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rustedhearts · 1 year

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everytime (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: despite your break up two months ago, you can't seem to stay away from each other. when you need him, he's there. but how long can this really last?

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♡ the steve collection ♡

tags: steve + reader are college age (early-mid 20s), alcohol consumption, angst, hurt/comfort-ish, reader may have a bit of a substance abuse issue (it's heavily implied), accidental casual dominance? (steve really just takes care of her)

"every time i try to fly i fall without my wings, i feel so small. i guess i need you, baby. and every time i see you in my dreams, i see your face, it's haunting me. i guess i need you, baby."

—everytime, britney spears (ethel cain cover)

hawkins, indiana 1999

For your first date, Steve took you to Harvey's: a little retro milkshake diner off the interstate with the soggiest salted French fries and the smoothest strawberry shake you'd ever had in your life. He kissed you against the tin wall, right beneath the neon crimson exit sign. He held your hand on the drive home and kissed your knuckles at stop signs. You're so fuckin' beautiful, he told you on your porch.

That was senior year, three years ago.

For your last date, Steve took you to Enzo's: the fanciest Italian restaurant in town with bitter sauce and crunchy breadsticks. He didn't kiss you on the way there, nor the way back. You barely looked each other in the eye during the entire meal. When the check came, Steve slid it into his lap and turned to your hand, limp and empty on the tabletop. This isn't working anymore...is it? he asked you.

That was two months ago.

Your relationship had been on the outs for a while. All you did was fight, and not the fun, witty banter you used to have. The arguments turned explosive: doors slamming, engines revving, broken picture frames. Steve accused you of flirting with every man you came in contact with. You accused him of insecurity and projection. The pair of you made a scene no matter where you went, and soon it became exhausting just to be in your presence. You were bitter and bitchy, no longer the sweet girl he loved to make giggle. You became resentful and mean, and he became passive and silent.

It wasn't working, and it hadn't been working for a while.

You moved out of the apartment and in with a friend from college, taking the tiny spare bedroom she'd been using for storage. Most of it lived in the closet now, but the space was yours. The move was difficult—you'd lived with Steve since the day after high school graduation. You were gonna get married. You were gonna move west to California when you were done with school and abandon Indiana together. The pair of you had dreams bigger than this town, and now that you had gone your separate ways, they felt out of reach.

But you hadn't really gone your separate ways, had you?

You spoke on the phone a few nights a week, murmuring in the darkness about your days. Though it always went unspoken, I miss you bled through every phone call. When he inevitably sighed, and the receiver crackled with his shuffling, you had to bite way tears. I should get to bed, he'd say, and he'd say it like an apology. You soaked your pillow, wishing you'd told him you loved him a little more than you did when you had the chance.

Because you always loved Steve, and you were certain you always would. Nobody had ever been so kind to you, so sweet and understanding. Steve saw you for who you were, and never wanted you to change. But you pulled away from him, pushed him out when he tried to get in. Nobody bothered to stick around as long as Steve did. And that scared you.

Now here you were, crying yourself to sleep.

♡ ♡

One thing you didn't lose in the breakup were your friends. They refused to pick sides, insisting that there was no need to choose one or the other when they could easily split their time. More often than not, you found yourself waving to Steve through Eddie Munson's apartment window as he got into his car and drove off—like switching shifts, alternating between your visits and Steve's. He'd wave back, a stiff palm in the air directed your way in the windshield, paired with a tight-lipped, solemn smile.

Tonight, Eddie was hosting a party with his girlfriend, Gwen, and you knew the crowd would be absent of Steve. The only reason Steve ever attended parties was because you wanted to. He much preferred staying in and reading, or going to dinner just the two of you. He hated crowds and loud music, the 'sloppy drunks and fuzzy potheads' as he called them. He hated Eddie's other friends, and he hated you around them. You were always a little too eager to guzzle alcohol and puff a joint—it was the topic of many of your arguments.

He wasn't wrong, and that's what pissed you off the most.

Because here you were, on your third rum and coke of the night, sipping from a tiny red straw and chewing on the plastic. Eyes hazy and rimmed pink, cheeks flushed with warmth, sweating down your spine. The apartment was crammed with people like sardines in a tin can, and you stumbled through them on your way to the kitchen for some sort of snack. There, you found Robin and Gwen leaning against the sink, eyeing you pitifully as you fell between them with a sigh.

"What's up, girls?" You were out of breath and slurring your words.

They shared a look over your head, cringing. "How many have you had, babe?" Gwen asked.

You hummed, rubbing at your eye and smearing glitter across your cheek. "Uh...like two? Three. Definitely three."

"Three and?"

You huffed, tipping your head back exasperatedly. "Three and, like, one fucking hit. How many have you had, Robin?"

Your tone was mean. It always got a little sharp and cruel when you had too much to drink. The words always came flying out before you could swallow them, and you always woke the next morning with a massive headache and a ball of regret the size of Canada sitting in your throat. You felt it, a pang of guilt stabbing your gut, when you saw your friends' faces fall. You felt it, wringing your heart like a wet washcloth when Steve would stomp off.

"Hey. We're just looking out for you," Gwen interjected, brows furrowing at your tone.

Your cheeks flamed, teeth digging into the fleshy interior of your cheek to stop the tears of humiliation from springing forth. You turned around shakily and took a warm cheese cube from the platter on the counter.

"I know. But I'm...I'm fine. Okay?"

The girls sighed, and Eddie came shuffling into the kitchen with a beer and a cigarette in hand. He wrapped an inked arm around Gwen's neck, pulling her in by the crook of his elbow to plant a loud kiss on the top of her head. She fit into his side and nuzzled his neck, smiling in greeting. You swallowed, throat coated with thick warning. You were going to cry, and you sure as fuck weren't gonna do it here.

"Hey, what's up, scholar?" Eddie asked you, smacking your arm playfully.

You refused to turn around, knowing if you did the whole kitchen would see your glossy eyes and wobbling lip. But this just made you mean again, and as you plucked more cheese from the counter and poked at limp peppers, you pulled in on yourself. Eddie turned to his girlfriend and Robin, who shook their heads dejectedly.

"You okay, honey?" Robin reached out to rub your arm, and you curled away to wave her off, keeping your face angled toward the floor.

"I'm fine. I just...I'm gonna...go wash my hands."

You hurried off, refusing to meet their eyes as you went. You staggered through a sea of people, dizzy and foggy-headed, struggling to breathe. Gwen and Eddie's bedroom was the last door on the left, and you burst into the room with an urgent gasp of breath. The door slammed after you, and you had half a mind to sink onto the floor and lie there for the rest of the night until you stopped crying—but then you saw the phone.

You didn't even think about it.

You knew the number by heart. You dialed the numbers like second nature, lifting the phone to your ear to cradle the cool plastic with shaky fingers. You sniffled to clear the snot, swiping at the tears dripping down your cheeks. The dial tone droned. Once, twice, three times. You sank onto the floor against the bed, leaning your head back against the soft mattress.

"Hello?"

You squeezed your eyes shut. "Stevie?"

It was quiet a moment, and then another soft sigh. "Honey...why are you callin' me? Is everything okay?"

His voice, so soft and smooth like it always was, felt like a security blanket. It wrapped around you, tendrils curling around your bones to hold them tight like he used to. And you wanted nothing more than to hear that voice murmuring in your ear, with his arms around you to keep you safe. Everything's been so off-kilter since he left. Since you left each other. Every day feels like finding your footing all over again. Naked and bare, you weren't sure which direction to go in unless he was there to guide you.

And as selfish as it sounded, you wanted him to guide you again.

"N-No. I'm so fucked up, Steve—it's so fucked up."

Shuffling crackled through the receiver, and you imagined Steve sitting up in bed and rubbing his tousled hair. He sounded tired when he spoke again. "You been drinkin', baby?"

You nodded, sniffling nosily. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Stevie."

Keys tinkled like wind chimes in the distance of the other line. "Where are you, honey? Hmm? Do you know?"

You sighed, snot rattling in the back of your throat. Your hand fell to the itchy carpet beneath your legs, rubbing your palm to scratch it. You hated how this sounded like a routine. Like he expected you to call, all fucked out and lost. You wished you were better for him.

"M' at Eddie's."

"Oh, okay," Steve sounded a little relieved. "Stay where you are, alright?" He was coming to you.

"Steve...you don't have t' come, m' sorry. M' sorry, just...I'm all over the place."

"I'll be right there."

The line clicked, and you carefully placed the phone back in the cradle. The tears started up again, full force and breathless. You gasped for air and hiccuped like an infant as you clawed your way onto the bed, sprawling out on your back. You were grateful the room was dark. You didn't want to see yourself like this.

You listened the songs change while you waited to calm your cries. The room hadn't stopped spinning, and your throat felt so tight. Your chest hurt with a hollow ache that hadn't gone away since your last night at Steve's. You slept in the same bed, facing opposite walls. In the morning, you slid your key across the table and kissed his cheek. He carried your boxes to the car and stroked your cheek with his thumb against the passenger door. He smelled like hazelnut coffee and sleep.

Four songs passed before you heard familiar voices murmuring outside the door.

"Jesus, Steve, you can't keep coming to rescue her," Robin huffed.

You wiped your cheeks, lips downturning. Tough love really hurt when it came from your closest friends.

"Mind your business."

"This is my business. I care about both of you, and this is just...this is unhealthy!"

"Get out of my fucking way, Buckley."

The door handle jiggled, and you turned your head to watch it open. A streak of yellow light sliced through the blue darkness of the room.

"You don't know shit," Steve muttered, and then he was standing in the room.

The thump of music became muffled by the door once more, light clamped off to return the pair of you to darkness. A strip of moonlight beaconed over his face as he stepped closer, hands in the pockets of his jeans. You could hear his keys jingling as he fidgeted. He tipped his head at the sight of you lying there.

"Hi," you whispered. It was the sweetest you’d sounded in months.

Steve swallowed, trying not to rush over and kiss you. He had to fight the urge each time he saw you, even in passing. It felt wrong to part ways without a kiss goodbye. Even when you fought, you always stopped to kiss each other before going to work or heading to bed. It became one of Steve's favorite habits. He felt empty without it.

"Hi," he murmured back.

You sniffled, carefully turning your head away to look toward the ceiling. You were disappointed to see it was still swirling. You suddenly wished you were sober. Maybe he'd see you differently.

"You didn't have to come."

Steve shrugged in your periphery. He was wearing one of those collared polos that you loved. Three buttons always left undone, tight white t-shirt underneath. You wanted him closer. You wanted to smell his cologne again.

"But I'm here."

You shuffled to your elbows, groaning softly. Something lurched in your stomach, coiled tight in your belly. You were gonna be sick, but you didn't want to be in front of Steve. Pushing off weakly on your palms, you sat upright and wiped your cheek, smearing more makeup in the process.

Steve inched closer, waiting for his cue to step in. It came when you stood and wavered on the carpet, reaching for a steady surface.

"Alright, easy, honey." He swooped in, arm wrapped around your waist to guide you toward the bathroom door.

He pushed it open and flicked on the light, propping you against the sink like a Barbie doll. With an open palm on your stomach, he kept you upright as he rummaged through the drawers for a rag. You played with the brown leather band of his watch as he ran the rag under warm water, a pout embedded on your mouth.

"Wanna hop up there f' me?"

You braced the cold counter with the heel of your palms, lifting on wobbly arms to sit on top. "Atta girl," Steve mumbled under his breath, and even in your bleary state you flushed with warmth.

Resting against the mirror, you watched Steve lather powder white soap onto the wet cloth until it bubbled, bringing two fingers under the pink cotton to wipe against your cheek. His eyes were steady on his own ministrations, watching his hand clean away the smeared mascara and tears.

Your eyes, however, could only focus on him. His big sad eyes, swampy green and brown flanked by long, curled lashes. The mocha-colored freckles grazing his cheeks and collarbone, sprinkled along his neck. The pout on his plump pink lips, taken between his teeth in concentration.

When he switched the cloth to the other cheek, you exhaled shakily and caught his wrist. His eyes flicked to yours, finally catching your gaze. He blinked, another one of those toothless, tight-lipped smiles breezing over his lips. It was painted with pity.

Wrapping both hands around the warmth of his forearm, you tipped your cheek into his palm and the soapy, damp cloth encompassed around it. Steve sighed, chest deflating beneath that handsome polo. In the fluorescents of the bathroom, he looked prettier than ever. You were smaller than he'd ever seen you, crumpled and disheveled.

"You drank too much again." He said it the way he orders a cheeseburger in the drive-thru: casual, predictable, cool. He expected this.

That's what always hurt you most.

Your mouth opened to utter a reply, but all that came was a shuttered breath. Your lip downturned, jutting out in a petulant pout that made him ache. He swiped two fingers, cool from the cloth and scented of clean soap, across your temple and into your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

"Just felt sad," you admitted lowly, rubbing your hand along his arm.

Steve placed his hand against your other cheek, suddenly cradling your face. His thumb made circles in your sticky skin—firm, tender, just the way you used to like it. Your eyes fluttered closed, head falling deeper into his hold.

"About what?" His voice was so soft, so small. The rest of the world fell away outside of his tiny, outdated bathroom.

You scoffed humorlessly, head shaking. You opened your eyes again as you fiddled with his watch. "You know what."

Steve's gaze rolled over your face, swollen and pink, stuck in a defeated frown. He wondered if you'd remember this in the morning, or if it'd be another night you fell fuzzy on.

"Yeah...yeah, I know, baby."

You huffed, breath hot and laced with liquor across his arm. "M' sorry. M' sorry I made you come out here, and...m' just...m' just sorry—"

"—hey, come on—"

"—no, Steve...m' a mess. Everyone's right about me."

The pads of Steve's fingers scratched at your scalp, and you hated how easily you purred like a kitten at his touch. Your neck craned, and if it weren't for his hand holding your head up, you might've lied down right there on the sink. Inebriation had its claws in you deep.

"Hey," he cooed, urging your head up with his wash-clothed hand. "Don't talk like that."

When you did nothing but continue to frown and sniffle, Steve sighed and steadied you upright. "C'mon, lemme finish cleanin' you up."

Your shoulders slumped, head bobbing gently. "Okay."

Steve chuckled, rubbing your other cheek with the soapy cloth. "Okay."

You were pliant to his pulling and prodding, allowing him to clean you without complaint. He tucked your hair behind your ears when your face was washed, and filled a Dixie cup with cool water for you to drink. He rested his hands on your bare knees as he watched you gulp it down, patting them when you were done.

"All done?"

You nodded, handing him the paper cup. He tossed it in the trash bin, nudging your chin up with two fingers. "Hey. You with me?"

You nodded again. "Mhm."

"I'm gonna take you home, okay?"

You grasped his hand, pushing your fingers through his. "Okay."

He helped you off the counter, but he didn't drop your hand. He held it as he guided you through the dark bedroom and into the hall, using it to pull you into his side to fit through the crowd. When you made it to the kitchen, you were stopped by your friends, and you pressed your head to Steve's firm back as their voices melded into a yell.

"Oh, fuck off, Munson, seriously, this is none of your business. Last I checked, our relationship only involved the two of us."

"What relationship? You broke up—weeks ago, by the way, in case you forgot—"

"—I didn't forget," Steve hissed, side-stepping and pulling you with him to avoid Eddie. "And for the last time, it’s none of your business.”

You peered back at the group of your friends huddled near the sink as Steve steered you toward the back door. You knew they were disappointed—you could see it in their empty eyes and pursed lips. You could see it in the way Gwen had to rub Eddie’s arm to calm him down. Because the two of you were making a mistake, and you’d never move on if you kept crawling back to each other every chance you got.

But maybe you didn’t want to move on, and maybe Steve didn’t either.

Steve took you home that night, and sat you on the end of the bed. He pulled your dress down your legs and replaced it with a big t-shirt: sunshine yellow, drenched in Steve. He tucked you under the blankets and kissed your head. And then he crawled in beside you, and held you the whole night.

He took you home, where you belonged: with him. And he didn’t know if you’d wake the next morning wondering where you were, or happy to see him nuzzled in your neck, but Steve was willing to roll the dice. For now, he could pretend this was how it always was, and that you never left.

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lewmagoo · 1 year

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million dollar man | rhett abbott

description: in which a mysterious, silver-haired cowboy rescues a young waitress who’s down on her luck

listen to the spotify playlist here!

warnings: 18+ ONLY, age gap (rhett is in his mid 40s, reader is in their 20s), mentions of sex work, workplace harassment, financial troubles, a little ageism, smoking, unprotected p in v sex, daddy kink, dom/sub dynamic, degradation, overstimulation, squirting, begging, choking, creampie, i think that's it?

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

notes: this is one of my longest stories to date. it started out as a simple smut scene and then it turned into an entire backstory. rhett has gray hair in this because i said so. i'm also dedicating this to my fellow old man fucker in arms, @rhettabbotts <3

It was late July. The air was hot and sticky, but the crystal water of the swimming pool was cool on your exposed skin as you sank down into its depths.

You couldn’t help but let out a long, blissed-out sigh, your eyes drifting shut at the feeling of the ripples washing over you. You couldn’t remember a time in your entire life when you’d felt this relaxed and at ease. Not a care in the world, floating through the water as if you were suspended in a dream.

And you were, really. A dream that had been made a reality by the man sitting just a few feet away from you, cigarette smoke swirling around him like a halo as the sunlight illuminated his figure, making him appear like an angel. And as far as you were concerned, he was just that: an angel. One who had saved your very life.

Rhett Abbott was a very powerful man. You couldn’t fully wrap your mind around just how powerful he was. It was something he never discussed with you, insisting that he didn’t want his demons tainting you.

While he had always been nothing but loving and kind to you, you had witnessed the ruthless side of him a few times, namely when he’d rescued you from your old life.

Rhett had come rolling into town in his Silverado, just passing through, and he met you at the hole-in-the-wall diner you waitressed at. You’d never forget seeing him for the first time. Tall and broad, tan Stetson balanced atop his head. A pair of worn Levi’s with a white T-shirt on top. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

He took his hat off as he took a seat at the counter, revealing a head of graying hair that sent your heart quickening in your chest. Then he smiled at you. You shyly offered him a menu, but he shook his head. “I’ll jus’ have a black coffee, ‘n two eggs, over easy. Toast, bacon, whatever you put on your usual breakfast plates. Please and thank ya.”

His voice caught your attention. Deep and low in his throat, lilted with an accent you couldn’t quite place. But it was clear he was from out west, that much you could tell.

“Of course! Anything else?” You asked as you scribbled his order down on your pad.

He considered it for a moment and then he said, “Some jam for the toast, if it ain’t a bother.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his politeness, despite his rough exterior. His shining blue eyes were gentle as they regarded you, and you found yourself distracted by them. You’d never seen eyes so blue. They looked like the ocean. You’d never been, but you’d seen pictures of water that was so blue it was breathtaking. His eyes were even prettier than that.

“C-comin’ right up,” you finally responded, realizing you were allowing your mind to wander.

You turned and put your order in with the cook before you quickly moved to pour a cup of coffee. Everything was going just fine until you turned and miss-stepped, sending yourself careening forward. To your utter horror, the mug of coffee slipped from your hands and hit the counter, splashing all over the man, effectively staining his white shirt.

You gasped sharply, steadying yourself before your hand shot up to cover your mouth. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Are you alright?! Did it burn you?!” You were shifting into a panic, scrambling to grab a handful of bar towels you kept behind the counter. You rushed around, intending to help the man clean up the mess.

You were so wrapped up in your panic that you didn’t realize that he wasn’t angry with you at all. You were simply so used to customers, and your manager, being rude to you that you just expected a hostile reaction.

But just as you approached him, he slowly stood, and suddenly, a pair of steady hands were resting over top of your own. You looked up in surprise, only to find those crystal blues gazing steadily down at you.

“Hey now, don’t fret none, it was just an accident,” he assured you, and the deep velvet of his voice calmed you instantly, bringing you back to yourself, renewing your focus.

You stared at him in confusion. “I just spilled hot coffee on you, and you aren’t angry?”

He shook his head, gently taking the bar towels from you to dab at the stain himself. “Ain’t no use gettin’ angry over somethin’ you didn’t do on purpose. I got plenty more of these white shirts where this one came from. And I’ve had worse injuries than a measly little burn from some hot coffee. I’m fine. Promise.”

You let out a sigh of relief, your tense shoulders falling relaxed. “Oh, thank goodness. I really am sorry, though. I’m so clumsy.”

He moved to wipe up the mess from the counter, completely unbothered by it. But he was bothered, however, by the implications of your response. “You have people get angry at you often?” He asked.

You paused, considering your answer. “Well…some of the men that come in here aren’t very nice. Cranky truckers and whatnot. If you make a mistake they tend to get pissed and take it out on you. And my…” you glanced around to make sure no one was listening, “boss, he’s not the nicest guy out there. He says I’m too clumsy for my own good.”

Something flashed in those blue eyes. You swore they darkened a shade. “Huh. Well, they’re all fuckin’ assholes. You’re just doin’ your job.”

You were floored by his behavior. You’d expected him to insult you for your mistake, to call you some degrading name, like you’d been called so many times before. But instead, he’d offered you kindness and understanding.

“Thank you,” you earnestly replied.

He shrugged, taking a seat again on the stool he’d previously been perched upon. “‘s basic human decency to be nice to your fuckin’ waitress. ‘specially when she might have half a mind to spit in your food if you treat her like shit,” he said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You couldn’t help but smile at that, finally turning to gather up the coffee-stained towels and rounding the counter again. As you tossed the towels in a bucket nearby so you could wash them later, the cowboy leaned forward, still eyeing you.

“I’m Rhett, by the way,” he informed you.

You shyly gave him your name in return. “It’s nice to meet you,” you said.

“Likewise,” he echoed. His exterior seemed so rough. There was a tattoo of a steer skull inked into the skin of his left forearm. His face was fixed with hard lines, and although he still appeared youthful, you could tell he was older. Mid to late forties, if you had to guess. His eyes held untold stories, things he’d experienced that had turned him into the rough man he was today. But his exterior was misleading, because behind it, he was warm and kind.

You didn’t know it then, but this was the start of something bigger than you ever could have imagined. This man, with his ocean-blue eyes and velvet voice, would soon become your knight in shining armor.

Until then, the spell between you was quickly broken when you heard “Order up!” which caused you to jump in surprise.

You giggled softly at your own jitteriness, and quickly turned to retrieve Rhett’s food from the serving window, thanking Anton, the cook, as you did so. “Here you go! Need anything else?”

“Just a coffee refill,” he replied with a knowing smile.

“Oh! Of course! Sorry, I got so distracted!” You exclaimed in embarrassment as you hurried to pour him another cup of coffee, this time making sure not to spill it on him.

“Thank y’ kindly,” Rhett said.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else!”

You busied yourself with sorting clean coffee mugs back into their respective stacks, all while Rhett tucked into his food. You found yourself wanting to speak to him further, to ask him questions about himself, but you were afraid of being a bother, and you were afraid you were misreading his kindness as an invitation to talk to him.

He’s just being nice, you thought. He doesn’t actually want to talk to me.

Besides, your boss, Martin, was just in the back. If he saw you bothering a customer he’d flip his lid and use it as an excuse to yell at you. It didn’t take much to piss him off, and for whatever reason, he seemed to particularly have it out for you. The least he was involved, the better.

Some might question why you kept this job if you were being mistreated by your boss. The fact of the matter was, you had no choice. You were desperately trying to keep up with your living expenses and rent to avoid being evicted from your home. You were severely behind on your utility bills, to the point where the city was going to start shutting things off if you didn’t pay up.

You were living paycheck to paycheck, barely staying afloat. This waitressing job was the only one you could get in this tiny town, and you didn’t have the time or resources to go hunting for a better-paying job. This was your lot in life, and you were trying to make due. However, you weren’t sure how much longer you could go on.

You tried your best to keep your head down and do your job, but with the way your boss behaved, and the way this town seemed to have it out for you, it was difficult. You seemed to have garnered a reputation, and you weren’t quite sure how it had started. You heard the way people talked about you when they thought you weren’t listening. Whispers of what you got up to after the sun went down. Accepting money from men in return for sexual acts.

The truth was, you were not involved in sex work. The only thing you could think might have started the rumor was the fact that Luke Jones, the sheriff’s one and only deputy, had propositioned you for sex once, and when you turned him down, he went off the rails and berated you in front of the whole diner. He must have decided to spread rumors about you behind your back, which had done great harm to your image, and changed the way people treated you. If the cops said you were bad news, everyone believed them,

You hated this tiny, conservative Christian town, but you were trapped with no escape.

Rhett Abbott was the first person who’d been genuinely kind to you in a long time. There was no judgment in his eyes as he looked upon you. Not even after you’d embarrassed yourself and spilled his coffee. It made your heart warm in your chest, and you decided that maybe this work shift wasn’t so bad after all.

Then he was asking you for a coffee refill and you were trying to hide your smile as you turned to grab the well-used coffee pot.

“Thanks,” he said with a nod and a crooked smile. It made your knees weak.

But the spell between you was soon broken by the sound of your name being gruffly spoken. You jumped, nearly spilling the coffee you were still holding. Rhett watched you, his eyes narrowing as you scrambled to put the carafe back in its place and rush to the back.

There was a man back there, and just by the time of his voice, Rhett could tell he was no good. He put two and two together and realized the man was your boss, who you’d already mentioned having a short fuse.

Rhett was a lot of things. He’d committed acts he wasn’t proud of. He had many enemies. There were those who would pay money to see him dead. But one thing he was not, was an abuser. He didn’t mistreat people just for the hell of it. And just from interacting with you, and seeing the way you reacted when you spilled his coffee, he could tell you had suffered a lifetime of mistreatment.

And that was when he found himself considering something he never thought he’d do. Maybe he was crazy. Maybe he’d been bashed in the head one too many times. Either way, he wondered if you would let him take you away from all of it.

He wasn’t sure why he was so enamored by you. He’d only just met you, and if he offered to take you away right then and there, he was sure you would say no. So he didn’t say anything. But he decided that he was going to remain in this godforsaken town a few more nights, just to see how things played out.

He hadn’t done much good in his life, but if he could rescue you from your unfortunate circumstances, maybe it would make up for all the years of sin and wickedness. Maybe he could do right by you. Give you the life you deserved, protect you from harm, give you freedom.

Until then, he wouldn’t jump the gun. He would wait patiently, and swoop in when you needed him to. Although, now seemed like a pretty good time to do that. He could hear your boss shouting, and it sent heat boiling beneath his skin.

But he resisted the urge to go back there and tear the man apart. He didn’t want to scare you, and such a reaction would be overkill, especially when he’d only known you all of forty-five minutes.

A few minutes later, you came back to the front, very obviously trying to make it look like you hadn’t been crying. At that point, Rhett had finished his food, and when you saw it, you quietly spoke to him.

“All ready to finish and pay?” You asked, avoiding eye contact.

Rhett leaned forward over the counter, lowering his voice. “Shouldn't let ‘im treat you that way.”

You paused, a fresh wave of tears welling in your eyes. You managed to lift your gaze to his, your bottom lip quivering. “I have no choice. It’s either work this job, or end up on the street.”

I could take you away from all this. Those were the words on the top of his tongue. But he refrained. Now wasn’t the time. “Yeah, well, he’s a goddamned prick. Y’ deserve better.”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart aching in your chest. His kindness and understanding were unfathomable to you. Why on earth was he being so nice? And that’s when your brain threw a negative thought at you that made everything come to a screeching halt. What if he was only being kind because he wanted something? He didn’t seem like a creep, and he hadn’t made you feel uncomfortable in the slightest. But what if he was just good at hiding it?

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The words came out before you could stop yourself.

Rhett leaned back in his seat, grabbing his Stetson before he rose to stand. “Because you look like you could use some kindness. And I don’t believe in mistreatin’ service workers just for the hell of it.”

He dug out his wallet and tossed a $100 bill onto the counter, which more than covered his measly $10 meal charge. Your eyes went wide, and you looked up at him just as he placed his hat on his head. “Keep the change. Buy yourself somethin’ nice.”

Then he was gone, leaving you flabbergasted in the middle of the diner. “Ninety fuckin’ dollars,” you whispered to yourself in amazement, referring to your tip. You snatched the bill off the counter and quickly rang it up, placing the money beneath the cash tray to be put in the safe later, and taking out $90 in cash for yourself. He told you to keep it, so that was what you were going to do.

You thought that night would be the last time you ever saw Rhett Abbott. Thought that he appeared like one of those guardian angels you’d heard people talk about, just to give you a little help along the way, before disappearing into thin air.

But the very next night, he walked through the door of the diner again, and your heart began to race in your chest. He was real. Flesh and blood, standing right in front of you.

He looked just as good as he had the previous night. Except this time, he’d ditched his coffee-stained white shirt in favor of a blue button down, tucked into his jeans with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his strong forearms, that steer tattoo still on display.

He took his hat off and sat at the bar, and he gave you that crooked smile of his. It made your knees weak, and you set down the stack of plates you were carrying just so you didn’t drop them.

The diner had a few customers that night, so you couldn’t focus all of your attention solely on him. Nor could you talk freely, for fear of other patrons overhearing.

But he was still as charming as ever. “Hey,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “miss me?”

Actually, yes. “I thought you were just passing through,” you said.

He shrugged, resting his elbows on the counter. “Changed my mind.” He held eye contact with you, and it made your heart race.

You shook off your dazed expression and whipped out your order pad. “What’ll you have?”

“How’s your French toast?” He asked. So he was a big fan of breakfast for dinner, it seemed.

You shrugged. “It’s pretty good. I’d recommend the pancakes though, Anton makes the batter from scratch and they’re fluffier than a cloud.”

Rhett’s smile grew wider. “Alright then, I’ll have a stack of ‘em. With a couple of scrambled eggs this time. And black coffee.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “Sure thing. And I’ll try not to spill the coffee on you this time.”

That smile turned into a grin. “Thanks, ‘preciate it.”

That was, unfortunately, as far as your interaction went. You handed him his coffee and then got whisked away to serve food to other customers. A family of five walked in, and seeing as how you were the only waitress on the current shift, you had to take care of them.

Rhett noticed this, and his brow furrowed. It was hardly fair that you had to do all of this by yourself. Where were the other waitresses?

When you made your way back to the counter to grab his order and hand it to him, he stopped you with a question. “You’re doin’ all this by yourself? Where’s your help?”

You grimaced. “There’s usually only two of us working at night but the other girl has been sick in the hospital so she’s called off a few nights in a row. My boss won’t hire anyone else either so it’s all on me.”

“The more you tell me bout that son’bitch, the more I don’t like him,” Rhett grumbled.

You shrugged. “Just somethin’ I gotta deal with. You need anything else?”

He wanted to continue the conversation, but he didn’t want to keep you from your work and get you in trouble, so he simply requested some pancake syrup and let you get back to your duties.

That night, as he left the diner, he gave you another large tip, and you cried over it, not understanding why he would do such a thing. In this place, you were lucky to even get a dollar or two as a tip.

After those first two nights, Rhett quickly became a regular. Each night he’d walk through the doors, take a seat at the counter, and order breakfast for dinner. And each night, you’d talk to him, and find yourself growing more and more enamored with him with each passing hour. He continued to leave large tips, and it made you think that he had to be rich. No one could afford to throw money around like that.

But it didn’t feel appropriate to ask him about his money, so you kept your questions to yourself. You fell into a routine of expecting his presence every night, and appreciating those generous tips.

The entire time, however, Rhett was watching you, and he noticed a few things. Of course, there was the way your boss treated you. But he also noticed how some of the customers treated you. They were impatient and short with you, and it only served to make you more frazzled, resulting in a few mistakes on your part.

You would always apologize profusely and come back to the counter holding back tears. It sent the heat of anger blossoming through Rhett’s chest. He couldn’t stand to watch this much longer. And thankfully, he didn’t, because his opportunity to give you a better life came one night when the diner was particularly busy.

A group of younger men, one of which wore a deputy’s uniform, were picking on you. They would make comments each time you tended to their table, and Rhett caught wind of every word. Their behavior filled him with such rage that he took his hand off of his coffee cup, for fear that he would crush it in his own grasp, just from his anger.

He was tempted to step in, but he waited. The next time you walked up to the counter, he caught you. “I can take care of them assholes for ya,” he offered.

“What?” You asked, unsure of what ‘take care of’ meant in this context.

“Teach ‘em how to be respectful. ‘Cause they sure as hell ain’t respectin’ you right now. ‘Specially that fuckin’ cop.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. They’re just playing around. Don’t pay attention to them,” you brushed it off. But he could tell it was bothering you.

The final straw happened when you walked back over to their table, and one of them stuck out his leg and purposely tripped you. You let out a yelp of surprise and went down. Thankfully, you were only carrying a pitcher of water, but the water went everywhere, including all over your white top.

Quick as a flash, Rhett Abbott stood up. “Enough!” His voice boomed through the diner, and everyone went dead silent, including the boys who’d been picking on you.

The cowboy approached the table, kneeling to reach for your hands. He locked eyes with you and calmly asked, “You okay?”

When you nodded, he pulled you to your feet, and without hesitation, he shrugged out of his denim jacket and put it around your shoulders so no one would be able to see through your wet shirt.

“Go outside,” he said to you.

“But-”

His piercing eyes caught your gaze. “Go. Trust me.”

And you did. Maybe you were foolish for it, listening to this man you’d only known for the better part of a week. But when Rhett told you to trust him, you somehow knew you could. You hugged his jacket to your body and you walked out of the building and into the cool night.

Back inside, Rhett was seething. He stared at the group of men, and without a word, he reached across the table and grabbed the napkin canister, yanking the top off and dumping the stack of napkins into the lap of the deputy. “Clean up the mess,” Rhett gruffed.

The boys snickered. “Not my fault this place has clumsy waitresses,” Luke, the deputy, said.

Rhett growled, and suddenly, he had Luke by the collar. “Clean up the fuckin’ mess!” He barked. Then he slammed the man back down into his seat.

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, jumping back out of his seat as Rhett marched back to the counter to grab his hat. “You realize you just assaulted an officer of the law?!”

Rhett remained silent as he fished out his wallet and pulled out a single $10 bill, slamming it down on the counter. Then he turned, his eyes dark and stormy.

“I don’t give a shit. Next time, I’ll do a lot worse.” Then he put his hat on his head and sauntered outside.

He found you leaning against the outside wall, and when you saw him, you wiped at your cheeks, trying to hide the tears. He sighed softly, boots crunching against gravel as he neared you.

“Thanks for that,” you whispered.

“Mm,” he hummed in response. You were both quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. “Listen, maybe I’m bein’ too forward, maybe I’m fuckin’ crazy, but what if I said I could take you away from all this?”

You looked at him, your brow furrowed in confusion. He was as serious as could be. “What?”

“I could. I know I don’t look like much, but I got some money. Got a place out west. Lots of land, horses, cattle. Nice house with a swimmin’ pool in the back. But the thing is…it’s real empty. It ain’t fit for a lonely old cowboy. But it could be a home, with you in it.”

Your eyes widened. There was no way this was real. There had to be a catch. Maybe you were dreaming. Yeah, that was it. This was a dream and you’d wake up any minute, curled up on your broken-down old mattress in your tiny, ill-repaired house.

“I’ll let you sleep on it, if ya need. But I’m tellin’ you right now, you deserve better than this town. It’s like fuckin’ quicksand, it’ll suck you in and you’ll never get out. Believe me, I know.”

“Why?” You asked. “Why would you do this for me?”

Rhett shrugged. “Because I can see you need help, and I have the means to give it to ya.”

You stood there, speechless, your eyes wide and watery. “This isn’t real,” you whispered. “You’re just a dream and I’m gonna wake up soon and you’ll be gone.”

“Ain’t no dream, sugar. I’m real and I’m offerin’ you a fresh start. Don’t need to give me an answer right now, you can think about it, but-”

To hell with it. “Yes,” you cut him off.

His brows raised. He hadn’t expected you to say yes so quickly. Before he could speak again, you continued.

“Why the hell not? I’ve got nothing going for me here. I’m gonna die in this Podunk town if I don’t get out right now. So yes, I’ll go with you.”

Rhett tilted his head, caging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Alright then. We can leave tomorrow if y’ want. My place is in Wyoming, it’s gon’ be a long drive.”

You wondered what he was doing so far away from his home state. And in the back of your mind, you knew this was potentially the most foolish decision you’d ever made. What if he was a serial killer who was going to dump your body in some ravine somewhere? But as you looked into the kindness of his deep blue eyes, you knew that those fears were all in vain. This man was not here to harm you. He was here to rescue you.

So you took a headfirst leap of faith and let him.

That very same night, you walked back into that diner, tossed your apron onto your boss’s desk, and told him, “I fuckin’ quit.”

You ignored his overdramatic pleading, tuning him out when he shouted after you. You left it all behind and came back outside where Rhett was waiting, smoking a cigarette. When he saw you, he stamped out the cigarette and pushed off of his truck, which he’d been leaning on.

“Well?” He asked.

“I quit. Maybe I’m stupid for doing this, but I trust you, and I’ll go wherever you wanna take me.”

And that’s how it all started.

He took you back home that night, insisting upon it after you told him you’d been walking to work to avoid the cost of gas and car maintenance.

His truck smelled like him. The faint scent of cherry tobacco, and a cologne that smelled like vetiver and cedar. It was strangely comforting and you found yourself at ease wrapped up in his scent.

When he pulled up outside your shabby little house with its unkempt lawn, you felt a little embarrassed about your living situation. But if he judged you for it, he made no indication.

“Pack what’s most important to ya. I can have a moving company come and pack up the rest and ship it to my place.”

You hesitated before you climbed out of the truck, reality finally hitting you in the face. “Rhett…you should know I’m sort of…in trouble. I owe money. I’ve got overdue bills, and people I borrowed money from. If I skip town I’ll be in big trouble.”

Rhett gazed at you, and the yellowish light cast from a nearby street lamp made his eyes look dark, almost brown. “Don’t worry about all that.”

“But-”

“I said I’d take ya away from all this. I mean it. You come with me, and you won’t have to worry about anythin’ ever again. I can promise you that.”

“I can’t ask you to take care of my problems for me.”

“You aren’t askin’ me to. I want to.”

You stared at him in disbelief. There was no way this was real. But your heart was telling you to trust him. If he said he would take care of things, then he would.

“Okay,” you relented.

“Alright then. I’ll see ya tomorrow mornin’, around 7 if that’s okay with you.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll see you then.”

Then you slipped out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind you. He waited in your driveway to see to it that you got safely into the house before he finally pulled away.

Once you were inside, you pushed the front door shut and leaned back against it, reeling from what had taken place in the last few hours. Had you really just agreed to run off with this man? Were you crazy? Had you gone completely bonkers? Maybe, but strangely enough, you also had a sense of peace. Somehow you knew this was the right decision.

So you set about packing a duffel bag with your necessities, and by the time morning came, you were waiting out on your front step for Rhett to arrive.

He pulled up at 7 o’clock on the dot, and he climbed out of the truck to greet you. “Mornin’.” His kind smile sent a fuzzy warmth rushing through you, as if you’d just sipped a glass of bubbly champagne.

“Morning,” came your response. He graciously took your bag from you and placed it into the bed of his truck. Then he opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into the confines of the vehicle.

“Y’ hungry?” He asked after he’d settled into his side.

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled, and you gave him a sheepish look. “I haven’t eaten yet.”

“I’ll fix that.” He pulled out of your driveway and headed into town, there he stopped at Royal Donut, the local donut shop. He took you inside and let you choose whatever donuts you wanted. You walked out of that shop with a dozen assorted favorites, cups of coffee, and some other bakery items.

It was more than you could ever eat, but Rhett spared no expense. And as he drove, you happily ate your fill of donuts, a treat that you never bought yourself. He seemed pleased that you were enjoying the sweet treats.

And thus began your trip to Wyoming with a mysterious, silver-haired cowboy.

The further away you got from that shitty town, the more at ease you felt. You relaxed into the leather seat of Rhett’s Silverado, and you let yourself forget about your problems for just a little while.

You found Rhett incredibly easy to talk to. He had this way about him that made you want to talk to him. You wanted to know more about this man who’d walked into your life and whisked you away. This was the kind of thing that only happened in movies and storybooks. It didn’t happen to small-town girls who led flat, broke-down lives.

And yet, there he was, driving with one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting atop the gearshift, looking like a dream with his hair haphazardly brushed back with his fingers, wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, with an ornate belt fastened around his waist.

There was a pair of black cowboy boots on his feet. You never thought you’d find such a thing attractive, but you did. He was every bit a cowboy as you could have imagined. Open pack of Marlboros in the cup holder. Pistol in the glove compartment. Dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror.

He told you the dreamcatcher was given to him by an old friend named Joy Hawk. “She passed a few years ago. Every time I look at it I think of her.”

You admired the colorful beads, watching as the feathers fluttered from the air conditioning. Someday, you would find that same dreamcatcher beside your bed, because Rhett noticed you admiring it so much that he decided you should have it. But until then, it would remain dangling upon his rearview.

During that lengthy road trip, you talked about anything and everything. You revealed some details about your life and explained why you had a negative reputation, of sorts, within your town.

“You mean that fuckin’ asshole that tripped you spread rumors that you were tradin’ sex for money?” He clarified, his hand tightening on the steering wheel.

“I-I think so. That’s the only reason I can think the rumor even got started. His pride was hurt when i said I wouldn’t sleep with him.”

Rhett ran his tongue over his teeth, breathing in deeply. “I shoulda beat his ass like I wanted to. Fucker deserves it.”

You shook your head. “What you did last night was more than enough. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get arrested on account of you defending me. I’d feel so bad,” you said.

“I wouldn’t’ve gotten arrested. And even if I did, they’d let me go after I made a phone call.”

You looked at him curiously. “Why? You famous or something?”

“Not really. Won a couple bull ridin’ circuits. Own a cattle ranch. I just have good connections. And a good lawyer.”

Something about his answer made you think he was being modest. With the way he threw money around so freely, and the way he was dressed, you knew he was more wealthy and powerful than he was letting on. But you chose not to question it further. If he wanted you to know more, he’d tell you.

Instead of talking about his status, he changed the subject. He talked about his family, and how rocky his relationship was with them.

“It all fell apart when I was in my early 30s. Found out my wife was cheatin’ on me with my brother.”

Your jaw dropped at his revelation. “Oh my gosh. With your own brother?! That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “I got over it. But it took me a while. I spiraled pretty hard after it. Did some shit I ain’t proud of, all because I was angry. But that was a long time ago. I’m in a better place now.”

“You never remarried?”

“Nah. Just never found anyone I wanted to settle down with. Maria, my ex-wife, tried to rekindle things but I never could look her in the eye again after what she did. So I just put all my focus into buildin’ a life for myself. Rode in a few rodeos. Built a house. Been runnin’ a cattle business for the last decade. Haven’t had time for anyone special.”

“Except for me,” you quietly murmured.

He smirked, nodding in agreement. “Except for you, little darlin’.” Then he paused. “‘s alright if I call ya that?”

“Yeah. I like the sound of it.”

From that moment on, you became Rhett Abbott’s little darlin’, and everything changed. You wondered what made you special. What made him decide, fifteen years after his marriage went down the drain, to open his arms to someone else?

You’d never understand, but you didn’t have to. Rhett had pulled you from the miry pit you’d been sinking into, and you would be forever grateful to him for it. You didn’t know it yet, but he would soon lavish you with everything you could ever want or need. He would provide for you beyond your wildest dreams, and you would wake up every day and thank your lucky stars that he had walked into that shitty hole-in-the-wall diner and swept you off your feet.

Now you were on your way out west to his big ranch to start a new life. You had no idea how he was going to work out all the details. There were still so many loose ends you had to tie up in your personal life. To anyone else, this decision probably seemed like the most foolish decision you could’ve possibly made. But to you, it felt like fate, so you decided to take it as such.

Instead of worrying about those things, you allowed yourself to be in the moment, getting to know Rhett during all those hours in the truck together. He got you whatever you wanted to eat along the way. Fries, milkshakes, your favorite treats. You felt a little bad that he was spending money on you, but at the same time, it felt nice to be spoiled, so you allowed yourself to bask in it.

The trip took twelve hours in total, and toward the end, you fell asleep with your head resting against the window. A few hours later, you woke with a start when you felt the truck pulling to a stop.

“Shh, you’re alright,” Rhett’s low cadence filled your ears. “Just pullin’ into the drive.”

Suddenly, you were very much awake as you realized what you were looking at. You’d finally arrived, and although it was dark, you could see that the property was large. And the house you were approaching was bigger than you could’ve imagined.

Your eyes went wide. So he was rich, rich.

You were essentially speechless as you climbed out of the truck and followed Rhett to the front door. There was a motion light that had turned on as soon as he pulled the truck to a stop, illuminating the front of the large house. It was designed to look like a rustic cabin, but much bigger. Wood beams framed the expansive porch. Even the front door was wooden. A few rocking chairs decorated the porch. Green fern plants hung from the ceiling, creating a whimsical feel.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting his home to look like, but this exceeded your wildest expectations. You drank everything in as he took you inside, standing there dumbly in the entryway as he reached over and flipped several light switches on one switchplate, illuminating the front of the home.

An entry area with a plush rug stretched out before you. It opened up into the main living room, which was furnished with two leather couches, some comfortable-looking overstuffed chairs, a bearskin rug, a custom coffee table, and so many more odds and ends that made it feel like a home.

“Whoa,” you whispered to yourself in amazement. Your own home looked like a tattered shoebox compared to this. “How is this real?”

Rhett smiled at your wonder. “It’s real. Built it myself.”

Your eyes went wide as saucers. “You built this?!”

“Not by myself, I had a lotta help, but yeah. C’mon, let me show you where you’re gon’ be stayin’. I’ll give ya a tour tomorrow, I’m sure you’re wiped out and want some sleep.”

You were in fact wide awake, but you let him lead you up to your room anyway. You followed up up the wide, wooden staircase and up to an open hallway, complete with wooden banisters. It overlooked the main floor of the house and gave you an idea of just how big the place really was.

On your way down the hallway, you passed a few different rooms, and you noticed that one had a nameplate on it with the name Amy etched into it. You wondered if it was too forward to ask him about it, but the words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“Who’s Amy?” You asked as you trailed after the man.

He glanced back at you. “Amy’s my niece. She don’t stay here much anymore, she’s grown, and she’s off backpackin’ through the Appalachian Trail with her wife, last I heard. I just kept her room the way it was in case she ever needs to stay with me.”

You nodded in understanding, and you wondered if she was the daughter of the brother that Rhett’s wife had cheated on him with, but you didn’t ask any more questions. You already felt like you were imposing enough as it was, and you felt it was rude to interrogate this man who’d just invited you into his home out of the goodness of his heart.

You didn’t have time to continue your questions anyway, because Rhett stopped at the end of the hall and opened the door to another bedroom, motioning for you to step inside. The first thing you noticed was its coziness, with a large, plush rug covering most of the floor. The bed was queen-sized, set inside a bedframe made of logs.

There were rich oak nightstands on either side of the bed with ornate wrought iron lamps. There was even a flatscreen television mounted to the wall across from the bed. But best of all, there was a large, stone-hewn fireplace along the far wall. You were blown away. It was the nicest bedroom you’d ever seen. And the bed looked so inviting. Maybe you would finally get a good night’s sleep and wake up without any lower back pain, as you were prone to.

“Rhett, I…” you started, but you couldn’t form the words.

He smiled as he walked over to place your bag atop the bed. “Don’t mention it, little darlin’. For now, I want ya to get some sleep. Bathroom’s right over there,” he motioned toward a door on the other side of the room. “Should be toiletries and whatnot in there. My housekeeper Kira usually keeps everythin’ stocked.”

Your brows shot up. He had a housekeeper? It only made sense, seeing as how the place was so big and he was only one person. Even so, it was a lot to process. How on earth had you gotten so lucky to meet this guy? It still felt like a sick joke that God was playing on you. But you’d enjoy the joke for as long as you could.

However, there was no joke. No one was pulling a fast one on you. Rhett Abbott was a sincere man who truly wanted to help you, a poor waitress down on your luck. And help you, he did. After you got settled in that night, he set about doing exactly as he told you he would; taking care of things.

Over the next few weeks, he began the process of having all of your things moved to his place. He worked behind the scenes to cover all of your financial expenses. He paid any outstanding balances and bills you had, down to the very last dime.

In just a short amount of time, your entire life changed. You went from barely keeping your head above water, to floating atop the same water on a pool float with a mimosa in hand. Rhett became your protector, your provider, the best thing to ever happen to you.

Gone were the days of worrying if you’d have enough money to buy groceries or pay your electric bill. As the months went by, Rhett provided everything you could ever need or want. Clothes, jewelry, shoes, food, hygiene products. He spared no expense and he was more than happy to lavish you with those things.

He’d well and truly become your savior, and you would be forever grateful to him for giving you a chance when no one else would.

As time passed, and you fell into an easy routine of life with the gray-haired cowboy, you found yourself falling in love with him. Being in his presence felt so safe and warm, and you became drunk off of that feeling. You couldn’t help but fall head over heels, and he was there to catch you when you did, confessing that he, too, loved you.

It felt natural. It felt right. And Rhett hadn’t allowed himself to love anyone in this way since his marriage had fallen apart. Even then, he never truly knew what love was. He’d only married Maria because he was afraid of being alone. A lot of good it had done him, because he’d ended up alone anyway.

But all of those events in his life had led him here, to you, and he realized then that it was all worth it. The pain, the suffering, the hardships he’d endured were simply molding him into the man you needed him to be. Taking care of you gave him purpose.

He pledged himself to you, promising that he would take care of you for as long as he lived, and even after, he would see to it that you didn’t have to worry about a thing. You would be financially set for the rest of your life. It was a concept that was so foreign to you that it was difficult to wrap your mind around.

Money would never be a concern for you ever again.

But for you, it wasn’t about the money. Of course, the financial stability was wonderful, but you came to the conclusion that you would be happy with Rhett no matter your situation. Rich, poor, anything in between. You were content with all of it as long as he was by your side. Not only was he your savior, but he was also the love of your life.

He had so much to teach you, from all the years of life he’d lived. He’d seen so much in his forty-five years, he had many stories to tell, and you eagerly listened to all of them. As time went on, he opened up more and more.

You were curious as to how he made so much money. He didn’t tell you all the details, but the gist was that he raised and sold cattle, and it had become a wildly successful means of living for him. Before his livestock business, he was a bull rider. You’d seen the medals and trophies in his office. He was modest about his riding career, but his awards boasted of national fame in the rodeo circuit. He was one of the best there was.

He explained that he’d had to give up riding when he was still young. “Most guys get ten or so years in the circuit. I got seven. Fucked up m’ shoulder and wrist one too many times. Got to the point where I couldn’t hold onto the ropes anymore. My last ride damn near killed me, I thought I could handle it but I lost m’ grip and went down. Landed me in the hospital for a month.”

He showed you the various scars and injuries he’d suffered during his riding career. His shoulder was littered with aged scars, which were from extensive surgeries he’d undergone just to be able to use it still.

After that, you spent many a night massaging lotion into that shoulder, just to give him some temporary relief of the pain he still suffered. He was grateful for your gentle touch, and he found himself marveling at how he got so lucky to find someone like you.

But life wasn’t all rhinestone cowboys and star-spangled rodeos. While he made an honest living with his job, he had his fair share of issues when it came to his wealth. After his divorce, he’d spiraled out of control and gotten himself in trouble with some powerful people.

Those days were behind him, and he’d since paid his dues, but he still had those enemies who would jump at the chance to see his success go down the drain. Particularly the neighboring Tillerson ranch.

The Abbotts had a long history with the Tillersons. And that history had carried on through each generation. Rhett’s father, Royal, had been dead for the better part of a decade, and the Tillerson patriarch, Wayne, had been dead for even longer. But his sons were still alive and kickin’. And they’d do anything to knock Rhett down a few pegs and gain the upper hand in the business realm.

Rhett had fought tooth and nail to get where he was today. He was the son of an impoverished cowboy, he had extremely humble beginnings and was always told he wouldn’t amount to much. But he’d proved everyone wrong just by succeeding. Because of all the blood, sweat, and tears he’d put into his livelihood, he was especially protective of it, and never allowed anyone to threaten what was his.

You knew Rhett was protective. You had seen it early on when you first met him, when he defended you against those boys in the diner. But you saw it again one day when you faced his competitors one night at a rancher’s event.

He told you that you didn’t have to go. “Don’t want ya to feel obligated, little darlin’.”

“I want to go, so I can support you,” you insisted. “Besides, I couldn’t pass up seeing my man dressed up all fancy.”

He smiled shyly. “If you’re sure, then okay.”

“I’m sure. Plus, it’s high time I let everyone know you’re off the market, right?”

Despite your upbeat attitude, part of you was nervous. Rhett had told you how some of these people behaved, and how judgmental they could be. You were afraid of what they might say when they noticed how much younger you were than Rhett.

But your relationship wasn’t something you wanted to hide. To hell with what others thought, or at least, that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. You wanted to walk in on Rhett’s arm and have him show you off.

And that was exactly what you did. Rhett bought you a new dress, a deep blue to match the shirt he wore. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He wore his nicest pair of jeans, the blue shirt with a bolo tie around the collar, his most expensive belt, decorated with his favorite buckle that was polished to perfection. His silver hair was neatly combed back, and he wore a jet-black hat atop his head.

He’d never looked more beautiful, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to be called his. You walked into the event that night with your arm looped through his, butterflies of nervousness fluttering in your belly.

“You’re gon’ do just fine,” he quietly assured you. You smiled and squeezed his bicep in thanks.

And you were just fine. Until it came time to meet people. You were content to keep to yourself, safely tucked into Rhett’s side. But everyone noticed you, because it was a rarity for him to come to an event with a plus one.

It was Luke Tillerson’s wife, Camilla, that took it upon herself to find out who you were. “Who’s your little friend, Rhett?” She spoke up.

Little friend? You didn’t like her tone. But Rhett didn’t let it affect him. He tightened his arm around your waist and replied. “This here’s my girlfriend,” he introduced you.

The woman made a face, eyeing you up and down. You immediately felt scrutinized. “Oh, how…cute.”

“She is, ain’t she?” He said, gazing down at you lovingly, purposely ignoring her implication. But he could tell you were bothered, he could see it in your eyes. You stepped closer to him, pressing yourself against his side.

You’d never felt so out of place in your life. These people were all filthy rich. They’d been born into wealth. Surely they would see you as Rhett’s charity case if they knew your background.

“Abbott!” A male voice suddenly interrupted the conversation. An older man dressed in an expensive suit and sporting a stereotypical handlebar mustache approached Rhett, and before you or Rhett could protest, he whisked him away, claiming he had someone for him to meet.

This left you entirely alone with Camilla. Your palms grew sweaty and your muscles tensed. You were afraid she was going to start prying into your business. And sure enough, she did.

“You’re awfully young,” the woman remarked, idly sipping the expensive cocktail she held between her manicured fingers.

“And what about it?” You asked, immediately defensive. You’d been afraid this would happen.

“Oh, don’t take it personally, hon. I just didn’t think Rhett would stoop to such a level. I mean, what are you, mid-20s? He must have been incredibly desperate.”

You bristled, your skin growing hot beneath your dress. “I really don’t appreciate that,” you gritted out. “He isn’t desperate. It’s not like that.”

Camilla laughed it off. “Oh, you sweet child. You don’t get it, do you? He’s having a midlife crisis. You’re only a phase. Once he gets sick of you? He’ll drop you like a bad habit. He’s only interested in one thing, and it’s not your brains or pretty face.”

You wanted to throw angry, biting words right back at her, but you were speechless. You couldn’t believe the audacity of this woman to speak so boldly to someone she’d never even met. You could feel tears welling in your eyes, and although you willed them to go away, they wouldn’t.

“H-he’s not like that,” you whispered, repeating yourself. You had been with him for nearly a year. Not once did he ever display the tendencies she was describing.

“Honey, I’m just trying to warn you so you don’t get hurt when he gets bored. Go find a man your own age before it’s too late.”

Those tears welling in your eyes began to make their way down your cheeks before you could stop them. You couldn’t fathom how someone could be so cruel. Camilla said something else to you, but you didn’t hear her. You were too overwhelmed, too hurt. Your immediate instinct was to find Rhett. With your breath coming out in short, shallow gasps as you tried to hold in your tears, you turned, your blurry eyes scanning the room for him.

But Rhett had already seen you, and he was making a beeline for you. As soon as he appeared in your line of sight, you knew he was going to come to your aid. He’d been watching you warily from the corner of his eye as he talked to a potential new business partner, because he knew how Camilla Tillerson was. She’d never grown out of her high school mean-girl phase, and she thought just because she was Mrs. Luke Tillerson she could behave whichever way she wanted.

When he saw your shoulders tense, he knew something was wrong, and he excused himself to come to you. And then you turned, and there were tears in your eyes. It set off alarm bells in his head, and his chest tightened as anger welled up inside him.

As soon as he reached you, he was pulling you close, and you let yourself melt into the safety of his arms. Rhett had it handled, you didn’t have to worry anymore. “The fuck did you say to her, huh?!” He demanded.

Camilla’s eyes widened. “Nothing! I was just trying to give her some friendly advice, woman to woman.”

Rhett glared at her. “Like hell you were. You really gon’ stand there and insult my gal? And ain’t it convenient that you waited ‘til I walked away to do it?”

“Hey, there a problem here?” Another voice chimed in. This time, it was Luke’s.

Rhett sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, your wife. Tell her to keep her big mouth shut.”

He ignored Luke’s dramatic reaction, opting to instead end the argument and tend to you. He tucked you under his arm and he led you out of the room. You didn’t see it, but he made sure to hold his hand out behind him as he went, his middle finger in the air to get the message to Luke and his wife across.

Once he had you outside, he led you to the truck, where he stopped to let you pull yourself together. You wiped at your wet cheeks, and he kindly gave you the handkerchief he always kept in his pocket to help.

“How can someone be so mean?” You whimpered softly.

Rhett fought the urge to go back inside and start yelling. It wouldn’t help anything, and it would only get him banned from the event altogether for acting like a fool. Instead, he focused on you. “What’d she say to you, baby?”

You sniffled, staring down at the handkerchief as you gingerly folded the fabric over itself. You relayed the words Camilla had spoken to you, and you watched as Rhett’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving slightly.

“That fuckin’ bitch,” he gritted out. Then he grimaced apologetically. “‘scuse the term, I don’t like to call ladies names but that one deserves it. I can’t believe she’d do that to ya.”

“It’s what I get for thinking I could measure up to all this. I’m nothing compared to all those people in there. They’re filthy rich and I’m just fuckin’ trailer park trash!”

In an instant, Rhett had your face in his hand. “Don’t you dare start talkin’ like that about yourself. I ain’t gon’ stand for it. You got just as much a right to be there as anyone else.”

“Do I? Or am I just your arm candy?” As soon as you said the words, you regretted them.

“You know that’s not true,” he lowly said. “You’re not a fuckin’ object, alright? You’re a brilliant human being and I’m sorry the others can’t see that.”

You wanted to say more, but you were too emotional. “Can we please just go home?”

Rhett sighed softly, but relented. “We’ll talk more about it later.” And then he opened the passenger door of the truck and allowed you to climb in.

Camilla’s words and attitude had really gotten to you. You knew what she said about Rhett wasn’t true, but there was still that nagging voice of insecurity that made you think it was true.

What if he did eventually get bored of you? What if he didn’t even love you and he truly was only interested in you for what you brought to the table sexually? Those were all lies, and you knew that. But the longer you let them fester, the more tortured you felt.

When you arrived home that night, you went right up to the bedroom without saying a word to Rhett. He stood at the foot of the steps and watched you go up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed tiredly and sauntered over to his extravagant liquor cabinet.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one go before he poured another, and then made his way upstairs to where you were already getting ready for bed. He decided to give you a few moments of silence before he tried talking to you again. You obviously needed a little time.

Instead, he busied himself with getting ready for bed himself, shedding his clothes and slipping into a fresh pair of underwear to sleep in. Then he finished off his whiskey before he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

It wasn’t long before he was settling into bed, all while you were still busy at your vanity, going through your skincare ritual. He gave you that time to yourself as he cracked open the book he’d been reading the last few nights, perching his reading glasses on his nose as he did so.

A few minutes later, you joined him in bed, slipping beneath the plush covers. He didn’t waste another moment as he quickly set his book aside. “We need to talk this out.”

You sighed. “I know.”

“Do you? Because I don’t think y’ do.”

You looked at him with a furrowed brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, I ain’t the best with words, but…I don’t think you know just how much you mean to me. I don’t give a shit what Camilla Tillerson says. She’s wrong, you hear me? You’re not just some phase that I’m gon’ get bored of. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You make me a better man and I’m forever grateful, you hear me? So fuck what all them prissy, starch-collared cowboys think. Because I know the truth. And the truth is that you’re the love of my life. Nothing’s gon’ change that.”

At his earnest confession, your eyes welled with tears again. “Oh, Rhett,” you whispered. You moved closer, wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you, you hear me, girl? I’ll love you ‘til the day I die.”

And somehow, you knew he would.

His confession eased your fears, but there was still that little insecure voice within you. However, somewhere along the way, you determined in your heart that you were done caring about what people thought.

You loved Rhett, and he loved you. You weren’t going to hide that. So you continued attending events with him, walking in with your head held high, proud to be standing by your man’s side. You didn’t let anyone talk poorly about him, or yourself. You stayed far away from Camilla Tillerson, and you refused to listen to comments that she or her family made toward you. What they thought didn’t matter.

Rhett proved his love to you over and over again. He showed you that what you shared was real and true. That you were the only one for him. And it wasn’t long before he pledged that love to you with a ring.

You were married in the woods. You wore a whimsical dress with a crown of flowers in your hair. You even got Rhett to wear flowers in his hair. You said your vows under an old weeping willow, with the local pastor officiating. Rhett’s niece Amy and her wife flew in to witness the marriage, and his mother Cecelia, who was well up in years, but still just as lucid and fiery as she’d ever been, came too.

It was a quiet, intimate ceremony. And after it was all said and done, Rhett treated you to a honeymoon in the mountains, in a little log cabin built for two. It was blissful and dreamy and everything you ever could’ve hoped your honeymoon to be.

He treated you like a queen, and you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he was it for you. There was no one else you could imagine spending your life with. He’d found you at rock bottom and offered you a steady hand to hold, slowly pulling you to your feet and building you up until your old life was but a bad memory.

With Rhett, you wanted for nothing. You were loved, provided for, protected. He was the greatest gift you’d ever been bestowed, and you cherished him every waking moment.

Now, whenever there were business events to attend, you walked proudly by his side, displaying the beautiful ring he’d placed upon your finger, letting everyone know that you were the one that had made Rhett Abbott believe in romance again after all these years of wallowing in his own loneliness.

Your life together was sweet, and it went down easy like a spoonful of honey. Gone were the rough days and the fear of wondering if you’d end up living on the streets. Now, you woke up every morning to the sun streaming through your windows and your husband’s strong arm slung across your waist, and you silently whispered a prayer of thanks to the universe for it.

That was exactly the kind of morning you’d just woken up to. It was early, especially to be awake on a Sunday morning, but you were alert as could be. Beside you, Rhett was still sleeping peacefully, the sheets slung loosely over his naked hip, his silver hair mussed against the pillow.

Sundays were his day of rest. He wasn’t above doing hard labor, and could often be found working out in the fields with his ranch hands. But Sundays were reserved for rest and spending time with you. Usually, you would gently wake him, but because it was early, you decided to let him rest a little longer. He deserved it after a long and arduous week.

Instead, you slipped out of bed and went to get into your swimsuit so you could jump into the in ground pool in the back. Although the sun had barely been up that long, it was already quite hot outside, and you were eager to take a dip in the cool water to start your day.

You donned a white bikini. It was simple, but it was Rhett’s favorite. Particularly because the straps wear easy to untie and gave him easy access to the body that he loved so much. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, because you knew he would be delighted to wake up to the sight of you in your skimpy bathing suit clinging to your wet skin.

As you sneaked back through the bedroom, he was still sound asleep, and you left him be. You padded through the house with your feet bare, the air conditioning cool against your exposed skin as you went, raising goosebumps in its wake.

But the second you stepped outside, you warmed right up. You stopped to grab a beach towel and a bottle of SPF in the outdoor cabinet near the door, and then you took a moment to put on the cream, allowing it to soak in for a bit before you stepped toward the pool and dipped your foot in, shivering at the coolness.

Sucking in a breath, you finally went for it, quickly lowering yourself off of the concrete edge and plunging straight into the water. You squeaked at the cold shock, but moments later, your body grew used to the temperature, and you relaxed, closing your eyes for a moment before you swam to the other edge of the pool to grab a large innertube to float around on.

You pulled it over your body and then rested your arms over the inflated edge, breathing out a sigh as you let yourself float around aimlessly. You rested your head atop your hands, letting your eyes drift shut as the water gently lapped at your body. It felt heavenly, and you relished in every moment of it.

You couldn’t believe that this was your reality. A giant in-ground pool in the middle of a glorious ranch in Wyoming. Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined you’d be in this position, but here you were, all thanks to your million dollar man.

“Thought I’d find y’ out here.” Speak of the devil.

You smiled, lifting your head to take in the sight of your husband. He was dressed only in the white underwear he’d worn to bed, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander brazenly, drifting toward his crotch.

“Mornin’, Daddy,” you sighed.

He raised a brow as he stopped at the edge of the pool. You eagerly swam toward him, and he leaned down to kiss you. “Mornin’, little darlin’. Sleep okay?”

“Like a baby.”

He smiled, kissing you again before he turned, opting to take a seat on one of the soft lounge chairs. You watched as he reached into the side table that stood beside the chair, pulling out his pipe set. You couldn’t help but bite your lips as you watched him ready the old pipe. It had been given to him by his grandfather, and he only used it once in a while. It was intricate, hand carved and passed down through the generations.

He noticed you eyeing him, and he smirked. “What? I’m feelin’ fancy this mornin’, sue me.”

You shook your head. “Oh, no, keep going. You know how sexy I think you look with a pipe.”

He rolled his eyes as he pressed a scoop of cherry tobacco down into the pipe. “Yeah. Sexy like a fuckin’ grandfather.”

“Exactly.”

He snorted in laughter. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot who I was dealin’ with. My wife loves old men.”

You giggled in response. “Hey, I only have eyes for one old man, and that’s you.”

You shared a good-natured, knowing look with him before you spontaneously turned and dipped back into the water. Rhett leaned back against the lounge chair, taking a puff from the pipe and letting the smoke curl into the air. He watched you through hooded eyes, admiring the way your body moved in the water. He noticed that you were wearing his favorite bikini of yours, and he couldn’t help but groan low in his chest.

You swam about for a few more laps, all under Rhett’s watchful eye, before you finally decided to get out of the water. You felt his gaze on your body as you emerged from the pool dripping wet, bathing suit clinging to your skin. Your nipples were prominent beneath the fabric against your breasts, and Rhett could see it clearly.

You grabbed the towel you’d set out early, using it to dry your body, right in front of your husband. You turned to catch his cool blue gaze, and the way he was looking at you made you weak in the knees. He stared right at you as he brought his pipe back to his lips, and this time, when he released the smoke, he created smoke rings that floated up into the air.

God, did he really have to make everything so sexy?

“What’s’a matter, honey?” He teased, a twinkle in his eye.

“Nothin’!” You peeped, shaking your head as you finished trying off.

He smirked again, and you wanted to wipe it off his face. Then he leaned back, spreading his legs. You had full view of his cock, and those heavy balls of his, barely hidden by the fabric of his underwear. You swore you began salivating, and he wasn’t even hard yet.

“Come sit on daddy’s lap, little darlin’.”

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play. Without a word of protest, you tossed your towel aside and climbed into his lap. He set his pipe in its cradle so both of his hands could rest on your hips. “Look so pretty, glimmerin’ like a fuckin’ diamond,” he mused, admiring your damp, shimmering skin.

You leaned in, searching out his lips, and he obliged you, kissing you languidly. In the process, you lifted your hand, discreetly tugging at one of the ties on your bikini top. When you parted, the top conveniently fell, revealing your breast.

“Oh, oopsie!” You exclaimed.

Rhett rolled his eyes. “Yeah, oopsie.” But he brought his hand up to untie the other side, and then the back. With ease, he plucked the fabric from your body and tossed it aside, revealing your chest. “Much better.” Then he surged forward, opening his mouth to swirl his hot, wet tongue around a nipple.

You gasped lowly when he closed his lips around the little bud, suckling softly. “Know I can’t resist these fuckin’ gorgeous titties,” he growled, teeth nipping at you.

“I know,” you gasped, “‘s why I wore this set.”

He grinned at you as he made quick work of untying the bottoms. “I figured. Dirty little slut, know exactly how to get daddy goin’, don’t ya?”

He went back to mouthing at your breast, his other hand coming up to knead at the one he wasn’t laving his tongue all over. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him as you relished in the feeling of his teeth gently scraping against your nipples. It sent shockwaves of pleasure crackling along your spine, and you could feel yourself growing wetter by the minute.

Rhett was obsessed with your tits. He always wanted his hands or his mouth all over them, and you were more than happy to oblige.

“Can’t get enough of ya,” he murmured, his large, warm hands squeezing your ass. “Mind if I fuck t’ out here, baby? Or would you rather go inside where it’s cooler?” He was always so considerate of your comfort.

“Out here,” you gasped as you pulled his mouth to yours, your fingers threading through that silvery hair. “Don’t wanna wait.”

He hummed in amusement. “Impatient lil thang,” he drawled.

“Can’t help it,” you sighed as you positioned yourself so your pussy was against his slowly hardening cock. “Need my daddy right now.”

He growled low in his chest. “Yeah? Poor baby, daddy’ll give you what you need.”

You whined in response, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you began to rock your hips back and forth. His big arms came up to wrap around your torso, and you basked in the feeling, eyes drifting shut. You felt so safe, surrounded by him. The sweet scent of cherry tobacco was comforting, paired with the scent of his shampoo, and the natural, intoxicating musk that could only be described as Rhett.

You could get drunk off of his scent alone.

When he realized you were inhaling him, he hummed knowingly. You were like a little puppy, the way you always sniffed at him. He found it endearing.

But then he felt your cunt soaking through the fabric of his underwear, right against his cock, and he forgot all about that cute little quirk of yours, his brain short-circuiting.

Above him, you could feel him growing harder and harder against you. It was your favorite feeling, because when he was hard, he grew so big. You’d never forget the first time you saw his hard cock. You had meekly questioned how it was going to fit inside you.

Now you took it like a champ, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still like to talk it up and tell him how big he was. You knew how much it got him going.

You looked down, and whimpered pathetically when you saw him growing between your legs. Almost frantically, you began rutting your hips more quickly, building friction.

“Hey now,” Rhett drawled, “slow down there, baby. We got all mornin’, ain’t no rush.”

He tipped your chin up to kiss you again, and you shivered in his arms. “I know. But I wan’ you now. Need to be full, need your fat fucking cock inside me.”

Rhett’s eyes widened at your brazen language. He wasn’t shocked by it, he just wasn’t used to you being so bold right off the bat. Usually, it took getting you a little worked up for the filthy talk to start, but he was already getting your unfiltered desires and you’d barely even begun.

Before he could reply, you were scrambling to get his underwear down his legs. Moving quickly, he aided you, yanking them down the rest of the way and kicking them aside.

Without warning, your hand was on him, stroking him to full hardness as he grunted in surprise. You leaned forward and let a trail of spit fall from your pursed mouth, right onto the shiny, pink tip.

You used it as lubricant to stroke him further, but within seconds, he was gently pulling your hand away. He then reached between your thighs and slid his middle and ring fingers inside you, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat. “Gotta get you ready,” he murmured, and suddenly he was fucking his fingers into you hard and fast as you squealed and fell forward against him, the obscene wet sound reaching your ears.

You weakly grasped at his arm, unable to speak, but you knew if he kept going you’d end up squirting all over him. “Da-d-daddy!” You managed to squeak.

And then, all at once, he stopped. He pulled his fingers from you and used your slick to further lube up his cock. You watched, salivating as the tip began to glisten with precum. Eagerly, you reached down, swiping your finger over the slit and smearing it around.

Rhett gasped, shivering at the sensitivity.

“So pretty, Daddy,” you mused, admiring the glimmering hardness beneath you.

“S’all for you, little darlin’,” he rasped. Then he grabbed your hips, arranging you properly before he aligned himself with you. “Let’s see if this needy pussy is ready f’ me.”

He ran the plush tip over your aching clit, and you trilled softly, closing your eyes in anticipation. Then, finally, you felt him as your entrance. Slowly, oh so slowly, he began to push into you. Little by little, your anatomy stretched to accommodate him. You could feel every vein, every twitch, and it already had your eyes rolling back in your head.

“‘ere you go,” he praised, his eyes fixed on the place where your bodies met. “Just a little further. C’mon honey, I know you can do it.”

At his encouragement, you sank down all the way, until you felt his balls pressing against you and you’d taken him down to the hilt. Then you glanced down and smiled proudly. “I did it, Daddy. I took the whole thing!”

Rhett beamed. “Atta girl. Takin’ it like you were made to.” His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb stroking the skin. “You wan’ do it by yourself or do ya need Daddy’s help?”

Your brow furrowed as you considered the ultimatum. “I wanna try to do it by myself first.”

He nodded, leaving a kiss to your knows. “Alright then, go ahead. Take what y’ need.”

You placed your hands on his big, broad shoulders and began to slowly move atop him, using your thighs to lift yourself off before sinking back down. Rhett’s own hands found purchase on your thighs, lovingly squeezing at the flesh, enjoying the feeling of you building your own rhythm.

As you did so, he dipped his head forward again, mouthing at your breasts, tongue swirling around each nipple. You let out a soft moan at the feeling, taking in every sensation you felt.

The stretch of his cock inside you, the shock of his teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh, the feeling of his hands, calloused from years of work, resting on your thighs. His presence was so big and manly, surrounding you entirely. You felt so safe, like nothing in the world could harm you.

“Love you, Daddy,” you breathed as you began moving faster, focusing on the task at hand. Up, down, swivel your hips against his. A steady rhythm that you stayed with, periodically tightening around him as you did so.

“Love you too, baby.”

Rhett watched you above him, his eyes shining like the stars. You were so beautiful like this, slipping into the throes of pleasure. He wished he could have this moment etched in gold and display it on the walls of his home.

Your soft whimpers filled his head, swirling around like the smoke from his pipe. The sweetest music to his ears. He ran his hands along your body, as if committing the feel of your soft skin to memory.

“So pretty like this, ain’t ya? Usin’ Daddy for your own pleasure.”

At that, you moaned, opening your eyes to gaze into his own. “Feels so good.”

“I know. I can feel you gettin’ wetter.”

And he could. Your arousal had begun to drip down against his balls, and you were so slick that you had to focus on being careful so you didn’t accidentally take him too deep and hurt yourself.

But soon, your thighs began to burn, and you grew fatigued from doing all the work. You’d bitten off more than you could chew. You needed help.

“C-can you take over, please?” You asked.

“Already?” He cooed. “I thought for sure you’d last longer. You’re just a pathetic little thing, ain’t ya? Need Daddy’s help with everything.”

“Yes sir,” you agreed, nodding your head and gazing at him with doe eyes.

“Don’t worry. I gotcha.” His hands tightened around your hips, and suddenly, he was moving you up and down on his cock with his sheer strength. You gasped loudly, immediately falling forward against his strong chest as he did so.

You felt every inch stretching you, splitting you open. Your mouth parted to let out your unabashed moans and whines, already so blissed out that you were drooling against his chest.

He began shifting his hips up to meet yours each time he brought you down, jarring you as he fucked you fast and deep, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass.

But he didn’t let you get too used to that position, because it wasn’t long before he was suddenly pulling you off of him. You squeaked in protest, looking at him in confusion.

“Want you on y’re hands and knees,” he gruffed. He slipped out from under you, and you watched his hard cock bob as he got up, glistening in the morning light.

He had to arrange you how he saw fit, because you were too preoccupied staring at his dick. Then he was behind you, clutching your hip with one hand while the other aligned himself with your cunt.

In one swift but careful thrust, he was back inside you, and you all but howled against the lounge chair. He lifted his hand to swat your ass, leaving a brief sting that was soothed by his gentle palm.

Then that same hand rested on the small of your back as he pushed you all the way forward so your face was against the cushion. Then he began to roll his hips forward, and you whined at the feeling. This angle was so much more intense, and he felt even bigger somehow.

“S’big, Daddy!”

“I know. Poor little pussy’s just stretchin’ so wide to take me. I don’t know, think I should pull out and make you take m’ fingers instead?” He pulled his hips back, and you gasped, immediately reaching back to grab at his arm.

“No! I can take it, promise! I’m a big girl!”

“Are you? And here I was under the impression that y’ were just a little thing.”

“No! Please!” You begged.

Then he thrust forward, and you let out a wail into the open air. Good thing no one could hear you back here. “Alright then. Wan’ you to lay there and take every last inch of Daddy’s dick.”

And you did. He fucked you hard and fast, and you clawed at the cushions for purchase, your mouth open, your eyes screwed shut. It felt like heaven, and you were certain you weren’t even on Earth in that moment. You were floating above yourself, watching your husband claim you as his.

Again, drool spilled from your mouth, this time soaking the fabric of the cushion beneath you. You moaned and squealed and cried out, wonderfully blissed out.

But all too soon, Rhett was switching positions again. He pulled out of you once more, and this time, you wailed. “Daddy, no!”

“Be fuckin’ patient,” he huffed as he turned you onto your back. “I’m gon’ give it back to you.” He shoved your knees up toward your chest, and then he was inside you again, stealing the breath from your lungs.

This time, he pressed the weight of his body against you, keeping you grounded as he began fucking into you. A hand came up to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides, not to cut off airflow, but blood flow. Within seconds, your head was going woozy, and Rhett grinned down at you.

“Filthy little slut. Bet you’d come right now just from my hand around your throat if I let ya.”

You would, because you’d done it before. However, that wasn’t his goal in that particular instance. He simply wanted to watch the way your body reacted to it. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open, leaving you in this state of pure, unadulterated bliss.

He felt you tighten around him, and he grunted, pushing his cock even deeper. Your hands clutched at his flexed forearm, nails digging into the skin, sure to leave marks. He growled and grunted above you like a goddamned animal, fucking you within an inch of your life, and you took it like the good girl you were.

And then you felt it. The tip of his cock brushed something inside you that sent you into orbit.

“That’s it. Look at’cha. Got your eyes rollin’ back in your fuckin’ head.” Then he grabbed one of your hands and brought it down to your lower abdomen. “Feel that?”

All you could do was squeak in reply.

“‘S Daddy’s cock inside ya.”

At that, you let out a deep keen, tears beginning to stream down the sides of your face. You sobbed and moaned and made all sorts of sounds that you might’ve otherwise been embarrassed about, but Rhett couldn’t get enough.

Then his scruffy face was nuzzling into your neck, and his teeth were nipping at your pulse point, and you swore you were going to black out from the glorious intensity.

“D-d-” was what came out of your mouth. He knew what you were trying to say.

“What is it, huh darlin’? What’s my baby need?” Suddenly his fingers were at your aching clit, rubbing short, sharp circles, and you jolted against him like a live wire, pussy clamping around him. “Oh, that’s what you needed. Poor thing, Daddy was neglecting that sweet little clit. I’m sorry.”

He kissed you, swallowing your cries as he pumped his hips in time with his fingers at your clit. That, paired with his free hand still around your throat, you knew you were a goner.

“Go-gonna c-c-come! Please D-Daddy can I–”

But you didn’t even have to ask. “Come.”

And you did. You tried to scream, but it died in your throat. Instead, your mouth opened, but no sound came out. Rhett stayed close, his forehead pressed to yours as you fell apart around his pistoning cock.

You were free-falling, plunged straight into the depths of an orgasm so fiery and all-consuming that you lost yourself to it. You were not of yourself. You were on an entirely different plane of existence, vibrating with crackling electricity, as if you were a bolt of lightning flashing through the sky.

The molten heat surged through you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And Rhett held you the entire time, your body trembling fiercely in his arms.

It took some time to come back to yourself, and when you did, you found him gazing down at you, his eyes as clear blue as the sky above him. He let out a breathless laugh. “Hey there, darlin’. Welcome back to earth.” He’d slowed the movement of his hips just to let you recover.

“I…wow,” was all you could say.

“That was intense, huh?”

You nodded, your eyes watery.

“You okay to keep goin’? Or do you need a break?”

“I-I think I’m…okay.”

But that didn’t convince him. “Look at Daddy.” You lifted your eyes to his gaze. “I need a for-sure answer. Can I keep goin’?”

“Yes,” you finally answered with confidence. “Wan’ you to keep going, please Daddy.”

He smiled softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Good girl, that’s all I needed.” Then he kissed you before he leaned back, pushing your knees toward your chest again.

And just like that, the switch was flipped, and he slipped right back into that harsh dominance, as if it was a well-fitted glove. Suddenly he seemed so much bigger above you, and you felt tiny. It made your heart sing.

Slowly, he began to move within you again, and you whined, closing your eyes at the delicious stretch. Rhett leaned back to admire the sight of your pussy swallowing him whole, and the creamy ring of your cum that now decorated the base of his cock.

He reached down, swiping his fingers against the base and gathering your slick before he brought those same fingers to your mouth, sliding them past your lips. “Tastes so good, don’t it?” He murmured lowly, and you nodded in agreement, eyes wide and watery, gazing up at him with such trust and adoration.

He leaned in to kiss you, tasting your cum on your lips. He stayed close, wrapping your legs around your waist and pressing his chest to yours. He began to fuck you deep and slow, rutting into you. This allowed you to feel every inch, every spasm, everything.

He caged you in with his big strong arms, protecting you from the word. You were so safe. So secure. Rhett would protect you from all harm.

“You mind if Daddy fills y’ up, baby?”

“Please,” came your whisper.

“Good. ‘Cause ‘m close.”

With his mouth against yours, he began to pick up the pace again. Quick but deep thrusts, cock battering that spot inside you that made your toes curl. It was inevitable that you’d come once more before he did, just by the way he had you feeling. A steady pressure had begun to build deep within the core of your being, and eventually, it would have to be released.

Then his fingers were at your sensitive clit again and you were mewling into his open mouth. Stars danced in your eyes, on your skin. You felt like you were part of a glittering galaxy.

Your arms found their place around your husband’s shoulders, and you held tightly to him as he went a little faster, a little deeper. Building and building and building. And you were already growing closer by the second. You knew your end was almost upon you.

“Daddy!”

“Go ahead.”

This time, when you came, it flooded from you, soaking Rhett’s cock, dripping down beneath you onto the lounge cushion. It was his turn to have his eyes roll back in his head, and he fucked you through it.

“Fuck, got this pussy squirtin’ all over me,” he hissed, slipping out of you to run the tip of his cock rapidly over your clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you cry out.

Just as you came down, he slid back into your still-spasming cunt, grunting at the tightness that surrounded him. He gripped your thighs in his strong grasp and his focus shifted to chasing his release.

Beneath him you were so far gone that all you could do was lay there and take it, still writhing in bliss, silent, pleasured tears falling. Your head was swimming, you felt as if you were floating through time and space.

“Look at me,” Rhett’s lilted baritone filled your fuzzy head, and you opened your eyes, locking your gaze with his. “Gon’ fill your pretty pussy up. Want you to take it all like my good little darlin’.”

You nodded, eager to take his load. His movements quickened, hands clutching you tight as he thrust forward hard and fast. You held onto him to keep yourself grounded, body trembling, hovering on the brink of being too overstimulated to handle much more.

And then, finally, you felt it. Rhett gasped, mouth falling open as his orgasm overwhelmed him. He kept his hips flush with yours, cock spasming within you, spilling the heat of his release into the deepest part of you. And you took it all gladly, body relaxing entirely at the feeling of him claiming you. You’d never tire of it.

He gradually came down, his body falling limp above you, though he still kept himself from pressing his full body weight into you. His softening cock was still nestled inside you, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, hoping to keep him there a little longer.

“M’ good girl,” he cooed down at you. “Took that so well.”

You smiled dreamily up at him. You didn’t quite have the wherewithal to speak, but that was okay. He didn’t need you to speak. Gingerly, he moved to slip out of you, but you whined in protest, not wanting to part from him.

“Y’ gotta let me go, honey. Can’t stay like this forever.”

“W-want you close,” you whispered.

“I know, and you can have me. But I gotta get you cleaned up first. And it’s gettin’ hotter by the minute, I ain’t about to let my pretty little gal get heatstroke on my account.”

He kissed you sweetly as he pulled his hips back, shushing your cries. You hated the initial empty feeling, especially when you were feeling fragile like this. But Rhett was quick to soothe you.

“Up ya go.” He lifted you to your feet, and you wobbled a little, still woozy. He secured a steady arm around you and guided you back into the house.

It was much cooler inside, and it felt good on your heated skin. However, you hardly even registered what was taking place, you were still feeling floaty. But Rhett had it handled.

He guided you upstairs, where he made sure you used the bathroom and took a quick shower just to rinse off. You didn’t have to make any of the decisions for yourself, because he did it for you, knowing you couldn’t handle trying to clean up by yourself. You needed this form of aftercare for your own well-being.

A little while later, you were clean, and dressed in one of his old rodeo t-shirts. You felt a little more like yourself, albeit a little fuzzy. Rhett had just finished helping you put lotion on your legs, and he was smiling up at you from where he knelt on the floor.

“I’ll bet you’re hungry after all that work,” he teased.

You hummed sleepily. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“How do some blueberry pancakes sound for my little darlin’?”

It was your turn to smile. “Sounds so good.”

“Alright then, let’s head on downstairs. You’re also gon’ drink yourself a nice glass of water while you’re waitin’ for your food. Ain’t gonna have you dehydratin’ on me.”

You hummed in agreement and allowed him to lead you out of the bedroom and back downstairs. He kissed the top of your head as you went, and you sighed happily, feeling at peace.

You were led to the kitchen, where you sat at the round table and waited for your husband to prepare your breakfast. As promised, he slid a glass of water in front of you and encouraged you to drink it. You sipped on it as you watched him move about the kitchen, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how good you had it.

Spending the morning being fucked by the pool, and having breakfast made for you? The old you could never have imagined this would be the case. You were eternally grateful that life had given you a second chance and allowed this man to come to your rescue when you needed him most.

You had faced a lot of adversity in your life, but now, it all seemed worth it, because it led you here.

Rhett truly was your saving grace. The yin to your yang. The moon to your stars. He was your million dollar man, and you wouldn’t trade him, or his love, for anything else in the world.

tagging those who might be interested (if you liked/reblogged any of my mdm promotional posts, i tagged you lol)

@eternallyvenus @up-thereinthesky @antiquitea @cdauni @coffeewithcal @rhettabbotts @combat-sixty-three @karma-is-my-girlfrined @blitchenslibrary @whoeverineedtobe @l-ynsdove @ravenmoore14 @virgo-wonder @sugarcoated-lame @sebsxphia @peachystenbrough @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @damrlova @randomfandomgirl97 @bobfloyds @beepitybeepboop @buckys-estrella @callsign-magnolia @sunblchdfly @wkndwlff @withahappyrefrain @creatchie8 @topgun-imagines @lovinglyeternal @bobfloydsbabe

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott x you

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stagefoureddiediaz · 3 months

Text

Ok so Buck is getting a meta before I write my 7x03 meta and it’s all because of this still we just got!

We haven’t seen Buck in blue jeans (he’s worn jeans they’ve just always been super black) since season 2x01 - you know when Eddie rocked up at the station and put his shirt on - yeah you’re all thinking what I’m thinking aren’t you!!! The parallels of that jealous Buck and upcoming jealous Buck keep on paralleling. Putting him back in this style of jeans now is so very deliberate and interesting - if you ask me it’s playing not only into jealous Buck, but also into Buck and his hamster wheel - it’s playing on the whole buck 1.0 upgrade to 2.0 etc - there’s something about the fact that Buck essentially stops wearing jeans when he bonds with Eddie - something in the idea that that was the moment he was being both more true to himself, but also hiding a part of himself as well - it’s almost as if the intention is to parallel and revisit some of earlier Buck and explore him opening up the part he hid. Now with the context of Buck in s2 being in a (intense for him) relationship that’s shifted and ended without him knowing/ accepting it and a new guy coming on the scene sparking jealousy before creating a strong bond, and the parallel/juxtaposition of what we’re about to see - new guy sparking jealousy and presenting a threat to his status quo whilst he shares an intense bond with Eddie is a pretty interesting concept - the idea that they may be playing into the beginning of Buck recognising that his relationship with Eddie is changing and different in the same way he slowly figured out Abby had left him - only this time it’s changing in the opposite direction - stronger more unbreakable and allows him to be his true self - well that would be an amazing piece of storytelling in my opinion.

Now obviously alayna and the wardrobe team wouldn’t have known way back in the beginning of s2 that the story was going to head in this direction, but a great designer can make choices that they made in previous seasons work for them in future ones. So to me it feels like this sudden switch back to jeans is deliberate and about tying into the past to move and change things in the present/future. Alayna knows the full arc Buck is on and the fact she’s chosen now to do this when she could’ve done it at any point or not done it at all tells me all I need to know!

Would you like some other things we’ve got going on with this outfit?? I thought you would and I’m here to serve!

We’ve seen Buck in a spotty shirt like this one exactly twice before - 2x14 when he’s at a diner with Maddie talking about Buck finding his own apartment and Maddie going back to hers and going on her second first date with Chim.

Side bar - This is the episode we ‘hear’ of Tommy in the present tense - funnily enough to save Eddie - which in light of Eddie Tommy bestism were about to get is making me chuckle (it’s clever writing and retcon) in technical terms it’s the only reference we have of him as still working for LAFD - all his other appearances are in begins episodes so ‘historical’ rather than in the present!

And then we see a different spotty shirt when he goes to see Chase Mackey in 3x04

There’s also the other dark short sleeved button ups we see him in - not spotty, but striped - the one in 4x14 when Taylor comes back,

The most awkward I love you in the history of television in 5x09 has Buck in dark navy blue with vertical stripes (I don’t have the ref picture handy as I’m on my phone but I’ll come back and add it later 😎🤓)

Then we have 6x10 and the buckley-Han family get together where everyone finds out buck has donated his sperm to Connor and Kameron

All of these scenes are pretty key moments in Bucks arcs and what I find interesting (with the exception of the first one - 2x14 which kind of fits but also doesn’t) is that they are all moments that lead to developmental regression by Buck - under the guise of growth - moments when he thinks he’s moving forward but is in fact either side stepping or going backwards. Suing Bobby and the fire department is obviously the loudest of these moments, but they all fall into this category.

2x14 is perhaps the most interesting and relevant (what with the pattern being almost the same) in reality it’s a scene about Maddie moving forward and getting on with her life - that happens to also include buck getting his own apartment rather than camping out in her dining room. Thing is Maddie talks about going to therapy and putting in the work to feel and find normal in the aftermath of a major traumatic event. In some ways the chase Mackey spotted shirt kind of also falls into this same category - the aftermath of a major (or two) traumatic event for Buck and him trying to get back to his normal (he’s just going about it all wrong)

And here in season 7 we have Buck back in a dark short sleeved spotty shirt in the aftermath of a major traumatic event (Bobby and Athenas Cruise disaster - he couldve lost his dad) trying to get back to normal (something we’ve seen him trying to do for the back half of s6 obviously) and I can’t help but wonder - with Oliver talking about Buck getting off the hamster wheel he’s been stuck on - whatever happens whilst Buck is in this shirt is going to be a major catalyst for him. its going to set him off on his arc for this season and we'll to put in the work his sister did post killing Doug and actually move forward and learn about himself in the process. What that looks like I don’t know but the scene this is from is going to be key to his escape from repeating his past mistakes and actually growing towards his happiness.

The costume department haven’t let me down yet so I’m feeling pretty excited for that scene!

#I’m telling you this scene is the catalyst!!!#mini meta #buck costume meta #kym costume meta #911 stills #911 spoilers #911 abc #evan 'buck' buckley #7x04

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helloheyhihowdyheya · 1 year

Text

Rose Thorn Blues | p. 1

Peter Parker x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: The other Daily Bugle intern has been a thorn in your side all summer. But if you wanted the job, you'd have to work with him. And you'd do anything to get it.

Word count: ~7k

Warnings: Enemies to lovers!! Banter. Criminal activity. Swearing. A bit of angst but not really. J. Jonah Jameson lol.

A/n: I think this'll end up being around 3 parts, but we'll see. This has been tumblin' through my mind since last year, so I'm glad to finally let it out lol. Let me know your thoughts! Thanks for reading <3

You used to enjoy the clear sky on a sunny day, the vibrating blue that stretched until it curved around the horizon. Used to love the way the lapping waves of the Atlantic shimmered for miles, its ripples echoing the sky’s image. The blue of the world before the sun came up, or the indigo quiet of a rainy day.

You even used to love how red the rusted bricks outlining your apartment building looked, tracing the tips of your fingers along them as you walked by, scarlet pebbles breaking off into your palm. The cherry glow of a late-night diner’s “Open” sign made the beats of your heart stutter, its lights reflecting off the glass and illuminating puddles littering the sidewalk. Even with the occasional rose you passed on your way to work, the red petals surrounded by thorns and overgrown weeds, you still leaned your nose in to smell its sweet crimson scent.

But that was before your internship at The Daily Bugle, before you had to write countless stories on Spider-Man all the time, and before you knew Peter, the other intern. Now, every cloudless day or trip to the ocean, hell, even the plump blueberries in the grocery store or a swirling glass of Merlot, an obnoxious red stoplight, or the tiniest cut exposing a drop of blood turned your stomach. You knew people could change you, but you’d never expected to hate the shades of red and blue — until you stared at it every day while standing in Parker’s shadow.

You’d shake your head, shove your fingernails into your palm, blink so hard your vision turned bright just to erase those colors from your mind and him from your thoughts. But you would have no such luck as you weaved your way through New York’s sidewalks under the summer sun, a barely-there breeze passing alongside the traffic. Your hand clutched your phone tight in its grasp.

On it held a photo of Spider-Man you’d just taken earlier that morning. He stopped a robbery, and you captured the moment he’d ripped off a car door to use as cover — a story that J. Jonah Jameson would love to spin into something ridiculous. You had nothing against the superhero, but it was what your boss wanted. The boss that would decide which intern would receive a full-time position at the end of the summer, and you wouldn’t go down without a fight against Parker.

He always had clearer photos and more information on Spider-Man — always seemed to get on the scene before you. You wouldn’t have been that upset if Parker actually was a better reporter than you, but that smug, chronically late asshole certainly wasn’t better than you. Not when you worked twice as hard just to watch him successfully stumble his way through this internship.

And that stupid shrug he gave you when Jameson chose his story over yours! He’d mutter, “Better luck next time,” as if you weren’t covering for his ass half the time. You weren’t sure why you did it anymore. Maybe you didn’t want to watch him get fired since this wasn’t an easy opportunity to get, but you definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and enjoying him get chewed out by Jameson.

But that was unimportant now as you made your way into The Daily Bugle’s building, savoring the air conditioning as your breath tumbled from your mouth. This picture and the eyewitness statements you took would create a story Jameson wouldn’t think twice about choosing, especially when Parker always came in late in the mornings.

Walking through your floor’s doors, photo pulled up on your phone, you quickly dropped your bag at your desk before making your way to pitch the idea to Jameson. You’d mentally written the first half of it on your walk here already.

Your steps faltered though as you neared the office, hearing your boss’s voice echoing through the office.

“Good work, Parker. Finish it by noon, and we’ll publish it today.”

He was already here? Silently, you gritted your teeth, peering into the room. And of course, out walked Parker, one hand holding papers and the other shoved in his pocket.

“The one day you’re on time… I can’t believe this,” you quietly muttered, feeling a weight sink into your stomach. His shoulders hung casually while yours raised up and down with your breaths. His half-smile made you stare daggers into him.

He just raised an eyebrow at you. “Good morning to you too, sunshine. Most people happen to love my presence.”

You silently ignored his nickname for you as you said, “Then most people must be lying to you. What story did you give him?” You pointed your head toward the office, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“So you can go in and try to one-up me?” He scoffed, his eyes annoyingly bright and warm. “No thanks.”

As he made to walk away, you grabbed his arm despite your aversion to being near him. Even the heat of his skin made you too warm, just another reason to stay away from Parker. “I lied to Jameson last week while you were off doing who-knows-what when you should’ve been working. Now what was the goddamn story?”

The sound of other employees talking and making coffee filled the background. If you could just beat him, you’d be part of them one day. So you didn’t let up, waiting for him to answer as he looked between your hand and your eyes. He shook off your touch after a moment.

You watched his jaw tick, his eyes roll to the back of his empty head. “Fine. And because I don’t think I could handle the second-hand embarrassment. I’ll tell you that if your story’s about whatever Spider-Man was up to this morning, you might want to skip telling Jameson.”

The grip on your phone loosened a bit, along with the hope you’d put into this — into trying to prove that you were a good reporter too. But, of course, you were always stuck finding stories on Spider-Man, and too late with them anyway. Anything else wasn’t important news, not at this company.

You tried, and failed, to keep your frustration from your voice as you asked, “And how did you get here before me with that story? You’re literally never here on time and just always have some bullshit idea that’s barely a story.”

Parker just gave a short laugh, smirking at you. “And yet… I still beat you. Kinda stings, huh?”

You gave a grumbled “Piss off” before letting him walk past you this time. You filled up your water bottle, headed to the bathroom, made small talk with some woman you’d immediately forgotten the name of — all distractions so you didn’t have to go back to the desk that sat much too close to Parker, especially while he worked on the story that should’ve been yours.

When you finally returned, you refused to look at a particular person across from you — the two intern desks only separated by a half wall. You just fished out your headphones at the cheap desk with no air conditioning under the city’s hot summer.

A much-needed break from Spider-Man you gave to yourself, you continued working on a story you started researching last week. You’d gathered some statements and data about new unsafe water conditions in certain parts of the city. The story wouldn’t star on the front page of the website, or even the second. Third, if you were lucky.

The morning passed with minimal shouting coming from Jameson’s office and just a few “friendly” follow-up emails with sources you hadn’t heard back from. In the brief moments of silence between the end of one song and the beginning of another, you listened to traffic flowing through the streets below and the droning sounds of keyboards and the printer.

Only once you finished up the first draft of your article and turned to grab your notebook from a drawer did you notice a sticky note plastered on the edge of your desk. In messy handwriting, it said, “You type like a child bangs their fists on a piano” followed by a doodle of the sun, with sunglasses.

It wasn’t difficult to tell whose horrible scribbling this was. So after writing “Eat shit <3” on the back, you crumpled it up. You tossed it right at Parker’s face as you stood up, going to a meeting with one of the full-time writers here. Instead of knowing he caught it like always, you pretended it hit him right in the eye and gave him a papercut.

You didn’t look back as you approached Alice’s desk, the lead writer of the office. Her black curls bounced as she lifted her head, smiling at you. “Ready?”

“Yes, and thank you again for meeting with me,” you said, nodding with your notebook under your arm. She stood up, motioning you toward an empty office for the informational interview — mostly just asking her about her career in hopes it could help yours.

Sitting across from one another, you took notes as she spoke about herself and answered your many questions. Your writing filled one page after another, your wrist becoming sore but ignored under the weight of knowing this information could be important. When you asked what advice she would give to someone just starting out as a reporter, the silence that followed made you finally lift your head.

Alice looked at you with a soft smile while your pen stalled. “I would tell them that it’s not an easy career. And that it’s not for those without passion. You have to want this — and show it. The stories out there you want to tell… you can’t be afraid to search out the truth. ‘Leaving well enough alone’ has never been in my vocabulary.”

Your unfocused stare stayed on her while you processed those words… and the worry that you weren’t cut out for this work. There were stories you wanted to tell, but you couldn’t find the place to tell them. A cynical part of your mind shouted that maybe Parker did deserve the job at the end of this internship more than you.

The thoughts must have been evident on your face because Alice spoke again, her voice calm but stern. “Don’t worry. I see the passion in you. The best advice is to not let Jameson or anyone else stop you. ‘Kay?”

You nodded, unable to stop the smile on your face. So caught up in her words, you wrote down a condensed version of her answer: Follow your heart. Your thumb rubbed over the dried ink of the page, feeling the ridges of each letter. “Thank you, Alice. I’ll keep trying,” you said, and meant it.

She let out a light laugh, the sound loosening the tight muscles in your shoulders. “You better. I’ve been rooting for you to get the job,” she whispered, giving a wink that had you laughing too.

“Well I can’t let you down then, can I?” Letting your smile fall just a little, the curve of it no longer touching your eyes, you silently hoped that you wouldn’t disappoint her. Thanking Alice again, you made your way back to your desk with too many thoughts running through your head.

Slow moments passed as you returned to your chair, the cheap thing squeaking underneath you with each movement. Still, you closed your eyes for a second, just feeling the cushion beneath you, the armrests under your hands, the backrest keeping you from collapsing. A breath filled your lungs, chest rising inch by inch. You would not wait for anyone’s permission to change the world — even if that just meant ignoring your lying thoughts to change your own little world.

Slowly, you went back through your notes, adding bits here and there that you missed while Alice had spoken. At the bottom, you just underlined her final advice… letting the words bleed into your body as you promised to keep them at the center of your stories.

It kept you focused on your article surrounding unsafe water quality in the city. Thankfully, the hours passed quickly, and you got the article up on the site by the end of the day. All with minimal interruptions from Parker — despite another sticky note that said “Thanks for the granola bar ;)” on it. And sure enough, the granola bar you had on your desk was no longer there, but you silently tossed the note in the garbage without letting him know he got to you.

Though, with no snack, your stomach was definitely grumbling as you packed up. So you made the trek to a cafe with your backpack on, one headphone in, and a middle finger aimed toward Parker when he tried talking to you, a smirk plastered on his face that told you he had nothing important or nice to say.

The summer heat hit you as you exited the building, making you strip off your office-appropriate blazer. Still, you didn’t mind the sunlight after spending all day inside. Your music drifted into your ear, the beat of it matching your steps. You turned the volume down once making it into the bakery with the best after-work treat, the pink sign outside painted with cursive words: “Pat’s Pastries.”

Baked bread and sweet chocolate filled your nose, the smell helping you forget about work for a minute. You ordered your favorite cookie, pointing to the biggest one behind the glass. Silently, you ignored the whole tray of Spider-Man themed cookies they’d begun selling after the superhero saved the store from a robbery.

Instead, you just left the shop with a bite of the cookie already in your mouth. It practically melted on your tongue, tasting better than any granola bar Parker could steal from you. The cookie lasted you all the way home, filling you with a pleasant warmth.

In your apartment, you stood in the entryway for a moment. With slow movements, you removed your shoes, setting down all of your things. You’d only been collapsed on your couch for a few minutes before your phone vibrated. Part of you thought to ignore it and let the weight of your heavy eyelids drag you into a nap, but you knew it could be work. A groan came from your throat as you saw that it was work — a comment left on your article already.

People that commented on these pieces often had few nice things to say, so you braced yourself upon opening the site. Your thumb slid across the screen until you reached the bottom. Left by some guest user, the comment simply read: “What’s new? Beaumont fumbles again…”

Beaumont. Ellis Beaumont, the current city manager. He’d certainly faced as much backlash as any other official since he’d taken over five years ago, but you hadn’t considered him all that much when researching for this article. Did he have to do with poor water conditions in the city?

Before you could stop yourself, your hands went to your laptop. Your fingers typed across the keyboard, searching for relations between him and other issues the city faced recently. What came up most often was Beaumont’s press releases after most of them. His salt and pepper hair sat tightly cut to his head, no specks of dust visible on his expensive-looking suits. In each one, he stated how he and his team would work on fixing the problem — from unaffordable housing to upgrading technology throughout the city.

It wasn’t new to see a leader promise to do something and not follow through, but something kept sticking with you while you researched. At some point, between the sun falling behind the city skyline and ordering takeout to be delivered, you found yourself with dozens of open tabs and tired eyes.

Raking a hand down your face, you let out a long sigh. You finished reading another speech where he promised to fix something, crumbling infrastructure this time — “if only we had the funds!” And cue the part where he asked for donations to his nonprofit organization or proposed a government plan that would cost the citizens in tax money. Yet… hadn’t he raised the money? The last you’d checked, the street he’d mentioned repairing still had its potholes and unusable sidewalks.

A knocking on your door brought you to it, your eyes never leaving your computer screen. You just grabbed your food and paid the deliverer with a mumbled “thanks” before walking back to the laptop.

As quickly as you could, you yanked out your notebook from your bag and wrote down everything about Ellis Beaumont — before your food got cold. Your wrist ached again as you flipped the page, continuing to fill the lines with his career, his promises, and his letdowns.

Each of his projects toward bettering the city came with asking for money — money that didn’t show back up in the work. He’d made no updates as to how much he had raised or how he was going to use it. At the end of your notes, you wrote down in heavy ink: “Where is Ellis Beaumont’s money going??”

And even as you ate, trying to watch the comfort show you’d put on, your mind kept working in the background. Had others not also wondered this? Or if they had, did he have them in his pocket already? Sleep fought you that night, making you toss and turn in bed. But you had a story.

–

Walking into The Daily Bugle, you ‘clocked in’ (let Jameson see you in the office) and dropped off your bag. With just your notes, a pen, and a granola bar so no one would steal it, you made your way back out of the building.

Right before you made it from the office, though, a mop of dark hair appeared at the door. A small part of you wanted to somehow hide, the other part unable to resist the draw of him for whatever reason. But Parker chose for you, his eyes lighting up when they caught on your form. Your following scowl was enough to make him laugh.

“There she is, our lovely sunshine,” he said, leaning against the door frame. You ignored the sarcasm dripping through his words.

Instead, you raised your eyebrows and told him, “If Jameson asks, I’m out researching a story. Got it?”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Parker pushed off the frame. His smirk was enough to set you off, but then he held out a hand to block you from passing. Behind your unyielding glare, you secretly hoped he tripped over his untied shoelaces or smashed his hand in the office printer. As he came closer to you, he asked, “Where are you off to? I haven’t seen any sightings of Spider-Man.”

“That’s a shame,” you said, uninterested. Grabbing his forearm, accidentally feeling the hard muscle underneath, you moved it out of your way. “Have fun getting him coffee!” You shouted it over your shoulder, leaving him standing there while you ignored the heat on your palm from touching his skin.

You shook your hand out, waving away the memory as you took the subway over to City Hall. It had to be as good as any place to start researching where the city’s money went after Ellis Beaumont flashed a white smile and pocketed it. He probably wouldn’t talk with you, but anything to get you closer would be worth it.

Emerging from the subway station, your eyes squinted against the brightness. Still morning, the heat hadn’t settled in yet — just leaving you with a sunny walk and a nice breeze.

The building’s intimidating size rose high toward the sky. A statue of justice, a woman holding scales and a sword, stood atop City Hall — staring down at each person as you entered the front doors. The ornate architecture and grand staircase inside didn’t help settle the daunting feeling crawling in your stomach.

Still, you walked up to the man sitting behind the front desk there, trying to look as friendly as possible. Smoothing out your outfit and putting a smile on, you said, “Hi.”

He looked up with a classic customer service grin to greet you. “Hello, how can I help you?” he asked, leaning toward you slightly.

You kept your shoulders back, mustering some sort of confidence in your investigation. How would Alice do this?

With a clear voice, you directly asked, “If I was looking for records of donations for a government-related nonprofit, would they be here? I couldn’t seem to find them online.” You gave him an unassuming look.

“Typically, but what nonprofit were you looking at?” he asked, typing something into his computer. You took out your notebook low enough that he couldn’t see past the desk.

Pretending to rack your brain for the name, you said, “I think it’s called Stronger Together. I love being able to see where my donation goes — it helps make me feel closer to the community, you know?”

Your hand ready to write fell limp when his mouth pressed tight, his eyes leaving the screen to meet yours. “Ah,” he said, “Well Mr. Beaumont is not always able to update that information, as he has many responsibilities to maintain.”

“Of course, I understand. Though, I also noticed that the recent infrastructure project has yet to be enacted. Is there an update on that?” You willed your voice to stay steady, to be unwavering under the impatient gaze of this man.

A muscle seemed to twitch in his jaw. “I don’t believe the organization has given one, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t been working on it. He is a very busy man.”

“Busy enough that I wouldn’t be able to speak with him directly?”

“I’m afraid not,” he said, shaking his head, but he didn’t seem too sorry at all. “We could take your number for him to call you when he’s available, but…”

“He’s very busy,” you finished, giving a smile as you bit back a pained sigh. “That’ll be okay, I’m happy to have helped the cause.”

“Yes, and we’re very thankful for your donation.” The tight grin he gave looked like it hurt his cheeks to make.

“Well, thank you for the information,” you said. Just as you were about to leave, beginning to leave with nothing to show for the story, you turned back. “I know this is quite specific, but would you know what Mr. Beaumont’s next project is?”

Another flicker of impatience flashed across the man’s face, his hands clasping together. “No, I wouldn’t, but I’m sure it will be a great help to the city whatever it is. I think there may be a nonprofit fundraiser this weekend… but those are typically closed events — for investors and friends,” he said, his smile turning less warm by the minute. “You can donate online anytime.”

“Great, thank you,” you muttered before turning around, frantically jotting the little information you received down in your notes while walking away. You swore you could feel the man’s eyes on you until you slipped out the doors.

The entire ride back to the office, this story ate away at you. Everyone seemed to be keeping information on Beaumont’s money close to their chests, even about what his supposed nonprofit was really doing.

‘Stronger Together.’ You rolled your eyes, beginning to feel like he was the only one getting stronger. And he was having another fundraiser so soon? Probably for something like conservation this time — his team would likely make a whole show of planting a couple trees and get praised for it.

As soon as you got back to The Daily Bugle, you ignored everything as you dropped into your chair and opened your computer. Your fingers flew over the keyboard to type up the notes, both for decoding your scribbled words and ensuring you kept the information in multiple places. You tried tuning out the background chatter and the gnawing worry that this whole story would lead to a dead end, but you couldn’t ignore everything…

“Whatcha typin’ there?” Parker said as he swiveled his chair around the desks to look at you. Glancing for a moment at him, you saw the shit-eating smile pointed your way.

Your face flashed a fake grin. “Your resignation letter, Parker.” You continued typing, not responding to his quiet scoff. But then he stood up, his steps gentle against the floor. He towered over you as he came around to look at your screen.

Before he could even reach your desk, you switched tabs to a blank page. Without glancing up at him, you silently waited for him to stop watching you. It worked well enough at first, your mind happily turning blank instead of entertaining him.

But he put his hand on the edge of your desk, his body now much too close to yours. The warm scent of him washing over you had your skin prickling, your fingernails pressing into your palm.

Barely heard above the blood rushing past your ears, his voice came out quieter than you’d expected. “So secretive. You won’t even share with me?”

Ignoring the glint of smugness on his face, you turned to look up at him. “So you can try to one-up me? No thanks,” you repeated, using his words from yesterday.

“But given my track record for front-page stories, I’m sure you could definitely use my help.” Parker shoved a hand in his pocket, winking at you with those stupid dark eyes. In that moment, you wondered whether you could somehow frame him for helping Spider-Man and get Jameson to tackle him.

So caught up in that happy fantasy, you didn’t catch Parker’s other hand creeping across the desk until he’d already snatched your notebook. And before you could even stand to grab it back, his leg came up and pushed on one of your desk chair’s armrests, sending it spinning.

While your legs tried stopping the chair, you heard him say, “How are you even able to read this? Okay, I won’t tell Jameson, but you’ve gotta be honest with me: do you know how to write? Or read, for that matter.”

“I was walking while taking notes– whatever, Parker. I don’t need to explain myself to your dumbass,” you whisper yelled at him, stalking over to his side of the desks. But he moved the notebook away, cocking his head to the side.

With a grin that told you just how much fun he was having, he said, “Huh, I didn’t know your pretty little head knew how to multi-task.”

You opened your mouth for a second, processing that he called you pretty, before rolling your eyes. “Must be hard to imagine anything with your smooth brain. Now give me my notebook back.”

In the background, you heard Jameson screaming to some poor soul on the phone. You hoped it at least covered up your bickering with Parker. But it wouldn’t be able to drown out the sound of you strangling him, which you were now seriously considering as he held up a finger to you.

In a calmer voice, he asked, “Are you really doing a piece on Ellis Beaumont?”

Scoffing, you reached over and grabbed your notebook from his grasp. He didn’t seem to put up much of a fight, hopefully mentally perceiving the threats running through your mind. As you returned to your desk, you glanced once more at him — and got caught on something in the look he gave you.

“Yes,” you told him before sitting down, leaving Parker and any distractions on that side of the half-wall. The last thing you heard was a sigh before you put your headphones in.

For the rest of the day, you finished writing up your notes and your other assigned work. In between projects, you secretly continued researching everything you could about Beaumont and where those donations went. Site after site returned empty, most of them just filled with propaganda for his non-profit.

With weary eyes and a fuzzy mind, you finally found something as everyone in the office began to finish up. You wiped a hand down your face, a weight lifting from your shoulders when you discovered an address.

Searching through countless websites, some of which you probably shouldn’t have been using your work computer for, you combed through records of donations to Stronger Together. Most listed City Hall or Beaumont’s address in their donation. But one other address continued popping up more than a few times — somewhere in upper Manhattan, far from where the organization would operate from.

If you were listening to Alice’s advice to follow your heart, you would’ve stayed home. Your pounding pulse yelled at you that going to check out this address after sunset was the worst idea you’d ever had.

On your walk home and all through dinner, you pushed back against the trickling fear down your spine — caused by the ice-cold voice in the corners of your mind filled with every worst-case scenario. It only grew louder as you neared the address.

You hadn’t done much field work before, or any that hadn’t just involved taking blurry pictures of Spider-Man and making New Yorkers talk to you. As you walked along the sidewalk with your shoes tapping against the cracked concrete, following the directions on your phone, you wondered whether you were cut out for this. You kept your head on a swivel and senses alert, but did you have any clue what you were going to do once you reached the building? No, not really.

You had come after dark, so breaking in certainly didn’t seem out of the question. And as much as you disliked thinking about him, knowing that Parker wouldn’t back away from this if he were here kept your legs moving.

Before long, with a warm breeze at your back, you came up to a large warehouse. It sat in a pretty empty area — one with few people around that you could see. A few street lamps illuminated the space around it, the light stretching down a small alleyway next to the building. Craning your neck, you began walking down it, seeing whether you could peer in anywhere.

Your fingers brushed along the building’s side as you passed by several dark windows. Unable to spot anything through them, you crept toward the back. No workers, or anyone really, seemed to be there. Nothing except for a metal fire escape. It seemed to lead up to a door with more windows lining either side. Fluorescent lighting shone from inside.

Swallowing hard, you forced your body to walk toward it. Each step you took up went slowly, trying to keep your feet silent as you climbed the stairs. Under the weight of the stars and night sky, even with the sounds of traffic passing by, each breath felt too loud.

Silently wishing to anyone that’d listen, you hoped no one stood on the other side as you slowly looked in. But you only found boxes — not all that surprising, but disappointment mingled with the relief coursing through your muscles.

Hundreds of boxes sat throughout the warehouse, lining countless shelves. You made a guess that they probably weren’t storing any tools for fixing the infrastructure like Beaumont promised. But you wouldn’t be able to find out what they held without breaking in, something you didn’t think your nerves could take.

Though… someone else could show you what’s inside.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a brief movement along the floor of the building. Someone moved into view, dressed in a black uniform and holding a clipboard in their hands. They walked to a shelf you could just barely see and opened up one of the boxes. They set the clipboard aside to pull out something… long and metal. At the end appeared to be a claw of some sort–

Internally, you winced, instantly able to recognize it from all your articles. It was one of Doc Ock’s arms. The other side was full of fraying wires, no doubt ripped apart from a fight with Spider-Man. God, why did everything always have to come back to Spider-Man?

And, in that moment, you must’ve pissed off some god of fate to deserve this irony. As you were about to pull out your phone to capture the evidence, your thought alone summoned the man. A web attached to the worker, the other end coming from the red and blue superhero crouched on a support beam. Within a second, he pulled them up to the ceiling and cocooned them in webbing to dangle there — the scene forcing an involuntary gasp escape your lips.

Spider-Man had jumped down with supernatural grace and looked like he was going to investigate the box further, but whipped his head toward you at your gasp. Your heart crawled into your throat, your hand snapping up to cover your mouth.

Racing down the fire escape, your scrambled thoughts tumbling around your head, you hurried back to the street away from what you’d witnessed. But before you could leave the alleyway, a flash of those dreaded shades of red and blue dropped down in front of you — your feet stumbling backward as you barely kept a startled scream from coming out.

“Hey, hey. Not here to hurt you. I do the opposite actually,” Spider-Man said, his hands up to show you he meant no harm. His voice sounded unnaturally deep, but blood rushed past your ears, clouding your senses. You shook your head slightly, trying to focus on getting out of there.

“But uh…” he continued, cautiously taking a single step closer, “I don’t think you live at this address. Is that right?”

You absentmindedly chewed on the inside of your cheek, debating on how much to tell him. He’d caught you sneaking around, but was that technically even a crime? Most likely. But clearly, you both were after some pretty similar things. So, while nodding your head toward the warehouse, you quietly asked, “What’s in there?”

His head tilted to the side as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Some no-no things. Which is probably why I should handle it, right?”

“Handle it how? By handing it over to the police?” you asked, a small jolt of panic rising in your chest. “What if it connects to something larger?” Your questions assumed that he didn’t exactly know where this warehouse came from and how it connected to Beaumont, but maybe not. Still, you couldn’t risk cutting this whole thing off early and breaking the investigation apart… and the story.

“Does it connect to something larger?” he asked, his gaze never seeming to leave you. You couldn’t tell much behind his mask, but the weight of those white eyes stayed focused on your face. They watched every microexpression crossing your face, despite the urge to hide from them.

Knowing you needed him on your side, or at least to not cover you in webs, you gave him a little more. Nodding, you said “Yeah, I think it does. I’m not sure how it all fits, but…”

“But?”

Pursing your lips, you let a breath pass before answering him. Jameson would kill you if he knew you were having this whole conversation without taking ‘photographic evidence’ and helping out Spider-Man. But that man was a prick anyway.

Letting out a long sigh, you said, “Check out Ellis Beaumont’s non-profit. I don’t think the donations are going where he says they are.”

He just cocked his head, but you moved around him, ready to leave this place and those watchful eyes. Your gaze avoided his as he let you pass toward the street, though he yelled out, “Do you need me to walk you home?” You just waved him off, your pace picking up. Still, he shouted a “Thank you!” for the information as you made the journey back to your apartment.

Unable to calm your body back to normal just yet, you found yourself jumping at every noise around you until your apartment door locked behind you. What you’d seen ran through your head again and again.

What did Beaumont want with Spider-Man? Or was he working with the villains to get rid of Spider-Man? His money couldn’t just be going toward costume dress-up storage, but breaking into that warehouse alone was out of the question for you. Leave it to the superhero rather than risk your neck.

Your brain racked itself for answers, working to figure out what interest Spider-Man had in showing up at that warehouse anyway. Even into the next morning, these thoughts plagued your mind. It left you in a haze as you entered The Daily Bugle — the noise of the coffee machine and Jameson’s muffled yelling more distracting than usual.

Even more offputting was that sat at your desks was Parker, the second time he’d ever beaten you into the office. Immediately, his eyes found yours, but you didn’t have the energy to give him a sneer or a smart-ass comment. You just started up your computer, planning to type up your notes again. Your hand rubbed down your face as you waited for it to turn on, already anticipating the inevitable interruption.

Sure enough, Parker stuck his head over the half-wall, leaning his forearms along the top of it. His chin rested on them as he said, “You look rough.”

Without raising your eyes to him, you let out a long sigh. “Wow… Thanks,” you said, letting an unimpressed look take over your face. You opened your notebook, turning to the pages where you wrote every piece of information you could remember after the events last night.

Parker raised his hands up in surrender, as if he hadn’t insulted your appearance. “Jus’ saying, you seem a bit stressed. Need any help, sunshine?”

At that, you finally raised your gaze to meet his — his ruffled hair dipping over his forehead while waiting for your response.

You squinted your eyes at him, your eyebrows furrowing at his words. “...I’m not letting you take this story from me, Parker.”

“Hey, I could merely co-author this story with you,” he offered with that smirk of his. “And I’m sick of writing about Spider-Man’s favorite restaurants to order from. C’mon.” He dragged out the word, practically begging you.

Crossing your arms across your chest, you considered him for a moment and his offer. His mouth tightened, drawing your gaze down to his lips and the sharpness of his jaw. Not the time.

“You really want to help me?” When he nodded, you still didn’t believe him. With a scoff, you asked, “Are you going soft on me?”

A sharp laugh escaped his mouth. “Don’t get used to it. This would cost you a week’s worth of granola bars.”

“Aren’t you the one asking to join?” you questioned with a smile you couldn’t hide. When he didn’t budge despite his ridiculous demand, you just muttered, “I’ll think about it.”

The long groan he gave as he sat back down told you how he felt about your answer, but it was easier to ignore now that he wasn’t staring at you. Why he was so interested in this story made no sense to you — not that you thought about it long as you finally typed up your notes.

Instead, you tried to figure out where to go next, where this warehouse might lead you. But a growing fear told you that it wouldn’t lead anywhere, your research online not giving you someone to question or even contact information for Beaumont. This politician seemed to keep things annoyingly tight under wraps.

As minutes slipped away while you ran into dead end after dead end in your searching, you internally debated whether to accept Parker’s help. Waves crashed in your stomach, the tide receding far away as if in anticipation of a tsunami — one threatening to destroy you. Letting him in meant risking your story, and risking the chance that he could get all the credit for your work.

As much as you hated the idea of sharing this with him, part of you thought you might’ve been in over your head. Especially after the run-in last night. And Parker certainly knew his stuff… sometimes. Not that you’d tell him that.

It was only once your search about Beaumont and that warehouse frustratingly turned up blank once more that you let out a sigh. It seemed it’d be a story with him or no story at all.

“Parker?” you called across the desks.

The sound of his chair shifting joined his raspy, “Yeah?” You bit back a grin as you realized you’d woken him up from one of his frequent work naps. When he swiveled into view, the red spot on his cheek from where he must’ve laid it on his arms confirmed your suspicions.

Still, you had to clear your tight throat before telling him, “You can help. But only if my name goes first, got it?” Before he could respond, you followed with, “And I take the lead on things, okay?” Your stare pierced his eyes, silently begging him to not take this from you.

The small laugh he gave loosened your tense shoulders just a bit, made your fists unclench. “Whatever you say goes…” he said, nodding with the most honest look you’d seen from him. “With some exceptions though. Cause you have a lot of bad ideas I’d like to veto.”

You wondered whether asking for Peter Parker’s help was one of those terrible, idiotic ideas. You hoped not.

@reidslovely

#peter parker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker enemies to lovers #andrew garfield #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter #tasm peter parker #tasm spiderman #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #spider-man x reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 6 months

Text

Reminder [Tim Rockford x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Merge Mansion ad (can't fucking believe this...)

Pairing: Detective Tim Rockford x you/cishet f!reader

Tags/Warnings: reader wears sexy lingerie but no description of body type, blowjob, deepthroating, workplace sex.

Summary: Tim Rockford works too hard, and too late. You have to remind him of what's waiting for him at home.

Words: 2,165

A/N: Y'all I am adding a new character to my menagerie of Pascal men! Dunno if I get Tim Rockford but I've been thinking about sucking his dick since I first saw him. He just has that vibe about him. Enjoy.

He is sitting astride a chair in front of a huge notice board filled with photos, notes, clippings, clues pinned to it, connected by red twine. The white shirt is straining to reach across his broad upper body. You remember a time when it had the shape of a V, now it's more of a U before connecting with the still narrow hips and flat ass.

You nod a thanks to the officer who let you in, and when he closes the door behind him, you lock it.

"Detective," you quip teasingly, but there's no response except a neck roll. He sighs deeply as he rubs his neck.

He's been working around the clock on this case. You avoid looking at the notice board, the pictures of bloody crime scenes, as you walk up to the chair.

"Tim," you speak softly, your hand landing on his shoulder. Tim twitches and looks up at you. It takes him a moment to recalibrate his brain to reality.

"What are you doing here? It must be like ten o'clock."

"It's past midnight, actually," you correct him with a wry little smile. He sighs again and takes your hand away from his shoulder, bringing it to his lips for a kiss.

"I'm sorry, my love, I'm gonna pull an all-nighter again."

You grunt. He knows what it means. You've been over this before.

He rises from the chair, moves it away before turning to you. He smells of stress and determination: smells that you know well. He's always like this when he's working a case. You don't like it, but you've grown to accept it.

He pulls you in for a hug, so fast that you almost stumble into him. His broad chest, the soft stomach with the buttons ready to pop. He refuses to go up a size for some reason. The shoulder holster, the gun at his side. Your hand slides away from it, not wanting anything to do with it, only wanting your soft man.

"I'll come home in the morning for a shower," he promises in a low whisper against your hair. "Have breakfast with you."

"No, you won't," you calmly point out. "You'll get terrible coffee and a bagel from the diner around the corner, and your stomach will be a mess by the time this case is solved."

Tim chuckles a little at that before seeking out your lips. He tastes of stale coffee, and sweet and sour pork; the flavors of a murder case unsolved.

"Go home, get some sleep," he tells you gently. "I'll call when I leave."

"Aren't you wondering what I'm doing here, at this hour?"

He blinks, like he's only now realizing what time it is, and that you're actually here.

"Is everything okay?" His hands come to your cheeks, and he searches your face. You cover his hands with yours, lowering them as you smile reassuringly.

"I'm good, Tim, nothing's wrong. But I knew you'd be working all night, and I wanted to bring you something."

His brows draw together when he waits for you to elaborate. You untie the belt around your waist, and button open your trench coat. His nostrils flare and his eyes widen when you reveal yourself to him.

You're only wearing a bra, lace panties, and stockings underneath. It's cheesy, but he likes it.

"I came to make sure you were okay," you purr, smiling at how he swallows hard, his glassy stare.

"Baby..."

"Just let me give this to you."

You undo his belt, knuckles brushing against the soft fat of his tummy. Tim exhales in a low sigh when the belt releases its hold of him. With heavy-lidded eyes, he gazes adoringly at you as you unzip his pants. Softly, he trails his hands along your sides, goosebumps rising in the wake of his touch. Your nipples knit, and his gaze drop to the stiff pebbles showing through the lace fabric of the bra.

"You're too good to me, baby," he sighs, and then his eyes fall shut as you slide your hand inside his pants. "Oh."

You cup his still soft cock through the underwear, stroke in carefully as you lean in to kiss him. His lips betray a hurry that's he's loath to rein in, but when his tongue tries to pry in between your lips, you pull away with a smile. Tim doesn't smile back, but stares at you with a drunkenness in his eyes, mouth open and begging to be kissed again. You lean back in and nibble at his full lower lip, cup his cheek with your free hand, and stroke your thumb over his mustache. His cock hardens against your other palm, and you encourage it with a firmer touch.

"Tease," he groans, hands landing on your hips, fingers playing with the waistband of your panties. A shiver runs through you.

"Takes one to know one."

You press your lips to his anew, and now your hand slips in under the worn elastic of the waistband. His cock jumps at the direct contact and your feel a patch of wet rub off on your hand. Your fingers close loosely around his cock, thumb smearing out the precum as your tongue plunges into his mouth for a hungry kiss. Tim's strong arms wrap around you, the smell of his sweaty pits hitting your nose but not in a repulsive way, instead you feel the crotch of your panties get wet, and your kiss turns more insistent. You suck his lower lip between your teeth, pull it out, and release it with a pop. Still holding his cock, you step back, pulling him gently but firmly to make him follow you. And Tim follows, hands reaching all over you, eyes burning with desire, lips swollen with kisses. You direct him to his desk and pull down his pants and underwear before giving him a little push to make him sit down. His cock is now as stiff as it can be, and you separate his legs, keeping eye contact as you kneel between his thighs.

"Oh, baby..." he sighs, surrendering to you with a pleading look on his face. "Baby, you're so good to me..."

"You deserve it," you purr as you nuzzle his cock, kissing its length, flicking your tongue at it. "You work so hard, you deserve to relax a little."

He moans again when you hand closes around the thick root of his cock. You trail your tongue up his length, ending with a soft swirl around the head, the glistening precum bringing a sharp taste to your mouth.

A few night shift officers pass by the door, but apart from that you can only hear the drone of the air conditioning, and Tim's heavy breathing which turns into an audible gasp bordering on a moan when you open your mouth and take his cock into your mouth. He breathes your name, looks down on you as you smile up at him, his cock in your mouth, one of your hands wrapped around the root, the other cupping his balls. He draws his fingers through his hair before dropping both hands to your head, petting it softly as you pop his cock out of your mouth and proceed to licking and stroking it. The low lights are casting shadows over Tim's face, but you can see his eyes, half closed and staring down at you in complete surrender. You squeeze the root of his balls firmly and are rewarded with a sharp hiss as Tim draws in breath.

"Sweet baby..."

Your cunt is heavy and warm, and your arousal starts to drip into your panties. The mossy, heavy scent rises to tickle your nose through the musk of your man, and you moan low as you suck the head of his cock before flicking your tongue at the frenulum.

"Fuck, oh God..."

Second that. You enjoy sucking his dick, always have. The different textures, the scent, the way it makes him twitch and curse and finally beg you. The sloppiness of it when you drool, the rush of adrenaline when you manage to take all of him, the tip bumping down your throat, Tim losing it when you massage his balls while letting him fuck your throat.

You draw a deep breath and swallow all of him, balls deep. Your lips shielding your teeth from grazing him, you immediately start to salivate, the pressure against your throat almost too much. You will yourself to calm down, to breathe through your nose as you know you can, and start to fuck him with your mouth. Your eyes fill with tears, and when you look up Tim, he brings a trembling hand to wipe away the first one that falls. You pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock, and lean into his palm cupping your cheek.

"Don't hurt yourself, sweetness," he mumbles hoarsely. "You're doing so good."

"I can do it," you promise him.

"I know you can."

You devour him again, tongue pressing flat against the veiny underside of his cock, your eyes falling shut as you focus on the act, on breathing, on controlling your gag reflex. Tim's breaths come in choked groans above you, his fingers tangle into your hair, petting and gently pulling while he showers you with gratitude and praise. The cold linoleum floor is hard on your knees, but you don't let that hold you back as you do your best to blow Tim’s mind. The taste of cum grows stronger, and you press your fingers against his taint while still fondling his balls. That's his undoing: his balls twitch and you feel the length of his cock pulsate as he shoots his cum down your throat. You almost choke, so you pull back, coughing as the last of his cum splatters your chin and chest. He crouches in front of you, wobbles like his legs don't carry him, panting like he just ran a marathon, but still searches your face as you fight to find your breath through the coughing.

"I'm good, I'm good," you wheeze, but Tim doesn't stop his scrutiny of you until you've found your breath.

"Okay?"

"Okay," you nod, smiling breathlessly. He smiles back then, and heaves a big sigh.

"Goddammit, woman..."

"What?" You bat your eyelashes innocently.

"Look at the state of you. A pornographic mess."

He wipes his thumb over your slick chin and closes his eye with a deep exhale when you grab his hand and bring the thumb to your mouth, sucking hard.

"You'll be the death of me."

"What a way to go, huh?"

His chestnut eyes are warm when he opens them anew.

"I'd prefer to live for as long as I can, as long as you're in my life."

"I'm here," you reassure him, your hand coming up to his cheek, which has not seen a razor in days. He leans in for a kiss, licks at your lips and into your mouth where you share his taste with him.

He finally helps you up and tuck himself in before grabbing a couple of tissues for you from his desk. You wipe yourself clean, but when you're about to wrap the coat around you again, Tim stops you.

"What about you?" His eyes are like molten chocolate when he slides his hand inside your coat and brings you snug against him.

"What about me?"

"You're so wet I can see it through your trench coat, honey."

You chuckle. You should have known.

"Sweetheart," you tell him, languidly wrapping your arms around his neck. "If you wish to pleasure me, you have to come home."

"Oh, so only you can do dirty things to me in my place of work?" he grins, hands sliding down to your ass cheeks, barely covered by the lace.

"That's right, detective." You kiss the tip of his nose. "Gotta have something to bring you home."

"I do have that," he replies softly, touching his lips to your forehead. "I'll come home in the morning, I promise."

Before you can answer, there is a hard bang on the door, followed by a call:

"Rockford, we brought in your suspect!"

His countenance changes: his eyes turn sharp, his lips austere, his shoulders squared. He is no longer your Tim; now he's Detective Rockford.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go - "

" - and you won't be home for breakfast," you finish his sentence with a practical shrug as you straighten out his tie for him. "I know. Go do your thing."

He dips his face down to kiss you.

"I'll be home," he renews his promise. "And I'll bring bread rolls from that place you like."

You smile against his lips, his warmth spreading through your body, your cunt bottoming out at the thought of a slow morning with him.

"I'll hold you to that, Tim."

He brushes his lips over your cheek, his breath warm when he whispers:

"Keep that underwear on."

#tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford fanfic #merge mansion fanfic #my fic

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captain-lessship · 1 year

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Phase One-Seven with 2D, Russel and Murdoc

Note: For 2D and Russel, the reader in gender Neutral (pan and bi kings) and for Murdoc, it’s fem reader (I am sorry but I can’t see him dating a man imo but you can simply read over the gendered head cannon if you want <3)

Phase One 2D-

You were a waitress at the diner where Gorillaz always got breakfast and he was smitten with you almost instantly and always tried to look his best when they went there, leading Murdoc to make fun of him for “preening like a lanky rooster”

Is a little shy and still shocked you even agreed to go on a date with him in the first place ( Having your eyes knocked in by a bastard bass player who shouldn’t be allowed to ever drive might put a damper on your dating scene)

Has a small amount of trust issues but slowly and steadily, he opened his heavily romantic side to you.

His love language is words of affirmation. He compliments you a lot and genuinely means each and everyone.

Is a classic man when it comes to pet names but when he gets drunk and such, he breaks out a special one: Painkiller. (Must be heavily intoxicated and has only happened once. He later yelled “Swiper, No Swiping” at a picture of a fix while walking home later that night)

Speaking of painkillers, you make sure he never takes too many at once and he won’t argue with you about it.

Phase Seven 2D

Twenty one years later and still going strong.

Has gotten to the point where he can’t sleep unless he’s beside you.

He just feels so loved and protected by you.

Although he still sings your praises, he’s developed a taste for gifts he’ll know you will like.

Has kept mementos from every one of your dates: movie ticket stubs, Photo Booth slips, receipts from dinners, little souvenirs from trips and key cards from hotels. They are stored in a converse box. He had made it his mission to protect it because it is essentially a time line of nearly a quarter of a century spent with you.

When he took you to Hollywood, you and him had a great time. Until you realized that you’re loving boyfriend was about to get sacrificed. That really killed the vibe of the getaway.

Phase One Russel-

You were the instrument repair person and he often stared at you while you were fixing his drum set.

He asked you to watch a movie and the rest is history.

You both shit talk Murdoc in the privacy of your rooms.

You two pretty much keep everyone else alive. (Which means you cut the crust off 2D’s and Noodles sandwich and don’t let Murdoc suffocate in his own smell while lounging in the Winnebago)

One time you and him went on a weekend get away and came back to a kitchen with a scorched ceiling, a broken water pipe and one less Murdoc eye brow.

He is definitely a Quality time guy.

You and him have a ritual where you make your breakfast and sit in complete silence.

At the start of the relationship, you thought the silence was his way of showing irritation but really it was the opposite.

You’ve come to love the lack of words but surplus of radiating love from him.

Phase Seven Russel-

The relationship has gotten tough as of late due to his new hobby: staring at TV Static.

You get into arguments about it when he finally looks away

You are trying your best to kept it together

You still spend a lot of time with him but you hate the feeling that you need to compete with fabled answers in blurring white, gray and black.

After the events of the cult incident , he slowly started to return to normal, much to your joy.

Slowly but surely, your relationship got back on track.

Phase One Murdoc-

Heard you doing spoken word one night at a “weird hipster whacko bar” (his exact words) he was scoping out to potentially rob and thought you’d be a great song writer

Talked to you about it, caught feelings after a month or so

attempted to kidnap you but you dropped a piano out the window on his head.

Just kidding.

It was a keyboard.

After a week of shame and plotting, he did what only Murdoc could do: Try again.

You escaped being kidnapped once again but at this point, you had kinda gotten a crush on him. So you moved into his ‘house’ of Kong Studios to work on the song writing process with his magnum opus of a band called Gorillaz.

You became a hit with all the band members. 2D because you kept Murdoc from hitting him, Russel because you were great to talk to and cook with and Noodle because she was happy to have another girl around, even if you were a good twenty years older than her.

You and Murdoc are a surprisingly easy going and comfortable couple. Everyone has their quirks and it just so happens that yours doesn’t irk him and his doesn’t irk you.

Sure there’s things you don’t like about him (the abuse of the singer, the kidnapping/ attempted kidnapping of people, Attempted Murder, Drug Possession, Driving Law Violations.) but you love him anyway.

Life has not been kind to Murdoc, which doesn’t give him an excuse but it gives an element of understanding.

He is trying to change for you. He’s trying to be calmer, a tad nicer and more pleasant to be around and the effort is all you ever asked for.

Alright happy time people, happy time.

Is very affectionate in the comfort of his home.

Prone to just laying a random one of his limbs on you while sitting down.

You have matching upside down cross necklaces.

Is a physical touch kind of guy, but on his own terms.

No very romantic in the regular but when he tries? Yup.. Mr. Darcy Material (Pride and Prejudice is the only movie that he doesn’t fall asleep during)

Phase Seven Murdoc-

Welp… When your lover of twenty one years starts a cult to take a demon to bed, there’s only so much you can forgive.

This caused a rift and you are very angry with him at the moment.

But then, you got called to the hospital (You are 2Ds and Noodles Emergency contact)

Of course you showed up.

What you then saw was the tipping point.

You and Murdoc are currently on a break. (Will resume after detailed apology and if you decide to do so.)

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xbalayage · 4 months

Text

A Hidden Feeling

Silvio/Reader

WC: 1,055

A/N: This is my gift for @violettduchess for @ikemenlibrary's gift exchange! I haven't been much into the fandom anymore and I apologize for that! But thank you Bryn for hosting such a fun exchange that I got to be a part of and even though I haven't written Silvio in a while, I hope this turned out okay! ❤️

You didn't expect a man on the streets of Rhodolite to pay you any mind, let alone a whole prince from another country. Now, he's offering you what he considers a “once in a lifetime” deal to be in a fake relationship with him. The circumstances were that his father was getting sick of him and needed him to find a suitable wife and produce an heir, but the woman chosen was… not at all his type. Just the same kind of woman he'd toy around with for fun and that was it. Definitely not one he'd even consider himself marrying!

“Look, we both get somethin’ out of this. Ya get my old man off my back and you get a chance to be with me.”

By his logic, it seemed only he was benefiting from this. But even through his brash behavior, you couldn't help having a massive crush on him for the longest time now, completely enamored by the man portrayed in his books about his adventures.

You both sat as a cozy little tea/diner place in Rhodolite for him to unleash his idea on you, stealing you away from both Rio and the other princes to try and convince you of this crazy scheme of his. And, you'd hate to admit it, but after sipping the delicious tea the establishment had to offer, you gave him a smile. "Sure, I can do that for you.”

The look on his face was priceless. He expected a smart comment, a sneer, your usual back talk but ... you actually agreed? If only you could take a picture to frame and hang it on your wall, you'd hate to forget the expression of complete dumbfoundedness.

" ... What's the catch? Why'd you go and just agree so easily? That's not like ya.”

Of course, he'd be confused. But you couldn't help the easy, amused chuckle that escaped, his face reddening in embarrassment. It's cute that he thought he had you pegged.

"Simple! I choose all we do today and you have to comply! Easy enough, right?" He'd shoot an uneasy glare your way but forfeit any argument. Time was of the essence and he didn't have time to try and find another noblewoman to take your place.

The day started in the gardens; the sweet floura wafted the surrounding air with its springtime presence, the sun beaming down on them like a warm hug to welcome them. They sat quietly on a bench as the breeze tickled their hair, swaying in a dance upon the wind. Some flower petals were spared from their buds to drift silently past. The simpleness helped relax your mind as you lul your eyes closed to absorb it all in. Silvio laid casually with his arm behind the bench behind you, not truly understanding the silent take of the beginning of the date but couldn't help himself to stare at you and your beauty as you sat picturesque amongst the scene before him.

That's when ... you first started to catch his eye. Granted, he's always had an eye on you from afar. From the way you held yourself to how you spoke to other people, always baring your heart on your sleeve for the world to see. How could you be so brazen and careless to show your weakest point? He didn't understand it. But, it piqued his curiosity about you. His sea ridden glaze stayed on you for the longest ... until your eyes fluttered open did he make sure his stare turned away.

Your smile was brighter than the sun on the coldest days. The nervous chuckle you expressed was like the melody to his favorite song. Your touch upon his hand to lead him away to your next location sent shivers of goosebumps along his skin and your eyes, those hinted of warm chocolate ravaged his heart unhealthy.

What ... exactly was this feeling? What was wrong with him? For now, he bottled it down.

You tugged him along to the vendor stands in town, elated to show him every little incentive Rhodolite had to offer from their foods down to the littlest of trinkets. He ... smiled at your childlike excitement for your hometown and all it had to offer. Once the distraction was over, you turned to him and noticed that handsome smile and thought, "why doesn't he smile like that more?”

Surprisingly, he held your gaze for but a moment with that smile before he realized what he'd been doing, quickly turning away with a tint of red dusted on his cheeks. He brushed the expression off to claim some excuse but you didn't mind at all. It ... seemed like he was enjoying himself.

As the day trinkled to sunset and the sky had painted itself into hues of pink and orange, the last spot you had in mind was to get into a small boat and relax on the waters; on some occasions, Rhodolite would shoot fireworks at night during some celebrations and luckily, they were going off tonight. You thought it would be a perfect end to an adventurous day.

He didn't deny the idea and continued to observe you quietly through your energetic rambles and explanations, finding himself more relaxed with you and a smile always tugging at the edge of his lips. It was then he knew as the sparkle in your eyes looked to him once more, something he'd been keeping in his heart and denying a possibility of happening, that he had ... feelings or even, love for you.

Eyes stared at one another in silence as the moments passed, neither of you daring to look away. You both felt it, huh? That warm feeling in your stomachs as your hearts raced. Silvio went on a whim and reacted. His hand carefully reached to cup your face with both of his hands, looking again into your eyes for approval before he swallowed his pride and leaned in, allowing his lips to collide with yours.

In that moment, the sounds and colors of fireworks sketched themselves across the skies, falling like fireflies around you. The kiss lasted like a lifetime, like hearts had mended into one. No words were exchanged, lips never parted and hearts never stopped racing. That's when he knew, without a doubt.

He was in love with you and everything you were.

#violettduchess #ikemenlibrary #silvio #ikepri silvio #ikemen prince silvio #silvio ricci #ikemen prince #ikepri #my fics.

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christinesficrecs · 8 months

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Lost fics. Any help would be appreciated! ❤️

...

Hi! I'm looking for a fic that was based on Léon The Professional, though Stiles was older than Mathilda. Derek was the hitman, and Stiles's family had been murdered. If I remember correctly, Isaac and Scott had been his little brothers.

Would you be able to put your finger on this fic? "stiles has magic and he made a deal with a powerful witch to protect beacon hills, but it supposedly took away his love for derek in the process (or maybe Derek made the deal), except that he's growing a garden to break the spell" My google-fu is failing me. I know I've read it before, but going through my history is a month-long endeavor! I think Derek is a deputy and he keeps running into Stiles and it's not clear what has happened between them at first. I think Stiles is referred to as a hedge witch at some point? que tu m’aimais encore by magneticwave | 19.9K Wolves mate for life, don’t they?

I think this fic has been deleted off ao3 and I'm very sad. De-aged Derek. He and Stiles become a couple. Stiles ends up a human alpha of the entire pack. (TBH it's rather porny and there's voyeur/exhibition) and there's a lake house or beach house. Eventually Derek goes back to regular Derek.

Hi! Bit of a long one: there's this fanfic that is uncompleted, where Stiles was in the Hale House when he saw a crystal ball (??) on the floor, got down low to grab it and fell through the floor, waking up in the past. He met teenage Derek in a diner with Laura, started talking to them, and decided to protect Derek from Kate before he ever met her. Derek is a lifeguard at the lake where Stiles goes to monitor him and there was a scene where Derek lapped the lake to impress Stiles. Stiles also squats in the Stilinski House to survive and Sheriff doesn't know who he is. Do you know the fic? I've been looking for it for forever

Hi! I have been trying to find a teen wolf and marvel cross over fic. It’s where I believ Tony stark and Claudia where best friend growing up and fell in love. And then she gets pregnant with his baby(aka stiles). Stiles finds out from a bunch of letters but keeps it to himself until I believe Tony get captured and goes missing for months.( iron man 1). Then he goes into a depression and won’t eat or anything until the day Tony is found. Also involves when aliens attack and stiles freaks out again and makes it his mission to go to New York and meet him. Hidden Truths by Harmonious113 | 212.4K | WIP Claudia Stilinkski always did her best to hide the truth from her family-her past, her family, the boy she couldn’t quite seem to let go of- to spare John and Stiles from the heartbreak. Stiles finds a trunk of letters and pictures unearthing the truth. His father is Tony Stark.

It was a Teen Wolf Sterek fic, an au with magic. Claudia either adopted stiles or was his bio mom and pretended to adopt him, but stiles had a familiar who constantly turned into dead grotesque bodies and the only person who accepted them fully (and laughed at the familiar being gruesome) was laura. laura dies somehow and derek comes in. I think laura and stiles were partners for the magic things law enforcement? I remember that they thought stiles might have killed laura/tried to pin it on him, but after lauras death derek takes over as stiles' partner. I remember one scene with lydia and maybe heather and stiles with candles? I'm pretty sure both lyds and stiles lived with claudia. by the end of the fic the familiar sacrifices itself to save stiles and his friends from the argents, and I'm pretty sure there's a scene where ally defects from her aunt/grandpa. (There's) Sulphur in Our Blood by WonderWolf | 210.9K | Explicit | WIP Secret Agent AU where Derek blames Stiles for his sister’s death and Stiles is pretty sure that Derek’s going to murder him. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, Stiles’ familiar keeps having public breakdowns

Hi Team! Hoping the community can come through on finding two fics... First one - Stiles gets a stressful job in IT (poss in San Fran?) and starts hallucinating rich Derek drinking posh coffee in NYC. After several hallucinations of Derek being all "you really need a new job," it turns out that Derek is real, is an alpha, and Stiles is fated to be his emissary. The Sun to Rise by andavs | 7.5K Stiles has an imaginary friend. He's kind of a dick.

Second one - (which may have been deleted from AO3) is a canon divergent S1 AU. It hits the beats of S1 but instead Scott doesn't hesitate when Derek offers him the chance to kill Peter and possibly reverse the bite. Scott kills Peter and is human again. The main thing I remember is after the fact, Stiles visits Derek at the burned down Hale house and says something like "it's like none of it really happened." And Derek levels him with a sour wolf look and says "it happened." Timshel by jsea | 12.5K Derek lets Scott kill Peter for the cure at the end of S1. This is the story of how that choice changes everyone's fate. "Sir, you should know..." Derek starts to say, then snaps his mouth closed when the Sheriff takes one hand off the steering wheel, and holds it up in a halting gesture. "You're not a bad kid, Derek." "I'm a werewolf," Derek says, before he can think about it. For the first time in his life the word feels dirty, like something to be ashamed of. It makes him feel like a little kid again, using a curse word without understanding what it means.

I can't remember if it was a steter or sterek fic. It's a short humourous fic where Stiles has an injury but he was adamant that bandaids could fix it and it was at least a six inch long-ass gash or something. If this sounds familiar to anyone? Thanks!

Looking for a fic where I don’t remember much just Isaac coming home to Derek trashing the loft and saying something like “I just saw stiles, he reeks of sex” then it cut scene to something else. I don’t think it was a king fic but I could be wrong. Thank you so much in advance Noticed by forestofbabel | 35.1K Stiles left on a Tuesday. Nobody Noticed.

#sterek #ficrecs #sterek fics #lost fic

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catelyngrant · 4 months

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The Doctor Who Script collection dropped earlier this week and I've already spent, uh, many hours digging through various scripts (including all of the SJA scripts!), but if you've been here awhile, you know that the first one I went for was School Reunion.

It was really fun reading through what was changed, what beats were scripted vs. which weren't, and the emotional backdrops. One of the things that struck me most was that, for a very bittersweet episode, the script absolutely leaned harder into the bitter side of bittersweet than the episode as aired did. There were elements that I'm very glad didn't stay as well as moments I desperately wish had been kept. Overall, it was a joy to see the original draft of the story that got me into Doctor Who all those years ago.

He's so happy. Transported. Mesmerised. Dazed, reeling from the encounter. Oh, my HEART. This scene was pretty much aired as written, and David played it to the nines, of course, but it's really sweet to see how explicit the script is about how overwhelmed the Doctor is in this moment. So much of the episode focuses on Sarah's emotional reaction (rightly, if not always perfectly) and the hurt/discomfort that colors their relationship once she realizes it's the Doctor, so to have this moment of the Doctor's unadulterated happiness to see her is really lovely.

More highlights (including things that were cut, changed—for better or worse, and just directions that made me happy or that I found interesting) under the cut!

This scene was definitely different. The script didn't include the bit about them both investigating at the school and it has a bit more flippancy. I can't imagine this scene without the iconic slow shot of Sarah backing up and turning to see the Doctor behind her, so I'm really, really glad that they moved away from the idea of them colliding into each other and leaned into the gravitas a bit more.

Oh, what I would've given for them to have kept this!!!

On to the diner scene...oh boy, feelings about this. I've written essays about this scene—how in some ways it feels perfect and appropriate and Sarah's grief/lines like "you were my life" make a lot of sense in the context of the shock and hurt of an old wound reopened so violently, how that shouldn't be taken to mean that she'd wasted her life or that she's been paralyzed by a broken heart for thirty years, how everything is heightened and that's okay even if, on their own, some of these beats paint a grim picture—but whew. This would've been harder to swallow with the last bit, which I remember Lis having mentioned as something she fought back against.

I actually do love that she mentioned UNIT and Harry! But yeah, very glad that Lis talked them out of the last lines. There clearly wasn't an effort to adhere to Big Finish canon but minimizing and deflating her successful career on top of everything else would've been upsetting, and there just wasn't a good reason to paint her entire life as tragic outside of the raw reactions the Doctor's return illicit.

"If I thought about you..." Project it onto my GRAVESTONE!

THIS WAS SCRIPTED I AM SCREAMING, this is one of my FAVORITE little beats of the episode (so much so that I made a gif out of it like 13 years ago!)

The Sarah/Rose dynamic was a little 🙄 in the episode and a little more-so in the script, but I liked this bit:

The explicit apology is nice, but goddamn, I wish they'd kept "He doesn't deserve us."

I'm fascinated by the fact that in the script, she shrugs him off! The script generally has a slightly more bitter tinge than the episode itself did, which is so interesting to me, and that I'm glad was tempered.

The goodbye scene as scripted is set in the ruins of the school. I like that they moved it and created some space and time—everyone's changed clothes, they've had some breathing room, emotions have cooled a bit. It serves the scene better than I think this would have. This bit of the script includes a line that I always assumed had been cut given her line in the episode about "And like I said, I wouldn't have missed it for the world". Other than that, the dialogue and beats are pretty much what we see onscreen.

And then:

I have a very messy tangle of feelings about "Last chance" / "I know" that I'll be sorting out for the next 4-6 business weeks, so...stay tuned. (I also have an essay about ace-spectrum Sarah Jane that builds on the "he was a tough act to follow" line that WILL exist outside of my head at some point!)

Anyway! This was a fun deep dive 💞 I got a Doctor/Sarah-inspired tattoo earlier this month so I'm really in my renaissance era here!otp

#doctor who #sarah jane smith #school reunion #i will be going through the sja scripts next if anyone cares #otp: my sarah jane

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orionsangel86 · 2 years

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Watching The Sandman again for the hundreth time and I know everyone always loves to focus on Dreamling, but can we talk about Rose Walker for a moment?

The Sandman is often applauded (and complained about) for being an extremely gay show, but I particularly love how even the characters who aren’t canonically gay come across as extremely gay.

Take Rose Walker. The main character of The Doll’s House story. Neither the show nor the comics ever give Rose a sexuality, but there are some very glaring factors that heavily support her being queer.

The first time we see Rose is in episode 5 24/7. Judy, the lesbian at the diner who has had a fight with her girlfriend Donna, calls Rose and asks if Rose knows where Donna is. We know that Rose considers both Judy and Donna close friends and has a picture of Judy in her apartment.

Rose’s only other friend that we know of besides Lyta Hall (who she got to know via proximity since they were neighbours) is her friend Carl who she clearly is close enough with to let him house sit for her (even though he has sex with The Corinthian on her bed!).

So her closest friends are a lesbian couple and a gay man. I know I know straight people can be friends with queer people but statistically speaking queers flock together. Its more likely that Lyta is the token straight in the friend group than Rose AND Lyta both being straight.

I also question her choice of seeking out accomodation in Cape Kennedy. Isn’t it interesting how she ends up in a very strange B&B also managed by a gay drag artist and filled with colourful characters including Chantal and Zelda (I know their relationship is supposed to remain ambiguous but imo the show also leans more into them being lesbians due to Chantal’s dream where she calls them “soul sisters” and “gothic brides” and I dunno I just think the fact she refers to them as brides is pretty telling!)

Of all your accomodation choices in Florida, this in particular seems like the kind of place one would go to if they were specifically looking for somewhere advertised as “LGBT friendly”. All the characters staying at the B&B are either canonically queer or heavily queer coded.

Gilbert/Fiddlers Green isn’t technically human, but his whole aura is distinguished older gay man - he’s played by Stephen Fry after all!

Also I could go on about Barbie (who I theorise found the accomodation for her and Ken) but without revealing any comic spoilers, she also later surrounds herself with basically all queer people. I know in the comics she is strictly heterosexual, but nah she dreams like a queer theatre kid on speed or something lmao. That girl is a bisexual disaster all the way and yeah I may be projecting on her as a fellow blonde overly dramatic dreamer and disaster bisexual but I claim her for my own okay just let me have this.

So yeah, the queer friendship groups, the specific seeking out of an LGBTQ friendly b&b in Florida, and the fact that she literally wears rainbows in her hair and I think its clear enough that that girl is a baby queer if ever I saw one.

Due to the merging of Rose and Lyta’s stories in the Netflix show, we should actually get to see more of Rose in future seasons. In the comics, after the Dolls House book, she doesn’t appear again (unless she turns up in the Wake since I haven’t read that far ahead), but by making her Lyta’s companion in the show, we know she will appear again since Lyta and the baby (Daniel not that he has been named yet in the show) are reoccuring characters throughout the entire Sandman comic run.

Maybe I just crave more lesbian and bisexual women rep in my fave shows, but sitting here watching this show again it just tickles me that in the entirety of season 1, it is so easy to view practically every major female or female presenting character as queer. Joanna Constantine and Rachel, Judy and Bette, Lucifer and Mazikeen (bring on the make out scene in season 2!), Chantal and Zelda, and in my opinion, Rose Walker, Barbie, Lucienne, and Gault are all queer coded WLW.

(Lucienne and Gault is just a ship I love okay but you can’t deny there was some flirting in episode 10!)

It’s been such a crappy year for lesbian rep with lesbian shows getting cancelled left right and centre. I just think lesbians should therefore claim the Sandman as theirs. if nothing else, claim it out of spite. It’s a fantasy show with a pathetic wet cat emo boy as a main character who literally surrounds himself with lesbians, is probably in love with his best friend, and considers a slutty gay serial killer with teeth for eyes his greatest ever creation. It just seems to me like the kind of show that should appeal heavily to WLW okay! Plus there are more lesbians coming in season 2! Encourage your lesbian and bisexual friends to go watch The Sandman now!

#The Sandman #rose walker #lgbtq #queer coding #queer coding in the sandman #please talk to me about this show #i love it and i really wanna talk about it now #even the non queer characters are queer #the angry straights were right when they said every character in the show is gay #even the non gay characters are gay #its the gay fantasy show to go with the gay pirate and vampire shows #my stuff

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kyoongboxi · 1 year

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One Summer Night —

[Baekhyun AU]

Summary; Even though bugs freely roaming around in summer and add another reasons to the list of why you should hate summer, but for now especially this year's summer, you are grateful because you managed to repaint and fixed the broken memories with the person you never thought you'd meet again.

Pairing; Baekhyun x Reader

Genre; fluff, romance

——

It is time of the night again. You were back into your small town in the middle of college break which happened at the same time with the summer break. You are always spending your summer by part-timing at different places. Car wash, ice cream booth, diner, barista, and now drive thru cinema. You are the one who's in charge on the entrance gate checking their ticket before allowing them to get in. But today, the manager decided to split up one role for each person because there was someone new also applying for a part time.

So starting from tonight, you are only going to be the one who's in charge of staying until the last film rolls up. Ten more minutes and the film finally ended as the clock struck at two in the morning. You have your palm supporting your head against your cheek, lazily watching the film on the big screen that you have watched countless times inside the ticketing booth near the entrance.

The next ten minutes seems like it passed in a blink because you didn't realize you overslept. Thanks to the sound of the car engine that passed against the booth you were in caused you to wake up. You looked up, feeling excited because you will soon finally go home and reunite with your bed as you saw the big screen already showed a credit scene rolled up.

You stood up, stretching your body a bit before stepping out from the booth. Randomly greeting the car that passed away with a thankyou and a small wave. Your duty seems like nothing serious at all but here is the real job would start. You were not only randomly greeting them goodbye but you also have to count and to make sure how many cars that get in and get out. You sighed when you count the last car passed on the 14th when there were supposedly 15 cars inside.

You throw your head to the side, notice there was the 15th supposed car still parked inside, alone. It was an old small car, probably an old Corolla series. But still—

"Hey— go check on them, yeah?" It was one of your friends, your senior to be exact. So you can even dare to say no. This is the part where you hate this job. The film on the big screen has finally rolled up, showing only a pitch black screen without any text or pictures but thankfully, the big ass lamps still provide the lights illuminated.

It was probably a week ago, when the 11th supposed car still parked inside even when the film already ended. You thought nothing serious will wait for you there, because you thought the people inside the car might be overslept because lots done that but it's not. When you walked closely, you didn't realize that the car was making too much movement in an off engine. Until you knocked on the window and realized that there was a woman half naked while bouncing up and down passionately against the man's lap with half closed eyes.

And tonight, your steps were a bit hesitant as you closely pay attention if the car was moving or not. When you can confirm that the car is not moving, you jog a bit towards it. Softly knocking on the window and taking a peek at it. Good for you because there was only one person inside. A man seems like overslept with his arm lifted into the back of his head as a pillow. You tried to knock again, this time its a bit harder until you noticed a sight of him waking up.

Then you took a step backwards. Waiting for him to open the window. You noticed the man has a white hair with some blue streaks decorated against it. "Sir, the movie has already ended and you may leave—"

"Baekhyun? What the hell?"

The moment you realized it was him, you froze. The names you haven't heard since very long ago slipped out of your mouth easily. You never thought you'd meet him again here. Seeing his face that hasn't changed much takes you back to your childhood where you both being close as if you were his siblings but you were not. You even repeatedly showering together after playing dirt in your backyard.

He was that boy living next to your door when you were young. You cherish him so much as a little kid. He was funny, cute and caring. You are already like his twin because if he gets sick, you get sick and it goes the other way around. But sadly, the friendship only lasted until both of you went to high school. His parents went through a divorce and he had to follow his mother moving away.

Both of his parents moved out on their own. The house next to yours suddenly becomes really quiet. You can no longer hear Baekhyun walking up to your door with his dog barking as they walk to your porch, you can no longer hear his hearty laugh from afar if you joke around about him helping his dad out cutting the grass, you can no longer see his handsome-cute face again that currently hits by puberty.

And you remember that day pretty clearly, you really do. The last day he was in town. Everything feels gloomy. His cheeky smile disappeared as he put his stuff into the pickup truck that parked in front of his home. You couldn't resist so you walked up to him. Bringing him into your warm embrace several seconds before you pulled back. He grasped your palm tightly, eyes glistening with tears as it gazed into yours. He'd promised you that he will soon make a call when he's arriving on the new town and you believe him.

But one day passed, several months passed, several years passed until you graduated from high school, you still haven't received any phone call from the boy you always wait for. Starting from there, you decided to throw his friendship's promise away from your reach, ready to start a new life once you get in to college. And now he's finally here, showed up all of sudden when you are about to graduate from college.

"Mia? Is that you?" He leaned forward, eyes narrowed as he took in your current appearance. You noticed he also rubbed his eyes using his fingers to get a better view.

"Sorry— we're about to close. You can leave now. Thank you for visiting Palm Springs drive thru cinema. Have a good night" With that, you turned around. Didn't want to start another conversation but you can hear he was calling your name, the sound of his car door being slammed right after follows as he catches up behind your back.

"Mia— hey! Wait—" He left you no choice as he walked closer so you stopped walking. Turned around to face him. You can now see his appearance clearly. He was wearing a floral shirt paired with a t-shirt underneath and a light blue jeans. Crazy how puberty can hit a man turned from a stick into this. His now broad shoulder is the first thing you noticed.

"Yes? Anything you need sir?" You finally answered.

"No—"

"Okay" You nodded agreeing. Already taking another step as you turned your back against him again but for the second time, the words came out from his mouth cast a spell against your body to stop your movement, once again.

"Can I take you for a drink? Please? But only if you want to. I won't force"

And that's how you ended up sitting in his car on the passenger seat. Back then on childhood days, you used to sit with him together on the passenger seat as your dad drove you both to school. You smiled at the memory. It was the time when you don't have to think about adulting, about getting older.

Baekhyun drove the car along the road that leads to the beach without any other conversation happening along the fifteen minute rides. Only the song played on the radio becomes the one who filled the car's atmosphere. You missed him, you really do. But you feel like you don't have to express it because the man himself seems like doesn't feel sorry for leaving you hanging.

Once you got out of the car, your eyes saw several people still partying even though it was already very late. Some were singing with their guitar circling the bonfire, some were just chilling on the sand with their bottles, some playing near the waves with their drunken ass. You follow Baekhyun's step into the booth. It was decorated with sparkling yellow hanging lightbulbs and other garden lights decorated on the ground.

Without asking, Baekhyun suddenly offers you a bottle of an alcoholic beverage as both of you arrive in front of the booth. Instead of sitting on the bar or even on the bench, the man dragged you back into the sand close to the waves. Walking side by side listening to the rolling waves and a faint noise of people laughing.

"You look good with mid hair length" The man with two toned hair suddenly burst out whatever is in his mouth to start a conversation after he took a gulp from his bottle.

Your lips drew softly into a smile but you keep your gaze down. Staring at the soft waves that greet your bare feet repeatedly every ten seconds. "Thanks" You could feel the awkwardness was thick like a wall separates you with him in the middle even though you were walking side by side with him.

"You're welcome" He shrugged. "Actually— I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean to disappear just like that—"

"Baekhyun" His sentence was stopped when the woman, you, called his name softly. You sighed, finally giving up and push your own ego aside as you stopped walking and turned your gaze against him. He is now currently looking at you but you couldn't really get focused because the soft wind has blown his hair a little, as if forcing his hair to reveal more of his forehead.

"Let the past stay in the past. I understand it must be hard for you—" This is the version of you that he always missed. Your soft spoken tone right after you called his name, Baekhyun.

"Everything was fine at the beginning, I found a real friend in high school so— I admit that I forgot I actually have a childhood friend that might be waiting for my call to hear how I am doing— but everything went down when I got into college" You nodded, listening to him carefully. Every word that comes out from his mouth greeted by the waves that sweep off his feet and you as if telling him to take it easy.

"I found my mother was sick and she has been hiding it from me since we moved in. I barely survived because our life was scattered. She was hospitalized ever since. I worked my ass off in the middle of college life. I made it, I can earn some money. I was happy, I was so proud of myself but it did not last for long because on the next day, I found my mother dead"

"I was a mess. I was becoming an alcohol freak until I got hospitalized more than once because of that" He chuckled. "I barely survived from the 2nd time.. So I tried to find somebody. Thinking this somebody could help me out from this mess but she just wants my dick and my money" Baekhyun is the first one who broke his gaze towards you as he took another gulp from his bottle. Eyes drifted into the pitch black ocean which is always offering a silent comfort.

"Your name suddenly crossed my mind when she left me wasted that night. But thank God I can hold myself from not calling you because I will never ever forgive myself if I did that—" The man let out a sigh, blinking several times before his glistening eyes drifted towards you again. He smiled.

And you, you suddenly feel like you were in the middle of several people circling you, everyone throwing spits from their mouth saying you're the most selfish person in the world because all you think about him is just doesn't care about you anymore because he found someone new. Because he found a lover that could love him all the time more like what you can offer as a friend.

"I— I don't know what to say. I'm— I'm sorry all of that happened to you" Hell, even it left you too stunned to speak.

"I missed you, Mia" Without even thinking twice, you decided to throw yourself against him, bring him into a super tight embrace as you rest your head against his shoulder.

"I missed you too. I missed you too, Baekhyun. So much" You murmured softly, eyes tightly shut when the man wrapped his arms around your body. Stroking your back up and down in a slow movement.

Both of you stayed in the position for a while until you were the first one who pulled away. Feet still carries you and him to walk even further away from the booth and the crowd. "Want another bottle to drink? I'll call them to deliver here"

He asked if you wanted another bottle but you simply shook your head. You can't drink more than one bottle because your alcohol tolerance is low so you continue to walk with him instead, still enjoying the ocean in the night sky. He told you about his college life including that one woman and you told him about your college life as well. This man still doesn't change at all from the way he spoke, from the way his eyes lit up when he found something interesting bout your stories because when he broke into a hearty laugh, you suddenly feel a tug inside your heart.

He was laughing, and so do you. Hitting his arm while pushing his body backwards because you can't stand his joke. And Baekhyun was the first one who raised a flag of war. You didn't notice he was crouching down and the next thing you know, he attacked you with a splash of salt water. You immediately throw your head to the side, hands trying to block his attack as you laugh along with him. Now you were half running because he won't stop attacking in a joking manner.

A scream with a muffled laugh was heard when he caught you from behind. He lifts your body to face him and he splashes the water right into your face. Feeling satisfied enough, Baekhyun finally stopped his attack. Grinning widely but it doesn't last longer because his grin was replaced with worries as he noticed your laugh has died down. You look down. Rubbing both of your eyes carefully because his last attack goes right into your eyes and damn salt water is really that stung.

"Oh my God— Are you okay? I'm sorry—" Baekhyun approaches you. He took your hand and told you to look up to him. You blinked several times, hoping it would help you a little as your tears flow down from the corner of your eyes.

The way his eyes were flashed with worries when he focused on yours, caused you to choke against your own laugh. "I'm okay. It's getting better—"

"Are you sure? I can call them to bring us some clean water"

"No, no. I'm fine. I swear. See?" You leaned forward, widened your eyes purposely as you starred at him. He shook his head, immediately bringing his face closer to get a better view. Pulling his shirt to wipe the mess on your eyes softly. Now that he is too close to your liking, you pull your head back and drift your gaze down into your feet. "Sorry" You murmured softly.

When you were young, he repeatedly did this to check on you but you feel nothing. It was nothing more than a friendly gesture but now as you're getting older, you never thought you'd catch some feelings when this man did something to you. You were lost in your own mind but Baekhyun suddenly pulled you closer as you still have your arms wrapped around his fingers.

He lifts your chin up to him softly. The way his fingertip made contact with your skin, it caused your heart to pump the blood faster until you can feel it rushing all over your body. His gaze traced over your features before his hands moved to your cheeks, tucking a hair behind your ear to stroke your skin with both of his thumb. Wiping the tears off.

Damn, his thumbs left your cheeks burned hot. Not to mention the alcohol that started to kick in against your system as well. The way his eyes becomes slightly droopy and it drifted into yours, staring deeply into your hesitate one. It was filled with emotions a friend shouldn't have. But he knows pretty clearly the moment when you get shy, so he chuckled. And it leaves your belly to churn even more.

Exactly an hour ago, the awkwardness was thick but he managed to turn it into a high tension because his spells always worked. You gripped his hands. Trying to control the sudden burst of emotion but his gesture just made it even worse. You noticed he was stealing a glance into your half parted lips. Baekhyun brought his face closer until you could feel his soft breath, warm exhalation against your skin before he leaned in, claiming your lips as both of you finally managed to break the tension and turned it into a beautiful fireworks flames.

You smiled into the kiss, eyes immediately closed as you circling your arms around his neck lovingly. Enjoying the kiss with an eyes closed. He got one hand against your waist and held your jaw on the other one. His thumb grazed the skin with barely any pressure that caused you to flush your body more against him.

It was a slow kiss. No desperation was felt even though Baekhyun managed to see you again only this time after long ago. The waves that softly sweep off his feet and you, acting like its a perfect paid actor as you can feel him pouring down his longing into the kiss. He started it and he was also the one who pulled away.

His breath was getting warmer when it caressed your face. You could tell he was still trying to control his sudden burst of unknown emotion inside his heart when he pressed his nose together against yours. He chuckled, lips brushing ever so lightly against yours when he speak.

"Friends don't kiss each other.. And we just met again after a long time. Don't you hate me?" He breathed out.

"I hate you very much" Your hands went lower, tracing his neck and went to his chest to hit him lightly. Earning a laugh from the man as you leaned your head against his shoulder. You have your arms wrapped around his waist and him doing the same.

"I'm surprised you still have our matching necklace" He was hiding it under the shirt but you're always noticing every small detail about him. You smiled at the memories. It was nothing more than a cheap necklace but its not about the price, its about the symbolic of bounds and the history that follows.

Baekhyun didn't answer. Instead he strokes your hair multiple times and gives you kisses in the top of your head. You feel warm at the feeling. This man knows how to make your heart beat faster. This man knows how to treat a woman, this man knows how to treat you. Several years missing caused you to think he was long forgotten. Already starting a new life with people he loves.

It was the time when you realize you can't hold people and forced them to act like that for the sake of your ego. It was the time you realize that people will come and go no matter what is the reason because it is supposed to be like that.

But today, the man— the boy from your childhood comes back with all the memories you used to cherish. One summer night that changed everything, one summer night that once again grazed a beautiful memory on an empty canvas. Baekhyun, your Baekhyun that finally comes back to you. And you don't intend to let go of his hold again either.

Kyoongboxi's works🐾

#baekhyun scenarios #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun oneshot #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun au

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saltygilmores · 1 year

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Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls Season 2, Episode 15, "Lost And Found", Aka The Bracelet Has Breached Containment, Aka BraceletGate, Aka QuarterOnAStringGate, Part 6

Five minutes to go. We've finally arrived at the rotting meat of the episode. Since I won't watch Teach Me Tonight (or the episode that comes after it), this is the last episode for a good long while solely focused on Lorelai Gilmore's paranoia. Thank Gawd. I am drained.I have nothing left in me. She has sucked out my life force the way she sucks the lifeforce out of Dean Forrester. Parts 1-5 (!!) and all other episodes can be found in my pinned post.

Out of context, this looks terribly ominous.

Sweaterpaws.

Jess was seriously going to just go home and not even bother to ask for any money (well, he did say "I'll be back to collect it later, I know where you live", like the old timey Italian mobster he is). But he could have used that $5 (I do wish I could tell how much she's holding). Even though Jess must wait on Lorelai's table at his place of employment at least once a day every single day, I wager this is the first time Lorelai has ever paid him or tipped him squat. The boy was too stunned to speak. Better make sure its not Monopoly money or something.

I love how cautiously he takes it. He's such a smart boy, he knows this is a trap.

Time for my favorite #SadBaby joke, one I made up myself many years ago: Why does Jess Mariano love Santa Claus so much? Because unlike his father, at least Santa Claus visits once a year.

You dropped this, my king.👑 The fact that he's so utterly unbothered by Lorelai, making this a completely one-sided argument by an adult with a minor child will always be hilarious to me. Lorelai: Why would you do this? Oh, the DRAMATICS! I would never be dramatic.

WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER!!! How you like them apples?

"Don't whatever me, you ittle jerk! You let Rory run around PANICKED! Thinking she lost her boyfriend's bracelet! She was MISERABLE! DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

You ever wonder if Dean Forrester is perched on a rooftop somewhere with a sniper rifle and if Lorelai doesn't say "Dean is great" "Dean is tall and pretty" "Dean is the best lover I've ever had" out loud at least twice a day, it's lights out for her? It's either that or he's blackmailing her and is going to spill their illicit relationship if she doesn't kiss his ass on the regular, or maybe he used some advanced brainwashing techniques on her (this one is highly unlikely, he's barely literate) there are no other possible explanations for this behavior.

Way to go Lorelai, that's four rapid fire lies, exagerrations and falsehoods in the span of mere seconds. I'm impressed. I think Jess has to be dying of laughter on the inside right now listening to this crazy bitch's lunatic rantings. Actualy, in the second picture, from that angle it almost looks like Milo is smiling lol

Baby, you're so smart. I know you didn't finish high school, but you should still win some kind of award for smartness. #AdmireTheBaby

Lorelai can't call Dean "son", it would clash with his other title, "Rory's Future Stepfather."

Lorelai's face after Jess pointed out Rory didn't miss the bracelet for two weeks. SHE KNOWS HE'S RIGHT. Come on, just admit this kid is right and we can move on with our lives!

Lorelai goes back to the living room to contemplate how Jess Mariano is right about everything all the time.

Okay, since we know Luke isn't getting a new apartment, I'm intrigued. Ahhh, a second Nuclear Luke rant in one episode! It almost makes up for the rotting meat of the previous scene. "Taylor is systematically buying up the whole town! He's gonna turn it into Taylorville! Everyone will wear cardigans and have the same grass height! He's gonna buy the building next to the diner and turn it into a plate shop for freaks without enough brainpower to buy stamps! I walked around in a blind rage. I was crazy. I bought one of those Belgian waffles with the ice cream dipped in chocolate. But I didn't eat it, I'm upset, not suicidal." LMAAAAAO. Oh Luke Danes, I love you so fucking much. "I had your voice going around and around in my head, I heard you saying, "take a chance Luke, make a move! Can't have a single bed! So I bought the building!" Told you Lorelai's nagging wields tremendous power, leading men to emotional and financial ruin.

For a few brief moments, Lorelai is the voice of reason and rationality. She suggests he could back out of the purchase, or barring that, expand the diner or rent the building to someone Taylor really hates, which is an idea I could get behind. Luke has 100k to spend on real estate, huh. I've said this before, I envision an au where Luke signs the paperwork to just get Jess his own seperate apartment. Even he had to wait until his 18th birthday. Jess could contribute to some of the rent and bills and Luke could pick up the rest. Everyone would be happy. I just want Jess to thrive and be happy. I'm going to imagine him thriving and happy.

A moment later, Lorelai is back to her old self. Holy hell, woman. The fuck is wrong with you? Poor Rory! Can Luke front some of that 100k to pay for Rory's future therapy bills, that she'll surely need after the damage you've caused?

I honestly have no idea what the fuck she's talking about. When have they been "thrown together"? When you think about it, Rory and Jess so far have had minimal interaction aside from some brief conversations, the majority of which Lorelai isn’t even aware of, and we're 10 episodes in after Jess' arrival. Do you mean the Bracebridge Dinner? The thing you set up and invited him to? Literally, Lorelai doesn't even know that Rory and Jess interacted in her backyard this afternoon. Or do you mean the picnic basket auction? Where Jess committed the unspeakable crime of having lunch with Rory?

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? Luke thinks Rory and Jess would make a good pair. Lorelai is so in awe of the power of Jess Mariano that she fears coupling him with her daughter might rip a hole in the very fabric of space and time.

Luke is my favorite Literati shipper.

"If Rory dates Jess, my shnooky-ukkums Dean will stop coming over to my house. Jess Mariano must die."

At least the last minute of the episode brings us one of the most splendid endings in Gilly Girls history.

Promotional poster for my horror movie called The Hollow: Luke Danes' Revenge. He's got a sledgehammer, a troubled nephew, and a thirst for Taylor Doose's blood.

I LOVE how hard Milo flinched when the hammer went through the wall. THIS EPISODE IS OVER. I SURVIVED THE ENTIRE THING. Where's my cookie?!

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #anti lorelai gilmore #jess mariano #milo ventimiglia #rory gilmore #gilmore girls season 2 #lost and found #HALLELUJAH #You guys just dont know how many hours these things take me #luke danes #Luke Danes is a confirmed Literati shipper #literati #another one where Lorelai Talks For Rory #taking it upon herself to assume what Rory is thinking and feeling without actually asking #and then wreaking havoc

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macabr3-barbi3 · 8 days

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New Love, New Skin (Chapter 4)

Roller skating shenanigans, Vincent's past, and an unwelcome bird (I hope you like even more backstory!)

Tags: roller skating, gender stereotypes, bitchass bird, morning sex lol PS another thank you to @fraugwinska for the banner and for being my #1 hype woman, ily <3

June 1959

Despite how much he wants to- needs to, really- Vincent doesn’t ask anything about Gideon past that first time, when Kora had her nightmare.

It eats at his mind though- that the guy had been such a piece of shit, taking advantage of Kora’s kindness and good heart, had still gotten to marry her, took away any chance of a life of her own for his own agenda, and she still kept his photo on her nightstand like a tiny shrine. He didn’t deserve that; Vincent would burn the damn thing if he thought he could get away with it, but the thought of Kora turning those sad puppy eyes on him always stops him from reaching for it, from letting the force of his frustration crack the glass that covered that smug fucker’s face.

He found solace in the form of bringing Kora down to the station to get a proper photo with her, arm slung around her shoulder and her hand on his chest. Richard- now one of Vincent’s biggest fans and supporters at his job- had been more than happy to lend one of the stations newspaper photographers for the job while they gave Kora a tour, and when the photo came back to them fully developed Kora had squealed with delight, framing it and putting it on display in their living room. Sometimes when he came out of the bedroom he would see her looking at it with an affectionate smile, and that was more than worth the picture of that bat bitch on her side table.

Richard had also been advocating with the management team for Vincent to have a more involved role at the station- he was shifted to the evening news production team to work with Rich directly, not on screen with him (yet) but behind the scenes in compiling his notes, working on scripts for the teleprompters, visual checks on the recording equipment and such.

That did mean that he was around Joy Jagoff more often, an unfortunate downside, but she mostly left him alone aside from the occasionally muttered comment about dogs that Rich always reprimanded her for- he was extremely fond of Kora, asking Vincent about her constantly, asking when he was going to bring her around again.

It was harder to line their schedules up now that he was on a different shift, which was an unfortunate downside to his moving up at the station. Monday through Saturday he worked 8 to 4AM, usually coming home with just enough time to cuddle up to Kora for a bit before she got up for her daily walk.

(He had a good success rate with keeping her in bed for a quick orgasm these days- they took their time on Sundays, the only day that they had off together, but he had a special weakness for her voice all husky from the remnants of sleep and crying out his name as he gently fucked her into the mattress.)

When he gets home early Sunday morning of that week, Kora is already out- he strips and settles into bed, hoping he can coax her back under the sheets with him when she returns from her walk. There’s no coffee brewing yet- these days she usually makes a pot for herself in the mornings and then another for him just before she leaves for the diner, so he wakes up to a fresh pot and the reminder that she made things better for him. He’s not tired, not feeling the siren call of sleep yet when the front door slams open, the photos on the wall rattling with the force and Kora calling his name from the living room. He’s barely sat up before she’s flying through the door, a bundle of excitement and wagging tail launching herself onto the bed. She thankfully manages to avoid anything sensitive with her knees and elbows as she presses a few smiling kisses to his screen and neck, golden tail in the air.

“Mornin’, Goldie. What’s got you in a tizzy?” He asks her, and she grins, teeth on display when she wraps her arms around him and rolls so that he’s hovering over her- he can still feel the shifting of the sheets under her where her fluffy appendage hasn’t stopped moving.

“I ran into Eris on my walk,” she says excitedly, practically vibrating with the force of it, “and she said that Viv is having a party for her sister at the skating rink and some of her friends canceled- so since the diner is closed tonight anyway and the number of people was already paid for they said that everyone on the staff can come with! Eris won’t be there, she said she had something else going on but I think it would be cool to introduce you to everyone.”

“That could be fun,” he agrees, not wanting to tone down her excitement, but not thrilled about the prospect of his fragile screen in a place full of quickly moving bodies. “You’re sure you want me to meet all your coworkers?”

“Of course! It can’t possibly go any worse than my meeting Joy.” She flashes a grin, all snark and mischief at the memory of how pissed she had made the anchorwoman, how often Vincent came home with stories about how bitchy she was towards him now that they worked more closely together. “I think everyone will love you- and if not, there’s only so many jokes that can be made about television.” She knocks on the side of his head, running her hands down his chest before she tries to leap up from the bed again.

He wraps his arms around her middle, dragging her back down. “Hold on, doll,” he murmurs, kissing at her neck as she tries to squirm away. “C’mon, you're having fun- make it a good morning for me, too.” Kora laughs and turns into his embrace, lets him strip her bare and fling her clothing out from under the sheets before she slides under them herself to kiss and suck at his cock, heavy with arousal and need for her.

She waits until just before he’s about to orgasm to release him from her mouth and climb on top, sinking down on his length and grinding her hips, claws digging little indentations into his pecs that he’s going to savor the sting of when he showers later. Her eyes are half lidded and mischievous as she rides him, harsh pants of his name tumbling from her lips, head dropping back in pleasure.

He gets a hand back to grip at her tail like he’s learned that she likes, and he’s rewarded with a whine, low and sinful. “Come on, Kora, good girl, that’s it,” he mumbles to her, and her walls ripple around him at the praise- he loves that she likes him running his mouth when he fucks her, a mutually beneficial act that they find themselves playing out more often than not. He can’t help that she feels so fucking good he can’t keep his mouth shut, filthy words pouring from him like a spigot when she starts to clench down, when she rides him well like she was doing now. “Fucking perfect, baby, keep going-”

Kora’s voice comes out as a growl, her blue eyes glowing when she brings them back to his face. “Vin- fucking close, oh my God-” One of her delicate hands comes down between her legs to rub at her clit, the fluttering of her cunt signaling her imminent release.

He gets his feet under himself so he can buck his hips up to meet her thrusts, the hand not wrapped around her tail tangling in her hair to drag her down to meet his lips. His own orgasm is barreling towards him, but his ego won’t let him finish before she does- he was a fucking gentleman, damn it, and the day that he came before Kora would be the day he would walk naked into the street during an extermination. “Go ahead, sweetheart, come for me- you feel so fucking good-”

She tenses in his arms, hoarse cry leaving her throat when it hits her; she shudders in his embrace, the motion reflected with the rippling of her soft walls around him, and he grunts “fuck, baby, coming ” into her ear as he spills his release into her warm, wet heat.

Kora snuggles into his side long enough that his screen is dimming before she finally gets up and he drifts into sleep.

He’s been thinking and dreaming a lot about his life up top- more details about his childhood and his family and the people he had known and grown up with.

There are more memories of his father than he would have liked, and not enough of his mother with how young he was when she left. A blue collar factory worker, he had been a hard-ass on Vincent as far back as he could remember- always griping at him to do as he was told, obedience is all that anyone values; don’t show emotion, that shit is for girls and gays; don’t show weakness, there will always be someone waiting to take advantage of it; be better, be more, be worth something more than he was; don’t ever cry, don’t ever scream, don’t ever back down from a fight, be a man. His pains and hurts were ignored if they weren’t beneficial to teach him some lesson, his mother never quite able to protect him completely from that particular brand of education.

And despite it all, Vincent had wanted his attention. His recognition. His approval.

It was his motivating force behind nearly everything that he did. Once his mom walked out and it was just him and the old fuck he nearly killed himself ten times over to make him happy. He never turned down a dare or a friendly fight, resulting in more scars and bruises in his teenage years than he had known how to keep track of- including the one over his eye that reflected down here in Hell, not a matter of faulty wiring like Kora had assumed when they first met. He made sure that he was always the most charismatic person in the room, the funniest, the brightest. It got him a lot of recognition- and pussy- in college, but it never came from where he wanted it.

That didn’t stop him. He graduated and went right into news, wanting people to see him, notice him, pay attention even if it wasn’t his father. He got good ratings, he was charming and funny, he was an absolute riot at company parties; people couldn’t get enough of him.

It was never enough. He had enough sense now to know that what he was chasing couldn’t come from popularity, no matter how much of it he had had. Maybe if he had known it then things could have been different.

He had finally remembered how he had died- an exclusive interview live on the prime news slot at the new shark exhibit at a local aquarium. He was humble enough to know that it had been his own fault, that his ego hadn’t been thrilled about the attention being pulled off himself to the investor of the exhibit and his thrilling tale of how he had captured the creature, escaped their altercation with only a couple of missing fingers. Vincent had wanted to bring the eyes of the audience back onto himself, where they belonged- using the edge of the tank as a balance beam in a showy act of charisma had seemed a great idea until he had slipped and tumbled into the water, dragging the microphone and the wiring it was attached to into the tank with him.

Honestly, he figured he had gotten off pretty easy- if the electrocution hadn’t killed the shark along with him, he would have made a tasty snack.

Vincent hasn’t told Kora about it yet- he’s not sure he wants to, if he wants to see her eyes grow dark with disappointment at his pride and how he had ended up here, even if it had placed him in her path. He wants her to think the best of him, he realizes. She deserves so much more than what the afterlife has to offer, so much more than he currently could offer her. He had spent so much of their time together so far riding on her coattails when she rescued him, picked him up off the street and fixed him. He wanted to give her everything back that she had given him, tenfold; he simply wanted to give her everything that she deserved.

He had never experienced anything like their relationship when he was alive, and they weren’t even dating- they still had yet to apply any sort of label to what they were doing together, but he thinks that they have a real chance if they want to try going properly steady instead of the casual thing they had going on now. He had only ever been a hook up or a one night stand on Earth, never met a girl’s parents or family or kept a photo of her in his wallet. He’d never felt the necessary sentiments, figured that eventually he would settle down when he met the right woman, when chasing the high of fame and recognition had been fulfilled. Women were mostly interchangeable to him when he bothered with trying to get his dick wet, and he knew that he was hot so when he wanted it, sex was easy to come by.

He had no shame about the fact that the sin that had landed him here was Pride. He just still couldn’t grasp the fact that Kora was in Hell with him at all; sometimes she seemed to just radiate the feeling of Heaven, of sunshine and flowers and happiness and that weird, warm feeling in his chest that made him uncomfortable and pleased at the same time. Disgustingly sentimental, Vincent thinks that he could spend his afterlife at her side and never get bored, never want her to leave.

When he wakes hours later, internal lights powering up and making his screen glow, he decides that he’ll ask her about it tonight. He can hear her humming something out in the kitchen as he comes back to the world of consciousness, excitement over the prospect of skating later still evident in her tone. He catches himself smiling, dopey expression on his face, and he hopes that this, at least, he doesn’t fuck up.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

Kora looks too fucking good in the twirly little skirt that she wore, the cab driver giving her a glance that lasts a couple seconds too long when they clamber out of the vehicle together, Vincent tossing the payment in his direction with a sneer and a slam of the door. The skating rink is located in some sort of warehouse outside of Imp City, painted all sorts of bright, fun colors that make it stick out like an eyesore amongst the usual red and black and dark color scheme of Hell. Kora leads him in through a side door, waving to someone inside the building as they approach, arm wrapped around her waist to keep her close.

It doesn’t work for long- she’s sliding out of his grasp as soon as they’ve obtained their skates, lacing hers up before he’s even taken his shoes off and gliding away with the grace of a swan to spin in circles in the middle of the rink. She got a lot of practice at work, he knew, with Viv’s being one of those places that had all the waitresses running around on wheels- it was something else to see her in action though. He watches some women come up to her, all smiles and laughter, and something aches inside him, his hands stilling on the laces he was trying to tie.

“Need some help?”

A feathered hand is sliding along his calf, the touch so unexpected and unwelcome that he feels his face go full static for a moment before he registers that someone has seated themselves beside him. Their face is tilted downward so their long and narrow beak isn’t shoved directly into his face, making their expression almost coquettish as they look at him from under their lashes. White feathers fade to black along the outer edges of their face, the darker shades slipping into colors that remind him of an oil spill, dark greens and blues reflecting with the light when they tilt their head. The feathers cover their body, peeking out from a small white shirt with the slightest hint of breasts and shorts that would have been near illegal on Earth, before fading above stick-thin orange legs tucked into what was clearly a custom made set of skates.

They smirk at him, the line of their mouth hitching upwards. “What, ya only show silent films or somethin’?”

“I talk just fine,” he says, carefully sliding a chair over and dislodging their hand from his leg- his skates still weren’t on properly. “I don’t, however, take kindly to strangers touching me.”

The hint- if you could call it that, with how very obviously and unashamedly he had moved away- is ignored. The bird shifts into the seat he had just vacated. “We don’t have t’be strangers,” they say lowly, casting a glance around the room before sliding a winged arm over his shoulder and tracing a finger over the back of his screen. The motion makes his skin crawl, pulling his head as far back from the person as he can even as they follow him back, their other hand coming up to grip at his bicep. “C’mon, there’s a nice lil supply closet down the hall we could get acquainted with- could get me on my knees and-”

“Jesus Christ,” he says desperately, his renewed effort to get away landing him solidly on the floor as he falls out of the chair and his skates slide out from under him. “I’m not interested, fuck -”

“Whaaaat? I was just gonna offer t’tie ya laces up.” They give him a wink, violet eyes fluttering innocently, and he’s tempted to tell them where they can shove their offer when a more welcoming hand is laid on his shoulder, Kora’s familiar scent of almonds and coffee filling his senses.

“Vin, you okay? I saw you fall over- I’m so sorry, I should have helped you with your skates…” She trails off, settling onto her knees beside him and looking him over for any possible injuries or pains. She glances up at the person who had sat beside him, and he prepares for her to tear into the bitch like she had with Joy.

Instead, a smile lights up her face. “Eris! I thought you said this morning that you couldn’t make it?”

“Eh, cleared up somethin’ in my schedule,” the bird smiles- Eris, he knew now- and offers a shrug. “Ya didn’t mention bringin’ such a handsome friend, babe.”

“Oh! Yes, this is my boyfriend, Vincent.” Kora places a hand on his chest where she crouches beside him, arm sliding around his back to start helping him to his feet. He catches a glimpse of Eris’s face scowling and relishes in it before what Kora has said clicks.

My boyfriend, Vincent.

His plans for the night- a sweet little outing, asking her out officially, maybe a nice night between the sheets to mark the occasion- sputter and crackle with the wires in his head. If Kora notices the faint buzzing noise now coming from him she doesn’t mention it as she gets him standing and keeps an arm around his waist to hold him steady on the skates.

How long had she considered them being dating?

Had he been fucking up being her boyfriend this whole goddamn time?

How the fuck did he miss this?

He’s still processing as she leads him away from Eris and out onto the rink, letting her keep him upright until he gets the hang of it and goes into a sort of auto-pilot; he manages to stay standing, at least, and even if he can’t keep up with her he hasn’t fallen and cracked his screen open in front of a bunch of kids- nieces and nephews of Viv’s, to his understanding. Every once in a while Kora will leave his side to do some fancy spins in the middle of the rink, met with cheers and laughter from everyone nearby, and he feels that familiar pang in his chest that he gets when he looks at her these days.

While he’s distracted Kora skates up to him, a crease in her eyebrow and her mouth turned into a frown- Fuck, he thinks, I’ve fucked it up already.

“Are you okay?” She asks him, and wrings her hands together while her legs keep a steady pace. “I’m sorry for springing that on you- I guess we never really talked about if we were like, telling people about us? I should have asked or something, I’m sorry-” She’s rambling a bit, something that he’s noticed she does when she’s nervous.

“No! No no no,” Vincent interrupts, and guides her over to the side wall where they won’t get run over by any passersby. “I just wasn’t expecting it- everything is fine. I’m perfectly okay with people knowing.”

And he was- he was fine with people knowing, he was fine with the need to ask being taken from his responsibility. There was no reason to fear rejection now, since she had simply announced it as being so. It was a nice change from the girls he had ‘dated’ on Earth, keeping them mostly under wraps from his friends and co-workers and family, not wanting the external pressure of them telling him to settle down when he wasn't ready, before he could move on to the next. Kora was different; she was funny and kind and didn’t take shit from anyone, and she was perfect. He would do everything in his power to make sure that she was happy if she had decided she wanted to be with him.

Her smile was a beam of light, and she places her hands on his chest. “Me too. I want people to know, Vin- you make me happy.”

“Fuck, Goldie, you make me happy, too.” He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her closer, ignoring the cooing and shouts coming from the rest of the people in the rink with them. He knows he’s got to have a stupid expression on his face right now and can’t bring himself to care- he kisses her right there on the skating rink floor with a hand braced on the wall beside them, the other splayed across the small of her back as she presses into him, and he thinks some signals might have gotten crossed when he died because there was no way that he could be this happy and still be in Hell.

Vincent lets himself get pulled into the excitement of a new relationship pretty easily- he holds Kora’s hand as they circle the rink a few times, or she’ll grab hold of his arm and rest her head on his shoulder as they move. They take a break to enjoy a milkshake and he gets to experience that cheesy moment of two straws in a single glass- even if Kora does end up sucking most of it down on her own when he gets distracted by a couple old sinners that fly around the rink like spinning tops and crash into each other in the center of the rink. He can’t bring himself to chastise her about it when she looks so goddamn cute, giving him that look that she knows he can’t fucking resist, so instead he dips his fingers into the remnants of the shake and swipes it down her nose, and her laughter rings in his ears.

Once the mess of the two sinners has been cleared off the floor, the DJ plays something sweet and slow; Kora offers him her hand and he’s powerless to deny her, following her in shaky legs back to the floor. They’re one of a few couples that sway together on the floor, one pair really going above and beyond and throwing one another into grand dips and twirls to the rhythm of the music. But he’s content to rock gently with Kora, his hands on her waist and her head tucked up under his against his chest while the singer croons something about the world being enchanted or some shit.

“You know,” she murmurs against his shirt, “I think Eris might have been trying to flirt with you earlier.”

He chuckles when he looks down at her- she must not have seen or heard the obvious proposition that Eris had given him. “You don’t say.”

“Mmm.” She rolls her skates a little closer. “It’s silly- she was one of my first friends down here before I found Gideon again. Is it bad that I’m a little pleased that she might be kinda jealous right now?”

“Not at all.” In fact, he’s glad- let the bitch be jealous. He’s never heard anything but shit about Eris from Kora even if she was never downright mean. “I’m a fucking catch, baby- if she’s cooking up some jealousy let her stew.”

She smacks him lightly against the chest but laughs, bringing herself as close to his body as she can, and he loves the warmth of her, how she feels held against him and safe in his arms. “Don’t get cocky,” she admonishes, but her tone is affectionate- and that’s allowed now, he realizes, he doesn’t have to pretend like he doesn’t fucking like this woman as much as he does. He’s her fucking boyfriend now.

His returning excitement at that is cut short when the music picks back up again, and a wave of children rushes back onto the floor- they surround him and Kora, and one of them brushes closely enough that Vincent is thrown off balance. He has enough of a mind to take his hands off Kora so he doesn’t take her down with him, and he lands hard on his ass when his ankle turns in a direction it definitely is not supposed to, the wheels taking the foot out from under him entirely. He catches himself, mostly, before he can smack his head off the ground, and from his position on the floor he sees Kora whip a nasty look in the direction of the child that took him out.

Viv, Kora’s boss, is already on it. “Take care of your man,” she calls to Kora, an older imp woman with a thick accent that Vincent can’t place. “And you!”

The child that had knocked him down freezes in his tracks.

“That’s right, Johnny- you get your ass over here so I can hand it to you on a goddamn plate.” The kid has the nerve to look back at him with a glare like its his fucking fault the bastard had used his ankle like a goddamn kickboard for velocity, and he hopes Viv really gives it to the little bastard- his wish is granted when the child slinks off the floor with his tail between his legs and Viv swats him in the back of the head before dragging him over to what he would assume is the kid’s mother.

“Vin? Fuck, are you okay?” Kora is back in his line of sight, her face creased in concern while she helps him to his feet- or foot, rather, since he can’t really stand on the one that twisted. “Damn it- come on, can you balance on one foot? Yeah just like that-” She helps him roll off the floor with one leg held up like a figure skater. He feels a little ridiculous, he’s sure people are laughing at him, a tall, muscular demon with a television for a head being led away like a ballerina by Kora, a little wisp of a Golden Retriever. But he likes her hands all gentle and caring on him, so he lets it- and himself- slide until she can get him close enough to a chair to sit down.

Vincent lets her fuss over him for a bit, but he sees the way that she keeps glancing back at the skating rink as some of the crowd starts to clear out. “Go on, Kora,” he says, nodding at the lit up floor. “I’ll be fine over here on my own- go ahead and get the rest of your skating done, I know you want to.”

She almost looks like she wants to deny it, but sighs and concedes. “Okay,” she agrees, and cups his head in her hands to press a kiss to the top of his screen. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Take your time. I’ll focus on getting these damn things off,” he says, gesturing at his skates. “Have fun, baby.” She offers him a sweet smile and skates backwards back into the fray- just to show off, he’s sure.

“Hey there, handsome.” As soon as Kora has left his side Eris sidles back up into the seat next to him, and Vincent just manages to keep his face from twitching in displeasure. “Kora left ya on your own? That’s not very nice.”

“I’m a grown man,” he tells her, pointedly not making eye contact as he pulls off his skates as gently as he can, wincing in pain when his ankle gives an unhappy twinge that radiates up his leg. “I can handle myself.”

“Grown man? Ha! Looks to me like you’re Kora’s bitch.”

His head whips around to look at her, her gaze directed at the bright pink nails that adorn the ends of her fingers. “Excuse me?”

She shoots him a glance with a nasty smile. “I mean, I’m just a bystander but that’s how it looks- she took ya in and took care of ya for a couple months when ya first got here, that’s what Kora said! And what, ya made dinner and did dishes while she was out workin’? Cleaned up that little apartment of hers?” She hides her giggle- poorly, he notes- behind a wing, her violet eyes sparking with malice. “If she’s the provider- and it looks like she is, with what I know and how she was oh so sweet taking care of you just now- that essentially makes ya the woman of the house.”

“Who gives a fuck?” His blood feels like it’s running slowly through his veins, something hissing in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his father- he tries to ignore it. “First of all, we contribute equally now that I have a job; secondly, this is Hell, nobody cares about that bullshit down here. And what Kora and I do in our relationship is none of your fucking business.”

She holds her hands up as if in defeat. “Easy there, big guy! I’m just sayin’, I figured a man like you woulda been all about makin’ sure his woman was provided for, not the otha' way around.” She glances out onto the floor of the skating rink, where Kora holds hands with an imp child and lets her do little spins and slides, holding her so she doesn’t fall. When she notices them looking she throws a wave in their direction, her smile bright under the reflective lights bouncing off the mirrors that cover the walls. “Kora is a great gal,” Eris continues in a tone that suggests she thinks otherwise, “I’d just hate to see her not gettin’ what she deserves from her man, ya know?” She gives him a sarcastic smile. “That husband of hers wasn’ even fuckin’ her and he was doin’ more for her than you are from what I can see. Step ya game up, yeah?”

She stands from the chair, tail feathers flicking out from over the top of her skirt. “I got shit to do so I’m gonna go- tell sweet thing over there I’ll see her around. And you, of course,” she adds, trailing a hand down his arm before she turns and swans out of the building, a wave thrown over her shoulder at the women she works with on the side of the rink before the door slams shut behind her.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

He doesn’t let himself think about it for a while- at the very least the conversation stays shoved into the back of his mind until he and Kora manage to get home. Rather than cuddling together on the couch like they usually do- and yeah, Vincent had still called it ‘cuddling’ when he thought they weren’t together, but now it was cuddling with a purpose- Kora herds him to the bedroom. Despite his best efforts, she won’t let him strip her of her twirly skirt and get under the covers with him right away. Instead, she helps him to the bed and disappears back to the living area, coming back with a steaming cup of tea that she insists on him drinking. “It’ll help with the swelling, Vin, come on,” and he only agrees to it when she concedes to sit on his lap as he does so. He chugs it, far too fast, but Kora is even faster; she’s up and out of his lap before he takes his last swallow.

“You keep your hands to yourself,” she warns, “or I’ll sleep on the couch.” And he knows that she’ll do it, too, since the woman had no qualms about falling asleep reading on the couch under normal circumstances, let alone those where Vincent wasn’t bending to her will.

“Fine, fine,” he acquiesces, and holds an arm out when she strips down and changes into her pajamas to climb into bed with him. “I’ll behave, promise.”

The glare she shoots him is convincing- especially since not half an hour later she’s squirming in his arms and fogging his screen with the heat of her breath as she rides his fingers, gasping his name in ecstasy- he doesn’t let her reciprocate, doesn’t think he can focus on much else with the insistent twinging pain in his ankle, but he’s happy to make Kora come so she drifts a little easier into sleep beside him.

He’s up for hours after- he reads the book he keeps in his bedside drawer (something written by someone down here in Hell, and it's not as good as the stuff that comes filtered down from upstairs) and tries to focus on the words before him, on Kora’s even breathing at his side, on anything but the hiss of his father’s voice in his head telling him that if he’s not the right kind of man then he’s nothing. It’s not even entirely Eris’s fault, Vincent realized- she had just spoken aloud something that he hadn’t been letting himself think about.

That he was letting Kora down, had been since even before they were properly dating (whenever that had begun).

He had been a leech, letting her take care of him all that time before he had finally gotten a job and started contributing to the apartment. To her apartment, he reminded himself; he helped with the rent and bills but everything was in her name, it was her space, and even if he was her boyfriend now it didn’t sit right with him. Especially with his epiphany this morning- that Kora deserved more than the life they currently had, in this shitty apartment, at her shitty job with Eris as a shitty friend. He wanted to provide for her, give her more than what they had now.

There was no resentment towards Kora herself, of course- it wasn’t her fault that he had taken a back seat, and it seemed like it was just in her nature to be good to people, to help them. He would never begrudge her that, could never blame her for just being herself; that was what he wanted, for her to be happy and not have to worry about things like keeping the lights on or whether they could afford to get ice cream with their groceries.

He glances over at the photo of Gideon on Kora’s nightstand and glares at it. What had he done that was so great that he had even Eris singing his praises? Vincent knew next to nothing about Kora's husband- she was frustratingly tightlipped about who he was as a person, what their lives had been like down here in Hell before he had found the end of an Exorcist's blade. He didn't know what job he held, what money he made or how he contributed to Kora's happiness.

The bat hadn’t deserved her but Vincent would- he would work more hours at the station, rise the ranks, get a good promotion like he had when he was alive. And then Kora could have the afterlife that she should have. She deserved to be spoiled, pampered, to live a life of luxury that they couldn’t have together if Vincent didn’t step his shit up. Maybe it would put a bit of a strain on their relationship for a while, since even now they didn’t have much quality time together, but it would be worth it in the end.

He thinks he can get them into an ideal spot within a year; then he could ease up on his work and focus more on her, spend more time together, fuck to their heart’s content. She wouldn’t have to work, could spend the time he was at the station working on her crafts or reading or doing whatever the fuck she wanted to do. Vincent would take her on vacations, to LuLu World, he would rent out the entire skating rink for her to twirl and spin and dance so he could just admire her and relish in the fact that he had made her so fucking happy.

He watches Kora sleep, her breath even, her nose scrunched up the tiniest bit and her eyebrows furrowed, indicating a nightmare. He pulls her closer into his arms and she calms, settling against him.

Just a year, he thinks, and he finally starts to let his head power off, the light of his screen dimming. Things would be hard for them for a year and then it would all be perfect, like they deserved.

🩵❤️🩵❤️🩵

I am once again presenting on an ethereally lit pedestal my commissioned art from Chef because I will literally never stop talking about how perfect they are

Chapter 1 🩵 Chapter 2 🩵 Chapter 3

#goldenvision #vox x kora #vox x oc #hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #vox smut #vox hazbin hotel #vox fanfiction #literally obsessed with them

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