#lk's writings | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

defectivefanboy · 1 year

Note

hey i’m just asking maybe could you do dating head canons for crimson from helluva boss? nsfw or sfw i don’t mind <33

Absolutely. I love how the fandom is already down bad for mafia man.

hey i’m just asking maybe could you do dating head canons for crimson from helluva boss? nsfw or sfw i don’t mind <;33

Overall notes: Stories written on this blog are GN until specified. While this story uses they/them pronouns, and I don't mind female readers on my blog, I do not write for y'all, and if you are a fetishizer fuck off????????????????? ew.

C/W: Possible OOC, Mentions of kidnap, abuse, torture, murder, death threats, mentions of sexual assault, cursing, spoilers (duh)

Notes: I tried making it as close to mafia man without him just beating you low-key /j, the first part of this I made into a small story without realizing, I hope that alright. Just some build up to it. <3

SFW

Prior to the relationship

"Earth Hell Angel"

Let's ignore the fact he would probably, most definitely never come into contact with any of us. Point blank.

You would have to be making some kind of deal with the Knolastname family, born into riches, or work for him. (I have stories for each in my head)

But let's tinker with the process shall we

The way you two met was by young Moxxie

You were a musician playing at one of the very few operating clubs in greed, operating meaning wasn't just a front for something else.

Moxxie was a teen at the time and being a teen felt a little rebellious. Like of course who wouldn't rebel against their mafia father.

Only issue was, Moxxie was in the middle of a mission when he decided to rebel leaving his father's men to find him in a club listening to a singer.

Crimson was just gonna burn the place down, maybe this time Moxxie would learn to not fuck with him anymore, but he wanted it to run deeper.

He wanted to kidnap who ever the singer was and torture them in front of the young imp to properly ingrain the lesson into him.

What he didn't expect was to be seated at a table each passing night, lit cigar in hand as he waited for the performer of the night.

It slowly became routine for him, and he slowly become your top patron. Enough to were you didn't need to preform so much.

That was until you met a bright eye imp with a tune for music...

And his devilish father

The young imp for express his passion for music, which you could only respond with the same enthusiasm, if It wasn't for the menacing eyes scanning over your body as he whispered to the shark behind him, eyes never leaving you.

This went on for months, moxxie would come and talk to you after shows and show you some songs he made. Though it wasn't just Moxxie paying you visits.

If it wasn't moxxie in your dressing room after a show, the older Knolastname would take his stay.

He often made snide remakes on working in, as he would say, "The only place where even the roaches don't wanna go" while he made himself comfy on the couch in the room.

Originally he had body guards posted around the room, outside the door, and around the outside of the building.

But that ended when one of his men tried to make a move on you while he was on the phone.

Oh boy the look on his face when he came back into the room and saw you being held down by one of the guards.

He doesn't know why, but when he saw the scared look on your face, a silent plea for help was all it took for a whole new line of guards to be instated.

"One bad apple can rot the rest. So its only best he gets rid of them all right?"

He was gonna need a LOT more walls in his home for plaques.

From there on out the only people that were allow in your room were him, Moxxie, oh and him, did he forget to mention that handsome imp right there? yeah him, oh wait thats him, whoops.

It became routine, well, as much as mafia work can be routine.

Each week he'll ask you when you're preforming, then not respond to any other text or conversation after that, because why would he? That's not what he's asking for.

Don't worry though, he still actively listens and pays attention, even making mental notes here and there on some things, but nothing else matters.

He's just going through his mental calendar of the week to make time for each show. <3

And if he's unable to make it, he'll either send Moxxie or a goon with a stack of money to make up

Though half of it just goes to the person who delivers it, you tried sending it back once and the poor goon had to walk back to the club with a bullet in each knee

Soon after moxxie was the only one allowed half the money

He found out the goons were given half the money and were made to give it back, half alive of course.

Dating Crimson

This old man only realized he liked you when he was in an argument with Moxxie.

Moxxie had a date with chez, but Crimson wanted to send him to the club with yet another stack of money.

"Sir, this is the third time you sent them money today. I think they are well off for the night."

"I didn't call you here to think, boy, I called you here to go to that club. I don't want to repeat myself."

"Well, sir, I don't think sending your son with a stack of money is gonna win their love."

The air grew still in the room as silence over took them

"Get out."

Moxxie needn't think twice with that one, as he raced off to his fishy lover (pun intended)

Jesus and thats just before the relationship, I couldn't even imagine what it would be like to date him. (yes I can thats why im here, albeit VERY OOC cough you're not abused cough)

When this man finally has you in his grasp, I hope you don't like traveling far.

He is a possessive lover, like Possessive lover with a capital p.

As much as he hates it, he'll allow you to play at the club, it's not like he owns it or anything.

He does, he bought it awhile ago when he overheard how your boss talked to you. good to not he's not missing... side eye

Oddly enough (I say as I write) he's very touch starved.

He is very handsy the moment you allow him to be, a hand is always on you, if you're not already held close to his side.

"What are you talking about? I keep you close to me so you don't get lost. Can't have you winding up in an unsavory deal down here."

His favorite thing to do is come into your dressing room and hug you from behind as you get ready in the mirror.

Face buried in your neck as his body slumps and his tail wraps tightly around your leg.

Only looking up when your hand runs through his hair and you let out a light giggle, a soft glare pointed at you through the mirror.

Another has to be when you're sitting on his lap in your dressing room, music playing in the background as you softly sing the words to him while you chart your hands through his hair

Crimson never cared for music, to much of a sinner thing for him, mostly because he did business with other hell-born and never interacted with them, but he could appreciate it a bit if you came along with it

Especially when you give him that look, one that would carry the seven rings of hell alone, and it was all for him.

God, he would lock you up away from all of hell in an instant if you let him.

He actually tried once, though it went over quite quickly when you threaten to no longer give him kisses or attention in general, he surprising backed down quickly.

Though his next statement was for you to move in with Moxxie and him. No, not a question, Yes, a statement.

Your belongs had already been moved while you had this conversation. Hope you don't mind.

Oh Oh OH did this make Crimson happy. The first morning he felt a warm body wrapped in his arms, he dug his face deeper into the source.

He could call off his meetings for the day, not like they could do much about it.

Not when he has what he wants right in front of him.

He may never encounter an angel from heaven, but why would he need to, he had his own right here.

Crimson only truly realized this when you barged into his office one night, grumbling incoherent insults carrying a plate of food in your hand.

"You know for someone who gets on me for not eating right you always take it above and beyond."

placing the food on his desk you pull a chair around and sat next to him reaching into your pocket.

"I hope you're not planning on killing me, darling."

"You have a headache, don't you?" "huh?"

"You've been at work for over a day, you gotta have one by now."

Placing a bottle of pain killers on the desk you picked up the fork and softly blew on it to cool it down, before bringing it to his mouth.

Yeah, he could get use to this, he could get really use to this.

And yeah he may not be his son's biggest supporter, but when he sees Moxxie and you gushing over whatever nonsense that came to mind, his home no longer felt as cold like it once did.

NSFW

C/W: Marks, Degrading, Collars, Choking, Smoking,

Did I mention he was a possessive lover? Because he's also a jealous lover, and it tends to end with a few REALLY obvious marks on your body

From the dark and almost concerning hicks that adorn your neck, to the red and angry claw marks that riddle your thighs, the guest started to wonder if you were mauled by a bear.

or a cannibal... Say, did he sound like a radio host?

He doesn't even want you looking at anyone else and if he found out anyone was trying to be with you it would mean their head was mounted on the wall

and yours was planted in the bed... <3

"To think we would go through this again, it's almost as if you want to be treated like a dog"

Mind you he's still an old timer, he isn't one for anything fancy. Aka: you brought up toys in bed and he got a little too jealous at the thought of you cumming from something that wasn't him

"Saying I don't fuck you well enough? That's funny, because if I do recall, your pretty little head was cock drunk before I even did anything, or are you just that much a whore that you need more then one?"

The thought of getting an Ozzie's Mold your own Cock kit did pass his mind once or twice.

Remember how I said he was handsy, I don't know it's because he's a murderer or not, but I do see him being very fond of choking.

It reminds him of a collar in a sense, getting you one has passed his mind too

You would wear it for him right? At least when you two are alone? Just for a bit.

Long enough that he can take some photos of your blissed out face saving it for later, as the metal tag shines slowly with each rise of your chest.

But in all honesty his hand looks much better wrapped around your neck as he ruts into you from behind, growling in your ear as his grip tightens.

Crimson is literally the definition of Grr, bark and growl, and they all happen at once.

It started out with a low growl from him as you talked to a male coworker, soon it turned to him barking orders at you to get on your knees in your dressing room.

What? It's your fault you decided to talk with that low life. He should be rewarded for letting him walk away with half his vision.

I must say though, the old school charm does such wonders.

Especially on date nights <3

He may have already been in your pants, he still goes out of his way to treat it like it's the first time.

Compliments thrown your way as he pours you a glass of wine, all of it over looked by a sneaky tail trailing its way between your legs in the middle of dinner.

You ARE at Ozzie's after all

Those nights end up with you slowly riding him, his hand on your jaw to keep you looking at him.

"Something the matter dear? Do you need help finishing? Just ride me a bit more, yeah? You've been doing so good for me."

Crimson's strong suit... is definitely not his praise, but he does pick up on the small noises and movements you make each time he does.

Yet, he saves it for those soft and affectionate nights. He's still a mafia man at heart, but hey, he's coming around.

One last thing that will set this imp off is you smoking, as random as it may seem. Be it weed, a cigarette, shit, even one of his cigars, his lips(?) are on yours inhaling the smoke you exhale.

You did mention a band named cigarettes after sex at point. Why not put it into action.

Talking about after sex.........

He's fucking terrible at after care. You would be lying through your teeth if you said he was.

He's gotten better after a few months, few meaning over half a year. He's gotten better at least?

It's not everyday a Mob lord is on his knees cleaning up after himself, or running to fetch a glass of water.

Though he makes it up with more trips to the lust ring~

He can't help it, they have the best clubs in all of hell <3

“I never learned to like something, darling. I only let it consume me.”

#foolish writing #request #helluva boss #helluva boss crimson #crimson x reader #crimson x male reader #crimson x female reader #vivziepop #I story on which he is just beating on you is LK funny to me #thats as canon as you could ever get #request open

458 notes · View notes

lockandkeynovel · 9 months

Text

Milo Sullivan’s Dossier File

Oh? Mr. Gardiner’s roommate you say?

Bio:

Milo Sullivan grew up in a troubled home within the Moon District, not far from the Capital. He spent the first seven years of his adult life in the Royal Service Academy in an attempt to make something of himself, trying to separate from his difficult past.

After spending seven years hearing his roommate at the Academy, Silas Gardiner, talk about how wonderful the Moonlight Kingdom was, he decided to request the Étoile Royal Estate for his permanent assignment.

Seeing how well the two complimented each other, and with his daughters safety being of the utmost importance, King Henry Étoile brought them both on to be Princess Selene’s personal security detail; a job in which they both take great pride.

Thanks for help naming them guys, I love them 🥺

#lk #lk novel #lock and key #lock and key novel #creative writing #my writing #original fiction #writer #writers on tumblr #writing #Milo Sullivan lock and key #Milo Sullivan lk

55 notes · View notes

onlymingyus · 1 year

Note

Just thinking about mingyu pouting and throwing a fit about you having to run some errands or work or something that makes you leave the house because even though he fucked you good and hard last night over several rounds, he's insatiable and you didn't even kiss him good bye before you left :(

How dare you! (meanwhile he was snoozing and snoring deeply like a log, it's a wonder you were even able to get out of bed and walk without limping too much but he'd never admit that he was sleeping that soundly)

Anyways! He's gonna be insufferable, sending you filthy texts of what he's going to do with you when you get back. Maybe even a well-taken snapshot of his leaking cock that is just as addicted to your warmth as he is. Bonus pics with a pair of your panties he's messed up already with stains of his release. He messages you so much, you're all worked up and maybe even a bit mad (not bc of your ruined panties bc he does it ALL the time) but because you had things to do! It's not your fault! How dare he tease you!

You want to teach him a lesson right away when you step in the door, a sharp glint in your eye as he approaches like a puppy that knows they've missed behave. It's quickly snuffed out when he grabs your chin with his large hand, a devious smile on his pretty lips before he's throwing you on the closest piece of furniture - ass up - and teaches you the lesson to never leave without at least a good bye kiss 🫶🏼

(I'm pretty sure you know who this is heh :3 🧡 love u merp, have a good week)

WHAT IS LITERALLY WRONG WITH YOU????

I need you to understand this was an act of war. There will be retaliation.

ALL OF THAT! ALL THAT VISUAL! THE WAY I WANT ALL OF THIS AND THENNNNNN you hit me>?fdas WITH ???

You might as well have said "TEE HEE!"

#mars.answers #ANON #a disrespectful ANON #elp #i am #fkldaj;lk #mingyu thots #mingyu smut #seventeen smut #the way i am going to write the nastiest deekay #he will be dripping

134 notes · View notes

fluffy-lovely-clouds · 2 months

Text

*sighs*

thinking about classics disney movies again

get me out of this hell hole before I do something

#hitting the lowest of lows right now #oh shit oh god no I'm having flashbacks of my lion king phase help me #I need to just write an apology thingy to all those blogs I stalked before making an account that I bothered for lk tk fluff lmfao #sorry to you people I was a loser back then #It's NOT the lion king this time tho lol

11 notes · View notes

melodygatesauthor · 9 months

Text

Lock & Key - Moodboard

This moodboard tells a story...

But what does it say?

#original fiction #lock and key #lock and key novel #lk novel #lk #my writing #writer #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writing #author #fiction author #melody gates author #lock and key poll

25 notes · View notes

kat-xox · 9 months

Text

if you’ve ever asked an author to change something about their fic there is something severely wrong with you

#like i get not liking a hc #or thinking something is severely ooc #but that is their interpretation!#it does not have to be yours #this also applies to the lack of female representation #the times i see authors delve into female chars i always see comments:#more jegulus pls!#we need more wolfstar!#the hypocrisy insane lk #simply read another story #or write your own ffs #marauders #marauders era #harry potter #jegulus #fanfiction #wolfstar

22 notes · View notes

arachnidiots-a · 6 months

Text

i'm never not thinking about peter and liam getting to go absolutely off the rails in a fight. there's something so profoundly irresistible about two rage filled twenty somethings getting to snap and do wrong with every intention of doing right... it's about realizing what they're both capable of and how far they'll go (especially for people they love). let them take off the suits to find their hands have been stained red, let them feel guilt, let them fight and let it be messy and brutal

#i say let them as if im not actively writing them both #i just think... characters should be a little brutal sometimes. they should get to be mad and pissed and it should have consequences #LK. BELIEVE / headcanons #PBP. STILL TURNING OUT / headcanons #dont know if this post counts for headcanons but its something to think about for sure #tw violence #tw blood

13 notes · View notes

astorichan · 1 year

Text

Broken Glass

@mostlydeadallday gave me a prompt: Hollow, I (Hollow, Broken Glass) Hi, I came to play in your sandbox, Elle /wave

Text under the break.

—————————————————————————————————

The vessel followed.

Its place was always to follow, steps adhering to stay behind its superiors and to the right. Absent, in everything but its imposing stature. Silent, in everything but obeying the orders given.

It was not following its Creator, not anymore—for He was gone, well and truly consumed by the bottomless maw with no fangs that the Void was. It was not following Hornet, either—for she was not present, promising to catch up later.

The sound of rain had become familiar to it, a perpetual noise underlining its existence, though the drumming on its mask was a much kinder one than what it knew from the Radiance. It was cool, gentle kisses on the white bone, seeping into the ugly crack that ran over its right eye. It was a background hum, streaming down broken, cracked stone and shattered glass windows, splattering at the vessel’s feet as it moved.

The capitol had been dubbed the City of Tears, Ogrim had told it. Back when the last remnants of the capitol's denizens fell to the infection and there was no one left to repair the leaks in the cavern's ceiling. Back when the vessel’s failure had become absolute, carrying away with itself the last chances of Hallownest’s survival.

It remembered the city in its prime—silver gleam like the tender touches of His light, spires stretching up to eternity and massive oval windows like eyes that stared into its very soul. Now, both the city and the vessel were but relics of an age long since gone by, stubborn stains on the face of the world.

Void could not be washed out once it'd tarnished a surface, and the vessel was no different—a failure given the chance that it had never deserved.

Ogrim had promised to show it something, to try and somehow change its mind. What the vessel saw around itself, though—destruction, the city clawed apart by the Radiance's light just like its own shell was, decay, moss and sewer water eating through stone like Her rot had through its Void—failed to make it reconsider.

The narrow streets and passages twisted into each other in a spiral of entropy that should've made sense to the vessel, for it had visited the city several times before. It did not, its memories carefully incised by the Old Light, her golden engravings a stark contrast to the still persisting silver carvings in its shell.

It recognised the passage of time only by the merit of its shell sending demanding reminders of its injuries, telling it time after time that never would it be as close to perfection as it had once been.

That had brought it nowhere. That was never enough.

The surroundings changed, Ogrim leading it to a larger, more spacious cavern that it recalled, rather painstakingly, to be the capitol's central square.

A large, gaping emptiness greeted it—not a single survivor, not a single living bug was there now. It echoed, refracting the same sensation in the vessel’s chest, growing stronger with every step.

Its back throbbed. Its mask sagged down, an involuntary impulse that it was too exhausted to hide, just another proof of its inadequacy—as though Ogrim needed any more, with how battered it was when he'd first seen it after its unearned release from the Temple.

He stopped. The vessel copied the motion, silently grateful, incapable of stifling the pitiful warmth that settled heavy into its thorax. He looked up, and the vessel did the same, for it was here to be shown– something. Up its eyes climbed, beyond Ogrim’s round form, the understanding seeping slowly in like poison. It froze only once two narrow, slit at the corners, eyes looked back at it.

The pitter-patter of the rain grew farther away from it. The crack in its mask seared with every drop that landed on it and ran down the ragged edges. That same rain streamed down the same mask made of stone, the statue a warped mirror of its current state. Or was the vessel a distorted reflection of the monument, perhaps?

Liquid gathered in the vessel’s eyeholes as it stared, head raised up. Its inanimate counterpart's eyes were also weeping, rivulets welling and pouring down, down, down.

City of Tears. A mangled remnant lost in a time it never belonged to, and the statue was no less of a mockery.

"A memorial to you, friend," Ogrim spoke somewhere to the vessel’s left, voicing the forbidden thought that threatened to form in its mind.

"I am sorry. For not seeing, for choosing to ignore, for putting the entire world onto your shoulders." He fell silent after those words, and the vessel felt his claws come into contact with its back. Gentle, as though it was made of porcelain and would break upon the slightest touch.

Something within it keened, a soft and pathetic sound that it had no way of making in truth—it was grateful for that, too, for Ogrim needed not know just how far it had fallen, just how much its Void twisted and writhed within, pushing on the confines of carapace and sigil like never before. Even when its shade had been begging for release it had not felt like this, chitin creaking under the pressure and malforming, dissolving at the edges.

A memorial to the vessel. It deserved none, for no liar, no traitor was worthy of commemoration. A monument to a failure, no one left to bear witness to the irony. A vestige of an era bygone standing testament to the vessel’s inadequacy. It was unworthy of remembrance, but maybe remaining in a world shattered by its flaws was judgement enough.

The Pure Vessel chiselled in stone looked back at it, impassive, unflinching, every end that it had ever failed to meet. Its shoulders throbbed, metal melted into chitin by the Radiance reminding it sharply of what it was no longer. Sparks of pain danced on the fingers of its left hand, twining and making their way upwards, another radical difference from the mirage that stood here in front of the vessel.

Why would Ogrim apologise to it? Why would he help it, even, when all that the vessel had done was be proven too defective to carry out its singular task, the one order it'd been given, the one role it'd been created to fit?

He and Hornet both knew of its purpose more intimately than anyone else and yet both of them insisted on keeping it alive and treating it with kindness that it was unworthy of, that they saw it longing for nevertheless. And now it was Ogrim apologising to it, when it should've been the vessel begging for forgiveness that it did not deserve.

There was no one left to rescind the vessel’s title of a knight, for its liege was gone, consumed by the rising tide of the vessel’s failure too. And those remaining, both Ogrim and Hornet—its sister—refused to carry out a judgement, a punishment.

He had nothing to be sorry about, having not wronged the vessel even if it stretched the limits of its impurity and let itself think it was ever wronged at all. The vessel nodded, feeling more water pour out of its eyes and flow down its mask, dripping from the sharp point of it in a macabre imitation of tears.

The vessel’s neck creaked, pain shooting out of it like daggers burrowing deep into its carapace as it raised its head again. It looked at the statue regardless, feeling something tug and pull within its chest as the rain fell and fell and fell without end.

Perhaps it would be washed away if only it stood here long enough, unfaltering, disregarding the ache that built higher and higher with each passing second.

It was interrupted by a soft splash coming from its right, droplets sprinkling its feet in a needlepoint shower of pressure that went out almost immediately but was enough to pull its attention back to its surroundings.

It was Hornet, needle sheathed across her back. The vessel harboured no illusion that her rather unceremonious drop could be unintentional—not when it knew exactly how nimble and graceful a warrior she was.

She sighed as it met her gaze, struggling not to slouch. If knew that it would allow itself to do so, it would not be able to straighten again, brought low by the weight of its flaws dug into and spread wide open by the light.

"It was impossible from the very beginning, Hollow."

Her voice was a reprimand with no true venom to it, a wickedly sharp edge of a nail turned away from the vessel. She clicked her chelicerae together as it gave her no response—something she made clear was now expected of it—a sound that it had learned to recognise as a sign of deep thought or, at times, displeasure. It stayed frozen in place.

If it were to wish at all, it would wish to be swept away and not left behind like shards of broken glass, drawing haemolymph of anyone unfortunate enough to come too close. Unable, the vessel was unable to give Hornet what she so desired, to fulfil a new role bestowed upon it.

Yet, it longed for her to stay, to extend but one more offer of kindness, but one more impossibly gentle touch to its mask and let it press back into her hands, Void writhing pitifully underneath its carapace-

"You two should go back inside. There is nothing more to be found in this ruin, and you are soaking wet." She did not wait for a reaction, turning on her heels and marching towards an opening that might’ve once been a lift, caved in and collapsed on itself.

The vessel’s claws brushed over the pinpoint scars on its palm, harsh shards out of place on one of the only softer spots on its shell. Every light-eaten patch on its shell pulsed, ache swelling and then releasing with each beat of its heart.

Ogrim moved, glancing back to the vessel with eyes wide and water streaming down his cheeks—tears, maybe for him those were truly tears, shed for a reason that the vessel could not understand no matter how hard it tried.

It followed after Hornet too, then. It was its place to follow, after all.

#toriswriting #prompt game #writing game #is this lk au? is it not? who tf knows?#oneshot #minific i think #hollow knight #hollow knight fanfic #hollow knight fanfiction #hk ogrim #hk hollow #hk thk #hk hornet

28 notes · View notes

arachnidiots · 1 month

Text

arachnidiots on: the duty of care

#woke up and NEEDED to make this #maggie and i got to talking and thinking about the martian so humanity is on my mind #also i was writing a little starter for one of you about helping people #lk. yellow string / musings & aesthetics #pbp. made in nyc / musings & aesthetics #tw twelfth doctor

4 notes · View notes

tearsoftime0086 · 10 months

Text

hi. brainworm is back - here is a drabble about that headcanon of claire and steve dealing with chris's preferred means of escape.

Chris had arrived in a fighter jet – ideal for a “guns blazing” type of scenario, but not so much for the fix they were in now. At least the back tandem seat could fit two, albeit with some tight squeezing.

“Let me know if it’s too cramped back there,” Chris yells as he starts up the jet, “It’ll be several hours before we land in Australia.”

“All good!” Claire shouts back, straightening her spine and sliding forward. Steve is already half collapsed against the back cushion, breath shallow and eyes shut. It’d be better to make as much space for him as possible.

“You can… lean back a little,” he says, eyes fluttering open at the movement. Shoot, she should've been more subtle.

“Sorry for startling you,” she says, looking back. He seems even more exhausted than before – fatigue was likely settling in. It’s strange – throughout their escape, he had been the antsy and energetic half. Now it’s painfully obvious how much this has taken out of him. “But I’m all good. Really.”

He shakes his head. “S’… not enough room,” he murmurs, slurring his words but staring at her with the fiercest insistence he could muster. The teenage stubbornness is endearing, if not hindering his much-needed rest.

“Well, if you’re sure,” she says, manually tilting back a few degrees. After all, it’d help if her center of mass wasn’t so focused on his knees.

There’s a gentle nudge on her shoulder as Steve leans forward, his chin lightly resting on her jacket. Claire realizes it must be an awkward position for both of them, but Steve looks perfectly content in his half-bent state. It’s not the best time or place for it, but it feels nice.

“You’re warm.” His voice is small, vulnerable. She smiles to herself.

His fingers are still deathly cold to the touch, but she draws them over her stomach as she leans further. Steve falls back with her, until his head lies snug between the seat cushion and the crook of her neck. “Better?” she asks, and he hums contentedly.

“Good,” she says, drawing her hands over his own. “No smartass quips about my weight this time?” she adds in good humor, remembering the similar situation with the gun trade back on Rockfort.

Steve breathes out loudly through his nostrils, perhaps in surprise, perhaps in embarrassment. “M’sorry Claire. Shouldn’t have said that.”

She laughs, the sound vibrating against both of their bodies. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispers, brushing her thumb over his knuckles. “Get some sleep. It’ll do you good.”

#resident evil #steve burnside #claire redfield #steve burnside x claire redfield #bits and baubles #is this a direct homage to steve's death scene in og code veronica? yessir #alright new midnight plan is that I start filling out more of the headcanon scenarios and then someday post a fic of snapshots into this au #will this happen? asd;lks who knows #writing #fanfiction #big brain maybe being the only person in my friend circle who knows anything about recv has made me use up all this energy on writing #apologies if there are typos or poor flow - this was all spur of the moment writing #temporary brainworm tag #resident evil fanfiction

11 notes · View notes