#I didn't expect this chapter to get so long.... oop

[meownotgood]

I'm still working on it, but it should be posted later this week!! 🫡

[sinsofnivan]

baser instincts. — ALBERT WESKER x YOU! — SMUT!

SUMMARY: wesker wants a baby. who are you to deny him?

TAGS: overstimulation, oral sex, monster fucking?, tongue fucking, breeding kink, mating press, dumbification, creampies, lots of em, degradation, praise, short aftercare at the end, soft wesker.

WORD COUNT: 2654. oops

A/N: sorry it took me so long!! i actually had trouble writing wesker a little bit. and i also forgot to link the ask, my bad! i drafted a whole ass chapter becaues i didn't think it would be like him. 

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"didn't i tell you to keep your legs spread?"

a sharp pain interrupts your brain-numbing pleasure—-a harsh smack bestowed by none other than your strict lover. you quickly part your legs, as his initial request half an hour ago. "good pet. you need this," he growled, keeping a firm grip on your knee as he began to work on your puffy clit with his tongue again. you're clearly overstimulated and fucked out—but he's yet to stop. you need this, he says. you needed to be fully prepared, completely lubricated so your tight cunt will accommodate his girthy, veiny size.

his tongue, monstrous and almost tendril-like, dotes on your clit, while his fingers curved upward, busying themselves with rubbing against that spongy nub that sent you to heaven. you hold on to his hair, yanking on it harshly as he pumps his fingers in and out of you vigorously. he grunts with a mouthful of pussy, nose practically pressed against the pillowy flesh of your mons whilst his tongue rapidly flicks on your clit. you caught a glimpse of his face when your eyes peer southward. golden brows were narrowed as his gaze was affixed to you; slitted eyes more dilated than usual. wesker groaned, feeling your cunt pulsate against his calloused digits. his knuckles were coated with your sweet, addictive slick, and his nostrils were filled with the scent of you. fuck, it’s addicting. his cock’s too hard against his pants.

“albert i—, i can’t anymoooore,” you whined, hips bucking against his face. his response was what you expected from the male—him picking up the pace and cruelly ramming his fingers knuckles-deep into you. he didn't care if you were sensitive, didn't care if the pleasure was too much. his priorities were elsewhere, getting you prepared for his fat cock.

the moment his lips nicely wrap around your aching clit, you were coming undone; squirting all over his face and soaking everything near him. and wesker? he lapped all of it up, tasting and slurping every bit of you, getting drunk and high on your taste. he hummed in satisfaction, nursing your sensitive clit with slow, gentle suckling sensations, his voice buzzing against your bud. "a, albert—," you sobbed, hips spasming against his face. you're given a chance to finally catch your breath as he pulled his fingers out from your folds. "yes, pet?" 

he ascends back to level with your pretty face, and he prods the same cum-soaked digits against your lips. "you did so well," he cooed, watching you obediently take in his fingers. he muttered a swear, loving how docile you are for him. only for him. "do you think you're ready for my cock, pet?" he quizzed, the pads of his fingers toying with your tongue. it didn't matter if your spit was leaking from the sides of your mouth, he still thought you were the most gorgeous girl.

"i asked you a question, didn't i?"

"y, yesh—'m r , reahdyy, pleasheee—,"

a smile tugged on his lips.

"what was that? i can't understand you."

you whined, petulant. but you knew better. he'd never end his teasing. another garbled plea escapes you. "so pathetic, darling." his tongue cleaned up the dribbling spit. "but only because you asked so nicely," you huffed when he retires from you completely. you miss his warmth, his scent . . . you help him with ridding his pants, unbuckling his belt and fumbling with his pants. the moment he's bare, his hands are back on your body, caressing your curves and everything else that was within range. 

"legs up." he states. you were able to lift them, miraculously, albeit a little wobbly. your cunt comes into full view again—fuck—you swear you see his eyes dilate a little wider. so pretty . . he needed to ravage it. needed to fuck you full 'til you prayed to god. (him.) a thumb runs over your slit, and a glistening, clear string of slick that was neither his spit nor your cum clings on to the pad of his thumb. "fuuck—," he growled, using one hand to push one leg up to your chest, and the other to guide his girth into your slit. "put it in—pleasepleaseplease, put it—!"

a gasp interrupts you as he shoves it with one, harsh snap of his hips. he's so fucking big and thick, you could feel him against your cervix. it's only now he pushes your other leg up to your chest and you swear he sheathes in so much deeper. "breathe, pet. breathe," you didn't even realize you held your breath. you pant, holding on to his arms. "your pussy's so fucking—," he began to move his hips. slow and gentle, at first. "tight. 'nd warm. fuuuuuck—," his eyes rolled back in overwhelming bliss. you're fucking perfect. "hnnnggg—so deep," you watched him. well, tried, to watch him through lidded gaze, but the drag of his cock was so fucking heavenly. rolling your eyes was almost impossible. 

wesker's usually calm and composed—in control of himself. it's a rarity to see him so vulnerable like this, and he doesn't even know what comes over him. but he needed you. needed you stupid and fucked out for him. needed you to writhe under him. his hips pick up its pace, from slow thrusts to harsh, brutal pounding. it didn't take long until the slapping sounds of flesh grew louder, and so did your moans. your nails dig into his skin, branding him with your own unique marks of crescent. he didn't care. not a bit.

"need to—need to breed you," 

he grunts out in between ragged breaths and high-pitched cries, mercilessly ramming as deep as he could into you. you couldn't do anything but lay down and take it like his good pet, cries of his name were the only comprehensible thing that came out of your mouth. "gotta breed you. yeah? you like that, filthy girl?" his body weight replaces the hands that pin your legs down, and you could feel his mouth lapping up on your cheek and on the edge of your lips. your cunt spasms at his words—and you only nod. "u , uh-huh!" was your pathetic response. you didn't know that he could go any faster, but again, wesker always defied the norm of human uniformity.

"yesyesyes—fuck! you're taking my cock s, so well," 

your legs helplessly flail over his shoulders as he continued to use you like his own fleshlight. pleasure blinds you, irises receding back to the pits of your sockets. "only i can use you like this," not like he'd ever let his perfect girl slip from his grasp. "only mine. fucking mine." he makes sure you'll remember it with emphasized, cruel snaps of his hips. "yours! just yours—♡!"  good girl. good fucking girl. do you really think you'll be able to get this pleasure from somebody else? 

he continues to fuck you deep, loving how your cunt made noises that were just as obscene as your mouth did. there was no mistaking the twitching of your cunt, or the familiar pleasure pooling in your tummy. "think 'm close," you whispered so softly, wesker thought he hallucinated it. "think i'm gonna—fuckfuckfuck—albert!" your desperate begging was what confirmed it for him after. 

"go on, pet. cum on my cock."

he cooed before claiming your lips. he didn't shy away from filling your mouth again with his tongue. your eyes widened, cries becoming significantly softer now that his appendage muffled all of it. it's a shame he didn't get to witness it, immersed into tonguefucking that mouth. you gagged, tapping on his arms erratically. you couldn't breathe properly, couldn't even speak—but you were almost—

"mpfhhh!"

you sobbed as an orgasm was ripped from you, spurts of clear liquid squirting out with every push in of his merciless hips. he groaned into your mouth, unable to help himself from spilling his thick and warm cum into you too. just before you could feel yourself pass out, he thankfully retires that inhuman tongue from your throat—and you gasp, taking in a well-deserved lungful. 

"h, haaah . . what a messy girl—,"

he mumbled dumbly against your cheek. even though he came, it's like nothing even happened. his hips continued to rut into you, trying to bully the tip into that perked cervix. "gotta get you knocked up. need you . . need you pregnant," the thought of you and him being a family made him feel things. trigger his lust anew. you would be so gorgeous carrying his child, carrying his last name—and everyone would know that he fucked you and got you all knocked up. he wasn't lying when he said he needed it. 

you're too full—cunt leaking and overflowing with semen—and you can barely think straight. nothing else but just how much you love him and how much his cock split you open. "a, albert—i love . . love you. love you s'much," you cried, and wesker can't help but adore how vulnerable you are. "say it again," he demands, moving his hands to your ass and shoving his cock as deep as he fucking can with the extra push. the leaking crown of his cock finally breaks through protective flesh, and he's so deep in your fucking womb. 

"l , love— i love . . " you can't bring yourself to find the words to say. ever the unmerciful, he only pushed your ass up into his thrusts. "you love . . ?" "you! you! love you, albert!" you cried. it made his stomach turn. "such a good girl," he grunts through gritted teeth. even after his cock throbbed with overstimulation, his hips kept moving. kept slipping in and out of you, fucking you like he didn't just spill his load in you seconds ago.

the hypersensitivity makes him cry out louder than usual, whimpering your name again and again like a prayer. "you'd be such'a good wife. my good wife, all mine. fuck, i love you—," his admittance is practically what sends you over to the edge again, toes curling as you cum again for the nth time for him tonight. it's a pleasurable, burning pain, but you both can't get enough. wesker left open-mouthed kisses on your cheek, tasting the salt of your tears. he didn't mean to make his pretty girl cry . . 

"don't cry, shh . . . j, jus' take it. take it like a g, good wife, darling." it hurts—his tip was so so sensitive, and it didn't help that your cervix cradled it so so nicely but— "fuckfuckfuck—," can't stop. it would hurt to stop fucking you. hurt to stop pummeling that pretty cunt. he needs you like air. he could feel his own spit leaking from the edges of his mouth, but he's too fucked out to compose himself.

by now, it's easier for him to slip in and out from your pussy, his girthy, veiny cock completely lathered up in your slick. there's cream sticking to your skins, somethin' he'd lick clean after. and you? you're seein' stars. can't even rake your fingers down his skin anymore. so properly fucked stupid you can't even register his tongue slithering all over your jawline. 

his hips rut into you without relent, slamming down as deep as he can just to fill you up like a good husband should. "albeeert—," you whined. god, you moaned out his name so sinfully good . . "wanna be bred. wanna be knocked up. please please — love you . . . ♡," oh, you sweet thing. how could he not cum? when you're encouraging him to? when you were practically milking him dry? he convulses with pleasure as he cums. a lot too for a second orgasm. 

and his cum overspills. he's not too pleased about it—and after sloppy, unrhythmic thrusts, he finds himself plunged deep into your cunt, feeling your walls pulsate around him, feeling the sensitive crown of his cock in your cervix. "you're spilling lots." he growled, and you whined. "sorry—sorry . .  " you huffed. only when the rough thrusts ceased did you realize how tired your legs were. "you're wasting all that cum, pet. tsk, tsk." you feel his hold on your rear loosen as he tucked away the strands of hair that littered your face.

your chest heaved, and you finally get to look at his face. he was just as flustered as you are, a few droplets of sweat trickling from his temples, and—fuck, his pupils were blown out with such hunger and carnality. wesker closes the gap between the two of you again—devouring your lips and indulging both you and him in a kiss, albeit sloppy and barely qualified for an actual french kiss. he simply let you suck on his tongue. it was cute. 

even cuter when he began to move his hips brutally and cruelly again, and he could feel you struggle to suck on his tongue after. "mpf! mhhf!" you groaned, can't do anything else but take it like a good pet. a good wife. he grunts, not immune to the pleasure from his own ferality. you whined when he pulled away, trying to chase his lips.

"you're gonna be a good wife—gonna, fuck! gonna get knocked up. right?"

nod, nod. "yes! yes! 'm a good wife! your good w, wife!" 

you didn't question him or your new title, just going with whatever he wanted. you didn't even have half the mind to think. "if . . if you're—if you're a good wife, you're gonna cum on my cock." you huffed. could you even cum anymore? he clicked his tongue when you shook your head. "c, can't." "you can, and you will." he's stern, and so are his thrusts. his hands are back to gripping your curvaceous rear, and rutting into you like there was no tomorrow. it feels so so good! but—you can't. y'can't anymore. how many times have you cum for him tonight?

"c'moooon, pet. squirt on my cock, pretty . . "

wesker ensures that you're pelvic to pelvic, no space spared in that tight cunt. he won't allow it. "i caaan't!" you sobbed. "you fucking will, because i say so." he pants, feeling fatigued in his hips, and feeling another one rising quick. he whined, railing that creampied cunt, rearranging your fucking guts. "gonna be knocked up . . be bred," he grunts. thinkin' about being creampied again makes you feel so tingly. "right? right, darling?" "uh-huh! uh-huh . . ♡," 

with how harsh and how fast he was pistoning into you, it was hard to not feel an orgasm catch up. it was cummingcoming so fast you could only widen your eyes as the feeling began to swell in your tummy. "yeah? cumming? cumming, darling?" "don't stop! pleasepleasepleaseplease—!" you could only nod. with a few more bucks of his hips, he's cumming, and so are you. your voices mixing in a sinful duet as you've both reached your high. white blinds you for a moment, toes curled as you pathetically gush all over his cock. you're sure were gonna pass out . . . wesker kept his cock buried to the hilt, blanking out himself. he drooled, mumbling your name along with a bunch of swears. "hnn . . " you're so fucking full—you don't think you can take any more. 

you stay in that position for a couple minutes or so, before wesker gently clasped your chin, tilting your head to face him so he could kiss you affectionately. you're tired and sore, but try to reciprocate the affection anyways. finally, he lets your legs down as he pulls out. they're wobbly and quickly falls on the bed. "albert . ." you whined, reaching for his hand. he's quickly rushing to your side, caressing your hand and bestowing kisses on your knuckles, up, up, to your arm. "i'm here, sweetheart." whispered the blonde, covering your bare bodies with a comforter. he'll clean you up later. 

"you're perfect. did so well for me," he kneads your shoulder. you only hummed ready to succumb to slumber. you murmur out an "i love you." —- and you feel a kiss on your cheek, then your lips.

"i love you too."

+ extra. wesker breeding you. 

end.

A/N: hope this was to every wesker fan's liking. <3 THANK YOU FOR READING!

[emotionoitme]

i didn’t know

i didn't know - skinshape

final part of don’t call my name

warnings: some fighting at the beginning, but it’s mostly just one big love and fuckfest, mommy issues, slight mention of disordered eating, carmy is a PERV!! unprotected sex throughout but what else did you expect, shower sex (water off for SAFETY), teasing, play fighting (like shoving), brat/brat tamer themes, f receiving oral, fingering, major voyeurism (while otp with richie because i have a crush on him), spanking (and mention of skin being red), slight dacryphilia, sexy pictures, face fucking (m receiving oral), he spits in her mouth, kind of rough handling (thank u dom carmy), but it’s sweet and sappy too, breeding kink oop, bittersweet ending, pls let me know if i missed any warnings my brain is fried from looking at this for so long.

wc: 21k - but tumblr has a 1k "block limit" so this chapter is broken into two posts

a/n: sorry that took me so long i took a grippy sock vacation lol. wow i am so excited for all of you to read this. and the only way i can apologize is with 21k words of the nastiest smut i’ve ever written. LET THERE BE LIGHT!!! (part two of this chapter will be linked at the bottom! no more waiting i promise!!)

playlist

knock knock 

he calls her name. 

she rolls her eyes, brushing out the tangles in her hair. “i need to talk to you.” his voice comes sternly.

she cracks the door, continuing to detangle. the plan was to ignore him, yet she can’t help but seethe at the fact that she had to deal with claire again.

“go talk to your girlfriend” her retort comes sharply.

“can you not start this shit?” his face scrunches.

“i’m not starting anything,” she defends, “you’re the one who keeps inviting that girl over here.” 

“she forgot her scarf,” he states, “she just came to pick it up. that’s it.”

the girl scoffs. 

“i’m sure she wanted a lot more than her scarf from you, carm.” 

“you-,” he rubs his forehead, sighing, “i told her that we’re together, okay?” his eyebrow twitches from the argument.

“you only told her that because she saw me in your shirt,” the girl argues stubbornly, “if i didn’t walk behind you, you wouldn’t have said anything.” she turns the shower on.

“yes i would have,” he contests, “and even if she didn’t see you, i’ve got these fuckin’ things all over my neck,” pointing to the dark purple hickeys that lay on his skin, “thanks for those, by the way. gotta go into work tomorrow like this.” 

she bites her lip to hide a smirk. 

he catches it and raises his eyebrows in response. 

“payback.”

“what?” he stutters, shaking his head. 

“those are nothing compared to what you gave me.”  

he scoffs and crosses his arms. tries to push away how roused he becomes when they bicker like this. 

“i didn’t hear any complaints while i was giving you them,” he counters. 

she rolls her eyes.

“can you get out? i need to shower.” 

“m’not done talking to you,” his eyes lock on her face. 

she puts her hand on her hip and scoffs, staring at him for a moment, studying his features. cursing how her body tingled from the argument. deliberating. 

“fine,” she concedes, threading her fingers under the hem of the borrowed shirt, lifting it up over her head to reveal her nudity. if he won’t leave, she’ll just shower anyways. 

carmen fights a groan at the sight, instead forcefully exhaling through his nose. 

she was right, the marks on his neck were nothing compared to the bruises littering her skin, trailing from her neck all the way down to her chest, ranging from red to purple to brown.

the girl turns to open the glass door of the shower, stepping in, watching as the man shamelessly admires her figure. she goes about her business as if he’s not there, submerging her head under the stream of water, carding her fingers through her hair to scrub her scalp. 

he’s not done talking to her, yet he can’t seem to remember what he even wanted to say, transfixed by her nude, wet body just feet away. she begins to hum a tune and lather up her hair with shampoo. 

carmen approaches the glass. 

“hey,” he tries with a knock, eyebrow twitching. something else twitching, too. 

she glances at him, suds dripping down the side of her face, sliding down her breasts. she smirks knowingly at the sight of his flustered face, pushing her chest out slightly before drenching her face underneath the water again. 

he knocks on the glass door again, jaw tightly clenched. she rubs the water out of her eye and turns to him, cracking the door of the shower open. 

“hm?” she questions, gazing up at him. 

“we gonna finish talking?” he asks. he looks angry, but she knows better. the way his chest puffs out. the way his jaw clenches in that certain way. he looks hungry, and she’s tempted to keep pushing.

“i can’t. i’m in the shower,” she bites down on her lip to refrain from smirking. 

“why-” a sigh, running his fingers through his hair, “why you being such a brat today, huh?” he strains, giving great effort to keep his gaze from trailing down. 

“because i want you to myself,” she bites, “i’m tired of sharing with claire.”

“will you knock that shit off? y’not sharing me with anyone.” 

“uh, i beg to differ,” her eyebrows scrunch, “you’ve been fucking around with her since i moved in.” 

“fucking around?” he scoffs, “she was getting her scarf.”

“there was the other time, too, carm,” she reminds him. 

“that’s because-” he lets out a sigh of exasperation, hand carding through his hair. “listen. she’s the last person i wanna be with. we just…weren't good together.”

“why not?” she presses 

“there just wasn’t…i dunno, sparks? it was like dating a friend.” 

“okay.” she’s still mad, but she likes the words that come from his mouth. because if she has one thing with carmen, it’s definitely sparks. 

“yeah?” he tries, leaning to see her face, “you know i’m yours, right?” 

“yeah. whatever.” she doesn’t want to concede, too fired up about claire coming back over. “you should’ve told me.”

“i knew it’d make you mad,” he defends. 

“not as mad as it makes me thinking that you invited her,” she scoffs, “fucking hate seeing that girl bat her eyelashes at you.” she lathers shampoo between her hands and begins to wash her hair. 

“yeah?” he raises his eyebrows, “feeling jealous?” 

“shut up.” she can sense the stupid smirk on his face. 

carmy’s concentration breaks, and his gaze flits down to her sudsy chest. fuck. he clears his throat before speaking. 

“didn’t know girls like you could get jealous.”

“girls like m-what? what is that supposed to mean?” she cracks an eye open. 

“means you’re too fuckin’ pretty to worry about that shit. so just lose the attitude.”

his answer catches her off guard. the pulsing between her legs catches her off guard too. so she just turns away from him, scrubbing her scalp with her soapy fingers and shutting her eyes tightly. 

he chides her name and pushes the glass door open further. 

she ignores him, soaking her hair under the stream of water, muffling his voice. her eyebrow twitches. 

carmy steps partially in and turns off the water, getting his shirt wet in the process. the girl’s eyes shoot open and she whips around to face him.

“what the fuck, carmy?!” 

“i need you to fuckin’ hear me.” his comes louder than he anticipated. “i don’t. want. claire.” 

she doesn’t even care anymore. his lips look so inviting, she thinks. his white shirt clings to his chest in the spot that got wet. 

she just looks at him for a moment. studies his frenetic expression. looks at his lips again. 

“are you gonna keep fucking fighting with me or are you gonna take that wet shirt off?” 

it takes him a half second of firm deliberation before he’s yanking his shirt over his head and pushing his sweatpants off. she grins as he roughly grabs her face and slams his lips against hers. 

he kisses her with a hungry frenzy, like he has something to prove.  

and they apologize to each other with their bodies yet again, as carmen lifts her against the cold tile and fucks her, coaxing and kissing and thrusting an orgasm out of her. 

he fucks her until it feels like all the hurting is gone. until she gets lovey and desperate for him. until he gets so worked up he groans promises about finding her in california and giving her a ring. 

by the time they finish, the water is cold and the girl begins to shiver. so the two quickly finish washing up and carmy wraps her in a towel. 

he retrieves one of his sweatshirts for her to wear, smoothing his hands over her arms to help warm her up. 

without many words exchanged, they decide to cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie together. she lays her head on his lap and he cards his fingers through her hair absentmindedly. exchanging tenderness to help mend the argument. forgetting feelings of jealousy and shortcoming and guilt. 

they cozy up in carmen’s bed that night, taking a moment before falling asleep to just lay staring at each other. joking softly, touching each other sweetly.

he asks her about california, and watches with fascination as she lights up telling him about the beach she grew up next to. tells him about how when things would get bad at home she would sneak out her window and spend hours swimming in the salty water. letting the waves lap at her skin. letting the sun kiss her better. how it seems so dangerous looking back at it, but as kid nothing ever seemed that dangerous. it felt like nothing could hurt you. 

carmy enthusiastically agrees with her. follows her memory with his own anecdote of when donna took him, mikey, and nat to lake michigan and little carmy got separated from everyone. how he would have otherwise panicked and ran around and made the situation worse, but it was such a beautiful evening. so he decided to just sit on a rock and watch the waves roll in. 

a big smile grows on the girl's face as he recounts the moment when his mom found him. how she threw her arms around him and cried. how he was too young to understand why she was so scared when it was such a lovely evening. 

she wraps her arms around his shoulders and their chests press flush together. she kisses his neck, and they stay quiet for a moment. 

“i wish i didn’t have to go back,” she whispers her admission.

“me too.” he keeps playing with her hair.

it’s quiet for a moment. there’s a heaviness that fills the room. 

“how long you gonna have to end up staying?” carmy asks softly, leaning away from her to study her eyes. her face. trying to memorize every detail. he doesn’t miss the way her expression falters at his question. 

the girl doesn’t answer, and her eyes become glossy. 

“shit,” he breathes. her eyes dart to his. “you’re not coming back, are you?” 

“my whole family is there,” she whispers, “my friends. there’s nothing for me here.” 

“really?” he scoffs, “nothing at all?” 

“don’t start, carm.”

“y’know i fuckin’ love you,” he harshly whispers. she flinches slightly at the word. it feels so much heavier without the haze of lust. 

“all we ever do is fuck and fight.” 

“that’s not true,” he argues. 

“it is.” 

the man lets out a sigh of frustration, studying her eyes. her face. her lips. 

“it just…it feels right with you,” his tone softens. 

she doesn’t say anything for a moment, and fantasizes about leaving everything behind and building something in chicago, no matter how much she had grown to hate the weather. she fantasizes about the man in front of her. how she wants to build a life with him. how makes her feel like no other man ever has.

it’s hard to verbalize as her mind racks back and forth, so instead she just leans forward and kisses him softly, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

carmy reciprocates hesitantly, mind racing with the things he wants to tell her. how he doesn’t care about the distance. how he’ll call her every night. how he’ll keep her room vacant incase she wants to come back. he softly groans into the kiss when she slips her tongue into his mouth, feeling her press her chest flush against his. it feels so good, but he knows it’s wrong to keep pushing the hard conversations away with more sex. 

the girl finds his hand and softly guides it under the hem of her shirt. carmen lets her, fingertips finding the softness of her skin. but when she tries to pull his hand up to her breast, he stops the attempt, fingers firmly pressing against her ribs. 

the girl whines against his lips, moving closer. 

carmy indulges in the taste of her for only a moment more before pulling back and saying her name. she ignores him, chasing his lips, hand moving to grasp his strong bicep. 

“hey,” he turns his head and her kisses land messily along his jaw, “c’mon.” 

she ignores him, knowing he’ll want to keep talking about california, pressing herself closer, wanting to indulge in the feeling of him without thinking about the end. 

he calls her name again, voice coming out strained. she can feel his erection pressing against her, and keeps peppering kisses along his jaw and face. 

“just make me feel good,” she begs against his skin, “please.”

carmen feels himself throb against her, wanting nothing more than to give in. knowing it won’t fix anything. knowing it’ll only complicate things more. 

“thought you said all we do is fuck and fight?” his fingers grip into her, jaw tightening, feeling his resolve begin to crumble beneath her lips. 

“mhm,” she breathes into his skin, “so fuck me again,” trailing her hand down his bare abdomen.

he grips her wrist before she can move any further down. her eyes come up to meet his, taking in the stern look on his face. 

“i know you wanna,” she breathes, a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips, “can feel you throbbing against me.” 

carmen harshly exhales, trying to keep his mind focused. she’s completely right, he thinks, he’s stiff as wood. but he has to stay strong, prove to himself he has control around her.  

“stop fucking around. i wanna talk to you.” his voice comes more sharply than he means. 

the girl stiffens at his tone, pulling away to sit up and retreat. he doesn’t release her wrist. 

“let me go,” she tells him. 

“no. we’re gonna fuckin’ finish this,” his eyebrows furrow, “i didn’t even know you weren’t coming back until now.”

“i don’t wanna talk about it anymore.” her throat feels tight. 

“no? just want me to make you feel better? that all this is to you?” he can’t help the harshness of his tone. 

“carm, i-”

“y’know i’ve never fuckin’ felt this way about anyone? never said ‘i love you’ to anyone but you?” his nose scrunches, eyes appearing glossy. 

“we’ve only known each other for a few weeks.” her tone comes hushed as her chest painfully tightens. 

“yeah, well, i know you enough to know that this is real. that i don’t even-” a sigh, “ i don’t want anybody else but you.” 

“everything you’re saying is just gonna make it harder when i leave.” her voice breaks. 

his furrowed brows soften at the sound, releasing her wrist. she says seated on the bed, trying to take deep breaths and stave off the hot tears that threaten to form. 

“fuck, i-” he pauses, harshly rubs his hand over his face, taking a moment before meeting her eyes again and saying her name. “i like you. a lot.” 

“i know. i like you too, carm.” she rubs the tears away harshly.

“so why can’t we just…enjoy it? while you’re still here? go all out on this?” 

she stares at him blankly for a second as a cue to elaborate. 

the man exhales and shakes his head, trying to piece together what to say. he can’t seem to find the words. she thankfully cuts in. 

“go all out on this?” she asks.

he nods. 

“like, you wanna be my fuckin’…. boyfriend?” 

carmen can’t help the small smile that flashes across his face at the title. he tries to turn his head to hide it but she catches it, playfully shoving his arm. his smile turns to a chuckle. 

“shut up,” she grins, wiping the last stray tear away, “you so wanna be my boyfriend.”

he bring his arms to rest behind his head, staring up at the girl with a lazy smile. he studies her smile. her pretty face. they way in which she’s leaned in closer. 

“fuck yeah, i do. you kidding me?” 

her eyebrows raise at how assertively he says it. her head falls back, and she begins to laugh. partially out of joy and partially out of disbelief. the sound is hearty and sweet, and carmy finds himself wishing he’d make her laugh more. 

the girl leans over him, smile still gracing her face, and she plants a tender kiss against his lips. 

carmen gazes dreamily at her as she sits back up and tucks her hair behind her ears. her face is flushed, and she’s wearing an expression he can’t quite read. they keep staring at each other silently. 

“this is gonna be a bad idea, huh?” she asks after a moment. 

“why?” 

“why wouldn’t it be?” her eyes take in his handsome face. she thinks about how hard it’s gonna be to leave. 

“well…i like you,” he clears his throat, “a lot. actually i’m kind of fuckin’ crazy about you.” 

her gaze softens at this. he continues. 

“and i’m very attracted to you. and we, uh… we have great sex…”

“yeah, we do,” she concedes, “these are all good points.”

“so then, you’re my girlfriend.” 

“carmy…” she sighs, pausing. thinking of what to say. “i don’t like it here. i’ve felt homesick for the past year. i’m really not coming back.” her voice is quiet.

“yeah.” he nods, clearing his throat, “i know you’re not.” he knows, but it’s still hard to be reminded of. 

“so, you’re gonna be okay with that?” 

“i mean…i’m not okay with it, but i’ll deal with it if it means we get to spend these next few weeks together.”

she thinks for a moment, studying his genuine expression.

“okay…but if we do this, we have to promise each other that we’re not gonna get too attached. i really don’t want this to be messy. i like you too much.”

“it won’t be,” he assures, although it feels more like a prayer than a fact. 

“okay,” she whispers, “then you’re my boyfriend i guess.”

his eyes light up a bit at this, and a boyish grin breaks his face.  

“nice.” 

“you’re stupid.” she laughs at his response, lightly shoving his chest again. 

he reaches up and shoves her shoulder back playfully. 

“you are.” 

she scoffs and goes to shove him again, harder this time. he catches her wrist and pulls her forward so she can’t. the girl lets out a yelp of surprise, splaying out over him, face inches from his. 

the simple display of dominance makes her feel dizzy, placing her free hand on his firm chest to center herself. 

“why you like fighting so much, hm?” he asks, his breath ghosting over her lips, “you’re always testing.” 

she tries to pull her wrist away, but his grip is firm. 

“cause you’re…sexy when you’re mad,” she admits, eyes drooping to his lips. 

“i’m sexy when i’m mad?” he has a slight mocking tone. 

“mhm.” she can’t keep her eyes off his lips. “if i worked at your restaurant, i’d probably mess shit up on purpose just so you’d yell at me.”

“jesus,” he lets out a laugh, rubbing his free hand over his face, “what, you like when i get a little rough you?”

“n-no,” she blurts out. the way she averts her eyes immediately reveals her lie.

“yeah, i think you do,” he grins. 

she goes to defend herself again, but shuts her mouth when she can’t think of anything to say. it is kind of true, anyways.

“shut up,” she pushes his face away from her gently, “or else i’ll break up with you.”

this makes him fully laugh. it’s a really nice sound. she watches the way his face crinkles with the big smile. when his laugh fades, he reaches for her chin and pulls her into a gentle kiss. she sighs into the feeling, settling her body closer to his. 

“m’tired,” she mutters into his lips, “you exhaust me.”

carmy rolls his eyes at this. “c’mere.” he says, pulling the sheets back for her. 

the girl slips in next to him and presses her back against his chest, resting her head on his bicep. 

carmy reaches behind him to turn off the lamp, then wraps his arm securely around her. he plants a kiss on her neck and nuzzles his nose into her hair. 

boyfriend. 

he could get used to the title. 

-

carmen gets home late from work on a cold night, late into november, crashing down onto the couch and basking in the silence of the apartment. 

it was a long day in the kitchen, followed by meeting with a contracting crew to update some structural components after hours. 

he had finally taken off after being there for almost 12 hours straight, begrudgingly leaving the renovations to be overseen by richie after having snapped at the crew for the third time. 

he hears soft footsteps padding down the hall, and opens his eyes to see his girlfriend. his sweet, perfect, sexy fucking girlfriend. and it’s like a breath of fresh air, especially after not having seen her the past few days. and she’s wearing a tiny pair of shorts with a crop top that barely covers the curve of her breasts. 

it’s like a reward, he thinks to himself, for all the bullshit he put up with today at the restaurant. 

“welcome home,” she greets, walking past the couch and into the kitchen. 

“hey,” he returns, eyes following her, gaze raking down her backside as she gets herself a glass of water. 

“how was work?” she’s oblivious to the way he’s hungrily looking at her, oblivious to how pent up he feels. 

“long,” he responds, eyes trailing up the length of her legs. 

she lets out a hum of acknowledgement, turning to face him and taking a long sip of water. she catches him watching her intently, his arm stretched out over the back of the couch and neck craned. 

“enjoying the view?” comes her tease.

“y’look good,” he defends. 

“yeah?” 

“mhm.” 

the girl sets her glass down and begins to saunter to the couch. carmen’s eyes follow her closely. 

“how good?” she stops in front of him. 

“good enough to eat.” a small smile twitches the edge of his lip. 

“yeah? wanna taste?” her hands come to her hips, and she pushes her chest out slightly. 

fuck. he shamelessly looks her up and down. this was getting to be dangerous territory. 

“do you wanna go to out to dinner this week?” he changes course, watching her brain stutter for a second. 

“wh-dinner?” 

he nods, resting his head against his hand. she pauses for a moment, studying his face. 

“where?” 

“wherever you want.”

“like…a date?” 

“mhm,” a smirk tugs at the edge of his lips, “cause you’re, uh…my girlfriend now.” 

a grin breaks her face. she thinks for a moment. 

“can we go to your restaurant?” 

“uh…yeah, i guess we can.”

“you guess?” she asks. 

“yeah, we can go. but you’re probably gonna get a lot of, uh…attention.” he admits hesitantly. 

“from who? your staff?” 

he nods. they would probably lose their shit seeing him bring in a girl to eat dinner with. not to mention a girl that looks like her. 

“okay,” she nods, “i’ll dress cute. you can help me pick.”

“yeah?” he likes the sound of that. 

“mhm. whatever you want.” 

carmen rubs his hand over his face then locks his eyes on her again. this girl is going to be the death of him. 

“c’mere,” he beckons.

the girl gently steps forward, standing in between his spread legs. his hand comes to the back of her thigh as he sits forward, gazing up at her with those big blue eyes. he looks so handsome, and she can’t help but place her hands on his face and lean in to kiss him. 

it’s gentle and sweet, and it only makes him want more, tightening his grip on her leg as she pulls away. 

“you taste minty,” she says softly, still leaning over him, stroking her thumb across his face. 

“you sure?” he’s fixated on her lips, “might wanna check again.” he definitely is minty from the nicorette gum he’d been chewing. but it’s worth a shot.

this makes her smile. and she does check again. decides it’s spearmint she tastes. 

before she can pull back, carmy pulls her forward to straddle him. she makes a sound of surprise, but leans into it, wrapping her arms around his neck and continuing to kiss him.

“missed you today,” he slips in between kisses.

“liar,” she smiles against his lips. 

his hands come to her hips, pulling her against him. 

“nah, it’s true,” another kiss, “couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about you.” 

“prove it.” she grinds against his bulge, making him tighten his grip. 

“lay down,” he growls, pulling away. there’s a dark gleam in his eyes. 

“or else what?” she challenges 

he grabs both sides of her thighs and stands up with her still straddling his waist, turning and dropping her back onto the couch. 

okay, he’s not in the mood for arguing anymore. good to know. 

carmen cages her with his arms and kisses her deeply before trailing his lips down her jaw, neck, collarbones, only being stopped by the neckline of her shirt. he glances up at her, and she eagerly takes it off. he smiles at the silent act of obedience and continues kissing down her body, barely giving any attention to her breasts before his lips come to her stomach. the girl huffs at this, and he pretends to not notice. 

“what are you doing?” she strains, watching as his lips come to rest just above the waistband of her shorts. 

“m’getting my taste,” he replies casually 

“carmy,” she chides, face becoming red and hot. 

“what?” his fingers hook her waistband, “you embarrassed or something?” another kiss on her hipbone. 

she is, inexplicably. and vulnerable and exposed and horny all at the same time. she hides her face in her arms instead of responding, feeling him slide the shorts down her legs, left clad only in a thin pair of panties. 

carmy hooks his arms around her legs and pulls her closer to his mouth, pressing slow, firm kisses to her covered mound.

the girl lets out a labored breath at the heat of his lips against her clit as he begins to place wet, open mouthed kisses on her covered pussy. her cotton underwear becomes damp with his tongue, and she arches into the feeling with a sharp breath in. 

carmy nuzzles the fabric and deeply inhales, letting out a low groan.

“ah- don’t do that!” the girl tries to clamp her legs shut out of embarrassment, but he holds them firmly in place and presses his face closer to her core, continuing to kiss and suck her through the fabric. 

“you smell good,” carmy defends. “and these are cute,” he snaps the band of her panties. 

she can hardly even process the statement before he starts sliding them down her thighs, bunching up the fabric and putting it in his pocket. 

“hey, you can’t have those,” she strains. 

there’s a delay in carmen’s response—too busy studying her soft pussy up close, lips gleaming with wetness, bundle of nerves twitching under his gaze. 

“i’ll, uh…make it up to you,” his eyes stay fixed on the glorious sight upon him. 

he leans in, flattens his tongue against her clit, and begins to gently lick. 

the girl gasps, and her hands fly down to grab his hair as she releases a whine of pleasure. 

the tantalizing licks to her clit are gentle. almost not enough. she tugs on his hair and tries to scoot forward, so he eases his tongue back. 

when his eyes flicker to her face. her skin is flushed, lip clamped between her teeth, and she’s looking at him hungrily. 

“y’so pretty,” he presses a kiss to her clit, “taste so fuckin’ good.” 

her head falls back and she breathes out sharply. it’s too much to keep making eye contact with him. the slow, teasing licks are the only thing she can concentrate on. 

“you gonna say thank you?” it’s more of a demand than a question, as he glides his finger over her entrance, collecting her syrupy wetness. 

“n-no,” she struggles, face hot and red. 

thank you, really? how embarrassing. 

his tongue flicks over her clit repeatedly, his finger dips inside of her opening ever so slightly. 

“no?” his lips close around her clit and he sucks, cherishing the sound of the first moan she allows to slip out. 

“mmm,” she whines in response, beginning to pant at the feeling of his mouth. 

“c’mon, be a good girl for me?” unlikely, but he asks anyways

“i am,” she argues, pulling his head towards her needy heat. he scoffs at this and continues to swirl his tongue around her clit.

“then say thank you.”

“carm, i’m not saying-ah thank you!” she cuts herself off with a moan as he sinks his finger inside of her. “y’welcome” he replies lowly, a smirk fighting to break his face. 

“shut up. i didn’t-mmh! …mean it like that.”

she sits up onto her forearms, watching him curl his digit upwards inside of her, trying to keep it together. 

“you’re so fuckin’ cute.” he growls, then dives forward to taste her again. his fingers curl rhythmically, tongue lightly swirling her sensitive clit, giving her barely enough stimulation to get by. 

“more,” she whines, bucking her hips up slightly. he gives her a disapproving glance, so she adds a “please”. 

“yeah?” he kisses her clit. 

she frantically nods her head, trying to scoot closer to the man, trying to buck her hips against his hand. 

carmen speeds up the pace of his fingers, sucking her clit into his mouth, free hand gripping onto her thigh. 

“yeah,” she moans, “fuck, you’re so good at that.”

he preens at the praise and swirls her clit with his tongue, beginning to lap at her pussy. when he adds a second finger she cries out his name.

the view above him in combination with how sweet she sounds leaves his cock pulsing beneath his denim. he reaches down with his free hand, undoing his belt buckle and unzipping his pants. he just needs a little something to keep him from fucking her into the couch. 

as he goes to wrap his fingers around his cock, he’s interrupted by the harsh buzz of his phone on the table.

the girl startles at this, and both of their eyes dart to the contact tag. 

fucking richie. 

he doesn’t stop the movement of his fingers, and leans back in to taste her again, ignoring the loud vibrations. he begins to softly stroke himself, groaning into her pussy. 

“do you need to-ah… to get that?

“no,” he replies sharply, “y’taste too fuckin’ good to stop.”

the girl whimpers at the sound of his voice. at how low and raspy and hungry it sounds. 

“let me taste,” her plead comes breathily. 

carmen nearly groans at her request, more than willing to happily oblige. he licks a long stripe up her pussy, collecting her slick on his tongue, then leans over for a kiss. the girl eagerly (and messily) accepts his lips, swirling her tongue around his own, tasting her juices. she tasted herself before off his fingers, but it’s so much better off his tongue. she moans appreciatively and holds the sides of his face, pulling him in for deeper, sloppier, wetter kisses. the vibration of the phone stops, and his fingers continue their pace, curling into her heat, beginning to produce a squelching sound from the slick of her arousal. 

“yes!” she cries into his lips, eyes nearly rolling back into her head. 

“so perfect, y’know that?” he punctuates his words with the thrust of his fingers, gently biting at the girl’s bottom lip. 

she’s only able to muster a moan in response, trailing her hand down her stomach to circle her neglected clit, babbling out a string of “yes yes yes yes.”

the phone vibrates harshly atop the edge of the table again, falling to the floor with a loud thud. 

“fuck!” carmen exclaims, ripping his hand out of his pants. he stops curling his fingers inside of her and leans down to angrily grab his phone. the girl lets out a cry of protest. 

“carmy m’so close, please,” she begs pathetically. grabbing at his arm. 

“be quiet,” he hushes her, scooting back down to his previous position between her legs, “can y’do that for me?” 

she nods eagerly, biting down on her lip. 

carmen answers the call with a harsh “what?” and rolls his eyes at the voice that blares through the other line. 

his fingers remain engulfed in her heat, and he begins to slowly curl them again. the girl lets out a sharp breath and he shoots her a warning look, mouthing a stern “quiet.”

he puts the call on speakerphone, then places it on her stomach, leaning down to softly lick her clit. the girls eyes widen in surprise. a loud voice begins to come through the phone. 

“-that he was going to do it anyways, but i said ‘no way, carmy would have a fuckin’ bitch fit if we didn’t ask!’ so don’t answer the phone all fuckin’ mad, it’s not my fault,” the voice at the other line loudly rambles. carmy lifts his mouth from her pussy to respond

“jesus, richie, just look at the fucking floor plan.” 

“you don’t think we tried that? the vents aren’t lining up with the floor pla- what is that sound?” 

carmy curls his fingers a bit faster, pressing his tongue flat against her clit instead of answering. the girl gasps, convinced her lip is going to start bleeding from how hard she’s biting down on it. 

his eyes flicker up to her, and she mouths a “what the fuck?” 

like an asshole, he just grins in response. 

“hello?? earth to asshole,” richie’s voice cuts in loudly, “what the fuck are you doing over there?” 

carmen pulls away from her pussy with wet lips. he looks pretty, she thinks, like he has lipgloss on or something. 

“m’eating dessert,” he responds truthfully. the girl’s faces grows incredibly hot. 

“you wh- dessert? what is it, is it good?”

“fuck, richie, you-” he sighs, “forget about the vents,” he begins to rub gentle circles around her clit, “just have them do the pipes and go home. and stop fucking calling me.” 

“you think i wanted to call you, you fuckin’ baby? it’s gonna be an extra $200 for them to come back tomorrow and…” he continues to ramble on. meanwhile the girl holds onto carmy’s shoulder, digging her nails in, trying to anchor herself. the feeling of his fingers plunging into her is incredible, and there’s an unexpected rush at the risk of being listened to. of being caught.

carmen laps at her pussy, then closes his lips around her clit and sucks gently. he keeps doing this rhythmically, curling his fingers up into her core, continually switching between gentle licks and slurping and sucking. it’s a particularly deep thrust of his fingers that make her release her lip from her teeth and cry out loudly.

“ah-!” 

carmy’s eyes dart upwards at the moan, watching as she claps a hand over her mouth in shock. 

“what the fuck was that?” richie’s voice sounds after a pause. 

carmen, without a care that they could be caught, continues eating the girl out, giving her a look that says “you are so getting it.”

“hello?? are you watching porn or something, you fuckin’ weirdo?”

he rolls his eyes at the accustation, why would he be watching porn while on the phone? 

“no, i’m not watching fucking porn, richie. finish the vents tomorrow, i’m not arguing about this anymore. goodnight.” he grows increasingly impatient, and it reflects in the quickened pace of his fingers. 

“wait, wait, one more thing-”

“fuck, what?!” carmen snaps. 

the girl lets out a sound of exasperation, coming up on a perpetual orgasm then being denied every time he removes his mouth. the pressure is growing to be unbearable, and she softly whines a “carmyy.”

“i know, baby, i got you,” he whispers back, barely loud enough for her to hear. he brings his mouth to suck on her clit again while richie continues yapping about the fucking vents. fuck the vents. 

carmy just watches the girl’s face, tuning out the voice from the phone. he studies how flushed she is—from her cheeks all the way down to her chest. how she seems like she’s barely holding on. how her legs begin to tremble. how she tries desperately to keep from making noise, pressing her lips together firmly, eyes screwed shut, breathing ragged. 

the wet, squelching sound from her pussy begins to sound again, juices flooding down his fingers, soaking his hand. it feels unbelievable and she begins to lose patience. 

“carm, hang up,” she cries, much louder than she means to. richie’s voice stops in its tracks. 

“are you f-what the hell are you doing?” he asks, “who is that?”  

“none of your fuckin’ buisness,” carmy snaps, “the central vent is the one that’s the most fucked up, so get it sealed and go the fuck home. and don’t fucking call me again.” 

“yeah, yeah, whatever. you have fun over there, assh-” carmy hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the floor. 

“what the fuck, carm?” she asks exasperatedly, face fully flushed. 

“you’re not very good at staying quiet.” 

“you were- ah!” she loses her sentence as he dips back down to swirl her clit with his tongue. 

“i was what?” he mutters into her wetness, slipping his free hand back into his pants. 

“you were doing that!” she cries, tangling her fingers in his curls.

“it feel good?” he laps at her cunt, rhythmically curling his fingers. 

“yeah,” she cries, “please don’t stop again. please.” 

a small smirk breaks on his face at how nicely she’s able to ask, even after being tormented with interruptions moments ago. he rewards her by continuing his steady pace, keeping everything constant, coaxing an orgasm out of her. 

he squeezes the head of his cock, stroking the length of it faster now. she tastes so good, and the sounds she’s making are so pretty, it’s easy to lose himself in the pleasure. 

she bucks her hips against his face, getting his nose wet. her grip on his hair tightens. her body feels hotter, hotter, hotter and-

“carm-!” she gasps, “fuck, baby, that’s so good. m’gonna cum. please keep doing that pleasepleasepleasebabyyesyesyes,” she babbles, grinding her hips against his face, practically riding his fingers which curl so deliciously inside of her. the man has to force himself to not stop and make a snarky comment about how cute she sounds when she’s all fucked out like this . 

with a final few curls of his fingers and another swirl of his tongue, she’s coming completely undone. her head falls back and she rides out the orgasm shakily. 

he bucks his hips into his hand with fervor, groaning into her pussy as he feels himself approaching an embarrassingly easy climax. 

she clenches around his fingers, and he wriggles them as deeply as he can, swirling her clit with his tongue. 

the girl lets out a cry, feeling herself be pushed far past her peak, hand flying down to grab his wrist. 

“ah-carm, s’too much.” 

“you can take it, yeah?” he growls, rutting into his hand. he’s so close. just needs to taste her for a little longer. there’s a hot pulse surging throughout his body. 

the girl’s breathing becomes loud, a rapid inhale exhale inhale exhale. 

at the labored sound, he takes some mercy on her and stops moving his fingers, focusing solely on lapping at her throbbing clit. his cock twitches in his hand, and with a few final frenzied pumps, he cums into his palm.

“fuck,” he groans, resting his head on her pelvis for a moment. the two of them bask in the post-orgasm high, catching their breaths. carmen’s jaw aches a bit. he plants one last kiss on her oversensitive clit, then pulls away, easing his fingers out slowly.

“kiss me,” she pleads breathily, feeling slightly dizzy from the orgasm. 

“yeah? wanna taste yourself again?” his voice is low, kind of raspy. 

she nods eagerly.

he leans over and, to her surprise, shoves his fingers in her mouth, swirling them around her tongue, making sure she gets every drop she left behind. the girl enthusiastically cleans his fingers, taking them deeply into her mouth. 

the moment he eases them out, he dives into her lips hungrily, shoving his tongue in her mouth, tasting the heavenly mix of her saliva and arousal. 

she grabs his face and licks her cum from the side of his lips, from his chin, gathering it before kissing him frantically again. 

“mm, thank you,” she mutters against his lips sweetly. 

“y’welcome.” he loves how she thanks him. 

the taste is intoxicating, and he’s tempted to lick her pussy again just so the both of them can continue to indulge. but there’s a sticky mess on his hand and the inside of his boxers, so he pulls away from her lips, and grabs a tissue from the box on the coffee table. 

the girl’s eyes widen in surprise as he eases his cum-covered hand out of his boxers.

“is that- did you..?”

he wipes the white substance off his hand, small small teasing the edge of his lips. 

“uh…yeah. that was, um… that was really hot,” he admits.  

“yeah, except the part where you put me on the phone with your employee.”

“nah…” he shakes his head, a smirk on his face, “i think you liked that.”

“wha-no i did not,” her eyes widen, “it was so embarrassing.” it was embarrassing, but it really turned her on—not that he needs to know that.  

“embarrassing?”

“yes, embarrassing! get that dumb grin off your face, it was!” 

this only makes him smile harder, beginning to laugh. 

“yeah? that why you soaked my fuckin’ fingers?” 

she sits up and reaches for her tank top, a bashful expression on her face. 

“no. that’s just because it felt good.” 

“you were squeezing me like crazy trying to stay quiet,” he continues to try and provoke her, liking how feisty she becomes. 

“give me my panties back.” the girl rolls her eyes and ignores his statement. 

“what panties?” he asks cluelessly. 

“carmy.”

“yeah, baby?” 

she scoffs and mutters a “whatever” before standing up and slipping on her shorts. pantiless. there’s a creeping blush on her face as she wonders what he even wants them for. 

“so, tomorrow?” he asks before she can walk away, “for our date?” 

she pauses, then nods. 

“but we’re not going to your restaurant.” 

“why not?” there’s a small smirk on his face. 

she gives him a look that says, because you just ate me out on the phone with the guy that would probably be serving us, dumbass, but stays quiet, beginning to walk to the stairs 

carmen lets out a chuckle, and stands to follow her after cleaning his hand off. he hooks the waistband of her shorts and pulls her back. hands coming to her hips to steady her, his chest flush against her back. 

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” he leans down to kiss her neck. she can feel his smirk against her skin, “you hungry? y’eat yet?” 

she shakes her head no, closing her eyes at the sensation of his kisses. 

“no you didn’t eat or no you’re not hungry?” he asks, nipping the skin below her earlobe. 

“both,” she exhales, leaning back against him, her hands coming overtop his. she suddenly notices how big they are splayed out over her hips.

“you haven’t eaten dinner yet?” he stops kissing her. 

“m’not hungry,” she breathes, “keep kissing me there.”

he removes his hands from her hips and steps back. she lets out a noise of disappointment and turns to face him with a pout. he doesn’t see this, though, already walking to the kitchen and turning on the light to make her something. 

“carmy,” she calls, following him, “it’s late. let’s just go to bed.”

he ignores her, opening their cabinets to retrieve a box of spaghetti. 

“hey,” she grabs his arm, leaning to meet his eyes, “come on. i wanna cuddle.” 

“we will. but i’m gonna make you dinner first.” his voice is firm. he pulls his arm away from her and reaches down to grab a pot. 

he’s so demanding. but the gesture makes her feel incredibly affectionate towards the man, so it’s hard to be mad at.

as he fills the pot with water, the girl snakes her arms around his waist and hugs him from behind, pressing herself flush against his back. 

“thank you,” she mumbles into his shirt, taking a deep breath of their shared laundry detergent. her hand sneaks under his shirt and she drags her fingers into the deep cut of his v line. 

carmen reaches his hand behind him, caressing her hip without saying anything in response. 

she pulls away after a moment and he puts the pot of water on to boil. 

“you eating enough?” 

his question catches her off guard. 

“i- what?” 

“you heard me.” he crosses his arms.

she stares at him for a moment, studying his tightly set jaw. the way it twitches a bit.

“yeah, i am.”  

“yeah?” he looks like he doesn’t believe her. 

and maybe she had been a bit forgetful lately, missing breakfast, oftentimes coming home too tired to make dinner and opting for a snack instead. she didn't think he had been so observant, though. 

“yes.” her tone is quiet. 

he just stares at the girl silently, striking blue eyes boring a hole into her. she crumbles under his gaze. 

“i’ve just been…stressed. i don’t know. haven’t had much of an appetite.”

“what are you stressed about?” 

“going back home i guess,” she admits quietly, shuffling on her feet. 

he doesn’t respond, giving her the opportunity to elaborate without pressure. 

“i just- it’s gonna be hard. y’know when i told you my mom and i have a complicated relationship?” 

he nods, and she continues. 

“yeah, that was like…understatement of the year.” 

he nods, a knowing look on his face. 

“yeah, no. i, uh…i know exactly what you mean.” he really does. 

“and um, she’s sick. like, not entirely there,” she points to her head, “so she gets really mean. but then she can also be the nicest, most motherly person. its just…really unpredictable.” 

it was almost uncanny, the way in which he pictures donna as she gives her description. 

“i, uh…yeah. i get it,” he clears his throat, “i’ve dealt with someone like that my whole life.” he intently locks eyes with her, wishing he could say more to alleviate her dread. 

“how did-how do you deal with it?” she asks quietly, after a moment. 

“i, uh…i don’t really?” he rubs his neck, letting out a sardonic chuckle, “i haven’t talked to her in…months probably.”

“really?” 

“yeah, i’ve, um…been kind of an asshole, actually. my sister is really the only one that deals with her.” 

“you’re not an asshole,” she locks eyes with him, “well, sometimes you are. but not cause of that. that’s more like a…i dunno, a defense response.”

he laughs at her bluntness. 

“so i am an asshole, just not for that?” 

“correct.”

“how am i an asshole?” 

“you’ve been trying to make me jealous since i got here.” 

“not trying. it actually worked very well.” he has a stupid smile on his face when he says that. 

“shut up!” she laughs, shoving her hands against his chest as hard as she can. he barely moves from it, grabbing both her wrists firmly with an amused look on his face. she struggles against his grip, trying to shake the feeling of arousal that comes with how easily he’s able to overpower her. 

“why’re you so fiesty, huh?” he grins, pulling her closer. 

“cause you’re a fucker, that’s why.” she tries again to pull her arms back, but to no avail. her face feels hot, and she becomes hyper aware of the fabric touching her skin, the hair on her neck, the tingle of the rough grip on her wrists. his face is much closer now, and she fights the urge to lean forward and indulge.

“yeah?” 

“mhm,” her response overlaps his. 

“what are you gonna do about it?” he mocks, “huh?”

her eyes flicker down his face. he has a stupid fucking smirk plastered on his lips. fuck, she wants to kiss him. 

an idea pops into her head. 

the girl leans forward, gently ghosting her lips over his own. her tongue darts out and she licks his bottom lip, then sucks it into her mouth and bites softly. then she gives him a soft and gentle barely there kiss. 

she feels his grasp on her wrist loosen, so she splays her hand over his chest. 

her lips hover over his for just a moment more, and then she shoves him. 

carmy stumbles back slightly, less prepared that time, hands coming behind him to steady himself on the counter. when he meets her eyes again he has a dark glint in his eyes. almost like anger, but hungrier.

the next thing she knows, he yanks her into his chest, grabs her hip and roughly bends her over the countertop. 

she just thinks to herself, finally. 

carmen tugs her hips back until her forearms fall to the counter and she arches her spine. until she’s flush with his pelvis and he’s pressing his achingly hard cock against her ass. 

“such a bratty fuckin’ girl,” his tone is rough, strained.  “you know that? fuckin’ had it with you.” 

“i’m n-” she cuts herself off with a gasp as he harshly tugs the waistband of her shorts up, wedging the fabric between her cheeks and giving himself a nice view of the supple skin.

“you’re what?” he smooths his hand over her ass, watching her arch into his touch. watching as she opens her mouth to say something, then close, staying silent and shuffling her hips against his groin. 

carmen lets out a groan—half frustration, half arousal, smoothing his hands over her hamstrings and firmly squeezing the soft flesh before trailing back up to her ass. 

“you doing this on purpose?” both hands grab her ass, kneading, pulling her closer against his hardness. 

no response. she can’t, not without moaning. 

“hmm?” he shoves his hips forward into her, “you trying to get a reaction outta me tonight? or are y’really just that fucking bratty?” the hand gripping her flesh squeezes harder. 

“i-mmh…that-…keep doing that.” she chooses to ignore his question. 

“answer me.”

still nothing. 

“you want me to spank you? cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you keep this shit up.”

his words make her stomach flip. of course she does. she hides her smile in her arms and stays quiet, pushing back into him. hoping he’ll stick to his words. 

carmen raises his hand, and cracks it down on her right cheek, grabbing the flesh immediately after to ease some of the sting. 

“ah-!” she grips the countertop, arching her spine. his hand leaves behind a hot, tingling sensation, flooding through her body like a wave. 

“y’okay?” he tries to sound caring but his tone comes out rough, heavy with arousal. 

“yeah.” better than okay. incredibly horny, actually.  “that hurt?” his hand smooths over the reddening skin. 

“no,” she shakes her head, pushing back against him again, “thought you were gonna spank me.”

she cranes her neck trying to get a look at the man. his pupils are blown, face is rosy, and when she meets his eyes there’s a dangerous glint to them. 

he wedges her shorts up higher, exposing more of her ass, then smacks her in the same spot without warning. harder this time. 

“fuck-!” she gasps sharply. it hurts, but in a way that has her pressing her thighs together desperately to try and get some relief. 

“can you take one more, pretty girl?” 

“yeah,” she whines enthusiastically, shuffling her hips back against his groin. 

“yeah? y’so tough, baby.” his voice has a slight mocking edge to it as he does everything in his power to not yank the shorts down her legs and fuck her into the counter. 

“just…shut up and do it.” she tries to mask her eagerness, but it doesn’t work very well. 

he scoffs, and rubs his large hand over her supple skin. when he feels her relax, he raises it and cracks down on her other cheek. 

she partially muffles the loud cry by biting down on her forearm, feeling a few tears begin to form in her eyes. 

“you have such a cute ass, y’know that?” he squeezes both of her cheeks in tandem, pulling them apart, pushing them together, “can already see the handprints forming.” his voice is low and rough.

“wh-really?” her brain feels fuzzy with desire as she tries to switch gears. 

“you wanna see?” 

she nods her head frantically, butterflies arising at the thought. 

carmen pulls his phone out of his back pocket and holds it over her, snapping a picture with a low groan. 

“look back at me,” he demands softly. 

she does, peering over her right shoulder to see him holding the camera facing her. the embarrassment makes her face feel hot, but she lets him take the picture anyway, looking into the lense with a small pout on her face. 

“so fucking pretty,” he growls, lowering the phone and clicking on the picture he took, admiring it for a moment before turning the phone so she could see. 

it was quite the picture—cherry red handprints over her round ass, shorts wedged up so far they look like underwear, the curves of her body accentuated by the angle. 

carmy swipes to the left and reveals the photo of her looking back at the camera, all flushed cheeks and pouty lips and misty eyes. she knows she should probably feel embarrassed, but seeing herself like that just makes the throbbing between her legs intensify. 

carmen turns off the phone and puts it back in his pocket. he leans over and grabs her face, studying her with furrowed brows before leaning down kissing her firmly. 

“you okay?” another kiss, “really?”

she nods, eagerly reciprocating the kiss, moaning a soft “mhm” against his lips.  

“didn’t hurt too bad?” his brows are furrowed, their movements beginning to quicken. she slips her tongue into his mouth and she begins to kiss him faster, losing herself in his lips. 

carmy reciprocates for a moment before muttering a gentle “hey,” pulling back a bit, “answer me.” his gaze flickers over the sheen on her cheeks, left behind from a few stray tears. 

her eyes flutter open, fighting the urge to not chase his lips. 

“it didn’t hurt,” she affirms hazily, “felt good. can you put it in? please?”

“jesus, christ” he groans, dipping back in for another kiss, “want me to fuck you? needy fuckin’ girl.”

she nods with a small, bashful smile and softly nips at his bottom lip, fighting the urge to bite harder. 

carmen straightens to his previous position behind her and slips his fingers beneath the hem of her bunched up shorts. he pulls them to the side to reveal her glistening pussy, letting out a sharp exhale at the sight. he’s about to reach out and touch her when she gasps.

“carm, the water.”

it angrily bubbles and pours down the sides of the pot, sizzling when it splashes onto the flames. 

“fuck,” he pulls away from her, quickly moving to turn off the burner. “stay right there.” 

and she would’ve, had another fucking phone not started ringing. 

the girl cries out his name frustratedly, just wanting him to come back over and fuck her brains out. 

“it’s not mine this time,” carmy defends, adjusting the tent of his pants. he’s so hard it’s almost painful, increasingly eager to get back behind her. 

she huffs and straightens, readjusting the uncomfortably wedged-up shorts as she follows the sound of the ringer. when she retrieves her phone from between the couch cushions, her heart drops at the contact name. 

mom.

in a single moment it’s like the air gets sucked from her lungs. her skin stops tingling with that warm heat, body stops buzzing with pleasure—all the good feelings flood from her suddenly. 

carmen wipes down the stove, drying the water that had boiled over before refilling the pot and turning the heat back on. his roommate talks in a hushed, urgent tone in the living room, and he tries to refrain from curiously moving closer and eavesdropping. curiosity almost gets the better of him, but a few more moments pass and he hears delicate footsteps approaching. 

he looks up, and catches the sight of her tear-streaked face. her big, sad eyes. a pit forms in his stomach. 

“everything okay?” he’s unable to hide the concern in his tone. 

she doesn’t say anything. she can’t. so she just rushes forward and crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. 

“hey,” he soothes, tightly reciprocating the hug, “what happened?” he kisses the side of her head. 

it takes her a minute before she’s able to verbalize, just wanting to nuzzle herself as far into his chest as she can, wishing she could just disappear into him completely. 

he says her name, pulling away slightly to get a look at her sweet, sad face. “what’s goin’ on, huh?” 

“i’m going back next week,” it’s hard to make eye contact with him, so she looks to the side with blurry vision. 

“what?” it’s like a punch in the stomach. 

“i-…my mom,” she sighs exasperatedly, “she’s just getting worse,” at this point the tears stream down her cheeks. 

he cups her face with both hands, wiping them away with his thumbs. he just stares at her, not knowing exactly what to say to make this shitty situation better. 

“i’m-….fuck, i’m sorry.” he puts his forehead on hers, “m’so so sorry.” he doesn’t know exactly what he’s apologizing for—the state of her mother or the dread of her sudden departure. either way, there’s this overwhelming feeling of loss trying to wrap his head around how soon next week really is. 

“m’gonna go to bed,” she mutters, tightly closing her eyes to stop the flow of tears, nose brushing against his. 

“you don’t wanna eat with me?” 

she gives a small shake of her head, having lost her appetite at the news. 

carmy wants to push it. but she just looks so tired and sad, he figures it’s better not to. his hand comes to the back of her neck, and he pulls her into a bear hug, kissing the side of her head. 

“go wait in my bed for me,” another kiss, “i’ll be up in a bit.”

“i need a shower,” she mutters into his neck, “you made me all…sticky.”

he can’t help but let out a humorous exhale, finding a small bit of relief from her words. 

“yeah? sorry about that.” he has a soft, barely there smile on his face. 

“you know i love you, carmy?” 

her quiet confession stops his train of thought. stops the noise of it all. it kind of feels like it even stops his heart, just for a second.

it was something she hadn’t yet said to him without the hazy high of lust. something she had been waiting on until it felt real. 

carmen eases away from the tight hug, getting a good look at her face. she’s entirely genuine, brows furrowed and eyes glossy, searching his expression for reassurance. he dips forward and kisses her softly, hand caressing her cheek. 

“i know,” his thumb traces along her jaw, “i love you too.”

she turns her head to the side and kisses his hand.

“you gonna come to california with me?” she softly bites his thumb. 

“yeah, baby.” he nods. it’s a lie, and they both know that. 

sometimes it’s easier to fantasize about what could be than accept what never will. 

-

it’s far too late into the night by the time carmen has eaten and showered. he blearily trudges down the hall and pushes his door open. and like a breath of fresh air, there she was. cuddled up in his blankets, face buried in his pillow. it feels incredibly domestic, and he finds himself wishing he could come home to this every night of his life. 

carmen eases into bed slowly as to not wake her, shuffling his body against hers. then he just watches her for a bit. 

he watches her chest rise and fall. watches the way her lips slightly part with her heavy breaths. she looks so peaceful unconscious, like there isn’t a worry in the world. 

he thinks about how selfishly he wants to keep that placating expression on her face. wants to keep her to himself. thinks about how selfishly he wishes she didn’t even have a family to return to—how fucked up is that?  it’s almost surreal, staring at her sleeping form, mourning her loss while she’s still in front of him. tangible and soft and beautiful and sleeping right there. 

carmen reaches out and strokes her cheek at the thought, then leans in to press a gentle kiss to her resting lips. it doesn’t make him feel better like he thought it would. 

he turns off the light and pulls her in close. 

-

pt 2 of i didn't know

[creatchie8]

Yellow Soul: Chapter Nine

Tilleul

Chapter Summary: Something is very wrong in Wabang, Wyoming. And you have everything to do with it.

Pairing: Rhett Abbott/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI- A lot of angst and yearning, some suggestive behavior, mentioned dead body

Word Count: 8,800ish

A/N: Hey queens... hopefully this chapter makes sense, it has been brewing so long in my head my brain sort of turned into mush lol. Now we are really gettin into it, juicy juicy juicy.

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The tires crunched over gravel as you pulled up to the bonfire, headlights cutting briefly through the dark before you killed the engine. The fire was bigger than expected and so was the crowd. Laughter spilled out into the night, a few flickering faces turning to glance as your truck rolled to a stop at the edge of the field, parking among a row of other vehicles. 

You sat for a moment with your hands on the warm steering wheel, the engine ticking quietly as it cooled. The thick denim jacket you wore scratched against your bare arms, stiff and coarse at the seams and heavy on your shoulders. You’d nearly left it at home because you hated the way it felt. But the cold bit through you too quickly in just a shirt to go without it now that the weather was getting colder. 

Now it clung to you like a bad decision you couldn’t take back, as if coming here didn't already seem like a bad decision.

Taking a breath through your nose, you reluctantly opened the driver door. The sharp scent of burning wood rushed in and filled the cab with its nauseating scent and the early autumn chill followed close behind. You crossed your arms, half to ward off the cold and half to hold yourself together, tired eyes scanning the mostly unknown crowd. 

There were more people than you’d expected… far more. Beth had promised it would only be a few coworkers and some friends for a going away party for Mateo. Clearly, Mateo had a very broad definition of “close.”

Some clustered near the fire, others spilled into the shadows. Red cups in hand, talking and laughing in the truck beds of those who needed a front row seat, seemingly not worried what would happen if the flames jumped too close to their vehicle. It takes a lot of internal convincing to slide yourself out of the driver’s seat and close the heavy door. 

You hadn’t even shut the door yet. Once you did, that was it. No going back. No retreat.

The door closed with a heavy finality, and the sound echoed in your chest. But, you didn’t move just yet. The nervous flutter in your chest hadn’t settled. Worn boots crunched on the ground as you shifted your weight. 

All at once, the fire seemed very far away from where you were parked.

But, you spotted Beth. The knot in your chest loosened just a little. She stood near the fire, backlit by the warm glow laughing, relaxed, holding a drink and gesturing wildly mid-story as her long, dark hair whipped over her sweatshirt-clad shoulders. Her presence and sharp laughter cut through the noise, steady and familiar, like a buoy in deep water.

With one hand still gripping the edge of your rough denim jacket and the other shoved into your front pant pocket, you started walking toward the controlled flames, ground giving way to packed dirt beneath your boots. Your breath fogged in the air and the cold still clung to you, but your steps felt a little less hesitant now.

As you approached closer, Beth’s face lit up in instant recognition, excusing herself away from the small circle of people that gathered near her so she could meet you halfway. 

The scent of thick smoke and her usual fruity perfume enveloped you as she neared and eventually pulled you into a hug, kissing your cheek, “There you are! And here I thought you stood me up.” Beth pouted her raspberry glossed lips and you laughed, tension melting from your shoulders. 

“Oops, sorry-” She wrinkled her nose and wiped off her gloss mark from your cheek with the cuff of her sweatshirt. Her eyes were glittery and glazed, like she was already a few drinks in. 

The two of you started walking slowly towards the fire, Beth’s elbow linked with yours as if she was afraid you’d run away. 

“So… Mateo has quite a guest list.” You mumble in her ear, dark locks tickling your nose. She let out an exasperated sigh, stalling a bit before you meshed with the rest of the group.

“Hmmm… yes. Are you mad that I lied to you about the small party thing? Because it really is kind of like a friend who brought a friend who brought a friend thing.” She explained sheepishly, almost animated due to the alcohol she had consumed. 

You barely avoided being backed into by a guy who wasn’t watching where he was going, pivoting just in time as Beth led you toward a navy-blue cooler stationed beside someone’s truck. 

A couple occupied the open tailgate nearby, the woman wrapped in a worn blanket while her boyfriend (presumably) clung to her like they were alone. Quickly, you avert your eyes and crouch near the cooler, letting your fingertips skim the cold water and ice bobbing at the top.

Beth nudged your thigh with the toe of her boot, pulling your attention back to the conversation.

“Oh, no- I’m not mad.” You said, raising your voice over the low hum of chatter. “How could you have known there’d be this many people?” 

Beth exhaled audibly, like she’d actually been holding her breath. Relief softened her face, “Exactly!” She exclaims after her sigh, completely oblivious to the couple on the tailgate as she leans against it, sipping whatever was left in her red solo cup. Her loose attitude makes you snort out a short laugh, your attention drawn back to the cooler. 

The selection was bleak. That’s what you got for showing up late. Shiny cans bobbed in cloudy water, firelight flickering across their dented surfaces. 

Cherry seltzer or pineapple seltzer? Neither sounded spectacular but it had to be better than what was left in the soupy ice. It was like whoever put this cooler together just tossed in whatever they had in their pantry that they were just itching to get rid of. 

Lost in concentration, you never heard the boots shuffling behind you nor the man clearing his throat trying to get your attention. It took an arm and a hand brushing past you and plunging into the cooler to snap you out of your internal debate. His sudden movement mixed up the cans you were looking at, and to your dismay he happened to pull out the cherry seltzer.

A huff pulls from your nose and you whip your head around and up to whoever just stole your drink. Your mouth is open but the words die on your tongue.

“What’re you doin’ here?” Rhett asks, seemingly equally as confused as you are. His hand and can- your can- drips shiny little beads of water that gleam in the fire light. Looking down you notice that a white wrap is covering the majority of his hand, the bandage crawling its way up his forearm.  

Standing up to your full height, you cross your arms defensively, “I could ask you the same thing. How do you know Mateo?” You question absentmindedly as you suddenly realize Beth was no longer at your side, but over back with the people you saw her with earlier. 

The crack and hiss of a can brings you back to the man in front of you, opening the silver tab of the drink with rough, calloused fingers. You bite the inside of your cheek and glare at him as he raises the white can to his lips and takes a long, slow drink. 

Like he was teasing you. 

While you await his response, you become hyper-aware of the couple next to you. 

Were they… surely they couldn't be- out in the open? 

And with a quick glance in their direction your (unfortunate) suspicion was confirmed to be true and they were getting much friendlier than appropriate in such a public setting. 

You turned and walked away, pulse quickening- not out of innocence, but a deep, rising discomfort. No part of you wanted to stick around for that. 

Rhett called your name, but you kept walking, needing space to collect yourself. A large hand grabs your wrist and you stop, turning around to see Rhett. A soft, easy smile made its way to his rosy lips, the color complimenting the flush on his cheeks, the same flush you knew traveled down his neck and chest.

“Hey, you don't have to go if it makes you uncomfortable that I'm here. I'll stay away.” 

That wasn’t sober Rhett talking. Sober Rhett didn’t offer comfort. Sober Rhett didn’t say anything unless cornered. And his thumb- his stupid, calloused thumb- was stroking the inside of your wrist beneath your cuff, brushing your bracelet like it still meant something. 

“No I- didn’t you see those people next to us?” His thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin was driving you mad, and the worst part is you knew he was doing it unconsciously. Like it was second nature to be touching you and giving you butterflies.  

“What people?” Rhett furrowed his brows and looked slowly over his shoulder, trying to figure out whatever you were talking about. 

You couldn't take it anymore. You pulled back from his grasp surprisingly easily and watched as his hand fell slack to his side. You exhaled through your nose, steadying your voice. “Let’s not do this right now. Just tell me- how do you know Mateo?” This time it wasn’t a plea. It was a request for clarity. 

Control.

“Oh, I don't.” Ah. So he was the ‘friend of a friend’, “Why are you here?”

“I’m Mateo’s coworker. Well, ex-coworker now. This is-” Rhett leans closer, much too close for your liking, and turns his ear towards you. As if to say, ‘I can't hear you’, “This going away party.” You explain louder and Rhett nods as if he fully understands you. But the way his forehead creases tells you otherwise. Normally, you’d feel the pull to fill in the blanks. To explain. To make it easier.

But not tonight. You were too tired to keep covering for other people’s confusion.

“D’you want a drink?” You don't think he knows he's yelling, deep voice penetrating your eardrums and vibrating down your spine. You don't think he knows he's leaning closer either. 

Instinctively, your hand shoots out and you press it firmly to the center of his chest, soft green flannel meeting your hand, stopping him before he collides with you. 

“I had a drink.” You pointedly eye the cherry seltzer clutched in his hand. Rhett looked down and laughed under his breath, as if he forgot it was there.

“Here.” He shoves the can close, pressing it to your own chest. Not aggressively, just thoughtlessly like he was mirroring you. Rhett’s knuckles brushed against you in the process, light but undeniable. You hated the way it made your stomach twist, low and molten.

“No, you picked it. Keep it.” Your voice stayed even. 

His proximity pressed uncomfortably close. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. Or maybe he didn’t care.

“Oh come on now. Take it.” His tone is playful but firm, making the hair on the back of your neck prickle. He nudged the can higher- too high now, too close. You dropped your hand from his chest, accepting the drink just to make it stop.

“Thanks.” You muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Rhet looks at you expectantly, blue eyes flicking between your face and the drink. 

You grimace and tilt your head as if to say, ‘really?’ and Rhett just nods almost eagerly. Giving up, you take a sip and shoot him a tight-lipped smile, “There you go. Happy now?” 

Rhett responds with a low hum, a pleased look gracing his handsome features. You felt stuck, pinned under his drunk gaze like a caged animal. You shifted your weight, resisting the urge to fill the silence. Let him sit in it, if he wanted to be near you so badly.

Your eyes drifted back toward Beth, her laughter rising above. She felt a mile away, safe and familiar. 

You bit the inside of your cheek.

“I should head back to my friend.” You said finally, soft but resolute. And before Rhett could reply, before that lazy smile could twist into something more, you turned and left, fast enough to feel the escape in it.

-

Beth’s group was much too close to the fire for your liking. Already you shed your jacket and it was resting on the tailgate of someone’s truck. Even with your jacket off the heat from the flames kissed your bare skin and licked at your face, which felt like you had a one hundred and four fever. 

As if that wasn't enough, you were already one cherry seltzer and two beers deep, the sharp edges of your earlier anxiety had dulled, replaced with a slow, ambient hum in your bloodstream. You weren’t drunk, but you weren’t clear either. Just warm, somewhat floaty. 

Uncertain.

And yet, you kept finding his eyes.

He stayed his distance, grouped up a ways away from you. He looked away again, scratched the back of his neck, and said something to the guy next to him without looking back.

And then… there. Again. A flick of the eyes, half a smile, just barely.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of how overwhelmed you were, how warm your face had gotten. You looked down for a moment, trying to school your expression. Then back up.

He was still looking.

Not in an obvious way. Just enough to say I see you. I still see you.

Your pulse stuttered. You hated how easily he could still do that to you.

Hot and cold. That was Rhett. One night inviting you out, the next keeping you at arm’s length like you were too much to deal with. You never knew where you stood with him, and you hated that too. 

“I’m going on a walk.” You whisper to Beth and she nods absentmindedly, giving your hand a quick squeeze before turning her attention back to the woman she was talking with. 

Yes. A quick hike through the cold autumn air will clear your head. It always does. And maybe it'll sober you up enough to start feeling like you can drive home. 

Jacket crumpled up in your fist, you start to head away from the group and past the fire, walking the opposite way of where your car was parked. 

The crowd was thinning, but there were still enough people where you had to squeeze between groups, muttering apologies the whole way.

As you passed his group, you kept your eyes down, begging to seem invisible to the others as you walked. You slipped away from the light, the noise, the heat, stepping into the cool hush beyond the sparse tree line. 

The ground was dry, soft under your boots, and the dark was full of quiet sounds. Pine branches shifting, their sharp needles gearing up for the cold, distant voices, the rhythmic thump of bass fading behind you. 

The cold had deepened, sharpening the air. The stars were brighter now, pushing through the haze of smoke and music. You shivered, and looking down you could see little raised bumps developing atop your forearms. And although you weren't freezing, you knew it was better to put it on now than get sick from the cold. 

"Hey-"

The voice behind you made you stall, the denim only pulled over one arm. 

You turned. It was Rhett. He stood a few feet back, hands in his pockets, eyes shadowed but familiar with a thick Carhart jacket zipped up halfway. He looked a little unsure of himself, like he knew he was trespassing on something private but couldn’t quite help it. 

You lowered your eyes and continued slipping the rest of your jacket on.

“I didn’t think you should walk out here alone.” He explained. Rhett’s tone was neutral, almost casual. But his eyes searched for yours. 

You raised an eyebrow, “I can handle the woods.”

“I know,” He said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… still.” 

The flush was almost gone from his cheeks from what you could tell in the moonlight. A silence stretched between the two of you. Not unfriendly. But delicate. 

You could have sent Rhett back. Part of you wanted to. But another part, the bigger part, was oddly glad he’d followed.

You sighed, then turned and kept walking. He fell into step behind you, your feet crunching lightly over twigs and leaves. Your fingers brushed the tree trunks as you passed them, sometimes reaching out to gently stroke the prickly pine needles that got within arm’s reach. 

“Didn't think I’d see you Sunday.” He said after a few moments.

“Didn't think I’d come.” You admit softly, placing a firm palm flat against the trunk of a tree to push yourself upwards on the jutting rock in your path. 

Once up, you wait for Rhett, watching as he does the same. Waiting for him to find the proper footing helps you take a deep breath, crisp air burning the inside of your nose, and it smells like sagebrush. 

Spicy, peppery, and earthy. It reminds you of a simpler time. 

“Do you think you're ready for next weekend? I hear the competition will be tough.” You were already walking back up the trail, further and further from the fire. It was barely a glow from when you started. 

“Can ya give me a break? It’s only Tuesday.” He said, and when you looked over your shoulder, he was smiling. Soft, familiar, teasing like it used to be. 

So he still was a little tipsy. Not that you could judge, it was a miracle you had not tripped over your own feet already and biffed it in the dust. 

“Ah, you're right. Sorry Rhett.” You gave a weak laugh, shaking your head. 

The two of you walked in silence for a while. The small, rational part of your brain begged you to stop and turn back. Why were you still walking? 

Because if you turn back, you'll see him. 

The irrational, yet louder, part of your brain whined. 

If Rhett was concerned by how far out you were getting, he never made it known as you walked along the moonlit trail. Your brain was lulled into a rhythm of listening to his steps married with yours.

Stepstep step… step. Stepstep step… step. Stepstep step… step.

“So… you and Maria?” 

There it was. 

Of all the things drunk you could’ve done- trip over a root, crack your skull open on a rock- you went with that. 

Maria. 

And you would’ve preferred a concussion.

You winced but kept going as Rhett stalled and messed up the soothing rhythm of your steps together. The air shifted with his silence. Now it was all wrong. 

Heavy.

Rhett stayed silent but caught up with you, dragging his feet in the dirt like a kid called in from recess. You almost hoped he wouldn’t respond at all. 

Maybe he’d just fall away, disappear into the trees, and let you walk this off alone.

“Why d’you care?” 

Not the response you expected. You stopped dead in your tracks, nearly causing him to collide with you. He skidded to a halt, too close.

It was like the moonlight had a dimmer switch, because now you had a hard time seeing his expression. But he looked hurt. His trucker hat shaded his face from what little moonlight was left and he looked miserable. Pitiful even. Sad blue puppy dog eyes that searched your face for an answer you couldn't give. 

You stared up at him, mouth parting, but nothing came out. Every reply you ran through sounded dishonest, or worse, desperate. 

“God, m’sorry.” You twisted your hands in front of you, “I don’t know why I-” 

“No, tell me. Why d’you care?” Rhett interrupted, pressing the question further. A deep, dark pit formed in your stomach as you watched him lean against the tree closest to him, crossing his arms as his expression went cold, void of any emotion.

“Jesus, Rhett.” You muttered, voice low and unsteady, “You know I can’t answer that.”

“Then why the hell should I answer you?” His voice rose and you winced at the volume, making yourself smaller as if you would cease to exist if you willed yourself hard enough.

“You don't have to. I said I was sor-” You all but whined, begging him to understand.

But Rhett only laughed, bitter and hollow, and the sound rattled through the trees like something feral, “Oh but I have to. For your sake I have to. Y’know, for some college educated girl you're not very smart.” His words stung like a sharp slap against your cheek, the bite of them ripping through your clothes and leaving you bare, completely naked in front of him. 

You straightened slowly, trying to hold on to something solid… anger, maybe. “That was low.” You said flatly, “Really awful.”

Rhett didn’t flinch. Didn’t back down. The wind picked up between you, snapping at your hair like a warning.

“It’s true. And you know it’s true.” His words took on a mocking tone, “For your whole life you've been doing what other people tell you to do. How to act, how to feel-”

“And you’re the authority on independence?” You snapped, stepping into his space. Your finger jabbed his chest, “You’re so scared of what your folks think, you won’t leave that damn ranch.”

The wind howled through the trees like it was in on the fight. The sky had gone black. No moon, no stars. Just dark clouds and electricity thick in the air.

Rhett grabbed your hand and shoved it away, then took hold of your jacket with both fists and yanked you forward. Your body collided with his, sudden and breathless.

“You need me to tell you one of two things: that I'm with Maria. That I like her and I like her so much that I think we should slap a label on it and wrap our relationship up in a neat little bow.” Rhett leaned closer, his forehead dangerously close to brushing against yours, “Or that we tried. Tried making it work but it just didn't turn out the way we’d hoped and we’re done.”

It was clear he couldn't feel or hear the wind, or saw how the moon was covered with storm clouds. But you could feel his heartbeat against your own, erratic and frenzied. Faintly, you could hear the rumbling of thunder over your panting lungs.

“Rhett, listen to me.” You whispered, panic blooming in your chest. Another roll of thunder groaned above, closer this time, “You hear that?” The scent of pine and fire clung to his clothes, and the storm was so close now, close enough to taste.

But he wasn’t listening. Not really. His voice steamrolled through yours.

“Either way you need me to put you out of your misery because you can't do it yourself. Because you can’t make up your damn mind. You can’t even form your own thoughts about you ‘n me without help.”

You nodded, not even sure why. You just wanted him to see you. But he didn’t. Not yet. 

Rhett doesn't even notice, he doesn't even notice the first little drops of rain plinking on the brim of his hat and the little taps the water leaves on the rocks and dirt. 

“I’m serious.” You tried again, voice straining, “It’s about to storm-” You tried to reason, grabbing fistfulls of his jacket near his chest to try and shake him out of the trance he was in. 

Yet the movements and pleadings are half-hearted as you start to process his words. But before you had time to form a coherent judgement of what he was saying, he was already interrupting your thoughts.

He barreled on, “So you want the truth? Here it is: I don’t know what’s going on with me ‘n Maria. It was easy when you weren’t here.”

His voice cracked.

“But now you are. And I don’t know if I can trust you not to…” He swallowed hard, “not to leave me again.”

There it was.

The last of his armor peeled away, piece by piece, until all that remained was the man you once knew. Heart in hand, afraid to give it away again.

You were panting warm breath into each other's mouths, seemingly both processing every sentence that was uttered between the two of you. 

It hit you, sinking deeper and deeper until you realized what you did. Six years ago you left him. You left Wabang, your family, his family, everything. It was easy for you to leave because you took nothing with the exception of your luggage. 

Six years ago you left a twenty year old Rhett to pick up the pieces, to do damage control of what you destroyed in your wake. 

Rhett endured every one of Perry’s outbursts, the outbursts you didn't hear of because you kept your distance. Rhett was the outlet of his family’s frustrations because of you. And all he could do was silently suffer, because no one knew he lost you too. 

“Rhett, I-” Your voice broke on his name, “I never-” 

A crack of lightning split the dark sky, searing white through the pine trees. 

You yelped, flinching hard as thunder chased it. Loud and violent, rolling straight through your chest. The clouds above broke open without mercy, unleashing a curtain of rain that drenched you both in seconds.

“Shit,” Rhett swore, instinctively drawing you closer. His hands slid from your jacket to your waist, gripping tightly, like holding you would somehow shield you from the downpour.

But it was too late. You were already soaked through. The cold water clung to your skin, your clothes heavy and sticking to every curve. Hair plastered to your cheeks, eyes blinking through water, you twisted in his grasp, jacket clutched uselessly around your shoulders.

“Fuck, where…” You turned in a frantic circle, trying to orient yourself. The bonfire was too far, there was no way you'd make it back without slipping or getting lost in the dark. Another streak of lightning tore across the sky, followed by a violent rumble of thunder that echoed through your ribs.

But where the fuck would you go instead?

“The rock!” Rhett shouted, barely audible over the roar of rain.

“What?” You yelled back, shoving soaked hair out of your eyes.

But he didn’t answer. He grabbed your wrist and took off, hauling you after him. Mud sucked at your boots and the trail blurred beneath the veil of water. You stumbled behind him, heart hammering, lungs burning, too breathless to speak and too afraid to stop.

He veered off the trail suddenly, ducking into the dense trees, branches slapping at your arms and snagging your clothes as you pushed through. Then, out of nowhere, you saw it.

The rock.

Not a rock, really a boulder. Tucked deep between a cluster of old pines, the base hollowed out by erosion and time. A natural alcove, just deep enough for shelter.

You didn’t know how Rhett had seen it, maybe he’d known it was there all along, but in the haze of rain and noise and panic, it looked like a miracle.

He dropped to his knees first, ducking beneath the overhang, then turned to pull you in with him. You scrambled after him, collapsing onto the damp earth, your back pressed to cold stone, water dripping from every part of you.

The storm raged just beyond the mouth of the shelter, wind lashing at the trees, rain hammering down on pine needles and leaves in a relentless drum.

But inside the hollow, it was dim. Quiet by comparison and close.

Too close.

You could barely catch your breath.

You sat with your knees pulled up, jean jacket wrapped tight around you, watching water trickle down the slope just a few feet away. Soaked to the bone. 

Rhett stayed close to you, sitting with his elbows on his knees. He hadn’t said a word since pulling you off the trail. His hat was off, sitting a bit away from his form, hair matted to his forehead.

The silence gnawed at you, “I’m sorry.” You said quietly, your voice nearly lost beneath the soft rumble of distant thunder.

Rhett didn’t turn to face you. But you saw his jaw clench, the flicker of breath in his chest. Breathing hard like the sprint had taken more from him than he’d admit.

He wiped a hand down his face and leaned back against the rock, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make it sound easy.” His voice was hoarse. You nodded hesitantly, dropping your chin to your knees as you looked out of the mouth of the shelter. Rain was still pelting the ground in front of you, humidity creeping its way closer to the two of you. 

“I’m not asking for a pass.” You mumble into your knees, “I wasn’t trying to leave you behind. I was just… running. From everything.” Your heart clenches as your mind walks you through old memories, the fear you remember the most being when you found that ring in Perry’s duffle. 

How scared you felt that you might end up trapped forever. 

Rhett sighed through his nose, head leaning back against the stone behind him. The rain was softer now, more like mist than fury. The sound of it filled the spaces where words couldn’t go.

The sudden zip of his Carhart drew your attention back to him, watching with curious eyes as he shrugged it off and tossed it into the dirt next to him. You lifted your head off your knees as he then started to unto the buttons on his dark green flannel.

“What are you doing?” You asked hesitantly, furrowing your brows as he struggled with the last few buttons near the bottom. 

“You're freezing. And your teeth chattering is makin’ me annoyed.” Despite the way he phrased it, there was not an ounce of venom in his voice as he pulled the flannel off and held it out to you. 

Gently, your fingertips came to your mouth, surprised that your teeth were chattering quite violently. 

Your heart caught somewhere between shame and something else- something soft.

Once you accepted the flannel, Rhett was already pulling the Carhart over his shoulders. You followed after him, sitting up on your knees to have more room. Your jean jacket made an audible plopping noise as you dropped it to the ground, the heavy fabric soaked through with rain. Already you felt warmer with it off, even warmer now with something dry covering you up.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw his face turn to you. You ignored his gaze, settling back down beside him, a little closer than earlier. 

Finally, you glanced over at him. His jaw was tight. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

“I meant it, you know.” You said, voice low, “I never meant to hurt you.”

His eyes flicked to yours, then away again, like looking at you too long would cost him something.

“You still did.”

You nodded slowly, “I know.”

The silence stretched again, but something inside it had shifted. The fight had burned off into something softer, quieter. Wounded still, but not sharp.

You moved a little closer, not touching him, just enough to close the space between your words and his silence. The rain outside grew louder again, a burst of wind driving it sideways against the rock. Instinctively, you reached for him, fingers brushing the roughness of his soaked jacket sleeve.

He flinched, barely. But didn’t pull away.

“I missed you.” You whispered. And it was true. The truest thing you had ever said in your entire twenty-nine years. 

So true, it ached. 

His voice came out rough, “I don’t know if I can let myself miss you. Not like before.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Your fingers found the cuff of his jacket, holding on like he would run, “But I don’t want to lie to you, either.”

He looked at you then, really looked. Water still clung to his lashes, his cheeks flushed from cold and emotion both. He looked like someone trying not to drown.

And then, slowly, carefully, he reached up and tucked a strand of wet hair behind your ear. His palm grazed your cheek, and your breath hitched.

You leaned into his hand, and when he didn’t pull away, you turned your face just slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his palm.

It wasn’t a kiss full of heat or resolution, it was quiet. Apologetic. A confession in a language both of you still barely spoke. Just a simple brush of your chapped lips to his warm flesh. 

When your eyes met again, he gave you a look you’d seen once before, years ago, under starlight outside of his house: vulnerable and unguarded, scared of the answer.

So when you leaned forward and kissed him, it wasn’t desperate. It was slow and soft. Like you were asking permission with every inch.

And for just a moment, he let you.

He kissed you back. Not deeply, not with abandon, but with the aching weight of someone who hadn’t stopped wanting this, even when he tried.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his eyes half-lidded.

“I can’t go back to how things were.” He murmured and you could still faintly smell the beer on his breath. 

“I’m not asking you to,” You whispered, “just… stay here. For now.”

He closed his eyes and nodded.

You were about to pull back when he pulled you back in, big fist twisting in the material of the flannel. Rhett’s chapped lips found yours once again, mouth moving tentatively against yours, as if he was asking permission but couldn't find the words. 

Kissing back with the same amount of tenderness, you let your eyes slip close. Slowly, as if not to spook him, you rose up on your knees to get a better angle, back hurting at the way you were twisted. 

Your mouth broke from his for just a second, but Rhett was already chasing you upwards. 

You steadied yourself against his broad shoulders, the pads of your fingers pressing in on his jacket as his hands drifted to your hips, skimming his fingers lightly over your sides. Your heart was pounding and your face was warm, his hands finally finding their place against your hip bones, thumbs pushing under the flannel and shirt to stroke against your bare skin. 

As you continued kissing him, one of your hands slowly moved upwards, cupping the sharp edge of his jaw. His stubble scratched against your cold skin, distracting you from the dirt digging into your knees from below. 

The rain and storm had faded from your memory, the only thing you could focus on now was the way Rhett pulled you into his lap, letting your knees fall to either side of his legs as you settled down on him. 

Those thick thighs slotting between your own, his strong arms pulling you close so your body was flush to his. 

Although it was clear that you wanted each other, the touches were kept tame. 

Still, you were kissing with closed mouths, only little slips of the tongue ever graced each other’s lips. Even your hands were respectful, Rhett’s never going any further than to rest on your lower back under the flannel. 

It was almost like you were seeing who would break first. Who would surrender and beg for more. Not in a teasing way, but in a way that would ruin you for the rest of your life. 

And it was looking like you might wave the white flag first. 

Cautiously, as if you didn't want to draw attention to it, you shifted your weight backwards, ass gently resting on the tops of his thighs. Slowly, you sat all your weight down. A little pang stung your heart at his warmth, skin buzzing with want. 

Rhett breaks the kiss and you freeze, worried that you pushed too far. His eyes are half-lidded when they meet yours, cheeks pink and so are the tips of his ears. 

Faintly, you can hear the rain behind you, but most of all the sharp cold smell of damp earth and pine surrounds the two of you, wrapping itself around you as if to reassure you it’s still there. 

He’s pushing you away, and you let him. 

It starts out as a hesitant nudge against your hips, his fingers wrapping around the flesh there. Then he’s averting his eyes, looking away as he firmly pushes you off of him. It’s not rude, not malicious, and you know that. 

But it hurts nonetheless. 

“‘s’too much.” He mutters once you are back in your own space, a respectable few inches between the two of you. And you nod, because it’s the only thing you can do. 

Leaning against the rock, you sigh through your nose, biting the inside of your cheek. The rain comes in waves, sometimes pelting the ground outside, only for the next minute for it to be just barely there. 

While you waited for it to die down, you messed around on your phone. Texting Beth back from her worried messages, wondering if you were okay. You had to hold your phone out and up, at a funny angle for it to even think about sending the text. 

Then, with your head back against the rock and your eyes half closed, his voice breaks through your almost-sleep, “Looks like it’s faded, lets go.” His tone is sudden and hard, like it was difficult for him to get the words out. 

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you awkwardly crawl out after him, taking the hand offering to help you up. 

You follow him out into the night, the air cold and damp, heavy with the smell of wet earth. The rain has finally stopped, but everything feels swollen with it. Like the world is holding its breath.

The walk back to your respective vehicles is eerily quiet.

-

You slept hard, too hard. The next morning passed in a blur of paperwork and heavy limbs. You didn’t hear from him at all. You didn’t expect to.

The work day crawls by, slow and gray, a clear sign that the colder months are settling in Wyoming. You scroll through texts you don’t respond to, wash clothes that weren’t dirty, and stare at your own reflection longer than you should in the dirty bathroom mirror.

When the sun starts to dip again, painting the sky in streaks of dull copper and muted indigo, a pressure builds low in your stomach. Like something’s coming, like the quiet is waiting to be broken.

It’s nearly nine when your phone rings. A shrill, confusing sound ripping its way through your dark living room that drowns out the movie you were watching. 

It’s an unknown number, which causes you to hesitate. Probably not a spam call, by the looks of the local 307 area code. Muting your movie, you answer and hold it close to your ear, sinking deeper into the worn couch. 

“Hello?” 

There’s a pause, long enough that has you thinking it just might be a spam call and you debate hanging up. 

The voice on the other end says your name, more like a question than a statement. It’s low and measured, female. 

“Yes, this is her. Who is this?” Your back stiffened as there was another pause. Something dark settled in your stomach. 

“This is Deputy Sheriff Joy Hawk with the Wabang Police Department. We’d like you to come in and give a statement.” The static makes her voice unsettlingly scratchy, hard to hear over the crackle. Your pulse flutters. 

“What’s uhm… What’s this about?” You clear your throat and sit up, picking at a loose fiber on the thigh of your sweatpants. 

“There was a body found this morning. Out in the field just past the Old Wind River Highway.”

You already know who. 

Joy continues carefully, “We believe the deceased may be connected to you or someone you may know.” 

Your breath doesn’t catch. You don’t drop the phone. You don’t say anything for a few seconds. Not because you’re panicking, but because you’re thinking. Trying to line up your thoughts, which suddenly feel like they’ve been spilled out of a well-organized drawer.

“I see…” You take in a shaky breath, chewing at your bottom lip, “Would this be able to wait until morning?” Your eyes flick to the watch sitting on your wrist. Now a bit past nine, but you have work tomorrow. 

Another pause. “We’d prefer to speak with you tonight, if possible.”

Glancing towards the window by your stairs, you see it’s rather dark. The kind of dark that has you drawing the blinds in fear you may see something out there that you don't want to. 

“Right. I live out in Lander so I-”

“Whenever you get here is fine. I'll see you soon.” Joy interrupts and ends the call abruptly, like something else grabbed her attention.  

You sit very still, your phone resting in your palm like it might ring again, taunting you as the movie keeps playing. The deafening silence settles again. 

And the movie still plays. It continues through a scene you've seen a million times before, and it makes you wildly uncomfortable. It still plays while he is dead. It didn't stop. You fumble with the remote and turn it off. 

You don't cry. Not because you don't feel anything, but because that feeling is complicated, sprawling, and you don’t have the energy or clarity to follow every thread of it right now.

Maybe you actually don't feel anything. Numb, something protecting you like an extra myelin sheath. 

You stand and move through your apartment slowly, methodically. You gather your things- keys, jacket, wallet. You don't bother changing out of your sweatpants and baggy top. Pausing only once, in the hallway mirror beside your front door.

Your face looks somewhat normal. Maybe a little gaunt. You wonder what they’ll see when you walk into the station. If they'll see just another name on a long list of people adjacent to the mess, or if they’ll see something else.

You leave.

-

The ugly fluorescent lights overhead buzz with quiet aggression, harsh against the ink-black sky outside. You can feel them needling into the base of your skull.

You freeze when you spot him.

Perry. 

His back is turned, shoulders hunched and rigid through a glass-paneled room behind the desk. When he glances over his shoulder, he doesn’t look dangerous.

He looks afraid.

You give your name at the front desk. The officer there barely glances up before waving someone over. There’s no waiting in the room, no pause. They were ready for you.

A younger officer escorts you to a narrow room with a window, the pane taking up a full wall and similar to Perry’s. You surrender your keys, phone, and wallet before stepping inside the open door, a small wooden chair waiting for you behind a matching table. 

The room was warmer than it needed to be, stale and uninviting. You take off your jacket and drape it over the backrest as you sit down. When you sit, you keep your spine straight. Not out of confidence, but because slouching would feel like giving something away.

It takes nearly twenty minutes before Joy enters. Her tan uniform wrinkled like she hadn't had the chance to change since coming into work this morning. Her smile, despite being guarded, is warm as she greets you, shaking your hand as you stand before her. 

“Thanks for coming in.” She says, gesturing toward the seat. “Shouldn’t take long.”

You nod and sit again, this time on the edge of the seat. You couldn't run, the door was already closed. But you just couldn't relax in the stifling room. Joy studies you for a beat. You meet her gaze, calm but unblinking. She’s already looking for cracks.

Forcing yourself to relax, you slouched a little bit, the backrest digging into your ribs uncomfortably. 

“How do you know Trevor Tillerson?” Joy asks as she perches herself on the edge of the table, reaching her arm out to steady herself on the flat surface. 

There it is. His name. 

“We went to high school together. We never really talked- didn't run in the same circles I guess." You explained, picking at a hangnail on your thumb. 

Your heart was pounding.

Joy nodded. You expected her to whip out a pen and some paper to start writing your story down, but she stayed put, long braids trailing over her rounded shoulders, “I understand you saw him last Wednesday, at the bar?”

“Briefly, yeah.” You brushed some hair from your face.

“Can you tell me about that night?” 

Hesitating, you look past her and out the window, keeping your head low. You couldn't see anything but a few plaques on the darker beige walls. 

You’re calculating how much to give her. If Perry’s here, Rhett has to be too. 

“I was feeling sick-” You started, looking back down to your hands, “So I went outside to… puke, I guess.” You were embarrassed to admit it out loud, as if she had not seen a decaying body that morning, “I saw Perry in an argument with Trevor and it was getting heated. Rhett came out and broke it up.”

Looking up, her eyes bore into your soul. Joy shifts her weight slightly, the movement subtle but deliberate. 

“Did Rhett and Trevor get into it?” Joy asked, pressing further. You get the sense that she already knew the answer to that question, the tone of her voice gave it away. It was more like she wanted you to confirm her suspicion. 

You nod, “A little pushing. Nothing serious.” A lie. Trevor’s bloody face resurfaced in your thoughts. You vaguely remember Rhett’s request to keep quiet about what happened when he met you in the street. 

“Was Maria there?”

Nodding, you hummed a confirmation, confused why Maria would be important at all to why Trevor’s body was resting in the morgue. 

“And she went home with Rhett?”

Your brow creases, “No. She left with her friends. Rhett walked me back inside. Then he left with Perry.” Your hands were wrung tight under the table. 

“So you saw the Abbott boys leave toge-” She started, furrowing her dark eyebrows.

You shake your head, interrupting her, trying to get your story straight, “I didn’t see them leave. But Rhett went out to get his truck through the front. Perry was the last one I saw with Trevor in the back.”

Joy’s fingers begin tapping a soft rhythm on the table. Her silence feels strategic.

“Alright. Sit tight. If you need anything, Matt’s outside.”

She’s gone before you can respond. The door clicks again. Heavier this time.

You sit in silence. The minutes pass slowly, marked only by the quiet cracking of your knuckles, one at a time, deliberate. You’re not restless. You’re burning through your nerves in controlled bursts.

When Joy returns, her tone has shifted.

“So were you with Rhett that night?” The question lands on you like a stone to your chest, making your face heat up at the insinuation. Joy knew all about you and Perry, it was hard not to in a small town. For her to even be suggesting that made you sick to your stomach. 

“I went home with my friend Beth Dellucci, I can give you her contact to verify.” The words were gritted out between your teeth, cheeks burning in embarrassment as you lowered your eyes to your shoes. 

“Alright boys! Let's get you home.” An unfamiliar man’s voice tore through the station.

Both your heads snap toward the sound. Joy mutters, “I’ll be back.” Her voice clipped as she left again. Even with the door shut with a heavy sound, you can still hear the faint sounds of arguing between a few people, more doors being slammed shut. 

You’re halfway out of the chair when she returns, this time holding everything you gave the younger officer. 

“You’re free to go. Save the number I called you on. We’ll likely need to follow up.”

You pause, standing up fully, “Why do you keep asking me about Rhett? Am I a suspect?” The words come out quiet, the door still being held open with her foot.

Joy lets out a long sigh through her nose, looking into the empty hallway before back at you, shutting the door so the two of you are alone again, “Because earlier today Maria falsely created an alibi for Rhett and told Matt she was with him.” Her words were hushed, “She admitted that she lied but informed me that you were the last one she saw him with.” 

“But I went home with Beth, Rhett walked me to her.” You tried explaining again. You had no idea what happened after Rhett left to get his truck. 

“Trevor’s body was found in one of the Abbott’s pastures.” Joy’s voice was sharp, stinging. But it was nothing compared to the freeze that gribbed your spine. You felt like you might suffocate. 

“So my question still stands.” Joy continues, seemingly satisfied at your shocked reaction so you finally understand why the Abbotts are so important to this, “Rhett was missing for two very important hours and no one can confirm where he was.”

-

The night air hits you like a slap- cool, sharp, alive in a way the interrogation room never was. For a second, you just breathe. The sky above is full of little stars, and the parking lot glows under flickering overhead lamps, each one casting a pale halo on the dry gravel.

Then you see them.

Perry, pacing like a caged animal near the hood of his old pickup truck, cigarette clenched tight between his fingers. Rhett leans against the passenger door of another nearby truck, arms crossed, jaw tight. And Royal, standing between them like a man holding a tight leash on two fighting dogs.

They see you before you can decide whether to turn back.

Perry’s wild, red-rimmed eyes lock on you, “You.” He spits, taking a step forward, “What’re you doin’ here? Dragging our names through like we’ve got anything to do with it.”

Rhett doesn’t move. His gaze shifts to the ground, but you catch the flick of his eyes in your direction. He knows something.

“Perry…” Royal warns, voice low.

“Joy called me, I didn't choose to come here tonight.” You snapped back, planting your feet firmly to the rocks, “And I didn't drag anyone, I told the truth.”

Perry’s already moving closer, arms flaring out from his sides, cigarette forgotten and burning between two fingers, "You're full of shit. What the fuck did you say about us?” All bluster and rage, but you see the fear under it. 

Bubbling up in every twitch of his jaw.

And although you stand your ground, Perry looks at you. That same dead look he gave you outside the bar. Swaying, looking past your form. 

“That’s enough Perry.” Royal barks at him, dropping a heavy hand upon his shoulder. It causes him to look away from you, relieving you of the hold his eyes had on you. 

“I didn't kill him.” Perry hissed at you, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than you. You stare at Perry, heart knocking against your ribs now. 

He’s not trying to clear his name. He's trying to redirect blame. Push it around like a virus no one wants to touch. And you realize something important.

He’s not scared you’ll think he did it.

He’s scared you know something.

“What did you do to him, Perry?” The words come out soft and bare, raw as you ask him truthfully. 

He lunges.

Not far. Not enough to touch you. But his whole body jerks forward, and it’s Royal’s hand that stops him by gripping the arm of his jacket. Rhett pushed himself off of the truck and quickly crossed the short distance, yanking Perry back from you by his elbow. 

You're frozen in time, watching as Perry pants like he’s just run a mile. Something shifts in his eyes again, realizing something.

Pushing the other two men away from him, he storms back to his truck, slamming the door behind himself. Royal follows reluctantly, muttering something to himself as he climbs in his own truck. 

Rhett lingers, hesitating near you. 

“He thinks everyone’s out to get him.” Rhett murmurs. 

You meet his eyes, “Should they be?”

Rhett doesn’t answer. He just exhales through his nose, gaze dark and distant. Then he walks back to his dad’s truck.

Both vehicles roar to life, tearing away before they've even warmed up properly, the night swallowing them up.

But the question stays with you. 

And you don't feel safe anymore in Wyoming. 

See me on AO3 as Creatchie8 too for a full list of tags & more!

Tag List: @keepingitlokiii @deadlybeauty16 @beebeerockknot @scrunchylew @qutequeersstuff

[partyanimal167]

Okay so I SHOULD be working on the next chapter of my Miguel fic...and I promise I am. But I can't stop thinking about this post from @luxthestrange with my lovely man, Crocodile (also ignoring the fact that I'm behind on updating his fic by alot...) So here's a little something to get the writer vibes flowing

cw: none, blurb, one-sided pining, gn reader

Sir Crocodile x Ex-Secretary!Reader

You never thought that you'd end up having a WANTED poster, but you made some questionable choices as a youth which made entering the 'normal' world extremely hard and ultimately not worth it after awhile.

You did managed to get a desk job, but that didn't last long when it was revealed to have owed some money to a dangerous, business-smart pirate named Sir Crocodile. Amidst the raid, you were called out by said captain as it was your questioning of the numbers and certain other connections that brought some attention to what your then-boss was doing. (Oops). Either way, you expected to get interrogated then disposed of.

You got a handshake and job offer instead.

Now of course, you didn't immediately join Crocodile's side, but he noticed your attention to details and ease of conversing with even the seemingly shadiest of connects. Crocodile didn't think you were a pirate, but you certainly weren't a normal civilian either.

The secretary offer came after Crocodile witnessed you boldly standing up to one Warlord (Doffy) when he tried to barge into Crocodile's office while he was on a phone call. You were merely passing by. But you knew that Sir Crocodile didn't like to be interrupted, and the secretary then wasn't holding his place against the giant man.

Doflamingo was pissed. But Crocodile approved.

So then started the years of partnership and endless work where you kept tabs and details organized for Crocodile's use while you were rewarded in both finances and work benefits.

You enjoyed it, so you were a bit let down when things hit the fan and your boss in jail.

However, you were able to start an underground consulting business while hiding from the Marines. It was quite successful. When news came of Crocodile's escape, it was easy enough to track him down and send him a wealth of information ranging from old contacts to accounts that were still untouched. As a courtesy...

Sir Crocodile was quick to send over a bouquet of flowers and a beautiful invitation to welcome you back to working for him. You gracefully declined citing your new business adventure and gave warm wishes.

And so started a relentless array of attempts of winning you back. Several initial consultations for 'new clients' were just lunches of the man trying to convince you. Each time, you'd just sit and listen before taking the check for your time. Gifts of your favorite fragrances, coffees, pastries, and the like were always welcoming you either home or to your office. It did surprise you a bit how much the man knew about you. Your actual clients seemed to nervous to be caught between you both since Crocodile was trying to scare them off, and you were stern in getting your demands and continuing your work.

After some time though, it had been silent. You caught wind of Crocodile's new partners, and you felt some relief that others were able to take on and work with the man. Things would be easier now. You'd both cross paths maybe as partners or each other's clients in the future.

A knock at the door rattles your calm evening and tea. You stood from your living room and peek out your peephole. However, you didn't see anything. You were just about to walk away when you could've sworn you smelled a familiar robust smoke and opened the door.

You nearly gasped when you see Crocodile on his knees with the largest ramo of lilacs, Adam's needles, and roses you'd ever seen--although they were on the ground under his hand. He looked up at you with both desire, stress, and relief.

He puffed out his smoke before yanking out his cigar and pleading. "You are the most competent, skilled, and amazing person I know. I need you back in my life even more now. Please dear, come back to me."

~~~

Teehee

[thomase1]

Two broken make a whole; chapter 6

Series masterlist Main masterlist

Yup, back again.

Please be aware, this is the first smut i have ever written (yes its been in my drafts that long) and one can only do so much to save a catastrophe. :,) The foreplay is way too detailed for my taste, but somehow i just couldnt cut it. Lots of kissing omg, this rlly is kinda mid, sorry.

Warnings: Smut, masturbation, fingering, ¿loss of virginity?, probably some corruption, awkwardness, fluff, worried reader, tender Loki, big time jump

Wordcount:~4.300 of pure filth and brainless fluff (oops)

Or in other words: that escalated quickly

Its now been a little over 6 months the gods have been living here. While you enjoy Thor being here and notice Loki settle in as well, one thing becomes clearer with each passing day.

Loki is your kryptonite. You have never felt such a strong attraction to anybody. His constant flirting and teasing do not make it any easier.

Its like hes been pestering you on purpose after that unfortunate mission months ago. Everywhere you went, he just casually appeared or was already there. Hell, even the helipad wasnt safe.

And the cocky demeanour and ambiguous statements really have been takeing down your walls one brick at a time. Its quite embaressing how quickly one god can wreck the walls youve built up for as long as you can remember.

So now youre here, late at nigh, lying in bed after an eventful, tiring, day. But of course, you couldnt sleep.

You didn't mean to, but you thought of Loki. You've never had relations with somebody before, at least not that you remember of, which is problematic at your age and with your stress level.

Maybe thats why your body is reacting so ferociously to Loki. The thought of him is makeing you all tingly, you cant help but sigh in pent up sexual frustration.

You are engrossed in finding relief and relaxation, which doesn't always work for you. Actually never, yeah, you've never managed to climax before. Or maybe you just expected more of a feeling? You are not quite sure. But it defently isnt satisfying your need.

You concentrate on your movements, in your imagination you see Loki in front of you. You've seen him shirtless a few times, which worsened your interest even further. Damn why must he be a hot villain too.

Well, he is an ally now, yes, but he is still Loki Laufeyson.

You keep concentrating, attempting to avoid thining of him, trying to picture hot actors or just anybody but him.

Suddenly your dark room brightens with a green shimmer.

Loki appears and you quickly hide under your covers.

"I know you're awake Y/N," the intruder says. You don't answer and pretend to be asleep.

"I heard your rapid breathing as I passed your door. I know what I'm interrupting." he teases in a singsong voice.

Damn how embarrassing, your breath catches in your throat.

"Oh, don't be embarrassed. Unless you were thinking about me Y/N, of course that would be a rather peculiar situation, huh?" he purrs provocatively, his voice getting even closers.

He can read minds, you know that, but you didn't think he could do it without even seeing the person.

"Oh, so you're not even denying it. Interesting. There's quite a bit I can do that you don't know about, kitten.", he continues.

Goosebumps form all over you, leaving you to shiver under the covers. He's right next to your bed.

"So Y/N, are you in need of assistance?", you can hear the smirk in his voice.

You try to think of nothing which is near impossible when consciously trying. Especially in the middle of getting yourself off.

"I heard your thoughts before, about you finding it hard to get a high. I just want to help you."

"How long were you listenig you little shit?!", you snap, throwing the blanket off your face huffing.

"Long enough to know how desperate you are."

"Cant you just leave and forget about this, please?", you mumble ashamed.

"But where is the fun in that? Come on now, its a win for both of us. Promise I wont tell.", he sits down at the edge of your bed.

Should you just accept? As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you get nervous. Cheeks burning, hands sweaty and heart racing.

"Do you fancy me that much, getting nervous like this?", he asks grinning.

You dont know if you should punch him or fuck him right now. He is so infuriating.

"I dont fancy you! Its just my hormones going crazy ok? Dont flatter yourself!", you hiss. Why must he torture you like this?

"Yea sure it is.", he says sarcastically.

You dont respond.

"Oh come on Y/N, do you really think you can finally reach your high this time? Just take it as a favor."

He sounds so sincere all of a sudden, what the hell? Well, god of mischief and lies, aint he?

"A favor? Dont act like you dont just want an easy girl for a night, but i am anything but easy.", you scoff bitterly. If there is one thing your job taught you, its to be suspicious of everything and everyone.

He sighs, "No, I dont think of you as easy. I admit I havent engaged in sexual activities for quite some time either, but what of it? It would stay between us, we would both profit from it."

He really sounds thruthful and his tone is kind of... tender? And for a moment the though of just accepting the offer crosses your mind again. It sounds simple enough, but you just dont know if you can trust him.

"Listen, I am entirely truthful right now. What would I gain by bragging about having sex with you? I am no school boy seeking validation Y/N. I believe here on Midgard you say, 'A gentleman doesnt tell.'."

"Will you please stay out of my thoughts?!"

"I can do that.", he smirks.

It actually makes sense though, he isnt friends with the others, why would he tell them? "Ok Loki, just promise me again, this stays between the two of us.", you awkwardly reach out your hand to him, attempting to seal the deal by a handshake.

He, however, grabs your hand and places a gentle kiss on your knuckles, "I promise. I know the past has not been kind to you either, I wish no harm to you.".

This gesture throws you off completely, you are not used to such tender affection. Your worry about trusting him eases a bit, a smile crosses your lips.

But now when you think about it, what if only he gets a profit out of it? When you cant get it yourself, what makes him so sure he will? You already expect a response from the god, but it seems he is keeping his word.

"On another note, what makes you so sure you can even help me with my *you gulp* struggle?", you ask with shaky voice.

He gives a deep chuckle, "Because I've gained some experiece in over a thousand years of living. So, shall we start?".

"Uhh, yea I guess.", as those words leave your lips, he gently sinks his lips onto yours.

You are surprised for a second, but return the kiss after a few moments. Its been some time since you kissed or made out, but you get into it pretty quickly. He leans forwart to you, one hand on your cheek. The kiss is deep with passion, his tongue asking permission to explore. You grant him entrance and he begins his route of discovery.

You grab the back of his neck, pulling him down so he is closer to you. He nibbles at your bottom lip and you cant keep a gasp from escaping you. Your tongues start to dance with each other, fighting for dominance. As you break apart for air her stops for a moment.

You hear him takeing off his shoes and crawl into your bed, now hovering over you. You cant help but giggle, seeing his determined expression lit by only the little light to your right.

You expect a cocky comment but instead your lips meet again. The kiss now just as determined as Lokis expression. It sends a warm feeling through your stomach, down to your core.

You lay your hands on his shoulders, traveling down his firm muscular arms. His hands start to wander too, from your back, over your ribs down to your waist where they stay with a firm grip.

You suck at his bottom lip and he takes a surprised breath. You smile into the kiss which leads him to lay his hands on your bare bottom and give it a hard squeeze. You let out a small yelp of surprise. He gives you a low chuckle and trails his lips off yours, down your cheek to your ear.

His hand moving up to steady himself again, the other one stroking a strand of hair from the path of his lips, he kisses behind your ear and starts nibbling at your earlobe, feeling his warm breath. You are overwhelmed with these new sensations.

Your hands travel to his chest, down his sturdy stomach, sixpack apparent to the touch. Then you wander further to the hem of his shirt, under it and up his torso again. His skin is soft. As he is assaulting your neck, he stops, "Like what youre feeling?", voice full with pride.

"Not bad, I must admit.", you giggle to which he only smirks and takes off his shirt.

Instantly your eyes wander down his bare chest and stomach. Wow. Pure eyecandy. He goes back to kissing your ear, but now the other one. The way he lets you feel him up so extensively while only gently kissing you, it feels like he wants to show you he is no threat to you. Maybe you are just imagining that, but it does make you more comfortable with the god.

As he does just that, you feel around his sides to his broad back and shoulders. And for the first time, a man above you with strong muscles does not make you panic. No, its hot. It feels strangely safe. He starts to trail down your neck, pulling down your shirt collar to reach your collarbone. You let out a tiny moan, you didnt know you were so sensitive in that spot.

You can feel your middle getting, shamefully, damp.

Lokis hand reaches the bottom of your shirt, starting to pull it up a bit. You grab his hands, stopping his movement. "What is it?", he asks hoarsly.

You swallow, "I- I was just getting a bit nervous, sorry.", you say shy.

You have quite a lot of insecurities lurking under the fabric of your shirt, accompanied by many scars, ugly reminders of past battles. While you feel more comfortable with him not harming you, letting him see all of you is still terrifying.

"Dont apologize, I'm glad you told me about it but I am without my shirt too, its only fair!", he grins.

"But then I'm completely naked!", you protest. Honestly, you are just afraid he is going to say sometehing hurtful.

"I do apologize for breaking my word but I was curious. Come on dear, I am sure you look beautiful. You can trust me.", he says so sweet, you think honey may start to drip from his lips. You blush at the sweet remark.

"Ok, just dont tell me if I prove you wrong.", you say, removing your hands from his.

"Oh nonsense my dear, even I wouldnt stoop so low. Especially when it isnt true, you are stunning.", Loki says waiting for you to trust him it seems.

You smile softly at his words, cupping his face and kissing him, leaving him gasping for air. He deepens the kiss again as you feel him slowly pulling your shirt back up.

Bare before him, you can feel his eyes before you even see them and your heart begins to race. You feel so exposed and vulnerable under his gaze, starting to move your arm to cover yourself. "Gorgeous. Ravishing, as I told you darling.", he coos.

He starts feeling up your stomach, to your ribs, settling on your breasts. Your stomach explodes with butterflies as relief washes over you.

As you start feeling around his wall of torso again he starts kissing your collar bones and boobs. You play with his hair, you always wanted to, it just looks so nice and it is as soft as it looks, smelling like lilac and mint.

You start to fondle with his scalp and can feel his shoulders relaxing. He definitely likes that. He showers your whole body with kisses and is slowly moving south, his long hair tickling you down his path. You keep massaging his head as you grip his shoulder with your free hand.

To say it pretty clearly, you are horny as fuck right now.

He is trailing down your hip, slowly moving your covers away as he is kissing down your thigh, takeing his sweet time which is, quite frankly, driving you insane. In the best way possible. As he kisses more and more to the middle of your thighs, you cant help but grip his hair firmly and letting out a small moan.

You feel your sex getting hot and twitchy. His hands are moving towars your middle and you feel a finger sliding over your lips. "So wet for me kitten, you want me to make you feel good now?", he purrs from between your thighs.

You feel his breath fanning agains your skin giving you goosebumps all over. "Yes, oh god yes.", you plead, urgency obvious.

"Say please.", he taunts, finger still stracing up and down.

"Please Loki. Please.", you plead with even more urgency.

And then finally he does; tongue caressing your most sensitive spot, hands pushing your legs apart. Your grasping at his hair harder again as you cant hold back a moan. It feels incredible. You claw into the sheets but keep your other hand in his hair, frankly, you have no control over it right now.

You let out a breath of surprise as he sinks a finger into you and starts moving it, makeing you whine in pleasure. He reaches a spot which feels so good, its unlike anything you felt before. And you think he knows that you feel good, keeping his movement exactly on that sweet spot of yours. Its sending waves of pleasure up my stomach. You move your hips feeling so good, arching your back off the bed as he takes a second finger.

"You taste exquisite.", he purrs as he gets some air into him.

Just as you think of an answer to that, he starts again. He sucks at your bundle of nerves, pushing you to arch your back again. Your whole body feels hot with lust.

You just wish you could touch him too right now, this feels a bit selfish letting him pamper you like this while he gets next to nothing. Arent you surpossed to give him something in return? And then he stops all of a sudden which you comment with a sad face. "Stop overthinking dear, just enjoy it. I will take care of you first, I'll have my fun soon enough.", he assures you, obviously having listened to your thoughts again.

He shifts and kisses you gently. You can taste yourself which somehow turns you on even more. He starts moving his fingers, thumb now rubbing your clit. The kiss gets heated as you lay your arms around his neck, pulling him close. He moves his fingers faster and faster as you claw at his back out of pure arousal.

He sits up, moves his lips from yours and uses his second hand to stroke your clit now. You let out a moan, you think you are nearing a climax.

He moves faster and faster as you cant hold back little croaked mewls. He watches your face like his life depends on it, feeling Lokis clothed cock press into your thigh which turns you on even more.

You swear you are so near an orgasm, you no longer hold control over your body, hips pressing into your helpers hands looking for further friction. Your crys of arousal growing more and more, Loki starts cooing sweet encouragements at you.

"Thats it dear. Dont hold back."

"Come on kitten, come undone for me."

"Dont resist it. Let it all out darling."

Those sinful words spoken so sweetly tumble you over the edge. "Oh g-od, Loki, I think I'm gonna com-e", you say with a sharp cry.

"Thats it Darling, come for me. Give into it.", he supports.

Just like that you reach your high. You claw at the sheets, head jolting back as your body arches into his hand. "There it is. Beautiful.", you hear Loki from a distance.

You feel your whole body shiver. While still in the process of climaxing, Loki keeps moving his fingers inside of you. Your hips are moving on their own, rubbing against his hand. You feel your body quake as you hold onto him and he pulls you closer into a sloppy kiss.

Just as you relax and lean back, body done twitching, he pulls his fingers out of you. You lay down catching your breath and he lays down next to you. He snakes his arm under your back, pulling you into his chest. His hand hovers over you back, softly raking against it.

"Held my word, didnt I?", he whispers into your ear sending shivers down your spine again.

"You certenly did.", you mumble into his chest on which you are drawing circles with your fingertips.

He lays a hand on your cheek and lets it stay there. You close your eyes and enjoying a kind of relaxation and peace youve never felt before.

"Would you like us to go further today?", he asks while stroking your head.

"You know what, yes, I trust you.", you say turning to him with a smile.

He shifts so he can meet your lips. Its not a passionate kiss, it feels more... loving? No, that can't be it. You cant describe it but it makes your heart flutter for a moment.

"I just remembered, I dont have a condom and I dont have one in my room either.", he says, surpising you of beeing so responsible in his excitement.

Said excitement beeing very noticable, urgendly pressing into your side. The question of how he even knows about eartly forms of contraception is a question for another time, you think to yourself.

"Oh, its alright, I'm on the pill.", you say, which surprises him apparently.

"Why are you on the pill when you dont have a partner?", he asks suspicious.

"Ive gotten it because of my acne and symptoms of my period.", you explain kind of hurt he is so suspicious of you.

"Very well then.", he says and gets up.

You sit up too, blanket clutched over your chest. "You think its gonna hurt?", you ask the question every girl has.

"What do you mean? I wont hurt you dear.", he says dubfounded.

"Oh, so you didnt hear that part. Well-", you stop, so embarassed you wish to vanish from earth.

"Are you trying to tell me you actually never slept with someone?", he asks soft but also curious.

"It just never- got to that. At least not to my knowledge, if you remeber the mystery about my name.", you mumble bashful.

"Right, sorry darling, that is fine.", he says softly, "I dont think it will hurt, at least not badly since you already had the pleasure.".

You smile dumbly, your mind racing back to other, filthier, thoughts. Hot breath makeing your mind foggy as tongues collide once again. He pulls you closer, so close you feel his cock nudge up at your stomach. You wander down to his waistband, wanting to feel him.

He smirks and snaps his fingers, suddenly naked in front of your very eyes. Well, you cant exactly see but defently feel his excitement. Your hands basically wander on their own, touching his hips and sliding to his sex, leaving him gasping as you stroke him once.

He lays his head on your shoulder and lets his fingers meet you most sensitive spot again, giving him a appreciative moan. You keep your fingers around his throbbing cock, pleasing him as you like. He lets out a tiny moan which makes you quite proud of yourself.

You sink your head back into your shoulders, enjoying his skilled touch. You quicken your movement, makeing him stop for a second to catch himself, it appears like. That may be because you are not stopping with the teasing. You enjoy seeing him off his high horse. His tense face is a nice sight as well. "Y/N- should we takes this further now?", he groans.

"What do you think we are working towards?", you taunt with a giggle.

He looks into your eyes a little more seriously, "I am asking your consent, kitten-".

You only mouth an "oh". You stop your motions, makeing him relax against you slightly.

"Am I right to take that as a yes?"

You nod, biting your lip.

"Oh my sweet, you dont even know how crazy you drive me. I will make you write in extacy.", he whispers against your shoulder, pressing himself against you. You barely hold back an audible gasp, instead sinking your hands down his back, "And you dont even know what kinds of sensations you bring me.".

"Oh I think I do." He slides down your sloulder, feeling him spreading sloppy kisses all over your cleavage, you grip his hair thightly as he moves his hips to meet yours. You feel him throbbing against your wetness.

"Ready darling?", he asks attentively, lightly pressing against you.

"I think so.", you say anxiously.

He leans forwart and gives you a chaste kiss, swallowing your lips as he sinks into you slowly. The kiss breaks from the vulgar sounds now echoing off the walls. You grimace a bit because it does feel a bit weird, but after a few seconds you get used to the feeling. He stays still for you to adjust, his jaw flexing in concentration.

That jaw... Oh lord that jaw.

"It doesnt hurt. I dont know if thats good or bad.", you whisper against his lips.

The question you had for years starts to resurface. Scenes that picture your own personal horror movie start to plague your imagination.

"Dont overthink it too much sweetheart, just enjoy the moment.", he soothes.

You exhale, calming your mind down from the scary szenarios almost takeing over. You are here, you are safe, nothing you dont want will happen.

"Are you alright?", he watches you and cups your cheek. He looks concerned. You lean into his touch, finding comfort in his caring demeanour.

"I think I am.", you whisper, looking at him, his eyes.

"Is it ok if we continue then? Excuse my blunt choice of words but it is rather difficult to withhold me fucking you into this matress right now.", he says calm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Insatiable bastard. You shut him up with a kiss, figuring that counts as an answer. He smirks and starts lightly thrusting his hips. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Gradually, his speed increases and now, every time he reaches that one spot deep within you, you get pushed up the mattrass a bit more. By now you are pressed against the headboard. "Where do you think your going?", he asks, gripping your hips and yanking you down to him again with one firm pull, "I'm not done with you yet.".

You whine as he pounds into you ruthlessly, bis tip barely off that spot before he crashes into it again. Your toes curl and your fingers grip a fist full of his hair as he cups the back of your head, pressing you into his chest.

The room is filled with the sounds of sex.

You feel yourself nearing a climax, heatwaves coursing through your body. "I- think I'm... cl- close-", you croak hoarsly.

"Me too darling.", he growls.

You pull him down by grabbing his neck, wanting more of him. You press yourself into him as much as you can, earning a low groan as reward.

"Come for me Y/N! Say my name as you come for me!", he commands, thumb harshky stroking your clit.

You scratch at his back...nearing... nearing... "I'm gonna co-", you whimper.

Your back arches and your body errupts into a shudder as every muscle of your body goes rigid. Only croaked crys of pleasure are able to leave your throat.

"S-ay my name Y/N, gods let me h-ear yo-u-", he groans, about to climax too.

"Lok-i, oh g-od, fuck.", you let out with a cry as him still trusting into you prolongues your high. With a low, beast like, growl he thrust into you hard one last time, feeling him spill into you.

He pulls out and falls next to you. The thick smell of sweat in the air is somehow really comforting to you. You nestle against his chest and he sneaks an arm around you. You come down from what you just did together, his quickened heartbeat just under your ear.

About to fall asleep on him, he suddenly moves and sits up. "What are you doing?", you ask, kind of sad the cuddles ended so soon.

"I saw you were falling asleep so I figured I'd leave now and let you rest.", he explains softly.

You hate to admit it, but something inside you doesnt want to be alone right now.

"Could you maybe stay? If not an inconvenience of course.", you ask shy.

"Of course dear.", he says with an understanding nod, smiling warmly. Loki slips back into bed, taking you into his arms once more. You pull the covers over you two and soon drift off to sleep.

Tbmaw: @fictive-sl0th @vbecker10 @fictional-hooman @mischief2sarawr @maple-seed @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @theaudacitytowrite @gigglingtiggerv2 @marygoddessofmischief @goblingirlsarah @oceandeepthirst @lokisgoodgirl @fallenlostarchives @kalinaselennespeaks @sid-prescottx @assemblingavenger @loki-n-hvitserk @crzyplantladyvibes @yoongissidebitchh @cakesandtom

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[greetingfromthedead]

20. S.O.S.

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3k This chapter has been beta-read by kn1vesm

Author's Note: Once again I am sad to announce that Apple Blossoms will be on a break until further notice, and this time it will actually be a longer one since there are other things requiring my full attention. But don't worry, I will absolutely return to this story! In the meantime, feel free to join our little Discord community where I might drop some breadcrumbs and maybe even an exclusive look at the scrapped enemies-to-lovers story? :O Be sure to follow me to never miss an update!

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High-pitched barks start as soon as you step off the stairs, like a security alarm. The tiny fluffy dog hurries over across the faded carpet but calms down immediately as you come into view. It wags its tail happily and turns around to return to Lucille, who waits by the reception in her voluptuous nightgown. She yawns as she picks up the dog, who seems to vibrate with excitement.

"You really had to leave this early?" Lucille asks with disappointment as she strokes the dog's soft fur.

"Sorry, but this way we have the most daylight for travel. Days are short enough as is." You smile apologetically. "And you didn't need to send us off; I could have just put the keys back myself like usual."

"Nonsense. I had to see you two before you disappear for another year," she says while shuffling closer. "And it might be my last chance to lay my eyes on that handsome fellow whom you've been hiding from me! It is very unfair of you!"

"You're imagining things!" You reply with mock outrage, even though you know that she is right; you have been avoiding her.

"After I provided you two with the best room in the house as well!" she shakes her head with disappointment.

"You could have warned us about the shared bathroom," you mumble.

"Did I not?" She feigns ignorance. "Oops!"

You notice the tiredness leave her body as mischief takes over.

"Are you sure we can't pay for the rooms?" You prod again.

"I absolutely am!" Lucille puffs out her chest, "So if you insist on leaving, then we are done here. You owe me nothing! And I do expect to see you again! I will always find room for you here, even if I have to personally kick someone else out. And don't wait so long to return next time. Or at least write me a letter and let me know how you're doing. I worry about you!"

Lucille's demeanor softens, and she walks over to you, taking your hand and squeezing it to drive her point across. It is obvious from the lines on her face that she does care. She is sad to see you go, and you feel a bit guilty for avoiding her while you've stayed in town. You should come back once you get things sorted with your supplies, Knives, and Silvercrest.

"And you!" Lucille turns to Knives, who stands a step behind you. "Take care of my savior! You hear me? There are too many people who would be distraught if something bad were to happen to this angel! And while you're at it… don't wait too long to make up your mind. Someone else might snatch up what you want while you're sitting on a fence. No matter how handsome you are."

"Lucille!" you squeeze her hand, a frown creating a crease between your brows.

"What? I didn't say anything that wasn't true!" she makes herself sound as innocent as possible before laughing and letting go of you. "Take care! I hope to see you soon!"

It is bittersweet to leave this town in the early hours of the morning. The sky is still dark and the streets are quiet as you make your way to the gate. You're let through without issue, and together with the howling winds, the suns appear too—slowly creeping over the horizon, casting a warm glow over the land. Each step forward makes your stomach feel heavier. After all, you are heading towards Octovern.

Knives is plagued by a sense of… something. He expected relief, as he is finally out of that room. He has some freedom back; he is in the open desert, just like he had wanted with all his being just a few days ago. But now that there is nothing but dunes in front of him as far as the eye can see, he does not feel relief. He doesn't know what this feeling is or why it has settled in his gut that is already overcrowded with butterflies and black holes. All he knows is that it's not going away. He shifts his gaze to you. He looks at the back of your head as the strong winds whip your cloak around you. At least this time you are alone on your tomas, no more unwanted guests to make Knives's blood boil. He doubts he would be able to just stand by and watch this time.

There is also Lucille's request that got stuck in his head. He was asked to take care of you. What does it even mean? Does she expect him to protect you? It seems like a fool's errand. You are always way too eager to dive in headfirst. Do you even want to live with an attitude like that? And how ironic for anyone to ask for him to protect a human. If anything, he is a bigger threat to you than any man. Or so it used to be. Something has changed. Actually, a lot has changed. Knives's hands seem incapable of hurting you at this point. There is no distaste left in him towards you. His body is drawn to you, not at all repulsed by a human being. It is as if Knives has gotten stuck in your orbit, unclear if the trajectory will pull him closer or eventually push him away again. To his terror, it appears that he doesn't mind this.

Knives pushes for his tomas to move a bit quicker until he catches up to you, his ride falling in line with your bird. Knives sees you turn your head toward him with a slight smile, and his heart does a little leap in his chest—his heart skipped a beat. Just like described in those grandiose poems in the book. Knives tries to ignore it.

"How did you save Lucille's life?" he asks, raising his voice to shout over the wind.

"Huh?" you ask in return, not able to pick out what he said over the roaring gale.

Knives takes a deep breath, ready to shout even louder to be heard, but catches himself before he can do that, holding on to his dignity. He gives a little wave with his hand, letting you know it is not important, and then turns his gaze back to the horizon, where the suns are climbing their way up. He is disappointed, cursing the strong winds for making it nearly impossible to talk to you. He wants to hear your voice; strangely, he wants it to fill the air like it did when he first woke up in your house.

Your gaze lingers on him a while longer. He tried to tell you something, or maybe he asked something? You aren't sure, but it made you happy regardless. He spoke to you. Voluntarily. On his own accord. It makes you nearly as happy as when he first talked to you. It brings a smile to your face. You will definitely return to this potential conversation once it is possible to hear the other and the wind doesn't kick up sand into your mouths.

The next settlement should come soon enough; depending on how the toma hold up, it might even come too soon, and you would waste a lot of daylight if you spent the night there. But then again, it would be better to stay in a settlement; it would be safer in every way. You ponder about it, weighing your options while turning your eyes forward. There probably wouldn't be any big worms to worry about. Less likely to encounter bandits who would take you as easy targets. You could purchase food and water, saving your rations. If you get lucky, Knives can sleep in a clean bed, reducing the risk of infection. But on the other hand, there are people, and they could recognize him. You are too close to Octovern, things are riskier; the military police and Earth's forces can catch up to you in a blink of an eye in their cars. You don't stand a chance. You also don't come to these parts too often; you don't have much of a reputation to fall back on. You doubt you could talk your way out if something were to go south.

Knives keeps glancing over while you are deep in thought. He can tell from the furrow of your brow that you are wrestling with something. He wants to ask, but you wouldn't hear him anyway, so he keeps his mouth shut. He guesses it is about Octovern. You are heading straight for it now, as far as he can tell. There was a time when that would make him cautious, perhaps even worried, but at this point, he feels at ease with you. The nagging thought of you handing him over has disappeared. You would have done so already if it were your plan. You wouldn't look so nervous if that were the case.

For the first time in a while, Knives starts to wonder about the future. What it might hold for him. And you. He finds himself rooting for you, hoping that you will succeed in finding a supplier so you can keep doing what you have been for a long time. He wonders when his wound will heal and what comes after. Will you push him to go and find his own way? It would make sense, yet Knives can't begin to guess what he would do. He has been relying on you to guide him in this world that has come after his failure. He can't even imagine going off on his own. Somehow, you are always there in the future that conjures itself in his brain. Perhaps the strangest part about this train of thought is that for once, Knives doesn't mind the way you invade his brain.

Knives takes care of the toma while you prepare to make dinner. He strokes their long, feathered necks as they drink the water he offers and let out cooing sounds of contentment. Knives has his back towards you, allowing you to watch him in peaceful admiration. His demeanor has changed. He did show some affection towards the birds even before, but right now he seems more open, genuine. It's as if he has finally let down his guard, even just a little bit.

"What did you say earlier, after we left Fairvale?" you ask him now that you have left the merciless winds behind.

"Nothing important," he replies, not turning towards you, instead feeding the birds some grain from his palm.

"You can tell me anyway," you say softly and click on the little gas burner.

"I was just wondering how you saved Lucille's life." The words slip from his mouth before he can catch them by the tail. He should watch what he says; he should keep his walls up, but it has become so hard with you. He wants to hear your voice; he wants to feel your brave gaze that doesn't look at him like he is insane, like he is a villain. It is an impossible thing to admit to himself, so he remains in denial, even though, deep down, he already knows it is the truth. But he can't bring himself to accept it.

"By pure luck, to be fair." You smile softly, glad he decided to let his curiosity win. "Fairvale has its own clinic, so I don't go there too often. At least not like I do with the little towns and villages closer to home. But I did go to the Solstice festival some years ago and just happened to be right there when I heard a woman complain about chest pain. The moment I managed to pick her out from the crowd, she nearly collapsed. I rushed over and helped her. Apparently this wasn't the first time, but it was the worst. I get more credit for that whole ordeal than I deserve. Everything about that encounter was lucky. That I was in town, that I was almost next to her when she started to complain, that I had almost all of my supplies on me… the list goes on. But most of all, everything that happened happened on time. In a matter of 10 minutes, I don't know if there would have been anything I could have done."

"Lucky Bug," Knives mutters under his breath, not loud enough for you to hear.

"I stayed in town a bit longer after that. I watched over Lucille and consulted with the local doctor. I helped out while I was there, got to meet many interesting people, and Lucille wouldn't stop talking to anybody who would listen about how I apparently saved her life. That got me quite a lot of job offers, both from the clinic and the mayor himself. It was bizarre."

Knives hangs on to every word you say; he listens to your voice as it entangles into his mind. He still has his back to you because he knows that if he meets your gaze, that would be all he could focus on. As soon as you fall silent, he starts to crave more. He waits for a moment longer, hoping you would continue to speak, but then turns around. He sees you staring off into the distance, your brows furrowed in concentration. Knives notes the soft glow of the gas burner on your profile, barely noticeable since it hasn't gotten completely dark yet, a soft twilight. You look concerned, and it makes his stomach feel uncomfortable. He wonders what could be troubling you. He follows your gaze into the distance. Somewhere far, close to the horizon, there is a barely noticeable light. It is hard to spot it on the backdrop of the fading sunset colors, but it is there, and it is flashing. Three short, three long, three short. Pause. Repeat.

"What do you think this could be?" Knives asks as he turns to look at you again.

"That's a distress signal. S.O.S." you reply, gaze still nailed to the light. "Someone is in trouble."

"Don't you think it could be a trap? Just drawing people in." Knives suggests, reminded of human cruelty and trickery.

"They are signaling to us. They saw the light of our gas burner; it would be bright enough for them to see. They know we are here; if it were a trap, they would sneak up on us," you explain. "We have to help."

Knives can't get another word out before you are already on your feet, packing up and preparing to head out. You leave the light burning as you hurry around him, rolling up your bed and going to saddle the toma. Knives isn't convinced by your explanation. As you pass him, he grabs hold of your wrist to make you stop for a second.

"What if it is a trap after all?" he asks, his voice stern as he looks at you.

"What if it isn't?" you reply, looking him in the eye with resolution he cannot deny.

He lets go of you and wordlessly starts to help you to get ready. He helps you saddle the birds and attaches the gear while you pick up the last of your supplies. After everything else is sorted, you pick up the still lit burner and wave it over your head before extinguishing the flame and putting it safely away.

A million worrisome thoughts cross your mind about what this could be. There shouldn't be a settlement there, and they probably wouldn't flash for help like this. They could, but it isn't likely in your mind. This flashing light isn't a fire; it has to be some sort of lamp. Something bright. Car headlights or a large torch. Someone must be stranded in the desert. They could be victims of bandits. They are likely hungry and dehydrated. Hopefully they aren't hurt. Whatever the case, you have already mounted your ride and push forward with a brisk pace, Knives shortly behind you.

The distance seems endless; the light comes only slightly closer as you hurry over the dunes. It settles a heavy weight deep in your stomach, each bounce of the toma conjuring up a new thought about the trouble the light might be signaling. It still flashes the same pattern of distress. Three short, three long, three short. Pause. Repeat. You take mental note of your diminished supplies: with what you have, there is only so much you can do. You only have enough for a few more wounds. There is only so much pain you can take away, only so much fever you can banish. And everything else… is almost hopeless.

With your mind firmly focused on doom, the stretch of sand finally starts to close. The flashing lights are two separate sources—car headlights, just like you had guessed. But there is more, a glow of softer lights moving about in the distance. There are at least a few people. New thoughts of worry begin to creep in. What about Knives? What if he is recognized? You can't outrun cars on your toma. It makes you stop on top of a ridge that overlooks the boundless desert.

"Pull up your hood," you instruct Knives, "I don't think they will have any ill intent towards us, but just in case… Be careful."

"What is that?" he asks, looking towards the lights as he covers his hair and part of his face with the hood. "Is that a car pulling something?"

It makes you look again, this time a little more carefully. It is hard in the darkness that has settled over the whole area. You narrow your eyes, straining to see what he does, and indeed you begin to make out a silhouette in the glow of the dimmer lights. A very familiar sight that makes your heart jump with glee.

"That's a caravan! Those are traders!" you exclaim, not even noticing how you push yourself up from your saddle, leaning forward.

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[variantstark]

It's Not What It Looks Like

for @msdjsg7

Welcome to Chapter 2 of my first fic, first Loki fic, and first char x reader fic, Taking Chances! You can find Chapter One here.

Warnings/tags: a little bit of strong language (shut it, Steve), good!Loki, fluff, soft!Loki, Avenger!Loki, you and Loki are friends (maybe eventually more, oops that could be a spoiler), Loki's in a stabby mood for about half a scene

No age limits

Fandom: MCU movie Loki

You blinked awake slowly after the best sleep you'd had in weeks to find yourself in a bed not your own. Too much green.

Then you noticed that you were in someone's arms.

Loki's?!

You shifted a bit, embarrassed, trying to remember how you got here. Oh, right... in your exhaustion-hazed brain last night, you thought getting your Jotunn best friend to cuddle you to cool you down in place of the air conditioning was a good idea. Yeah. That's right.

Loki stirred a bit and woke up at your movements, that malicious smirk creeping onto his face as he looked down at you. He didn't need to say anything - his face said more than words could. He thought this was funny.

You glared at him. "Shut up," you growled as you shifted away, trying to put some distance between you two. Anything to make this less awkward, oh Norns why did I ever think this was a good idea, I need to get away from him I don't like the butterfly feeling I'm getting right now because it's starting to transition to turning me on...

He actually smiled at you. "I haven't said a word, darling." He paused for effect. "You, on the other hand, were... rather demanding last night." The smile became his trademark smirk once more. "It's not often a woman forces herself into my bed and orders me to hold her."

Your glare intensified as you pulled away, out of his grasp, and slipped out of the bed entirely.

You didn't expect long, cool fingers to wrap around your wrist and keep you from taking another step.

Loki had moved faster than you'd ever seen any being move before to grab your wrist and prevent you from leaving.

You froze for a second, barely able to believe your ears at what he said next. "Did I tell you that you had to leave?"

You finally snapped out of your holy-shit-is-this-really-happening trance, not making any more moves to leave, as you said "I should... It's dawn."

"I see that. What I do not see is how the sunrise has any bearing on your staying with me or leaving. It's quite rare that anyone chooses to be near me." He attempted to pull you back.

You sighed, but let him pull you off-balance so you landed back beside him. "If the others see me sneaking out of your room, they might, well... get ideas." You said as you settled back in beside him.

He chuckled softly at that. "Mm. Perhaps we shouldn't allow that."

"Then why do you want me to stay?"

"Simply because I desire your company, is that a problem for you?"

It was once again your turn to be shocked. "N-no. It's not. But you only get five more minutes."

He pulled you close enough to put his arms back around you. "I shall not keep you a second longer than you wish."

You two laid there a few more moments, simply existing together and listening to the sound of one another's breathing. When the five minutes were up, you reluctantly slipped out of Loki's grasp, eliciting a small, sad whine from him. "Already?"

"Yeah, Lokes. I really need to leave now." You said softly as you headed for the door. "See you at breakfast?"

"Won't miss it, since you asked me." His reply was barely audible through the blankets he'd burrowed back into.

What the fuck was that all about? You thought as you headed back to your own room for a shower.

________________________________

When you walked into the kitchen after sneaking back to your room to get ready, Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side without even giving you a chance to say a word. "So. You and the iceman, huh?" She whispered, looking at you with a conniving smirk.

"Wh- what are you talking about?" You said, trying to feign innocence despite the blush creeping onto your face.

"You went past my room last night and this morning."

"So?"

"Loki's is the last. Mine's next to his."

"It- it's not what it looks like, Nat, I swear..." You managed to say, looking away from her piercing gaze.

"Sure. We've all seen the looks you two give each other, haven't we, Clint?" She called over her shoulder to her partner in crime.

Clint, in the middle of shoving waffles into his mouth, glanced up and said something unintelligible due to his mouth being full.

"See? He agrees." Natasha locked that intense stare she uses during interrogations onto you, daring you to lie again.

"Oh my Gooood..." you moaned in exasperation, rolling your eyes while you frantically formulated a lie.

"Yes?" The smooth voice beside you shocked you, and you glanced over to see Loki smirking at you. "You called?"

"You're not helping, Loki!" You shot him a glare. "Tell Nat why I was in your room last night." You attempted to communicate with your eyes that he needed to lie to her to un-incriminate you both. Tell her anything but the fact that I demanded you cuddle me.

His eyes lit up for a split second - you could practically see what he was thinking. 'This is going to be fun.'

"Well, Miss Romanoff, she walked into my room, forced herself into my bed and demanded that I hold her because it was "too hot everywhere but with me."" He put little air quotes around the last six words - he must have picked that up from Thor.

"God damn it, Loki, why -" your protest was cut off by Natasha's "HA! I KNEW IT!" She triumphantly high-fived Clint and you noticed her surrepititiously being handed money by Sam, Steve, and even Bruce. Thor looked pleased.

She turned back to you with a satisfied look on her face. "JARVIS, you can fix our changes now."

"With pleasure, Miss Romanoff." the AI replied, sounding almost... teasing?

"You see, we've all seen the looks you and Reindeer Games here give each other. So lady triple imposter and her birdbrain decided to do something about it. We actually were all in on it." Tony added from the coffee machine.

"I had JARVIS crank up the temp in your room, the hall, and a little bit in Loki's." Clint said around his fork.

"I obeyed, but made certain that your thermostats showed no change." JARVIS added from the ceiling.

"I went along with their grand scheme and made it believable, didn't think it'd work though." Tony chipped in again from behind his coffee mug.

"I orchestrated all this because you two clearly are all heart eyes for each other." Natasha said, looking satisfied.

"And we bet them it wouldn't work." Bruce, Sam and Steve added sadly.

Thor now looked confused. "I.. was told to ignore everyone else and keep quiet."

You and Loki exchanged identical infuriated glances and took a simultaneous step forward, reaching for your favorite weapons - Loki conjuring a dagger out of thin air, you drawing the one he gave you from its sheath on your hip. "Lot of planning just for it to backfire on them, huh?" you said as you and Loki advanced on the others. "Mm." Loki agreed.

"See? You even reacted the same!" an unfazed Natasha managed to say through her laughter.

Sam's eyes got big and he stood up, tugging Steve and Bruce, who was getting nervous and looking a little green veined, with him. "Thor, should we run?" he asked, already heading for the door.

"I advise it. My brother rather enjoys stabbing people who get on his bad side." Thor replied.

"Relax, Dr. Green Bean. Don't go smashing the place." you said as you passed Bruce being tugged along by Sam. "We won't touch you three."

Loki paused and touched your wrist with his free hand. You glanced at him.

"Perhaps we should give them what they wish?" he whispered just loud enough for the others to hear.

"How... do you propose to do that?" you replied, confused.

His free arm slipped around your waist. "Is this okay?" He looked pleased with himself.

Why not, you thought, and said as much as you leaned into him.

"We've changed our minds." Loki said as he lowered the dagger in his hand and you sheathed yours. "However, conspire against me again and you will see why I am called the god of mischief." He, without warning, threw his dagger, embedding it in the wall a few inches from Nat's head.

"HEY! You WILL be fixing that, and by hand, not with magic!" Tony complained at the hole in the wall that appeared when Loki made the dagger disappear, and reappear back in its place in his room.

Loki pulled you a bit closer and led you along with him as he stepped around Tony and towards the cabinets to find something to eat. As you moved beside him, one thought ran through your mind.

What the fuck is happening between us.

[chiwwydawgdraws]

AAAAAYYYYY WE FINALLY MADE IT!!!!!

Six years later, and Lost Souls is in it's final chapter (and will be completed before the year ends YIPPEEE!!!) and I realized that I hadn't made good on something I said I would do: frequent comparisons between appearances of the characters to show how my art has changed and improved throughout the comic's run. Completely forgot. Oops...

So I figured what better way to celebrate how far we've come than to visually SHOW how different the start and the end are! Here we go! (LONG POST AHEAD!)

PROLOGUE

Not much to say about the first chapter--other than it shows its age. 💀 At the time I really struggled with contrast and color theory, because everything is muddy and blends together.

I found all the Fazbears challenging to draw, but I especially remember struggling with Chica the most SOLEY because of her beak--I was having difficulty wrapping my head around making it look the way I wanted it to. Once I let myself treat Chica's beak less like an actual beak and more like a pair of extra thick lips she became one of the easier characters to draw.

CHAPTER ONE

Its so weird seeing where my blood children started and where they ended up design-wise. Cody's hair is a lot more tamer in style in these first chapters, and it took a while to get the hang of how I wanted to depict Bridget's wavy hair.

CHAPTER TWO

UGGHH MORE MUDDY COLORS GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY

Back during this chapter the fog looked more like actual fog than a manifestation of all the animal souls Gold had collected and tenuously tied together with sheer force of will. All I can say is I guess I was still figuring out the art direction I was going.

CHAPTER THREE

I was REALLY proud how I subverted expectations by not letting Cody or Bridget faint upon meeting the Fazbears. XD

I also did this dumb thing where I would block the farther limbs in shadow to try and save time (you can see it most notably on Halo and Bonnie's ears.)

This did not in fact save much time and ended up looking kinda dumb and making people think characters were missing limbs. >_<

CHAPTER FOUR

Character designs are notably more consistent.

Here was where I dropped using Photoshop Elements 7 for my drawing and used Krita. I still used Photoshop for finishing details etc.

CHAPTER FIVE & SIX

If I had to pin a chapter in which character designs were pretty much solidified, it would be these chapters.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The only major characters here are Cody and Regan.

I made this chapter during the height of 2020. So naturally I was in the throws of a MAJOR depressive episode.

I took a lot of short cuts in an attempt to just get this chapter DONE. Don't know if it's noticeable or not, but yeah it was rough.

I didn't include the Bidibabs and Minireenas because there's too darn many if them, and they're not always grouped together for the most effective comparison shots.

CHAPTER EIGHT & NINE

Grouped because eight wasn't particularly noteworthy.

Other than it's where I made the switch to Clip Studio Paint.

I had experimented with it when I made the prior Crybaby chapters and fell in love with the program before I even finished the free trial.

CHAPTER TEN

Ooh I was SO anxious for this chapter, because here was when the story would reach the point of no return--it was literally all downhill from here and I wouldn't be able to just drop the comic if I lost interest.

(But I didn't! )

Point being, lots of anxiety surrounding this chapter.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Here is officially past the event horizon. At this point I had no idea how much farther I had to go in spite of the fact it was the start of the final night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

We officially enter the labyrinth here, and it is here where I officially decided I HATE the color green.

I really don't know what it was, but there wasn't many things I could do to make the characters stand out from the sheer GREEN of the vicinity, and it muddied up a lot of the colors of the characters.

Thankfully I had more experience under my belt to balance it all out (I hope 😬)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

More green.

So much green.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Which is why when Cody's group went into the mirror maze I switched it up and went more aquamarine/turquoise to make it more bearable for me.

Making the light emit from the glow-in-the-dark floor panels was a happy accident--I wad playing around with layer modes and the Add Dodge (Glow) layer mode in CSP caused an interesting effect that I took and ran.

Markiplier cameos here. (And dies. Sorry Mark.)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The double uploads started here and OH MY GOD I can't believe I managed to survive it. I really put my pedal to the metal here, and I came out on top!

(It was a race against myself really but HOT DAMN I WAS ON FIYA.)

Side note: this chapter went through SO MANY rough drafts guys it's not even funny.

The vibes weren't jiving, the pacing was all skiddly-wompus, and at one point the chapter was FIFTY PAGES LARGE (HELL NAW)

Its a miracle I'm alive man

Do your stinkin thumbnails guys--they saved my life

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

This was the hardest chapter to finish, if you can believe it.

It took the longest production-wise, because after SIX YEARS of non-stop comic work I was definitely burned out. Thank god I had already solidified the script and thumbnails beforehand because with that guide rail in place I could drag myself across the finish line by my fingernails because if there was ONE THING I DIDN'T WANT IT WAS A FRICKIN RUSHED ENDING. >:[

(Burned by too many unsatisfying webtoon/webcomic endings that basically went "and we lived happily ever after 😌")

Visually this is my favorite chapter. I love how the colors turned out, and all the characters felt truly "mine."

And that's that!

Man I started writing a whole paragraph and I realized that I should PROBABLY save it for the Afterword, when the comic is well and truly finished. So I'll hold off on that big ol' schpiel until then, but I will say:

THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH US THIS FAR!

💖💕😘💕💖

[decepti-thots]

FIC - down among the thorn - chapters 1 & 2 (of 6), taraprowl, rated T

Title: down among the thorn

Fandom: Transformers (IDW)

Rating: Teen (archive warning for one scene: graphic depictions of violence)

Wordcount: chapters one and two are ~3.8k. Whole fic will be 10-11k.

Characters: Mesothulas/Tarantulas, Prowl, (Senator) Shockwave, Chromedome, minor background cameos.

Relationships: developing Tarantulas/Prowl, past Prowl/Chromedome

Summary:

“Are you Prowl?” Mesothulas asked, dubious. He’d expected him to be at least a little shinier.

“You’re trespassing,” the mech pointed out. “I should be asking your name.”

“Ah!” Mesothulas perked up at the deflection. “You are, I think,” Mesothulas decided. “That’s a very classic fae reversal, if rather clunky."

aka: that taraprowl fae AU that I promised a good long while ago.

On AO3.

****

I have posted two chapters (of six) of my fully written (and now roughly 10-11k) fae AU fic. Chapters three and four will be up in a few days and are ready to go, and I am finishing final edits on five and six at the moment. (As in, literally this very second, hah.)

Some notes under the cut or at AO3, whichever you prefer.

This one has been on my harddrive for over a year now, completely written and 75% edited. Oops. I did mean to get it out sooner.

I originally wrote this for an event that didn't pan out, and then I took what was meant to be a short break from it. Then work went so tits up all year I was simply too tired and/or depressed to look at it very often! Ultimately, I've shaved it down quite a bit in the interim of poking at it, I think to its benefit overall in the end, and probably the extra time and distance was a good thing. Silver linings! And now here it is.

This is a fae AU that features (pre-)Taraprowl. (I have marked it as ship, but the relationship is more... ambiguously pre-romantic, let's call it. Even so, calling it gen felt disingenuous.) It originally spun off an idea for an AU that would have more closely been a kind of parody and reversal of Tam Lin, but while elements of that remain, it's much looser conceptually now. (I have nonetheless taken the title from the Anais Mitchell rendition.)

Not many content warnings in place for this one. One chapter coming up later will have one worth mentioning. AO3 has the details of that specific one under a spoiler tag.

I debated on whether to just post this all at once, but I still want to fiddle with the last chapter or two for a couple days, so I've posted the first two chapters here and will post three and four in a few days before finishing up; I'm currently deciding if this will be five or six chapters. We'll see! I'll let people know by the time the next couple chapters go up which to expect.

[sardonic-sprite]

long overdue announcements

well, folks, as you may have recently noticed, i am not in fact dead, despite being absent from here and ao3 for like.... 2 years? oops. long story short, i took a break to deal with a crisis way back in like january '23, then got invested in non-sprite writings, and in general lost most of my steam/energy/motivation for the account for a long while. if you're worried this message is a formal goodbye, don't, it's not. yet.

i currently have about a dozen posted WIPS up on ao3, not counting a few others which i went in this week and quietly edited to show them complete as-is, just because i really do not have more thoughts on them and they also hadn't received much traffic, so i didn't think i'd be disappointing many people. i do plan to finish everything on my account that's a WIP, though it's going to take A WHILE, because most of them are many, many chapters which I have barely begun to continue. i'll be working on them as inspiration/motivation comes and updating as soon as something's finished, so you can expect a gradual trickle over the coming months and years before i'll hang up my sprite wings "for good."

as some may have noticed, however, based on the ask game like, two posts beneath this, where I listed all my wip folders/docs, i have MANY more things in some state of existence than are posted on ao3. i'm still sorting through all of these and determining what i want to do with it all, because these range from one-line premises to thousands of words of a story. i definitely think some of these concepts that i've done a lot of work on i'll either finish at some point and post, or get a friend to help me finish (drop an ask if you might be interested), or post as-is with a short summary of what the ending was supposed to be or could be, with an open invite for others to continue it if inspired.

as for other things i have noted down which I haven't much worked on, i will be dropping those steadily on tumblr under the tag "sprite's vault" and these will be completely free to use, borrow, enjoy as thoughts, or anything. if you do create something, i'd love a tag so i can see that someone else enjoyed the concept too.

thanks to everyone who's supported my stories with comments, kudos, memes, asks, and everything else, and everyone who's still here for the finite stories to come. love you all

Sprite

[kennedyslvr]

YOU'RE THE CLOSEST TO HEAVEN (THAT I'LL EVER BE) — CHAPTER 28 (AO3)

getting close to the end of this fic! if you're stuck around this long i am thankful for you! 🤍

who doesn't love a flashback chapter, eh? i personally loved writing this, writing the hottest rivals banter ever. i also totally didn't forget my own ocs backstory and had to shoehorn the detail in oops. i'm saving our girls backstory for the next fic.

anyways, as always—this is just a little snippet! if you want the full thing, click here! 🤍 thank you!

April 2004 — six months ago

I took a deep breath as I took my first step into the gym, clutching my gym bag tight to my shoulder as I looked around at the room before me. A smile touched my lips, a little flutter in my chest as I got the feeling that this—this gym right here, in The Pentagon—is it. The start of something new, a breath of fresh air from the assault course that had been kicking my ass every single day for the past nine months, in addition to the rest of my training over this five year period until people had deemed me 'ready' to go out in the field.

But there would be no more assault courses. No more need to test my skills. I was an agent now—bona fide, accepted into USSTRATCOM as of last week. And it felt amazing.

Of course, there was that crushing pressure to do well, but I’m sure that’ll pass eventually.

A surge of excitement flooded my veins as I took in the room around me. This gym was pretty made up—exposed brick along the far wall, weights in one corner, and every machine I could possibly think of. The room was also connected to a start-of-the-art fighting ring in the next room—as expected of a high-profile government agency such as this.

I breathed in the pungent smell of lingering sweat left behind by others who have used this room before me. And it was the best smell ever.

I’d always enjoyed going to the gym—pushing my body to its limit, exerting the copious amounts of energy I seemed to have. It was my chance to be uninterrupted, and I took that chance in stride as I dug through my gym bag to find my over-ear headphones. I plugged them into my iPod and started my warm-up on the rowing machine to Evanescence’s ‘Bring Me To Life’, having downloaded this album recently to accompany me on my gym sessions—because what's a gym session without hard rock to get you through it?

I locked myself into my warm-up, tightening my feet in the straps before I grasped the handle and pushed myself backward, before relying on momentum to pull me back in. I repeated this motion again and again, feeling my heart pick up in speed as blood thrummed through my system, warming me up and slicking me in sweat as Amy Lee’s haunting vocals rang in my ears.

But the harsh glare of someone’s gaze burned into my left side, making my eyebrows furrow as I tried to maintain focus. When I had entered this gym, there hadn't seemed to be anybody in here, but now I wasn't so sure—whoever was staring at me was unnerving me, making me shudder beneath the intensity.

Unable to take it any longer, I chanced a glance towards whoever had the staring problem and wasn't used to seeing a girl in The Pentagon’s gym. I locked gaze on a pair of blue eyes that bore right into my soul, momentarily taking my breath away as I quickly lapped up the sight of his pale skin flushed red with exertion, dirty blond hair soaked with sweat and his tensed knuckles red raw and bleeding as he pounded his fists into the punching bag in the corner of the room.

Holy shit—I think that's the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. It’s just too bad he had a staring problem—and a serious case of scowling. Despite the fact my heart was racing like mad and every part of my body thrummed from the attention he gave me, I found myself scoffing. Clearing my throat and rolling my neck around to release the tension, I got back to my warm-up, shelving that little moment of staring for another day.

That was, until The Mean Mugger stood right in front of my machine, still glaring at me like I’ve wronged him in some way. I didn't think that I had—I was simply trying to exist in the same space as he was, getting in a good workout before I was to meet up with the guy I was gonna be partnered with for the foreseeable future. I didn't think that's suddenly a crime, but this guy seemed to be staring at me like it was.

His mouth moved, but I couldn't hear him over the wailing guitar pulsing in my ears. So, I pulled my over-ears off, just in time to hear him say: “Get out.”

The fuck? I blinked in disbelief, my jaw going slightly slack. “Excuse me?”

“I said, get out.” He repeated, folding his arms across his chest. His voice sounded like tree bark, scratching at me like sandpaper. It was a strange sensation—despite the tenseness coiling in my gut, I felt the slightest flicker of warmth at the base of my spine.

God, I need to get fucking laid.

“You aren't welcome here.” The man insisted, and my eyebrows furrowed further—only I could find a guy infringing on my right to work out hot.

[chickenkurage]

OKAY OKAY OKAY.... CHAPTER 5 OF ATG... WHAT IN THE WORLD OH MY GOSH HOW MUCH DID DJ HAD TO GO THROUGH- FIRST HIS PARENTS AND NOW THE LOSS OF HIS OWN FOUND FAMILY TO HIS BEST FRIEND LEAVING HIM TO ROT, WHAT THE FRICK-

FIRST OF ALL, THEM TALKING ABOUT THE STARS AND SAYING HOW DJ SAYING HE WANTS TO SEE THE REAL STARS ONE DAY IS JUST.... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IT SOMEHOW HITS ME- REMINDS ME OF THAT ONE UNDERTALE DIALOGUE: "what's a star? Can you touch it? Can you eat it? Can you kill it?... Are you a star?" IT JUST SUDDENLY REMINDED ME OF THAT!!! ARE THEY REALLY FORESHADOWING THEMSELVES ABOUT LOSING EACH OTHER BECAUSE MY GOSH- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO DJ IS STILL TRYING TO REACH ALAN DESPITE HIS WOUND AND WORDS, HE'S TRYING TO PROVE HIMSELF SO HE CAN BE SEEN AS A USEFUL PERSON TOWARDS HIM, HOW HE IS STILL WILLING TO HELP HIM EVEN THOUGH HE NEEDS REST TO RECOVER FROM THAT SHOT, BUT I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE THE HORROR ON HIS FACE WHEN HE SAW ALAN WEARING THE WEAPON, THE VERY THING HE WASTED THE REST OF HIS LIFE ON, OH MY GOSH HE MUST'VE BEEN FEELING A LOT OF EMOTIONS THERE- WE GOT SOME POV OF HOW DJ IS DOING NOW!!! SEEMS TO BE SOMEWHAT ALRIGHT BUT ALSO NOT BECAUSE THE WORDS ARE STILL STABBED INTO HIS HEART LIKE A LITERAL BULLET, BUT YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH DJ AND VICTIM MEETING!!! I WAS ALREADY THINKING ABOUT IF DJ WILL SAY ANYTHING TO VICTIM AND THE OTHERS ABOUT ALA- NOOGAI, OR MAYBE THEY'LL FOUND OUT AT DJ WAS ACTUALLY ONCE A CLOSE FRIEND OF NOOGAI AND HE HELPED HIM SO LONG AGO, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THESE SCENARIOSSSSSSSSSS!!! I DID NOT EXPECT HIS PARENTS IN THIS TO BE LIKE THIS, HIS MOTHER DISTANCING HERSELF HIM AND HE TOOK IT AS KINDNESS FOR FREEDOM UNTIL THE REALIZATION HITS, HOW HE WAS KNOWN TO REASSEMBLE HIS FATHER BUT HATES THE IDEA OF BECOMING SOMEONE HE DESPISES A LOT, STAYING AT ALAN'S SEEMS LIKE IT'S THE ONLY HOPE FOR HIM TO SPEND HIS LIFE HAPPILY INSTEAD AT HIS FATHERS. DANG I DIDN'T EXPECT HIM TO PICK A WHOLE GOSH DANG FIGHT IN THAT BAR, THAT ALCOHOL REALLY DID SOMETHING TO HIM WITH THE NUMBNESS AND BLOOD ALL AROUND HIM, NOOOOOOOO HIM AND ALAN GOING THROUGH THE SAME THING AT THE SAME TIME BEFORE AFTER KAORI AND THE CHILDREN HAD PASSED, EXPECT DJ IS WILLING TO HELP ALAN AND MOVE FORWARD SLOWLY BIT BY BIT, WHILE ALAN REFUSES AND LEAVES HIM TO CONTINUE ON WITH HIS OWN PATH OF VENGEANCE, LEAVING SOMEONE WHO WAS THERE FOR YOU THE WHOLE ENTIRE TIME, LITERALLY AFTER EVERYTHING, HOW MUCH DOES DJ GO THROUGH IN THIS, INCLUDING ALAN TOO OFC OH MY GOSH- READING VICTIM AND DJ STARGAZING TOGETHER ALREADY GAVE ME PARALLELS, AND DJ SAYING THE STARS AREN'T REAL LIKE HOW ALAN DID BEFORE, AND VICTIM SAYING THOSE FAMILIAR REALLY MUST HAVE HIT DJ SOMEHOW-

SO MUCH IS HAPPENING ALREADY OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! SOMEONE GET THIS DJ TO THE AA HOUSE ASP, RIGHT HERE AND RIGHT NOW, AND EVEN LET KOM!DJ HELP OUT TOO AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMGEY YOU'RE WRITING IS IMPRESSIVE AS HECK AND KILLING ME!!!

DJ has been doomed from the start xDDD.

The stars were indeed a metaphor!! And how DJ loves those "Fake Stars" even if it was fake, he still found beauty in it, like how he did with Alan and his family :'')). The stars can be both a foreshadowing and a metaphor with Alan and DJ, with the stars being both fake and out of reach from DJ, just like he is with Alan (oop)

And the Undertale quote, oh my goodness i agree :000

And ahh DJ backstory, super dope xDDDD. We can see here how much of a family Alan and Kaori really are to DJ, it really shows that DJ really loves them both, and losing them both is just......im sad for him.

Alan is so busy with his own world building that he completely forgot about his best friend DD": It's just not fair, clearly, it's not just Alan who is a bit messed up in the head now XDD.

And yipee ond DJ and Vic friendship XDD, Vic being so playful and DJ is the one that has no energy LMAOO. It's a duo we did not ask for but a duo we need.

And God, DJ and his mother. It's so fucked up that he thought what his mother was doing a form of love and freedom until he realized his mother just wants him gone :'')

And we know how DJ always puts his friends first before himself, that's why when Kaori and the kids died, DJ pushed his grief so far back just so he could help Alan to the point he completely forgot that he too has the right to grieve over them because Kaori was like a sister to him.

And Victim reminding of DJ the memory of when he used to stargaze and Alan would always mention that the stars are fake as a way to tease him. It is a parallel, being the first line in the chapter with DJ saying he wanted to see the real stars and fast forward to Victim saying he too wants to see the real stars. PAIN

DJ does need to meet the AA, those Alans would give him all the love he needs and maybe Snow would help him xDDD. KOM DJ would definitely try to cheer ATG DJ up!!

And oh my goodness, thank you, i want to write the story as a more of character study type. ATG DJ isn't an interesting guy, he has no powers, he has no flashy tricks up his sleeve, he is just him.

His friend left him, his sister Kaori died and his nephew and niece, and he's all alone trying to deal with the pain and hurt that was left. Maybe he gave too much love to other people that he forgot to give himself some as well :((.

The AU may have fooled you guys, thinking it would be all about ATG Alan and his cool and revenge escapades, or even Victim and his brothers goofing around. But in reality, we would just look at the AU in DJ's eyes. There's nothing cool about it, and there is nothing fun about it.

Let's just hope DJ and Alan would finally talk - S

[lee-hakhyun]

today's chapter! under a readmore because it got kinda long

dkos tells lhh to hit yjh in the back of the head. he'll help him after he does this. why?? because he wants to see it 🥺 lhh questions kdj's sanity and wonders if he is just a sadistic person.

then he starts coping.

thinking about it, kim dokja's actions were all calculated... he's always planning ahead... so if he told him to hit yjh in the back of the head there has to be a reason...

he goes and hits yjh in the back of the head. then immediately regrets it when yoo joonghyuk slowly turns his head and glares at him. he didn't even manage to actually hit him, as yjh had a self defense barrier up. lhh is kind of screwed. he asks dkos what to do now. and dkos' response? "wow. you actually did it. i didn't think you'd it." LMFAOO lhh belatedly realizes that while kdj is deliberate in his actions, that kind of goes out the window when it comes to yjh

anyway, lhh is panicking. he hit yoo joonghyuk. he's so panicked that an exclusive attribute activates to calm him down. he thinks it through. he's 'cheon inho' right now, so what would cheon inho do...

equipped with the special cheon inho mode (his words not mine) he smiles the best he can. and start bullshitting. yjh's expression shifts, but then he staight up tells lhh to stop acting and that he knows he's not cheon inho. the real cheon inho would have aimed for a better vital point. whatever. lhh says he can just be a fake cheon inho then. it's not important who he is in the end. yjh sits down and looks out a window, staring at the faint traces of the great hole left after everything that happened 45 days ago.

dkos chips in then. as expected, he didn't kill lhh. he made him hit yjh as a test??? dkos says it was important to know if he'd kill you or not. you never know if you'll have to hit him in the back of the head again.

lhh and yjh start talking. yjh actually calls him 'fake cheon inho' 😭 yjh starts by asking why he stopped him from taking the absolute throne. its influence was there, but it didn't work properly. lhh tells yjh that he can't take the throne or else he wouldn't be able to see a proper end. you're a regressor and you don't even know that?

ah. oops. shouldn't have said that. yjh gets pissed at that remark. but he's not killed. dkos remarks that yjh won't kill lhh, and it's true! yjh has judged that lhh is more useful alive than dead

yjh goes on, speaking about someone else who was able to stop him. han sooyoung. she had planted memories of other worldlines into his head...

lhh is curious. how did yjh feel as he saw orv?

then yjh asks lhh if he can also plant memories of the worldline in yjh's head. he doesn't have orv's story like hsy did, but he might be able to work out something with incite... is yjh curious about orv? should lhh really tell him what happened? what will happen to this regression then?

but yjh says he doesn't care. he then brings up anna croft. haven't heard from her in a while! the final round of the seventh scenario will be with her group. yjh says that he'll probably try to kill her when she sees her. along with those words, there were some strange stories that rose from his body. dkos notices those tattoos then and figures out what story it is. doesn't tell lhh (or us) though.

yjh tells lhh to block that story, by injecting him with the memories. happy memories are the only way to stop yjh... yjh doesn't care who lhh is. cheon inho or not, his job is to stick by yjh and stop him with happy memories whenever he's ordered to.

so. lee hakhyun has secured a spot by yjh's side. the 41st regression might not be so terrible? lhh is thrilled. dkos is even more thrilled! he tells lhh to give yjh the dirt-eating memory next

ignoring dkos, lhh checks his phone. oh, omniscient reader's viewpoint updated. he had.. forgotten about it.... god damn it lhh. oh well, better late than never. he can use this to see whats happened while he was out-

there were no chapters in the 45 days he'd been passed out...

[toptensupakorn]

i saw that you're currently reading my stand-in novel but you're not really spoiling anything. how are you finding it so far if i may ask? is it as angsty as people say it is?

(i waited until the end of the day to answer this because as i thought i've already finished the novel, so much for self-restraint lol also sorry this got a bit long... oops?)

i enjoyed it a lot! and it made me get over my reading slump, so i will even excuse it getting into some tropes i'm not particularly fond of at the end. it got cheesy…er, and not even in a way i like. amazingly, that didn't make me like it any less.

from the synopsis of the series and the tags in novel updates (and i only skimmed those because i didn't want to get spoiled) i had a pretty good idea of what the novel was going to be like, which is why i decided not to really liveblog since, transmigration aside, i'd say it's a pretty straightforward story. i could be persuaded to make a recap if there's interest though, since there's still over three weeks left until the series starts airing and i'm probably going to go over everything again and take notes anyway...

and oh, is it angsty! the whole thing hinges on zhou xiang (joe) being a sweet angel baby and yan mingxiu (ming) being a fucking idiot, and it's pretty much what you can expect from any dogblood/makjang with the scum ml, misunderstandings, heartbreak, regrets, etc. i have to say i'm not usually a fan of the misunderstanding trope bc i tend to find it annoying, but as with most tropes i don't particularly enjoy it's because of the way i often see it done. here it was painful for everyone involved, so i really liked it. also, please keep in mind that i'm a huge fan of big character development and characters redeeming themselves, so. there's that. wink wonk. (i've been reading some reviews and think for some people it may be best to know what kind of story this is before going in, other than because of triggers–which, very important if you need them, at least in the novel–because of the whole. scum ml more than anything lol even though yan mingxiu is not that scummy really!)

i love my stories character-driven, so having them being this well fleshed out and compelling was a joy, and being able to see so clearly what both zhou xiang and yan mingxiu were thinking and feeling, sometimes a lot earlier than they themselves could (please bl gods keep at least some of the internal monologue in the series, i am begging), was soooooo ugh. you're supposed to hate yan mingxiu allegedly but i just couldn't, not even in his scum era, because he was so obvious and so oblivious and so set in his own ideas he kept gaslighting himself into not noticing things. this could have gotten frustrating pretty easily, but again, everything feed into the delicious, delicious suffering. that being said, and because it doesn't seem to be a popular opinion... i think it's important to empathise with both of them, or at least sympathise, for maximum enjoyment of all that angst. you cannot cry over yan mingxiu's pain if you want him to get hit by a bus.

oh and the relationships (not only the cp's, though their progression is really good) are very important in this story, which is something i hope we get to see more of in the series because i ended up missing certain side characters in the later chapters. not tan yin though, i hope that fuck ass didn't make it into the series. how is a character so annoying while being in maybe six scenes total.

i can't say if it's good or not but it was extremely enjoyable, zhou xiang is my sweet darling angel baby, yan mingxiu is okay too (if you see me in the trenches defending him in about a month…), and i can't believe i am now, somehow, even more excited for my stand-in.

[saint-arya]

chapter one, flowers for you, s. snape

★⺌◞ : severus snape x f! professor reader

cw : slight age gap, mention of possessiveness and jealousy, none else that i know of

a/n ; lmao i remember writing this long assed fic last year might as well post it + au where there is no voldy & lily potter is alive

other chapters : prologue

masterlist // taglist

“you seriously cannot expect me to go to hogwarts!” you fling your hands in the air, staring in disbelief at your parents who very much expect you to do the same.

“i cannot see why you've so much problem going there,” your mother argues, “it was your dad's, mine, your sister's alma mater.”

but not mine. you want to say.

“i have my whole life here, ma,” you rub your forehead and look at your dad, “i have a good job here, a stable job. what chances are there that i will get the same stability at hogwarts?”

“you're not a nobody!” your mother and former gryffindor urges, “surely you don't possess the wizardry gene, but your father was a professor there. your sister and i were star quidditch players. there's no chance they'll not provide you the same stability.”

ouch. that was rude. it is not as if you yourself have removed the wizardry gene from your dna. tears threaten to bubble out from your eyes.

“darling, shh,” your dad intervened, “talk to her softly. why are you yelling at her? y/n, dear, listen to me. the only reason why i am asking you to start hogwarts as a professor is because everyone keeps on wondering why i have secluded my middle child from that world.”

not secluded, dad. you were never a part of that world.

“and also,” he points towards your eleven years old brother who is busy playing his video game, “your brother is starting hogwarts soon. it will give me a sense of surety that his sister will be there to protect him. do it for our sake, please?”

it is hard for you to say no to your dad. even he knows that. so even though every part of your body wants to refuse, you let out a small nod and the beaming smile on your dad's face makes you feel a little better.

“thank you, my child.” he pats your head lightly.

you, the middle child, the only muggle child in your family, make your way towards your room, softly stopping to stare at the family pictures. your father, kiann l/n is a proud gryffindor, who later became the professor of defense against dark arts in hogwarts, retiring only when you didn't get your appointment letter from the school of witchcraft and wizardry. your mother, sierra l/n, was also a gryffindor and a star quidditch player, a few years junior to your father. they had married a few years after he had graduated. and your sister? sara l/n was a ravenclaw, a genius student and a star quidditch player. you remember how the dining table talk would be full of her achievements back in her hogwarts days. and your brother, the youngest one in the family, kyrus l/n, just received his appointment letter a few days ago.

in short, you are the only one to disappoint your family. the muggle disappointment.

in fact, you don't hate your dad for asking you to fill up as the new hogwarts professor. the wizardry world is in fact curious about you. but what they don't know is that you are no one special. just a normal human girl whose life would have been dozens of times better if only the wizardry world doesn't exist.

according to your parents, you would leave for hogwarts the next day with your brother. so you make up your mind to pack your bags at night while at the present moment, you decide to visit your friends.

oh and what excuse could you even give them for your prolonged absence? oh, forgive me you all but i cannot meet you again because i have to teach in a wizardry cult of school in a wizardry world because everyone in my family is a wizard except for me? no thanks.

you find your mother cooking in the kitchen and decide to ignore her and make your way towards the door.

“y/n?”

oops. you turn to see your mother. “i am sorry, my child,” her eyes are soft, as if she had cried, “i didn't mean to be so hard on you.”

“i know, ma,” you attempt to smile, “you didn't mean to be hard on me. you just reminded me of how different i am from the rest of you.”

“what?” to say your best friend is shocked would be an understatement. her eyes are wide open as she stares at you. “we cannot meet for a few months? a few months? what kind of cult are you joining?”

you laugh and take your sweet moment sipping on your lemon juice while your best friend waits impatiently. “it's not a cult, sophie. it's my parents' alma mater and it is a super strict, boring kind of boarding school.”

“i will miss you!” the redhead pouts. “did you tell dylan about it?”

you pause. dylan was your coworker in the company that you worked at and you had gone on a few dates together. but it was not anything serious. “no, i haven't. honestly i don't want it to be known by anyone except for you and obviously, micah. hey, where is micah even, by the way?”

“i don't know?” sophie furrows her eyebrows and looks around. “he had said that he'd be here on time.”

“trust him to be late even today,” you scoff.

“two roses,” a hand holding two roses comes in your view, “for the two most beautiful ladies in the world.”

“micah!” both sophie and you speak simultaneously and the said guy sits down beside sophie with a smirk.

“so i have heard that you're joining a cult, y/n?” he asks, sipping on sophie's chai without her permission. “what extent are you going to go just to please your parents?”

“it's not a cult, micah!” you roll your eyes, “and i am not doing it to please my parents.” liar. “i'm doing it because it's expected of me to do.”

“same thing.”

“can we not argue today?” sophie butts in, her eyes pleading. “it's y/n's last day with us, at least, for a few months. let's make it a memorable one. what do you guys say?”

and boy is it memorable. you enjoy each and every part of it, from playing at the swings to sliding from the slider and to the movies. for you knew that the next few months are going to be hard for you. very hard.

“just so you know, i love you guys a lot,” you even sob a bit. the public declaration of love is something so not you, but you feel like a little scared kid who knows that you are going to be away from the people you loved for a long time. and when they hug you back, you realis that you haven't cherished your friendships the way you should have. even micah's.

and when you lie down in bed that night to sleep, you ponder over micah's words. was he not right? what more extent would you go just to please her parents? just to not be a disappointment anymore?

the next day is spent in a jiffy and the next thing you know, you are standing at the 9½ station, holding your brother's hand. your dad is there to see you off and as he kissed your foreheads, you sigh. it is worth it. everything is worth it just to see him happy. even going to some stupid school of witchcraft and wizardry and teaching those stupid students. you can do that all just to see that smile on your dad's face.

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