#i'm in love with this song already and i haven't even heard it yet

[seaofreverie]

Can't wait to hear what Sparks have to say about the rise of influencers

[saeist]

dating a soccer prodigy isn't exactly for the weak.

especially when he's always away for games and even worse, when he lives across the world from you

it was hard at first, obviously. adjusting to the time differences, the long distance and all that. given that the sae itoshi was your first long distance relationship at that

somehow, you two make it work.

it made your relationship even more special whenever he was around. when you actually get to be with him physically and not through a screen

holidays together is another thing. luckily, you aren't too keen with celebrating holidays in general, though there's an exception with celebrating valentines day

throughout your relationship with sae, you had never celebrated valentines day together

yeah sae sends you gifts through the mail, lets you borrow his card for your weekly shopping spree, lets you have a spa day and etc. sae may not be present physically but he relentlessly shows how much he cares about you through gift giving— his love language.

it was valentines day and you had already gotten all your gifts from sae

for this year, sae had gifted you a van cleef jewelry set that matches the color of his hair, 1095 roses bouqet (each rose represents the days you two have been dating) and his recent jersey with his cologne on it

sae can really be romantic if he wanted to

you are now in bed after celebrating love day alone again with sae, who was on the phone

"did you like my gift this year?" you hear him ask through the phone. you let out a hum as you rummage through the giftbox, showing off the green velvet box to the camera

"do i like it? i love it!" you smile widely, "it even matches your hair!"

sae chuckles, watching your face light up like a christmas tree. his heart swoons at the sight. how he wishes that he was with you in that very moment to see your reaction in real time

"had to call every van cleef boutique around the area. heard they sold out fast" sae shares, recalling the time he had to yell at his poor manager to find more van cleef stores that sells that specific color

"i'm sure they had one in case a certain red head soccer prodigy would call at their door" you joke, making sae scoff playfully

"you're pushing it"

"oh, am i?"

sae smiles at the camera before he sighs, muttering "it's so fucking annoying i can't be there right now"

your eyes widen hearing his words that basically translate to "i miss you" and its not all the time you hear sae admit that he misses you

"looks like someone misses me" you say in a sing song voice

sae rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in annoyance

"would you rather have me not miss you? because i think i can do that"

"you just contradicted yourself. you just said you think you can but in reality you can't"

you let out a loud laugh watching his face contort into annoyance. whether he likes it or not, you were right. he can't nor will he be able to do that

sae itoshi loves you so fucking much that he might give you the whole world if he could

"well, i haven't told you my gift for you yet" you bring up, grabbing something from your bedside table

sae raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to elaborate further. you got him a gift?

you show off an envelope. sae cocks his head to the side, what's that for?

"i can't be the only one to have gifts this valentines so this is my gift to you. i'm coming to spain!" you cheer, showing off your plane ticket to madrid

it takes a few seconds for sae to understand everything as he processed your words carefully. sae is a man of a few words so just seeing his reaction was enough for you to feel his excitement with the way he sat up on his bed, eyes wide

"happy valentines, sae. see you soon"

[getaapologist]

Secret Garden, Disregard my Heart.

Yeah. I know. Random. Bound to happen. No, I still haven't seen the movie. Yes, I will very soon. This is a short little thing for (and because of) @glassbxttless (also, I get to see Spiritbox today, so this title is a little nod. And I kind of love a lot of Spiritbox songs for Michael? Maybe if I write more I'll use some others.)

Pairing: Michael x female!reader

Warnings: the gif? no, but seriously; 18+ only, your roommate is willing to help however he can; cuddly sex, breeding kink if you squint

Again, I haven't seen the movie yet, just a series of clips. This is probably so grossly out of character and makes no sense, but it's here. I'm sorry.

Miserable.

That was the best way to sum up your day. Your head felt like a dumbbell, with all the pressure of a balloon on the verge of popping. But there was nothing for it. You just had to wait it out.

There were things you could have tried to alleviate the symptoms, but who on earth had the energy for all that?

No. Vegetating on the couch was the preferred option.

Finding some boring animal documentary, you tucked in, pulling the knit blanket around yourself as you curled up on the couch.

Michael got home from work with a loud clatter as he abandoned his boots by the door, the sound not disturbing you in the slightest. 

He didn’t have a stealthy bone in his body. It was how he lived his life, too, always hopping from one boiling pot into another, using his innate charm to distract and slip out of being caught.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping through the living room. When he didn’t get a response from you, he turned back around, eyes raking over your form. 

The pair of you hadn’t been roommates for all that long, a couple months at this point, but he paid enough attention to know this was unusual.

Tissues on the coffee table, tea gone cold. The way you were curled in on yourself. All clues that he made note of.

He knelt down in front of your sleeping form, his arms on his knees as he watched you, realizing quite quickly that you must not be feeling well.

“Hey, did you take anything yet?”

You didn’t stir.

“Oi,” he spoke gently, breaking through your fever dream, his fingers nudging at your cheek. “You take anything?” he repeated.

“Not yet,” you croaked out, sitting up to look for your glass of water.

He was already thrusting it into your hand, a concerned look in his eyes.

Without a word, he left you there on the couch. Soon, rummaging could be heard in the tiny kitchen.

He returned with some pills he muttered were for the pressure, dropping them into your palm before disappearing back into the kitchen.

In the time it took you to finally sit up on the couch and swallow back the pills, he was able to prepare you a big mug of hot tea, absolutely loaded with honey, and a nice steaming bowl of some canned chicken noodle soup. 

The large tray was set before you on the coffee table. His eyes moved over you, catching on your messy, slept on hair, the way your shirt hung precariously off your shoulder. The way you visibly brightened at the offerings placed before you. 

He scolded himself internally, averting his gaze. “Gonna go shower,” he announced quietly.

Michael was a bit odd. Mostly quiet until you got him talking, he seemed used to keeping to himself. But he had a habit of caring for others. It wasn’t a chore, or even a question. He just did it. 

There were certainly worse men in the world. And he was a fine enough roommate. It just sort of happened. He was a friend of a friend of a friend who just needed a small favor. A month, maybe two. He paid everything on time. His job was stable. 

He liked this new stability, he admitted one night. He didn’t feel quite so anxious. So you told him there was no rush to go anywhere. 

Now there was no deadline. And you allowed yourself to look. 

He was undeniably handsome, filling out his skimpy tank tops in a way that left you a bit warm in the face. If he noticed, he hadn’t said anything yet. And that thin little chain he wore, it was far too delicate for the musculature of his neck and shoulders. Eye-catching, too. Like it was on purpose.

It’s not like you were going to do anything with this blooming attraction.

That would be crazy.

Soup and tea finished off to the best of your ability, you couldn’t deny you felt much better as you laid back down. 

Back and freshly showered, Michael stared down at your pathetic shape on the couch.

“You ought to try to sleep.” His smile was audible in his voice.

“I am,” you argued, curling in tighter.

He laughed, shaking his head, towel still in hand as he rubbed his curls mostly dry. “This couch is not fit for sleeping, believe me.”  

Before you could protest, the towel was tossed aside and he was sliding warm, damp arms beneath your frame. 

“Michael–!”

He picked you up off of the too-small couch effortlessly, as if you were just another of the bins, and carried you upstairs.

“I could have walked,” you grumbled, though you didn’t really mind too much.

Or at all.

He climbed each step so easily. “Didn’t feel like waiting.” A smirk.

His skin was still slightly wet from the shower, the thin tank forcing you to come into contact with it far more than you ever expected as your arms wound  around his neck.

Once he entered the hallway, he branched off left to nudge open your door with his foot. He set you gently down onto your bed, reaching up and wrapping his hand around one of yours, lowering your arm away from his neck and onto your chest. 

His gaze felt heavy, full of care. Care that maybe shouldn’t have been there.

“You gonna want dinner?”

He watched you curl up in the middle of the bed, your knees drawn in, a frown on your face. 

When you didn’t answer, he started to turn to leave. 

As if you’d been preserving all your energy for this one moment, your hand shot out of your blanket cocoon.

Your fingers found his wrist. 

He looked down at you, slight confusion in his expression before his gaze traveled down his arm and along yours, finding your eyes already on his.

Nothing was said. You didn’t know how to articulate what you were really asking for.

He stood stock still as he began making a series of decisions and negotiations in his head. His stare was loaded, full of his racing thoughts.

Are you sure? Do you understand what you’re asking for? Will you regret this? Is it me, or are you just lonely? Is this okay? How far will this go?

Clearly the negotiations went your way, because suddenly he was sliding into bed behind you. The thick knit blanket was tugged away and tossed to the foot of the bed, and he drew the scrunched up comforter over top of the both of you.

He radiated warmth, his big arm falling over your waist, his large hand at your belly drawing you back against his chest. He was still damp from the shower, the thin cotton tank harboring moisture that bled through the back of your shirt.

It felt right. Crazy, but right.

You weren’t blind, even in this haze of sinus pressure, you could appreciate the way his hair curled down over his forehead as he’d carried you up the stairs, the way his big, sad eyes observed you. Always on the verge of being too intense.

And here he was, so tempting, so close. 

It would be nothing to start edging past the point of no return. There was no time to properly weigh the pros and cons. You took a page out of his book and moved on impulse.

Just as he seemed to get comfortable, you nestled into the shape of him, something he picked up on immediately, his hands seizing your hips.

As if he didn’t want this to happen. The image of propriety, of decency.

Because that’s all it was, the image.

“You’re not feeling well,” he explained, as if that was honestly a deterrent. There was a tiny amount of stress woven into his voice.

“I don’t care,” you admitted. “Maybe it’ll help.”

A quiet laugh left his throat. You wanted to turn around to see the smile he must have worn. But the hands on your hips pulled, his own hips pushing up, the friction welcome for both of you.

Quiet gasps. Hands that squeezed, even as yours covered his own.

His lips pressed to your hair. “You really think this’ll help?”

The noise you made wasn’t an answer, and he wasn’t really asking. 

Large hands slid under the hem of the oversized shirt, not an ounce of hesitation lurking in his muscles. They roamed like they’d been shackled all this time and were finally cut loose. The shirt was lifted, pulled almost harshly over your head, staying on the arm pressed into the mattress. 

But it was good enough, as his hands found new skin. 

His own shirt came off easily, thrown aside. 

His breathing quickened into pants, his hips rubbing up on your ass as you pushed back against him. His heart raced as his fingers dived low, beneath the thin shorts, the underwear. He listened to you, his fingers swirling as you tensed beside him.

Could you feel it? he wondered. This superbloom of trust?

His chest pressed so tightly against your back, it felt like he was your second skin, peeling back anytime you separated even an inch.

Beneath the covers, it was stifling, sweat dripping down the back of his knees, the middle of his back, even his arms. He reveled in it. Maybe that’s what you needed. To sweat it out. It couldn’t hurt to try.

Frantic hands pushed your thin shorts and underwear down, past the swell of your ass, down your thighs until you reached down to tug them lower, eventually kicking them off. His own only made it to his knees. But it was enough for this.

Hooking your leg back over his hip, he finally found home, the grunt that tore from his throat sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against your shoulder. His hot breath fanned out over your sweat-slick back. “You are…”

He didn’t finish his thought, instead opting to begin an agonizingly slow rhythm. 

Too slow. Too shallow. 

He could feel your dissatisfaction and smiled against your skin before pushing you over, flat onto your stomach. He stretched over you, reaching past your head for a pillow. 

Finally taking the time to fully remove the underwear tangled around his knees, he allowed himself a moment to look at you, presented for him, pillow raising your hips up just enough. 

Just an hour ago, he was talking himself down, begging himself not to screw this up.

But he didn’t account for you.

He pushed back in, much deeper, the press of his body weight over yours a sufficient distraction from the pounding in your head. 

This. This was what you needed.

His muttered groans in your ear, one of his hands in yours, fingers laced together, crushed against your chest. His lips sometimes pausing their string of curses to press to the skin of your shoulder, the chain he wore tickling your skin, wet with his saliva as it hung in the way.

The forbidden nature of this sent a ripple of pleasure through him. He found himself thinking that this shouldn’t happen again, not until you reached this same level of desperation.

But he knew he was lying to himself. He wouldn’t be able to wait that long. Not with the way your every move filled him with adoration, a desire to protect, preserve.

Maybe this could be his life. Would you accept him? 

As he pushed in as deeply as he could manage, your shrill, breathless sounds heralding the way you clenched around him, he decided he didn’t care. 

He loved too much, too fast. He knew this. But this time, he would make sure you remained with him. He would convince you to love him. He just needed time. 

So he pressed his face into the back of your neck, the sweat there melding with your own, as he succumbed, spilling inside you.

His body was a dead weight over you as you two fought to recover.

“Feeling any better?”

He sounded quite pleased with himself.

You smiled, squeezing the hand clutched to your chest like a precious possession. “Maybe.”

His lips pressed soft kisses across the span of your back. “Could… try again?”

A shiver. 

“...Yeah. Again.”

[sansaorgana]

— SOMEPLACE BETTER (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!human(?)!Reader

SUMMARY — Lady Galadriel keeps convincing Halbrand and his wife to change their minds and go back to Middle-earth but Sauron is starting to realise that this new life might be his chance to start all over and redeem himself.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As I warned, in this part Sauron is very ooc but I'm a sucker for happy endings... I couldn't picture it any other way with a mortal Reader tbh... 🤷🏻‍♀️ Although, whether she is really a human or not – I let you decide and interpret it whatever way you wish! 😉💝 The song The Reader sings in this part is called Lonesome Road and I know it from Joan Baez but I changed the lyrics a little so they could fit the fantasy world better.

WORD COUNT — 4,570

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SOMEPLACE BETTER (III)

Even though he thought Halbrand's wife had given up on him already, it seemed to be quite otherwise. The guards came to Sauron in the early morning to tell him that he was free to go under a condition to never start any fight on the streets of Númenor ever again. Next time, the Queen Regent would not be so merciful. And now, she would even give him a chance to prove his worth and earn the guild crest.

Apparently, (Y/N) had spent nearly the whole night begging and pleading after getting an audience.

Free to go anywhere he wanted to, he simply decided to walk back to his new home and wait there for Lady Galadriel to show up with the next idea or opportunity.

It was not going according to his plan – (Y/N) had made sure of it. But it was still going well enough and that was what mattered the most.

As he was approaching the house, he heard a familiar voice singing a song as the sound travelled through the open windows and out into the streets. The voice perhaps was not the most talented but it was not awful either and he found it oddly soothing to listen to.

Slowly and quietly, Sauron walked inside the house and leaned on the wall with crossed arms as he watched (Y/N) with a smirk. She had her back turned on him and had no idea he was there as she busied herself with brushing her hair in front of a small mirror and preparing to go to her new work.

And while doing so, she was singing. Sauron listened with curiosity because he had missed many new songs in the time when he had been regaining his strength to go back to the world of living.

And he had never been familiar with the songs of common people anyway.

“They say all good friends must part sometime. Why not you and I, my Lord? Why not you and I?” (Y/N) sang softly. “Oh, I wish to the gods that I'd never been born or died when I was a baby, my Lord… Or died when I was a baby,” she added and Sauron swallowed a lump in his throat.

He had no idea he would be able to see himself in a song written by commoners and yet, he sometimes wondered himself why the Valar had created him. And he often wished they had not. It would save him pain and suffering that he was not able to speak of.

“Oh, I wish to the gods that I'd never seen your face, heard your lyin' tongue, my Lord… Heard your lyin' tongue,” (Y/N) kept going with the song as she put some rouge upon her cheeks. “You better look up and down that long, lonesome road where all of your friends have gone, my Lord, and you and I must go…” she continued humming and then she jumped up at the sight of him standing behind her with crossed arms. “Oi, Hal, I haven't seen ye. Forgive me, I know ye don't like it when I sing,” she got nervous in an instant.

“I don't?” Sauron raised an eyebrow, surprised.

“Ye always say it's givin' ye headaches,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Anyhow, I'm off to work now,” she informed him with a sweet smile and approached him to place a kiss upon his cheek.

He let her but when she wanted to move away, he grabbed her wrists to keep her in place and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“What have you done to free me, love?” He asked in a whisper.

“I begged and pleaded for ye, Hal,” she answered. “Told the good Queen ye're naught but a man who wants to work, with a pride that's hurt. I promised ye wouldn't get in trouble again. An' ye better not.” (Y/N)'s eyes filled with pain as if she knew already he would break the promise.

Because Halbrand most likely had broken such promises many times before and Sauron had planned that, too. But now, looking deep into her eyes, he suddenly wanted to change his mind. He did not want to be like Halbrand – he wanted to be a better version of him.

“I don't deserve you,” he admitted and caressed her cheek gently.

“Start, then,” she challenged him with a cracked smile and patted his chest before going out of the house.

And even though Sauron was tempted to stay inside and wait for Lady Galadriel to show up, he walked out as well and went to the forge nearby where he was supposed to start his own training to be able to earn the guild crest.

Humiliating it was and very humbling for the disciple of Aulë to be reduced to the role of a common smith's errand boy.

When Sauron was coming back from work, it was getting dark already. He was walking slowly down the steps and whistling the very same song he had heard earlier that day – the one Halbrand's wife had been singing.

In his hands he was carrying a few coins he had earned on that day and he was playing with them by tossing them in the air and catching them swiftly right after. As he approached the harbour, he spotted (Y/N) standing by one of the wooden tables and selling the goods to the people standing in the queue.

He wondered why she was left alone by the stand but assumed the woman working with her was having a break. And the closer to the market he was getting, the more he could see how stressed Halbrand's wife seemed to be.

“You useless woman, you can't even count properly, can you?!” Sauron heard some man's harsh words due to the fact his hearing was much better than if he was truly human.

“I-I'm sorry, I'm still learnin'. How much do I owe ye, then?” (Y/N) was trying to sound nice.

“You're good for nothing, stupid wench,” the man spat out. “Where is Bellona?”

“She had to leave earlier today. Please, it is no big deal. Let me just give you back the money and–”

“You should go back to Middle-earth where low women like you belong,” the man interrupted her.

Sauron didn't think much in that moment as the primal instincts took over him. He hid his coins away and hurried to (Y/N)'s stand as he grabbed the rude man by his tunic and turned him around.

“Are you bothering my wife?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Hal!” (Y/N) squealed, looking nervously at the guards that were already coming their way after sensing trouble. “Let go of him, I beg ye! Ye promised me ye wouldn't–”

“Oh, but it's different, is it not? This man deserves it,” Sauron hissed out and when he was sure that (Y/N) kept glancing at the guards, he allowed his eyes to transform into two snake-like orbs that visibly terrified the rude man.

Sauron let go of his tunic the moment he heard the guards standing behind him and the man hurried away as quickly as possible.

“It's nothin', it's nothin'!” (Y/N) exclaimed at the guards. “I'm closin' for the day! Please, let us go.”

The men looked at each other but since the other man had run away and did not file any complaint, they just shrugged their arms and walked away alongside the rest of the people waiting in the queue.

“Ye promised!” (Y/N) gave Sauron a very scolding look as she busied herself with tidying up the stand and collecting the money.

“If you think I am going to let some bastard treat you this way, love, then you are mistaken. If I must rot in that cell for a lifetime, then I shall,” Sauron shrugged his arms and Halbrand's wife looked at him as if he had just said something crazy.

“Since when are ye so gifted with words, Hal?” She chuckled and shook her head. “Anyhow, in that cell, ye won't be 'round to protect me. Foolish, it'd be, but ye've never been the brightest, have ye?” she pointed out and Sauron gritted his teeth with an eye roll.

She kept blabbering to him about her day while they walked back to their house and even though it was a short road, it felt like forever due to her talking. However, Sauron was very surprised at the sight of Lady Galadriel sitting by the table when they entered the house.

He had been waiting for her to come and now he was shocked, nearly startled. As if he had forgotten already about his scheme.

“Oi!” (Y/N) put her hands on her hips. “Is it not illegal to sneak up on folk like that inside their own homes, Elf?!” She asked. “When'll ye leave us be, huh?”

“The Queen Regent agreed to gather the army. They will seek for the volunteers,” Galadriel announced. “People of Númenor might not need you, Halbrand, but when we arrive in The Southlands, a strong leader will be needed. Someone to unite and show the way.”

“Someone to lie, ye say,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and finally closed the door behind her. “But go on, Elf, keep talkin'. I'm sure my husband'll agree sooner or later. Vain as he is, always has been,” she sighed as if she was defeated.

Sauron felt an odd tug inside his heart at those words. Even though going with Galadriel to Middle-earth and continuing his plan while leaving annoying (Y/N) behind would be an ideal outcome… He felt challenged now to refuse Galadriel just to show (Y/N) that he could do better than that.

“I have already told the Queen Regent who you most likely are,” Galadriel insisted, ignoring Halbrand's wife and looking deep into his eyes.

“You must be desperate,” he pointed out with a smirk and watched his angry wife unpacking the groceries from her wicker basket on the kitchen counter.

“Of course I am. And you should be, too. It is about your home. Why do you give up on it so easily?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It gave up on us long before we ever gave up on it,” (Y/N) turned around to answer her.

“This land was your place in Middle-earth. It was giving you vegetables to eat, grass to feed your animals with, clean water from the rivers…” Lady Galadriel pointed out.

“And what do ye know about it, grand Elf?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes at that. “It ain't easy work growin' yer vegetables an' keepin' yer animals alive. One bad winter's all it takes to take away yer loved ones, yer cows, horses, an' chickens. I've no love for that land,” she stated, harshly.

“You can change the fate of people who suffer like you have suffered…” Galadriel's voice softened. “As their Queen,” she tempted and Sauron raised an eyebrow, surprised to see how dirty she could play.

Nearly as dirty as him.

“Me? A Queen?” (Y/N) laughed at that. “I can't even read!” She only said and turned around again to deal with the groceries.

“Halbrand, please. They need you,” Galadriel stood up and put her hand on his shoulder before lowering her voice. “I need you,” she added and looked down before leaving the house quietly.

Long silence occurred between Sauron and Halbrand's wife.

“Go with her,” (Y/N) muttered.

“What?” Sauron looked at her, surprised. She turned around to lay her wet eyes on him.

“I know ye want to. Just go, claim the title that's not yours, go on. But don't be stupid enough to think she'd ever want ye the way ye want her. Please, husband, don't embarrass yerself by thinkin' she'd want a filthy, ragged commoner,” (Y/N) whispered but in her voice there was no malice – it was pure worry and concern. Love.

“I'm not that stupid,” Sauron approached her with hesitance and put his hands on her arms to comfort her. “I know you're the only woman who is crazy enough to love me.”

“But is that enough to make ye stay?” She asked and her lower lip trembled.

He did not answer but he pulled her close to his chest to wrap his arms around her and kiss the top of her head.

Sauron was laying awake all night long as usual, caressing the back of Halbrand's wife and staring at the ceiling. He knew they would gather the volunteers on the next day and he still was not sure what to do.

The path he had chosen for himself was not so certain anymore. He truly did not mind the life he had here in Númenor and even (Y/N)'s presence was becoming less and less annoying to him. In fact – even though she had no idea who he truly was – it felt oddly nice to be loved and taken care of. As simple as that.

He extended his hand to the nightstand and brushed the pendant laying there with his fingertips as he remembered the very first conversation he had had with the heraldry's original owner – Diarmid.

“A sure path may crumble, but there's always another. Often, it can lead us someplace better. Someplace good. They say there's a place across the sea, a man can escape himself. Find another path. Perhaps another life.”

What if it was a second chance for him? Not for Sauron, but for the real him – Mairon…? What if it was his chance to get redeemed? To be at peace finally as if all the suffering Morgoth had put him through had never taken place?

(Y/N) shifted slightly in his arms and he looked down at her face that was now lit up by the first rays of the rising sun getting through the window. At that moment, that common and simple woman looked like the most beautiful creature in the whole world to him. And she certainly felt like peace.

“Is it time to wake up now, love?” She mumbled out, sleepily.

“No, love, not yet. I will tell you when,” he assured her.

“Good,” she smiled and nuzzled her face deeper into him.

“(Y/N)?” Sauron swallowed a lump in his throat as he fidgeted with the pendant between his fingers.

“Hm?”

“What if I told you I was not your husband?” He tried to make it sound light-hearted as if he was jesting. “That I'm a spirit that took over his body at that time when he was away while the village was being attacked?” He looked down at her, nervously.

“Ye're crazy, Hal,” she chuckled and opened her eyes lazily. Then, she tilted her head and reached her hand up to caress his hair. “But, mayhaps, I'd believe that, ye know? 'Cause ye've changed a lot since then,” she admitted and hesitated for a moment as she bit on her lower lip. “It doesn't matter, love. I love ye the way ye are now – more than I've ever loved ye, even though I didn't think it was possible,” she confessed and Sauron felt his heart swelling inside his chest as he leaned down to join their lips together in a loving kiss.

As he watched the ships sail away on that day, Sauron couldn't believe that he was simply letting them go. He saw Lady Galadriel standing in her shining armour, holding her sword. She was still glancing at him as if she expected him to jump into the waters and join them no matter what.

He wondered why she was so drawn to him, even after (Y/N)'s big mouth had made it clear that he was not any forgotten king. Could Galadriel feel who he was, deep inside?

But who was he? He was not sure anymore.

So, he looked away and went back on the road that would lead him to the forge where he worked these days. He was told he would get his guild crest very soon because they were in awe of his extraordinary talents.

Not only talent was his quality, though. It was also how much he was able to work at once and without breaks. At least it had been this way until recently.

It was the first time ever when he felt… tired. In the simplest and most common way, he felt exhausted and his stomach seemed to demand to have a meal. He nearly fainted at the end of his shift and when he dragged his feet back home, he was yawning. Surely, it would worry him under any other circumstances but now he was simply too tired to overthink what could have caused it. Was it some sort of a curse put on him by angry Lady Galadriel?

“Halbrand!” (Y/N)'s worried tone brought him back to reality when he entered the house.

She hurried to him and cupped his cheeks with widened eyes.

“Love, ye're so pale, an' the bags under yer eyes… What happened?!”

“Nothing happened,” Sauron shrugged his arms. “I'm just tired, that's it. I nearly fainted,” he admitted and sat down on the chair, sighing out of relief to finally be able to rest a little.

“Well, that's no wonder! Ye've been eatin' half meals for weeks now!” Halbrand's wife pointed out in a scolding manner. “We're not starvin' anymore, Hal, ye don't have to keep givin' me yer portions!” She exclaimed and approached the stove to pour him a bowl full of soup. “Here, eat,” she ordered as she placed it in front of him.

And, for some reason, Sauron ate all of it in a blink of an eye. He even asked for one more portion as Halbrand's wife gave it to him gladly but not without more of her whining about him being irresponsible. Then he asked for another and after three bowls of her soup, he finally felt better.

His stomach was no longer hurting at least, but he was still sleepy.

“Go, take some rest, love,” (Y/N) shook her head. “Ye don't sleep enough, don't eat enough. At least ye're not drinkin' and gamblin' anymore, but ye can't go on like this. Do ye want to die before forty, Hal? I ain't lettin' that happen!” She continued with her usual whining and he rolled his eyes.

“How can I rest when you keep your mouth open?!” Sauron asked and she huffed but she went silent and left him alone in the bedroom as she went back to the kitchen to clean the bowl after his soup.

It was the very first time when Sauron fell asleep not out of boredom or the need of dissociation but out of exhaustion.

And when he opened his eyes again, it was the next morning already and (Y/N) was shaking him to wake him up.

“Halbrand! Ye're gonna be late for work!” She exclaimed.

“But… I'm still tired…” He mumbled out, not understanding what was happening to him.

“Like all of us working folk each mornin'!” (Y/N) laughed. “Come on, I'm not lettin' ye out without breakfast, go to the kitchen,” she hurried him and he rubbed his eyes before nodding at her.

Sauron began to suspect that he was turning into a human for some time now but it took an unusual revelation to convince him that it was truly happening indeed.

(Y/N) was grinning widely on that day when he came back home and she welcomed him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him all over his face as he tried to give back some of the kisses. When she finally stopped, she fixed his brand new guild crest and batted her eyelashes while looking up to stare into his eyes.

“What is it?” He asked.

“I think I'm expectin', Hal,” she told him, excitedly. “I wasn't sure but my friends at work said those are the very symptoms!” She added happily and he froze as he blinked slowly a few times, trying to process the new information.

“That is… Impossible,” he furrowed his brows.

“I used to think so, too. Married for so long with no babe of our own but I was wishin' and hopin' and here we are!” She clapped her hands like an excited child. “Perhaps it was that damned Middle-earth not being good for us, Hal, but here we can!”

Sauron took a deep breath in. She didn't understand – it was not about being fertile or not. It was about the fact he was a Maia and there was no possibility of him putting a baby in her without doing it with his own free will.

Unless…

“You're not sleeping around, are you?” He asked before he could think about the rubbish leaving his mouth.

(Y/N) froze at his words and her smile turned into a frown. She approached him at this very moment and slapped his face. Hard. He could feel it like any mortal would now and he admitted it truly hurt.

“How dare ye, Halbrand?! Ye wretched bastard! Even if ye meant to jest, that was uncalled for!” She raised her voice as he rubbed his cheek and winced out of pain.

“I'm sorry, love, I haven't thought before speaking. I just can't believe it…” He tried to excuse himself. “Please, forgive me.”

Her face didn't look so angry anymore but she didn't say anything and turned around without a word to walk away.

In fact, she didn't say a word to him for the rest of the day and only at night when she was deep asleep, he dared to touch her abdomen slightly with his hand.

He wasn't able to feel any presence there but these days he couldn't feel anything, to be honest. He couldn't hear nor see as much either. He was losing his abilities as time was passing.

Sauron kept his hand there, on the belly of Halbrand's wife, and he sighed. It was happening, whether he liked it or not. And he was not even sure anymore if he wanted it or not.

As he got lost in the train of thought, he realised that he had been caressing (Y/N) abdomen all that time without thinking. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled gently at him.

“Hal, ye son of a bitch,” she shook her head and giggled as she took his hand carefully and brought it to her lips to place a few small and sweet kisses upon his knuckles. “I swear, ye're gonna be the death of me.”

“And you are going to be the death of me,” he chuckled and leaned in to peck her lips.

She was going to be. Literally.

This body would start growing old normally now and, eventually, he would pass away like every mortal. But maybe he would do that laying in a bed, holding her hand and surrounded by their children.

When they broke the kiss, (Y/N) smiled widely and caressed her husband's cheeks lovingly. She looked ethereal at that moment and a crazy thought appeared inside of his head.

“Tell me, love,” he started and she raised an eyebrow at him, “are you a spirit sent to me from Valinor to lead me back on the right path? Have I passed the test?” He dared to ask and he could swear, there was a small sparkle lighting up her eyes for a short while. But then, she only laughed.

“Go back to sleep, ye madman,” she patted his chest lightly and turned around while laughing softly.

He kept staring at her for some time more, then he went back to looking at the ceiling. And, eventually, he turned around as well to wrap his arm around the waist of Halbrand's wife.

His wife.

Halbrand was coming back from work slowly while playing with the little horse forged out of iron in his hand as he hummed a song. The sun was setting slowly on the horizon when he approached the harbour where (Y/N) was slowly tidying up her stand on the market.

Her own one, that she had earned finally and was so proud of it as she was working for herself now and was able to bring more money home.

He watched her tidy up with a loving smile and their son was helping her while talking to her excitedly about something – his mouth would never close just like his mother's.

“Daddy!” He spotted him finally and ran up to him as (Y/N) chuckled.

“Hey, little man,” Halbrand crouched down to give his son a hug. “How was your day?”

“It was good!” The boy nodded. “I helped mummy a bit. And yours, daddy?”

“I made this for you,” Halbrand handed him the little horse and the boys' eyes sparkled at the sight.

“So pretty! Thank you, daddy!” He wrapped his little arms around Halbrand's neck to give him another hug and Halbrand patted his back.

“And for me?! For me?!” He felt something tugging at his tunic and he laughed at the sight of his excited daughter. He gave her a hug, too and caressed her ruffled hair as she gave him a toothless smile.

“I have something for you, too, Princess,” Halbrand assured her and took another item out of his pocket – a seashell made out of iron.

He had made sure it was crafted with the best precision and with all the tiny details, therefore it looked nearly like a real seashell. Only it was silver, which made it even better in his little girl's eyes.

“Thank you, daddy!” She giggled as she squinted her eyes at the shell and kept examining it under every possible angle.

“You spoil 'em way too much!” (Y/N) stood above him and he stood up to greet her with a short peck on the cheek.

“Somebody has to,” Halbrand answered playfully and his wife shot him a glance, which made his son giggle.

“Stop sayin' nonsense and let's go back home,” she shook her head and walked away slowly.

He watched his children follow her happily and he did, too, but much slower as he stared at the sun setting on the horizon. The sky looked like a canva full of pink and orange hues and he took a deep breath in at the beauty of it.

It was nearly as peaceful and beautiful as back in the day in Valinor. Mortals perhaps were not welcome there but, apparently, they could also experience wonders as marvellous.

And perhaps this whole life was built on a lie because he couldn't imagine telling (Y/N) the truth about who he truly was and that her real husband had been dead for years. That he had died because of gambling and drinking after leaving her alone when she was being attacked by the Orcs. There was no point in telling her even if she would somehow believe him. It would only bring her useless pain and he knew very well that her actual husband would most likely never do all these things he had done to make her happy. He would not love her right like he could.

“Ye comin', Hal?” His wife's voice brought him back to reality.

Halbrand nodded at her and joined her side to take his daughter by her little hand.

After all, it was not the sunset but her and her brother that were the real wonders. And it was not Númenor that he called home but it was them – they were his better place.

MASTERLIST

[satubby]

[Once upon a dream: When I loved you]

[Once upon a dream, where I saw you sleeping in my arms, I'm starting to forget what loneliness is, my beautiful human baby... Child of man, is this what you call love? If so, I'm afraid of losing you and this feeling. —Malleus Draconia ]

Disclamer: I was listening to my usual music and I don't know why but YouTube recommended old songs that I gave a like to, so among them was One Upon a Dream, which led me to rewatch the 2014 Live Action based on Maleficent. and from there to doing this, anyway I'm sorry if there are spelling mistakes and as such I'm sorry if the characters in Diasomnia look like those in Oc I haven't played in a long time and I left the fandom due to lack of time and interest.

[This writing will have 2 parts, the second I will be thinking about how to do it and if it will have Lana del Rey's song, this time I put Cinderella's song, I'm sorry lol!]

It was a rainy night, a woman escaped from her pursuers and was carrying her baby in her arms. "Catch that bitch! She deserves to be punished for witchcraft!" 

The strange and mysterious woman ran faster than before when she heard the scream of those guards. How did she end up like this? She wondered, not long ago she was a happy woman, the prince loved her as she loved him, yet his stepmother the dowager empress, discovered her elven blood, which was considered blasphemy. She never asked to be singled out, even her pregnancy was a constant danger. 

From where did it all go wrong? It wasn't her fault or her baby in arms that the human world hates magical beings given how greedy they are, especially noble ones like her stepmother who called her a bastard abomination. 

Arinet, bastard daughter of the duke belonging to the south and daughter of a winter elf, was now nothing more than a heretic cursed and hated for the blood that ran in her veins. And she blamed herself for being foolish to believe that the dowager empress and her own stepmother would not conspire to ruin her romance with the crown prince.

Crying she coos trying to calm you down you in her arms, her precious baby, in tears she gave you one last kiss as she continued to run away from the gunfire coming from the archers and the duke's mages, falling down a through a snowy well, she smiled for the last time and left you hidden from the hunters who followed her, if she died it would not be with you, so she said goodbye crying and with the little strength in her feet, she ran despite her ankle pierced by the tip of the arrow shot before. 

Malleus was walking through the dreary paths of his forest full of thorns and dry trees covered with seasonal snow, it was another dull morning and the old black dragon, prince of fairies and dragons, was bored. When was the last time this forest had anything interesting beyond its creatures fearing him? He doesn't remember, yet his thoughts are broken when he hears a cry, more precisely, the cry of a small human baby, an offspring of man. Then his bare feet on the cold snow traversed like a dance in the snow, walking towards you he approached your basket, taking you from it curiously but awkwardly, whoever put you there did not measure the coldness of his forest, he was unaffected given his nature and body, Malleus was already warm on his own. 

Emerald eyes narrow slightly at the sight of you. He carefully and lightly touches your cheek with one of his sharp nails, accidentally giving you a scratch so he uses his magic to heal it. He've never seen a baby up close before, the ones he saw were many, different and weirder, but you're even more so given that human nature of yours. And him have no idea how to handle the situation. He lifts you up to his eye level... you look pretty upset about being out in the cold and he doesn't blame you for it, even your tender cotton cheeks were ruddy. 

"I wonder... What exactly are you? The humans I know are bigger than you." Malleus mutters under his breath as he looks towards you still trying to be careful. He can sense that you have a special thing, in fact he smells traces of magic on you, but that confuses him even more as to why you, a frail, human little thing of all things... are in the woods in the middle of the cold. 

Curiosity filled his being as he looked at you, you a small being resting in his big arms, sleeping as if he were not the dominant creature in this territory. He was confused. You are a human baby so... small that you could easily be killed by accident, could this little thing be so cute? As far as he knew, humans are ungraceful or so he was told, plus the fact that he has killed some fools daring to enter his lands. He gently used a finger to touch your little nose. So cute you looked! He was also intrigued. Why did they leave you, so small and vulnerable in their forest? And alone, with no one to hold and care for you. You would become food for vultures or some other monster very quickly.

Malleus looked around looking for the human responsible who has left you abandoned, however instead his nose detected a smell of iron and acrid mixed with traces of magic.... It was blood of the child of man, so walking with you, even if clumsily, he cradles you in his arms they go towards the place where the trail was, strangely on the way you didn't cry, in fact, you even fell asleep comfortably.

Normally everyone is afraid of him, although it is normal given his status but that makes him socially awkward and lonely, maybe that's why he unconsciously clung to you. Malleus then arrives at the place where that iron smell came from, finding the corpse of your mother, a beautiful woman but... The old dragon prince notices that she was stabbed several times and until her last minutes of life she fought. In addition there were traces of magic thrown, from elves more specifically although it does not give him so much importance; he bends down and takes a sample of blood, licking it from the snowy ground— This woman had Mana, like you, so he assumed it was your mother as you had the same bracelet as the woman as well as the same smell of that magic.

Malleus stares at the deceased woman with? something like a sad look in his vibrant green eyes. You moan slightly with a groan as you stir, but go back to sleep a few minutes later. Malleus' long tail wags behind him as he thinks, frowning slightly. He looks down at you in his arms, then at the strange looking woman, she has white hair and apparently blue eyes, plus somewhat pointed ears. Malleus knelt down next to her lifeless corpse, carefully analyzing the bracelet, it had elvish letters which read: "The eternal and pure shall remain, the evil and impure must be purged" And honestly he didn't understand what the engraving meant, so he just leaves it there. 

"A human mother and daughter abandoned in the forest.... Who would do such a heartless thing...?" His gaze hardens as he look around the area, trying to find any clues left behind, but there was nothing. He looks closely at the wounds on the body and notices every feature your mother shared with you, from the lips to your beauty, he couldn't help but be distracted from his goal. 

"She died protecting you, little daughter of man.... Now I understand her determination and strength. If I'm honest, she was no ordinary human, too bad that led to her cruel fate." Malleus gently touches your cheek wiping the drool running from your lips, you were still asleep.

There was a mixture of curiosity and a strange sense of melancholy in the eyes of the ancient being. His eyes sparkled as he recognized the faint traces of mana lingering in the air, mixed with the unmistakable scent of mingled human and elven blood, definitely the children of man were hard for the old dragon to comprehend.

"What a waste. A mortal life, snuffed out by the callousness of other humans."

He spoke softly, almost wistfully, his voice tinged with a touch of what seemed like sadness, though he did not understand it. He stood thoughtfully for a moment, then, sighing, he closes his eyes to the woman's corpse and with his green magic breath, casts a living flame that burns away all traces of your dead mother.

"Rest in peace daughter of man and nature, I will take care of your human baby." 

Then he withdraws with you in his arms, he doesn't know much about humans, in fact he hasn't even seen one in 400 years, yet his curiosity and compassion made him act like that [perhaps the fact that you, a small and fragile thing, managed to move something in him beyond indifference and boredom] Then he saw you sleeping, he smiled softly.... What a curious little thing you were.

Upon arriving at his castle, he was greeted by Lilia, his guardian and close friend, as a father figure to Malleus even though he is already an adult in dragon terms.

 Lilia approached smiling and playful, although he noticed the bundle in Malleus' arms, as a father figure and royal advisor, he was curious.... How unusual for his little Malleus. "Oh, I see you brought something interesting from the forest, hehehe, tell me, did lonely little Malleus get bored with himself and decide to bring a little human?" Lilia teased, however Malleus just snorted smiling at his advisor and guardian, still holding you in his arms.

The prince of Briar Valley had chuckled quietly at Lilia's comment as he walked carefully towards him, his expression was calm and the tail dragon wagged back and forth behind Malleus himself, revealing his mood. Lilia always teased him when he was bored with his normal routine.

"Hm, this... 'little human' was abandoned in the forest by her mother, I thought she would surely become dinner for a wandering monster. I was also curious to know what human cubs are like, I see they are fragile to be greedy when they reach adulthood."

Malleus mutters under his breath, his eyes moving quickly to look at the baby again as he sleeps soundly in his arms.

Lilia was really surprised, normally his little Mall showed no interest in anything and was very socially awkward, but here he was hugging you, a small and fragile little thing. Lilia fell from the ceiling of the throne room, like an ingratiating acrobat he sat up and then sighed the veteran fairy, speaking earnestly before his king and pupil. 

"Your Majesty, you know that raising another living being, especially a human, who is different from us in terms of biology and growth, is not easy at all so tell me your highness? Do you really plan to raise that human baby, YOU who barely even know about them, beyond the times they have tried to invade our lands? I really sometimes don't know what you think Mall" Lilia sighed looking seriously at the dragon, Malleus lifted you up in the air looking at you still sleeping, you looked so... soft and tender. You would be a beautiful girl. Mall raised an eyebrow at Lilia for his comments. 

"I am perfectly aware of that, Lilia. A fairy and a human child... a combination that I know very well will take time to understand..... She is more resilient than you think. But I cannot leave this baby alone, she was abandoned by her own mother. Such a cruel fate for an offspring of man." 

His eyes shifted down to look at you as your small body shifted restlessly in his arms, sighing again, he cradles you in his arms once more. Malleus smiles softly.

Lilia sighed again, smiling and shrugging his shoulders surrendering to the blackhaired prince's stubbornness. He then walked over to you to look at you, you were certainly pretty, though as Malleus said, you had magic that was rare in humans, so Lilia asked his king and pupil, "Malleus, tell me something, do you know what it's like to raise a human? The consequences of it are something with variables and they age fast, besides you are sure to do it, from what you told me his mother had magic.... What did she look like, eyes and hair color?" 

The dragon did not understand at first as he was dense at times, but then he understood what she meant, Lilia was asking the race of that human, if she was one and she certainly was not— Your mother was a half elf, a very beautiful one with white hair and blue eyes, perhaps that is why she was killed and in a desperate attempt to protect you both, she ran to her lands seeking to return home. So far he was able to piece together conjectures, his density and disinterest sometimes blinded him.

Malleus thought for a moment, studying your face, trying to find any resemblance you might have to your mother beyond your features but you looked more human. The old dragon prince hummed thoughtfully before finally speaking.

"She... was a half elf if I am correct. Her hair was soft and like a white flake.... Plus her eyes were a beautiful light blue color. But she also had magic, as strong as she may have been, the poor woman was outnumbered and killed for unknown reasons."

He looks towards you who were still sleeping once more as he spoke, his eyes soft as he recalls the memory of the woman.

Lilia analyzes the situation and then asks one more question. "How do you plan to take care of her? Sooner or later she will have to return to her homeland, is that okay with you? You know that the magical races and humans have accomplished nothing together for centuries and their traces of disdain still remain? So, be honest, my dear prince, how long do you plan to keep her here? Surely sooner or later you will get bored."

Lilia saw Malleus' expression, there were many emotions clashing and the veteran fairy smiled, he just needed a little push and Lilia would be sure that his beloved ward would understand the implications of this... What would Malleus do, the ever shy dragon monarch and the one who longs to know human emotions and humans themselves?

Malleus looked conflicted as he listened to Lilia's question. He knew there was tension between the races and he also knew it would be difficult for you to return home after being raised here. But him simply could not allow you to suffer, you were innocent. His green eyes shifted from Lilia to you, a small frown on his face debating his decisions.

"I'm... not entirely sure. If he goes home, I'm worried he'll never fit in with his own people.... And if he stays here, will he have a happy life?"

Lilia smiled and honestly, it wasn't bad that his beloved monarch and prince for once longed to have something, whether he was aware of it or not, that's why Lilia asked such a question. He wanted to see how far his pupil's interest would go. Would it be temporary or could you, a fragile little thing, really awaken something more in the bored and shy prince of thorns? The mere thought excited the former Fae.

Malleus let out a soft sigh as he lifted you closer to his chest, your small face was warm and soft to the touch, that little body fit perfectly like a puzzle piece in his arms. He felt something in his heart that wasn't there before as he looked at you, a strange feeling of responsibility, of protection, maybe even a hint of affection? He wasn't sure, he had never been close to a baby before, let alone a human like you were. 

"I don't want her to suffer the same fate as her mother..."

Lilia clapped his hands and smiled, there was a long way to go. "Very well Your Highness, let's learn about humans and especially about their offspring, breeding and feeding!" 

That afternoon Malleus was educated on what things they should and should not eat, down to the basic necessities. Malleus wrote everything down in his mind and would then apply it even though he still had doubts.

Malleus listened attentively as Lilia explained things, taking detailed notes in his mind of everything he told him. He was a fast learner and quickly remembered every detail. As Lilia spoke, the dragon prince gently ran a finger across your forehead, gently stroking the baby skin with an expression of slight amazement on his face. In a little over a year you will be able to walk, talk and think. Malleus couldn't believe how wonderful humans could be .... Or was it that you were just a unique baby?

And over the next few days Malleus did all sorts of things that no one would think possible coming from his royal highness and mighty dragon, but there he was changing diapers. "No! Be careful, don't you see? You're irritating her skin, though it's rare that she doesn't cry from your rough touch, anyway, look at tying a diaper!" Lilia pushed Malleus aside and changed your clothes, playing a little with you, making you laugh, but this was a simple provocation on the fairy's part, he wanted to see how Malleus would react to this and indeed, the dragon became jealous of his former tutor. 

Lilia turned as he saw Malleus' green eyes glowing, after finishing your change of clothes, he handed you over to the dark prince. "I assure you that you will improve with time and practice as I won't always be here!" 

Malleus watched as Lilia deftly changed your diaper, baby laughter filled the room as the old fae made you laugh. The dragon was a little puzzled to see Lilia do something with such ease, he even felt a little jealous for some reason, as he wanted to make you laugh too, but you just looked at him curiously. He let out a small snort as Lilia handed you over, looking at you and studying your face again, he was still clumsy in grabbing you. 

"TSK! TSK! Look how stiff you are, you should carry her more gently" The fae scolded his monarch and prince who grumbled like a child pouting softly. 

"I'm a fast learner, Lilia. Don't underestimate me..."

Lilia scoffed with laughter, his little Malleus was really cute in his own way [Of course if Lilia wasn't aware of his immense influence and power] At the dragon prince's frown, Lilia playfully apologized and raised his hands in peace. 

"I know, my dear prince, but you must be careful! You wouldn't want the little one to cry, would you? Well, leaving that aside, come to think of it, you haven't given her a name have you, you, do you want to give her one?" Lilia noted this, for several weeks now you had been called 'Child of Man' or 'Little Human' and if the Fae were honest, they can't always call you that, names are important though given Malleus' own obliviousness, he hadn't even noticed until his advisor and former guardian pointed it out to him. 

The fae-dragon sighed, squeezing into his embrace and widening his eyes in confusion when Lilia pointed that out. You would definitely need to be given a name of your own, and they couldn't always call you the man's daughter... or little girl. 

"Hm, I guess you're right... what do humans normally call their children? I don't want to accidentally give it a name that has an unfavorable meaning..."

Malleus was somewhat (perhaps too much) unaware and sometimes his naivety with humans or other races that are not dragons or Faes, are unknown to him (either in customs, ways of acting or physiology). Leaving aside that sometimes he himself prince was carried away by rumors or experiences of his own. "I don't know, but what do you think.... (T/N), sounds nice, means timeless and infinite." Advised the old Fae as Malleus looked at you, you were playing with his fingers sticking them into your mouth.

Malleus hummed curiously as he listened to Lilia's suggestion, raising his hand to gently touch the top of your head, letting you cling to his fingers as he continued to think... the name '(T/N)', sounds good... he thought. Then he looked at you, watching you play innocently with his fingers as you looked at the old dragon.

"(T/N)... (T/N)... yeah, yeah, that sounds pretty good..... (T/N), then."

That day Malleus finally gave you a name, which would be one of the first signs that his curiosity would turn into love and love into obsession.

It had been 5 years, for Malleus this was nothing, as he sometimes has long periods of sleep (of course Lilia would wake him up to avoid sleeping more) Otherwise your growth would be lost and since Malleus loves you too much, the prince of Briar Valley did not want to miss anything about you, that included your growth stages.

"She do grow up fast, I can hardly remember what her was like yesterday!" Lilia complained dramatically but Malleus, who was drinking his tea, put down his cup and smiled softly as he watched you play in the garden. From large your beauty was remarkable, unbeknownst to you, you made more than just the barren thorn garden bloom in his heart. 

Malleus smiled slightly as he watched you play in the garden, admiring the way you made the normally withered and barren garden come alive with your presence. He had certainly grown fonder of you over the past few years, watching you grow and learn new things always made him smile. He looked at Lilia with a loving smile on his face.

"In fact, Lilia... it seems like only yesterday that I found her in the forest... now she's growing with each passing day."

Lilia put his hands under his chin, watching you play and make wreaths, it's been a while since Briar Valley had this warm and colorful atmosphere. "Don't you think humans are kind of interesting and chaotic? By the way, our little girl will soon be 6 years old, what do you plan to do? The past years you gave her many a gift, but oh my little Mall! Remember that unicorn you gave her didn't even last because your jealousy won the battle?, poor creature, they ran as soon as you came angry at them" He chuckled, in the end Malleus was attached to his dragon nature more than his Fae half, as much as this one wanted to deny it. 

The prince of Briar Valley let out a small snort at the memory. He had indeed become jealous of the unicorn, and it wasn't the only time either.... Every time you got a new toy or friend from the animal world, he got so possessive that he couldn't help it. He sighed. silently as he thought for a moment before responding....

"Hm, I'm actually very aware of my little human birthday... like you said though, this time I want to do something special for her, but I have no idea what to give her."

The old fae laughed and responded with another question to the dragon prince's confusion. "And what do you think you can give him this time? It can't be something living or something non-living, since you get jealous over anything, like the time you 'accidentally' burned one of her favorite toys with your fire because it took her attention away from you." Lilia fiddled with the fork and Malleus coughed his tea, avoiding looking at the fae who teased him about his extreme behaviors. 

Since he was just processing centuries of emotional numbness and you were the one who awakened those experiences and emotions in him, it was difficult for him not to go to such extremes. 

The black-haired man snorted at Lilia's words as he looked away. It was true that he was extremely possessive of you and would get jealous of anything that caught your attention.... But he couldn't help it. The dragon sighed softly and closed his eyes, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment about a solution to this.

"Hm... How about... a new toy, but only she can touch it? Sounds like a good solution, doesn't it?" Malleus asked thinking it would be ideal but Lilia made a face almost as if to say 'Are you seriously thinking about that?' and answers him with another question.

"How are you sure you're not going to burn it or destroy it? It's funny to a point that you destroy his stuff out of jealousy, but (T/N) he doesn't find it funny. I have an idea! How about you take it to the meadow mmm? Flowers are beautiful and safe, you can't get jealous if they are symbols of love. You know, you always keep her cooped up here, the royal garden is beautiful and the castle too, but remember, kids are curious and like to explore, you used to do that when you were a little lizard." 

Malleus sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the ramblings of Lilia who boasted about how beautiful and tender the dragon prince was before he grew up. On the other hand, you approached towards them smiling and showing a butterfly in your hand.

 "Tsunotarou, look how pretty them is; although their wing was broken, but I repaired it!" You laughed, peeking out from the table with your small stature. Malleus looked at you smiling anyway and lifting you in his hands, you were just as small as when you were a baby but you were growing faster than expected. Either that, or it was just his abnormal perception of time. 

The Fae-dragon looked at you, his bright emerald eyes shining with pride as you showed him the butterfly. He couldn't help but smile broadly when he saw your enthusiasm and laughter. He always loved the way you looked when you were happy.

"Hm, it looks quite beautiful. You did a good job with the wing, it broke before..." He says complimenting your little acts of love for others though a bit jealous of that butterfly. He then lifts you up in his arms, hugging you like he does all the time. The dragon loved you as much as you loved him.

Lilia laughs internally, his enigmatic gaze analyzing the situation, only in time would Malleus accept his possessive and territorial side, Lilia would be sure to witness it. "Aww~ our princess is a saintess!" Lilia teased in her cheesy tone, then pressed her lips together mockingly as if she wanted to give you a duck kiss, you on the other hand laughed avoiding his lips as he began to chase you away from Prince Briar's embrace. Malleus looked at you and smiled though the vein in his forehead and neck said something more than simple elegance, jealousy, raw as poisonous. 

́Maybe I should break his neck and cut his legs off? ́ thought the Fae Dragon, but he restrained himself from those possessive and murderous fantasies, on the other hand Lilia felt a look on the back of his neck imagining that his pupil and monarch It was almost drilling his head (figuratively), in a way it was funny. 

 "AH!!! yuck, I don't want your kisses uncle Lilia, they're slimy and I hate it when you pinch my cheeks!" You exclaim, snapping Malleus out of his thoughts as Lilia caught you and you tried to push him away while laughing.

"Come on, just one little kiss! And can you blame me? You're so cute" The old fae squeezed you in his arms. Malleus felt a small twinge of discomfort in his chest as he watched Lilia try to give you a kiss, the dragon fae clenched his jaw slightly and his fists clenched into fists of fury.

"Lilia... Fuck!"

He muttered under his breath, looking at the two of them and keeping his feelings under control. Malleus again refused, it wasn't right to be jealous, he wouldn't give his advisor the pleasure of seeing him in such a state let alone losing control. 

So he represses his emotions once again, causing Lilia to look at him out of the corner of her eye and sighs, releasing you from his arms. "How boring you are! Well, anyway, I have to go, I need to check the barrier on the moor, what was it...like 200 years ago? Yeah, I haven't seen the state of it in 200 years.... I'm off then, have fun my children, bye bye bye!" Lilia smiled saying goodbye as the door closed, you on the other hand walked up to Malleus taking his hand.

"Tsunotarou... Were you upset? You know Uncle Lilia is like that, by the way I made you this crown! I hope you like it" Malleus looked sideways at you and blushed, coughing in embarrassment at your tenderness, he bent down to your height so you could put it on his head. The rose wreath, although twisted by its awkward horns, was still beautiful to look at. However, it was cute to see how your delicate little hands went out of their way to give him such a gift.

Malleus looked at you, his mood changing almost immediately as he saw your expression. He couldn't help the laughter that came from his pale but beautiful lips as he watched you try to put the crown on his head, but fail miserably as his horns got in the way of said task. He chuckled softly as he gently took the crown and put it on perfectly as he bent down and ruffled your hair.

"Thank you, he's lovely, as always... I won't get mad at Lilia, he's like that with everyone, but promise me you won't leave room for his jokes ok?"

"Yep! I won't let uncle bully me with his jokes anymore" You laughed once more, clapping your hands and with innocent grace, you hugged his neck giving him a kiss on his pale cheeks making Malleus blush once more that you would almost swear steam was coming out of his ears. So much so that his emotions affected the atmosphere of the whole valley, you saw how the gardens grew more roses and out of nowhere butterflies or birds appeared. 

Because of your innocence, you were frightened to see him so red, thinking you had done something wrong. "Tsunotarou is red because of me, now he has a fever!" You began to cry with worry in your girlish eyes, as you noticed earlier how hot he had become because of your actions, but you didn't know what triggered that.

Malleus looked surprised, his eyes widened at your innocent and adorable way of looking at the situation. He let out a small scoff and chuckled under his breath, he always forgot how innocently cute you were and how your naive personality embarrassed him most of the time.

"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong, it's okay...I'm fine, you're just too cute and beautiful my precious princess" He said softly as he stroked your back, trying to calm your crying as he blushed a little from embarrassment.

"Eh? ... Then why are you red? If you don't have a fever, maybe it's another illness? I don't want you to be sick, Tsunotarou!" You were still sad and worried but you weren't crying so much anymore, much to her relief. 

Malleus sighed, lifting you up in his arms and sitting you on his lap, then wiped away the excess tears by kissing your chubby little girl cheeks pulling them as a game and a little reprimand.

"That hurts, a lot Tsunotarou."

He smiled at your innocence and how you so quickly assumed he was sick because of his red face, he was a little amused that you couldn't see the underlying reason he was embarrassed rather than sick. A small chuckle escaped his pale lips when you complained at how hard he pulled on your cheeks, then he sat you on his lap as he stroked your head talking softly. 

"No, no, I'm not sick... it's much simpler than that, little girl."

The prince/monarch smiled at you once again saying how tender and beautiful you were in his eyes and that's why he was embarrassed when you did such tender acts.

"Am I pretty? But Sebek says I smell like a dirty human, but I don't know what that is. He always criticizes me, the other time he scolded me for accidentally knocking down one of your paintings in the office, he also says humans are ugly, does that mean I'm ugly and stinky?" your tender and gullible eyes made Malleus swallow bile, mostly because of what you were telling him, sometimes your tenderness and naivety reminded him of himself. 'Sebelk, that idiot' he thought to himself, cursing his loyal friend and self-proclaimed knight, though to Malleus Sebek was an annoying zealot.

The prince of Briar Valley shook his head and sighed softly. Yes, Sebek tended to say things he shouldn't say in front of you. And yes, he was also an absolute fanatic who was too loyal to him, sometimes not even liking his attitude because of how loud and restless he got. 

"No, you're not ugly, you're beautiful... in fact, you're the most beautiful little girl I've ever seen in my life... and ignore what Sebek says, because he's a brat who talks too much..."

And speaking of the devil, he will come! Sebek knocked on the door, although it didn't do much good as he ended up whipping it anyway, mostly to warn of his presence.

"MALLEUS-SAMA!!!" Both you and the aforementioned covered your ears at Sebek's cries and his following praise, the Prince of Thorns had to silence him before he gave any more speech about how he is the most perfect among dragons that ever lived.

"Ahem! As I was saying I brought breakfast because honestly Lilia-sama is horrible at cooking, and I also wanted to tell you that Silver will be away for a week and is still dealing with the demons in the troll pit." After that introduction, Sebek served everything with grace and- Perhaps too much perfection; even Malleus was sweating with embarrassment from his eyes with imaginary stars staring at him, sometimes Sebek was too overwhelming.

Sighing as he looked at Sebek and rolling his eyes at the green haired dragon's strong presence, the half-dragon fae let out a small snort as he listened to the strong praise and watched how hard Sebek tried to please him as he fed him breakfast. As he watched Sebek kneel on the ground after finishing with the table and the plates with food, Mall let out a small scoff.

"Very well, thank you, Sebek... you may go, I'm sure Silver will need help handling the demons in the pit..." He said, trying to get rid of him so that he would stop being too overwhelming; and be able to continue chatting with you without the stalker-like vigilance of the green-haired one. 

"Your highness... You're telling me you don't want me here? WHAT AN HONOR TO HAVE YOUR DISGUSTING TOWARDS ME, MALLEUS-SAMA!! YOU CAN EVEN TREAD ON ME IF YOU WANT, I WOULD LOVE TO BE YOUR RUG FOR WHATEVER—" The Green-haired's cries of adoration ceased as Malleus swung his black claw and pulled him out of the garden and into the castle hallway. Still, the young dragon's cries could be heard. You laughed so hard at Sebek's own witticisms that the black-haired fae's bad mood was relieved.

"Sebek is funny, even though he's always nagging me..." You pout as Malleus smiles at you burying his face in your baby neck.

He sighs again as he hears Sebek's ramblings and praise in the background, letting out a small scoff. He chuckled under his breath when he heard you laugh, nodded and agreed with you.

"I know, he's a jerk... but at least he's a loyal jerk, I guess..." Whispered the fae as he wrapped his arms around you once more, burying his head in your small shoulder, enjoying your scent that reminded him of fresh roses.

Days later Malleus took you flying through the forest as it was like your birthday present, as you laughed in his arms, the first spring breeze hit your delicate face, Malleus spread his draconic wings taking you even higher in the air to enjoy the view without actually stepping on solid ground. He won't admit it but he doesn't want something else to catch your attention and make you want to go out more often. Your hands caress a cloud and the black-haired man sees you laugh which makes him happy. 

 "This is the best birthday ever!!!! Thank you Tsunotarou" Your eyes looked at him and at that moment it was just the two of you, something in Malleus started to resonate it was like a: 'Badump! Badump!' ...It was the beating of his heart that echoed in his ears, for the first time he knew what that was, the feeling longed for millennia and jealous of those who could feel it and experience it but now he finally felt it. You were the reason? He wondered, but at that moment he didn't care, he just closed his eyes letting himself go while holding you in his arms.

Malleus watched you with a fond smile on his face as he saw the way your eyes sparkled when the breeze hit your face, happily observing how you were thrilled by small things like clouds. He chuckled softly as he watched you laugh at the simple joy of being in heaven....

"Of course, of course... Anything for my little daughter of man..."

His eyes closed as he embraced you, feeling the gentle beat of his heart flutter in his chest, his heart beating for the first time in centuries like butterflies in full spring. 

This moment was precious and although Malleus is not normally greedy, with you it is another case, he wants to have you and make you happy just like you do with your simplicity and innocence, his beautiful sleeping beauty.... The tulip in his garden of thorns.

"Tsunotarou! Look there— Is that me!!!? Woah, what a beautiful garden" Malleus smiled again seeing you excited, this is the special gift for you, in this forest there is a beautiful portrait made with so many flowers of so many colors and froms the air you can see it. So he wanted you to see how much he would give and do for you, for your smile and the feelings you make him feel, for what you are and represent in his life. 

He tilted his head to look at the portrait of the flowering garden in question, a small smile on his face as he watched the colors come together and form a beautiful image from above. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he listened to you speak, his ears twitching at the way you seemed to be getting more and more excited.

"It's beautiful... Do you want me to take you and take a closer look at it, little one?" he said, flying a little lower now so he could take you there and let you see the flowers up close.

You both descended and immediately ran through the fields of flowers, like a princess in his eyes, the prince and wizard Fae-Dragon, moved his hands making your dress turn white as snow and floral decorations grew from it, then he made you float. and dance in the air as you laughed.

"LOUDER!!! YAY! WHAT FUN" The prince of Briar Valley continued to wiggle his fingers and watched you float away, then he pulled you close to his face and their noses touched, the magic was removed and with a kiss on your forehead, you fell asleep. Malleus had long since ceased to feel alone, much less hated and feared, only loved by the simplicity of a human, his human.

At the end of your birthday, the prince of thorns tucked you into your bed and before you went to sleep, you gave a thank you. "Thank you for everything Tsunotarou.... Good night." 

Your smile faded as you slept, Malleus Sighed, leaving the room and walking to his own, the cold corridors smelled of wet earth and nature, his footsteps echoed against the aged stone until he reached the black door. The creaking reminded him of the years that passed and he never aged, his physical age stopped at his seventeen years. Upon entering, Malleus removed his clothes and then sank his body into the soft feather bed, his green eyes wandering to a shelf; There were all those gifts that to others are cheap trinkets made by the innocent hand of a girl like you, but to the Dragon Fae it was more than that, it felt special to receive them from the one he loved.

Malleus sat on the end of his bed for a second, his thoughts wandering as he looked at the items on the shelf. He couldn't help but feel warmth and happiness in his chest as he looked at the little trinkets... it brought a small smile to his face as he thought about how much happiness you brought him....

He lay fully back on the bed, resting his head on the pillows and pulling the covers over his shoulders, closing his eyes and letting the dreams take him soon....

And who knew that that nap of his would make the future of both of them turbulent, because Malleus fell into another one of his hibernations, besides, without anyone to wake him up with anti-sleep magic, he wouldn't be there for you. Lilia, Silver and Sebek would take a maximum of 4 months to return, the vast territory of the royal family of dragons and fairies had to be constantly supervised by many nobles and among them were the three close to Malleus. 

After waking up, you went to look for him and excited, you opened his door running towards him and climbed into his soft, padded bed but Malleus was still asleep, even so you decided to move and pull his cheeks, talk to him or yell at him. but nothing happens, he still does not respond.

"Tsunotarou? Come on it's already daytime! it's not funny.... Ugh! Don't scare me, come on, wake up already! You're going to make me mad... Humm!" You started to hit him on the cheeks, You even lifted his eyelids but as soon as you removed your fingers they closed again and still it didn't work and you couldn't use your magic since it only worked on plants and to heal wounds. "I have another idea! I'll look for uncle Lilia, he might wake you up" Jumping out of bed you leave the royal room and head to your own, preparing your backpack to go in search of the old fae.

It was your first time out of the castle, you were scared and the monsters terrify you, but as Uncle Lilia once said, "Never forget to be protected, if you wear a dragon scale, no monster or weirdo will attack you given our essence! So don't forget to take one, even Mall would be happy to give it to you". And that's what you did, as Malleus wouldn't wake up even if you removed a black scale from his tail, so you would use it as a toll and scare the monsters away.

A while after walking, you ended up lost. Since you have never left the castle unless Malleus or another fae (except Silver, from what Sebek said, he is a human like you.) guides you, you would get lost on your own and that happened. Now you didn't know where to go.

"Phew, wasn't this the way? Maybe I should go back, but... Why are there three paths? I don't know anymore! I'm lost!". You cried in frustration and continue walking, if Malleus would complain about anything, it's your pride and stubbornness.

It wasn't long after you left the castle that you still couldn't find the right path. Unfortunately, without high-ranking magic, you were doomed from the start to get lost if this happened, especially since Malleus would normally be guiding you.

The dark wood were mostly silent, a few crickets chirping could be heard. Even your footsteps echoed and you didn't even want to think about other unknown sounds because it made you nervous and afraid. But the sounds of the crickets soon faded away, leaving you in silence as the sound of rustling leaves added to the sound of your beautiful magical sandals made of flowers and wood. Suddenly, a soft glow caught your attention.

You had reached the end of the forest and the sun was about to set, you were apparently in a part where the barrier of magical flowers and thorns was weaker, you also had the scale of Malleus in your possession, so when you followed the path fleeing from the darkness; the thorns and bushes parted, allowing you to pass as you sensed the magic in that scale inside your bag. The fresh air greeted you, you smiled believing that you would return to the castle but it was not so, as you barely took a few steps, a carriage passed by you and the person stopped to look at you, it was a humble peasant. 

"Umm hey little girl, what are you doing on this side of the road? You don't know it, but there are ugly monsters roaming around."

"I don't know sir, but who are you and what are your names? I'm (T/N) and I'm looking for my uncle Lilia, I must wake up Tsunotarou or else he will sleep too much, so he won't be able to play with me" Facing your naivety, the farmer smiles and invites you to come up. 

Since Lilia never explained to you about the dangers outside (thinking that because of Malleus' obsession with you, it would be impossible to escape) you continued talking to these strangers.

The farmer, as well as the person sitting in front with the horses, were both older adults, who were quite surprised to see a young girl like you wandering through the dark and dangerous forest with no parents or other people in sight, just you and the forest behind you.

They both see that you were hungry and tired, the farmer felt bad for you, nodding and smiling as they brought out some stale bread and water to let you eat something. The person in the wagon with the horses watched you intently. In the end you end up going out with them, not knowing that your innocence would bring chaos and that the carelessness of some would make many pay, even death will be a mercy rather than delayed suffering. 

And so 4 months had passed, in that time the 2 faes and Silver returned from their duties, when they entered they were surprised to see the palace so... silent.

 "Lilia-sama, I can't find the rambunctious human, I already searched every floor for her but there's no trace" Sebek said in alarm when even Lilia couldn't find you either. 

Silver then cried out in surprise and somewhat worried, Malleus was in a state of hibernation earlier than expected, as normally dragons sleep 100 years but since he is half fairy, this time is maximum 50 years and it also depends on Malleus himself.

"No way, damn it, what are we going to do? Hurry Silver, go and get some chains, I need to wake him up but we mustn't just blurt out the news, Sebek gather everyone you can and look for her!" Lilia ordered as she bit his fingers cursing his luck. Once Silver finished binding Malleus, the old Fae put spells on the chains to at least hold some of the strength the Fae dragon prince possesses. In the end Malleus awoke with magic and the anti-sleep potion.

Malleus, dazed, opened his eyes after being suddenly awakened from his sleep, his senses immediately sought your presence again. The first thing he felt were the chains and spells on him, which irritated him, and as soon as he saw Lilia, his senses went on guard.

"Lilia...! What are all those chains and where did she go (Y/N)" His voice was soft but demanding, his cold, sharp eyes looked at the old Fae in front of him. 

"First calm down Malleus, you are not in your five senses, I didn't think it would come to this but there was a mistake and we miscalculated your hibernation, so we left and 4 months passed. And sorry to tell you but (Y/N) is not here. I think she went out to look for me, from what the few creatures who saw her told me, I only know for sure that she left the magical forest and Briar Valley, heading for the human world, in that case we can't track her and the only one who can is Silver, so I sent him to look for her.. " 

Malleus listened to him in silence, his calm and gentle expression slowly twisting into something much darker as he took in what Lilia was saying in his mind.

"You mean to tell me that you all left the castle without waking me up or leaving someone to take care of her?" The Raven-haired fae's voice was cold, his usually calm tone now filled with silent anger about to explode as he stared at Lilia for a second.

"Didn't any of you think that leaving a young woman home alone would end up with something like this.."

Lilia sighed just as frustrated, his cheerful and youthful demeanor left behind by his deadly and bitter self. "Look Malleus, I couldn't calculate the variables, you were supposed to hibernate until February but it was earlier than planned, I think the anti-sleep potion affects something in your hibernation states." 

Lilia rubbed his nose septum in frustration. Malleus might have looked calm but his vacant stare and his vibrant emerald eyes with shrunken slits, said otherwise, he was overthinking everything. 

"Can't you calculate the variables? I'm sure you have more than experience in dealing with issues revolving around me. You should know that this was a situation that had the possibility of happening, Lilia!"

Malleus' tone darkened with anger, he was beginning to blame Lilia even though he knew it wasn't entirely her fault, knowing that it is also his for constantly manipulating his sleep states making himself more unpredictable when it came to hibernating. 

"She's going to be lost in a world that is cruel and uncaring... Who knows what has already happened in the last 4 months?"

Unfortunately for everyone and especially for Sebek, who interrupted them, receiving almost lethal green fire from Malleus narrowly burning the green-haired Fae but resulting in the burned wall and a prince who was still raging almost eager to release his dragon form, but Sebek caught their attention.

"Can you listen to me for a moment? As I said, I went to investigate and proudly I can say that this is the only thing he left..... I'm sorry Malleus-sama and Lilia-sama" Sebek bowed showing pieces of the torn dress the prince of Briar Valley had given you, and that infuriated Malleus more and from that anger he went to raw but horrible sadness, a silent one because the words got stuck in his throat and tears fell from his beautiful emeralds for eyes.

Malleus stared at the torn pieces of your dress, his eyes widening as the reality of the situation slowly hit him. A small trembling of his hand became noticeable, as his fists clenched tightly to where it hurt, his nails slowly digging into his own skin and drawing blood as he reared up savagely towards the Raven-haired fae taking the piece of cloth from him. 

"No... She is still out there, we must look for her, I must— I MUST LOOK FOR HER!! Ah..., Sorry for that, please leave a time me alone."

His voice came out as a halting whisper, as he slowly closed his eyes... taking in what had just happened; the reality of what he had lost, the reality that he had lost you... of all things, losing you to him and his draconic heart was very devastating.

Lilia said nothing at the scene of his beloved ward and prince/monarch, so both Sebek and he let his process it all and so for a few days Malleus locked himself in his room without coming out, falling back into an abyss of loneliness and silent rage.

In the days that followed your disappearance, Malleus mourned your absence, spending his days trapped in his room, talking to no one if he could help it and only looking at the pieces of your dress... the only thing he had left of you or your scent. 

The fae dragon spent most of his time pacing his room or sobbing on his bed sheets, crying his eyes out and hating himself for how he had handled things when he could have avoided them.

Mmmmmm

Mmmmmm

So this was love

Mmmmmm

So this was love

So this was what made life divine

I was glowing, mmmmmm

And now I know

And now I know

The key to all heaven was mine

My heart had wings, mmmmmm

And I could fly

I touched every star in the sky, but no more

So this was my miracle?

That I've been dreaming, that I've lost

Mmmmmm

Mmmmmm

So this was love, but I won't feel anything, anymore

[faeryseiko]

Ahead of me || Katsuki Bakugo

-----------------

A/N: Hi ! I haven't wrote since 2022 so I'm sorry if this one sucks but please take the time and tell me your thoughts on this one !! It is a song lyrics based fic, I LOVE the quirk I just cooked and might do an AO3 story with it...

WARNINGS : season 7 BIG SPOILERS. death, blood.

----------------------------------

Muffled screams, tears running down soft cheeks.

"If I could, I'd be your little spoon"...

I looked as Shigaraki threw Bakugo's body like an useless doll that he didn't want to play with anymore. My heart was beating strongly fast in my chest. I got up on my feet and ran to his side, sliding on my knees as I did so. I started to scratch my arms, the red powder falling on the hole of his chest.

Quirk name : Philosopher's stone

I kept scratching, normally it wouldn't even take a second before healing. But it didn't this time. I felt my own blood rolling on my arm and saw it going to mix with his on his chest. I heard Best Jeanist next to me as he just saw the student he taught yet learned so much from.

"No. No no nonononono" I started to panic as my eyes watered down. I was shaking a corpse, trying to wake it up. I put my forehead on his and was breathing uncontrollably.

"Y/n-san, with you around, we will not be scared of our injuries anymore. I know we can count on you !"

I remembered Izuku's words, now stabbing me as I felt useless again in my life. My best friend was lifeless before me and I couldn't even bring him back or save him.

My quirk wasn't a flashy one, nor did it help for defense. I had to work harder to prove myself worthy of being a hero. The number of times I felt useless watching my class fight as I could only stand watching on the sidelines. I hate it, I'm thankful for Aizawa that have let me show my worth.

"Your quirk is special, Y/n. Great sacrifices and hard work will have to be done to reach it's full potential."

I was shaking, taking his numb upperbody on my knees as I carressed his cheek with my thumb. His beautiful crimson eyes were now turned a pale pink color and his mouth gaped open to show the last breath he took. I let my forehead fall on his chest.

. . .

"One day, I'll become number one and will beat all bad guys like All Might !"

It was one of these times where Bakugo and I's parents would hang out and we would play in the park together. We were on top of the slides as we practiced our hero poses while laughing.

"I'm excited to see my quirk so I can now start ny hero journey, aren't you Bakugo?" I asked with a smile and to this he nodded with a proud smile.

"I already know mine will be awesome ! You'll just have to wait and see. It'll be so strong that it will surpass even All Might and AH-"

I jolted in surprise and panicked as I saw Bakugo fall from the slide's top. I carefully went down and sat down next to him. He winced in pain as he was holding his arm. After a few seconds, a blue color was appearing and that's when I knew it was broken.

"Bakugo, y-your arm-"

"Shut up I know !"

He tried to not let his tears fall and when I saw this, that's when I suddenly took his arm. I don't know how this happened... Even today, I am not able to reproduce what I did that day, but when I touched his arm, his arm healed itself, but in the process broking mine completely.

Bakugo smiled as he saw his new and healed arm.

"Y/n! Your quirk it finally came-"

His eyes widened, seeing me holding my arm in pain. His smile disappeared and I don't know what he thought at that time. That I had an useless quirk ? That I was pathetic ?

. . .

That day was my quirk's first appearance and I couldn't understand how I did it. I had the properties of a stone made with alchemy. Yet, I couldn't understand them exactly.

"And kiss your fingers forevermore..."

But then, it clicked.

I gently lift up Bakugo and hugged his figure, closing my eyes in the process. I focused on him, I had to.

"but big spoon, you have so much to do..."

Water filled my eyes as I sobbed, hugging him tightly, knowing this was my first and last.

....

I remember when I saw Bakugo and Deku fight against eachother, their first fight when they were teammed up with Uraraka and Iida. I looked in awe at both strenght.

Even though Izuku used to be quirkless, he showed himself worthy for All Might to give his quirk. Bakugo was mad and confused at the time, mad that Izuku had showed up randomly one day with a quirk that was strong. And confused on how it happened.

I was selfish to think that... but with Izuku I felt less alone next to Bakugo with his amazingly strong quirk. I had to work extra harder and might never catch up to them.

I also remember at the festival, against Kirishima I was nothing but an easy target. I have cried that day so hard, I even wondered what I was doing at U.A and why I stayed. Also on why our teacher kept me.

Aizawa taught Shinsou and I to still be strong even with a quirk that didn't give us boosted strenght, rapidity or stamina.

I have made so many good friends at U.A, but I knew that if for whatever reason someone had to leave, they had too much potential, too many hopes and dreams for it to be them.

"And I have nothing ahead of me..."

I have made so many great memories, so many. I felt my chest getting lighter and breathing turned so easy to do. Weights on my shoulder turned into empty ones, you know that feeling before falling asleep ?

And as my chest softly stopped to move, I felt against my ear a heartbeat. By now, I was too weak to great him happily like I usually do.

I wish we had more time, more time for me ask for his help for math homework, more time for him to look behind him to look at me, as if having me helped feeling more confident.

Or more time for me to go shopping one last time with Mina, one more time for Shinsou and I to proudly look at our better fighting forms, one more time to play video games with the squad.

More time so I can admire the developpment Bakugo has made on himself.

Maybe, I can finally be useful to you, Katsuki ?

....

Bakugo's eyes opened softly as he heard Best Jeanist yelling out someone's name. Surprisingly, it wasn't his.

The pain he had felt on his chest left and the blood disappeared, he still felt some weight on his chest. He had a hard time moving, but when he looked down, he saw your h/c hair, your normally e/c vibrant eyes that were now closed forever.

He would call you a dumbass, but he knew you wouldn't hear him this time. He would call you a selfless idiot, because since the day you had your quirk, the coolest quirk he've seen in terms of healing, that's just who you've become.

His eyes watered down. He focused so much onto catching up with Deku that he hasn't looked behind him at the person who destroyed themselves just to catch up to him.

And now, it was too late for him to simply catch your hand to help you run with him.

---------------

song : Your Best American Girl - Mitski.

[delopsia]

the kind that money can't buy (calico creek) | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 12,200 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, friends to lovers, size kink, general awkwardness due to a love confession gone wrong. Cunnilingus, creampies, multiple orgasms, hand jobs, grinding, usage of the 'snowed-in' trope, slightly implied inexperienced reader. Reader generally being overwhelmed at times. Notes are subject to be updated because I feel like I'm forgetting something... My almost-late entry for @lewmagoo's holiday celebration!

Brief Summary: Sometimes, all love needs is a botched love confession, broken bridges, a tiny cabin out on Calico Creek, and an inconceivable amount of snow. Inspired by the Stephen Wilson Jr. song, Calico Creek.

"And what's the plan if we die on this mission?" 

"There ain't one," Rhett chuckles, his eyes flickering between the bridge and the rearview mirror. Whatever he sees isn't enough, has to twist in his seat to look out the back window. "Might as well write your will and send it via carrier pigeon." 

He's gonna die with the left side of his neck, and the lower portions of his jaw smeared in cheap paint, and he doesn't even know it. Hell, there might be some in his hair now that you look at it.

You don't know how he can manage to do this. You can hardly look away from the window for more than a second, staring down at the edge of the bridge. Nothing but rushing waters and wood laid decades before you were born, no guardrail to prevent you from plummeting a hundred-something feet to your rocky, hypothermic demise. 

The turn onto this old-fashioned safety hazard is almost too tight for the trailer, one of the tires briefly hanging midair as it crawls onto the bridge. Something creaks below, low and grumpy, an ancient spirit disturbed from its eternal slumber. 

"I still think it's cracking beneath us." That sounds like wood cracking. Does he not hear it? Why is he not putting it in reverse yet? 

"Well, we don't seem to be fallin' yet." The idiot seems to have left his intelligence back at the rodeo. 

You must have forgotten yours, too, because you're the one who stupidly agreed to this whole venture, knowing full well you would have to cross this godforsaken bridge. This thing has been ready to collapse since the day you were born and has threatened to take you down the countless times you've ventured over it. But, like clockwork, the truck crawls out the other side, emerging onto safe, solid ground. 

"Oh, I forgot all about this," you don't mean to say it out loud, but it slips past your defenses, a breath that you can only hold back for so long. 

Snow-covered trees decorate the sides of the beaten gravel road, arching overhead, their baren branches seeming to kiss the silver sky itself. Icicles hang from some of them, twinkling in the light. Stunning in its own right, but nowhere near as gorgeous as Calico Creek herself, still just as wild and alive as she has always been. 

It's a wonder the Tillerson's haven't tried stealing this out from under the Abbotts, too. There's no way they haven't heard the stories about this place, and there's no way they have never wondered about where the water beneath the bridge on Warm Creek Road leads.

"The cabin is still standing?" It looks the same, too. Time itself must stop every time someone leaves this place.

"For some reason," Rhett's nails tap against the steering wheel. "Mom comes out here to pull weeds every other month in the summer."

"Still?"

"Old habits die hard."

And that...fuck, what do you say? Nothing? That was an invitation for a follow-up.

...no, maybe it wasn't. Why are you making it weird? Come on, think.What is it that you usually say when Cecelia comes up in conversation? Oh! You should ask about...no, he already said that she's spent all day cooking a roast. 

The tires slip beneath the truck. Rhett reaches for the gear shifter. His paint-mottled hand spins across the wheel, drawing the vehicle off the ice as quickly as it crawled onto it. Focused entirely on the road and nothing else.

Rodeo lights flicker through your mind. Old dirt flies through the air again, a neverending plume of dust that still makes your nose burn. Your stomach is twisting around, working itself into a knot it'll never get out of.

"Hello?" A gloved hand waves in front of your face. "Y' in there?"

"Huh?" 

The truck has long since stopped. Crudely parked in front of the cabin with no regard for how it may look to anyone else. It's been stopped for a while, too; you can already feel the cooler air creeping through the vents. How a cowboy like him can put up with a truck that only blows heat when it's moving is beyond you. You would have sold this thing years ago. 

"I was askin' if you're ready," Rhett's brow furrows, and for a moment, you're worried that he can see straight through you. "Are you sure you slept last night?" 

"Yeah." Lie. 

The corner of his mouth wobbles up and down, lips parting with the beginnings of a sentence. Then, flattening into a line. Your eyes meet. You don't know what to say. Neither does he. Your face feels hot all of a sudden. 

It's too damn quiet in this truck.

Your saving grace comes in the form of a squealing door hinge. Shrill. Screaming at the top of its lungs as Rhett shoves it open. Yeah. Okay. You'll get out, too, then.

If life were a comic, then the rush of frozen air would have steam rising from your heated cheeks. Fortunately, no such thing happens; it's just your burning skin and the vicious bite of single-digit temperatures eating away at what little moisture you have left, not satisfied until your skin has been left raw and chapped.

Snow crunches beneath your boots, soft at first but growing firm as it compacts under your weight. Every step feels just as unsteady as the last, and with each one, you're nearly certain that this time, you will find uneven ground and go tumbling head-first into this pristine, wintery hell that has encased the entire state of Wyoming. And yet, you continue to find solid footing.

"Remind me again why we're looking for a...?" Your words die in your throat, lost to the howling wind. Did he ever mention what you were looking for out here?

A moment passes. Rhett turns his head to you. Gives you a few more seconds to conjure up the words you're looking for. "Horse-drawn grain drill?" Finishing your thought. "Mom saw a post on Facebook and thinks she can turn it into decor."

You don't know what a horse-drawn grain drill is, but you've got a feeling that it's the old jumble of rusted metal that has been decaying against a cedar tree since you were in kindergarten. Somewhere behind the cabin, beyond the tree line. "Is this another one of those projects that she starts and you have to finish?"

"What makes ya guess that?" The corner of his eye crinkles with his smile; now that you've got something to compare it to, the snow doesn't seem so bright anymore.

"Well, last I checked, she was the one repainting the walls downstairs," the ground shifts beneath your foot. Sends you stumbling. "But half of your jaw is a nice shade of Beacon Gray."

"Shit." His hands rise, blindly pawing at his face with the backs of his gloved hands, digging at it the best that he can manage. "Why didn't ya tell me I had this shit all over my face?" Flecks of gray rain down like snowflakes, scattering across the front of his jacket. 

He pauses, those expectant blue eyes landing on your shivering frame. Hopeful, even. Poor thing hasn't the slightest clue that his neck is stained with the imprint of his own hand right now. 

You shake your head. "I think you're gonna have to shave to get it all off." 

His whine echoes through the empty trees. "But I just got it to the right length again!"

As if it would get to last past the weekend, you can already hear Cecelia fussing at him to shave and tidy himself up for Christmas Service. She'll probably try squeezing him into that old suit she had tailored for him after he graduated high school, too. So tiny and narrow that the fabric visibly struggles to contain those broad shoulders...

You've gotta think of something else before you start drooling and a damn icicle forms. 

"What, you don't think it adds character?" Rhett leans over, knocking his arm against yours. If he hears your heart lurch in your chest, he doesn't comment on it. 

Looking at him is the worst thing you could possibly do. He's just so close, and he's waited until this very moment to tilt his head down and ease that old cowboy hat on, the felt one with the chipped brim. Rugged, just like his four-day-old scruff and the unruly hair that curls behind his ear and hasn't been cut since spring began. 

"It adds...something," you don't know what your conclusion is supposed to mean. Fortunately, he doesn't ask any further; just rolls his eyes and keeps walking. 

Against all odds, that old bench Royal built for you is still sitting and facing the creek. The piles of snow almost entirely obscure its frame, but it's the bench nonetheless. Two wooden pallets crudely cut and nailed together, Abbott engineering at its finest. 

"Do you remember the tire swings?" You vaguely remember them, hung from trees that once occupied the space the bench now occupies. But they weren't ordinary tire swings. No, they were fashioned to look like horses, with old recycled bridles and name tags. Isabela and Flash. 

Rhett shakes his head, chuckling at a memory. "I remember jumpin' off of 'em a lot."

"And breaking your arm because you overshot and landed in the creek?" You can still hear Cecelia screaming at the top of her lungs. "No wonder why you turned out to be a bull rider. You're still chasing the high of nearly breaking your neck in Calico Creek." 

All he can do is laugh; there's no defending himself from this one. 

Fortunately for him, the conversation dies at the sight of that old hunk of metal. It still lies in the same spot it's always been, somewhat sunken into the soil and leaving behind an indent in the tree it rests against. The thing has all the right in the world to stubbornly cling to its resting place, but Rhett doesn't even seem to struggle when he pulls on it.

It's reasonably light, all things considered. 

...or maybe it just feels light because Rhett is doing most of the pulling. 

But the metal is frozen in a thin sheet of ice, and by the time you get it within distance of the trailer, it's melted and seeped into your gloves. Frozen water gnawing at your already cold fingers, eating through flesh and straight down into the bone. Solidifying in your joints for extra measure.

You've got no choice but to drag it along for no reason other than you can't let go. Trudging through the snow, audibly crunching with every step, every inch of your exposed skin burning in a frozen fire. And it must freeze your memory, too, because the next thing you remember is the rear trailer gate falling open, clattering against the ground. It creates a ramp of sorts. 

"I can pull it up from here," Rhett, ever the gentleman.

You'd love to let him take it, but...well, you're trying, but your fingers are hardly budging. Frozen in place, another piece of the machine. You don't remember when they went numb, but you can hardly feel them anymore; they may have even detached from your body entirely. But, slowly, they pry themselves open, stiff muscles fighting against your effort to pull your hand back to your chest.

Rhett tilts his head. "'s your hand frozen?" 

"My glove got soaked," pausing to blow air onto it. The heat of your breath is nice...until it fades and leaves you even more aware of the difference in temperature. "It's fine, just a little cold."

"'Cold' my ass," muttering under his breath. He reaches out, his big hand practically engulfing yours as he pulls it toward him, plucking the soaked glove off before you've even realized what he's doing. "I ain't havin' ya get frostbit."

His other hand dives into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief that's been wrapped around something. You can feel the heat radiating off of it before he's even placed it in your frozen palm. A hand warmer.

The wind nips at your frosty skin, but the handkerchief is big enough that you can wrap the fabric around your hand entirely. A thin shield to block off at least some of the cold. 

Truly, you don't think Rhett even needed you to come along in the first place because he gets the old piece of equipment onto the trailer without the slightest hint of a struggle. It's so easy that you almost catch yourself looking back to see if there's a bigger piece to haul up. Why did he ask you to help with something so simple?

And why did you agree to it?

It's something you're still wondering when you heave yourself back up into the truck, squeezing into the corner of the old cloth seat like it'll somehow save you from the burst of frigid air that races out of the vents. God, why were you wishing for snow last week? This is hell.

"How do you put up with this every winter?" You're fighting to keep your teeth from chattering, not even going to make an attempt at straightening yourself out to put the seat belt on. Curling into a ball sounds like a much better option than that; safety be damned. 

"Layers 'n a dash of self-hatred." The truck rumbles as Rhett's foot presses on the gas pedal, the beaten tires frantically searching for traction on the slick ground. They find it. Lurching forward. "I shoulda become an accountant or somethin'."

"You as an accountant?" Snickering. 

Somewhere, in the effort to almost entirely spin the truck around, Rhett finds the chance to lean over and knock his elbow against yours. "Hey, y' don't see none of them office folk freezin' for a livin', now do ya?" 

"I'd love to see you crammed in a little cubicle," you laugh, and all he can do is roll his eyes, shaking his head all the while. 

A beam of light bounces off the creek waters. You know it's merely the change in angle that caused it, but the little voice in your head quietly wonders if old Calico Creek is laughing with you. She keeps doing it, too. Light-reflecting in little sparks, bouncing off chunks of broken ice and the rushing silver water itself, following you all the way up to the bridge.

You don't remember the bridge groaning like this last time. Maybe more towards the middle, but certainly not this early. Though, even as you untwist from your huddle and peer out the window, you can't see anything crumbling. 

"Rhett?" 

"I hear it."

Still, he eases the truck forward, but you can hear the whir of the window as he rolls it down. You would do the same and stick your head out, too, if you weren't just now regaining sensation in your nose. 

It sounds like popcorn beneath you. Soft little popping noises that you can feel when you press your feet against the floorboard. 

Rhett jumps for the shifter. 

Wood snaps.

The truck dips forward.

Something roars. You're going backward. The earth spins. White and silver and brown blurs into one big mess. Metal and tires scream. Your head bounces against the back of the seat.

And everything is still.

You're facing the river. The cabin is on your right, and the bridge is...the bridge is...

"Did it...?"

"Yeah..." Rhett whispers, his eyes as equally glued to the sight as yours are. "it did." 

The bridge is gone. 

"I have good news and bad news." Rhett's voice bounces off every wall in the cabin, almost makes it hard for you to figure out which of the two rooms he's walking out of. As if you didn't watch him disappear into one the moment that his phone started ringing.

"What's the good news?" You ask, squeezing the hand warmer just a little tighter. But there's no longer any heat radiating from it, reduced to nothing but a dull, rapidly fading warmth. 

"The bad news is," it seems he's completely ignoring what you just said. "The roads are shit 'n Perry doesn't think he can plow out the upper path 'till at least tomorrow afternoon." 

And then he's gone. Vanishing back into the room he just moseyed out of. 

"The good news?" You know he can hear you, but you don't get a reply. Nothing but a load of underwhelming silence. "Rhett?" 

Something thunks against the floor. Heavy. Solid. 

"Remember that time we snuck out and went over to Idaho for that rodeo mom didn't want me goin' to?" The echo is so bad that it takes a moment to catch up to what he's just said.

A memory stirs to mind. "I remember you getting drunk and busting your lip falling out of the truck."

Rhett's head pokes around the corner, his pale nose wrinkled with what you can only identify as disgust. Maybe a hint of embarrassment. Not his favorite memory, you suppose. 

"I don't know if y' remember it, but Dad was so furious that he made me come out here 'n chop every downed tree he could find for weeks." He disappears for another moment. Then, steps back into the room, lifting a chunk of split wood into the air. "Come to find out, all of it's still here." 

"Suddenly, I'm considering forgiving you for the grilling your mom gave us after that." You can't resist your smile. For once, your teenage antics pay off, even if it was all his idea. 

"It's inappropriate for you two to be alone together like that!" Mocking in the shrillest voice he can manage as he steps over to the fireplace, bending down to load the wood inside. "Don't know why she always thought that we..." His Adam's apple bobs. Glancing at you.

You look away. 

...yeah. 

Your lower belly twists, inexplicably filling with butterflies who have blades for wings. Or maybe they're moths, eating through you like old laundry. Whatever they are, they worsen when you peek at him through the corner of your eye, the momentary flicker of a memory nearly making you nauseous.

"Do you need help?" You don't know why you're asking when you're already reaching out, ready to take the next chunk of wood from him. It'll be easier for you to put it in; you're already down here on the floor.

"No, it's—it's fine," he freezes mid-crouch. Your fingers brush against the back of his hand. "I've got it. You should..." 

Life...stops.

For a split second, you fear that your fingertips have melted and become one with him, stuck together for the rest of eternity. But the blaze of the fire burns before you can reach melting point, jerking away as if burned. Rhett looks away. You do, too. 

You're right back at the rodeo again. 

Dusty Sunday night air spirals around you. A dry earthy scent burns at your nose, disguising the already vague tinge of sweat and what you can only describe as animal that clings to him. Dirt clings to his glistening jaw, smeared all the way down his neck and the left side of his jeans. 

If you didn't know any better, you would think they replaced Rhett with that of a wild-eyed mustang, icy blues damn near about to swallow you whole. It hardly matches his stuttered whispers, so damn shy in comparison to what lurks at the surface. 

"I...I uhm..." his boot kicks at the ground, stirring up another plume of dirt. "I know ain't good at this sort of thing, but I—" His tongue hitches, lips still moving, but not a damn thing comes out. 

Broad shoulders shiver. Caving in on themselves. And he drops his head, the brim of his hat concealing everything but his mouth from view. Hiding in plain sight. This doesn't nearly match the excitement that the shiny new championship buckle in his hand should warrant, but now it's been reduced to nothing but a toy for him to fidget with. Twisting it round and round in his wavering palm. 

"Rhett...?" Hooking your finger under the very edge of his hat, lifting it until you catch sight of red cheeks and impossibly wide baby blues. A deer caught in the headlights. 

"I love you."

It's there and gone with the breeze. So swift that if not for the sight of his lips shaping around those three little words, you would think you made it up entirely. 

But it was there, still clear as day in your memory; if you try hard enough, you can almost convince yourself that you can step through time. Re-enter your starstruck body and kiss him before the sheriff can cut in and shoo you away to ask questions about another spat between his family and the Tillersons.

But time travel doesn't exist, and that confession still hangs in the air, its rusty hinges squealing every time you think you've finally forgotten about it. What do you even say now? 'Hey, I'm sorry that in the span of a few weeks, I couldn't conjure up a better way to revive the topic, but I love you too. Hope you haven't taken my silence as rejection and moved on already!' What if he didn't even mean it as a love confession? 

Rhett hasn't said anything about it.

Neither have you.

The crackle of the fire is the only thing present to fill the silence. Occasionally broken apart by the pops of Rhett's joints every time he goes to fetch another piece of wood, ancient floorboards groaning in tandem with the thump of his boots. Even his jingling spurs are a welcome sound, shrill as they might be.

Nightfall is either your greatest blessing or the biggest curse known to mankind. The darkest corners of the cabin are lost to the shadows in a matter of hours. God knows if anything is lurking in there, ready to pounce at any given moment, but with it, Rhett's solemn face disappears, too. Reduced to glistening eyes and flashes of skin in the firelight. 

"Do you remember when we used to beg your mom to let us spend the night up here?" The sound of your voice is borderline shocking. A smidge too loud for the heavy silence that covers the room like a thick winter blanket. 

Rhett's hum dissolves into a chuckle. "Guess we really should have listened when she told us to watch what we wish for." 

He peeks at you through the corner of his eye, a strand of brown hair falling out from behind his ear and into his face. You catch his gaze, locking for a lingering moment. His mouth rises into a weary smile.

"We should have wished for endless snacks and a million-dollar lottery ticket while we were at it," you can only imagine what other things you two have begged poor Cecelia for. "And maybe a spare blanket."

Rhett blinks. Staring into the fire. His eyes widen, lighting up with a realization. "I got some in the truck."

"Lottery tickets?"

"Blankets," he's trying his best to sound annoyed, but his own grin betrays him. 

Something in his knee pops as he stands up, audibly protesting, but he's already on his feet. There go those spurs again, chiming away with every step, glinting in the light, and...

"What is that?" You ask, with a tilt of your head. It doesn't help you see any better, but the effort is there. 

Rhett freezes. "Huh?"

"Come here," beckoning him closer. "You've got something on the back of your boot."

"Those are called spurs, sweetheart," but Rhett comes back to you anyway.

He...meant that as a joke. Yeah. That's what it was. 

...right?

"No, it's..." There's something silver just above the spur on his left heel, so sharp that it pierces straight through the leather. Something long and gray hangs from it. Feels like plastic. It looks like...a rubber fish?

"'s that a damn Rapala?" Rhett's voice rises in pitch. Confused. 

"I didn't know fishing lures could catch cowboys," giggling, you pinch the hook, tugging it from the hole it's created in his shoe. The thing is ancient. Its once brilliant silver scales now a muted yellow, the singular remaining hook mangled and warped into an unrecognizable mess. 

He reaches down, opening that big hand of his. The little lure practically shrinks when you place it in his palm, suddenly nothing but a minuscule hunk of plastic and metal. "I knew they were in the creek but I didn't expect them to be all the way up here, too." 

You think that you can still hear Cecelia calling out, warning you two to watch where you step and to be careful in the shallow creek waters. It's a wonder how neither of you ever got a hook in your foot. You've lost track of how many summer Sunday afternoons you've spent in Calico Creek. You don't think you even liked visiting their church; you only ever tagged along because of what came after the service ended. 

Thump_

"What was that?" You're pretty sure it came from outside, but you're not about to dismiss the potential of someone lurking in the shadows of the room. 

"Dunno," but he's about to find out, slinking toward the door like a stray cat. You don't know how he does it, but his boots are suddenly quiet. The spurs on his heels don't even sing. All holding their breath as he opens the door. 

It's snowing so hard that you can see the shape of the wind when it bursts through the gap, cloaked like a ghost in a white sheet. Swirling around the room, all too eager to eat away at the warmth of the fire. Circling closer and closer with all the ferocity of a pack of hungry wolves. A shiver races up your spine.

"Hang on."

The door slams shut, and—

"Rhett?" You squeak. Where did he...did he go outside? He must have. You only looked away for a moment, and you would have heard it if he had rushed into the backroom. 

In his place lingers, what you can only describe as a sentient winter wind, rushing through the thick fabric of your clothes as you stand and make your way to the door. It doesn't matter how long you've been huddled by the fire. By the time your hand finds the ice-cold door knob, you're shivering again. 

Snow bursts through the gap once more, splattering across your face. Clinging to your eyelashes, wiggling down through the collar of your jacket. 

"Rhett?" But the midnight air swallows your voice like a sponge. It doesn't even echo. You can't see a thing. Not the truck, not Calico Creek, not a damn thing. "Rhett!"

No such reply. It's as if he was never even here in the first place, but you can vaguely see his footprints in the snow. They don't go far. 

Or rather, you can't see them go very far out. You could be floating through space right now, and you would be none the wiser about it. It's all just...black. Even as you step through the door, your unsteady frame slammed by a bigger, angrier gust of wind.

"Rhett!" Your voice should be able to get louder than this, but no such thing happens. Maxed out. "Rhett!"

You still don't see him. What the hell did he go looking for? Shit, what if it was someone lurking outside that grabbed him? And now you've just made it known to the whole forest that you're out here by yourself! 

A shape moves in the distance. 

You jump back, snow-caked boots sliding across the floor. Your grip on the door handle is the only reason you don't fall.

It's getting closer. You think you can see two legs. Walking closer and closer, and—

"Rhett!" Your voice breaks this time.

But it's him. Shoulders coated in a dusting of snow. Hair blowing into his windburnt face. Some kind of thick fabric bundled up into his arms. Blankets, you think. The wind blows harder, and he disappears into the sea of white once again, the waves trying to suck him back into the abyss.

Snow tumbles into the front door as he steps inside. He's carried half of tonight's snowfall into the damn cabin. But you can't think about that right now.

"Blankets?" You don't know if your voice is shaking from the cold or if you're just mad. "You run out into a blizzard and scare me half to death for fucking blankets?" 

Rhett Abbott has had his soul replaced with that of a newborn deer because he looks like one caught in the headlights. Wide blue eyes staring back at you, can't possibly fathom what has got you so mad. As if he's not the one who just inexplicably ran off into the night with no regard for his own safety. 

Those snow-dusted eyelashes flutter. "You said you wanted one." Innocent as can be. 

And you...you did ask for those, but. "You could have said something before you just up and walked out." 

"Were you worried about me?" His head tilts to the side. 

"Maybe I was," muttering, you turn back to the fire. There's a chair sitting in the back corner. Wooden. Didn't look all that inviting until just now, swallowed up by one of the many shadows cast by the fire. The chilly air has collected over here, clustering into its own little storm, but you can't feel it. Not with how hot your face has gotten all of a sudden. 

The chair creaks beneath your weight. It breaking is the last thing you need right now, but fortunately, it seems to hold. You lean forward, face falling into your hands. Of course. Of course, he went to get the blankets that you asked for. And here you are yelling at him like a damsel in distress as if he wasn't born and raised in conditions worse than this. 

Something drapes across your shoulders. Fuzzy. Smells like the bonfire the Abbott's had a few weeks back, burning away the brush collected from the most recent storm. Another one wedges itself into your lap, Rhett stubbornly pushing it onto you as if you're the one covered in snow and not him. 

"What are you doing?" Peeking through the gaps in your fingers.

"Buildin' you a cocoon and hangin' ya from the ceilin'," he hums, and if you didn't know him any better, you might have thought he was dead serious. "Wanna see if you'll come out with wings like one of them butterflies."

You're putting on your best frown. 

Or at least, you think you are. You can't really feel your face. "This implies that I look like a caterpillar." 

"Hey, caterpillars are cute," says Rhett Abbott, the man who yelped when he saw a bright green caterpillar inching up his pant leg last summer."Y' remember that book we used to have where the little dude kept eatin' everything?"

"The one you took a bite out of?" Yeah, you remember that. 

"The caterpillar did that." Still just as defensive as he was when Cecelia started asking questions about what happened to the book. "Not me."

"Uhuh." Sure.

The last of the snowflakes scatter from his eyelashes, cascading down onto his bright red cheeks and melting into minuscule little droplets of water that seem to dance in the firelight. A tiny galaxy that is wiped out by a singular stroke of your thumb. 

...you're touching his face.

You don't recall when your hand left your side, but it's resting against his jaw, your thumb still damp with the evidence of your crime. He's noticed it. There's no way he hasn't noticed it, but he's not telling you to stop. And...well...you're already here. 

Properly curling your hand around his cheek is the easiest thing you've done in a lifetime, his soft scruff tickling your palm. Rhett still doesn't say anything. Hell, it's so quiet that you can hear the minuscule sound of him breathing through his nose. His lashes flutter again. Thinking about something.

He tilts his head, leaning into your touch. 

"You're frozen." You noticed that a long time ago, but if you don't break the silence, you're gonna combust.

"Yeah, that kinda..." his mouth hangs open, tongue visibly faltering for a good moment or three, "happens when...you snow."

Your giggle is so loud that it echoes, but you hardly notice it. "When you snow, huh?" 

He's running from you. 

You can't believe it. He's squirming up to his feet and turning around, his hands rising to cover his face in a fashion identical to what you did mere minutes ago. Mutters something, but it's so muffled that you can't understand a word he's said. You don't necessarily care to figure it out, either. A little bit distracted by the sound of puzzle pieces clicking into place. 

You think you get it now. 

The floorboard squeals as you stand, the sharp sound eating away every bit of the certainty that you just built up, but your momentum still carries you forward. Feet falling one after the other as if caught in a trance. 

Rhett turns to look at you, then back to the door. 

He tries to, at least. 

It happens on reflex. You grabbing ahold of his jacket collar, pulling so hard that you both stumble. He gasps. So do you. Chest to chest in this tiny old cabin, nothing but the flickering fire to guide your eyes as you drink in his face. The same old, big blue eyes you've always known. Pouty lips wobbling, torn between a lopsided smile and trying to come up with something to say. 

If this were a dream, it would be perfect. Seamlessly falling into place like trained actors.

But this is real, and you're both moving at the same time, and your noses clash at the same time your mouths do. You stumble. His arm cinches around you. Pulls you closer. Teeth clatter. It's everything that a Hallmark first-kiss scene isn't, and it's incredible. All those movies, and they still couldn't quite capture the dream of kissing your best friend in—

Best friend.

"Shit, I..." Jerking away. Eyes wide. Breath caught in your throat. "I shouldn't have..." Shouldn't have what? Kissed him without asking? 

Oh, but he's grinning at you like a damn fool. Wobbly smile and sparkling gaze, flickering back and forth between your lips and eyes. You don't feel the hand resting on the small of your back until it's pulling you back in, lips crashing once more. 

A faint twinge of mint and chocolate still lingers on his lips, the only remaining evidence for his crime of raiding his momma's jar of Christmas chocolates. Or maybe cowboys just taste like that. Rough as stone, carved and broken into jagged edges by the test of time, but sweet as can be on your lips. 

He steps forward at the same time you do, already can't stand the minuscule gap between your bodies. But your foot slips between his, and the side of his spur catches on the toe of your shoe, and you're falling. 

Your elbow slams into the wooden floor. Chin bouncing off his too-firm chest. It's a damn miracle that he's the one who fell backward. You may not have survived if your positions were reversed, solid as he is. 

"Guess I fell for you," Rhett wheezes, groaning low in his throat. 

"Idiot," giggling.

Figuring out where your legs have landed is a task of its own, your frozen joints protesting any further movement for fear of another catastrophic fall. Rhett doesn't make much of an attempt to move. Content to part his legs and let your body fit between them, knees resting against your hips. 

His palm finds your cheek, calloused fingertips stroking the soft skin there. You're melting into it before you can realize what you're doing, drowning in the sensation of how big his hand is. You think it could cover half of your face without even trying.

"'n here I thought I'd fucked this all up," his hum vibrates through his chest and right into yours; kind of feels like distant thunder. 

"I didn't know how to bring it back up after Joy left." It's easy again. Talking to him, confessing exactly what's on your mind without fear of further fracturing things. "Then you didn't say anything either, and I...figured I'd read into it the wrong way." 

His thumb finds the corner of your mouth, gently tugging it up into a squished smile. "Oops." 

You can't help but reach for him, too, your hand finding his cheek once more, just for the hell of it. In the shadows of the fire, you can see the small chunk of skin permanently missing from his nose. An old scar from a kitchen fight with Perry a while back, courtesy of Perry's wedding ring and an argument that you don't remember the context of. Something about a remark Perry made on an already tense night. 

Should you?

Rhett blinks.

Yeah, you should.

"Watcha doin'?" He asks, scrunching his nose as you lean in, pressing your lips to that little scar. 

"Something I've thought about doing ever since you barged through my front door with blood pouring down your face," pressing another to the tip of his nose. 

"Funny, I recall y' wantin' to hit me at first." 

"Because you scared the hell out of me." 

"'s that why y' tripped me just now?" There's that light tone in his voice. Taunting. "Revenge?"

"Shut up." You know where this is going.

So does he. "Make me—" 

Kissing him quiet. Another thing off your bucket list. Maybe it was on his, too, because he laughs into your mouth like he's been waiting on this his whole damn life. Hell, you know you have. 

Your skin prickles beneath your layers of clothing, burning from head to toe, and you can only peel your winter coat off so fast. Pulling away from him might be the hardest thing you've ever done, but in the time it takes you to shrug it off, Rhett has gotten his off, too. That old black undershirt hugs his frame a little bit too well; you almost stop and stare.

Almost. 

Rhett's arm loops over your shoulders as you come back to him, hand curling around your bicep, lazily hanging on. Those jackets must have been a mile-thick because you don't recall being this close last time, his chest against yours, heart beating so heavy that you can feel it. 

But you're a little bit too far down, an ache blooming in the back of your neck at the strain to reach him. You don't want to move, but now that you've noticed it, the pain is the only thing that you can think about. Gives you no real choice but to dig your knees into the hard floor and scoot up—

"Mmh—!" 

You don't remember breaking away from Rhett, but you must have because you're blinking down at him, and he's found time to clamp a hand over his mouth. Eyes the size of dinner plates. Red in the ears.

"Did I...?" Suddenly aware of where your thigh is resting right now. 

"Just a little bit," he doesn't seem to have any interest in making you move, either, using the arm around your shoulders to pull you back down once more. 

You don't know how you've survived so long without this. 

The pressure of his lips, the stubble on his jaw, the awkward bump of noses that haven't learned where to go quite yet. It's all so new, and yet you can already feel the embers of an addiction burning to life, roaring as hot as the fire, and you might need him more than you need to breathe. Heaven is a place on earth, and its name is Rhett Abbott. 

Your forearms brace themselves on either side of his head, steadying yourself before you can become inconceivably lost. And again, your thigh unintentionally presses into him, and he's groaning low in his throat, lithe hips bucking up into it. You can't help yourself this time, intentionally grinding into the growing tent in his jeans, feeling his knees flutter around you. 

"I'm sorry, I..." clarity strikes like lightning.  "I'm rushing things, aren't I?"

"Naw, I'm..." he looks off to the side. Sheepish. "Kind of into it." 

Even now, he's still Rhett. Bold one moment and shy the next, his impulses always a moment quicker than everything else. You don't need to ask if he's mortified about saying that out loud; the big dummy is already showing it. Gulping so hard that you can see the muscles in his neck flex with the effort, his cheeks three shades redder. 

You throw one of your legs over his, straddling it, the silence broken by the sound of your knee hitting the floor a little too hard. And again, he covers his mouth when your thigh grinds into him, but he fails to conceal the slight roll of his eyes. Breathing hard through his nose, impulsively twitching up into your touch.

"You're something else, cowboy," you can't help but find your way to his jaw, pressing kisses into the soft outline of bone. His legs flutter around your thigh, clinging onto it as you work it against him. The arm around your shoulders tightens; you fear you might be anchored here. 

It's on the side of his neck that you can feel the faint rumble of a moan, so quiet that it fails to make its way past his hand, but it's there. You suppose you shouldn't be surprised about it, but your daydreams never involved getting around this obstacle. There's no way you're prying his hand away, not with how he uses the same damn hand to cling onto the back of a thousand-pound bull every Sunday night. 

Your lips make their way to the space below his ear, sucking lightly at an old scar that lingers there. He jumps. Hand coming off his mouth just long enough to audibly suck in a breath, cutting off the beginnings of a whine. His back rises off the ground, grinding into you the best he can. But it's not enough. He's still chasing you like he wants more, and you still can't hear him.

You're so quick to replace your thigh with your hand that you can almost deceive yourself into believing you've done this before. Palm pressing firm against his bulge, gently massaging the heel of it into him, and he jerks again. Impulsively reaching for your wrist, head tipping back, lips parted. 

"That...you...I..." he can't talk. Words broken apart by surprisingly ragged breaths. Worked up over so fucking little. It has no right to make you clench around his thigh; desperation is a hellishly contagious virus. 

You might be drooling. 

Lazy, you fall into the space next to him, your leg splayed over his, hyper-aware of the way you've just tucked yourself under his arm and how perfectly you fit. That rodeo buckle falls open at the slightest pressure, button popping open just as eagerly. He shouldn't get anything out of the sensation of you tugging on his zipper, but his hips rise as if he can feel every bit of it. 

The moment your hand wraps around his cock, his head thunks against yours. Not hard enough for it to hurt, but the impact still makes you wince.

"Ow."

"I'm sorr—" his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Biting back a noise as your thumb blindly traces the underside of his tip. "Sorry. Shit." 

If only you could go back in time and tell yourself to do this sooner. You don't know how you can ever expect to go back from this. Lying with your head propped on the side of his chest, gingerly drawing him through the opening of his jeans, the head of his cock so wet that it glistens in the firelight, a bead of precum spilling over, barely caught by your thumb. 

Rhett's scruffy cheek presses against your forehead, blindly nuzzling into you as your hand wanders, gradually working down his length. It's such a simple motion, but his hips rise to chase you on your way back up, a stifled noise rumbling out of his chest. The tip of your index finger glides over his tip, rubbing past his slit and—

"Mmh!" Jumping like a live wire. Still muffled, but louder than last time. 

You can't help but repeat it, using your thumb to draw loose circles against his weeping tip. Those hips jump again, slipping from your grasp. But it doesn't take more than a second to get ahold of him again, a sharp little sound slipping out of him as you pick up right where you left off. Swirling around and around and around. 

"Who taught you how to..." He sucks in a breath. "Who taught..." But he can't finish that thought, trailing off into nothingness once more. 

You haven't the slightest clue where your voice has gone. Lost somewhere in your throat, stolen by the same thing that took Rhett's ability to speak. 

All of a sudden, he's moving. Rolling onto his side, blindly guiding himself with his nose until he can properly find your lips, stealing them away before you can find a way to talk. You don't know if you could have come up with words even if you wanted to. Not when he whines into your mouth like that.

Whatever you were trying to do before this is lost to the abyss. Too wrapped up in the feeling of his lips melting against yours and the tiny noises he's making to realize that you're properly stroking him now. Working up and down his cock as if you're already familiar with it, wrist lazily twisting on every upward glide.

"Shit, I'm—" His voice is raspy all of a sudden. "I..."

He doesn't finish that thought, either. Mouth hanging open with a silent moan, his hand reaching to cling to the side of your shoulder. Something to hang onto. He might crumble into a million tiny pieces if he doesn't. And he's panting into your mouth like a dog in the blistering heat; it's hardly even a kiss anymore, but neither of you is making any move to pull away. 

His breath audibly catches in his throat. Cock twitching, cumming with a whine. Painting your still-moving hand white, spreading over his length, makes this sickeningly loud squelching sound that ought to make your head swim. Fuck there's so much of it, rope after rope of white, making a damn mess that you haven't the slightest hope of cleaning up. 

"Sens—ah!" His big hand dwarfs your wrist as he grabs it. Forcing it still.��

"Too much?" 

"Too much." 

It's quiet. 

At least, it is for a moment or two. The wind squeals outside the fragile window, ripping around the edges of the cabin, frantically searching for a crack in the foundation to squeeze through, desperate to steal the heat of the fire out from under you. But the flames still dance, the wood crackling as it burns. 

The squeal of the wooden floor is your only indication that Rhett is moving, rolling over top of you in the blink of an eye. His mouth finds the side of your neck, the scruff clinging to his chin brushing against the skin there, as if the heat of his lips alone wasn't enough to make you gasp.

"I thought..." Words. Where the hell are your words? What were you even about to ask him?

"Never said I was done," his voice vibrates up your spine, rattling the thoughts swirling around your head. 

His body slips between your knees like it's something you've been doing for your entire lives. And maybe he did wind up there once a few months ago when you snatched the hat off his head and tried to flee the scene, but you don't remember it feeling quite like this. 

You don't get to linger on that thought for too long. Not when he's pepering kisses across your sensitive neck, his tongue boldly darting out to trace the outline of a vein. Heat flushes across your body. The tiny, invisible embers of a fire sparking to life, the smoke already beginning to cloud your head.

"Rhett," gasping. Now it's your turn to squeeze your legs around him, vaguely aware of how you can feel his hip bones pressing against you. Firm, nothing but muscle trained from a lifetime of ranch work, rippling under your touch. You can't help yourself, grabbing hold of a bicep with your only clean hand. 

And you can just barely catch how he pauses, peering up at you through thick lashes, like something has just occurred to him. Doesn't make any move to voice it, but his smile is enough of a hint. 

"Is this," smooching at the collar of your shirt, the flimsiest barrier that you wish wasn't there, "alright?"

On their own, your legs squeeze around him, forcing him closer. "More than alright." Because telling him that you never want him to stop might be a little too much too soon.

Big hands dip beneath your shirt, tracing with his nails as they glide up your sides. Your back arches up off the ground. Not sure if you're chasing the sensation or running away from it. The bottom of your shirt catches on his wrists, sliding up until he's pushed the fabric over your chest. 

"So fuckin' pretty," downright marveling at you, his eyes shimmering like he's just found a pot of gold. There's a whole night ahead of you, but he doesn't give himself time to linger. There's a whole lifetime of kisses to catch up on, and he's already getting started, peppering his way down your chest. 

You've waited all this time, only to have one available hand to use, forced to let go of his bicep and curl into his hair instead, fingers twirling in the loose curls that rest at his nape. Can't do both. Not without making a bigger mess out of your cum stained hand, and it might just be the worst thing that's ever happened to you. 

Because here he is. Real and warm and alive and kissing at the underside of your breast, those big blue eyes flickering up to drink in your expression, and you can't touch him how you want to. You feel like you're gonna float away. One more kiss, and you're gone. Out the window. Never to be seen or heard from again. One with the snow. 

Rhett laughs against your belly, almost sends you straight through the roof instead. "'m I takin' too long?"

"Huh?" Blinking.

"You're squintin' at me like you're mad 'bout somethin'," and now that he says that, you can feel your face begin to relax. 

"I'm not mad." Have your internal thoughts always been that obvious?

"Your little nose is scrunched up," kissing closer to the start of your sweats, poking his tongue out to lick his way down. "You're mad."

"I'm not mad," holding up your sticky palm, "I'm just frustrated that I can't use my hand." 

He was just in the process of curling his fingers beneath your waistband, but he pauses, fishing for something in his back pocket. That red handkerchief again. Passes it off to you before returning to the task at hand, but you're already one step ahead, lifting your hips until he's gotten the fabric over the swell of your ass. 

You don't realize he's stolen your underwear until the breeze hits you, thighs shyly squeezing together. Don't really know what for; it's not as if you weren't anticipating this, but now that you're in the moment...

Rhett tilts his head, looks kind of like a confused puppy sitting at your heels, those gears visibly twisting and turning in his head. His eyes widen with a thought, and before you know it, he's reaching for his own waistband, shoving them past his legs and over his ankles. 

Now you're both naked from the waist down. 

He reaches for your ankle, delicately lifting your leg until he can kiss at the inside of it. Not satisfied until he's marked every square inch of you. But your knees still remain defiantly glued together. Timid, as if you haven't thought about this more times than you'd like to admit. 

His hands dip beneath your naked thighs. Raking his nails down the sensitive skin there. And for a fleeting moment, the concept of worry has flown straight out the window, your legs falling open with a shiver. 

Fuck just the feeling of him kissing your inner thigh is enough to make you whine. A little spark of heat darting up your core is the tiniest thing, and yet it's the most overwhelming thing you've felt in your life. Because it's Rhett. It's Rhett fucking Abbott sucking a mark into your skin, right where it'll poke out from beneath your pajama shorts and tell everyone who sees it what you've been up to. 

"'s this too much?" He hums. He fucking hums. Sends you jumping.

"Yes." That's not what you wanted to say. "Maybe? No? I don't know." Your head thunks against the floor, can't give a damn about if it hurts or not.

Rhett pauses. "Want me to stop?"

"No!" Too loud. You said that way too loud. "No... I—I want you to keep going. It's just...new?" 

There go those hands again, massaging the fat of your thighs, stealing away whatever tension was lingering there. His mouth burns against them, working another mark into your skin, just in case the first one disappears too quickly. 

"You just tell me when it's too much, a'ight?" He murmurs, peering up at you, and it's all you can do to nod and utter a fragile 'yes.' 

There's a rising chance that he'll be bringing you home in a sack and spend the next week gluing you back together because you might fall apart at any given moment. Nerves alight with a newfound anxiousness. You don't know what for. This is Rhett you're talking about here. Same old cowboy that you've known for as long as you can remember. 

Lips find the thin skin where your thigh joins with the rest of your body. Jumping out of your skin is suddenly a very possible task. 

"Y've no idea how long I've been wantin' to do this." And that's the last thing you hear before his mouth is on you.

You might pass away on the spot. Off to heaven, hell, or whatever the fuck is out there. 

But all that comes of it is a hitched breath, a shudder racing through your body as his burning hot tongue licks a long strip up your cunt. Experimental. Does it again when your hips rise up off the floor; he's just started, and you're already impatiently chasing him. 

"Hang on, hang on. 'm takin' care of ya," you can hear the smile in his voice as he forces you back onto the floor. "Don't gotta chase me for it." 

It's a promise he's already making good on. 

Lazily mouthing at your clit, nothing but fleeting barely-there touches that have you squirming and biting into your fist. Oh, shit shit shit, he's twirling his tongue around it now, directly targeting that poor little bud for nothing but a few seconds.

Your whine is too damn loud for this little cabin; his folks probably heard you from ten miles up the road. But all Rhett does is curl his arms around your thighs, dragging you closer. One of your legs wind up over his shoulder, and you don't know when you started reaching down, but you're pawing at his forehead. Helpless as he prods his tongue at your entrance, pushing inside if only to feel you clench around him for a moment or two.

"Rhett," you don't know what you're babbling about. Didn't know you were talking until your ears catch the familiar tone of your own voice.

The bastard fucking hums, vibrating up your lower belly and through your spine, and again you're jumping. But you're not getting anywhere. Not with those arms around your thighs, holding you perfectly still as his tongue glides up through your folds, drawing a little figure eight around your clit. 

His lips wrap around it again, gently sucking on it as he flicks the tip of his tongue over it and—

"Too much!" Your hands are in his hair. Yanking him away. "Too much."

You don't know what the hell you'll do with the sight of Rhett's chin glistening in the light, thin lips stretched around a big ol' grin as he climbs back up your body. 

"Cute thing," he chuckles; you pretend you don't feel how wet his mouth is when he kisses your cheek.

He's already hard again. Cock so heavy that it can't even stand, resting against a pale, freckled thigh. It's so damn close to where you want him. Can only imagine what it would be like to feel him push into you for the first time, but there's an item critically missing here. 

Rhett's nose bumps against yours. "Y' look mad again."

"Because I just realized that we don't have lube," you grumble. 

...or maybe you do because he's on the move all of a sudden. Grabbing the pant leg of his discarded jeans and dragging them over, rustling through the pockets until he finds what he's looking for. 

Lube packets.

"Were you planning on this, or do you just keep lube on you at all times?" You can't help but ask, can't really believe what you're looking at right now.

"Believe it or not, I use it when that fuckin' barn door gets jammed," he pauses, tearing at the corner of a packet with his teeth, "but I'd rather it be you than a rusty hinge."

Eyeroll. "How romantic."

Even his oversized hand isn't enough to make his cock look any less intimidating; you thought it would dwarf in comparison, but it's almost as if the complete opposite has happened. Daunting, even as he strokes a generous amount of lube over himself. The voice in your head suggests that you might have bitten off more than you can chew, but there's only one way to find out for sure.

The calloused tip of his middle finger glides between your folds. Has you jumping a little bit. A slight pressure blooms, slowly pushing into you, his gaze fixated on the sight. It certainly feels bigger than it looked, if that is even remotely possible, blindly feeling around for a particular little spot.

The asshole knows he's found it before you even do. Pushing a second, dripping finger into you, deliberately crooking them to rub up into it. Heat sparks between your thighs. Pretty sure that's just the lube, but you're convinced that you can feel yourself getting wetter, already hopelessly desperate. 

"Rhett," mewling in a tone so unlike you that it's almost insulting. 

"What?" Tilting his head.

You didn't really think that far. Aren't particularly sure of what it is you want or why you're saying his name, but your arms lift themselves into the air, hands opening and closing in a vague grabbing motion. You still don't know what you initially wanted, but you sure would like to have him closer.

And he gives it to you. 

Carefully settles into your waiting arms without a fuss, his lips wrangled up into another one of those wild grins that you can never seem to get enough of. A strand of hair falls out from behind his ear, just long enough for the ends of it to tickle your cheek, drawing a giggle out of you. And for reasons unbeknownst to you, he giggles, too. 

His length rudely bumps against your thigh, demanding attention from both of you. Damn thing is so heavy that he has no choice but to reach down and guide himself, dragging the fat tip through your folds just for the hell of it. A slight pressure appears at your entrance. Then, disappears. Slipping upward and gliding past your clit instead. 

But then the pressure appears again, and this time he's not intentionally screwing up to mess with you. Air jams in your throat. 

"Gonna have to relax for me, sweetheart," he whispers; there's that pet name again. God, you might legally change your name to sweetheart just so he'll call you that every day for the rest of your life. Something in your lower belly unwinds. "There y' go." 

The fat tip slips into you without any further warning, simultaneously puts a shiver in your bones, and steals away the little bit of clarity that you had left. You don't even know what you're shaking for. The fire is still crackling next to you, albeit dimmer than it was before. The room is far from cold, but you can't seem to keep still, quivering like an autumn leaf in the breeze.

Rhett appears like a fucking daydream. Cradling your face in his hands, a sudden presence that you've somehow managed to forget about, murmuring something against your lips that sounds like your name. Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. You don't care to find out, too eager to steal him away in a kiss instead. 

Your arms wind around his shoulders, nails biting into the muscle that you find there, clinging to him for dear life as his cock gradually pushes into you. Inch after devastating inch, your chest progressively becoming tighter and tighter, as if you're running out of space to give. 

This can't be right. There's no way that you're really doing this. Lying here in the deserted cabin out on Calico Creek, nothing but a fire and Rhett's burning body to keep you warm, thighs squeezing his sharp hips as he sinks into you. It's a scene plucked right out of your own wild imagination. You should be waking up right now. Alone, in bed, like you have every other time this has happened.

But the scruffy chin that your hand has found its way to feels so real. The kiss breaks. Rhett leans back just far enough for you to catch sight of that stupid old grin, and holy shit, you've got Rhett fucking Abbott's cock in you right now. 

"Just a little more," he's murmuring so nonchalantly, and you really, truly, have no idea if that 'little more' is gonna fit or not. 

It either fits, or you pass away in the process of trying. The jury is still out for that one. One way or another, though, he's bottoming out, body flush with yours, not a centimeter left to take, and you think you've stopped breathing. Rhett has, too, for that matter. Completely and utterly quiet as he leans back, lashes fluttering at what he finds. 

"'m almost too big for your poor little pussy, shit." He's not staring; he's marveling at you.  "You're sure I ain't hurtin' ya?" The pad of his thumb traces where you're stretched around him, hopelessly bound together with no hope of ever untangling from each other.

Experimental, his hips roll, drawing a little noise past your lips. It's so much. So, so much. Helplessly curling your legs around his waist, heels digging into the swell of his ass, as if that can possibly save you. 

Rhett's not doing much better. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, timidly drawing back by an inch before pushing back in just as slowly as he did the first time. His labored breath burns through your skin, grumbling something incoherent below his breath. But he's doing it again, and now, now...

"Fuck, Rhett,"  whimpering, clinging to his shoulders. 

The fire could go out at this very moment, and you would never feel even a wisp of the cold, not with how he's already finding a lazy rhythm. Hardly pulling out, rocking your body beneath him. His weight is the only thing keeping you from scooting up the floor, little puffs of air knocked out of you with every thrust. 

He's got it just as bad as you do. Panting into your mouth like a dog, the softest noises resting in the back of his mouth. Still sensitive from already cumming once. 

All of a sudden, he draws back, and for a fleeting moment, you're horrified that he's already pulling out of you. But he's pushing back into you a little quicker now and, and, and...

"'s that feel good?" He's grunting, already peeling back to do that again. The length of his cock grazes against a familiar bundle of nerves. Stars sparkle behind your vision.

"Uhuh," all that you can come up with.

Now that he's found it, he's not letting up. Moving a little quicker now. A wet little noise punctuating the snap of his hips, your poor pussy helplessly fluttering around him, so fucking full of him that it almost aches. Writhing beneath him, torn between wriggling away from the sensation and pushing into it, as if you have any choice when you're pinned beneath him like this.

"Can feel ya clenchin' round my cock, sweetheart," he's grinning as he says it, cocky in the worst way imaginable. 

Your face is so hot that you're gonna catch on fire. "Please quit talking."

To his credit, he does exactly as you ask, but that does nothing to wipe the stupid fucking grin off his face. You can't escape it. Not when he's leaning back onto his haunches, just far enough to gaze down at where his thick cock disappears into you, and suddenly you can see it. Such a wide fucking stretch that you feel bite-sized beneath him.

The weeping head of his cock strikes those little nerves. Knocks a cry right out of you. And it's the worst possible thing you could have done because he's doing it again. Tilting his hips, working just a little quicker now, drilling into that same fucking spot. 

"'s that the spot?" He coos, breathless, his hands finding your hips, dragging you into. Every. Single. Thrust. "Fuck, I don't know how I even fit in ya."

You don't even know how to talk anymore, never mind put up with his senseless mutterings. Voice caught in your throat, your cries completely and utterly silent. Blindly pawing at his forearms. Squeezing. Clawing. You manage to get ahold of one, dragging it up to your chest like you're trying to hug the damn thing. 

"Rhett," your voice wavers, "Rhett, I want—" Closer. You want him closer. But all you can manage to do is pull on his arm.

Those pretty eyes widen. The next thing you know, he's coming back to you. Using his only forearm to brace his weight beside your head, his chest snug against yours once again. You only let go of his arm in exchange for his shoulders, practically pulling him into a hug. 

Rhett nuzzles his nose into the side of your cheek, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Don't want me too far away?"

"No," grumbling. 

You've got just enough leverage to crane your neck up, mouthing at the sweaty underside of his neck. You're not trying to leave marks. Not when you know that you'll have no choice but to face his family after this; it's only a matter of time before Perry puts two and two together, but you can't help yourself. Lips finding a space just beneath his ear, mindlessly sucking on the skin there, uncaring of what evidence you leave behind.

Rhett whines. Loud in your ear, sends your lower belly twisting with something inexplicably warm, pussy clamping down around him, drawing a second sound out of him. His arms shiver. Fighting to keep his weight up. Hardly has the strength to pull away from your mouth, his hips stuttering.

"Look how well you're takin' me," he's peeled back just far enough for you to get a glimpse, mouth hanging open, can't seem to shut himself up.

"It's mortifying." 

"It's hot." 

You'd argue. You want to argue, but fuck, you can't. Not when he's got you pinned to the floor like this, fat cock bullying into your poor pussy, panting into each other's mouths like it's the only thing you're good for. A lewd smack of skin on skin defiling every innocent memory you've ever had here. 

There's a familiar coil in your lower belly, your cunt clenching down around him, legs locking around him. Your vision blurs. Chest tight. "I'm..." 

"Yeah," he's agreeing before you've even finished your thought. 

It's the mistake of looking down that does you in. The obscene sight of his wet cock disappearing into you, those strong hips stuttering as you clench around him again, punctuated by that stupid breathy moan that falls off his tongue. 

Your back arches off the floor, burying your face into the crook of his neck as it hits you. Heart hammering against your chest. Ears ringing. Cumming around his cock with nothing but a choked wail. Helplessly clinging to him, squeezing him so tight that your arms ache from it.

The fire might as well jump out and engulf you in flames; everything is burning. Distantly aware of how your legs have begun to tremble again, locked so tight around him that you can feel him try and fail to pull away from you. Babbling something about how you need to let him go, one of his hands pawing at your thigh. Pushing, trying his best to peel you away.

But it's too late. His hips are seizing up, and your eyes are opening to the sound of his strangled whine, collapsing back into you. The muscles in his back twitch beneath your fingertips as his orgasm washes over him, cock spasming so hard that you can almost convince yourself that you feel his cum flooding you.

Oh.

Oh shit, he's cumming in you. 

You should be more worried about it than you actually are, lazily letting your legs unwind from around him, uncaring about the kind of problems that this is going to cause in a few minutes. Worry is beyond you, on a completely different plane of existence. The only thing your mind has the ability to comprehend is the warmth of Rhett's face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, a final shiver racing up his spine before he becomes dead weight on top of you.

"You..." he tries, breathless. "Was that...too much?"

You don't even know where your voice has gone, wordlessly laughing into his shoulder. "It was perfect," is what you try to say, but your poor tongue can hardly shape around the letters, nothing but a senseless warble leaving you instead. And maybe Rhett's got the same condition because whatever he says next makes no sense, either.

It takes a minute for him to roll off of you, and when he does, you wind up rolling with him, your naked back facing the fire. You don't really mean to, just mindlessly following, can't look away from him for more than a second. The fire isn't nearly as bright as it was when all of this first started, but certainly not any cooler. Heat licking up your sensitive back. Pleasant at first, but the longer it goes on...

"This fire is hot on my ass," your sentence makes sense this time. 

His hand drifts down onto your ass cheek. Your eyes roll. Rhett's face lights up with a giggle, lips twisting up into a smile that you need to kiss off of him. Even if you can't really lift your head, noses crashing, kisses reduced to fleeting pecks. 

"If I woulda known this was gonna happen, I promise I would've brought somethin' to clean you up with," he murmurs, reaching to brush something off of your jaw. You don't want to know what it is.

"If I had known this was going to happen," your momentum is interrupted by a yawn, "we wouldn't have made it out of my bedroom." 

He winks at you. "We can still make that happen."

"Oh my god." Eyeroll. You're gonna walk home. 

Or, you would if he didn't curl an arm around your waist and pull you into him like a teddy bear that he's suddenly decided he wants to snuggle. And you just fit into the space below his chin so perfectly that you can't possibly bring yourself to move. 

The wind wails outside, and the fire desperately needs tending to, but neither of you are moving. If anything, you're making it worse, tangling your legs together, wedging an arm around his torso, and for a moment, you can convince yourself that you can stay like this forever. Wrapped up in your favorite person, out here on Calico Creek, never to be seen or heard from again. Lost to the magic of winter. 

Your stomach growls. 

So does his.

Laughter spins through the air. 

Maybe forever out on this creek would only work if you had electricity and a snack. But you don't mind losing out on forever, so long as Rhett's with you. Just like he always has been, snowstorm or not. 

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

ask for a dance. l Joel Miller

Summary: some things have changed between you, although maybe they haven't changed at all

Warnings:  a little bit of angst, blood, crying, fluff (just a little)

A/N: your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

#2/2

The silence in that cursed house was deafening, or at least that was the impression Joel had. When he took you back to the building where you were staying, he secured the door tightly and made sure you were okay. Your hands were still shaking and you were dizzy, but you made your way to the bathroom on your own.

Your reflection in the mirror was terrifying and if you weren't sure it was really you... The blood of the man Joel had killed had already congealed on your face and hair, but not only there. 

You almost ripped off your shirt, which was still hanging on by the last button, and turned on the tap.

After a moment filled with a strange gurgling in the pipes, the water began to run. It was icy cold, but you barely felt it. 

You wanted to get rid of the crimson marks from your skin as quickly as possible, only after a while did you realize that your cheeks were also wet from your warm tears.

He heard it. He heard your sobbing and his heart broke into pieces again. He remembered perfectly what happened once when he found you sitting in the bathtub, now it was all happening again.

"Hey, it's okay."

A warm hand stroked your back and rested on the back of your neck. A quiet sob shook your body. You wiped your face from the tears.

"I'm sorry..." you groaned "I shouldn't have."

Joel sighed "Of course you should. And I'm here with you."

He was and wanted to be there for you, just like you always were for him. After a few minutes, the crying calmed down, and he patiently stroked your shoulders.

"We should go back to Jackson." You finally said in a hoarse voice "If we're late, they'll think something happened to us."

He nodded and after a moment handed you something. "Put this on. Your shirt... I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Thank you."

You smiled weakly and pulled on the shirt that Joel wore under his shirt. It didn't take you long to gather your things and set off to Jackson. 

You barely spoke. Joel glanced at you every now and then, trying to keep an eye on you in case you needed help, but you walked resolutely, as if filled with the thought that you wanted to be in a safe space already.

After a few hours, when you stood at the edge of the forest and in the distance you saw the walls of Jackson, he finally heard your voice.

"I haven't thanked you yet..."

He looked at you and smiled slightly, "You know you don't have to. I'll do anything for you."

You nodded.

"Sometimes I think that all this has changed us so much that our loved ones wouldn't recognize us anymore."

He lowered his gaze. There was something in those words. Joel hesitated himself, but finally answered.

"That's why we have each other, right? To keep our senses."

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

You entered Jackson arm in arm, but your lateness was noticed and soon Tommy was at the gate to ask what was the cause. Joel told him everything. Maybe he wasn't happy that Walsh was right next to you and showed obvious concern, but Joel didn't let anything show on his face.

"You should rest." Tommy said after a moment. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." You replied trying to sound convincing.

"I'll walk her." Walsh added.

"Thanks, Shane."

You smiled slightly at Joel again and headed towards where your apartment was. For a long moment he watched you walk away with Shane by your side.

"You allowed it, dude." Tommy muttered, patting him lightly on the back. "Go back to your place. Rest."

But Joel wasn't sure he was able to rest in this empty and quiet house.

He knew the song even though he thought his brain had long since forgotten it. Despite everything, the words formed in his head as if he had only heard it yesterday.

Joel had never been a fan of these dances. Of course, the community had to integrate and spend time together, maybe he would feel like it too someday. 

Whatever party was going on in Jackson, Joel only went there because of you. You could follow him for so long that he would finally give in. To tell the truth, he wanted to say "Yes, I'd love to go with you" with your first request, but he really liked teasing you. Sometimes he was the one telling you about these dances, he loved seeing your eyes widen with joy.

And here he was, clutching a bottle of beer, listening to the other men's conversations and looking around the room hoping that he would finally see you.

"She'll come," Shane said, smiling, "She promised me that."

He didn't like that statement, but there was nothing he could do. Walsh was younger than him, around forty, women liked him, but somehow it was you who caught his eye. 

Joel had known that for some time. He had noticed Shane's gaze when you were nearby. No wonder, you were beautiful, even he wasn't blind, and others must have noticed it too.

Eventually Walsh and another man decided to join a group of people playing darts and Joel was left alone again.

He felt a familiar shiver on his back when you touched him and smiled to himself.

"You kept me waiting for a long time." he mumbled.

"You really waited for me, Miller? I'm surprised I even see you here." you replied, not hiding your mirth as you stood in front of him. "I thought you didn't like places like this."

"You know..." Joel shrugged. "A certain pushy girl is always pestering me to go there, to socialize with people."

"Oh!" you raised your eyebrows.

"Of course I mean Ellie."

"Of course." You bit your lip and looked around.

Joel was pleased to see that you were in quite good shape. Your eyes were full of life again, you were even smiling at him.

"Will you dance with me?" he suggested when the song changed to a slightly calmer one.

And that smile again. "With pleasure."

It was wonderful to be able to hold you in his arms again. Your chest against his, your fingers playing with the curly hair falling on his neck. Joel had the impression that you felt it too - this was your place.

"Listen..." he began quietly as you slowly turned to the words of some song that he could barely hear anymore. "I want you to know that no matter what happens, I will always... Always be there for you."

He felt you hold your breath.

"Joel..." you started slowly, but he didn't want you to finish, he wanted to finally get it all out. He wanted to get rid of this burden.

"I know I hurt you. I was an asshole..." he said quietly, straight into your ear "I was afraid that if we were close, you would become another person I would lose. But you were already more than that. I'm sorry. I should have found more courage, you always had it."

"Joel." you lightly squeezed his hand "Sometimes I think it's a miracle that we found each other in this fucked up world. Or maybe it's just a stupid joke... Despite everything, no matter what happens I..."

"Hey! Can I ask her to dance?" Walsh's laughing voice rang out beside you and someone patted Joel on the back "I didn't notice when you came!"

"I..." you started, but Joel had already let go of you and only then did you realize that a different song had been playing for some time.

You didn't have time to say anything more when Shane pulled you in the other direction, you only managed to throw a quick glance at Joel and the world spun before your eyes.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist

[brookediamonds]

Just wanted to say that I love your fics! You are such an awesome writer! 👏😊

And can you maybe do a fic based on the song “my ex’s best friend” by Machine Gun Kelly and Backbear?

my ex's best friend (part one)| Axel Kovačević x Fem!Reader

Summary: Trying to put yourself out there again after a break-up, you're dragged to a party where you come across a familiar face who's been waiting for you this entire time. Your ex's best friend.

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: Smut, p in v, fingering, wrap it before you tap it, 18+, minors dni

gif is not mine

The break-up wasn’t messy.

No screaming, no slammed doors, no betrayal. Just a slow, inevitable unraveling. Miguel walking one way, you walking another.

You told yourselves you’d stay friends. 

We’re still good, right? Miguel had asked, hopeful.

And you nodded, smiling even as something inside you cracked. Of course.

But then Sam happened.

Sam, your best friend. Sam, the one who had sworn she would never look at Miguel that way.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t yell. You just left. Blocked their numbers. Walked past them in the hall like they were strangers. Built a new version of yourself that didn’t include them.

But the loneliness crept in late at night, in the quiet moments when you couldn’t drown it out.

So, you found ways to fill the silence.

Which is exactly how you ended up at this party, red cup in hand, pretending to care about whatever Zack from Economics is saying about cryptocurrency. 

The bass thumps through the floorboards, vibrating up through your shoes. You nod at appropriate intervals while scanning the crowded living room.

"So anyway, that's why I'm telling everyone to invest now," Zack concludes, taking a swig from his cup.

"Fascinating," you say, though you haven't heard a word. Your eyes catch on Tory, waving frantically from across the room. Rescue.

"I should—" you gesture vaguely, and Zack nods, already turning to find his next victim.

Tory a grabs your arm when you reach her. 

"You looked like you were being held hostage," she laughs, pressing a fresh drink into your hand. "Having fun yet?"

"Define fun," you say, taking a sip from the cup. The liquid is sweet and strong—some concoction that tastes like fruit punch but hits like something much stronger.

Tory rolls her eyes. "Come on, it's better than sitting at home scrolling through Netflix for two hours before giving up and going to sleep at nine."

She's not wrong. But before you can admit it, a pair of arms snake around her waist from behind. 

"There you are," Robby says, nuzzling his face into Tory's neck. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright with the particular gleam that comes after three beers. "We're starting another round of beer pong. Need a partner."

Tory gives you an apologetic look. "Want to come watch?"

But Robby is already tugging her backward. "Hurry up, Tory," he whines, pulling her deeper into the crowd.

"I'll catch up!" you call after them, knowing you won't.

You sigh, taking another sip of your drink. The sweetness barely masks the burn of cheap vodka. 

The living room has grown more packed, bodies pressed together like sardines, the air thick with perfume, sweat, and spilled beer.

You decide to find some air.

Threading your way through the crowd, you push toward what you hope is the kitchen. 

Someone's elbow catches you in the ribs, another person steps on your foot. By the time you break free into the relative calm of the hallway, half your drink has sloshed onto your hand.

"Great," you mutter, shaking droplets from your fingers.

The kitchen is mercifully emptier, just a few people gathered around the island mixing drinks. You head for the sink, setting down your cup to rinse your sticky hand. 

The cool water feels good against your skin, a momentary relief from the chaos of the party.

"I never understood the appeal of jungle juice," comes a low voice from behind you. "It's basically sugar, food coloring, and regret."

You freeze, water still running over your fingers. That voice. The slight accent that wraps around certain words, softening them at the edges.

You turn slowly, and there he is—Axel Kovačević, leaning against the doorframe. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt that makes his pale skin look even more striking. 

His light brown hair is slightly tousled, like he's been running his fingers through it.

"Hey," you say, your voice coming out softer than intended.

Axel pushes himself off the doorframe with a fluid motion and walks toward you. 

There's something predatory in the way he moves—deliberate, measured, like he's always aware of exactly how much space he occupies.

"Didn't expect to see you here," he says, reaching past you to grab a clean cup from the counter. His arm brushes yours, and you catch the faint scent of his cologne.

You turn off the faucet, suddenly self-conscious of your wet hands. "Yeah, well... Tory dragged me."

"Ah," he nods, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "And then abandoned you for beer pong with Robby."

"You saw that?"

"I see a lot of things," Axel says, his blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your skin warm. "Including how quickly you tried to escape Zack's crypto lecture."

You laugh despite yourself. "You were watching me?"

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he pours something amber-colored into his cup. "Maybe. It was quite the performance—all those interested nods while your eyes screamed for help."

"Didn't realize I was so transparent," you say, reaching for a paper towel to dry your hands.

Axel leans against the counter beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch. "Only to someone who's paying attention."

There's something in the way he says it—soft, almost intimate—that makes your pulse quicken. 

You've known Axel for years, of course. Miguel's best friend. Always there, always watching from the sidelines. 

But something feels different tonight. The way he's looking at you, like he's seeing you properly for the first time.

"This kitchen's getting crowded," Axel says, glancing over his shoulder as a group of laughing sophomores stumble in. "And that music is giving me a headache."

You nod, suddenly aware of how the bass is vibrating through the floor, making the glassware in the cabinets rattle slightly. 

The kitchen, once a refuge, is now filling with people looking for more drinks or snacks.

"Want to go somewhere quieter?" he asks, his voice dropping a notch lower. "I found a spot upstairs earlier—the study has actual comfortable furniture and a door that closes." 

He lifts his cup slightly. "I've got a much better bottle than whatever they're serving in those red cups."

Your eyes flick to the doorway where a couple is now making out against the refrigerator, and back to Axel. 

Something about his invitation feels significant, like stepping over an invisible line.

"Lead the way," you say, picking up your cup.

Axel smiles—not his usual smirk, but something genuine that reaches his dark blue eyes. He gestures for you to follow him, and you weave through the crowd together, his tall frame creating a path that you slip through behind him.

The staircase is less crowded, though a few people sit on the steps, deep in conversation. Axel's hand finds the small of your back as you navigate around them, his touch light but steady. Your skin tingles beneath your shirt where his fingers rest.

"Watch the step," he murmurs close to your ear as you reach a slightly uneven part of the staircase. His breath is warm against your neck, sending a small shiver down your spine.

At the top of the stairs, the noise of the party seems to recede slightly, like you're moving underwater. The hallway is dimly lit, with closed doors lining both sides.

Axel leads you to the end of the corridor, pushing open a heavy wooden door. 

"After you," he says, stepping aside.

The study is exactly as he described—bookshelves lining one wall, a plush leather couch against another, and a large desk by the window. 

A single lamp casts a warm glow over the room, creating pools of gold light that soften the shadows. The bass from downstairs is just a distant pulse here, like a heartbeat.

"How did you even find this place?" you ask, running your fingers along the spine of a leather-bound book on the shelf.

Axel closes the door behind you with a soft click. 

"I explore," he says simply, setting his cup down on a side table. "Most people at parties never venture past wherever the alcohol is being served. They're missing out."

You move to sit on the desk and Axel comes over to stand near you. Not too close, just enough that you can feel the subtle shift in the air between you. 

The polished wood is cool beneath your thighs as you perch on its edge, your feet dangling slightly above the floor.

"So," he says, pulling a small flask from his back pocket. He unscrews the cap and offers it to you first. "Better than what you were drinking, I promise."

Your fingers brush as you take the flask, and you try to ignore the little jolt that runs through you at the contact. 

The metal is warm from being pressed against his body. You take a small sip, and the liquid burns pleasantly through your throat—smoother than the jungle juice, with notes of caramel and oak that linger on your tongue.

"Whiskey?" you ask, handing the flask back.

"Bourbon," Axel corrects, his fingers lingering against yours a moment longer than necessary. 

He takes a sip himself, his throat working as he swallows. A comfortable silence settles between you, punctuated only by the muffled thump of music from downstairs.

"It's been a while," Axel says finally, his eyes finding yours in the dim light. "Since we've talked. Really talked."

You nod, suddenly aware of how true that is. After the breakup, after Sam, you'd cut everyone off—including Axel, even though he wasn't directly involved. Miguel's best friend was part of that. 

You fiddle with the edge of your shirt, suddenly finding the pattern fascinating. "Yeah, well. Life moves on, right?"

Axel takes another sip from his flask, his eyes never leaving your face. "Does it? Because Miguel seems to think you've fallen off the face of the earth."

The mention of his name makes something twist in your chest. "Miguel doesn't get to have opinions about my life anymore."

"Fair enough," Axel says, leaning against the desk beside you, close enough that your shoulders almost touch. "What about me? Do I get to have opinions?"

You glance at him sideways. "About what?"

"About how you disappeared from everyone's lives. Including mine." There's no accusation in his voice, just a quiet curiosity that makes it hard to look away.

"I didn't think you'd notice," you say honestly.

Axel laughs, but there's no humor in it. The sound is hollow, almost pained. He turns to face you fully, one hand braced on the desk beside your thigh.

"Not notice you?" His voice drops to something just above a whisper. "That's the problem. I've always noticed you."

The air between you seems to thicken. You can count his eyelashes in the dim light, see the slight flush creeping up his neck.

"What does that mean?" you ask, your own voice barely audible over the distant thrum of the party.

Axel's eyes—those dark blue eyes that always seemed to be watching from the periphery—lock onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

"It means," he says, measuring each word carefully, "that I noticed you the first day Miguel introduced us. I noticed how you laughed with your whole body.”

"I noticed how you lit up when talking about your passions. I noticed how you always made room for people, even when they didn't deserve it." He takes a deep breath. "And I noticed how Miguel never saw what was right in front of him."

Your heart hammers against your ribs. "What?"

Axel sets the flask down on the desk, his movements deliberate. When he looks at you again, there's something raw in his expression.

"Miguel was my best friend. Is my best friend. But he was blind to what he had." His voice drops even lower. "He never saw how beautiful you are—not just here," he gestures vaguely toward your face, "but here." His hand hovers near your heart without touching you.

The air between you feels electric, charged with something you can't name.

"Axel..." you start, not sure what you're going to say. The words catch in your throat, trapped there by his intense gaze.

"I know I shouldn't say these things," he continues, running a hand through his hair. "He's my friend. But watching him with you..." He shakes his head slightly. "It was torture."

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

His laugh is soft, almost sad. "What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, man, I think you're taking your girlfriend for granted?' Or better yet, 'I can't stop thinking about her'?" 

The confession hangs in the air between you. His eyes search yours, looking for something—permission, perhaps. Or rejection.

"I never meant to feel this way," he says, his accent thickening with emotion. 

"But I watched him miss every single sign when you were upset. I saw him ignore what hurt you most," he continues, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "And I noticed things about you he never did."

His eyes drift down briefly before meeting yours again, a flush spreading across his cheekbones. "The way you bite your lip when you're concentrating. How your eyes catch the light when you laugh. The curve of your neck when you tilt your head to listen."

You feel heat rising to your face under his gaze, which has become more intense, more deliberate. His eyes travel down your body and back up in a way that makes your skin tingle.

"I noticed how you'd walk into a room and every head would turn," he admits, his accent becoming more pronounced with each confession. "The way that dress hugged your curves at Miguel's birthday party last year—I couldn't take my eyes off you all night."

He shifts his stance, moving with that same fluid grace that has always defined him, until he's standing directly in front of you. 

The desk puts you nearly at eye level with him, despite his towering height. 

Your knees part instinctively to accommodate him, and suddenly he's there, between your legs, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"I've tried not to look," he confesses, his voice rough around the edges. His hands come to rest on the desk on either side of your hips, not quite touching you but effectively caging you in. "I've tried to be respectful. To be the good friend. But god, do you have any idea what you do to me?"

The air between you feels charged, electric. His eyes, those deep blue pools that have always seemed to see right through you, now burn with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, leaning in closer. "Tell me this isn't what you want, and I'll walk away right now."

The logical part of your brain knows you should say it—tell him to back off, remind him that he's Miguel's best friend, that this crosses a line you can't uncross. 

But the words won't come. Instead, your heart pounds so loudly you're certain he can hear it.

"I can't," you breathe, your voice barely audible even to your own ears.

His eyes darken. "You can't what?"

"I can't tell you to stop," you admit, the confession spilling out before you can catch it. "I've thought about this too. About you."

The revelation hangs between you for a heartbeat, and then Axel moves. One hand slides up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheek.

His thumb traces your bottom lip, sending shivers down your spine. 

"Say it again," he murmurs, his voice husky. "Tell me what you want."

"You," you whisper, the word hanging in the air between you. "I want you, Axel."

Something snaps in his expression, a final thread of restraint breaking. He leans in, closing the last inches between you, and then his lips are on yours.

The first touch is gentle, almost tentative, a question. But when you respond, parting your lips slightly, the kiss transforms. 

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss with a hunger that takes your breath away.

You taste bourbon on his tongue, his other hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. 

You pull him closer to you, grinding against him. The friction sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and you feel him respond immediately, his breath catching in his throat. 

His hands move to your hips, guiding your movements as you arch against him.

"I've thought about this," he murmurs against your lips, "for so long."

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving a path of fire wherever he touches. 

You tilt your head back, giving him better access as his teeth graze your sensitive skin. Your fingers thread through his brown hair, softer than you'd imagined.

"Tell me," you breathe, barely recognizing your own voice. "Tell me what you've thought about."

Axel pulls back slightly, his dark blue eyes almost black with desire. The flush on his pale cheeks has deepened, spreading down his neck.

"Everything," he confesses, his accent thick with desire. "The way you'd look in my arms, how you'd sound saying my name, how your skin would feel against mine."

His hands move to your thighs, the heat of his palms burning through the denim of your skirt. Your breath catches as his fingers trace small circles just above your knees.

"I've imagined touching you like this," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Imagined what you'd do if I..."

He trails his hands up your thighs, softly pushing your jean skirt up. The fabric bunches around your hips as his fingers trace patterns on your bare skin. 

Each touch sends electricity coursing through you, making it hard to breathe, to think.

"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice rough with restraint.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. His hands hesitate at the edge of your underwear, his eyes searching yours for permission.

"Yes," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the distant thump of bass from downstairs.

That single word breaks something loose in him. His fingers slide higher, tracing the edge of your underwear with a touch so light it makes you shiver. 

You feel your breath catching as his fingertips ghost over the fabric, testing, teasing.

"I've dreamed about this," he confesses, his voice rough with desire. "Touching you like this. Watching your face when I do."

And he is watching. Those eyes fixed on yours, catching every reaction, every flutter of your eyelashes, every caught breath. 

His gaze is almost as intoxicating as his touch.

You can only moan, unable to form words as his fingers finally make contact. The pressure is gentle at first, exploratory, as he strokes you through the thin cotton. 

Your hips instinctively arch into his touch, seeking more.

"You're so responsive," he murmurs, his accent thickening with desire. "So beautiful like this."

His other hand slides up your side, fingers splaying across your ribs, then higher, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your shirt. 

The dual sensation makes you gasp, eyes fluttering close 

His fingers hover at the edge of your underwear, and your breath catches in anticipation. 

With deliberate slowness, Axel hooks his finger under the elastic and gently pulls the fabric to the side. The cool air hits your exposed skin, making you shiver.

"God," he breathes, his voice rough with desire. His eyes flick up to yours, dark and intense. "You're so wet already."

You can only whimper in response as his fingertip traces your entrance with light touches. Your hips cant forward instinctively, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of him.

"Patience," he whispers, leaning forward to press his lips against your neck. "I've waited so long for this. Let me savor you."

His finger slides through your folds, exploring with gentle curiosity. 

Every touch sends sparks shooting up your spine. 

When one finger slips inside you, your head falls back, a moan escaping your lips.

"Axel," you breathe, his name like a prayer on your tongue.

He adds a second finger, curling them slightly, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. 

His thumb finds your clit, circling with just the right pressure to make your thighs tremble.

"You feel incredible," he murmurs against your neck, his voice strained with his own desire. "So perfect."

Your hands grip his shoulders, feeling the lean muscle beneath his shirt. His fingers work inside you, building a rhythm that has you panting, teetering on the edge of something magnificent.

But it's not enough. Not nearly enough.

"Axel," you say, your voice breathy but determined. You pull back just enough to look into his eyes. 

The dim light of the study makes the blue of his irises seem deeper, more intense. 

His pupils are blown wide with desire, his breath coming in short bursts that match your own.

"I need more," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. Your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. "I want to feel you. All of you."

His fingers still inside you, and for a moment, he just looks at you—really looks at you—like he's memorizing every detail of your face.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his accent thicker than you've ever heard it. There's vulnerability in his question, a hesitation that makes your chest tighten.

In answer, you reach for his belt, your fingers fumbling slightly with the buckle. "I've never been more sure in my life."

His hands tremble slightly as he works open his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle seems unnaturally loud in the quiet room. 

You help him, your fingers brushing against his as together you undo his jeans.

When you push them down his hips, he lets out a shaky breath that warms your neck. His underwear does little to hide how much he wants you.

"I've thought about this so many times," he murmurs, voice rough with desire as he steps out of his jeans. "But nothing compares to the real thing. To you."

You pull him closer, wrapping your legs around his waist. The desk creaks beneath you as he presses forward, his hardness rubbing against your core through the thin fabric of his underwear.

"Take these off," you whisper, tugging at the waistband.

He complies, stepping back just enough to push the fabric down his hips. Your breath catches as he springs free, and for a moment, you just look at him.

The lean muscles of his torso tapering down to narrow hips, the light dusting of hair trailing below his navel, the unmistakable evidence of how much he wants you.

When you reach for him, wrapping your fingers around his length, Axel lets out a sound that's half-groan, half-gasp.

His eyes flutter closed for a moment, long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His skin is hot against your palm, velvet over steel.

"God," he breathes, his accent thick with desire. "Your touch..."

You stroke him slowly, savoring the way his breath hitches, the way his muscles tense beneath your free hand. His face is a study in barely contained control. 

His lips parted, eyes half-lidded but watching you intently. When you run your thumb over the tip, collecting the moisture there, his whole body shudders.

"I need you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Now."

He positions himself between your thighs, one hand bracing against the desk beside your hip. The other cups your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip with a tenderness that contrasts with the hunger in his eyes.

"Wait," he says suddenly, his voice strained. He pulls back slightly, reaching for his discarded jeans. "I need to—"

"I'm on the pill," you tell him, your fingers trailing up his arm, feeling the subtle definition of muscle beneath his pale skin. "If you're okay with that..."

His eyes widen slightly, searching your face. "You sure?"

In answer, you pull him closer, wrapping your legs more firmly around his waist. 

"Yes," you breathe, pulling him closer. "I want to feel all of you, Axel. Nothing between us."

A soft groan escapes him at your words, his eyes darkening further 

The world narrows to this single point of contact as he pushes inside you with agonizing slowness. 

Your breath catches in your throat as he fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way possible. 

His forehead presses against yours, eyes locked on yours, watching every flicker of expression that crosses your face.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, his accent thicker than you've ever heard it, voice strained with the effort of holding still.

You can only nod, overwhelmed by the feeling of completeness, of rightness. 

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as your body adjusts to the intrusion.

"You feel..." He trails off, seemingly unable to find the words. His eyes close briefly, dark lashes fanning against his flushed cheeks. "Perfect. So perfect."

Then he begins to move, pulling back slowly before pushing forward again. 

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure radiating through your body. The desk creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with your breathless gasps and his low groans. 

His pace is measured, controlled, each movement deliberate and deep.

But it's not enough. The coiling tension inside you demands more.

"Axel," you breathe against his ear, your voice barely recognizable to your own ears. "Harder."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark blue eyes searching yours. 

"You want me to go harder?" The concern in his voice makes something flutter in your chest, even as desire burns through your veins.

"Yes," you whisper, fingers tangling in his light brown hair. "Please. I need more of you."

Something shifts in his expression, an undeniable hunger breaking through his careful control. 

With one fluid motion, Axel sweeps away the few items on the desk's surface. His strong hands grip your waist, pushing you backward until you're lying flat against the polished wood. 

The cool surface presses against your heated skin as he towers over you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Like this?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear.

Before you can answer, he takes your right leg and lifts it, positioning it over his shoulder. 

The new angle makes you gasp as he slides impossibly deeper. His fingers dig into your thigh, holding you steady as he begins to move with renewed purpose.

"Oh god," you moan, your back arching off the desk. 

The position leaves you completely exposed to him, vulnerable in the most exquisite way. Each thrust hits places inside you that make stars burst behind your eyelids. 

Your hands scramble for purchase on the smooth surface, finally gripping the edges of the desk as pleasure builds inside you.

"Axel, yes," you cry out, no longer caring if anyone downstairs might hear. The world has narrowed to just this, his body moving against yours, inside yours, claiming you completely.

His free hand slides up your body, pushing your shirt higher, exposing your stomach to the cool air. 

His fingers trace patterns on your skin, teasing higher until he's cupping your breast through your bra. 

When his thumb brushes over your nipple, even through the fabric, a shock of pleasure courses through you, making you clench around him.

"You're incredible," he breathes, his eyes never leaving your face. "So beautiful like this."

The intensity of his gaze as he watches you—really watches you—sends a thrill through your body. 

It's nothing like it was with Miguel. With Miguel, it had been comfortable, familiar, routine. 

He'd known what worked and stuck to it. But this—Axel's eyes never leave yours, studying every reaction, every gasp, adjusting his movements accordingly. 

He's learning you, memorizing you.

His movements grow more urgent, more demanding. The desk creaks beneath you as his thrusts become deeper, harder, exactly what you need. 

Each stroke hits a spot inside you that makes your toes curl, your breath catch in your throat.

"Look at me," he commands softly, his accent thickening with desire. "I want to see your face when you come."

Your eyes lock with his, and the connection is almost too much—too intimate, too raw. There's something in his gaze that Miguel never had when you were together. A hunger, yes, but also something like reverence.

One of his hands slides between your bodies, finding the bundle of nerves at your center. His fingers circle with just the right pressure, just the right rhythm, as if he's studied your body for years.

"How do you know exactly..." you gasp, words failing as pleasure builds inside you.

A small, smug smile curves his lips. 

"I told you," he whispers, his voice rough with desire. "I've been watching you for years. Noticing everything about you."

The pressure inside you builds, coiling tighter with each thrust, each circle of his fingers. Your breathing comes in short gasps now, your body trembling on the edge of release.

"Axel," you moan, his name falling from your lips. "I'm close. So close."

His movements become more intense, more deliberate. The controlled rhythm gives way to something more primal, more desperate. 

His breathing is ragged, his skin flushed and glistening in the dim light.

"That's it," he encourages, his accent thicker than you've ever heard it. "Let go for me. I want to see you come undone."

The pressure builds to an almost unbearable point, a tidal wave gathering force at the edge of your consciousness. 

Your body tenses, back arching off the cold wood as the first waves of your orgasm crash through you. 

"Axel!" His name tears from your throat, a desperate, pleading sound that echoes in the quiet room.

Your entire body pulses around him as pleasure radiates outward from your core, sending shockwaves of sensation to your fingertips, your toes, the top of your head. 

Your vision blurs at the edges, the world narrowing to just this moment, just him.

"God, you're beautiful," Axel groans, his voice strained as he watches you come apart beneath him. His movements grow erratic, his rhythm faltering as your body clenches around him. "The way you look right now—"

His words dissolve into a guttural moan as his control finally shatters. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, urging him on. 

"Don't stop," you pant, running your hands up his arms, feeling the muscles trembling with exertion. You pull him down towards, until your foreheads touch.

Something breaks in his expression, the last thread of control snapping. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you completely. 

His release comes with a shudder that runs through his entire body, a deep groan torn from his throat as he pulses inside you. 

The sensation of warmth spreading inside you is exquisite, intimate in a way you've never experienced before. 

You moan at the feeling of him spilling his seed inside of you, your body clenching around him, drawing out every last pulse. 

The connection feels primal, and ancient, something beyond words as your bodies communicate in the oldest language known to humanity.

"Oh my god," you breathe, your voice barely audible over the sound of your combined ragged breathing.

Axel's forehead is still pressed against yours, his eyes closed, long lashes fanned against his flushed cheeks. 

He's trembling slightly, aftershocks running through his lean frame. When he finally opens his eyes, the intensity in them makes your breath catch. 

The dark blue is almost black in the dim light, pupils still blown wide with pleasure.

"That was..." he starts, then shakes his head slightly, seemingly at a loss for words. His thumb traces your cheekbone with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "I don't have the words."

You're lying on the desk, your body still humming with aftershocks of pleasure, feeling more alive than you have in months. 

The wood is cool against your back, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Axel's body above you. His weight is pleasant, grounding you in this moment that feels almost dreamlike.

"I do," you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips. "That was fucking amazing."

Axel's serious expression cracks, and he laughs—a genuine laugh that transforms his face, softening the sharp edges and making his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

The sound is rich and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket.

"Always so eloquent," he teases, but his eyes are soft, tender in a way that makes your heart flutter.

With gentle hands, he helps you sit up, his movements careful as if you're made of something precious. 

The desk creaks beneath you as you shift, your body pleasantly sore in ways you haven't felt in a long time. 

The gentleness in his movements is almost more intimate than what you had just experienced. 

Axel bends down to retrieve his underwear from the floor, sliding them up his long legs in one fluid motion. 

You watch, still perched on the edge of the desk, as the fabric clings to his lean muscles. 

"You're staring," he says, a smile playing at his lips as he steps into his jeans.

"Can you blame me?" Your voice comes out huskier than intended, still raw from your earlier cries.

He fastens his belt, the metal buckle clinking softly in the quiet room. The sound brings you back to reality—to the party still raging downstairs, to the fact that you're half-dressed on a stranger's desk.

"Come here," he says, his voice soft as he extends his hand to you.

You take it, sliding off the desk. Your legs wobble slightly, and he steadies you with a hand at your waist, his touch warm through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Easy," he murmurs, his accent making the word sound like a caress. "No rush."

"We should probably..." You gesture vaguely at your disheveled state. 

Axel nods, his eyes still dark with lingering desire. 

"Let me help you," he says softly, reaching for your shirt that's ridden up nearly to your bra.

His fingers brush against your skin as he gently tugs the fabric down, smoothing it over your stomach with careful attention. The touch is gentle but sends shivers across your skin nonetheless.

"Turn around," he murmurs, his accent caressing the words. "Your skirt is all..." He makes a twisting motion with his hand, a hint of color rising to his pale cheeks.

You spin slowly, feeling surprisingly vulnerable in this moment of tenderness after what you've just shared. 

His hands settle on your hips, warm and steady as he adjusts your skirt, making sure the fabric falls properly. His fingers linger at the small of your back, tracing small circles there.

"Your hair," he murmurs, stepping behind you. His fingers thread through the tangled strands, gently working out the knots that formed while you were writhing beneath him on the desk. 

There's something reverent in the way he touches you—like he's handling something precious, irreplaceable.

You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he carefully smooths your hair. His fingertips occasionally brush against your neck, sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"There," he says softly, his breath warm against your ear. "Beautiful again."

You turn to face him, suddenly shy despite the intimacy you just shared. "I wasn't before?"

Axel's eyes soften, the dark blue warming like a summer sky at dawn. 

"You're always beautiful," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Even when you're a complete mess."

The teasing lilt in his voice makes you smile despite yourself. You reach up to straighten his collar, which has gone askew during your encounter.

"You're not so bad yourself," you reply, smoothing the fabric between your fingers. "When you're not being all broody and mysterious."

He catches your hand as you pull away, bringing your fingers to his lips. 

The gentle kiss he presses against your knuckles is so at odds with the passionate intensity from moments ago that it makes your heart stutter in your chest.

"I should probably find Tory," you say reluctantly, even as your body leans toward his like a flower seeking sunlight. "Let her know I'm still alive."

Axel nods, but doesn't release your hand. 

"Or," he says, voice dropping to that low register that sends warmth pooling in your belly, "we could just leave. Together."

The suggestion hangs in the air between you, full of possibility. 

You feel your pulse quicken at the thought of leaving with him, of continuing what you've started in the privacy of your own space.

"Drive me home?" you ask, your voice soft but steady.

His eyes light up, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I'd love nothing more."

You gather your things, checking your appearance one last time in a small mirror hanging on the wall. 

Your cheeks are still flushed, your lips slightly swollen from his kisses. There's a subtle glow about you that can't be explained away by the dim lighting.

Axel opens the study door, peering out to check the hallway. 

"Coast is clear," he says, holding the door for you.

The party seems to have grown even louder downstairs, the bass thumping through the floorboards as you make your way down the stairs. 

Axel's hand finds yours in the crowd, his long fingers intertwining with yours. The simple touch feels intimate, a silent claim that sends a thrill through you.

You spot Tory by the beer pong table, cheering as Robby sinks a ball. 

Her face lights up when she sees you, then her eyes widen slightly as she notices Axel beside you, your hands linked.

"Hey!" she shouts over the music, weaving through the crowd toward you. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere!"

"Just getting some air," you say, aware of the half-truth in your words. "It was too loud down here."

Tory's eyes flick between you and Axel, a slow smile spreading across her face as understanding dawns. 

Her gaze drops to your joined hands, then back up to your flushed cheeks.

"I'm heading out," you tell her, raising your voice to be heard over the music. "Axel's going to drive me home."

"Oh, is he now?" Tory's eyebrows shoot up, her smile turning mischievous. She leans in closer, her lips nearly brushing your ear. "What happened to 'I'm just going to make an appearance and leave'?"

You feel heat rising to your cheeks. "Plans change."

"I can see that." She pulls back, her eyes dancing with amusement as she gives Axel an appraising look. “Take care of her."

"I intend to," Axel responds, his voice low and serious despite the playful gleam in his eyes. The promise in those three simple words sends a shiver down your spine.

Tory gives you a knowing look, mouthing "details later" before Robby calls her back to the beer pong table. 

She offers a little wave as she disappears back into the crowd, leaving you and Axel standing in the pulsing heart of the party.

"Ready?" Axel asks, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of your hand.

You nod, suddenly eager to escape the crowded house with its too-loud music and too many bodies. 

"Ready," you smile up at him.

The night air feels like a promise of something new, something just for the two of you.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

part two

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: thank you for your kind words! LOVED this one. gonna be working on my smut writing these next 2-3 one shots i apologize in advance)

[taeyongdoyoung]

intro (infected)

summary: your attempts to find out the identity of your stalker lead you right where you least except... characters: reader, heeseung, sunoo and sunghoon genre: thriller, dark romance(-ish) warnings: themes of stalking, non-consensual photography, blood-covered dolls, stealing clothes, invasion of privacy, breaking in, toxic characters, betrayal, knife, drugging, kidnapping, etc. please PLEASE read at your own risk author's note: the title is inspired by this amazing song and the story itself is strongly influenced by my dreams and insta/tiktok edits of enha lmao; also this is the first part in a trilogy part two & part three word count: 2.3k

You feel like you're losing your goddamn mind. The last month has been the worst of your life. You literally dread coming home to another one of your stalker's "surprises". Sometimes it's photos of you taken from afar. Sometimes you return to your apartment only to find clothes of yours missing. Sometimes you receive little "gifts". Like creepy dolls covered in blood. So sweet.

Why haven't you called the police, one may ask? Well, you've heard of similar cases and the truth is, the police never take women's complaints seriously. They always make up some bullshit excuse about there not being enough proof. Or they try to make it seem as if the woman was somehow "asking for it" by leading some guy on or whatever.

So, you're stuck in this situation, being horrified of returning to your home every fucking evening. You can't afford to move out right now so, there goes nothing. However, you honestly don't imagine continuing to put up with this any longer. Therefore, you decide to take some action.

There are only two people other than you who have a key to your place. Thus, there are only two suspects you can think of.

Suspect number one. Your loving, doting, precious boyfriend Heeseung. You cannot possibly imagine him doing something so vile. Plus, he already has you. There would be no motive for him to stalk you and send you weird stuff and steal your clothes. True, he can be kinda possessive sometimes but nothing that would raise any red flags. He cannot be your stalker, you are pretty much convinced.

Suspect number two. Your adorable, sweet, younger best friend Sunoo. Once again, you cannot picture him being behind this. And yet...sometimes he has this resting psycho face clouding his usually adorable features. You don't wanna judge him hastily and without any proof. But sometimes he looks kinda dangerous. You know it's not his fault, he was just born like that. You have to investigate somehow and get to the bottom of this.

So, like the fool you are, you share your concerns with suspect number one.

"I have a stalker," you admit to your boyfriend one afternoon while you're watching a movie on the couch.

"What?!" Heeseung exclaims in shock.

Okay, his reaction seems surprised enough. There's no way he's acting.

"For the past month I've been receiving pictures of myself, as well as some creepy dolls covered in blood. Oh, and some of my clothes have gone missing."

"That's crazy! Why haven't you reported it to the police yet?" Heeseung asks, holding your hand, deeply worried about your well-being.

"Ugh, as if the police will do anything to take my case seriously. I'll figure it out myself. Well, with your help, hopefully."

"Of course, anything you need, I'm here for you," Heeseung promises.

"So, actually, you're suspect number one," you chuckle, not at all concerned Heeseung is behind this. He cannot be.

"I am?" he laughs. "Darling, I hope you know I would never-"

"I know," you cut him off with a trusting smile. "But you're one of the two people, other than me, who has a key to my place. And there was no sign of a broken door or window, so, whoever it is, obviously owns a key."

"Who's the other suspect, then?"

"Sunoo," you confess.

"Sunoo?!" Heeseung can't help but laugh again. "There's no way. He's a total angel. I just can't see it."

"Yeah? I lowkey see it, he has this creepy face every once in a while. He could totally pull this off," you reason.

"Well, what are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna confront him. Judging by his reactions, I'll be able to determine if it's him."

"Do you want me to come with you?" Heeseung immediately offers.

"Nah, that might intimidate him and he may not be as honest as I'd like him to be. Don't worry, we'll meet in a public space, just in case."

"Uhh, I'm not sure if you feel better but sure. Call me rightaway if you need help."

"I will, I promise," you smile fondly and kiss your boyfriend on the cheek.

The following day, you are sitting in a café with your best friend Sunoo, sharing mint choco ice cream that is a favourite of you both.

"So, I have a confession to make," you blurt out, mouth still full. "I have a stalker."

"Oh my God!" Sunoo exclaims dramatically.

"Yeah...I keep receiving weird objects and photos of myself. Also, some of my stuff have gone missing in the past month."

"The hell?! That sounds terrifying, why haven't you contacted-"

"The police?" you snicker coldly. "They won't help me, I'm on my own."

"Well, you've got me!" Sunoo replies enthusiastically.

"That's funny, because you're one of my suspects."

"Me?" Sunoo pouts adorably. "Y/Nnie...I wouldn't do something like that to you."

"I'd really like to believe that, Sunnie, but you kinda scare me sometimes, not gonna lie."

"Hey! It's not my fault my face does that thing when I'm not smiling. I promise I'm not your stalker!" he gets a little too passionate in convincing you.

"To be honest, I don't really think it's you."

"Who's your other suspect, then?"

"Heeseung," you shrug. "He's the only other person who has a key to my place."

"It's not him," Sunoo responds confidently.

"That's exactly what he said about you!" you cry out.

"Why are you not suspecting him, though?" Sunoo eyes you suspiciously.

"Well, if it was him, he would be quick to place the blame on someone else, you, for example. Therefore, it cannot be him."

"Ooor, he's only defending me to mislead you into thinking he's the good guy."

"I'm not sure that's the case," you shrug it off.

"Okay, then, are you confident we are the only two people who can access your place so easily?"

You try to think deeper about it. And suddenly it hits you. There was one other person who used to have a key to your place. But he gave it back. A week after you broke up with him for punching your friend (at the time) Heeseung for "staring at you" and "flirting" all the time. A week would have given him plenty of time to make a copy of said key.

"Sunghoon used to have a key to my place," you say out loud.

"Your ex?" Sunoo's eyes widen in shock.

"But he gave it back...a week after we broke up."

"He could have made a spare, that's really easy nowadays."

You nod in agreement.

"What are you going to do? Now that you have your primary suspect?" Sunoo asks.

"I'm not going to sleep. One of these nights he'll show up and I'll be ready to confront him."

"That sounds dangerous. Wouldn't you feel better if Heeseung and I were there with you?" Sunoo suggests warmly.

You shake your head.

"I have you guys on speed dial. If something bad happens, I'll call you rightaway."

"You have us on speed dial and yet we were your two suspects. The loyalty is dead," Sunoo tsks disapprovingly.

"Hey! It's not my fault you'd make a good psycho character in a kdrama," you try to joke to alleviate the tension.

"Damn right, I would."

Three nights later and you've drunk more coffee than is probably normal. You're so stoked there's no way you'll fall asleep. But you are tucked under the covers on the couch, pretending to be sleeping. Honestly, it'd be kinda disappointing if no one shows up. You must be crazy. Are you seriously looking forward to confronting your stalker, whoever he is? It's probably Sunghoon. You'd be pretty shocked if it was Sunoo or God forbid, Heeseung. You love them too much to expect something so creepy coming from them.

After what feels like forever, you finally hear it. The sound of the front door being unlocked. Slowly, almost impossible to notice. You curse yourself for being such a heavy sleeper. If you had been awake some of the previous nights, you would have caught him sooner. You wouldn't have had to put up with this for an entire month.

Your heart is beating so rapidly you feel like you're going to die any moment now. In retrospect, this probably wasn't the greatest idea. You probably should have notified the police just in case. Oh well, it's too late now.

Steps. Approaching. Slowly. Then, faster. Fuck. He's not gonna...Is he? The sheets you're hidden under are removed in one swift movement. He is.

"Miss me, princess?" Sunghoon asks, his voice as velvety as you remember.

You can't find the strength to say anything, let alone scream. You were right! It was Sunghoon all along!

"Missed me so bad you waited for me on the couch?" he teases you, running a gloved hand down your cheek.

Sooo far from the truth. You just wanted to know who was tormenting you. You didn't miss him at all. All he ever did was bitch about you spending too much time with Heeseung. He was a jealous, insecure wreck and all of that somehow manifested into the current predicament you found yourself in.

"Nah, just wanted to see who's been leaving me all these presents," you try to keep your composure.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to figure it out," Sunghoon chuckles darkly. "I thought you were smarter than that. Did you seriously think that dork Heeseung would be capable of something so wicked?"

"That dork is a much better person than you are," you spit out. Okay, probably not the best idea to confront him right now. Stupid Y/N...

"Hmm, is that why you cheated on me with him?" Sunghoon sighs wistfully.

"I never cheated on you, I started dating Heeseung three months after our breakup."

"Three months. Couldn't even wait a year. You're so cruel," Sunghoon pouts and sits next to you on the couch, making himself at home.

"I'm not the cruel one, terrifying my ex-girlfriend. Move on, Sunghoon. I have."

"Have you? Then, why haven't you thrown away the little gifts I gave you?"

How did he know they're safely tucked away underneath your bed? How many times has he been here without your knowledge?

"As evidence," you reply dumbly.

"Evidence you don't plan to submit," Sunghoon teases you.

"I will submit it if you don't stop."

"Why are you even giving me a chance? Obviously, you haven't moved on. Obviously, you wanted to see me again, didn't you?" Sunghoon caresses your cheek and you want to push him away, you really do. But it feels so nice, the coldness sending chills down your spine. Maybe you're just as sick as him.

"Obviously, you are delusional," you roll your eyes. You just have to keep talking to distract him.

You remind yourself that your hand is stuffed in your pocket, clutching your phone tightly. You could easily call Heeseung or Sunoo without Sunghoon noticing. They could be here in minutes as they live nearby. The question is who to call? If you call Heeseung whom Sunghoon is so jealous of, you are afraid that Sunghoon might be carrying some kind of weapon and Heeseung might get hurt. You are fairly certain that Sunghoon wouldn't hurt you physically but you are worried about your boyfriend.

Sunoo, on the other hand...Though he doesn't look physically threatening, him showing up might be a better idea. His angelic demeanour may lead to a diplomatic dialogue. Besides, Sunghoon's always had a soft spot for Sunoo. He wouldn't hurt him, right? So, without thinking too much into it, you call him.

"Am I though?" Sunghoon tilts his head to the side in a way you used to adore. Fuck. "Admit it, if I wanted to really hurt you, I would have. And if you wanted me out of your life, you would have filed for a restraining order or something. Since neither of us did any of those things, that means there's still a chance you crave me in your life, isn't there?"

"You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m going back to you."

Sunghoon grits his teeth angrily, but doesn’t say anything. You really should stop saying things that will make him mad but then again, your biggest flaw has always been excessive honesty. When you broke up with Sunghoon, you were explicitly clear why his behaviour was making you upset and that his jealousy was in the core of it all. At the time, you really viewed Heeseung only in friendly light so Sunghoon’s anger towards him appeared unfounded. Now, however…you were, in fact, dating Heeseung. So, clearly, Sunghoon would believe he’d been worried for a reason.

"Oh, princess, what makes you think you have a choice?"

Moments later, your strained conversation is interrupted by Sunoo who just lets himself in as Sunghoon conveniently left the door wide open.

"Sunoo, thank God, you’re here!" you exclaim even though you are perfectly aware that Sunoo wouldn’t be able to defeat Sunghoon in a physical fight. You just hope that his precious smile is enough of a weapon to get Sunghoon to leave you alone.

"Hi, sunshine," Sunghoon greets him calmly as if his arrival comes as no surprise. Wait a second…

"Hey, hyung," Sunoo responds and instead of being comforted by his appearance, you feel sudden dread upon seeing his angelic features slowly transforming into psychotic ones.

"Since when were you two so friendly?" you try to rack your brain. Back when you were dating Sunghoon, you never noticed anything. Did Sunoo like him?

"Since we share a common goal," Sunoo smiles softly at you, making you even more creeped out, as he pulls a blade from his pocket. What the fuck?!

"Aww, Sun, don’t scare her just yet," Sunghoon scolds the younger man gently. "We’ll have plenty of time to play with her later."

Sunoo is working together with Sunghoon?!?!

You try to make a run for it but you’re too slow so Sunghoon and Sunoo capture you quickly. Sunghoon’s holding you strongly from behind, while Sunoo is caressing your neck with the blade, not drawing blood, just messing with your head.

"Are you gonna be a good girl or do we have to drug you?" Sunoo asks sweetly.

You struggle against them but it is of no use. They’re too powerful and you were too foolish.

"Bad girl, it is," Sunghoon answers coldly and presses a piece of clothing against your mouth and nose, making you feel dizzy and sleepy. Fuck.

You really should have called Heeseung.

To be continued…

[thewertsearch]

@elkian asked: PS - I think Sally can watch [S] Duodecim Rex Angelus at this point(?), but obvs I don't want to interrupt if she's on a roll lol @marinerofthestars asked: Since you’ve now finished Act 5, I think you can now watch (and react to when you have some time?) Rex Duodecim Angelus without risk of spoilers. It’s a 7-minute long fanmade Flash depicting the trolls’ battle against the Black King at the end of their session, hope you enjoy: https://youtu.be/-19Up0dLzNw @captorations asked: you've probably got a bunch of messages about this but. there's a fanfic out there that is the full text of strider-ified detective pony, and it is, unironically, one of the greatest fanworks ever created. i do not grant that title lightly, and i cannot recommend it enough. also! maybe i've forgotten and you did cover it, but. at this point i believe you're very much able to watch rex duodecim angelus, the fanmade flash of the trolls fighting their black king, without spoilers of any kind. some parts of act 6 can be a bit slow, so. if you need a break for action, it's there @joyfulldreams asked: By the way, since you've finished Act 5, you can absolutely watch Rex Duodecim Angelus now! (If you haven't already.) @transguyhawkeye asked: Not sure if anyones mentioned it yet but now that you've read the ancestor section you should be able to watch [s] Rex Duodecim Angelus spoiler-free! Anonymous asked: It looks like maybe no one's pointed out that you can now watch Rex Duodecim Angelus (which you were recommended in 2022 and 2023 but it was too early to watch then). You should definitely do that. Hussie declared it canonical, and Cat even suggested liveblogging it. Anonymous asked: OKAY YAY. There's a fan animation that I hear Hussie canonized called [S] Rex Duodecim Angelus and most people recommend that the earliest possible spot in a reading to view it is right after the completion of act 5. You don't have to liveblog it but I would LOVE it if you did. Anonymous asked: Augh I forgot to add that Rex Duodecim Angelus is of the troll session's fight against the black king. That would be worth mentioning. Especially so that you could dig up some of the references to the battle made in the comic ;>_> @morganwick asked: [...] this is a reminder that you used to go through the newsposts/blog posts/Formspring answers preserved in the Homestuck Collection, but you haven't done that in a while (cancelling it at the end of Act 4 in your haste to get to Act 5); were you thinking of catching up at the end of Act 5? I think you're close to the point where the Formspring stopped already. @likelyvampirical asked: [S] Rex Duodecim Angelus is now spoiler-free. On a related note, we've not had an episode of Tunes with Sally since November 2022. Maybe we could do some album reviews before coming back with Act 6?

Yup, it's finally time. After hearing about this legendary video for over a year and a half, today I'm going to check out one of Homestuck's most iconic fanworks, [S] Rex Duodecim Angelus!

I've heard from several people now that Hussie declared it canon, but no one's been able to track down a source for that just yet. Either way, it's clearly intended to be canon-compliant, so I'm interested in seeing how they handle the more ambiguous aspects of this fight, such as Gamzee's Rage attack.

On another note, I've deliberately placed Tunes with Sally on hiatus until later in the comic - mostly because the albums often contain songs from flashes we haven't seen yet, and I want to experience Homestuck's OST from within the comic first.

Finally, I promise I'll get to the Formspring eventually, as well as Hussie's news and blog posts. They're just not a giant priority, at the moment - but if anyone's got any specific Hussie quotes they'd like me to check out, feel free to send 'em in.

Anyways, I'll be watching Rex Duodecim Angelus after I've had dinner. Talk to y'all then!

[writingwithciara]

He Never Will ~Jack Hughes~

summary: jack loves his best friend and only wants to protect her from the worlds shittiest boyfriend

word count: 3.6k

pairing: jack hughes x reader, reader x shitty boyfriend

notes: based off the song by alexander stewart (my birthday twin 💕). i've recently become obsessed with this song & haven't put anything out for jack yet so i figured i'd write this for him [TW: toxic relationship with abuse]

masterlist

jack was in love with his best friend. it was cliche and he knew it but he didn’t care. the only thing he cared about was making sure she didn’t find out.

her boyfriend could tell though. he saw the way jack looked at y/n & he hated hearing him talk about her to other people as if he was the one dating her.

it was like a game to hunter though. well, more of a test really.

he had suspicions that y/n was into jack so every once in a while, he would pick a fight with her just to see if she ran crying to jack. and most of the time, she did.

when she didn’t run to her best friend, she would run to his brother or the captain of his hockey team. but to hunter, it didn't matter who she ran to. The point was that she ran to another guy and he didn't like it.

but she always went back to him, no matter how bad he treated her and jack hated that. he knew she deserved better and he wanted to be the one she chose. jack wanted her to stay on one of the many nights she ran to him.

but she never did.

if he don't know what he's got now, he never will

it was the night before jack was supposed to head up to toronto for the all-star game when y/n came back to his place.

the tears were pouring down her face as jack let her into his apartment without a word. he could never bring himself to say i told you so, especially not when she was in such a vulnerable state.

a few minutes of silence passed as they sat on the end of his bed before jack spoke up.

"so what happened tonight?"

"i don't even really know. i got home from work and he was in the middle of trashing my apartment. he said something about me not being faithful to him, which is total bullshit. and i know we have our fights and shit on a daily basis, and that's alright. but tonight felt different. like if i had stayed any longer, maybe he would've hit me or something."

jack looked at her face for any sign of a mark, fearing that she may have been hiding something from him. but there was nothing so he let it slide.

"i'm gonna take you home and i want you to pack a bag as quickly as you possibly can."

"why?" she wiped her eyes and looked at jack.

"you're coming with me to toronto."

"are you nuts? that's only going to make this worse, jack."

"i'm going to be gone for a week and there's no way in hell that i'm leaving you alone with him for that long with no guarantee of safety."

"i'll still have nico. and luke even."

"please just do this for me? i'm worried about leaving you with hunter. i swear the kid's just begging to get his ass beat."

"jack, if i promise to go with you to toronto, will you promise to try to get along with hunter when we get back?"

"y/n, i've already tried. he's a lost cause honestly."

"can we not have this conversation again? i'm tired of hearing it." y/n sighed with frustration and stood up. she began to pace around jack's room.

"until you see how much better you are than hunter, i'm gonna keep bringing it up. and the fact that you've heard it more than once should be enough to tell you something!" jack raised his voice but regretted it immediately when y/n started to cry. "please just listen to me okay? look, i care about you and i only want what's best for you. i'm not trying to make you feel bad or anything. i'm sorry if i upset you." jack pulled her into a hug and rubbed her back as she sobbed.

y/n cried for a good 10 minutes before she finally spoke again.

"i'm not upset with you, jack. i could never be. i'm upset with myself because i know i shouldn't be with someone like hunter but i love him so much and i can't just walk away from that." she looked up at jack and smiled when he wiped her tears away. "please don't hate me for staying with him."

"i could never ever hate you. i hope you know that." he rubbed her back soothingly. "and although i don't support you staying with him, i'm always here if you need me and i'm never ever leaving your side, okay?"

"okay." y/n nodded with a shy smile.

"so, will you please come to toronto with me?"

jack and y/n ended up meeting up with luke and nico before the boys took y/n back o her apartment to get her stuff. luckily for them, hunter was nowhere to be found.

y/n packed a bag quickly and left a little note for hunter. jack didn't agree with that idea, fearing hunter would come find her and do something terrible. but luke and nico assured him that y/n would be safe with them while at the game.

the 4 of them got in the car and were on the plane in no time. y/n took the window seat and jack sat next to her.

"what's going on in your mind?"

"part of me just...i don't know...i feel a little bad for hunter. maybe he's only like this because he didn't get a whole lot of positive attention growing up."

"don't feel bad for that piece of shit, y/n. he doesn't deserve you. and his lack of positive attention is no excuse for the way he treats you. i really hope you understand that someday." jack sighed and changed the topic.

for the rest of the flight, nico did most of the talking while luke did everything he could to keep a smile on y/n's face, even if it was only a small one. he accepted it either way.

when they got to the hotel they were staying at, the lady at the front desk gave them 2 keys. jack handed one to y/n and the group went up to their rooms. y/n wasn't a fan of being alone but at least the boys were just next door if she needed them.

the first night in toronto was not great. y/n woke up from a nightmare screaming and she couldn't bring herself to stop crying. jack heard her scream and was in her room in seconds. his heart broke when he saw the state she was in so he stayed with her for the next two nights.

on draft day, y/n was sitting with nico and luke as they watched the event unfold. she excused herself to use the bathroom and while she was gone, her phone buzzed in her seat.

it was a series of texts from hunter. nico and luke took it upon themselves to respond.

the two boys shared a look before y/n returned. she noticed their weird behavior and raised an eyebrow.

"you weirdos doing alright?"

"yeah. never better." nico lied and turned his attention back to the draft.

"hunter texted you while you were in the bathroom and we answered him."

"luke!" nico shot his teammate a look before looking over at y/n beside him.

"what did you guys do that for?" y/n opened her phone and went through the messages. "i could've handled it, you guys."

"we're all tired of him treating you like you mean nothing to him. that's not how you deserve to be treated." luke sighed.

"we're sorry, y/n." nico sighed. "we just love you so much."

"i'm not sorry."

"luke!" nico shot him another glare and rolled his eyes.

"i'm sorry, okay? but it had to be said. y/n deserves better than what she has and if you guys want to tell me different, then go right ahead. but we all know the truth." luke sighed. y/n placed her hand on his shoulder and hugged him.

"i know you guys are looking out for me, and i love you for it. so much." y/n looked over at nico. "can you guys let jack know that i'm gonna head back to new jersey before hunter gets here? i need to go pack my stuff."

"are you leaving him?"

"yeah." she stood up and sighed. "i don't know where i'm gonna go though."

"crash at jack's. you know he won't mind."

"yeah because he's in love with her." luke chuckled, earning another glare and a wide-eyed expression from y/n.

"that's supposed to be a secret, luke."

"oh, my bad. i thought she knew."

"that's a conversation for another day. i got something to focus on right now. but i won't forget you told me." y/n kissed luke's head and gave nico a hug before heading back to the hotel to pack. she left a note for jack because she knew the boys would forget to tell him.

when everything was done, y/n found herself back on the plane to new jersey.

the flight wasn't long but it gave her some time to think about what luke told her. she was shocke but everything was hitting her all at once.

had jack always felt this way?

when the plane landed, y/n got in the first cab she could find and headed to her apartment. as the car approached the building, y/n was suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread. she didn't want to end up running into hunter on the off chance he hadn't actually gone to toronto.

she slowly unlocked the front door and made her way inside. when there was no sign of hunter, y/n let out a sigh of relief before making her way to the bedroom.

she grabbed her suitcase and started throwing all her clothes into it. unfortunately, she only made it through half her clothes before she heard the door open and close. she tried to hide the fact that she was leaving but hunter entered the room before she could do anything.

"why would you feel the need to lie about where you were going?"

"you wouldn't have let me go support my best friends, hunter. i had no other choice. lying was my only option. plus i needed a damn break."

"what could you have possibly needed a break from?"

"from you. you're constantly keeping track of my whereabouts and you won't let me spend any time with my friends. the only time i get to see jack is whenever you start some pointless argument and drive me away for a night. it's getting to the point where i need to put my own mental health above everything."

"what the fuck are you trying to say?"

"i'm leaving, hunter. this is too much." y/n went to grab her bag but hunter gripped her wrist firmly.

"you're not going anywhere."

"let me go!"

"you're not going anywhere." he repeated, this time with emphasis on each word.

"i swear to god, if you don't let me go, i'll-"

"you'll what? call jack to come rescue you like always? well you can't. he's in toronto and i-"

at this point, y/n was tired of him and his comments about jack. she reached for the nearest object and swung it at his arm. hunter released his grip on her and before he could grab her again, she grabbed her suitcase and used it to keep some distance between them.

"i'll be back for my other stuff later."

"whatever, bitch."

y/n rolled her eyes and hurried out of the apartment. when she got in her car, she broke down and facetimed jack.

he picked up with a smile but it disappeared when he saw her tears.

"what happened? why did you go back to jersey?"

"i thought hunter was gonna be in toronto...and i figured i'd take that opportunity to come home and pack my stuff & leave the apartment. but he came home and...." y/n began to sob harder. "he hurt me, jack. hs grabbed my arm and it hurts so much. i don't know why i'm calling you when there's nothing you can do about it now."

"bullshit. i'm getting on the next flight home and i'm going to kick that douchebag's ass."

"jack, you're a captain of an all star team. you can't leave. quinn needs you there."

"but you need me there more." jack moved around the hotel room to pack his bag. "besides, quinn has elias and if he really needs another hughes, luke is here too. plus, i can't even compete in the all-star game so there's really no point in me being here."

"but this is important to you, jack."

"y/n, you are more important than any hockey game, all-star or not. you are my best friend and i'm going to be there for you when you need me to be." he looked at his laptop. "i'll be home in about 5 hours, okay?"

"okay." y/n sniffled and wiped her eyes. "is it alright if i-"

"of course you can stay with me. you don't even have to ask." jack smiled softly at the girl on his screen. "want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"please? i mean, if you don't mind." y/n propped her phone in the holder and began driving to jack's apartment.

"anything for you. you know that." jack kept y/n on the phone while he knocked on luke and nico's door. luke answered and smiled at his brother.

"hey. what's up?"

"i'm heading home. y/n needs me."

"just how in love with her are you?" luke smirked, not even realizing that y/n's face was on jack's screen and she could hear everything.

"dude, she's on the phone." jack's eyes darted down to his phone and back to luke's, whose eyes only widened when he realized.

"cat's out of the bag. oops." luke went to shut the door. "good luck, jack."

luke shut the door completely and jack looked back at his phone.

"for the record, luke is an idiot and i wouldn't listen to anything he says ever."

"never do." y/n smiled. jack returned the smile and couldn't help but stare at her as he headed down to the lobby to hail a cab.

"i won't be able to talk to you while i'm on the flight but i'll call you when i land, okay?"

"okay." y/n pulled into the parking lot of jack's building and got out. as she made her way into the apartment, part of her felt relieved. it felt like she was home.

"alright. the flight is boarding but i'll make sure to call you when i land. help yourself to anything in the apartment. there's some bath bombs and bubble bath at the back of my closet in case you want to take a nice, relaxing bath."

"thanks again, jack. for everything. i really appreciate you. have a safe flight."

"i will. love you."

"love you too." y/n smiled and hung up. she made her way into jack's room and pulled the bath stuff out from his closet. she ran the water for her bath and put on some calming music while also lighting a few candles. she put the cotton candy bath bomb in the water and when it was filled, she got in.

she hadn't even been paying attention to the time when jack got home. he stumbled in through the door with a busted lip and a shiny black eye.

"jesus christ. what the hell happened to you?"

"i'm sorry. i know you don't like it when i get violent off the ice, but i had to stop at hunter's before i came home. he hurt you so i hurt him. tit for tat i guess."

"how bad did you hurt him?"

"pretty bad. he's like 10 times worse than me right now."

"you didn't have to do that for me, jack." y/n looked at the cut on his lip. "now let's go clean up your lip and see if we can do something about that eye." y/n grabbed his hand and brought him to the bathroom. she sat him on the edge of the tub and grabbed a rag from the bin, running it under some warm water.

jack watched her every move intently, afraid that if he looked away, she would fade into a memory.

y/n wiped the dried blood from his face and started looking through her own bag for something to heal the black eye faster.

"you know, i don't hate it when you get violent off the ice, especially when it's to defend me. kinda think it's hot that you would put yourself in the way of violence if you're protecting me." she applied a cream to his left eye and placed a gentle kiss just below the bruise. when she pulled away from his face, she made eye contact with him. "i love you but can you please stop getting into fights?"

"thought you found it hot when i did." jack smirked.

"i do. but i also don't like seeing you get hurt." y/n ran her hands through his hair slowly while his hands held her waist. he tugged her closer and hugged her tightly.

"you're truly a blessing and i hate that hunter could never realize what he had."

"hopefully he realizes what he had now that he's lost it."

"you would never go back to him again, would you?" jack moved his had from his resting spot on her stomach and looked up at her.

"and leave you? no chance in hell will that ever happen." y/n knelt down to be at eye level with him.

there was something about the way he was looking at her that made her feel like they were alone in the world.

jack looked at her and he swore his heart began to beat faster. her gaze was focused on his lips and she tried to look away but she couldn't.

when jack's thumb reached up to draw delicate circles on her cheek, she knew she was screwed.

for years she was telling herself that she didn't have feelings for jack but here they were now, in the bathroom, sharing an intimate moment.

the feelings hit her hard and before she knew it, she was pulling jack in for a gentle kiss. when she tried to pull away, jack held her cheeks and poured everything into the kiss.

by the time the kiss ended, they were both out of breath and their faces were red. jack had a playful smirk on his face as he admired y/n's features.

"you are so incredibly beautiful, y/n. can't believe hunter would treat you so badly."

"how about we stop talking about that asshole & instead focus on this?" she gestured between them and smirked. "i love you and i'm sorry it took me so long to realize it."

"i'm sorry i never told you how i felt." jack continued to hold onto her face while y/n held his arms. "in case it's not obvious now, i do actually love you. but how could i not? i mean you are the most incredible human being & definitely the most precious person i've ever known. you are perfect in every way and i will spend the rest of my life showing you how you deserve to be loved. i-if that's alright with you."

"you are all i want and all i need jack. forever and always, since forever." she wrapped her pinky around his and smiled. a simple gesture that's been part of their lives since they were 9 but they loved it because it meant more to them than anyone could ever know.

taglist: @worldlxvlys @fearfam69691

[da-rulah]

Ghost: Skeletá - Review

Okay so maybe I got the vinyls delivered early, and maybe I have some thoughts to share. Many thoughts, even. Very scattered thoughts. But I have to get it out. If you haven't got it yet or haven't listened to it, please note there are of course spoilers so read at your own risk.

Please remember, this is a fan review, and it's my personal opinions. I'll include opinions about the lyrics themes (my fav thing to analyse) more so than musicality because I'm not a musician, so I can't go super in detail about that kind of stuff. I can only go off what I know and what influences I hear. I've probably missed out about 40% of the thoughts I've had on the album, there will be more I'm sure, but this is just on the first 2-3 listens. * SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT! *

Peacefield

The choral vocals at the beginning are just beautiful, and I get clear visions of the light shining through the tatters in the curtain at the ritual while they're singing. For those wondering, the curtain drops after the first "Oh child // stay close to me" when the beat drops. Live, it sounds huge, bigger, more synths, the lot. But it's a perfect opener, building anticipation and i love that he opens the album AND the tour with it. It's a song that's so incredibly hopeful, and that message I think resonates right through the album, which is something we all need in this day and age. I've talked before about how it's very much giving me Separate Ways by Journey - inspired by, not copied. It sets the mood, and sets the theme as the 80's vibe comes through very much in this album as we go through. And of course, what a STUNNING guitar solo. Lachryma

More synths, continuing that 80's vibe. This one feels more inspired by Metallica through the verses, the guitars being a little more grungy, with Tobias' own style of vocals. Another sick guitar solo. Man loves a solo, doesn't he? We all know this one by now, so there's not much I can say that we haven't all already heard. Satanized

Again, we all know and love this song. We're back to the good old days of dark, satanic themes. Of course, it's about falling in love as Tobias has told us, as love slowly progresses and engulfs us. It's catchy as fuck and live? The 'BLASPHEMY, 'HERESY', call outs work incredibly well. But none of us ever doubted her, did we?

Guiding Lights

STUNNING. So beautiful. So absolutely mesmerising. It completely changes the pace of the record, slowing us down. It, to me, sounds like he's saying that the guiding lights we're being shown are almost a lie, they're deceptive, leading you down 'the road that leads to nowhere'. But it's almost like you can't help but follow it in the hope you'll get somewhere. One part he's saying "If I could have turned around and told you the truth, I would have," like he too is following it, it's a compulsion he can't help. De Profundis Borealis

Okay well the pace changes again, with a beautiful intro that follows on from Guiding Lights into this. Guiding Lights was a nice little moment to take a breath - this takes the breath away from you. It roughly translates to "out of the Northern depths", and we're definitely back to the darker themes here. It sounds like the story in Guiding Lights is continued, and at the end of that long road, this is where you emerge. I love what he does with his voice in the verses, a little darker, almost verging on the Nocturnal Me kind of vocals. Not quite, but almost... But it's definitely about emerging from the dark - this is where the message of 'hope' kind of comes back into play, for me. It's like the listener is entrapping themselves in their own misery; "See the palace built of frozen tears // is your own built prison" - it's very much telling you not to entrap yourself. And then the choral outro... I have no idea what they're saying, but what a way to finish the track. Just gorgeous. Cenotaph

The beat is giving 'galloping through the fields'. It feels incredibly triumphant. We all know by now that a Cenotaph is a memorial for somebody passed, either buried elsewhere or not buried at all. And that very much comes through in the lyrics, but more so focusing on how the person he's lost is forever with him, not buried in a grave somewhere. The "Wherever I go // you're always there // riding next to me" lyrics feel very much about someone he's lost always being with him, almost like they're fuelling him while he's galloping on through life. I'm sure we can all guess who that could be about. We know who his driving force was and likely still is. It's a beautiful homage to where it all started. Missilia Amori

Get out your stripper poles, this is delicious. He grunts, followed by a gasping breath which I audibly gasped at because jesus fucking Christ, Papa... The 'love rockets', 'excite me with your demise' - this is stunning. "Wherever you may hide away // i'm gonna hunt you down". Please, yes, do. It's very much about the love of his life, and love feeling like an act of warfare. It's like "oh you don't want me anymore? Tough shit, I'm coming for you." Papa V is hunting you DOWN. It's got an Alice Cooper energy to it, for sure. Very old school. Marks of the Evil One

We're back to the four horseman of the apocalypse imagery. It sounds to me like he's saying "LOOK THEY'RE COMING! LOOK! THERE THERE!" like he's watching them approach ready to bring the end of times with them, they're putting the marks of the devil on everyone because it's judgement day, motherfuckers. And he's excited by it. Almost giving me 'rock opera' vibes, there's a definite narrative to this one. Another BANGING guitar solo. Shredding for days on this album. This may be one of my favourites. It's back to the satanic themes, the dark worship. We're so fucking BACK baby. Umbra

Having heard this live I was expecting good - nay, great - things. Did not disappoint. The 80's synths are a beautiful intro. The cowbell is a wonderful addition, I knew I loved it already from the rituals but I'm glad it's very audible in the mix. Tobias warned us this was a horny track and yes, it absolutely is. "Death becomes your lover" - he really does, with this song. Lyrics are pointing at making love at an alter 'lit with black candles', 'in the chapel of the holy one', 'i put my love in you'. (He framed his dick with his hands and gyrated during this lyrics on stage, just do y'all have that mental image...) The guitar solo, the keyboards, it's just so incredibly well done. Excelsis

Well this just hurt. It's a tear jerker, a song about death, frankly. About the inevitability of it ending. It's almost like he's singing it to someone who's dying, but telling you it's okay. You can make your peace with it. To finish the album with "I am afraid of eternity too" was stunningly beautiful, haunting and devastating. His vocals are beautiful, and the guitar solo gave me goosebumps. Yes, another solo. A lot of them on this album, but each stunning.

Overall vibes

Listen, we are so fucking back, baby. I feel like there are far more nods towards Satan, religion and darker themes, plus so many of Tobias' favourite influences. It feels like the record has been plucked straight outta the 80's, which obviously birthed some classic albums. It's monumental.

It feels as though this is the amalgamation of everything Ghost. This is what he's been building to, that he's found so much confidence in what he does now and whilst he's always believed in Ghost, this feels like a whole new level of "Yes, I believe in this".

In terms of the new character, having seen him live this certainly feels like his album. We've taken a step away from Copia, and this feels very Perpetua. I do think it's a whole new vibe, but not an unexpected vibe, given Ghost's back catalog of music and Tobias being so vocal about his influences. That's why I think this will land so well. It may be different, but it's not a whole other ball park, kind of different. It's exciting, it's new, but it's still Ghost.

I can see a lot of high accolades coming from this, a lot of praise, a lot of growth. Papa Perpetua is fucking HERE, baby!

[aliciavance4228]

I've been thinking about this for a while... the Trojan War took place about at least one century after Perseus killed Medusa. He was dead, which means that his image probably already started to become distant and vague, and he began to be viewed as a legend rather than a person. He founded Mycenae on top of that and became the ancestor of many other heroes or important figures, thus building an entire legacy.

I cannot help but wonder wheter or not the people from that mythological timeline idealized him and viewed him as a symbol of greatness and masculinity, as the ultimate image of a hero that must be achieved above anything else. After all, Alexander the Great idealized the shit out of Achilles and wanted to become like him as well, without understanding him to begin with.

Speaking of Achilles though, one major aspect that should be pointed out is the misinterpretation of said heroic image. I bet people would've talked about Perseus as the demigod son of Zeus who gloriously fought Medusa and then eventually became king, but don't go too much into details and point out that he did everything in order to save his mother from an unwanted marriage above it all. Most of the original heroes had noble purposes, and sought justice above wealth, glory or fame at the time when they achieved their greatest deeds. Achilles, on the other hand, found meaning in his role as a warrior and felt purposeless whenever this role was questioned. He became easily vulnerable when his pride was crushed and did a lot of reckless things out of ego rather than strenght. He wasn't able to seek anything meaningful beyond fame and glory, which should technically make people realize that the real tragedy of this man was the emptiness of his character.

So I'm wondering wheter or not Achilles heard stories and legends about Perseus back when he was little, but instead of understanding him he only took the heroic image of Perseus, whom he then romanticized to the point of not only loving, but also identifying with it, thus misinterpreting the real meaning behind it instead of asking himself how did Perseus remained one of the few heroes who had a happy ending in the first place.

It becomes even more interesting once you go deeper into their different philosophies and perceptions on their actions. For instance, this is a line from Euripides' Andromeda:

In other words, Perseus had a "Karma" type of mentality: Both good and bad luck are consequences of your previous actions. And this type of mentality specifically, as simply as it may seem, actually means a lot considering the fact that all the people Perseus harmed deserved it in one way or another. And most of the heroes who haven't considered the consequences of their own actions, including Achilles, are those who ended up having a tragic ending.

And yet the way they two are perceived by the modern people speaks to itself. Perseus is generally presented as this flawless, unidimensional Mary Sue-kind of hero who is here to save the entire world, which is perhaps part of the reason why a lot of people with a surfface-level of knowledge in Greek Mythology developed an unnecessary hatred towards him, due to his non-relatability. Achilles, on the other hand, ended up being admired less for his warrior persona and more for his complexity (and bisexuality) that are highlighted in pieces of Media such as The Song of Achilles. However, this approach that is supposed to be more nuanced leads to Achilles having his flaws getting glamorized, and ultimately encourages a romanticized perception on his destructive behaviors. He ends up becoming a toxic idol, whereas Perseus becomes an unachievable pattern of heroism. What both of them have in common though is misinterpretation: possibly of Perseus' character by Achilles, but surely of both of their characters by the modern audience.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

The First, and the Last

Day #6 - Prompt: Heard It In a Love Song | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | POV: Eddie | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Older Steddie, Everlasting Love, Getting Married

He's the last. 

The first, and the last, somehow.

Eddie's been with Steve forever, longer than any of the other couples in their orbit, and yet. They couldn't get married until now. At least not legally, and they just didn't ever bother to do it, symbolically. 

So, now they can.

At fifty.

He had to wait thirty years to marry Steve. 

Gareth got married after two years. Jeff, four. Goodie, ten, and Goodie's a notorious foot-dragger. Never in a hurry to make any decisions, big or small. 

So, thirty sounds insane, in comparison. 

Especially since Eddie's the opposite. He's impulsive. He makes decisions fast, and he made his decision about Steve decades ago, but today's the first time he can actually act on it.

And now he's nervous. 

He shouldn't be. Steve said yes. There was never any question he wouldn't, but Eddie's hands are shaking as he tries to tie his tie. He's never been very good at it, and today's no different. 

"Here, let me," Gareth says, and he ties it with ease.

"Thanks," Eddie says, and just keeps looking at himself in the mirror. When did he get so old? Yeah, the road is hard, and they've been at it for decades, but he feels like he only just realized that so much time has passed.

Which is insane. Gareth has almost raised his kids. That's how long he's been married. Jeff's kids are in middle school. Goodie doesn't have any, but doesn't want any. Eddie never really thought about it. Now he's fifty. He's probably not having kids at fifty. 

But he is getting married.

"Steve looks great," Gareth says, "Robin's getting him all shined up."

"Oh, I hope not," Eddie laughs, because Steve can definitely do a better job getting himself ready than Robin.

Then he looks back at Gareth, "I can't believe I'm the last."

"The last what?" Gareth asks, checking his own hair in the mirror.

"To settle down," Eddie says, and he jumps when Gareth barks out a laugh, "What?"

"You think you're the last to settle down? Since when? You've been settled with Steve forever."

"Yeah, but, like, not officially."

Gareth rolls his eyes, "Definitely officially in all the ways that matter. Today is a formality, you understand that, right? You aren't committing to anything today that you haven't been committed to for thirty years."

That's true. That's definitely true. He hadn't thought of it like that.

"It's a piece of paper, Eddie. A tax break. It's nothing else, I promise. You're just as married as I am, because of how you feel about Steve. Trust me."

"What if getting married fucks it all up?" Eddie asks, because he's been worried about that. 

"It won't," Gareth reassures. "Trust me. You're solid."

Eddie nods. They are. 

"Do you want me to send in Steve?" Gareth asks, meeting Eddie's eyes in the mirror.

"I'm not supposed to see him, before," Eddie says, because that's been hammered into his head. Relentlessly.

"I truly don't think it matters. Will you feel better if you do? That's what matters," Gareth says, and Eddie pauses for a second, then nods.

And Gareth leaves to go fetch him, and Eddie thinks he already feels a little bit better.

Steve comes in and smiles at him as he strides over, "You having cold feet?"

Eddie shakes his head, he's definitely not, "You?"

Steve cups his cheek, leaning over to kiss him, then he cups his cheek, "Never. You look so serious."

"I've loved you for thirty years," Eddie says, as serious as he feels.

Steve smiles, soft and sweet, "Me too, Eddie."

"I would have married you back then, year one, day one. If you'd have had me," Eddie says, leaning into Steve's palm. Finding the familiar comfort there.

"Eddie," Steve says, so soft and tender, "what's this about?"

"I feel like, maybe, I should have married you years ago. Even if it was just for us. Even if it wasn't legal."

"Okay," Steve says, encouraging him to keep talking. 

"I'm sorry I didn't, that's all. I'm sorry we're last," he chokes out.

Steve just smiles, and leans in to kiss him once, twice, more, "It's not a race. We're good, Eddie. We've been good for a very long time."

"Did you want kids? Did I sleep on that, too?" Eddie asks, and Steve's shaking his head.

"I would have said so if I did, honey. Honest. Yeah, I assumed that's what my life would be like, before you. But that's just because even in my wildest dreams, I couldn't have predicted the life we'd end up having together."

And it's Eddie's turn to smile, and he keeps on smiling as Gareth pokes his head back in, "We're still doing this right? Everyone's waiting."

Eddie doesn't much care about everyone else, only Steve.

"You gonna marry me?" Eddie asks again, this time cheeky and flirting with Steve, his husband-to-be.

His husband already, in all the ways that matter.

"I suppose so, we're already here," Steve teases, and reaches up to straighten Eddie's tie, "This is good. You finally learned to tie a tie. I'm so proud."

Eddie grins, and ignores the face Gareth is making at him, threatening to out him as a dirty liar.

"Why, yes, yes I did. Just for you sweetheart," Eddie lies, and pokes Gareth in the gut on the way by, knowing Gareth won't say a word. They know where each other's bodies are buried; helped with the shoveling. 

This little white lie won't hold up forever. Eventually Steve will see him trying to tie a tie and the jig will be up.

But not today.

"Starting your marriage on a lie, for fucking shame," Gareth hisses as he passes Eddie and Eddie laughs. 

And when it's time for Eddie's vows, he ad-libs in a confession about the tie, and Steve laughs, head thrown back, tickled.

Steve then promises in his, that in this marriage, he'll teach Eddie to tie his tie for real.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

[sissylittlefeather]

Kinktober Day 18: Dirty Talk

Burnin' Love

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, dirty talk, mentions of sex

Word Count: ~1.2k

Kinktober Masterlist

You walk into the studio sound booth at exactly 12:26am. Elvis has been there working on this song since about 4 in the afternoon and he's still not pleased with it. You haven't been a producer for long, and they usually only call you in when they're desperate to go home. That's how you end up here, in the studio, with Elvis Presley at nearly 1am. His band is exhausted. Their parts are perfect. It's his vocals that he isn't happy with yet. The song is complicated and he won't rest until it's just right. 

“Alright, goddamnit, let's go again.” He says into the mic, ready to run it through again. His voice has an edge to it like he's irritated to still be working on the same song. You were nervous enough to be called in, much less to be called in to work with him, but you also know that his musicians are exhausted and you might be reaching a point of diminishing returns. You take a deep breath and try to ignore how good he looks, dark hair a little messy, lips shining with where he keeps running his tongue over them. Clearing your throat, you speak softly into the mic. 

“Uh, Mr. Presley, maybe we should let the musicians go and you just try your tracks a few more times.” He looks up at the booth suddenly. Who the hell was that?!

“Honey, who are you?”

“I'm the producer, sir. They called me in to cover the night-”

“My name is Elvis. You don't need to call me sir.” He smiles up at the booth with his eyes sparkling behind his sunglasses. Your voice catches his attention and then when he sees you in the booth with your headphones on, he's ready to keep recording all night long. His irritation disappears with the curvature of your lips and the way your skirt hugs your thighs. 

“Oh, okay, Elvis. Maybe we should let them go?” He smirks a little and then shrugs. 

“Fine with me, honey. Y'all heard her. Clear out.” The musicians sigh gratefully and begin to pack up. “What's your name, doll?”

“Y/n. I think we only need a couple more takes.” You try to ignore his burning gaze and fiddle with something in the booth. 

“Oh, I don't know, honey. These lyrics are really throwing me for a loop. Might need your help.” You lift your head quickly and meet his eyes. Even behind his glasses, they're piercing and you can see as he looks up and down your body. He breathes out a laugh as he notices a blush rising in your cheeks. 

“Of course, sir- I mean Elvis. Whatever you need.” You stumble over the consonants and try to keep it together, but you can already feel yourself getting wet. He knows the effect he's having and thoroughly enjoys watching you drop into a chair as your knees go weak. 

“Whatever I need?” He gives you a devilish smile, adjusting the headphones on his ears and you whimper, glad he can only hear you when you have the mic turned on in the recording booth. 

Once everyone has gone and it's just you and him, you get the track ready to play for him to sing with, actively ignoring your arousal as it dampens your panties. 

“Okay, Mr. Presley-”

“Elvis.” He smiles and you almost faint. 

“Elvis, I'm going to play the track and you just do your vocal part.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Your hand shakes, but you press play and let the track run. He starts to sing and then stops, his fingertips on the headphones and a slight frown on his face while you pause the track. 

“What's the next line, doll?”

“Girl, girl, girl, girl, you gonna set me on fire.” He smirks. 

“Set what on fire?” You blink a couple times before you can answer. He licks his lips again, imagining how warm your body would be against him. Finally, you get it out. 

“Set me on fire.” 

“Am I setting you on fire, honey?” 

“I-um-I-what?” You stutter and stammer into the mic and he chuckles. 

“Can you sing the line for me?” He gives you a cheeky little grin and you start to suspect he's being difficult on purpose. But you're not about to let on that you've figured this out, so you sing the line. 

“Girl, girl, girl, girl you gonna set me on fire.” He was right, your sweet little voice is almost as pretty as you are. 

“Mmm honey, I've half a mind to get you in here singing backup for me.” Your cheeks turn pink again. 

“Oh, um, thank you. Shall we continue?” He nods. 

“Of course.” You push play and he keeps singing until he gets a few more lines done. “What's the line?”

“Burning, burning, burning and nothing can cool me.” He wraps his hand around the mic and pulls it in close to him.  

“Oh, honey, I think you could cool me just right, what do you think?” His voice in the microphone is smooth and sexy in your headphones and you feel your center drip even more. 

“Huh?”

“Nothin' baby.” He goes back to singing and you make it through the next set of lyrics before he stops you again. 

“Next line?”

“It's coming closer, the flames are now licking my body.” He chuckles again. 

“Licking what?”

“Licking my body.” You answer, trying to stay as professional as possible. A lopsided grin spreads across his face and he decides to kick it up a notch. 

“You want me to lick your body, honey?” You sit in stunned silence and stare at him. You're so turned on you can barely breathe. “I can think of a few places on your body I'd like to lick.” 

“Like where?” It comes tumbling out of you breathlessly before you can stop it. He wets his lips with his tongue. 

“I bet you've got a pretty little spot between your thighs that I'd love to get my tongue into.” You moan softly into the microphone and he adjusts himself to make his erection less uncomfortable. 

“Mr. Presley…” You whisper airily. 

“Elvis. I'd love to get these sideburns on your thighs, baby.” You whimper again and he doubles down. “Put my tongue in that pretty pussy.” 

You're so hot and bothered at this point that you can't even remember what you're supposed to be doing. He pulls the mic to his lips and keeps going. 

“You wanna cum in my mouth, baby?”

“Yes…” You hear yourself whisper as you grind against the chair for friction. 

“Let me put this big cock inside you? You want that, honey?” He starts to stroke himself over his pants and you bite your lip and whine. 

“Yeah…” You rub your thighs together and watch as he grins and continues to palm his dick over his pants. 

“Well, are you comin’ to me or am I comin’ in there?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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