

As he lost himself in her body, bed rocking, hips swinging in a punishing rhythm, the girl’s loud moans drowned out the whisper of your name on his lips.

You were a sight. Sleepy, red marked paper in front of you. You’d found the chapter’s he’d finished just hours before. The ones he had forgotten to give to you. Your hair was messy and your cozy sweater had fallen from your shoulder. He wanted to press a kiss to the exposed skin, but obviously he couldn’t.

“What do you think?” He asked. He watched you jump in your seat, hand pressed quickly to your chest.

“You scared the shit out of me.” You laughed nervously, “It’s good,” You cleared your throat, “I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for you to finish to be honest.”

“Let me see.” The packet was scribbled over.

I think he did it, he’s an asshole.

I don’t like her either.

Ew, why would anyone ever say that to anyone else?

Add more detail here, I can’t picture it well enough.

“What are you doing out of bed?” You asked, you rolled the chair side to side. It was cute. Endearing.

“I told you I was going to kick her out.” She wasn’t happy about it. She tried to get him to go another round, but he felt empty. He didn’t want to. You were waiting downstairs after all.

“And you couldn’t start doing this sooner?” He smiled, he liked that you hated it. It maybe made him think you could be jealous. In some universe. Maybe not this one.

“I like how much it bothers you,” He answers honestly.

“It’s annoying,” you snarked back quickly, “Worst way to start my day.” You were being funny.

“That’s the only reason?” Ransom responds, he leant back in his chair, throwing the packet onto the desk. Please say you want to be with me. Give me permission here.

“You’re such an asshole, you know that?” You scoffed, angry with him. Clearly. You made to walk by him, to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed your arm to stop you, softly.

“If you want to take their place, just let me know.” A wink, a playful slap on his shoulder and you were gone.

“Dick.” Reverberated in the office. A playful laugh.

Therapy today.

He hadn’t slept a whole lot, four hours total. He was tired. And grumpy.

“She loves you, you know that right?” Dowd said halfway through the session. Ransom was deep in his self-loathing today. Probably from the lack of sleep.

Definitely not because each day got closer and closer to you leaving him. Definitely not that.

He shook his head, “She works for me, she gets paid to be nice to me.” Dowd frowned.

“You can’t really believe that Hugh.” Ransom shook his head,

“I don’t deserve her.”

“Men don’t deserve women,” Dowd said, “Period.” He laughs, straightening his tie. “My wife, we’ve been married for thirty years now and I can’t honestly remember life without her in it. She worked to help me get through school and now with my practice I’ve been able to let her do whatever heart desires.” He was smiling fondly, thinking about it. “She’s given me three beautiful daughters, we have a beautiful granddaughter now. A beautiful home, she can’t cook to save her life, but that’s what I’m for… she’s the love of my life, truly.” Ransom looked at the grey old man across from him, the Doctor’s eyes were misty. “She helps me run my practice.” He says, “I would be lost without her and I will work hard to even be close to the man she deserves.”

“It’s just not meant for me Doc.” Ransom swallowed heavily. “It’s not.”

He needed to get out of this fucking house. He couldn’t look at you. He got rid of Dowd. A little harshly. He felt bad about it. You looked up at him from the couch.

“I’m going out.”

Was this love? Yes. He knew he loved you. He’s no a fucking idiot. But you were too good for him. Who forgives a murderer? Who? Why did you have to be like that? So fucking perfect.

You were. So fucking perfect. This house he was fixing for you, the car he was going to buy you after the next book. You deserved all of it.

You and your sister will be taken care of. You’ll never want for anything. You were talking about going back to school maybe, once it’s over. You could do that. He’d do anything for you if you’d ask. He’d pay for all of it. Anything. It’s yours.

How does he resolve this? He doesn’t know.

The donuts, the latte, and his mouth between your thighs a day later. He doesn’t know how to be a good man, but he’s going to fucking try, and try until he gets it right. Until he makes everything right. For the both of you.

“I think you’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” You’re so receptive beneath him. He loves you so much. The only person he’s ever felt this intense affection for. Not even his own parents he’s loved.

He buries himself between your thighs twice that morning. Panting into your mouth the first time, into your neck the second as he rocks his hips into your tight wet heat from behind. Ass nestled against his hips how he’s always dreamed, teeth biting into his thumb as the two of you lay on your sides.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispered against your neck. His heart racing from his recent orgasm. “I’m sorry.”

session #104

This was it. The last day. Ransom noticed your ankle looked pale, empty now that the bracelet was gone. He would have to fix that. “What am I gonna do now that the dumb bracelet isn’t taking out my ankle anymore?” He whispered into your ear. The damn think had knocked against his ankle bone multiple times in sleep or during sex, enough to make him wince and comment on it multiple times.

Your laugh was melodic to his ears. It was just the two of you now. His Mother stopped by with the same man who had placed the damn ankle monitor on you two years prior to remove it. She made a big show about staying for breakfast.

“So I’m assuming she’ll be moved out by dinner,” She had laughed, “She’s probably sick of you.” Ransom felt a little hurt by that, but his Mother also didn’t know the two of you were now together and ‘moved out by dinner’ was actually going to be him taking you and your sister to dinner and then to your new house that was just finished this morning.

The two of you shared a look and agreed not to say anything.

He dried the dishes as you washed. This oddly domestic moment giving him true belief that maybe this could work. He could have it. He could have what other people have and be okay.

“I love you too.” You’d whispered into his mouth last night. You hadn’t said it back yet, it was the first time. Hands tangled in his hair as you angled his face down. “Please don’t hurt me.” He could never, would never. Not if he could help it.

He brushed his hip against yours as the soft crooning melody played in the background. After the therapy session today the two of you were going to go pick your sister up early from school and drive down to the harbor. He wanted to take you both to dinner. Somewhere you’d wanted to eat for the past two years. A little hole in the wall Spanish place that had ‘the best ceviche and sopas you’ll ever have’ you’ve been talking about it for two weeks now.

Things had changed a lot in the past nine weeks. And not just because the two of you began to have sex on a regular basis. The house seemed more calm. There was an ease now, a tension that had left Ransom’s shoulders. You seemed more at ease too from what he could tell. You’d begun showering him with more affection, sweet lingering kisses down his spine before you left the bed, a press of your lips to his as you enter or exit a room. Thumb releasing the tension in his brow when he was too focused on writing, a kiss wishing it away.

The two of you fell into step as though this was a two year anniversary instead of a two month.

It was nice.

It was very nice.

“It’s good to see you happy.” Dowd said. “I’m very proud of you. You’ve come a long way in the last two years.” Ransom nodded. He felt proud. He did. The guilt still gnawed at him sometimes. But he’d received a letter about a week ago.

Fran’s Mother.

Forgiveness is a tricky thing. And while the two of them would never meet, and probably never speak again. Fran’s Mother believed that God was telling her to forgive him. She thanked him for the royalty checks she’d been receiving in the mail. It helped with her husband’s increasing medical bills. But she will never have her little girl back.

And it was his fault. But she forgave him. Just how he was learning to forgive his parents.

Forgive himself. That was the hard one. He’ll be working on that maybe until the day he dies he thinks. Maybe.

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Ransom explains. Dowd smiled softly,

“And she’s not going to leave.”

“Yeah,” Ransom agreed, “She’s not going to leave.” Well she is, but not completely. He was an adult. He could start taking care of himself, but she was still going to technically be his assistant.

“This is our last session together and before it ends is there anything you’d like to say?” Dowd asked him. The old man had taken on a new light for him over the last two years, Ransom really liked the guy. There was no doubt he helped him a lot, but it was more than that. Dowd was a good man. It was admirable. Ransom had never met a good man in his entire life.

Dowd loved his family, his wife, he loved his job. He was a good guy and if it wasn’t wildly inappropriate Ransom would have loved to take him golfing. Maybe invite his family over for dinner. Maybe one day. Maybe once the Doctor retires.

“I don’t think it should be our last session.” Dowd smiled at that.

“That’s exactly how you know you’ve improved.” The man assured, “Cause you’re nowhere near done.” Ransom should have taken offense to that, but he knew. He was still a work in progress. He still needed help, just maybe not as much as before.

Dowd parted with a cookie tin full of those caramel cookies Ransom loved so much, but he was too excited to care. You were ready to go. You wanted to see your sister more than anything else and he was happy to take you there.

He smirked as you ran into your sister’s arms. The fourteen year old was taller than you now, her face dotted with acne. She glared at Ransom over your shoulder.

He deserves it. Honestly.

Dinner was no better. The teen ignoring him completely as he sat awkwardly in the smallest restaurant he’d even been in. You’d spoke practiced spanish to the server and older woman he’d also seen flipping tortillas on the flat top in the back. You’d placed a paper plate with radishes, limes, and a mix of spicy peppers, onions, and cactus in front of the three of you.

A mess of plates were served. This little hole in the wall served the best tacos he’d ever had. Acidic ceviche that he’d eaten scooped into chips, the second order he ate with a spoon straight from the bowl. He didn’t interrupt the two of you and your jovial conversation.

Julia gossiped about a girl at school who was apparently a total bitch and everyone hates her, but she had secretly been dating another girl they went to school with and was now being super nice because she wasn’t closeted anymore.

There was another story about a teacher who had recently lost a child that your sister and her club had been trying to get money together to help pay for the funeral, “How much do you need?” Ransom interrupted.

Julia looked at him with wide eyes, almost forgetting he was there for a moment. “Uh… like we’ve raised almost $2,000 but we were trying to get a full ten.” Ransom nodded, squeezing a lime over his taco.

“Remind me to write you a check before I drop you back off.” He felt your eyes on him, a soft smile. You weren’t going to spring the relationship on your sister quite yet. Not when she still wanted to strangle him.

“That- You’re going to give me $8,000?” Julia asked incredulously. Ransom nodded, chewing and swallowing.

“It’s hard to lose a child.” He offered, “It’s hard for everyone.”

“Especially the parents.” Julia bit. He deserved that. He nods.

“Especially the parents.”

He was nervous. What if you didn’t like it? He’d sell it he’d suppose. But you had to like it. He broke into your tablet one night and sent screenshots of your Pinterest saves to an interior designer. It should be what you want, how you wanted it.

“Where are we going?” You asked. You had sat in the back with your sister. The two of you holding hands and talking about how homecoming went and how there was a junior guy in band who had asked her to the prom.

“We’re almost there.” He pulled into a paved driveway, turning the corner he tapped a few times on his phone the dark house lighting up before him. He heard two collective gasps from the backseat.

“Ransom, what is this?” You were confused, obviously. He exited the car, the two of you following.

He stepped up on the porch, not answering. His heart racing in his chest. He dug out the small key chain that had been weighing heavily in his pocket, turning to the two of you and hanging it from a finger. “I know you hate expensive gifts, but I can’t let you go back to that apartment.” His mouth was dry.

“Ransom.” You breathed. The keys were snatched from his finger, Julia moved past him to unlock the door, rushing inside.

“Oh my God!” She squealed from inside. Ransom shrugged softly, hand still outstretched towards yours.

“Please take it.” He whispered. A few seconds ticked by as he watched you decide. Please take it.

“Y/N,” Julia called, “This house is incredible.” She was panting in the doorway, shoes already discarded. He watched you look past him to her, the smile on her face. And you took his hand.

You’d been dating for a while when Ransom suggested couples therapy. Pretty much as soon as you’d moved in together. It was a nice break. Six months not seeing each other every minute of every day. He picked you up on real dates. You’d gone to real movies. You’d taken real walks in a real park. You had after dinner drinks at a real bar. One which you’d remembered he had ignored you in what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Julia had just gone to bed. She had a soccer game in the morning. He’d suggested it while you were getting ready for bed. A box of his clothes sat still packed in the corner. The last box. One you hadn’t quite gotten to yet.

“There’s nothing wrong,” He defended. “I just think that it would keep us in a healthy relationship.” And you agreed. He was happy you agreed. He didn’t want you to think that he felt as though there were problems. Other than him leaving his dirty socks and coffee mugs around the two of you hadn’t had much of a disagreement.

Yet.

Dowd was kind enough to still make house calls, something Ransom was fortunate for. He was working hard getting his next novel out. Deadline coming on quick as the two of you sat in a session where the Doctor looked at you and said,

“He’s treated you fairly poorly over the last two years.” Ransom felt offended. Dowd was supposed to be on his side, but he came out the gate swinging. It didn’t stop it being true.

You opened and closed your mouth. “I wouldn’t say…” You rubbed your hands down your thighs, drying the sweat on your palms.

“It’s not okay.” Dowd responded. “We both know him, we know how far he’s come.” He gestured to Ransom and Ransom nodded.

“He’s right baby.” A hand on your thigh in a way Ransom hoped was comforting. “The way I treated you is not okay. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions.” You sat awkwardly. Ransom wondered if you were beginning to regret this.

“But Ransom, honey, I just--” You looked so nervous, sinking down into the couch, your eyes fixed on Dowd. “You’ve changed so much, and you’ve never really been…” You gestured with your hands. “You’re a victim of circumstance.” You began, “I don’t believe that if you’d had loving parents you would have ever been in the situation you were in… not that you know, nature versus nurture and I just think, I don’t know, maybe... “

“It’s okay.” Dowd put a hand out. “Listen, this is a lot to start with and it’s okay. We don’t have to get too far into it. The next session I would like to have both of you write a letter to each other, something about how the last two years have affected your life. I think that’s where we should start.”

Intermingling breaths and hips pushed into the kitchen table, loud moans echoing in the kitchen as Ransom sinks himself into you over and over. “So fucking hot baby.” He breathes. “So fucking hot,” He hitched your leg up onto the table, enabling him to go deeper. “You’ll do anything for me, wont you?” He asked. His snapping hard against your perfect ass, hands roughly gripping the globes, tinted red by the palm of his hand.

“Yes,” You moaned roughly, “Anything.” Ransom moaned, reaching a hand down to steadily rub your clit, so wet for him. Only him.

“I love you so fucking much.” He moaned, hips beginning to falter as you came around him. Pussy contracting, milking his cock as he released inside the condom, panting.

“I love you too.” You whispered heavily into the room. Both of you trying to catch your breath.

“Thank you for doing this for me.” His fingers tracing softly down your bare spine. “I know it makes you uncomfortable.” He watched as you pulled your discarded shirt back on, shifting your leggings back up your hips as he discarded his condom, pulling his sweats back up over his own.

“I think it’ll be good for us,” You said, “In the long run.” He nods in agreement.

“I would hate for us to turn out like my parents.” He whispered.

“We’re not ever going to be like your parents.” You assured him, gripping his hand softly.

“I don’t want you to resent me in twenty years.” He looked into your eyes, searching as you replied,

“You think we’ll be together in twenty years?” You asked. He rolled his eyes as you let a watery laugh part your lips. He pressed his lips tightly against yours, fingers tangled in your hair.

“I sure as hell hope so.”

The sessions continued. One a month. Each month.

The two of you worked together to make this relationship work. You tried hard. You grew and you grew together.

“I think we’d be pretty good parents.” He said once. A few weeks before the marriage proposal. It got the both of you hot for it. The idea. Not something you’d been planning on acting on anytime soon but when he was balls deep inside your tight wet pussy he couldn’t help but imagine you swelling with his child, breasts heavy, firm belly pressing against him as he thrust inside you.

He was hot for it, always.

And you were thinking of it too. You’d spin your engagement ring around your finger and stare at him wistfully, tongue coming out to wet your lower lip.

You were riding him. Hips circling on top of his, panting and moaning. Your body glistening with sweat. Hands curled in your hair, back arched. “You gonna give me a baby?” You asked. He nodded, panting, he wanted to thrust into you but he couldn’t help but love the way you looked right now. Chasing your own release. Selfish. Wanting.

He fucking loved it.

You held his wrists to the bed, using your knees to rock back and forth on top of him as you pressed your lips to his. A whisper against his lips. “You gonna cum inside me?” You moaned.

“Yes, baby.” He braced his feet against the bed grinding his hips against yours, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone until you were shuddering on top of him, moaning into his mouth with your release. You collapse against his chest, his arms coming to wrap around your waist, his braced feet giving him the leverage he needed to fuck you. His hips starting a punishing rhythm. The loud slap of his thighs meeting yours filling the room.

“I can’t wait.” He breathes, “I love you so fucking much.” Your choked moans did him in, his release spilling inside you, not willing to let you go quite yet as the two of you stilled. The sweat covering your bodies began to chill you.

“I love you too.”

The wedding was small. Springtime. For months after the proposal and very quiet. Neither of you had very much family and fewer friends. A small group in your backyard. A cake from your favorite bakery. Promises of a bright future and a new life. Here, together.

You’d feel the flutter in your belly a few months after that.

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#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans #knives out

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fonulyn · 3 years

Text

fonulyn’s 2020 in fics

this is kind of exciting since in 2020 I did get a lot writing done, and it marks the second year in a row that I’m able to actually make one of these posts after that horrible not good at all terrible disastrous three and a half years when I wrote absolutely nothing. so it’s a triumph to get another one of these up! personal victory haha.

in total, in 2020 I wrote 148 fics, ranging from like 200 words to 34k (idk if those short things can be called fics but i just did). by pairing, there’s

13 of Joe/Nicky

58 of Piers/Leon

56 of Chris/Leon

(1 with Piers/Leon and Chris/Leon)

5 of the ot3 (Chris/Leon/Piers)

11 of Krauser/Leon

3 of Wesker/Chris (lmao still can’t believe this)

1 of Chris/Leon/Krauser

so. in retrospect, i did okay.

it’s over 300 thousand words and I am kind of. surprised. and that is not counting the approximately 50k of wips i’m ignoring :’D

I’d also like to take a second to thank everyone who has ever sent me nice messages, commented on the fics, left reblogs or kudos, and the like. you’re what kept me going, I wouldn’t have gotten even half as much done otherwise.

without further ado, links to all of the fics under the cut! they’re organized by pairing, and the links take you to tumblr posts (bc I’m lazy) and a lot of them have a link in the post that takes you to ao3. (also can you see I put ~~so much~~ effort into naming the tumblr ficlets :’D feel free to laugh at me)

Joe/Nicky

a dog by any other name | 1,5k | The one wherein they end up owning a dog.

within the heart a flame of desires | 5,0k | Nicolo watches Yusuf have sex with others, desperately wishing he was with him instead. Until things change. He much prefers having Yusuf all for himself.

the world will wait | 2,4k | The one wherein Joe takes a lot of naps and the whole team gets to relax.

catch this | 650w | Every time Joe gets distracted (by Nicky), Andy tries to take him by surprise.

nobody’s perfect | 1,9k | Even immortal warriors have their weaknesses, Nile learns. Those just aren’t what she expected.

only in these arms | 780w | Nicky has trouble sleeping alone. Andy is a decent substitute, but only when Joe returns so does Nicky’s ability to get a decent night’s rest.

(please don’t explain) that time in Malta | 580w | Nile doesn’t think at first it would even be possible for Joe to be embarrassed. By anything. Until one evening, they talk about Malta.

cool it down boys | 400w | Andy gets no sleep. She gets revenge, though.

cowboy, baby | 340w | Nicky has the fashion sense of a sack of flour, and he is fine with that.

that day is not today | 4,9k | They struggle through the whole lab-experience. It isn’t the time yet to forgive Booker.

tea, soup and tlc | 2k | The one wherein Joe is not sick. At all. Nope. He isn't.

two drinks too many | 770w | Nicky is a little drunk. Joe loves him anyway.

safe haven | 3,9k | The one wherein everyone gets quality cuddles from Joe.

Piers/Leon

it was you that I found | 23,4k | Leon doesn’t really do relationships. Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he always seems to be so bad at them. Of course entirely by accident he manages to build one without even realizing it.

unexpected visitor | 690w | Piers is forced on bed-rest. At least Leon stops by.

got me all tied up (never let me go) | 4,0k | Piers doesn’t like suits. Leon loves Piers in a suit.

not so subtle | 210w | “Soo, were you checking me out all night, or was that just my imagination?” Leon asks suddenly, Piers chokes on his drink in surprise.

nighttime fools | 4,8k | Piers and Leon get arrested for public indecency. It’s not their fault, honest.

piers isn’t sick, really, he isn’t (he is) | 670w | “Oh, hi,” Piers said immediately, a goofy smile slipping onto his face. Man, he was happy to see Leon. So happy to see him.

so you’ve met Xena | 620w | “Xena?” Leon turned to look at Piers, decidedly unimpressed. “You named your dog after the Warrior Princess?“

you’re cute, you know | 680w | Piers took the opportunity the second their gazes met. He grinned, as charmingly as he possibly managed, and said “You’re cute, you know that?“

kiss the nightmares away | 470w | Sleepily Piers blinked, trying to make his eyes work properly. He squinted at the digital clock on the bedside, and its harsh red numbers that told him it was 3:30, and confusedly he turned to frown at Leon. “Why aren’t you sleeping?“

smooth talking, Nivans, very smooth | 1,4k | Piers can not control what comes out of his mouth.

dream a little (dirty) dream of me | 1,3k | Piers wakes Leon up. That's it.

your shirt is my shirt | 950w | With a sigh Piers grabbed the only shirt available that wasn’t battery operated and obnoxious. It was Leon’s, so old that the print had faded completely, leaving only faint outlines behind. And when Piers pulled it on he grumbled again, realizing how tight it was.

here for you | 620w | Leon can’t sleep, but somehow Piers makes his anxieties bleed away.

grand plans | 260w | “Are you seriously going to wear that?”

new puppy | 430w | “Hey there little guy.” Leon bent down to pick up the little puppy, straightening again to hold it against his chest. His hands looked almost comically large as the dog was so tiny, and carefully he cradled it close.

a little bit funny | 850w | So maybe Piers hadn’t slept properly in days, and the sleep deprivation was making him a little hysterical, but he didn’t even remember when a stupid comedy would’ve made him laugh so much.

for now our time is here | 4,4k | When Chris had told them to wait up and left them alone for a while, this probably wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but the second he’d closed the door behind himself the tension that had been brewing between Leon and Piers had snapped like a cord.

wanting too much | 1,1k | “Fucking hell, never do that to me again,“ Leon huffed out, clearly relieved beyond anything.

the prettiest agent with the prettiest hair | 1,2k | Piers stress-braids. Leon doesn't mind. And besides, Piers always undoes the braids whenever he's done with them. Until one night he forgets.

you can be the air that i breathe | 1,0k | It wasn’t the first time Piers got punched in the face by a gigantic BOW so hard that the hit sent him flying. It was, however, the first time he was sent careening off a bridge and into the river below. And it was, definitely, the first time Leon saved his life.

before I found you | 890w | The second Piers realized that the spikes covering the monster actually came off, and it was able to shoot them towards its attackers, it was already too late for him to react.

you don’t need to stay | 950w | Piers did his best to take care of Leon. And as much as Leon appreciated it, he didn’t want to be a goddamn nuisance.

need me, baby, just a little stronger tonight | 2,1k | Leon really has to practice perfecting his poker face. At least he gets what he wants in the end.

be my valentine | 920w | “Are you sure?“ Piers asked for the tenth time, frowning down at the bar of Fazer blue chocolate. “I still think it’s… not a lot?”

you're the world that I wanna discover | 7,5k | The one wherein they buy a house, fall even more in love, and Leon reaches a breaking point.

call me (tell me what you feel) | 1,7k | Leon is stuck at the airport. At least he gets a nice phone call with Piers.

incentive to stay alive | 1,0k | "Hey, Nivans, wake up,” he tried, but there was no answer, and he couldn’t help but let the worry in his voice. “Piers. Don’t you dare die on me. Chris would kill me if I let anything happen to his best sniper.”

blanket hog Leon | 880w | Grumbling, Piers turned around, and as he’d expected Leon was cozily wrapped in at least four blankets, leaving nothing for Piers, who was currently freezing his ass off.

I give you all I am | 2,0k | “Leon?” Piers approached in quick steps, watching recognition flicker in Leon’s eyes as he lowered his own weapon too. Leon was slumped against the wall, hunched over and holding his side, and there was something feverish about his eyes. Yet as soon as he realized it was Piers he gave a shaky grin, even if that was all he managed.

why are the gorgeous ones always taken | 810w | Piers blinked his eyes open slowly, expression scrunched up, and it took a long moment before he managed to actually focus his gaze on Leon’s face. When he did, a smile immediately bloomed on his face, and he even tilted his head a little. “Have I died and gone to heaven?” he croaked out, his voice rough from lack of use.

still intact | 1,1k | It took a week before the level of painkillers was correct and Piers woke up with a gasp instead of a scream. And the first thing he asked was for someone to kill him.

of guns and ...guns | 270w | Leon likes the way Piers handles his rifle. There’s drool involved.

always fashionable | 540w | Apparently having a crush on the well-dressed, professional Leon translated into being absolutely fucking in love with the sleep-mussed and squinty Leon.

misplaced phones and revelations | 660w | Chris finds Piers’ phone. Which turns out to be Leon’s phone. The two turn out to be dating. Chris feels kind of blind.

yee-haw! | 1,0k | Leon rides Piers. Wearing a cowboy hat.

you’re cute when you’re angry | 620w | When he’s stressed, Piers washes the dishes. Angrily.

want to drink (with) you | 1,1k | Piers is an embarrassing drunk. Leon loves him anyway.

and each one of us is a path somewhere | 22,2k | Piers gets thrown twenty years back in time. Into Raccoon City, 1998. He’d heard about what Leon went through that night, but he never thought he’d have to actually experience it himself. Together with bright eyed rookie Leon.

hold me close | 560w | Leon falls asleep against Piers’ shoulder.

goatee man | 890w | Piers thinks growing a beard might make him look more manly.

promises kept | 2,9k | Leon finds out Piers isn't dead after all. He's just locked up in a BSAA research facility with no one allowed in to visit.

stay with me tonight (stay until the end of life) | 2,2k | Leon doesn’t know I’m contacting you, but a fair warning, because I’m worried. He was found unconscious on the bathroom floor at 10AM. They took him to the hospital, but he checked himself out. Look after him, okay?

4am | 760w | “What can I say,” Piers grinned against Leon’s neck, “I was dreaming of you.” He had no reservations about moving his hips, letting Leon feel just how nice the dream had been.

caffeinated | 550w | Someone gives Piers coffee. Leon knows what to do with that excess energy.

and i'm you and you're me | 7,0k | The one wherein Leon and Piers accidentally swap bodies.

girls’ day in bed | 780w | Piers and Leon wake up one morning with boobs and other assorted lady parts. It’s a fun day. (Spoiler alert: they have a lot of sex.)

worlds apart | 3,2k | Krauser kidnaps Piers to lure Leon to him. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

not again | 530w | Watching Piers’ mutation brings Leon some very unfortunate flashbacks. (feat. past Krauser/Leon)

gorgeous | 300w | Piers calls Leon gorgeous.

the most comfortable pillow | 350w | Leon falls asleep with his head on Piers’ lap.

beautiful | 840w | Even after losing an arm and ruining half of his face, Piers is the most beautiful thing to Leon.

as seen in adult films | 580w | Piers doesn’t know one damn thing about dishwashers. He volunteers to fix one anyway.

never letting go | 260w | Leon is goddamn comfortable right here. He isn’t going to move a single inch.

nose kisses | 390w | Piers is cute when he’s cranky. Just ask Leon.

no other half could ever make me whole | 6,3k | The one wherein they get a scare and there's a proposal.

the luxury of being held | 690w | The fabric of Piers’ hoodie is the perfect place to hide. (feat. Theo’s amazing art)

just one step from heaven, one step from paradise | 2,7k | The one wherein Piers makes sure Leon doesn’t freeze, and they enjoy their vacation.

all is fair in war, love and Mario Kart | 600w | Piers sucks at Mario Kart.

Chris/Leon

if i never see all my dreams come true, the one that mattered the most was you | 5,9k | Chris enlists Leon’s help on a mission as a clever ruse to make the man take a break he so obviously needs.

and I don't want to know how slow the time must flow | 11,1k | Chris and Leon try to fight their way out of a castle and feelings take over.

you are my heart, you are my home | 3,2k | Chris is sick, and he’s being extra dramatic about it.

from the gates of longing | 5,5k | Chris volunteers to take Leon home, but ends up getting a lot more than he bargained for.

how to accidentally get adopted - a guide by Piers Nivans | 2,3k | Piers accidentally keeps calling Chris dad, and Chris and Leon sort of unofficially adopt him.

right here by your side | 1,9k | When Chris shows up to check up on Leon, four days into his self-imposed flu-exile, at first Leon wants to just throw him out. But then it turns into a relationship-building moment and suddenly he can’t mind all that much.

about time | 1,8k | Leon is freezing. Chris warms him up.

yet you'll lose yourself in me | 3,3k | The one wherein Chris is generously proportioned and Leon kind of loves it. (whispers: size kink)

beyond tomorrow | 1,7k | Leon ends up in the hospital after a mission, Chris hurries to see if he’s okay. Claire is already there.

look at those heart-eyes | 180w | Quickly Chris shook his head, reluctantly pulling his attention away from Leon.

there’s a cat in the sink | 220w | “There’s a cat in the sink, and we don’t own a cat.”

from the future | 300w | It’s 1998 and Leon comes face to face with himself, from 2017.

surprise redfield | 250w | “Don’t worry,“ Chris says, nonchalantly as if it’s an everyday occurrence that he’s standing in Leon’s kitchen.

need this feeling to last (there's no denying) | 2,4k | “Why don’t you fuck me yourself, you coward!“

something solid, something good | 520w | Chris was so warm, and that together with all the glorious skin-on-skin contact made Leon happily sink back into the embrace.

come closer | 520w | Leon is done with Chris being so careful around him.

your arms around me | 690w | Chris woke up cold and alone.

a needed break | 440w | Sometimes Chris got so single-mindedly stuck on a task that he forgot everything around himself.

the iron maiden | 820w | Suddenly it was hard to breathe, like he couldn’t fill his lungs with oxygen no matter how much he tried, to the point that his vision started to get blurry.

robin hood: chris in tights | 480w | Chris’ face was twisted into a theatrical grimace as he tugged a little on the green tights we was wearing. They were like painted on and although he didn’t really have body issues in general, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about it.

luckless romance | 4,0k | Leon and Chris turn a drunken argument into something better. (Please note: The link takes you to the last part of six.)

take my hand | 920w | The worst part, by far, is not seeing anything. There are sounds, people talking like he isn’t even in the room, machines beeping and doors opening, quick busy steps against the floor.

let me take you to the edge of the stars and back again | 3,0k | Chris takes his sweet, sweet time before he gives Leon what he wants.

I’m going to seduce you | 1,1k | Jesus Christ, they’d had sex. Leon groaned again, this time less because of the headache and more because he felt so unbearably dumb. He’d probably had the best sex of his life, and he couldn’t remember it.

a little help | 430w | Those fucking idiots, Claire thought for the millionth time, as she watched her brother give the biggest dumbest heart eyes at Leon, who was blissfully oblivious about everything going on around him.

the way to anyone’s heart (the answer is food, good food) | 2,4k | Chris asks Leon to teach him how to cook. (Spoiler: Leon doesn't know how.)

oh the horror | 270w | “I seriously don’t understand why you want to watch this shit,” Leon groaned, pressing his face into Chris’ chest.

jealousy | 670w | Chris swallowed hard, downed the last of his beer, and took the leap. “I’m jealous okay.”

twist me up | 510w | Sure Chris had always known that Leon was flexible. Sure he had seen him even do these weird-ass yoga poses more than once. There was nothing new to it.

meet the parents | 600w | Leon brings Chris home for Christmas.

precious cargo | 930w | Chris lugs Leon around like luggage.

it's always been you | 870w | The hardest thing for Leon was when someone he cared about was in danger but there was nothing he could do about it. And then Chris fell into a ravine.

come away with me (to another world) | 2,0k | Leon finally gets a vacation.

first time sucker | 930w | “I don’t know, because it’s fun?” Leon said. “I promise you, you’re missing out.”

read my scars | 1,9k | Chris learns about Leon's scars.

battered and bruised | 650w | Ignoring the bruises and scrapes he had, Chris turned around and sprinted towards Leon, gritting his teeth against the strain moving put on his side.

a different kind of proposal | 500w | “If you keep fucking me this good,“ he breathed out, unsure if Chris even heard the words, “I’ll have to marry you.“

welcome home | 370w | The door had barely fallen shut behind Chris when Leon was in his personal space, grabbing him by the lapels of the trench coat he was wearing so he could pull him in close for a kiss.

I’d always choose you | 280w | Ada was something they didn’t talk about. When someone, anyone, brought her up Leon clammed up and changed the subject. And Chris had tried to be understanding, had tried to be patient, had tried his very best to respect Leon’s boundaries with this. But Chris was only human.

fuck or die | 1,7k | Chris gets hit by a weird plant, and his hard-on just will not go down. Until Leon takes matters into his hands.

i need a hug | 470w | “I think,“ Leon sighed, but then it was like all fight bled from him and he slumped a little forward. “I need a hug.“

oh no there’s only one bed | 990w | “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just one night. I’m sure you’ve slept with worse persons than me.”

the butt that became a pillow | 420w | Chris falls asleep on Leon.

like father like son | 2,8k | Leon finds out he has a son.

monster magnet | 1,1k | Leon didn’t know when it had become something he recognized so easily. When had it become so normal for mutated creatures to look at him with such unadulterated lust.

please be okay | 620w | Leon faints from sheer exhaustion.

like father like... grandson? | 4,1k | Liam proposes to a girl but ends up with Piers anyway. Chris and Leon are the friendly neighborhood grandpas. Their grandson is adorable, and Leon thinks he takes after him. Obviously. (feat. Piers/OMC)

black lace | 790w | Chris gets to come home to Leon in thigh high black lacy stockings and matching lingerie, instantly sending Chris’ brains into an overdrive.

at least let me help | 790w | Leon opens the door an inch, Chris uses the given opportunity to slam it wide open. Metaphorically speaking.

bridal style | 200w | Leon refuses the medical check up. So Chris carries him.

dance with me | 1,0k | Wedding planning with two schmoopy idiots in love.

drunken cravings | 480w | Chris and Leon are drunk, hungry, and incapable of cooking.

blow me | 650w | Chris gets his brains sucked out through his dick.

Claire knows best | 610w | Chris tries to set Leon up with Claire. Then Claire does set Leon up with Chris.

chase the demons away | 940w | Chris struggles with nightmares, Leon is there to hold him through them.

dance me to the end of love | 550w | Leon struggles to learn to dance.

Piers/Leon, Chris/Leon

fate changed (we keep loving as if the story isn't over yet) | 34,3k | In hindsight, Leon knew the second he opened the door and saw Chris standing there, dressed in his service uniform, mouth pinched to a grim line and unable to meet Leon’s gaze straight. There was only one logical reason for it, only one way to explain why he was standing there like he would rather be anywhere else, and Leon almost slammed the door right in his face. -- Or the one wherein no one really knows how to handle their grief, but somehow life goes on anyway. (I’m still so proud of this one negl)

Chris/Leon/Krauser

hearts beating fast (let's make this moment last) | 5,7k | Chris gets invited in for a threesome. The clever thing would’ve been to refuse, knowing his unrequited, helpless feelings. But then again, he’s just a man.

OT3

double the fun | 3,1k | Truthfully, Leon hadn’t thought his day could get this much better. Everything had gone wrong from the second he’d woken up and he’d already written the day off entirely, until the moment Chris had looked him dead in the eye and asked “How do you feel about two at once?”

of cuddles and blanket forts | 620w | Piers and Leon build a blanket fort. Chris would think they’re idiots, but they might actually be kind of brilliant.

hair straightener or waffle iron? | 310w | Chris and Piers break Leon’s hair straightener.

the last piece of the puzzle | 2,7k | The one wherein two becomes three.

not alone | 2,3k | Completely on accident, Piers and Chris happen to be there to save Leon from a tight spot. Cuddles ensue.

Krauser/Leon

drive me crazy (your eyes made me crave for this) | 2,3k | It was the best sex Krauser had ever had in his life. That’s why he kept coming back to Leon, kept saying ‘yes’ every single time the man as much as hinted that he might be up for meeting. He was getting off, and he was enjoying every second of it, and that was the extent of it. There certainly weren’t any feelings involved. None. None at all.

enjoying the view | 200w | Krauser likes ass-watching.

carry me to bed | 440w | Slowly Leon was coming back to his senses. Sweat was cooling on his skin, the hard surface of the table underneath him starting to feel uncomfortable.

and I lied that we would be fine | 1,1k | Leon knows he isn’t supposed to be doing this. There’s a vague recollection of something more important, something he should be focusing on, but the vast majority of his world has narrowed down onto the slick slide of their bodies, on the cheap scratchy sheets on his skin, on the sound of Krauser’s voice in his ear, and he can’t bring himself to care.

yet never enough | 1,9k | Krauser likes mirrors.

of wanting | 400w | Leon’s laughter echoed in the room as Krauser pinned him against the wall, before shutting him up with a ravenous kiss.

better with you | 590w | Despite knowing Krauser had his back, Leon was genuinely surprised when the man sat down right next to him instead of telling him to suck it up and get moving.

breakfast | 530w | Lately things had slowly begun to shift. And Leon wasn’t sure yet what was going on. Or how he felt about it.

kill me now | 900w | It was more than clear how much Krauser enjoyed their frantic attempts to kill one another, and Leon’s traitorous body shivered in response, the memory of times long gone returning like no time had passed at all.

lust that I've already spilled | 1,4k | “C’mon, Leon,” Krauser taunted, grinning as widened his stance. “This cock isn’t gonna suck itself.”

will you just look at me | 650w | Krauser refuses to do feelings.

Wesker/Chris

I am the light that shall lead you to darkness | 1,8k | In all honesty, Chris wasn’t entirely sure how he’d ended up here: a panting mess, bent over a massive wooden table with Wesker holding him down laughably easily.

the light to drown in darkness | 2,0k | Wesker craves Chris. So Wesker takes Chris.

love-hate-(obsession?) | 470w | Wesker is a lovesick fool. If he wasn’t also a homicidal maniac, Jill would almost feel sorry for him.

#the old guard #resident evil #kaysanova #chreon #metaltango #nivannedy #chrisker #kreon #idk what i'm forgetting it's 2 am and i've spent seven hours on this #have pity on me :'D #my fics #2020 #this was so much work #i am praying for the links to work properly #so i don't need to touch this again nnhhh

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lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

Twenty-Four Hours

a/n: Hello!!! I’m back again with some more fluff!! Yay! Not even a touch of angst 😌 In this little piece of writing we have Fiancé!Shawn!! Enjoy! ALSO major thanks to @saysweartogod-og who came up with this idea when I was at a loss at how not make this prompt a cliché of saying bye to Shawn before he leaves for a tour!! Emily always showing up with her creative ideas😌😌

Also, all your nice words make me cry 🥺I love reading your thoughts!! THANKS A MILLION FOR ALL YOUR SUPPORT! 💞😊

REQUEST: Pulling away from a hug that you wish would last longer

Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.2K

With a wedding, there comes a lot of traditions. The bridal shower, bachelor and bachelorette parties, picking out that one dress that feels magical, rehearsal dinners, and the old wives tale of not being able to see your future spouse twenty-four hours before you walk down the aisle.

A whole twenty-four hours.

It was insane really, you had friends who had just gone the night before their wedding without seeing their future and they seemed to be doing just fine. But your mom got yourself stuck in your head with traditions this and traditions that. You didn’t know how much you believed in the myth that your marriage with Shawn would be doomed before it started if you saw him before your wedding. But you weren’t willing to take the chance. Just in case.

You had spent the day with Shawn and the bridal party, enjoying each other’s company like you did when you were teenagers. There were a lot of drinking games involved that you barely participated in, but would partner up with Shawn if he gazed at you with gentle, pleading eyes. It was going to be a long marriage if you couldn’t start saying no to him.

With having an early afternoon ceremony, it was the night before your twenty-four hours would go into effect, the last night you would spend with Shawn as his fiancé. It was a curious feeling; definitely one of excitement because you would finally be able to call Shawn your husband. But a bit odd because the more you thought about it, the more you realized that nothing would really change. You two already lived together, already had sex, and already acted like a married couple. The only change would be your last name and the extra band on your left hand that would leave your skin considerably paler than the rest.

You had just finished getting ready for bed and looked at the time. It was nearing ten o’clock and you had about fourteen hours left with Shawn until the twenty-four hour rule would come into effect. Spending a whole day a part from him seemed like torture, but it was a small price to pay for a lifetime with him.

The sound of the toilet flushing and the sink running brought you out of your thoughts. You were curled into the hotel room’s duvet when Shawn appeared shirtless from the bathroom, sweatpants hanging on his hips. He turned off the bathroom light and then made his way to the front of the room to turn all of the lights in the room off.

The darkness blanketed the room like the duvet weighing you down, but soon enough, the duvet lifted slightly off your body and you felt the mattress dip down. Shawn inched his way closer to you so you were able to feel his breath hit your face, “Hi.”

You let out a small laugh, “Hey there.”

Before you knew it, Shawn’s strong arms reached out and pulled you in close to him. A loud laugh escaped through your lips as Shawn nuzzled his head into your shoulder and pressed soft kisses on your neck. You were so content with your life right now; every heartbreak you went through before Shawn, every heartbreak you went through with Shawn…everything led you to this moment, laying in bed, with Shawn as your fiancé, feeling like everything was perfect.

“So close,” Shawn mumbled into your shoulder before he brought his head up to look at you. His face was so close to yours that you could see the excitement in his eyes, even through the pitch black, “Can’t we just elope? I wanna be able to call you my wife right now.”

You let out a laugh as you brought a hand up to his face, brushing away some of his curls, “I think both of our parents would murder us if they weren’t there.”

“Fair point,” Shawn fell back onto the mattress with a thump. The warmth that radiated off him caused you to close your eyes and scoot closer to the heat of his chest, “It’s just so close.”

You nodded her head against his chest, “Just a little over a day now.”

“And you want to do that twenty-four hour thing?”

“I mean, yeah,” you lifted your fingertips up to his stomach and started lightly drawing shapes, “Don’t want to jeopardize anything.”

He let out a deep breath, “If you really want to…” He sounded hesitant on the tradition and you poked his chest until he offered up more information, “It’s just––I think it’s a bit silly is all. We’ve been together for years, and supposedly not seeing each other for twenty-four hours will make or break our marriage?”

“We’ve gone longer without seeing each other before,” you alluded to all the times Shawn had gone on tour and you wouldn’t see him for months, “and besides,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Just think about how exciting it’ll be to see me walking down the aisle.”

A fond smile crossed over his face as he brought a hand behind his head, “I’ve been dreaming about that for years now.”

A smile lit up on your face, much like Shawn’s, when the two of you thought about meeting each other at the end of the aisle. Like him, you had been dreaming of that moment for years now, probably longer than he has.

Your dreams were full of him standing with his back to yours, styled up in a sharp black tuxedo, as Brian stood by his side whispering in his ear how breathtaking you looked walking down the aisle. You could already feel it in your stomach, the giddiness mixed with the nerves that came with walking down the aisle toward a new future with the person you would love forever.

And as you fell asleep in Shawn’s arms, you dreamed of the hydrangeas lined up by the pews, the blue charm bracelet Shawn gifted to you on your first Valentine’s Day together that would be clasped around your wrist, and the look on Shawn’s face when you two were finally able to look at each other after twenty-four hours.

A dream soon to be a reality.

•••

The morning you woke up you were already wishing that you stuck to only not seeing Shawn the night before your wedding instead of the full twenty-four hours. The realization came to you when you woke up before him and lifted your head up to see him slightly snoring, one hand on his stomach as his chest moved up and down, with the corners of his lips turned upright.

Your heart ached that you were going to have to go a full day without seeing him. But you already had your rehearsal ceremony and dinner last night, so there was no excuse to have a gathering of people again.

Shawn woke up not long after you, a lazy smile on his face as he pecked your lips after saying one word that made your insides explode; tomorrow. You didn’t want to go down to the morning breakfast that was being held somewhere in the hotel for just you and your wedding guests. You wanted to spend all the time you could with your future husband.

The moment just after the two of you were fully awake were spent in silence, enjoying each other’s presence, snuggled up under the covers. It wasn’t until you were both texted by each of your mother’s requesting your presence in the breakfast room before all of the guests started showing up. Reluctantly, you two trudged to the bathroom, getting ready side by side.

You followed Shawn out of the room and reached for his hand after he pressed the down arrow for the elevator. You leaned into his side and rested your head on his arm, wanting to be as close to him as possible with your time ticking down. When the elevator came, the two of you silently stepped in as he pressed a kiss to your temple.

Even after years together, butterflies still erupted in your stomach after every gesture of affection Shawn made, and you knew that it would still ring true when you’re seventy and graying.

Thankfully, the elevator didn’t make any stops to pick anyone up, so you continued to enjoy Shawn’s company in silence. When the elevator dropped you off at the lobby, you quickly walked past the glass doors, a few screams erupting for Shawn were faintly heard, and while he would normally go out and say hi to his fans, you were his only priority for the next few days.

Once you were in the private room that held the breakfast, you saw a few family members already sitting down and eating. When your mom and Karen saw the two of you walk in, they took their napkins off their laps and walked to you with beaming smiles.

“There are the love birds,” your mom said in a sing-song voice, “How was your last night together as fiancés?”

“Relaxing,” you said as you pulled away from Karen’s hug, “We were both exhausted so we passed out.”

“Likely story,” Aaliyah said with a smirk as she passed your little group with a plate of scrambled eggs and an assortment of breakfast meat.

“Aaliyah,” Karen reprimanded her daughter, as you and Shawn both let out an awkward laugh, “If they said they fell asleep, then they fell asleep.” Karen’s hard stare on her daughter softened when she turned to face you and Shawn, “I hope you two just slept.”

“Mom,” Shawn whined as you felt your face reddened, the carpet becoming more interesting than either of your mother’s questioning gazes.

You piped up, “I swear we just slept.”

Karen patted your cheek, “Oh, honey, I believe you,” she gave you a warm smile, one that gave off the impression that she had accepted you into the family a long time ago, “I believe you more than this one,” she jabbed her thumb over at her son, which only caused him to whine even more.

As family members and friends slowly trickled in, you and Shawn would greet them together or part ways for a brief moment to make sure you thanked everyone for coming. Even though you would only be separated for a split second before you wrapped a hand around his arm, it felt too long. The rest of the morning went like that, slow and always being by each other’s side.

Breakfast was over and now you and Shawn were checking with your wedding planner to make sure everything was good to go for the big day tomorrow. Part of you was worried that something was going to go wrong. It almost seemed too good to be true that nothing had gone wrong yet, but you trusted your wedding planner when she informed you that everything was set. Only a teeny tiny weight that was lifted from your shoulders.

After the meeting with your wedding planner went better than expected, you were in a car to one of your favorite restaurants. It was just past noon, you had just under three more hours with Shawn. And much like the rest of the day, you spent the car ride in silence. This would be your final thank you said together to your guests before you were Mr. and Mrs. Shawn Mendes.

The lunch went off without a hitch; jokes shared by friends, toasts said by both of your parents, and stories told by your grandparents. You had not stopped smiling throughout the whole ordeal and that was partly due to the fact you kept gazing at your husband-to-be who sat next to you. Every time he rested a hand on your knee out of habit, you smiled. Every time he stole a piece of food off your plate, you smiled. And every time he leaned in close, his breath tickling the side of your face, to whisper how much he loved you, and only you, into your ear, you smiled.

Guests were coming up bidding you farewells and saying how they couldn’t wait for the big day tomorrow. You would laugh and agree with them; I’ve been waiting for this my entire life, Shawn would always say in response as he looked down at you with a glint of love he always held for you in his eyes.

It was quarter to three and your mother kept reminding you every ten minutes how much time you had left with Shawn. Now, it was only your closest friends and family left in the back room where lunch was held. While your families mingled and your friends laughed, you and Shawn were still sitting at your seats, chairs facing each other, knees touching.

“Can’t we just do the thing where we don’t see each other the night before?” Your voice was shaky as you squeezed the top of Shawn’s hand that was resting on your knee, “Tweak it just a little.”

Shawn let out a small laugh, “Last night you were going off about how you didn’t want to jeopardize anything, what’s changed?” You shrugged your shoulders and broke eye contact with him. “Hey, look at me,” Shawn softly whispered with care in his voice as he lifted your chin up with the tips of his fingers, “Not getting cold feet, are you?”

“Shawn,” you weren’t in the mood for joking. It was the day before your wedding and you should feel the happiest you’ve ever felt in your life. But for some reason you felt devastated. There was a weight in your chest that became heavier whenever the clock ticked closer and closer to three o’clock. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow––to finally be able to call Shawn your husband––but you didn’t want to be separated from him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he offered you a smile, but you failed to return it, “But what’s up?”

You were silent, focusing your attention on your breathing. You opened your mouth, but closed it back up quickly when you felt it go dry. You tried to swallow down your emotions, pressure building in the back of your throat as you told yourself you weren’t going to cry. You didn’t care that your jaw hurt from clenching your teeth so hard, or that the stinging behind your eyes was causing your throat to feel scratchy.

You weren’t going to cry.

With one more try, you opened your mouth to share your worries, but your mother had successfully cut you off, “Okay, lovebirds!” Her voice was far off, not wanting to disrupt the moment you two were sharing, “Officially less than ten minutes! Time to start saying your goodbyes!”

“Shawn.”

But instead of saying his name in a berating tone, you said his name out of desperation. A single tear leaked from your eye, voice cracking, as your breathing grew heavier. It seemed to click with him that you were upset about parting ways with him.

He immediately pushed his chair back, reaching down to your hand, and pulling you right up into his chest for a bone crushing hug. You pressed your cheek tight up against his chest, hands clutching the back of his shirt, no doubt wrinkling his navy button down shirt. His taut arms were wrapped equally as tight around your waist. It was a bit difficult to breathe, but that didn’t matter to you at the moment, spending time without Shawn before the wedding already felt like you were suffocating.

With each kiss he pressed to the top of your head, a tear would fall from your eye. There was no emotion other than joy that described how you felt about marrying Shawn. He was your person––your home––and you felt safe in his embrace. From the first time he hugged you, you could feel the care. He was gentle with his touches, but there was always a firmness to his hugs, a need for him to protect you.

His hugs felt like home; a place you were able to confide your deepest sorrows, a place where he made you feel safe and appreciated for the person you are.

He pressed another kiss to the top of your head as he went to pull away, but you weren’t ready, so you only wound your arms tighter around his torso. He let out a deep sigh, not wanting to be away from you either, “It’s just twenty-four hours,” he whispered only for you to hear, “Twenty-four hours in exchange for a whole life time together.”

A lifetime together.

You smiled through your tears and loosened your grip around his waist. He took advantage of the little room you gave him as he slightly bent down and wiped his thumbs under your eyes, “I can already picture you walking down the aisle,” his eyebrows were pulled together, eyes glistening with tears that had yet to spill over as he smiled, “You’re going to look so damn beautiful.”

You choked out a laugh, tears still spilling out over your eyes.

“My dreams are coming true,” a tear finally slipped past his eye, “In just twenty-four hours, I won’t need anything else in the world.”

Instead of a cry of sadness, a cry of happiness passed through you as you dove your head back into Shawn’s chest. You could feel a few pairs of eyes on you, but that didn’t concern you. Your only concern was to be as close to Shawn as possible before your mother interrupted one of your moments again.

You savored everything from the hug; the fast thump of his heart against his chest, the scent of his shirt that had made its way into your clothes that were mixed in the wash, and the security that his hands brought when he rubbed up and down your spine…you tried to memorize everything.

Your mother didn’t have to come over to break up your moment; you knew that ten minutes was up and that it was time to part ways. Shawn was first to pull away, and while you hummed into his chest in protest, you would rather have your moment ended by Shawn than your mother who was politely staying a distance away.

With his eyes closed, Shawn tilted his head to press a soft kiss to your lips, the last kiss before your wedding. The kiss tasted salty from the small tears that continued to slowly fall from both of your eyes, but you still felt him pour all of his love into it.

Reluctantly he pulled away and gently rubbed his nose against yours, “See you in twenty-four hours, Mr. Mendes.”

It was the first time today where you felt the pre-wedding jitters in your stomach disappear. The weight you felt on your shoulders, the anxiety you felt creep up your stomach; it all disappeared in that moment.

“See you in twenty-four hours, Soon-to-be Mrs. Mendes.”

#😌😌😌#some morning fluff for you 😌#or afternoon fluff or evening fluff #fluff all around!!!#enjoy it while it lasts bc I have a few angst pieces coming up!!#I'll still be writing but I have a lot of things I have saved to read and I want to get some reading in before I post something again!#as always reblog are never expected but always appreciated!!#I love you all lots!!#thanks a mILLION!!!!#Shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes drabble #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Peter raul mendes #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes writings #Shawn Mendes fics #Shawn Mendes x reader #fluff #probs missing a few tags but I don't really care!!!!#gotta get back to work!!! :)

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queen-of-deans-booty · 4 years

Text

It’s Only the Beginning

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, oral fem recieving, fingering, beard burn

Request by @brokenheartscrybrokentears: Are you still doing a requests? If so can you do a smutty request where she and Jensen are at a dinner and he is under the table?? Please please please..?? Thank you..

Summary: All you wanted was to enjoy a meal with your husband, but instead, he’s making a meal out of you.

give him an inch and he will take a yard @as-the-saying-goes-bingo torture @spndeanbingo accidental confession @spngenrebingo “You have cream cheese on your face” “Wanna lick it off?” “Is that a dare?” @spnquotebingo

Author’s Note: This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

You and your husband have been so busy with life and work that you two never have any time for one another. It’s always been touch-and-go with a lot of things, so you were really looking forward to having a date night with him. You can tell work has been putting a damper on his mental health--always going to work with tired eyes and coming home with brittle bones and heavier bags underneath his eyes. It’s not fair how hard he works when he doesn’t get a lot of rewards for it. He says he doesn’t mind, but you can see past his tough exterior.

It was actually your idea to go out tonight, and you kept reminding him that you would kill him in his sleep if he tried to postpone or cancel on you. Knowing the threat was real to some degree, he made sure he was free tonight. This night was supposed to help him relax and get his mind off things, but instead, he’s made it all about you.

His chair across from you is empty, but his presence is still hanging over you, always reminding you that he has you exactly where he wants. Your face must be red at this point from how hard you’re trying to keep all your feelings and thoughts to yourself. Your knuckles are sore from how hard you're clutching the table cloth. You’re far enough away from other people for them not to know what is going on here, but you’re close enough that if you make a sound, they will definitely hear.

You’re trying so hard to act like everything is okay, but apparently, you’re not doing a good job. The waitress stops chatting with the bartender enough to notice you, and she heads over to your table with a concerned look on your face.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

“W-why wouldn’t I-I be okay?” you stutter.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you are squirming and almost at the brink of tears for the last twenty minutes. Is your husband gone?”

“No, h-he’s not finished,” you clear your throat to stop the moan from escaping.

You could have sworn you heard Jensen laugh, but it’s more like you felt it. This little bastard is going to get what’s coming to him soon enough.

“Do you want me to get you anything?”

“N-No, I’ll b-be fine. My stomach just hurts that’s all. Cramps, y-you know.”

“I do,” she smirks so faintly you thought you were seeing things. “I’ll come by a little later to check on you, okay?”

“Y-yeah, sounds g-good.”

She leaves the table with a knowing look on her face, and you just know that she knew exactly what was going on. Maybe the only reason she didn’t try to stop it is that there wasn’t a lot of people in the restaurant to begin with. Maybe she wanted you to get yours. You have no clue why she didn’t stop it, but you’re glad she didn't.

You kind of brought this on yourself because you’re slapping yourself internally right now when you think back to the conversation that started this all.

“I have a confession to make,” you slur.

You were out with your girlfriends drinking and having a good time when your husband picked you up when your friends realize that you’re only going to get worse.

“What is that?” he chuckles as he drives you two home.

“You know what my biggest fantasy is? You know, sexually?”

“Are we really going there right now? All I’m going to do is put you to bed after I get you to drink some water.”

“I don’t want any water. I want you.”

“Not tonight, sweetheart. You know this.”

“I didn’t tell you my fantasy though!” you hiccup.

“What is it?” he sighs and stops at a stoplight.

“I really want public sex. The thrill of it all turns me on. You know, not knowing if people know but knowing you could get caught at any moment. I want that,” you giggle.

Jensen just stares at you, not really paying attention to the light that just turned green. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the car behind him honk their car for him to start moving. He looks at you up and down before resuming the drive home.

“Just know you asked for it,” he chuckles mischievously.

Jensen’s words are replaying in your mind over and over again, always reminding you that you’re the one that put yourself in this situation. If you’d known that giving him this little bit of freedom was going to turn into this, you wouldn’t have done it--well, that’s what you want to tell yourself. You’re so lucky these tables have cloths that go all the way to the ground because if they didn’t, then you would for sure get caught.

Jensen’s hands grip your thighs tightly, spreading your legs wider so he can have more access to your dripping pussy. He’s been at this for twenty minutes, and he’s still not done. He wants to bring you to the peak as many times as he can before your body tells him that you can’t take any more. His tongue slides between your folds before plunging back into you. You let out a small squeak, earning a few stares from a few people around you.

S-sorry,” you whisper.

His fingers find your throbbing clit, and the sudden pressure on the bundle of nerves causes you to clench your thighs around his face. He’s been growing out his beard, so you know you’ll definitely have beard burn later on. He slots his shoulders between your thighs so they have nowhere else to go before paying attention to your clit once again.

He pinches the nerve bundle between his fingers, rolling it lightly. A surge of pleasure shoots straight from your core to virtually every spot in your body. Your knees jerk upward, hitting the end of the table with a loud thud. Your cheeks heat up, you’re afraid everyone is going to know just how flushed you are. This is complete torture, and he knows it.

Jensen is just basking in amusement and cockiness from how things are going, he decides to take it up a notch. He removes his long and wet tongue from your center, only to lick up to your clit. He switches places with his fingers so that when he cups his lips around your clit, he slides in two thick fingers.

Your channel stretches to fit him, and you place your hand over your mouth so muffle the moan you know is going to slip. He starts to recite the alphabet with his tongue, scissoring his fingers to stretch you for his cock later. He won’t take you in the restaurant because he wants those moans reserved for him and him only.

“Shit, Jensen, you need to stop,” you whisper, hoping that no one heard you.

Once he adds another finger, you can feel your orgasm quickly approaching. All the stimulation on your clit and your g-spot is enough to bring you right at the edge. Jensen knows your body more than you do, so he knows exactly what kind of strings to play to get you right where he wants. To put you over the edge for the fourth time that evening, he gives your clit a little nibble.

He knows that you don’t really like teeth being on your most sensitive area, but you also know that Jensen would never do anything to harm you. He is more than capable of experimenting with you on things, and this is one of them.

“Shit!” you exclaim loudly, covering your mouth when you realize what you have done. Everyone looks over at you, and you clear your throat before letting out your breath shakily. “I’m fine. S-sorry everyone.”

It takes them a few minutes to go back to what they were doing, all the while you’re coming down from your high. Jensen’s face must be covered with your release by now, but he’s brought a napkin with him to wipe away the evidence. You’re pretty sure everyone here knows what is happening, but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

Jensen finally pulls away from you, granting you a break for the night. He cleans you and himself up before peeking out from underneath the table to see if anyone is looking. When the coast is clear, he returns to his seat with the most shit-eating grin on his face.

“If I knew I’d be having a second dessert, I would have not finished my meal,” he chuckles.

“You fucking asshole,” you hiss, not meaning it at all.

“You’re the one that asked for it. I’m just delivering,” he whispers and takes a bite of his cheesecake that has been left untouched until now.

“Everyone was staring. I won’t be able to walk out of here, Jensen,” you say.

“Then I did my job right.”

“Don’t look so smug. I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Game on then, sweetheart,” he laughs and takes another bite.

He holds out his fork for you to taste, and you glare but take one anyway. Your little activity has made you parched.

“You have cream cheese on your face,” Jensen notes and grab his napkin.

“Wanna lick it off?” you retort, not realizing what you said.

“Is that a dare?” he chuckles.

“No, never mind, it was a joke,” you say and wipe your own face clear of any mess. “You did enough licking for one night.”

“It’s so cute you think I’m done with you,” he chuckles and takes yet another bite of his dessert.

You stare at him, speechless, because how can he give you more than what he’s already given? Four orgasms in one evening and he wants to do more? He knows your body better than you do, so you trust him completely. Now all you’re going to be thinking about is what he’s going to do to you when you finally get home.

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 4 years

Text

Obi Wan x Padawan Reader Never Lie to Me

Pairing: Sith Obi Wan Kenobi x padawan reader

Summary : Reader misplaces something important and tries to find it before her Master can find out.

Warnings: language, sexual themes, *slight smut*

***************************************************

Hello my loves! Ok so I absolutely love Sith obi wan but for some reason I struggle to write him. I tried something and hopefully it's not complete trash like I think it is lol anywaaaaaaays enjoy😚

18+ readers only!

*************************************************

Oh this was bad...this was very very bad....

Okay y/n don't freak out, you can hide this! You can totally hide this!!

Fuck no you couldn't

You groaned sliding down the wall of your chambers. How could you be so stupid?! Losing your lightsaber like that?! Did you have a death wish?!

You could only imagine how enraged your master would be.. you shook your head violently dissipating the horrible thoughts.

No no no, it would not come to that becasue you would find it. It probably fell somewhere by your speeder. Yeah it's there for sure.....probably.....

Sighing you stood up and grabbed a cloak to cover your hip and the usual missing weapon spot that hung there.

You couldn't help but imagine all the horrible scenarios that ran through your mind if Master kenobi found out.

One included merciless unending training, not letting you rest for even a moment.

Another image had you bent over his knee whilst he.... ughhh you could already feel the sting.

Your master and you had a...unique relationship to say the least... he was your master in the ways of the dark side, so you had a strict student master dynamic during training.

He took your training very seriously, leaving little room for error. But as some point his punishments got more....creative..

You couldn't help but feel your face heat up remembering that time you screwed up a mission and he saw to your reprimanding. From then on your relationship became more....personal.

He didnt give you any special treatment, and didnt allow any distractions during training. But the times after training...when he would call you to his chambers and.....

You couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat, or two, or twenty, and you couldn't help but to recall those moments..

That scent...

Those whispers..

His fingers.....

"What are you thinking about?" A smooth voice cut through your indecent thoughts like butter. You whipped around startled that the man in question was now standing right behind you.

Quickly you made sure your shields were up, something you had made sure to refine. You didnt want him hearing all your dirty thoughts during training...

"I-I was just thinking about the mission.." you took a step back trying to regain your composure. Why did you always manage to act like a floundering idiot when he was around?!

"Hmm, is it really the mission that has you so flustered?" He mused stepping closer.

"Or something else?"he smirked knowingly.

Bastard, he must've read my thoughts before I realized he was here...

"It's-" you attempted to change the subject before he cut you off.

"And I know you know better than to lie to me don't you?" He said slightly more serious. A familiar dark edge to his voice.

You gulped, "Yes master..."

"I was thinking of other things..." you trail off averting your gaze hoping he wouldnt make you say it out loud.

Although he'd technically seen you naked quite a few times now, you still felt so embarrassed regarding anything or your "intimate moments". This was due mostly to the many embarrassing things he made you do....well ok to be fair you didnt REALLY try to stop him...but the second those moments were over you could barely look him in the eyes.

You felt those familiar warm finger gently lift your chin. You met his deep gaze,

"Speaking of other things...you did rather well on the mission, we were able to conquer the planet thanks to your efforts, so I suppose a reward is in order...dont you agree darling?" He whispered the last part in your ear making you shiver slightly.

Oh how you enjoyed those rewards of his...quite possibly the only time he would treat you gently. Well there were those times he wasnt so gentle either...actually maybe you liked those more...

AH WAIT WHAT AM I DOING, I NEED TO FIND MY SABER!!

You place you hands on his chest and gently push.

"A-actually master I wondered if I might have your permission to leave the ship I..wanted too...look around a bit more before we have to leave!" You hurriedly came up with an excuse.

He stepped back, eyeing you for a moment before nodding his approval, "Alright, be back before nightfall" he warned and continued walking down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight you let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully he bought that story. You quickly made your way to the ship's exit and onto the lush planet known as Misano.

Normally you would've liked a chance to explore and maybe even sneak some souvenirs back. But you had no time for that now. If you didnt find that saber soon you were toast. And it didnt help that Misano turned from a tropical paradise to a frozen tundra trap by nightfall. It was truly a unique planet.

But you could admire it another time, preferably when your life wasn't on the line...

************************************

You looked up at the setting sky as dread washed over you. You had scoured and searched for your blasted saber for hours but it was no use. You had retraced your steps multiple times and even question some of the citizens to see if they knew anything.

You didnt want to even humor the idea but now it was the most likely truth. Some lowlife had probably picked it up and would soon be rolling in credits.

You pulled your cloak tighter around you as the wind started to pick up. You knew you should start to head back before it got too cold but honestly freezing to death sounded better than whatever punishment you master would enforce...

************************************

You were now full on shivering as you made your way back to the ship. The sun had set long ago and you now knew why everyone kept warning you to get inside. Your boots the only reason you could trudge through the many layers of snow.

You must've questioned every suspicious looking citizen however no luck. Your saber was probably gone forever and on top of that punishment you were sure your master was going to be angry that you disobeyed and stayed out later than he permissed.

Ughh I should just let myself freeze over...

Another half an hour later you finally made it back to the ship. Immediately you dragged yourself through the halls to your room and ordered your droid servant to run a hot bath. You were extremely lucky that master kenobi hadn't spotted you yet.

You could barely feel anything and felt horribly tired. Even the steam rising from afar felt like heaven as it reached your frost bitten skin.

You removed your practically stiff cloak but had no energy for the rest so you plopped fully clothed into the steaming water, immediately sighing in relief as you slowly felt feeling returning to all parts of your body.

You rested your head back and took a deep breath, inhaling the warm air.

*achoo* fuck...

you could already feel your nose becoming stuffed and there was a slight scratch in your throat. Perfect, getting sick was just what you needed.

After you were fully warmed up, you drained the water and lazily wrapped a fluffy towel around you. You felt the exhaustion of the mission plus everything afterwards tenfold as soon as your body hit the mattress.

You spread out lazily letting the cool sheets relax your now warmed body, covers discarded on the floor.

Your eyes drooped slowly closed once, focused on the space by the end of your bed, you tried to fight off sleep but it was proving difficult,

You opened them but slowly they drooped closed again,

The third time however you saw a blurry outline of a man.

"M-master!" Like a rocket you sat up, heart beating out of your chest. You quickly pulled up the towel over your chest.

"Y-you scared me..." You placed a hand over your beating chest trying to catch your breath. You had been too tired to even sense him coming.

He stood with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face. "I distinctly remember telling you to be back before dark did I not?" He stepped closer until he was right at the end of the bed.

Oh Crap hes mad.... you sat up a little straighter trying to ignore the fact you were practically naked in front of him.

"I'm sorry master, the time got away from me..." your mouth feeling unnaturally dry as the lie left your lips.

You hated lying to him. Well you hated what usually happened when you lied to him and he found out....

He eyed you silently before leaning over the bed intimidatingly close. He leaned next to your ear before speaking,

"You're lying" a dangerous edge to his voice now

You felt your heart stop and a rush of panic fill you. Fuck fuck fuck.

Slowly he came back into view.

His eyes were a threatning color now. A silent deadly warning to choose your next words carefully. You had just broken his one rule. And he knew...

You felt a million emotions running through you. Fear, for getting caught breaking his most important rule. Shame for being stupid enough to lose something so important. And Guilt for lying to the one person you never ever wanted to lie too...

"Ah I-I'm Sorry!!" You blurted out suddenly. "I-I didn't mean too! But so much was going on with the mission!! A-and I must've been distracted and I swear I tried master I really did! B-but no one knew anything and then it started getting dark and cold a-and I didnt know what to do so I came back, but I didnt want you to be disappointed or mad so I didnt tell you the truth and I'm so so so sorry!!" You bowed your head breathing heavily, hardly realizing that your explanation made no sense. Your eyes shut tightly shielding you from his whatever horrible expression he surely had on his face.

A few moments of dreadful silence passed before you felt him shift.

"Look at me" you barely felt the ghostly touch of his fingers guide your chin up.

You sucked in a nervous breathe when you realized you were only inches from his face. His eyes were dark and penetrating. Whenever he looked at you like this you felt completely exposed. Like he could see right through your soul.

"Now calm down and tell me the truth little one" he said dangerously calm. Sometimes that was even scarier then when he yelled...

Taking a deep breathe you gathered your wits and with a deeply ashamed tone you confessed, "I lost my lightsaber.." you could feel burning at the corner of your eyes but you continued through it, "I looked for it everywhere but..." you looked down again dejectedly. What a dumb apprentice I am.. hes probably so disappointed in me.. "I'm sorry Master.."

You waited for what felt like hours until he spoke, "I know" he said in an even tone.

Your eyes shot open in surprise, "w-what?"

"How many times must I remind you nothing happens without me knowing about it."

"So then..." he knew you were lying all along...

"Yes my apprentice" he grasped your chin slightly harder now but still somehow gentle, "When will you learn..." he slowly ran his thumb over your bottom lip, dragging it down, "that you can't hide anything from me.." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I know..I'm sorry, I was just afrai-" he cut you off with a sharp slap to your thigh.

"What have I told you about lying to me?" he caressed your bare thigh making it harder for you to focus.

"That-that I am never to lie to you...no matter what..." your breath hitched as his hand inched closer across your thigh and to your most sensitive area. However just when he was inches away he abruptly removed all contact.

You immediately felt sad at the loss.

"Exactly, and yet you did exactly that" he nodded his head, "I'm disappointed little one, especially since if you had told the truth..." he reached behind him grabbing something and bringing it forward, "you could've saved yourself alot of trouble"

You let out a gasp, "My saber!!" He let you take it from his grasp, you beamed finally feeling whole again.

"But how did you..?" You asked confused where and how he had found it.

"It fell when you jumped on your speeder during the battle" he explained nodding slightly in exasperation.

So this whole time he had it?! And that means he knew all day that you.....

"I shouldnt have lied" you apologized sincerely. "I just didn't want to disappoint you..especially since I did so well on the mission..." you mustered the best regretful expression you could. "Are you angry with me...?" You couldn't help but ask.

After a moment he smiled slightly, resting his rough palm on your cheek, "No..well not anymore, I was more upset that you risked your health by staying out too long, however I do sense your deep regret, so this time I'll let it slide"

Whoa did I hear that correctly, hes going to let it slide?? My master?? Had he hit his head during battle??

"Thank you Master, I promise it won't happen again" you meant it this time.

"Oh I know it wont pet" you shivered at the pet name he called you. He suddenly force pulled you closer until you were basically straddling him. You let out a shriek.

"Because this time.." he placed a firm hand on the back of your neck pulling you in for a possessive kiss.

He pulled away slightly and you felt his hot breathe by your ear, "I'll make sure you remember what happens when you don't." Suddenly you were on you back, towel thrown across the room.

"Whaa what?! I thought you said I was off the hook?!" You blushed fiercely as he force held your hands and legs to each corner and stood back to admire your helpless form.

He smirked wickedly, "I said you were off the hook for staying out too late.. however..." you gasped as you felt invisible fingers begin to tease your most sensitive area.

"For lying to me.." he eyed you with a gaze now hooded with lust and a dangerous glint, "You will be punished until I am certain you've learned your lesson my darling..."

***************************************************Thanks for reading!! I had alot of trouble writing sith obi wan but I tried my best. Let me know if you guys liked this enough and want to see similar Sith obi wan x apprentice fics. Alsoooo 👀if enough people want a mini 18+ continuation of the *cough* punishment.....lemme know🙈

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wickedmilo · 3 years

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YOU’RE REALLY NOT MY TYPE | MILO & LUCE

PLACE: A dive bar TIMING: 1:13 AM SUMMARY: Tired of drinking alone, Milo approaches Luce and makes an attempt to befriend her. It does not go well. WRITING PARTNER: @divineluce CONTENT WARNINGS: Addiction, alcoholism, inebriation, PTSD

Milo was drunk. If he considered being inebriated a regular occurrence before his death, he had taken things to an entirely new level after waking up as a vampire. Even with Harsh making an effort to help him learn and understand, things were difficult. Beyond difficult. He missed his old life, missed being in the centre of a crowd, making friends with every single stranger in the smoking area, going home with someone without even knowing their name. He couldn’t do any of those things anymore. Not without an overwhelming desperation for blood. Not without fear, and anxiety clawing viciously at his chest. That didn’t ease the need to drink though, his body was still craving what it had been relying on for years. There was only so much he could do before being alone and sober became too much. Which was how, not for the first time, he found himself at a bar.

It was stupid, he knew it was stupid. But he was so tired. If he could steal even a semblance of his old life back, then he was going to try. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting alone, staring down at the dregs in his glass, before he finally forced himself to his feet. There was a girl who didn’t look too far from his age, sitting alone just across from where he was lurking in the shadows. If she didn’t want company, he would leave. And if his bloodlust became too great, he was confident he would find a way to excuse himself. With that justification playing over in his mind, he set down his empty glass on her table. “Any chance you’ve reached the point of realising how depressing it is to drink alone, and wouldn’t say no to some company?” He asked, his voice lazy, drawn out by the alcohol in his system. “I mean, tell me to screw myself and I’ll go- I swear, I just- well, I’ve reached that point.”

The nightmares were still coming. She’d heard bits and pieces of the weird dream situation from fucking Leah of all people, a fact that irritated Luce to no end. She’d heard that whatever supernatural bullshit that had been fucking with the town’s collective sleep schedule was over. But, tonight-- just like so many other nights-- Luce’s dreams had jolted her awake and driven her from the place she called home. She could see Lydia’s face, staring at her, wide eyed as she stalked towards her. She could see herself, blood rolling down the wound in her leg, dripping from the knife she’d yanked out of her own flesh. Luce had watched, hovering behind Lydia, and had seen the unrelenting rage in her own eyes as she’d lunged forward and stabbed the iron spear through her body. Luce had felt the iron burn and sear against her skin, she’d heard the begging, pleading screams that still haunted her to this day. And then she’d woken up. And dragged herself here. Some shitty hole in the wall bar with shitty, cheap whiskey. But at least it was cheap.

Staring at the bottom of her glass Luce paused mid sip as some random kid approached her table. He looked as though he’d been drinking just as long as she had and he sounded it too. “If you’re making a pass, you’re barking up the wrong tree.” She said, more tired than irritated for once. “If you actually just want to drink. Sure. Go for it.” She said and gestured to the chair next to her.

Milo laughed, unable to stop the sound from escaping his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself.” He teased, his tone lighthearted, as he took a seat. “You’re really not my type.” Getting comfortable, something that was all too easy to do considering how inebriated he was, he tapped his fingers absentmindedly against his glass. If he leaned back against his chair a little, he could almost ignore the close proximity, the smell of his company’s blood. “So,” he started, watching the girl sitting across from him with an open curiosity. People didn’t just drink alone at bars when they were happy. Not in his experience, at least. “Do you get hit on by strangers very often?”

“Good cuz you’re not mine either.” Luce snorted. This guy looked like he was Nell’s age. A fucking kid. But, hey, if he was old enough to drink, so be it. And even if he wasn’t, she didn’t really give a shit. As he made himself comfortable, Luce stared at the ice cubes in her glass, willing them to melt. She wanted them to melt. For them to bubble and froth and to sublimate straight to vapor. But, they sat stubbornly whole in a pool of amber. Glancing over at the kid, she laughed. “No. Other way around.” She said before lifting the glass to her lips, “Usually, not right now though. Not really looking for that kind of company tonight. And if I was, it wouldn’t be here. Flaming Mo’s, Friction, anywhere but this shitty little bar.” She said, rattling off the usual haunts. Well, usual before shit had gone down with Remmy and Nadia, before her magic refused to flow through her veins.

Milo smiled. The easy, playful nature of the conversation was allowing him to relax. There was still a faint voice in the back of his mind telling him he couldn’t afford to, but it was the same voice that occasionally told him not to drink, or not to accept an unnamed substance from a stranger. He had been readily ignoring it for years. “Oh, really?” He asked, grinning easily at his company’s admission. He had a feeling he was going to like her. “So what’s got you drinking in this shitty little bar?” He asked. “There has to be a reason you aren’t at Flaming Mo’s, or Friction.” He downed what was left in his glass, dregs, really, before turning his attention back to the girl.

Still staring at the ice cubes in her cup, Luce’s lips curled slightly at his question. Nope. A lot of shit had happened in the last year. A lot had changed, including her. But, she still wasn’t the type to just fucking unload her problems to some stranger at the bar. Let alone some kid who looked like he could barely afford his drinks. “Sometimes people just want a change in scene. Nothing wrong with that.” She said coolly, lifting her glass back to her lips. “What about you, huh? What’s got you here? There are plenty of other places in town that don’t card. And they’ve at least got a more lively scene than this,” Luce gestured to the sleepy looking bar, filled with other people who had been doing the same as her before this kid rolled up. They were all quietly stewing in their own thoughts, in their own misery, with a glass in hand because it was easier than sitting in the dark at home.

Milo knew from the look the girl gave him that she wasn’t about to tell her story. Which was only fair when he considered the fact that he definitely wasn’t ready to share his own. “A change of scenery like a downgrade?” He teased, glancing around at the less than classy establishment. There were posters tacked to the walls, thrown into focus by dingy, yellow lighting. The bar was small, the bottles behind it suspiciously dusty. And the lack of patrons was a sign of just how poor the customer service was. In a way, he almost liked it. It felt good to be somewhere so… unbothered. Whoever owned this place wasn’t out to draw crowds, or make money. They just wanted to give people a place to mournfully drown their sorrows, and he respected that.

“Me? Oh, I really was looking for a downgrade.” He countered, sarcasm dripping from his tone. His eyes were shining though, a sign of his good nature. “You think I’m not old enough to drink? I’m 22.” He assured her, amused by the assumption. He had a list compiled in his head of every place in town that didn’t card at the door. Even though he didn’t need it anymore, the information seemed to be seared into his brain. Waving his hand, brushing off the mention of a livelier scene, he wrinkled his nose. He wanted a livelier scene, it just wasn’t an option for him right now. He had begrudgingly been forced to settle. “I’m kind of avoiding people right now…” He realised approaching her contradicted his statement, but it was the truth. Or sort of the truth. “Trying to, anyway.” He added. “Guess I’m not cut out for drinking alone.”

Lips pressing together in a thin line, Luce finished off the last of her drink. “Change of scene like people not bothering me here.” She said pointedly. This wasn’t a place where people made conversation, or met with some friends after work for drinks. That was what places like Dell’s was for. This bar was a dusty hole in the wall where the people here were for one thing only-- cheap drinks. “Uh huh. Sure you are.” Luce said with a shrug as she drummed her hands on the table. She should go home. She should just go home and just… deal. She should just go home and face it. With a sigh, Luce waved to get the sleepy-eyed bartender’s attention and gestured to call it quits.

“Well,” Luce said with a long sigh, knocking on the table as she stood up from her chair, “Sounds like you’ve got some work ahead of you if that’s the case.” She said before putting a twenty on the table, gesturing to the kid as she made eye contact with the bartender. “Use whatever’s left to cover his drinks too.” She said before making her way out the door. “Good luck with whatever’s got you drinking here. Check out Mo’s when you have a chance. It’s a better scene than here.”

Out in the cool night air, Luce paused outside the bar and pulled out her phone. She could Uber home, which would be fine. Or she could walk, it was how she got here in the first place. Without meaning to, Luce realized she was flicking through the contacts on her phone. She still had Remmy’s number. Which didn’t matter-- they’d left town. They were better off away from White Crest. Away from all the fucked up shit here. Away from her. Swallowing, her finger hovered over the delete contact button.

She took a deep breath and hit the button. She had to move on, she had to move beyond her past. And that meant letting go. Stowing her phone back in her pocket, Luce headed back into the night. She had to go home.

Milo frowned, suddenly feeling guilty for disturbing the girl. Although his motivations were often selfish, he never intended to cause trouble for anyone, and now he was forced to wonder whether she had agreed to his company to be polite. Or even worse, maybe she had felt as though she couldn’t say no to him. He stayed silent, listening to her brush off his comments. He liked to think he was self-aware enough to accept the fact that he wasn’t incredibly personable. On multiple occasions he had argued with people purely because they didn’t like his attitude, and looking back on said arguments, he couldn’t exactly blame them for getting upset. But he had kind of, almost been trying here. At the very least he had made a conscious effort not to be a dick. He watched as she flagged down the bartender, dropping a twenty before standing up to leave. “Oh- I… okay.” He couldn’t hide how miserable he felt, though he wasn’t sure why the rejection hurt. He had been alone five minutes ago, did it really matter if he was alone again now? Especially not when somebody had willingly paid for his drinks.

Tapping his fingers against his glass, he downed what was left of the contents, thinking about the last time he had visited Mo’s. He wanted, more than anything, to trust himself in such a busy environment, but he had already taken too many risks. He wasn’t in control. When was he ever in control? Letting out a huff of breath, a habit he had yet to shake, he pushed away from the table too, uncomfortable in the sudden silence. Pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, he had one in his mouth by the time he reached the door, desperate for a distraction from his thoughts. The cold air hitting his skin the moment he stepped outside, the vague scent of the girl he had been talking to still lingered in the air, but she had long since disappeared into the night, apparently desperate to get away from him. He sparked up, leaning against the brick wall behind him as he struggled to force down his emotions. It wouldn’t be the first time he had chased his feelings away with a trusty combination of nicotine, and alcohol. It certainly wouldn’t be the last.

#milo and luce #c:luce #ptsd tw #drug mention tw #alcoholism tw #addiction tw

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vs-redemption · 3 years

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Crime is Common. Logic is Rare (Ch.27)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Tension (HawksxGN!Reader)

Plot summary: As a quirk geneticist, you never really imagined yourself getting involved in hero work. Of course, you never imagined catching the eye of a pro hero either. What starts as a great career opportunity turns into a relationship built upon mutual secrets and trust.

Warnings:

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @gayforkeigo @marshmallow-witch @redflannel @toyo-shiro @elsasshole @astronomyturtle @iambashfulperson @omiwashere

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide

Considering everything you and Hawks had to cope with as a new couple, the relationship itself had gone quite smoothly as far as you were concerned. There was a lot of pressure due to the secretive and dangerous nature of your jobs at present, but disagreements were few and far between, and you were both flexible enough to resolve issues quickly without much heartache. However, the time had finally come for you to butt heads in earnest, and as far as first fights went, you had to believe you both deserved awards for the amount of self-control exercised from both parties.

Neither one of you were allowed to raise your voice, not even on accident in the heat of the moment. Actually, neither of you were allowed to speak at all. You could only scribble back and forth aggressively to convey your feelings because the subject you were arguing over was something neither one of you should have a reason to be discussing in the first place.

That unfortunate topic was Dabi.

You had refused to accept the fire villain’s request for you to spy on your boyfriend, and Hawks was quite adamant that doing so had been the wrong decision. Obviously you understood his concerns about crossing someone as dangerous as Dabi, but as long as Shigaraki’s wellbeing was in your hands, you were fairly certain the villains would leave you basically unharmed. Besides, Hawks was the one who had been against you getting involved any deeper with the League in the first place.

‘He threatened you,’ Hawks scratches down on the paper you were using to have the conversation. This method of communication was becoming frustrating for the both of you, especially since finding time to be together was hard enough as it was without having to waste precious moments of it writing everything you needed to tell each other by hand.

Your eyes slide across the words and the tension that you’d being fighting back ever since the encounter with Dabi began nagging you more persistently in the back of your mind. You do your best to lock the feelings back down and then meet Hawks’ eyes while shrugging off his concern. Certainly, Dabi had threatened you, but your life had already been in danger from the moment Dr. Garaki showed you that he could synthesize Nomu DNA. It wasn’t easy living with that fear, but as long as you had the knowledge inside your brain of what the villains were doing, there would be the chance of them deciding to silence you by taking your life. Adding Dabi into the equation didn’t make that any more or less true.

‘Tell the doctor you’ve reconsidered the offer,’ Hawks aggressively adds a period at the end as if it would turn his words into more of a demand than a suggestion.

It didn’t matter whether he wanted you to do this for your own safety or because he really thought it was the best course of action. You still shake your head even though you hated to see the look of disappointment in his eyes over your answer. You just couldn’t bring yourself to risk it. The villains were already suspicious of your relationship with Hawks. Both Shigaraki and Dabi had brought up the strangeness of dating a hero while helping out the villains. They’d be stupid not to even consider the possibility that you knew about Hawks’ involvement with the league or that one, if not both, of you were playing the role of double agent.

‘Changing my mind now will only make things more complicated.’ You write down the words despite knowing Hawks was smart enough to have already thought of them himself. It was just like the times when you’d mysteriously passed out in Garaki’s lab and encountered Shigaraki for the very first time. Backing out or changing your mind at the wrong moment would send a message to the doctor and the villains. They would wonder who you’d been talking to, or what had transpired after the fact that had made you think twice and go back on things you’d said in the past. It was better to stick to your guns and continue playing the role of morally ambiguous scientist.

‘Not if the information you give them is valuable,’ Hawks counters with a serious look on his handsome face. He looks over at the news reporter rambling from your TV, probably jealous that they were able to talk so freely while he was reduced to passing notes with someone he cared about. He looks back down at the paper and adds, ‘You can give them my real name.’

Upon reading the words, something inside you suddenly snapped, and you fight off the urge to ball up the paper and chuck it at your boyfriend’s head. When you’d first asked him about his name, he’d insisted that ‘Hawks’ was his real name. He’d never explicitly told you that he’d lied back then, but he’d dropped plenty of not-so-subtle hints for you to figure it out on your own. So, it wasn’t so much the reveal that rubbed you the wrong way as it was the timing of it. You pull the paper towards you and pick up the pen.

‘Absolutely not!’ You write and then underline it twice before throwing the pen back down. Hawks looked shocked at your little outburst and slides the paper closer to himself to simply draw a question mark.

A sigh escapes your lips as you study the confusion in his golden eyes. Perhaps it had been a bit of an overreaction. Both you and Hawks had been so careful and logical about everything for so long that there was a certain intimacy missing in the relationship. You had been trying to cope with that fact as best you can, but something about learning his name this way hit you a little differently.

‘Sorry.’ You write the words slowly. ‘I don’t like the idea of finally learning your name just so that I can hand it over to Dabi.’ It made you feel vulnerable to make such a confession because it wasn’t like you to let your personal feelings affect your behavior so strongly. You wanted to be honest with him though, so that the lines of communication between you could be as open as possible.

Hawks reads over your words, features morphing from surprise into sadness as comprehension dawns on him. He meets your gaze before reaching out and pulling you firmly against him. You weren’t sure what to make of the reaction but you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest.

“I never thought of it that way,” Hawks mumbles awkwardly and refuses to let you go for a moment. “You’re right though. It’s not fair.”

You push away from him to look at his face, feeling surprised that he’d even risk saying that out loud. It could probably be passed off as a comment about whatever the news reporter was still ranting about, but you put a finger to his lips to silence him anyway.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your skin.

“Shh!” You reprimand him before taking your finger away and replacing it with your lips, pressing a kiss to his mouth to show him everything was all right and that you weren’t upset with him. He relaxes right away and warps his arms more tightly around you to hold you closer. You had to pull away after a moment though because your time together was limited, and you’d yet to agree on a solution to your problem.

“I love you,” he tells you with a longing in his eyes that told you he hated the current situation just as much as you did.

“I love you too, bird-kun.” You smile while taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. He glances back down at the paper on the table and picks up the pen begrudgingly.

‘I’ll think of something else for you to tell him.’ He meets your eyes to see how you’d respond and is once again disappointed when you shake your head.

‘I won’t be the one to give him anything he can use against you.’ You write your reply.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he smiles sadly before jotting down his response.

‘If you don’t cooperate, your life will be in danger once Shigaraki wakes up.’

Seeing the truth once again so plainly spelled out gave you pause, but you were determined to stick to the original plan the two of you had agreed to along with the Hero Commission.

‘That’s why we’re going to make sure to end this before that even happens.’ You scribble down the reply before clicking the pen closed. Hawks understood then that you weren’t going to be changing your mind. He sighs quietly and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Ok,” he tells you while glancing at the TV again to check the time. “I have to get back to my patrol soon.”

“I know,” you lean in and kiss him again on the cheek. “I wish we had more time.”

“Can I stop by after you get back from the lab?” he asks although he already knew your schedule.

“Sorry,” you frown. “I’ll be there late tonight. It would be better if you stop by in the morning.”

Hawks grimaced at the thought of you spending so many hours watching over Shigaraki’s unconscious body, but it was at least a little better than being involved with a fully awake Dabi. It was going to be so important for the Heroes to find a way to stop the villains before Shigaraki woke up. More lives than just your own would be in danger if they failed. You trusted Hawks though, and knew he and the commission would do everything they could to prevent the worst case scenario.

“You bet,” Hawks stands up from the couch and stretches his arms and wings as much as he could to prepare himself for his patrol. “Send me a text when you’re awake and I’ll bring coffee.”

“That would be much appreciated,” you smile as you watch him go to the door and pull on his boots and flight jacket. He gives you another quick peck on the lips, says his goodbyes, and before you know it he’s taking off into the sky.

#Hawks x Reader #Keigo Takami x Reader #Bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks #keigo takami #bnha #mha #Cindy's Writing

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wickxdangels · 4 years

Text

Travis Stoll Imagine; Dream Girl

Hello!! We are back this Monday with a Percy Jackson Imagine! I started reading the series last week and i’m currently on the third book which is so exciting! I love the Stoll brothers so making this imagine was so fun! i hope you guys like it! :) As always, I apologize if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know! And also, thank you everyone for the support and the cute comments i’ve been getting on my other stories! I love you all xx (also, sorry i couldn’t find a better pic to place)

Pairing; Travis Stoll x Reader

Warnings; None

Request; Would write a Travis Stoll x reader who is daughter of Ares who’s Clarisse’s second in command/best friend even though they’re opposite personalities and Connor is so sick of Travis’ pining for her that he decides to get them together?

It was a bright, hot and sunny day in Camp Half-Blood; the satyrs were running in the woods playing hide and seek with the dryads, who turned into trees whenever they tried to steal a kiss from them. Young demigods runnings through the camp wearing those bright-eye-cramping orange shirts, some of the kids from the Hermes Cabin were picking up the locks from the Camp Gift Shop. It was pretty much a normal summer day like any other.

Y/n was sitting down on top of a wooden-table, cleaning and filing her sword, it was something she found relaxing and it helped to calm down her ADHD for a bit. Mid-cleaning, she felt a pair of eyes staring into her. This has probably been the fifth time she has felt it in this week alone. She quickly looked up, not finding anyone on reach staring at her, it was infuriating not knowing who those stares belonged to but she brushed it off, it was stupid to get mad at something childish like that.

“Attention, attention, campers.” The voice of Mr. D, the camp director, said as he walked close by to the campers. Lots of them stop what they were doing to look at the news he was about to say. “Today we will be playing Capture The Flag, in about two hours or so, you all know what to do, gear up and blah blah..” That earned the cheers of lots of campers, and Mr. D with a quick a wave of his hand he dismissed them as he kept walking towards the Big House, to play some pinocle perhaps, as he complained how teenagers were always so loud.

Y/n then kept filing her sword as a blonde haired and all girl walked towards her, Clarisse La Rue, her half-sister. “Did you hear that? We’ll finally get to have another reason to beat up some kids and get back our flag from the Blue team!” The girl exclaimed with a sinister smile on her lips.

Y/n simply chuckled at her words and nodded. “Indeed, sis. It’s been too long since the last time we played, that flag needs to be back on Ares’s Team.” she said as she blew on her sword, grinning at her sister as she nodded.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat before the game, my stomach is killing me.” Clarisse said as Y/n tagged alone.

Y/n and Clarisse were both daughters of Ares, god of war. They belonged to Cabin 5, where lots of her other half-brothers lived year-round just like both of them. Ares kids shared lots of physical attributes, like their muscular bodies and tall height, meaning all of them looked big and scary, a good pro when it came to war or simple games like the one they were about to play. But when it came to personality, both girls couldn’t be more different.

Clarisse was the designated Camp Half-Blood bully, she was the one that messed with the new campers, just like she did with Percy Jackson. She would find the tiniest of reasons to start a riot and just set the world on fire if she could, just like their father.

Y/n on the other hand, was a bit more calm. Or well, as calm as a daughter of Ares could get. She enjoyed battles, she enjoyed kicking butt from here and there but sometimes she would just get tired of the same old. She wouldn’t pick fights as much as Clarisse did, well, not now anyways. But whenever her sister needed a fighting partner she would be there without a doubt, not giving a damn who started the fight, simply being there to put up a good show.

Some feet away, behind a tree was Travis Stoll, whose favorite hobby has radically changed from picking-up locks or throwing the best pranks in camp with his brother, to spying on Y/n behind trees…or behind anything really. He saw as the girl of his dreams walked away with his most-hated-camper, who was no one else but her sister, Clarisse.

“I really can’t believe you’re still secretly pinning over her, Travis! It’s been what? Four, five years? Don’t you think it’s time to act like a big boy and tell her for once and for all?” His younger brother’s voice made him jump from his hiding spot as he turned around to face him.

“Connor! Do you have to be that loud all the time?” He cried out, grabbing his brothers shoulder as they walked out of the forests and towards their cabin. “And you know I cannot do that, she’s literally my archenemy’s sister! And best friend! Also, not to forget about her dozen of brothers with anger-issues!” Travis complained, sighing as he kicked a little rock that was in his way. “I don’t know why life has to be so hard!”

“Travis, shut up. Jeez, you’re always complaining, it’s been five years! Five of which I had to hear you whining about Clarisse and how she would maim you if you were ever to confess your feelings for Y/n…can’t we get over that? I mean, the day will come when she’ll maim you regardless of your confession or not..” His brother shrugged, placing a comforting arm around him. “Also, I have a bet going on with Pollux.. and for me to earn the money means that you’ll have to confess your feelings for her today…” Connor confessed with a grin on his lips, highlighting his elvish features who looked so much like his brother’s.

Travis stopped mid-way as he stared at his brother, a deadly stare to be exact.

“YOU DID WHAT?” He sort-of yelled at him, making his younger brother grimace a bit. “How much did you bet, though?” He slowly asked, bit interested after all, money was money.

“Around twenty drachmas and some hundred bucks..” Connor shrugged as he scratched the back of his neck. “Is that an ‘okay brother, I’ll make you win the bet’?” He curiously asked with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh, you’re so gonna share that with me. And you’re gonna do my laundry for a month! After all, I don’t know.. I might end up missing a limb..”

“You always love to exaggerate, Travis. Chill, things might turn good.” He shrugged at his older brother as he raised both of his eyebrows in a funny manner.

Two hours later, after getting something to eat and putting on their armors, the Ares cabin walked towards the centre of the camp, there the rest of their allies, Cabins Four, Nine, Ten and Twelve were already in position and armed with their respective weapons of choice.

The blue team stood on their left side, she could’ve sworn she felt the usual stare again and she just knew it came from the blue team. At least she was a bit closer to knowing who her stalker is.

“Attention Campers, let’s get this over with.” Mr. D’s voice resounded through the crowd, besides him stood Chiron, who acted as the referee and was there in case anyone needed medical help. “For tonight’s game of Capture The flag, the blue team is lead by Annabeth and Percy, who have allied with Cabins Seven and Eleven.” He rolled his eyes as he then proceeded. “And Team Red is led by Clarisse and Y/n, who are joined by the remaining cabins.” He was too lazy to mention all of the cabins but it was no surprise coming from him. “You all know the rules by now, the creek is the boundary line, and the entire forest is fair game. Magic items are permitted, killing and maiming—much to my regret—are not.” He sighed as he tiredly placed his hands on his waist.

“I’ll be close by in case anyone is in need of my assistance.” Chiron commented as he looked at the campers in front of him.

“I believe Travis will be needing your assistance later on, Chiron!” Connor joked, making some of their teammates chuckle as Travis could only blush at the statement, he looked towards Y/n, hoping she wasn’t staring at him now, but much to his luck, she was chuckling along with Clarisse who had a deadly stare at him, making him shriver.

“Yeah, yeah. Well kids, off you go now! Shoo!” Mr. D said as he waved his hands, both of the teams were now running towards the forest and the hills.

The Ares cabin took the lead of the rest of the cabins as they ran towards their different positions, some of them were on border patrol duty as other were hiding behind bushes or trees, waiting for the other campers to come by so they could jump on them.

“Y/n, guard our flag! I’ll try to steal theirs!” Clarisse grinned as she ran off towards the lake, Y/n could only chuckle as she grabbed tightly on her sword and ran towards their red flag, ready to fight anyone who came in sight.

As she ran towards the forest, she could see her brothers fighting with the other campers, or well, the enemies. Her battle reflexes came in handy when someone was about to jump on her but she swiftly avoided her, bringing her sword up as she fought a blonde-haired girl from the Athena cabin, quickly disarming her before sending her flying backwards towards a tree with a hard kick on the chest. She’ll definitely be needing some ambrosia after this, she thought.

She chuckled as she kept running, she had missed the feeling of the air hitting in her face as she ran, the way her instincts would work whenever someone was attacking her, the balanced weight of her favorite sword in her hand.

One of the guys from the Apollo cabin came after her, making her chuckle when she easily avoided one of their arrows as it landed on a tree. “That wasn’t very smart, was it?” She asked with a smirk as she then ran towards him and before he could take another arrow, she kicked the bow out of his hands. “Bad choice.” She said before bringing the sword up, the kid was quick to avoid a hit before he tripped backwards on a branch, she was about to keep fighting as one of her brothers came to her.

“I’ve got this punk! Go protect the flag!” Her brother said before she nodded and smirked at the kid.

“Well, you’re just in luck!” She winked at him before running through the forest once again, making sure to avoid any distractions on the way.

Her feet were fast as she ran, ducking whenever she saw an arrow being shot at her and jumping whenever she would meet with a camper passed out on the floor, not many minutes later and the flag was already in her sight, she came closer to it, checking her surroundings for any enemy in sight.

Not many seconds had passed when she heard some steps coming on her way, she quickly jumped on top of a tree branch hiding, she saw as a guy came close to the flag but did not grab it, instead he looked around as if searching for someone.

She then took the advantage and jumped on top of him, making him land with his back on the floor as she had him trapped between her legs. “Huh, a son of Hermes. I thought it would be one of Athena’s kid the one who would come for the flag.” She said as she brought her sword up to his face, he looked just like every other Hermes’s kid, elvish features, curly hair, tall and kind of cute.

“No! Wait! I’m not here for the flag..” He confessed, having her so close to his body made him shriver, luckily his face was already red from the game if not he would be blushing madly.

“You are aware that we are playing Capture The Flag, don’t you?” She chuckled as she stared at him, her eyes looking directly into his blue ones as he felt the shiest he has ever felt in his life.

“Y-yes, yes! What I meant it’s that, I’ve been meaning to confess you something..” He said as she stood up, holding a hand out for him as he slowly grabbed it, she pulled and helped him stand up.

“Okay, now you’re kind of creeping me out, Travis.. What is it?”

“How.. how do you know who I am?” He asked, kind of surprised she didn’t mistake him for his brother, which happened quite a lot.

“We were friends, remember? When I first got here, you were one of that befriended me. I stayed in your cabin for some weeks before Ares claimed me. We used to play pranks on the Aphrodite kids so much that you thought I was one of Hermes kid’s as well.” She said chuckling as he nodded, he remember those times. That was the time when he started to develop his current huge crush on her.

“I.. I didn’t know you remembered that.” He gave her a bright smile as he scratched the back of his neck in a shy manner, something she thought she had never seen before on any kid of Hermes.

“Of course, I do! Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“Oh! That! Well, you see—” sadly he was too slow and too immersed on their chat that he did not see Clarisse flying at him, knocking him off his feet as they rolled down on the floor.

“It was you!” Clarisse yelled as she threw some punches at him, he luckily evaded some but not all of them, so he groaned when she had delivered a square punch to his right eye.

Now that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise, he thought.

“Clarisse! What are you doing? He was gonna say something to me!” Y/n said as she ran towards them, trying to pull her sister off of him.

“It’s him, y/n! He’s the one who’s been lurking behind trees and staring at you!” Clarisse said with disgust as she stood up from top of him, delivering nasty glances at Travis.

“Oh.. so you’re my little stalker, huh?” Y/n said with a smirk on her lips as she looked at Travis, helping him stand as he slowly nodded, grabbing onto his side as he looked embarrassed.

“Okay, I’ll have to say that that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.. but yeah. It was me.” He confessed to her, giving her a little smile as she stared at him. “And besides that, what I wanted to say it’s that… I like you, like, a lot.” he said. “A crazy amount probably, and I know you may not like me back! Knowing that I’m your sister’s most hated person in this camp besides my brother.. and Percy..” he explained

“This is disgusting! Completely disgusting!” Clarisse gagged at the scene in front of her, she has always disliked the Stoll brothers even more after the little prank they pulled on her few years ago.

“I.. I’m quite shocked, actually.” she confessed, her cheeks tinting a light red but when she was about to actually reply to him, she saw how another figure behind Clarisse and Travis took the chance of the flag being unprotected and quickly snatched it.

In the background, all could hear a horn being played in signal that the game has finished.

The result? Blue team were the winners, once again.

It turns out that, Travis’s younger brother Connor, knowing that he was going to confess his feelings towards Y/n, seized the opportunity of us being entertained by his brother’s confession to grab the flag, it was all part of his plan.

Which helped to ignite even more, the hatred Clarisse had towards the Stoll brothers.

The whole game ended up quite quickly after that, with the campers of the blue team cheering for their new victory and the red team growling at them and cursing them out.

Y/n never had the chance to talk to Travis in that moment, seeing how Chiron with other campers, took the injured ones towards the infirmary to help with the wounds.

That’s when Y/n knew it was now or never. She escaped from the celebrations of the night, walking towards the infirmary to check on the wounded Stoll brother. She walked through it, looking at some of the demigods sleeping on the beds and other being taken care by Argus and some dryads. Once he saw the familiar curly hair, she walked towards it, grabbing a pack of ice a girl was carrying towards him. “I can take it from here.” she explained to the girl as she just nodded and left.

She then walked to his bed, sitting down at the edge of it and softly pressing the ice pack on his already-bruised eye. “Who knew.. that purple eye really suits you.” she softly spoke, waking up the prankster from his nap.

“Y/n? What are you doing here?” he asked as he quickly sat up, groaning from the pain as he realized it wasn’t a good idea after all with his bruised ribs.

“Clarisse really did a number on you, didn’t she?” the girl said as she softly helped him to lay down once again, slowly. “I’m sorry about that, she can be easily carried away by her emotions.”

“I really can’t believe you two are sisters, you two are nothing alike.” he said, wincing as he laid down. “You’re gentle and understanding, meanwhile Clarisse would throw a punch at literally anyone who crosses her path.”

“Well, that’s because I have never really fought with you, you know? When we are in battle, that’s when we are scary alike.” she chuckled, holding the ice pack on his eye as they talked. “So.. I never really replied to what you said to me back there.”

“You don’t really have to. I know it must’ve been silly, I just couldn’t really hold it in anymore, you know? You’re so beautiful and so strong! And you love pulling pranks on people, which is so hot! And whenever you’re fighting you’ve got this beautiful frown that—”

“Could you shut up for a second?” she said quickly before a smirk appeared on her lips. “I know I’m hot and all of that, but I just really wanted to say that… I think you’re really cute.” her smirk turned into a smile at him as she looked at him, he could’ve sworn his insides were on fire, which could’ve been due to the punches he’d got but he knew it was because of her smile. “And I would like to see where this could go..”

“Wait! You’re serious, right? This is not a prank, right? Cause that wouldn’t be so hot..” He explained making her giggle. “It’s not a prank, you dummy!” she interrupted him. “I like you, like, a lot.” she smiled, saying the exact words he had said to her back in the forest.

“Oh! Wow! I— I really, don’t know what to say! Jeez, I think I’m blushing again!” Travis confessed with his cheeks flaming red as he looked at her.

“Shh, don’t talk.. Less words and more…actions.” she smirked before laying the ice pack on the bed and slowly leaning her face against his, until their lips were touched; she was careful to grab his cheek, not wanting to hurt his purple eye as he returned the soft kiss she laid on his lips.

It was all he ever dreamed, kissing her felt like drinking ambrosia, her lips tasted so sweet. His stomach felt like the excitement he would get before pulling any prank, multiplied by a hundred. He just knew that this was it. This was all he ever wished for. This was the girl of his dreams.

That was it, until a wave or realization fell over him as she softly pulled away from him. “Oh, gods! now Clarisse is so going to murder me!”

That only made her laugh even more. “Leave her to me, she’s really not that scary, I promise.” she assured him. “Now, what did I say about talking?” she asked.

“Oh! Yes, yes. Less words, more actions, got it!” he smiled mischievously as he then pressed his lips against hers once again.

“Oh, I forgot to ask. What’s the bet Connor has goin on with Pollux about?” she asked, looking at his eyes for a bit before raising his brow.

“Oh, now you shut up. I’ll explain later, I’m badly injured and I demand more kisses.” he said with the cutest little pout she has ever seen, she rolled her eyes. “It’s just some bruised ribs.. and a bruised eye.” she joked before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him again.

#percy jackson #percy jackson imagine #travis stoll #travis stoll imagine #travis stoll x reader #percy jackson x reader #imagine #fanfic #pjo imagine #pjo #connor stoll #connor stoll x reader #clarisse la rue #demigods #cabin five #camp half-blood #olympians #reader #au

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