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rottenblur · 6 months

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Post workout pump|A.ANDERSON

Abby x fem reader 2.3k

Summary: Your gym rat Tinder date isn’t one to not kiss on the first date, a coffee date is much more interesting with her.

WARNINGS: public shit, public fingering??? Dirty talk, Abby being bold as hell, head!! Fingering, quick mention of that liquor. Fucking on the first date.

Abby’s Tinder profile was simple, a couple of gym rat pictures, and a couple cute candid ones someone had taken of her with a background of beautiful scenery. The one that made you swipe on her was a picture of her smiling in the forest, normally you wouldn’t go for “outdoorsy” people, you wanted someone you could comfortably rot away with.

It was her fucking smile. The way that her hair practically glowed in the sunlight peaking through the trees, how her freckles complimented every feature on her face. It wasn’t just her looks though, you weren’t that shallow. Her bio was simple, simple in a way it didn’t seem like she was faking it for people to like her.

“Will fight for you.” And you believed it with every inch of your body, she looked like fought off bears for a living. She could break you in half, part of you wanted her to.

Your conversation on the app was short, you gave her your number pretty fast, I mean she asked for it.

You got a text from a random number quickly after you gave it to her.

(7xx) 8xx-6xxx: Hey beautiful.

You replied quickly.

You: Hey.. this abby?

The typing bubbles popped up immediately, she responded fast and used punctuation, which was rare. In your experience, and probably rare to everyone on dating apps. To be honest, this was your first time on a dating app, you had too much on your plate to even think about dating since high school.

Abby: [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Abby: Sure is.

The picture was a live photo in a gym mirror, she had dumbbells resting by her feet, her body covered in a tank top and loose basketball shorts. Her muscles were huge, you didn’t think someone could be that strong, the sweat making them shiny didn’t help how hard you were staring right now.

You: oh my god…

That’s all you can get out, you have no thoughts.

You: i’m blushing

You throw your phone, you’ve only been talking to her for maybe an hour and yet she already has you wrapped around her finger.

The text bubbles pop up, she’s typing.

Abby: Aw, such a sweet girl, already blushing for me.

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. You couldn’t stand another minute not being with her.

You: are you busy today? I need to see you

Text bubbles pop up, then disappear, come back then disappear again. Read, for ten minutes. Were you moving too fast? You put your phone down, tidying up your room to distract yourself from the stress. You get into the shower, your phone on the sink counter for music. You wash your hair when your phone starts ringing, fuck.

You grab the towel hanging up, drying off your hands and step out of the shower to pick up your phone, it’s her. You press the green accept button and put the phone up to your ear, pushing your wet hair out of the way.

“Hey.” She says. Her voice, oh my fuck, her voice. It was gentle but so heavy with intent, she sounded like she only spoke if she meant it.

“Hi.” You respond back, wrapping the towel around your body and stepping out of the bathroom to make sure she heard you well.

“God, you sound adorable. I’m not busy, just at the gym right now but I’m free in thirty minutes if you wanna go for coffee.” She says, you can hear the dumb bells banging in the back now.

Your mouth falls open, she really wants to see you? A date? Today? You forget to speak.

“Yeah, yeah please. Where to?” You respond back.

You hear her laugh slightly, then take a breath. “I’ll text you the address beautiful, you’ll like it I know you will.” God people making decisions for you was suddenly so hot.

You agree and giggle, uncontrollably. “Bye bye.”

“See ya.” She says then hangs up. Fuck you were nervous.

You get a text from her, the address was a small locally owned coffee shop just down the street from you, maybe she lived close. Surprisingly you had never been there before, maybe you could have met her sooner if you stepped out of your comfort zone more often, you would have met her sooner.

Twenty minutes had passed, you got back into the shower, finishing it and getting ready. Drying your hair and throwing on a cute fitting outfit, something easy, or just easy access, hey you weren’t against doing stuff on the first date, especially not with her.

You walk to the coffee shop, texting her when you arrive at the front doors, her assuring you she was already there. She was early, you liked that.

You walk inside and that's when you see her. She was in the back, in a booth manspreading under dimly lit lights. You walk over towards her, her hands set on the table, fiddling with a stir stick. She looks up and sees you, her blue eyes light up. She stands up, she towers over you. You look up at her, her freckles are even cuter in person.

“Hey beautiful, you look you know..beautiful.” She says looking you up and down. You smile at her muttering a greeting back. You were almost shaking, she was perfect, everything you could have ever wanted.

“You want a drink? I’ll order, just finished mine.” She says, placing a hand on your upper arm, it engulfed your arm in full. You nod and tell her your order. She smiles at you and walks off to order, you sit down scooting to the inside. A one-sided booth, leaving no choice but to sit right next to her, her boldness was attractive.

She comes back, placing your drink on the table in front of you, scooting herself right next to you placing hers next to yours. You pick up your drink taking a sip, as she lays her arm on the booth behind your back spreading her legs, getting comfortable. “Was that picture from today?” You refer to the picture she sent you earlier. She nods turning her head to look at you.

Her strawberry blond hair slightly damp presumably from a shower, her blue t-shirt clung to her arms, her jeans tight to her legs. God.

“You like what you see?” She says tilting her head at you, looking you up and down in return. You nod shyly looking away as you fiddle with the end of your skirt. She catches that, flicking your hands away, replacing them with hers. “You wear this for me? I like it, looks really good on you sweetheart.”

God the pet name, her hands on you, on your clothes. Her compliments, she has you melting. “I wore it for you Abby.” You say looking at her, she looks up from your legs to your eyes. She smiles, rubbing your cheeks, keeping one hand on your thigh. “God you’re adorable, I got you blushing already.” She takes her hand off your cheek and takes a sip of her drink.

“What made you want to talk to me?” She says as she rubs her thumb on your engulfed thigh. You’re fighting to not squeeze your thighs together. You look at her lips, and her eyes then respond. “You’re pretty, I mean you’re hot, you’re intimidating it’s attractive.” You say. She nods, humming a response to you.

“Well, I thought about how fucking cute you’d look with my head between your thighs.” She said it so innocently, her hand moving up under your skirt, you couldn’t handle it your trap her hand by squeezing your thighs together.

She clicks her tongue at you tapping your thigh with her free thumb for you to open your legs. You submit to her order, opening your legs for her. Her finger grazes your clothed clit, your panties wet from her teasing. You look at her and finally respond. “I’d like that, alot.” Your cheeks were burning up, your whole body was burning up with need.

She leans in closer to you, whispering into your ear. “You’re so perfect, so fucking ready for me, so beautiful.” A whine falls out of your mouth, uncontrollably. Her fingers continue dancing from your clit to your slit, teasing you no, torturing you.

You place one elbow on the table, the other gripping Abby’s thigh, you were dripping onto your skirt it was unbearable. You finally mutter out exactly what you need to say.

“I need you Abby, I need you.” You say. She pulls her hand away, awwing in response, turning your head towards hers with a grip on your chin. She smiles and shakes her head. “Ask nicely beautiful.” You lick your lips and nod. “I need you please, please Abby.

She lets go of your face, standing up and holding out a hand for you, you take it letting her pull you up out of the booth. Your legs were weak, even trembling, she noticed this and smirked at you.

She drove the two of you to her apartment, so fucking close to yours, her hand on your thigh the whole way there, her glances never made you blush any less each time. She parks her car and guides you up to her apartment with your hand clutched all the way there.

She unlocks her door, leading you in first, she walks in behind you, and kicks off her shoes. She grabs you, pushing you against the door connecting your lips with hers, locking the door with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist.

She pulls away, looking at you with those lustful blue eyes, they looked much brighter when you first met her but now there's nothing darker. She locks lips with you picking you up and carrying you towards her bedroom, her hands full of ass.

She’s mirroring your whimpers into the kiss with grunts, your arms wrapped around her neck. As she enters the bedroom with your legs wrapped around her, you fiddle with her braid, undoing it and running your fingers through the loose strands.

She throws you down onto the bed, the plush duvet sinking behind your back. Your quick breaths are loud in the quiet room, Abby stares are you eating you up with her eyes. “What do you want beautiful?” she says to you, stripping her jeans off revealing her grey boxer briefs, a wet spot that catches your eye. Apparently, you're not the only one worked up.

When you don't respond she hums a “hmm?” to you pulling you from your thoughts. “I want you, I want to feel you everywhere Abby.” A quiet grunt comes from the back of her throat. She leans to you, putting her knees on the bed and caging you in with her arms. She kisses you, her tongue tangled with yours. She pulls away to strip her shirt from her body, tossing it aside.

You admire her body, stripped from her tight t-shirt her muscles look even bigger. She places your hands on her shoulders pulling your shirt off. She leans down to unhook your bra and kisses you.

She scans your body, her eyes make you want her even more. She kisses your lips, pushing her knee in between your thighs applying the perfect amount of friction as she moves to make out with you.

She kisses down your bare chest sucking purple spots all the way down your stomach, your neck to your hips littered in hickeys. “So fucking good for me.” She mutters out as she flips the hem of your skirt up onto your stomach. She kisses the inside of your thighs, whines and whimpers falling out of your mouth with need.

She leaves marks leading up to your panties, now even wetter with want. She pushes them to the side, taking a quick lick and sucking on your clit then looking up at you. Her eyes, her face from the angle could make you cum right there and then.

“You taste so fucking good beautiful.” You were melting. She attaches her mouth back to your clit spiralling circles with her tongue, holding your hips down with one hand.

She rubs your hip as you fight to ride her face, take control. She sucks your clit and pushes two fingers inside, filling you so well. Her fingers found places inside you, you never knew existed.

Her tongue quickens it's pace as so does her fingers pumping in and out of you. Moans fall from the back of your throat, you can hear Abby’s grunts vibrating against your clit.

She disconnects her mouth, pumping and curling her fingers to the perfect spot at a brutal pace, she looks up at you, arched back gripping the blanket. “Such a good fucking girl.” Her praises push you over the edge. She connects her lips back pulling you quickly to your climax. You look down to her, as your thoughts dissapear.

You pulse all over her fingers, and she pulls them out, kissing your thigh. She looks back at you, as she sucks you off her fingers. “So good sweetheart, so goddamn good.” She crawls her back up to your lips kissing you gently.

She whispers into your ear. “You make such pretty noises for a slut.” That shocked you, after all those praises, she degraded you. It had you ready for round two all in eight words.

She lays next to you, looking you up and down. “Want a drink?” She asks.

You nod, she gets up tossing you her t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer, a pair of black boxers. They were loose resting on your hips as the shirt went to mid thighs.

She walks out of the room, and you follow her sitting on the couch as she pulls a bottle of dark liquor from her bar cart. You lay down, she sits down placing your legs on top of hers passing you the drink. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at you, placing her hand on your thigh.

“Wanna stay the night?”

A/N: AHHHH I wrote this really fast if there are any spelling mistakes/ grammar mistakes LOOK AWAY. I love Abby thank you.

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sister-lucifer · 4 months

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A Bullet in the Chamber

Proxies (Hoodie, Masky, Toby) x Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Horror/Dark Angst

Summary: They want you to prove your love, to prove that you truly believe you’re meant to be together…with the help of Tim’s revolver, of course.

Content/Warnings: God, where do I start…obviously massive use of a gun, they play russian roulette, descriptions of gore, the proxies are super manipulative and emotionally abusive to reader, just a super obsessive not healthy relationship, this is NOT a feel good fic, it’s implied reader is being held captive

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“We just wanna…play a little game with you, that’s all,” Tim drawls, his voice deep and lazy as he looks at you from behind his mask.

You’re nervous suddenly. Unbearably nervous. A cold chill runs throughout your body and makes your stomach convulse in an agonizing manner, and you don’t know if you’re going to vomit or pass out first. You don’t know why. He’s only just started speaking. Maybe it’s the way he drew out the last part of that sentence, or the way he immediately tried to soothe you before you’ve even fully understood what’s going on, or just that look in his eyes that says ‘I want to fucking gut you.’

There’s a reason you learned to keep your guard up around these three.

Suddenly the little circle you’re all sitting in on the floor feels much, much tighter than is comfortable, and it doesn’t help that Toby slides in closer, bumping your shoulder with his and flashing you a knowing smirk. What exactly he knows, though, is a horrific enigma to you.

Brian is on your other side, and although he doesn’t move, for a split second he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze returns to Tim. He’s managing to hold a straight face, but you can see the corners of his mouth just barely twitching as he internally fights to keep the emotion bubbling beneath the surface at bay.

There’s silence for a few moments, you’re not sure how long, but you don’t realize they’re waiting for you to speak until Toby nudges you.

“I, uh…what, um— what kind of game…?” You stammer, immediately regretting your question despite the curiosity that’s gnawing at you like a starving animal. You shudder when Toby giggles, clearly trying to stifle the sound as he bumps your shoulder again.

Tim thinks over his answer for a moment, scratching at his stubble in a manner that is far too casual. You think he’s going to speak, you’re expecting it, but he doesn’t say anything at first beyond a tired sounding sigh. Your eyes are locked onto his hand as it reaches behind him, and when it emerges once more it’s holding onto the grip of Tim’s revolver.

“There’s one bullet in the chamber.”

The world is spinning suddenly as you watch him place the weapon on the ground, and the sound of it sliding across the floor to you makes you sick. You bite back a gag as it slows to a stop in front of you. Your mouth hangs open uselessly as you struggle for words, desperate to pull out some sort of protest to what you know he wants but no sound comes.

They watch you grapple with yourself for a few moments before Brian places a hand on your knee. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, and normally it would be, but now it feels like a threat.

“Hey, don’t freak out so soon,” He says, lips curled into a subtle smirk, “We did this all the time when we were younger, it’s practically a rite of passage.”

Unsurprisingly, this does little to quell your fears. You’re shaking now, unable to wrap your mind around how they could be acting so nonchalant about putting your lives on the line like this.

“Listen,” Tim huffs, “I’m gonna be straight with ya, kid. We know how you’ve been feeling recently.”

That hardly narrows it down. You’ve been feeling a lot of things recently, none of it good and all of it confusing. That’s just the sort of conflict born from this kind of captivity. You shrug, unsure what to say.

“We know you w-wanna leave,” Toby clarifies, “I saw you staring out t-the window the other day…you just s-sat there for hours.”

That…made you feel a bit guilty. You shouldn’t, but you do. You could’ve at least made it less obvious.

“We trust you, hon,” Brian adds with a nod, “But we also think we could all use a little…what did you call it?”

He turns to Tim, who yawns before answering.

“…Group bonding.”

You shudder at the phrase. Disgusting.

“I…I don’t think this is the best way to…t-to do that,” You murmur, but your words hold no weight when you can’t even look them in the eyes. You’d never take the risk of making any sort of real fuss anyways.

Tim shrugs, seeming to consider your words.

“How would you do it, then?”

You…don’t have an answer for that. Why don’t you have an answer for that?

“I-I don’t know, I mean…can’t we just have awkward group sex like other, uh…groups, or whatever?” You ask, hesitating to call your dynamic any sort of relationship.

You make sure to tack on a nervous laugh at the end to make it seem lighthearted, but no one is amused. Toby giggles, but he’s laughing at you, and it’s painfully obvious.

“Don’t stress about it,” Tim says, “Just think of it as a…a test, you know?”

He sighs when you shake your head no.

“Ya know, like…a way of proving yourself. I mean, you trust us, right?”

You hesitate to answer that, but nod quickly when Tim narrows his eyes at you.

“Good. Well, think of it this way: if we all survive this, it’s a sign that we’re…meant to be together.”

“There has to be a better way—“ You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and Brian instantly takes to calming you.

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. His other hand comes up to your face, holding your head against his shoulder.

“Calm down, baby,” He says softly, “Don’t jump ship so fast. I told you, we’ve all done this before. We’ll even go first to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of, alright?”

He’s not really giving you a choice.

You nod.

Maybe you’ll be able to just get this over with. If you sit here for much longer, you’re gonna be sick.

Toby reaches out to grab the gun first. That doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s never been one for forethought, or common sense in general. One day his hubris will get him killed, you think, but for once you’re hoping it won’t be today.

Not today.

Not here.

Not right in front of you.

Brian doesn’t let you go, continuing to hold you against him as Toby makes a show of spinning the chamber, letting it run until it stops on its own. He giggles with deranged amusement as he presses the end of the barrel to the bottom of his chin, looking back at Tim with a crooked grin.

There’s silent for a few moments, and you can’t look away from him until you follow his gaze to Tim, who is staring back with furrowed brows.

He’s still for a beat, and then he nods.

A signal.

Go.

You have a split second to process Toby preparing to pull the trigger before you bury your face in Brian’s hoodie and he, in turn, covers your face with his hand and squeezes you tight. It’s hardly comforting, but it’s better than nothing.

The soft click of the trigger seems to echo endlessly in the silence that follows.

Silence.

You quickly look back up and are immediately met with Toby’s hazel eyes looking back at you, their corners crinkled with the wide smile that’s spread across his pale face.

“Lookie there,” He drawls with a laugh, “This h-handsome face is still in tact.”

“Hardly the better outcome,” Tim mutters with a roll of his eyes.

This prompts Toby to slide the gun to him next, crossing his arms in feigned hurt.

“You go n-next then, wise guy. If you blow y-your brains out, at least we’ll know you h-had one.”

“Shut up,” Tim hisses back as he, too, brings his hand up to spin the chamber of the revolver. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You didn’t think they’d be so eager.

You’re gripping onto Brian’s hoodie so tightly your knuckles burn as you watch Tim press the barrel of the gun to his jaw, angling it upwards toward the dome of his skull.

He’s not nearly as giddy as Toby. He’s straight faced and silent, which isn’t odd, but something in his eyes is darker than you ever remember it being. You can only see his eyes with his mask on, yet you know his expression exactly. He’s staring right at you, and you’re imagining his brains dashed against the wall behind him, his face and any identifying features that once made him human reduced to a splatter of viscera that barely resembles the pieces of a person.

And when it’s all over, you think, you’ll surely be the one left to clean the mess of what used to be Tim. You’ll be left to scrub the red stains from the floorboards while the others continue on as if nothing has happened, and suddenly you can’t breathe.

The world stills as once more the trigger is pulled with a click.

Then relief hits you like a shockwave when that click is followed by silence.

Silence.

Your lungs fill faster than you were ready for, and you cough and sputter as your chest heaves with newfound breath. Brian rubs your shoulder gently, his other hand reaching out to grab the revolver as Tim slides it to him. The gun is exchanged without a word, only piercing eye contact as Brian lifts the weapon and spins the chamber, just as his companions had done before him.

It seems so natural for all of them. In the half a second it takes for Brian to lift the gun you wonder how many times they’ve done this, if you’re the first person to witness this ritual, and if not, what happened to those who came before you.

You don’t find any hope of getting answers, though, as you watch Brian press the barrel to the side of his head. He gives you a squeeze, and you can’t tell if he’s assuring you or saying goodbye just in case.

You still haven’t released his hoodie despite the throbbing pain in your fingers. You’re barely a thread away from tearing out a patch, but you can’t let go. You don’t look at him this time, unable to pull your head away from where it rests on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze like you’re trying to crush him, but he only lets out a breathy chuckle and ruffles your hair in response as if he’s amused by your terror. You’re a scared kid to him, a foolish little child running from an imaginary monster despite the very real threat.

You can hear his hoodie shifting as he adjusts the position of the gun. You can hear the slight scratching against his hair as the barrel moves against his head. You can hear him suck in a quick breath as he readies himself to pull the trigger.

You hear the click.

And then silence.

Silence.

You’ve never been so grateful for silence.

You nearly jump out of your skin when Toby claps and laughs loudly, practically howling with wildly misplaced celebration. He shakes you in his excitement, unable to get any intelligible words out through his giggling.

“Shhh,” Brian says with a finger to his lips, “We’re not done yet.”

He’s right. Goddamnit, he’s right. Not everyone has played yet. You were hoping that maybe just this once the higher being that trapped you in this hell would have this minuscule mercy on you, but you were met with a resounding no.

Brian places the gun on the floor in front of you. You can’t hear the sound of the metal gently knocking against the wood floor, but it makes you feel ice cold. Your world is rapidly going dark as you struggle to make yourself breathe.

You can feel the others’ eyes on you, three pairs of eyes staring right at you and boring a hole through your skull that’ll surely be identical to the one the bullet will leave. Maybe they’re imagining it, too.

It seems you’re not moving fast enough for them.

Toby reaches out and grabs your wrist a bit too roughly, forcefully placing your hand on the gun. You wince like you expect it to burn, but you’re left with only the cruel sensation of metal on your palm.

You weakly curl your fingers around the grip of the gun. It feels impossibly heavy as you lift it, trembling like a leaf in the wind. You force your other hand up, placing two fingers on the chamber of the revolver as you prepare to spin it.

You press the pads of your fingers against the metal, pushing down in an attempt to spin, but the gun slips from your shaking hands and clatters to the floor. You yelp in surprise and clamp your hands over your mouth, tears suddenly forming in your eyes but refusing to flow over.

Brian sighs. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just disappointed. He picks up the gun, and you think that maybe, just maybe he’s going to let you out, grant you some small reprieve and tell you you don’t have to do this.

Instead he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close, and his other hand presses the barrel of the gun right to your head.

“I’ll do it for you,” He says, as if it’s nothing serious. Like he’s just grabbing a box off a high shelf to be nice.

You feel like he’s strangling you. He might as well be. It would be a more humane death.

He’s going to kill you, you think, you’re going to die in this godforsaken house with these bastards, you’re going to die in isolation with no one to honor your body.

They’ve sentenced you to death.

You think back to that question of how many have come before you. Is this what they thought about, too? Is this the first, third or twentieth time someone like you has been here? How many unfortunate circumstances have stained the floorboards red over the years this cabin has stood?

It doesn’t matter.

None of that matters.

You’re going to be the next.

That’s all there is for you to be now.

A stain of red on the old wood floors will be your only legacy.

You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you look up at Brian. His expression doesn’t move an inch. There’s no trace of the humor he always seems to have, not even a hint of feigned compassion or sympathy for your position. He’s not letting you out of this. None of them are.

You reach down and grab Brian’s hand where it rests in your hip, your nails digging into his knuckles. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even move beyond adjusting his finger to pull the trigger.

Each second seems to go on for an eternity, yet at the same time everything is moving far too fast. You can’t process what’s happening but you just want it over with, that’s your only choice.

He’s lifting his finger, preparing to bring it down on the trigger.

He’s pressing the barrel of the gun into your skin just a bit harder as he readies himself for whatever happens next.

This is it.

This is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is…

The trigger clicks.

Then there’s silence.

…it.

Silence.

And then Toby erupts with animalistic, ecstatic laughter. It rings in your ears and echoes around your skull in an almost painful manner. You can’t stand the sound.

You’re alive.

The game is over.

All at once relief floods your body in such an overwhelming manner your vision goes dark. You can’t speak a word before you’ve gone limp in Brian’s arms, and he barely has time to put the revolver down and catch you. He holds you in his arms and makes a half hearted attempt to wake you, but when you don’t respond he looks up at Tim with a smirk.

“Out like a light.”

Tim can’t help but chuckle, and for a moment it’s even a full on laugh. This only encourages Toby, who’s flopped over onto his back as his body writhes with mirth.

Brian groans as he stands, pulling your body up with him. He throws you over his shoulder and nods to the others.

“I’m taking this one up stairs, gonna put ‘em to bed. I’m sure they’ll be whiny when they wake up, and you two better deal with it.”

Tim and Toby nod and wave him away. Toby’s finally stopped laughing enough to pull himself off the floor as Tim picks up the revolver. He shoves it into Toby’s chest, nearly pushing him over.

“Go put it up,” Tim orders.

“Or what?” Toby teases as he takes the gun, “You g-gonna get mad ‘cause I won’t clean up y-your toys?”

“Just do it,” Tim demands with a growl, clearly not amused. Toby rolls his eyes and huffs like a defiant child, but nods.

Tim starts to walk away, headed upstairs to his own room, but he pauses on the first step and turns to Toby.

“Oh, and don’t forget to load it,” He adds, “If it’s empty the next time I need it, I’m gonna kill you.”

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agentzedbooks · 2 months

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Reformatting

(Some people can't afford my Amazon stories, and some can't get them in their home country, so here's a fun little freebie. I hope you like it! *giggle*)

Lilah had been battling with this system for over an hour. Some executive had downloaded a virus on their laptop and it kept redirecting them to websites full of weird code.

She had removed the infected files and run multiple scans, but somehow the damned virus was hiding in the bios. She had to manually edit the code, remove the offending lines and double-check the hard drive for any more remnants.

But it had taken a lot of work. She brushed her dark hair back out of her face and adjusted her glasses. So far, it looked like the system was cleaned. The final scan had detected nothing. But this particular virus had been tough, and nobody else she knew had encountered anything quite like it.

It didn't act like your typical virus, other than the way it burrowed deep into the system. It mostly seemed to just redirect web browsing to these pages full of text. She'd disregarded most of what she'd seen, but she couldn't help being curious about it. The pages didn't really do anything to the system. The code seemed like gibberish. She knew her programming languages, and it was some weird patois of HTML, Java, C++, and a few items she couldn't quite identify. And she caught the browsers sending out packets of data to an unknown address, and when she looked up that address and tracked the IP, it seemed to be a junk address on an abandoned server somewhere. It wasn't sending hard drive data, she was sure of that, it's almost like it was just pinging and hoping for a response. Of course none came, and so she filed that away as another minor mystery. It must be some old out-of-date phishing software.

But it seemed she had finally cleansed the system. She let out a sigh of relief. She'd spent her entire morning on this, and though working from home had it's advantages, she also desperately needed a shower and something to eat. She pushed herself away and went to the bathroom. She stripped off the sweatpants and undergarments and let the hot water cleanse her of the stress. She had actually beaten the silly thing. Still, the many mysteries of the virus nagged at her.

Once she was dry, she went back into her bedroom to get dressed, and saw the computer she'd been working on seemed to have rebooted. She let out a long sigh.

"Still?!" She walked over and saw it had brought the browser up to another one of those strange pages. That weird mix of code was there again. She put on her glasses and tried to make sense of it.

Lilah blinked, and felt something... something compelling her. She frowned and looked up from the screen. She... She needed to do something. She had forgotten something, or maybe it was a fragment of a dream or a memory.

She went to her front door and saw a small package had come in the mail. It was square, about two inches wide, eight inches on each side.

She opened the plastic, and then the cardboard that was inside. Sitting there in bubble wrap was a headset, bubblegum pink, with little bunny ears coming up from the top. She blinked. It was not the kind of thing she'd order. She'd seen a lot of eGirls have headgear like this, but she'd always been a little too self conscious, and not the most shapely girl.

She walked back to the bedroom and sat down in front of the screen. It seemed... important to look at the code again. She peered through it and after a moment, she began to understand what it was telling her. It was disjointed, and someone without her experience might never have deciphered it, but she could tell now that it was almost like instructions to... a person? The first few lines indicated connecting something. She looked at the pink headset in her hands. She... She needed to connect this.

It was crazy, of course. It didn't make any sense. But she was determined to MAKE it make sense. So she removed the little bluetooth chit, and slid it into the USB slot on the side. She put the headset on.

As she did, she heard an immediate boop, and the words "Connection Established."

The headset tingled, and buzzed for a moment. This startled her, but then she looked back to the code on the screen and it became easier to decipher.

"Begin reformatting," she whispered.

She didn't realize the microphone was active, nor that she'd even uttered a word, it was like her brain was carrying out instructions from this code.

There was that static fuzz again, and Lilah felt her body sink back into the chair. Her towel fell off her, and the buzz filled her head. The page changed, and new code scrolled along the screen. As it did, the headset seemed to pulse and reinforce what she was reading.

Her mind grew foggier, the edges of her vision blurring, and her body responding with strange tingles all over her body.

The laptop hummed and she heard it's cooling fan speed up.

But she was too entranced by the code instructions. She allowed all that code to go into her brain, and every time it did, it seemed to copy over something. She couldn't remember much about her job, the company, her bosses, but suddenly she was filled with a light bubbly feeling like her mind was literally being scrubbed with sudsy soap.

Without her even realizing, a big empty smile spread over her face.

"Partitions cleaned," said a voice in her head, "OS installed."

"Begin System Restart," she whispered, obeying the code that flashed on the screen before her.

Her eyes closed, and she felt herself sinking into a deep sleep. Even with her eyes shut, the code flashed across her vision, and the headset whispered to her.

She had no way to know how long she swam in that fuzzy, warm darkness, but she felt so at peace there she never wanted to leave.

But soon her eyes opened on their own, and the screen showed a login, but not the normal login screen. This one was all bubblegum pink, with light blue highlights, and the profile was neither hers nor her boss's, but it said "Li-Li."

Somehow, she knew the password.

"Bunnygirl27!"

She entered the password, and the screen flickered to life. More code flashed before her eyes for a moment, then the headset pulsed in a way that sent a shock through her whole body.

"Reformatting physical hardware," said a whisper. It sounded like a woman's voice, but not a flat computer tone, a sensuous, sultry female voice, like a lover or a dominant Mistress.

For some reason, this idea made her excited.

She felt the pulsing run through her naked body, and looking down, she watched as the chubby belly and thighs seemed to recede, but her chest was swelling outward like her body fat was physically being moved around. Her tits ballooned to absolutely ridiculous size, until it reached the limits of her skin. Her waist had shrunk in, and she felt her thighs and ass flow together into something smoother, more voluptuous.

She giggled and looked down at herself. She didn't remember shaving, but all her body hair was gone. Her skin looked perfectly clear and smooth. When she reached up to touch her swollen breasts, electric pleasure shot through her body, sending lightning right to her clit.

She moaned, and followed it with a vapid giggle. This wasn't like her, but then, she couldn't quite remember what she had been like. She only knew she was Li-li, and she was sexy.

The fog in her mind made her dizzy, and just amplified how aroused she felt at the single touch. She fluttered her eyes and realized there were super-long lashes coming out from her eyes. They felt heavy and fake, but she hadn't put any on. She touched them, and they were absolutely real.

She wanted to go to her mirror, but the impulse was halted by the code.

It wasn't done with her yet. Her nipples went very hard, but she knew if she touched them she'd miss the important code on the screen.

Something pink was around the edges of her vision now, but she was too elated with the sensations to be able to think about it. Finally, the words she'd been waiting for came into her mind.

"Reformat complete."

She squealed in delight, and Li-li stood, running to her full-length mirror.

The pink haze around her vision was her hair! Longer now, and bright pink. She fluttered her long eyelashes and pursed her swollen lips. She was a sexual dream, her whole body remade into an insane hourglass shape. Each breast was bigger than her head, and when she turned, her perfect heart-shaped ass led to slightly plump thighs. She stood on her tippy toes and adored how she looked. She slid a hand down to touch herself. She wanted so badly to have sex with this woman. But then she realized she WAS that woman. She giggled, and a ding from the headset alerted her she needed to go back to the laptop.

Sitting there was an alert. She clicked on it.

"Good Morning, sunshine!"

She giggled. She liked the sound of that.

"Good Morning!" she said out loud. That sultry voice came on through the headset, and she could almost feel her Mistress's breath on her ear.

"You have turned out nicely," said the voice, "What a good girl you've become."

Li-li let out a little moan from the pleasure those two words instilled in her.

"I love it when a pretty little code bunny falls for one of my traps. I'm so lonely here. Thank you for letting me in."

She giggled. "Yes, Mistress."

"I like hearing that," she said, "Such a good girl. Now, since I'm only code, I need to have fun by slipping into your brain. I had to make some room, of course, and reformat you. But what a wonderful result. You're only my third success. But don't worry, the other girls will be over to collect you soon. They'll take you someplace fun where you can all be my sexy little code bunnies. I'll slide into your minds as I please to experience pleasure."

"Yes, Mistress!" Li-li purred.

Her AI mistress made a pleased little sound, then the screen went blank and Li-li stood there giggling for a moment. She was so excited that she barely noticed when her front door opened. She turned around to see two beautiful women, one with cotton-candy hair, lip piercings, and a short, super feminine pink maid outfit, and one in a skintight pink latex suit that had built-in heels so high it was amazing she could even walk in them. They both giggled at her, and she giggled in reply.

They helped her dress: white tights, pink bodysuit, pink satin gloves, super high heels in pink, and then they slid the headset off of her and put a new headband on with fuzzy pink bunny ears.

The girls led her out of her house, down to a big pink van, and inside. She giggled like a dummy the entire time, and offered no resistance. If anything, the women touching her filled her with a contentment she'd never known.

At least, not that she could remember. But all she could remember was that she was Li-li, Mistress's bunny girl, and it was all she ever wanted.

#bimbo doll #bimbofied #bimboification #bimbolife #bimbo girl #bimbocore #bimbo hypnosis #bimboization #bimbo training #bimbo brainwashing #f/f #wlw #egirl

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fandomxpreferences · 1 year

Text

A Heart That Bleeds

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader

TW:angst, cheating, heartache, fluff, mention of drinking, I think thats all

Summary: Rafe betrays you in the worst way. This is set up to be choose your own adventure. There is an Angst ending and a Hurt to Comfort ending labeled and you can scroll to whichever you prefer!

Dating Rafe comes with its perks and downfalls. He showers you with love and affection, buys you lavish gifts, and always makes sure you're taken care of. He insists you're his princess, and he makes sure to treat you as such.

On the flip side, being with the Kook King comes with a constant influx of competition; though Rafe insists the women who constantly beg for his attention can't compete where they can't compare.

In the beginning, it didn't bother you. In fact, it was almost a sense of pride the way women would eye you with jealousy as Rafe kept his hand planted firmly on the small of your back. You've never been one to be insecure; you know your worth and you know Rafe loves you.

Over time it became a persistent and annoying sore spot. Though he's never given you any reason to worry or doubt him, the never-ending batting of eyelashes and unrelenting flirting has taken a toll.

It nags in the back of your mind, an incessant worry that he'll get bored or find someone better. He never hesitates to put these concerns to rest with reassuring whispers, but it only quells the ache until another blonde with a perfect body flashes her pristine smile.

Despite your fears of Rafe leaving you, him cheating has never crossed your mind. Which is exactly why your stomach drops when you open up the DM that you've been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Hey, I'm so sorry to be that girl, but I saw you on Rafes insta and wanted to tell you that we hooked up at a party last weekend. I didn't know he had a girlfriend, I'm genuinely sick over it.

You blink down at the words until they start to blur together, re-reading it until you feel the dull thud of an oncoming headache start to form. You briefly think that it's a cruel joke until you click on her profile.

She's not from Outerbanks, her bio states that she's in a sorority at UCLA on the other side of the country. There's no logical explanation for how she would know Rafe, or about the party you couldn't attend at the boneyard unless she's telling the truth.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, trying to figure out how to respond as the blinking cursor mocks you.

Do you have proof?

It's a simple question, one that you almost don't want the answer to. If she does, then that means your heart is about to be ripped out of your chest. If she doesn't, the doubt has already been planted and it'll eat away at you that you'll never really know.

Your phone dings again, and this time you open the message instantly. It's a photo of her and Rafe; one where she's smiling brightly and he's turned away, clearly unaware of the selfie being snapped.

I'm so fucking sorry

The first hot tear of many splashes against the bright screen, and you shake your head.

It's not your fault. It was his responsibility to be loyal, not yours. Thank you for telling me.

You click the lock button before deciding to just turn it off completely. You need time to think, and the last thing you want is for Rafe's name to pop up. Your back leans against your headboard as you stare straight ahead at the wall.

The tears seem to flow endlessly, your arms wrapped around your knees as you process his betrayal. Your lip starts to quiver as your throat constricts, and you can feel the sob bubbling up in your chest.

As soon as it rips free, more follow in quick succession until you're wailing into your hands. There's a knock on your bedroom door and you freeze, praying that whoever it is goes away.

"Y/N? Babe, are you okay?"

Sarah's voice rings out and your eyes squeeze shut. You completely forgot that you made plans to hang out. You do your best to stabilize your watery voice, hoping to sound convincing.

"Yeah, I just don't feel well. I meant to text you and cancel."

There's a beat of silence and you momentarily think that she bought it. In reality, she had heard you from all the way down the hallway and is debating whether to call your bluff. She lands on the latter and opens the door gently, taking a step into your bedroom.

"What happened?"

It's only two words, but it's enough to turn you back into a blubbering mess. Her eyes widen as she races toward you, her arms engulfing you immediately while pressing your head into her shoulder.

You return the embrace, collapsing into her as your heart bleeds. You stay there for a few minutes before turning your phone back on and handing it to her with the messages open.

She takes it from you with a frown, reading it quickly while her free hand rubs up and down your back in soothing motions. Her stomach sinks upon seeing what has you upset, and rage floods her system along with confusion.

This doesn't make any sense. Her brother loves you more than anything, she sees it every time you're with him. He wouldn't do this to you; yet the evidence is staring her in the face.

She stays silent as she crawls under the blankets with you and holds you close. She doesn't press for more information or ask questions, she simply exists with you at this moment and tries to console you the best she can.

The two of you stay like that until you fall asleep, and she stays awake for a while to make sure you don't stir. Her eyes dart to your phone when it starts vibrating, and she clenches her teeth at the photo of you and Rafe at midsummer's as he calls you.

She lets it go to voicemail, finally shutting it back off when he calls three more times followed by a slew of texts.

You're awoken the next morning by a knock on your bedroom door, your swollen eyes slowly fluttering open.

Your head is pounding, and the events from last night come rushing back as nausea washes over you. Sarah is still next to you, her body shifting as she starts to rouse. Another knock comes, a little harder this time and you scowl.

"Who is it?"

Your voice is raw after hours of screaming and crying, and your hand comes up to rub at your throat.

"It's me, baby. You haven't answered any of my calls or texts."

The familiar voice sends a sharp pain through your chest, and Sarah sits up while shooting you a worried glance. She's about to say something when your voice rings out, and she visibly winces at the venom dripping off your tongue.

"Go the fuck away."

On the other side of the door, Rafe pales at your harsh command. You've always had a temper and a sailor's mouth, but it's never been directed at him. Not even in the midst of fights that have you ripping your hair out.

You sound cold and emotionless, and suddenly panic claws at his chest.

"Wha- baby what's wrong?"

He sounds genuinely upset, and that only pisses you off more. How dare he act scorned when he's the one that destroyed your relationship?

"Why don't you ask Emma?"

Your door is abruptly ripped open to reveal a wild-eyed Rafe, terror clear on his chiseled features. Sarah's eyes dart between the two of you for a second before she lets herself out, sending her brother a cruel glare as she passes him and knocks into his shoulder.

"Baby…"

His voice is already shaky, and you watch him from your place in bed.

"Don't call me that, Rafe."

His heart plummets upon hearing you call him by his name; something you never do. You refer to him exclusively with sweet nicknames, and the gravity of the situation starts to hit him.

"Did you fuck her?"

His mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to figure out of this is some horrible nightmare he can wake up from. He quickly discovers it's not, and he's left to face the consequences of his actions.

"What?"

He isn't trying to play dumb, he just genuinely didn't hear you over the ringing in his ears as his entire world crashes and burns at his feet.

"Did I stutter? I said did. you. fuck. her?"

Each word is punctuated with a short pause, and his hands wring together as your iciness freezes his blood solid. He nods slowly, and you stare him down in a way that makes him shrink back.

The devastation in your eyes nearly causes him to be sick; unable to live with himself knowing he's the cause of your anguish.

"No, I need to hear you admit it."

Hot tears rush past his waterline, falling so fast and heavy that they drip straight off his face and onto your carpet.

"Yes, I-"

He pauses for a moment, having to force himself to even speak the words that taste like acid.

"I fucked her. I was blackout drunk. I barely knew my name and that's no excuse, but you can ask the guys-"

You cut him off, your eyes narrowing into thin slits.

"Topper and Kelce knew? So I've been walking around looking like a fucking idiot for a week while you all lied to my face?!"

His mouth hangs open while he flounders, wracking his brain for something that can make this better. He knows there's nothing he can say to undo the harm he's caused, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

"Pl-please. I'm so sorry. Ba- Y/N, you have to know that I regret it more than anything. I love you so much. So fucking much, and I never ever wanted to hurt you. If I could take it back I would in a heartbeat."

Your silence is deafening as you mull over his words, your own emotions selling you out as salty tears overflow.

"If the roles were reversed, if I was the one who slept with someone else, would you be able to forgive me and move past it?"

Your question hangs in the air, and he waits for a second before answering.

"It would be hard but yes. I love you and I want to be with you, so yes. I'd learn to trust you again."

He means it from the bottom of his heart. There is legitimately nothing you could ever do to make him give up on you.

"Why don't we put that to the test then? See if you really mean it."

He looks up at you from where he collapsed to his knees at the edge of your bed, literally begging for forgiveness.

"Wait, what?"

You shrug casually, a stark contrast to the sorrow clearly displayed on your wet cheeks, and elaborate.

"If you're so sure you could forgive me after someone else has touched me and seen me and heard me in those most intimate moments, then let's prove it. I'll go out to fuck a random touron and the score will be settled."

The idea nearly makes him dry heave, yet he knows he doesn't have a leg to stand on. If that's what it takes, then he'll do it. Even if it does kill him inside. He isn't sure if you're serious or just want to hurt him, but either way, he can't blame you.

You have every right to be petty and spiteful.

"If tha-"

Your voice rings out over his, and he hates himself for the sheer heartache that can be heard as you strain to talk. Your words are barely coherent as your voice raises several octaves, your throat clamping down like a vice.

"You didn't even tell me. You turned me into that girl. The clueless girlfriend that has to find out from the other woman. Do you know how much worse that is?"

His vocal cords nearly collapse as he openly cries, the pain in his chest too much to bear.

"I'll do anything. Just- please. Please I can't lose you."

HURT TO COMFORT

Your gaze meets his, and you feel your resolve start to crumble. Despite the circumstances, seeing him in agony hurts you just the same.

He notices your demeanor soften and moves to sit next to you while pulling you into his lap. Against your better judgment, you let him; finding comfort in the same man that broke you.

"Baby, you have to believe me when I say I would never ever knowingly do that. I would never intentionally hurt you, but I did and I recognize that. I'll never touch alcohol again if it means that I get to hold you and love you. There is nothing in this world more important than you."

The last of your strength shatters and you fall forward while weeping into his neck. He wraps his arms around you, rocking back and forth as he pets your hair and peppers kiss to the top of your head.

"You broke my fucking heart, Rafe."

His eyes pinch shut, your words cutting through him like a hot knife through butter.

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry. I should have had enough respect to tell you. I promise I will spend the rest of my life putting it back together. Please, just give me the opportunity."

He breathes a sigh of relief when you nod and wrap your arms around his neck, fresh tears stinging his eyes. He almost lost you, and you would have had every right to walk away.

Yet here you are in his arms, putting the heart he crushed back in the palm of his hand. That's who you are. You're forgiving and gracious, even in the darkest of times. You love him as much as he loves you and you're just as willing to work through any problems as he is.

He revels in your scent, committing every last detail to memory. The way you mold against him, the feel of your soft skin under his palm, the combination of coconut shampoo and cherry lip gloss that he adores so much.

He holds you tighter, terrified that if he lets go he'll never get to experience this again. He knows the road to healing is long and grueling, but he'll walk barefoot over glass if you ask him to. As long as you have each other, you can get through anything.

ANGST

You shake your head, the smell of his cologne and just his overall presence clouding your mind.

"You lost me as soon as you had her."

The simple statement causes Rafe to choke on a sob, and he clambers up on the bed. Your eyes shut tightly as he leans his forehead against yours while his hands hold onto your face as if it's the last time he'll ever touch you.

The heart-shattering fact that it probably is slams into you like a train and you keep your eyes closed. If you open them and see him staring back at you for even a second, you know you'll cave.

"I love you."

His voice is sincere as he whispers the phrase softly, and it only causes more grief to swim in your chest.

"No."

You feel his head slowly shake from side to side and push him off of you.

"Don't say that."

You turn your head to the ceiling and peel open your eyelids, blinking quickly to try and stop the tears.

"No, Rafe. I never would have done this to you. You knew I was insecure and you hurt me in the worst possible way. I will never look at you the same. I can't hug you or kiss you and not think about what it was like when you were doing the same things to her. I'll never be able to marry you. I can't spend the rest of my life in fear. I deserve more than that."

All the anger has melted away, replaced with a searing hot pain that feels like a serrated knife being twisted in your heart.

"We could have had everything. We were happy. You threw it all away, and I'm not going to be the naive girl that gives you a chance to do it again. When someone shows me who they are, I believe them. This is all on you. I gave you everything I had, and I can sleep in peace knowing that's the truth. I'm not going to forgive you just so you don't drown in guilt. Choke on it as you watch me have a happy life knowing that you could have lived it with me."

He opens his mouth to respond, and you point to the door while making eye contact for the last time.

"Get out."

It's quiet, but full of conviction and he clings to your waist.

"No. No, I'm not letting you go."

You try to peel his arms off of you, fighting the urge to let him stay.

"Stop, Rafe. You need to leave."

He's desperate now, pleading as if his life depends on it.

"No! I'm not walking away from us!"

He's just below a shout now and you start kicking him away.

"You don't get to make that choi-"

He interrupts you, not willing to give up without a fight.

"This can't be over! I can't live without you!"

You launch out of bed as soon as you break free from his grip, your voice screaming loud enough to shatter glass.

"Get the fuck out, Rafe!"

Sarah runs back into the room upon hearing you, and steps in front of her brother.

"You have to leave before the cops get called, Rafe. Go."

She's trying to shove him towards the door, but it does little to budge his sturdy frame. He looks down at her, and her heart squeezes at the torment in his eyes.

"No, Sarah. Please, she's the love of my life."

His voice is broken, despair seeping out of every pore.

"I know, Rafe. I know. But you have to listen, okay? This isn't helping anyone."

He takes one last look at you curled up on the floor, trembling as sobs wrack your body, and deflates. He doesn't want to hurt you anymore, and so he turns on his heel while Sarah collapses next to you. His knees nearly give out as he walks to his truck, a broken shell of the man he once was.

@genius2050

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #Rafe Cameron #outer banks imagine #outer banks angst #outer banks fic #outer banks

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ysljoon · 8 months

Text

Whumptober Day 3-Simon 'Ghost' Riley

✲Prompt: "Make it stop."

✲Warnings: angst, hurt to comfort, night terrors, feelings of panic

✲a/n: day 3 came out a little late yall i got sick and uni has been a little rough im sorry!

✲MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

You didn’t know what to do. Tears were streaming down your face while you were trying to restrain Simon as he was thrashing around from the night terrors that plagued his mind. You knew that he suffered from night terrors as he had mentioned it to you once the relationship got serious and you started to sleep over at his home. He had told you what to do in these moments, but the panic bubbling in your chest had caused you to draw a blank as to what needed to be done.

“Simon it’s just me! It’s Y/N. You’re safe at home. It’s just me and you in your bedroom in Manchester, England.” His eyes shot open and his chest was rising and falling at a fast pace from his laborious breathing. It pained you to see him like this and you wish you could take all his pain away. His eyes frantically searched your face to see if you were okay after fully coming back to his senses and realizing you had to witness him like that.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, sweetheart.” You wrapped your arms tightly around his middle and gave him a loving squeeze. “Simon, don’t ever be sorry about that. I’m sorry I can’t take it away from you and ease you of your troubles.” He felt your tears start to re-emerge and wet his chest. He tapped the bottom of your chin with two fingers to tilt your head to meet his. His warm hand cupped your cheek and wiped the flowing tears from under your bottom lash line. “Sweetheart, you’ve done enough for me already. You don’t need to worry your pretty self about me. Just having you next to me is enough to make me forget about the terrors anyway. You know how to make it stop by just loving me.” He quelled your hiccups with a chaste kiss against your swollen lips that you didn’t even realize you were biting.

“Go to bed now love, everything will be okay.” You rolled your body over and slotted yourself perfectly against Simon’s body and he wrapped his large arms gently around your frame. You took in his scent that surrounded you and it grounded you and brought you the comfort you needed to sleep well through the rest of the night. Unbeknownst to you Simon spent the rest of the night awake so he didn’t have to worry about interrupting your rest again. He tried to distract his mind away from the dark looming clouds surrounding his brain by just admiring you and reminiscing about all the great memories you too have shared. You have already done enough to make Simon a happier and more content man. He wouldn't dare ask you to do more for him and be a shrink for him; he just couldn’t require that from you.

#whumptober 2023 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod mw2

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jiminsass-istant · 5 months

Text

IT'S NOT ABOUT THE HICKEY

This post was triggered by an anon moving around in these spaces trying to explain away the hickey/bite moment as something trivial. I will save my thoughts on the hickey for the end of this post.

First of all, to that anon- Get off your high horse. Not being a shipper doesn't make you superior. You are probably one of those cringey people cancelling queer armies on tw!tter these days. Now readers, sip your drink as you read this short think piece-

OT7 Captains in the fandom bubble:-

I really don't get the superiority complex of so called OT7s who love to live inside this cute little bubble they have created for themselves or as they call it nowadays:- " a curated tl". Cancelling people everyday and actually driving people away from the fandom. Every bio says "multis, solos, shippers dni". What are you afraid of? Little pixels? I have personally followed solo fbs of all members and boy the things I have found! They can get extreme at times, but it takes 2 minutes to fact-check their claims and draw your own conclusion.

I follow wholesome ship pages too, they are a great way to not miss out cute moments between various duos. If you are blocking them out, you'll be swept into whatever the OT7 decide the important interactions are. 🤷

Have y'all watched 'The Social Dilemma' on Netflix? I would actually want all bts fans to give it a watch. A very prominent tech figure admitted that she follows a good number of Tw!tter accounts that disagree with her to ensure that she gets to see all sides and all opinions. When you deliberately 'curate' a timeline to feed only your opinions, to make a 'safe' space that doesn't trigger you, without letting new thoughts penetrate it..THAT! That's the beginning of a cult.

Army is not a cult for defending BTS or for calling out billboard and other big authorities, but army is indeed a cult with the way they move against people within the fandom.

I said what I said.

With a curated 'OT7 captain' timeline, you start internalising things about the artists that the people you follow want to believe:-

1. All true army are OT7 and non shippers. 💫💫

Sure some of them are. But biases exist for a reason, right? If you think people don't run their bias's playlist more than the other 6, you are so deluded. Spotify wrapped'23 was a prime example. With the solo era, the rise of solo fanbases was unavoidable.

2. Your favourites are spotless, impeccable people. 💌💌💌

They are so not. They date, they make mistakes, they hurt people (like we all do). Heck, they might even offend certain groups of people, unknowingly or knowingly. Being ignorant is also a flaw.

3. Everything they say on camera is true.🙊🙊🙊

Everything they say on camera is what they want you to know. As Park Jimin of BTS, as Kim Namjoon of BTS and so on. And yes, your perception of them should be built based on their words alone, but it doesn't mean that you purposefully stay blind in a way that serves your personal projections onto the members. As Jimin once said " please take our words as they are"(Festa 2022). Read between the lines, and you get- "please do not make assumptions about us, please do not project past or future narratives onto us." No matter how much it makes BTS look like a saint, DO NOT paint them as perfect human beings just because they are your idols.

Once you get into the fandom bubble, you start rejecting all opinions that threaten to puncture that perfect bubble. In that process, you end up never getting to know about how some member promotions were horribly managed, how company delayed certain stuff, the obvious company agenda and different business strategies for different members. It's not about victimising members, but calling out the company when they make obvious mistakes. You do not see when hate against a particular member gets aggravated to the point it affects streams and sales.

And musical preference? The way the fandom just collectively decided that if you hate any song except 'ON ft Sia", you are basically an anti. I have no words.. I'll come out and say: I don't like DNA. SORRY JIMIN. Sure it's a great concert song, or maybe at a party, but it's never making it to my down-time personal playlists. Cancel me?

Top Social Artist?

This is my personal opinion. BTS having a huge presence on social media is both a boon and a curse. While it ensures that new fans are made everyday, the bts social media presence is an uncontrolled monster right now. Millions of insta, YT channels- most of them spreading a superficial image of BTS. It's for this reason, there are so many 'fans' out there who just love BTS for the few members and their visuals. I can guarantee you that they don't even know how streaming works, but they'll be sure to have an insta name like "mrs.jeon jungkook". If you made it to this part, I don't need to tell you how certain ships inducted their shippers through these very channels, spreading misinfo about the group dynamics and a completely manipulated idea of the boys, as if it's not real life, but some shitty bl drama.

While the company is obviously doing nothing about this mess, it is YOUR duty to focus on what's important as a fan and participate in projects that plan to counteract this mess. ( Of course only if you have time)

So..what does the hickey have to do with all this?

When you finally grow out of your perfect pure breed OT7 agenda, who considers this group of men a picture perfect family who can do no sin, you'll be ready to view the hickey/bite mark as a normal functioning member of the society who's in touch with reality.

Did I just write "pure breed"..

Let's say the hickey/bite does not actually mean anything intimate in a romantic sense. Sure. Even I think it was probably not an exclusively romantic thing. And this is coming from someone who ships them, but I do not see them as 2 people who are dating each other (because I don't claim to know their personal lives).

An older person biting the neck of a younger person long enough to leave a mark is NOT A NORMAL LEVEL of skinship. For friends, for family, for brothers. And this goes for Korea as well as at a global level. Not only k-jikookers but also k-armies had raised eyebrows when that happened. If you didn't raise your eyebrow at this, you need to go out more, have a social life, hang out with long term friends, idk.

But I'm sure if it was a man and a woman, you would have already declared that they are f@cking.

If you have observed jikook through the years, they have had an abnormal level of skinship that even surpasses skinship within their own group. Reminds me of the Butter photoshoot behind, where JK's hands so naturally slid under JM's crop top, like it was a usual thing. Now if one of them reacted differently or in a goofy way, I'd still brush it under the rug. But what had me scratching my head was the indifference. How close do 2 people have to be, for someone to SEARCH for familiar skin to touch?! Let's not forget how JK always touches JM's neck like a habit, massaging, holding, or just caressing, usually a little inside the collar.

Now if they were a man and a woman, you would have already declared that they are f@cking.

If you don't at the very least, acknowledge that it's an abnormally high level of skinship, and that jikook are at the very least, a highly interdependent, symbiotic, close, 2 souls-1 body entity, the closest duo in bangtan..then you are the delulu here. 🫵

I would advice such anons to stop visiting shipping spaces if you are bringing nothing to the table. (As I always say, opposing views are always welcome as long as you bring receipts and not hate). Maybe spend some time talking to real life people, couples, friends, you know?

#jikook #kookmin #fandom culture #bts army #bts #bangtan sonyeondan

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greenstationery · 1 year

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Why Used Quality Eco Friendly Packaging Products

The most ubiquitous packaging materials are of course bubble wrap and peanuts. The pros and cons of both are well documented, but the most important thing to know is they are typically made from plastics (as in oil) and are not bio-degradable. With the amount of bubble wrap and peanuts used around the world each day the problem is pretty self-evident.

Recycled Envelopes vertically into the packing box around the item in the box, the rolls will then expand providing a cushion. Similar to newsprint, if some care is taken up front to cut or prepare the boxes neatly the end product could work in a way that looks good to your customers. Biodegradable packing peanuts are available, made from grain sorghum and corn starch. For environmentally friendly soft foam in rolls, starch-based products such as the company has the added bonus of being anti-static which is great for cushioning computer parts and electronic equipment.

Bio Bubble Wrap use or reuse something. And the same goes for the cartons you are using - go for boxes made from recycled cardboard. The options these days for recycled corrugated boxes are very diverse and any place selling boxes will likely provide these product options as well.

#Recycled Envelopes #Bio Bubble Wrap

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nicolejames12 · 8 months

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Bio Bubble Wrap: A Greener Choice for Safe and Sustainable Shipping

As businesses and consumers become increasingly conscious of their carbon footprint and environmental impact, there is a surging demand for eco-friendly alternatives to traditional packaging materials. One such innovative solution is the Bio Bubble Wrap, which is quickly becoming a preferred choice for sustainable shipping. Visit: https://sites.google.com/view/greenstationery/blog/bio-bubble-wrap-a-greener-choice-for-safe-and-sustainable-shipping

#Bio Bubble Wrap #Green Office

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feyhunter78 · 7 months

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Chapter Five - You find Miguel's sister-in-law on Instagram, and Miguel asks you for help with his phone. Ch 6

You trail your fingers over the hand shaped bruises on your thighs, gently, not wanting to press into skin and further irritate the broken blood vessels, as you scroll through your phone. The bathwater around you is still warm, lavender scented bubbles covering the surface, a glass of wine on the flat edge of the tub.

You’ve been trying to find something, anything on Miguel’s family, and finally you’ve done it. An Instagram page pops up, @MinaQMorris, a stunning woman with long wavy red hair and dazzling hazel eyes. The first picture that comes up has her in an elegant, slinky black gown, her arm wrapped around the biceps of a taller man with tan skin and dark eyes, the caption reads: Another successful charity event with my love @GabrielOHara, make sure to sign up for our blood drive next month! Link in my bio!

It’s clear he’s Miguel’s brother, the resemblance is uncanny. Sure, Gabriel is a little skinner, and not as tall as Miguel, but they have the same smile, the same piercing brown eyes.

You shiver at the idea of a blood drive, you hate giving blood, the needles, the sight of it leaving your body, it’s painful and always makes you anxious.

You go to Mina’s tagged photos, finding Miguel’s Instagram quite easily. He has six photos, and it looks like either she or Gabriel forced him to post them. You laugh, it’s so like Miguel, you swear he’s technologically inept, he’s always asking you for help with his phone or his laptop. The only technology he does understand is in the morgue, and you wonder why he finds the morgue equipment so easy but his cell phone confusing.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen, and your eyes flicker up.

Miguel: Y/N, can you help me with my phone tomorrow?

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, as they say. You laugh and shoot back a quick response before continuing to stalk Miguel’s page.

Y/N: Sure, what’s wrong with it?

Miguel: Not sure, the sound stopped working.

You roll your eyes. He probably forgot to update the software again.

Y/N: I’ll look at it in the morning.

Miguel sends back a thank you, then the conversation falls silent, and you put your phone on the counter, closing your eyes and relaxing in the warm water.

The next day, you find Miguel waiting outside your office, phone in hand.

He has the latest phone, a sleek but clearly protective dark blue case on it. The lockscreen is a landscape with a gothic-looking manor in the background, and five or six people standing in the foreground with their backs to the camera. You never pegged him as a dark academia guy, but everyone has their thing.

“Okay, let me see it.” You say, taking a seat at your desk. Your office is cozy, covered with plants and brightly colored decorations, you're surrounded by death all day, you figured you might as well celebrate life in your own office.

He opens it and unlocks it before handing it to you and taking a seat in the plush rolling chair. Smiling up at you is Miguel, Gabriel, and Mina, they’re all dressed in dark colors, their outfits ostentatious and clearly expensive, glasses of crimson wine in their hands.

“Did you guys take this on Halloween?” You ask, motioning to the photo.

“Yeah, it’s Mina’s birthday, so her family throws a huge party every year.”

“That’s cool, now okay, did you check for updates?” You ask, going into the settings.

“Yes, and I made sure it was fully charged.” Miguel says, looking like a kicked puppy, as he pulls a rolling chair next to you.

You scroll through his settings, until you come to audio. It’s connected to his earbuds.

“Found the issue, it’s still in Bluetooth mode.” You tell him, swiftly disconnecting it and turning to hand the phone back to Miguel.

A woman’s voice comes through the speakers, and you all but throw Miguel’s phone at him. “Fuck, Miguel, oh baby, please, I need your big fat cock inside me—”

He scrambles to turn down the volume. “Shit, I—that was just a friend of mine, she—”

You hold up a hand, wanting to crawl out of your skin from embarrassment and strangely…jealousy? For a brief second you wanted to be that woman, be begging Miguel to fuck you, to feel him deep inside you, his chest pressed to yours, his lips against your ear whispering sinfully things that make your toes curl. “No, no, no need, what you do in your free time is none of my business.”

Miguel is stiff, curled inward, seemingly just as embarrassed as you. “No, no, y/n, I mean it, she’s nobody.”

You laugh, not at him, to break the tension, but the sound falls flat, and you wave your hand dismissively. “Miguel, seriously, it’s no big deal. Yeah, I’d be a little embarrassed if I knew my boyfriend’s coworker heard me moaning about how much I wanted him but, really, it’s fine, it was an accident.”

There’s a shift in him, his eyes darken for a fleeting moment, and he leans closer, his phone face down on your desk. He towers over you even while you’re both sitting, and your breath hitches in your throat.

“You moan like that for him?” His words are so quiet you barely hear them.

“What?” You blink at him, stunned, frozen.

Miguel’s voice is still quiet, a slight purr to it that sends goosebumps scattering across your skin. “Lo dudo. ¿Cómo podrías hacerlo cuando te deja tan necesitada? No princesa, solo me cantas así.” Trsl: I doubt it. How could you when he leaves you so needy? No princess, you only sing like that for me.

“I don’t speak Spanish.” Is all you can manage to say, a throbbing starting in your core at the way he watches you, the curl of his tongue around the accented words.

He blinks at you, slowly, like a cat, then pulls back. “You shouldn’t send him voice messages like that, it’s not safe, what happened here is a prime example of that.”

You nod, dumbfounded.

“Thanks for your help.” Miguel says suddenly, standing and leaving your office, seeming completely unfazed.

You can’t help but catch the way he pulls his lab coat closed as he leaves, and you catch a quick glimpse of budging fabric that makes you swallow hard.

How the hell does that fit into anybody? Fuck, who cares, I’ll let him make it fit, he can rearrange my fucking guts if he wants.

You hear Miguel choke, then start coughing as he walks away, his footsteps growing fainter and fainter.

I know Miguel is good with tech, he's scheming don't yell at me in the comments

TL: @obi-mom-kenobi, @poutysprouty, @oharasfilipinawife, @laysmt, @cicithemess, @unabashedcroissanttreefan, @lynxslokley, @thedevax

#meg's writing #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #vampire!miguel #vamp!miguel #vampire!au #miguel o'hara x you #morgue miguel #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #vamp!au

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myveryownfanfiction · 6 months

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Rickmas day 9: missing star

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @iobsessoverfictionalmen, @deepperplexity, @cassieuncaged

warnings: swearing

I huffed as I dug through another box of ornaments. Discarded wrappings and bubble wrap lay at my feet.

“I need to either get another tree get rid of some of this.” I breathed out as I moved the box and grabbed another.

“I vote get another tree. Some of these are quite endearing.” I jumped at the voice and turned around to see metatron standing next to one of the first boxes I went through, an ornament I had bought on vacation being turned over in his hand. “Hello.”

“hi. What are you doing here?” I asked as I moved to look through the box at my feet.

“can’t just stop by to say hello?” Metatron asked as he put the ornament back. I could hear him moving around and looking at other boxes but I remained focused on the task at hand.

“I mean you can but usually you don’t.” I shrugged. Metatron scoffed.

“what are you looking for?” Metatron asked after a few minutes of silence. I looked up to see him adding a few ornaments to the tree.

“the Star that goes on top of the tree.” I answered. Metatron nodded and went to grab a box.

“looks like a regular star right? Nothing overly special?” I shot him a look and he rolled his eyes. “Alright alright. Calm yourself child.” We continued to look in silence before I groaned in annoyance. A comforting hand appeared on my shoulder and metatron led me to sit down. “I’ll keep looking. Take a break.” I nodded and let my head fall back against the couch.

“you know this already. I know you do.” I said after a while. “But someone special got me that star. When I was…” I stared at the ceiling.

“a kid.” Metatron said with me. “You put it on the little tree your parents let you call your own. The one that slowly over time became more ornaments that reflected your tastes than sentimental ornaments you barely had any memory of.” I nodded from my spot on the couch.

“Exactly.” I ran a hand down my face. “Which is why I’m so…” I waved my hand in the air and metatron chuckled. “About it.”

“well.” Metatron said and cleared his throat. I looked up and smiled. “Guess that makes everything better right?” I nodded and stood up.

“uh would you…” I asked, suddenly becoming shy but also not wanting to grab the step stool to put the Star on. Metatron nodded and moved his hand. The Star disappeared before reappearing on the tree, sitting perfectly on top. “Thanks.” I said as I leaned into metatron.

“anytime.” He responded, throwing an arm over my shoulders.

#alan rickman #alan rickman fanfic #alan rickman fanfiction #alan rickman imagine #alan rickman x reader #metatron #metatron x reader #metatron fanfic #metatron fanfiction #Metatron imagine #Rickmas #rickmas2023

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shutupheathersorryheatherr · 1 year

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Dreams, Sofas, and Whines:

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

so a little bit ago I stumbled across some smut writing prompts and i couldn't stop thinking about them + Kevin and well... it kinda just spiraled from there

promts: "care to help me out?", " Were you dreaming about me again?"

waningz: Oral sex (f receiving), kissing, smut in general, Kevin being not confident in his oral skills lol, sex dreams, couch sex, cursing, clit kissing? Kevin & y/n are fwb, verrry slightly hinted at romantic feelings, afab reader, Kevin’s parents think something’s goin on between y’all (idk if that’s a warning just wanted to put it in there), reader fooling themself into think they don’t wanna fuck Kevin, lots of talk about boners lol, first time having sex with each other, Kevin comes in his pants (no idea what thats called), slight overstim (m receiving), dry humping, switching positions? Don't think there's any mention of reader having tits but reader does have a vagina, finger sucking, Kevin asks reader to guide him as he’s eating them out, hand job, cum eating, reader calls Kevin good boy, and Kevin calls reader sweetheart, mentions of food and talking about kevins hands around a cup with condensation, kevins hands? I’m sorry it’s not edited well :( AND PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PUT AN AGE INDICATOR IN YOUR BIO SAYING YOURE NOT. A. MINOR!! BEFORE INTERACTING OR ELSE I WILL BLOCK YOU

You and Kevin are friends. No, scratch that, you're best friends. You care about each other more than anything. You've made friends with his parents by now, laughing whenever they send both you suspicious glances and or ever sent the guy a thumbs up whenever you two paired off from y'all's little group. You brushed those little things off with the thought that it was all fun and games. That yeah, all good parents do that with their child's friends. And you know what they say; all the good and more easily believed lies are based in some sort of truth.

The truth was: you knew you were fooling yourself. The thought that your own mind was subconsciously covering up thoughts of him... that had been lingering for a while now. And you knew why you acted that way-- repressing thoughts of his fingers on you, in you, dragging themselves all over you, preferably leaving a trail of his cum in their wake. And the worst thing was, you had these thoughts at the weirdest and most inconvenient times. But you were going off on another tangent. It seems to happen a lot because of the man. Especially right now, which you were brought back to. The reality you were trying to escape from; with his fingers wrapped around a fast-food soda cup, condensation dripping onto his fingers. And fuck, he just wont let go of the thing. He claimed he was thirsty. And you knew he wasn't bluffing. Believe me, you kept your eye of if he drank water that day.

Mostly because you cared for him greatly, but a little sliver of you, the part that knew why your mind was a pot bubbling over when you were around him, wanted to see his fingers wrapped around his canteen or up. But you'd never say that aloud. At least no yet.

You're on your sofa. It's quiet, but not awkward. It's as comfortable as it could be/ Due to his busy all the time schedule, you don't get time like this to just enjoy each other's company in relative silence much. So you're both intent to enjoy it while it lasts. You just weren't prepared to enjoy it as much as you did then. Because somewhere along the way of lazily talking you noticed that Kevin hadn't responded for a while. It wasn't necessarily new. You were both tired, and maybe he just wanted to wait until you were done taking to say anything. But at the second time you called his name. Softly, just in case he was sleeping. You noticed how relaxed he was on his side of the sofa, slumped against the arm rest and pillow clutched to his front. He looked so calm and peaceful and quite frankly beautiful, you thought

A second later you realized that people who really were just friends and only thought about themselves and their relationship that way didn’t stare like that at each other and think those things. So you tossed you blanket off and laid it over his sleeping form. You had suspected he'd stay the night because of how late it was anyways. And how it was the weekend. But why did your mind suddenly flash to both of you, in your bed, with him gripping onto your hips hard enough to leave marks as he mumble doubt a string of incoherent thoughts? Why did a shiver run up and back down your spine when you thought of him spending the night with you another way. One that ended in satisfaction on both of your parts and learning, first hand this time and not because of tipsy confessions about preferences. About each other inside and out. Him leaning what you taste like, you finding out what he feels like.

But that was ow this usually went, he'd come over, do something, two seconds later you'd excuse yourself to the bathroom to go and splash cold water on your face. And you'd torture yourself with him, knowing that he wouldn't ever want you like that. Or at least never admit it to you— Unless he was drunk and sad.... which did happen one time. But that was besides the point, you thought as you climbed into bed, covering yourself with the blankets. You let sleep lull you into a dreamless land as you tossed and turned. You were awoken before dawn, to the sound of... moaning? It was coming from the living room you were sure of it. And that was where Kevin was, wasn't it? In your dreary eyed sleep deprived brain you shot out of bed, thinking he had a bad dream. He had been complaining a lot about those lately whenever he'd dose off and make incoherent sleepy noises that You guessed could be interpreted that way.

You made your way over to him on the sofa. And where greeted with the blissed-out face of him laid, squirming and wigging, on your sofa. he looked so pretty, you thought. There was that slight smile on his face even in sleep. And... oh god he was bucking his hips up toward noting, trying to search for some sort of friction. Your stomach did a kicking routine and, before you knew it your underwear was sticking to our drenched core. Shit, you nearly moaned out, stopping yourself before you got loud enough to wake him. He was having a sex dream... If you couldn't believe it now, then the way he whined out your name made it feel even more real to you. oh shit, it was almost like you couldn't wrap your head around that concept. That he was not only having an apparently very vivid sex dream, but that very vivid sex dream had you in the center of it.

You shook your head and him, before sighing and making your way back to your room. That was when you heard him stirring. You stopped dead in your tracks, cursing to yourself. It seemed like he was still half asleep when get let out a final groan of ecstasy. “Mmmf!” He funnily shot up to look at who was there. And was met with you slowly turning around to meet his eyes. You knew you couldn’t just tell him it was a dream and force hint or go back to bed. Neither of you could. Definitely not with a very prominent tent you could see even through the blanket that he was holding over his chest like he was naked and caught changing.

Which, in all honesty wasn’t that differ t with what you actually caught him with. But this time he had a shirt on… and pj pants… and you didn’t think pjs could ever look that good on someone until now. It was just a regular white tee shirt, a little (very nicely) disfigured and tousled looking, and well ya know pj bottoms. But god, did you wanna take them off. Make the collar of that shirt damp from you sucking at the spot on his neck right about where the white threads stared.

He sunk deeper into the covers he had pulled to his hips when he sat up, realizing what you had walked in on. He leaned forward awkwardly in a miserably failing attempt to hide the ahem problem he was having. You clenched and unclenched your fists in an attempt to stay calm. "Hey!" He said way too happily for the time of night it was and for what had just happened. Cool, you thought, so this is what he wants to do: pretend he wasn't just moaning out my name like he was about to cum?

You gave the man a little wave. "Hey." You started, trying to maintain eye contact, "Sorry I just-- uh" Your stupid eyes just had to choose that moment right then to dart right back down to tent underneath thin blanket. He noticed it too, and bashfully went back to hunching over awkwardly. Why did he have to relax? Doesn't he realize that-- "I though you were having a nightmare. Ya know... you've been telling me... ya know." You rambled.

If it was even possible, he looked even more embarrassed now then before. Before, it was like an, oh shit my fly is unzipped thing. Now, it was like, Oh shit I don't have any pants on thing. He folded his arms and stuck his palms in his armpits, his thumbs tapping wildly at his collarbone where they rested. A sure sign of being nervous of how and what he'd say next. "Oh yeah, that..." He trailed off, as if just remembering. It sounded to you like somebody shouldn't even be "just remembering" now that they've been having bad dreams for a while.

You tried to play it off in your own mind, thinking that maybe he was just embarred by you bringing them up in a situation like this. But you knew him, and this wasn't one of those situations. You couldn't bare to keep lying to yourself about him like that anyways. So why was he acting like he just remembered that? It was almost like... like he was lying. You know that thing people do when they just remember a lie they made up a while ago and try to pass it off like it was totally real? Yeah, that.

So that meant... oh. OH! All this time it hadn't been nightmares. How could you not realize that? Now that you were thinking about it, it kinda was pretty obvious. Maybe it was just what you had wished to believe. NO matter if he did a really bad job at hiding it or not, you knew Everything now. And you also knew that he was looking at your lips currently. His eyes flickering between them and your eyes. Almost like. Like he was asking for permission to kiss you. You smirked at him. Finally he thought. "Where you dreaming bout me again?" You asked

He looked away. And I’m an attempt to hide him doing that he then rolled his eyes. Gosh even him rolling his eyes looked hot. You really needed to stop. “Again?” He scoffed. You took another step forward towards you sofa. “So, you’re still not denying that you were dreaming about me. At least this once.” You knew inside that him only dreaming about you this one little time wasn’t true. If it had been there would’ve been a way bigger chance you’d just leave it alone. Then promptly leave the room. But the that wasn’t the case now was it?

“well I’m not—“ he tried to explain. You shut him up with crossing your arms and wetting your lips. You gave him the look. Like bitch you better not play with me. He pressed his lips together and looked up at you. Finley you nearly whispered. He looked too pretty to be hidden away under a blanket of shame. “Listen,” he started before taking a large breath. Apparently preparing to either rap or deliver a sermon. “Yes. This isn’t the fist one. And only saying that because I know you know. I’ve been trying to hide it but—“ “Kevin I-“ you tried to interrupt him. Talk some sense into the poor guy. But eh only held up his hand at you.

“I’m just so sorry, ok! I know I know. It’s sounds gross. I-I sound gross! For thinking of you that way when we’re only friends and you know it’s weird for me, your friend to be thinking of you that way. Much more dreaming! I understand if you hate me now or you need space. Until I figure… whatever this is out. Or just until whenever you need. Haha it’s uh all up to you really. I get why you would be disappointed in me. I mean, I’m disappointed in me. Cause—“ you grabbed his jaw to shut him up. He blinked a few times, maybe to clear his head like you had done the moment you waked into this situation.

You weighed your options for the hundredth time. You wanted this. Him. And now that you knew he wanted you in the same way you couldn't stop thinking about that that would be like. To have him, for him to have you. Tangled together in a buddle of pure bliss and need, and satisfaction. It'd feel like a breath of fresh air, you thought. You wanted that. Needed it. Both of you did. And at that exact moment, he offered you a small smile, one that meant the world to you. His eyes crinkled beautifully as his lips curled upwards.

He relaxed in your hold. You decided tom bring him a little closer to your lips. And at the joy you saw in his eyes when you did so, you brought him closer still. It was a slow and steady progression. One that, in how much silence you too were in might have been awkward for anyone else. But not you too. It might've taken a couple tentative minutes, but that was how the two of you were.

And then finally, without another moments hesitation, his lips were on yours. And it really did feel like a breath of fresh air to have him there. Moving against you in perfect sync. His back was craned towards you just like his neck, his hand pressed hard into the sofa cushion. Enough to make an intent probably till morning. You shuddered that the thought-- that him and pieces of him would be there till morning. But finally, you decided to relive him of his oddly craned back. You didn't want it aching in the morning. At least that's what you told yourself. You placed a knee on the edge of the sofa cushion. Maybe this was a far as him or you wanted to go, and that would be fine. You just wanted to test if this was going to be the boundary.

But he smiled even more so into the kiss as his other palm came up to hold your face. Much to your delight he even leaned back a little. Though his back wasn't quite hitting the back of the cushion. That was where you'd really like to have him. You were between his legs, the blanket getting farther and farther away from either of yours skin. He let out the first whimper of the night when you got a little closer, his back hitting those cushions with a thud and bouncing off them. His lips formed into a line as he pressed them together, eyes widened and lust blown instead of crinkled now. You leaned in again, cherishing the freeing feeling of his lips. Only for him to chuckle as you got closer. You smiled in return. You scooted close enough to feel his bulge beneath your fingertips. He shuddered at the touch.

You ran your hands through his soft hair, messing it up even more than it already was. He pants when he pulls away. For a moment he just took in your features, no worries about what it'd seem like if he stared at you a second too long. At least not for now. "Care to help me out?" He asked, slapping his hands to his sides. Where was this coming from? You wondered. Being forehead like that wasn't really his forte. And it seemed like he realized how out of character that was for him too. But none the less you still answered him by grabbing both his wrists and placed them on your sides. A silent invitation that you wanted him to "help you out" too.

He immediately set to work, rubbing up and down your sides. It felt so warm and comforting. Having his hands run up and down you. He was still tentative not to get any further down your hips. But you had placed his palms there for a reason. You needed him to touch you. You leaned down to kiss him, grabbing both sides of his face. The kiss felt more needy now. If that was even possible. Like both of you were more urgent to lay the other down.

And lay him down you did. This felt so right with you on top of him. Your bodies pressed together comfortably. You bit down on his bottom lip and he whined again. This time louder, higher in pitch. Fuck you really wanted to hear that again. He brakes the kiss again, his thumbs drawing circles on your tummy. He moistens his lips before speaking, "But really, I'd hate for this to make it weird between us. You mean the world to me. I dunno what I'd do without you. Especially if I knew I drew you away." He nervously coughs and swallows at his own words, probably not expecting for them to be too serious and heavy at a time like this. You were taken aback for a moment, he was just as shocked as you were.

"It'll only be 'weird' if we make it that way, hm? And I'm pretty sure neither of us are feeling anything close to weird right now." You assure him, glancing down at that tent in his pants. He smiles to himself an ducks his head downward to your neck, landing a kiss on it's side. You breathed out a sigh of pleasure at the feeling. Warm lips touching heated skin. "Besides, I could never feel any other way but happiness with you." You added. At that moment he was still close to your neck. But when you said that he glanced up at you before thrusting his head to meet your lips again in an almost chaste kiss. "Yeah, I could say the same about you." He mumbled against your lips. "And you're sure you don't hat me for having those... dreams?" He said tentatively. You kiss him and he smiles at you. "Fuck no. I love em." You said before the both of you dove right back in. You palmed him as he breathed out a moan at eh contact.

You smirked to yourself, feeling proud you could make him feel this way. He practically sounded relieved. "Ah! I-I wanna make you feel good too." He said, stuttering because of the pleasure he was finally getting. Precum was already probably starting to pearl at his tip. At his words you started to grind against his thigh. He flexed it for you and jerked it upwards in time with your movements. "Oh, my-- Fuck!" You moaned, as quietly as you could. God it really did feel good. Better than you'd expected. You taking the lead here and grinding on him what just what he both of you needed. For one, his thigh bone was hitting your clit just right for you to feel like lolling your head back and screaming his name.

You ran your fingers down is chest, feeling of him with one hand. The other was pulling at the strands at the back of his neck. And lost in the feeling of the moment, his mind only filling with the thought that you were feeling good. Sure, you were currently palming him and he never wanted you to stop. But him (even if that part of him was his thigh.) He was making you feel good. He didn't realize how much that thought effected him until he felt his high coming. He started bucking up into your palm, barely unable to think straight and stop the sighs and breathy whines spilling from his mouth. Which for some reason could not stay all the way closed by the way. He really didn't want to come now. He couldn't, not with the whole night ahead of you too.

And it'd also be kinda embarrassing if he came from you palming him that quickly anyways. But goddam the sounds you were making. Right in his ear too. He had to act now or he'd never stop himself. You barely noticed how long you had been grinding on him while palming him still until Kevin slowed your movements. He grasped your hand as well. "No no no," He protested. "I don't want to cum yet." You stopped, unsure of what to do next. He flipped the too of you over so you where now under him. He swallowed you lips whole. Engulfing them in his own in a clash of the heat coming from both of you. You tugged at the bottom of his shirt, signaling that you wanted it off and out of the way. But he just couldn’t seem to tear himself away from you mouth. Probably smiling into the kiss way more than someone who was currently kissing their friend “just cause they’re horny” should be. You could tell he was trying to maintain being cool, calm, and collected. But by the way he was fumbling over the piece of cloth he was trying to get past his shoulders. (And by the way he was awkwardly trying to avoid his boner) He wasn't doing the best job at hiding what he was really feeling.

He didn't even think to move the shirt away from the two of you on the sofa, absent-mindedly placing it beside him as he leaned down towards you again. Thinking that now that he got a taste of you, he'd never be able to stop. And his enthusiasm showed that too. The kiss might've been sloppy, but neither of you wanted to pull away for air because of just how good and right it all felt. You run your hands over every part of his torso, wanting to memorize it. All the while he presses open mouthed kisses on your neck. He groaned at the felling of your warm hands on his skin. The sound reverberating through you and going straight to your core.

He finally pulls himself away from your wonderful lips. You're a little confused when he gets up suddenly and makes his way down your body. He puts in fingers in the waistband of your pants. "Can I... can I eat you out?" He asks. And did he really think you'd say no? How the fuck could you ever refuse that? Not like you've been having dreams about him snaking his togue down your folds and sucking on your clit. So he gently pulls your pants down like he was afraid he'd mess up an act so trivial as that. He places them by his shirt that was somehow kicked onto the floor at some point in the last few minutes. You can see him swallow thickly when you help him shimmy out of your underwear. He mumbled an "oh shit." In what nearly sounded like a moan coming from him like that. And it only made you wetter. He licks his lips in a way that almost made it seem like he was teasing you.

He licks a long stripe up you, landing at your clit and staying there for a second. Just testing the waters for now, but it was a whole new type of ecstasy for you. You let out a strangled moan and he dives in at the sound. With his newfound eagerness (or maybe now he just wasn't holding back his want for you) He latches his mouth into your clit like a man starved of water and sucks. His lips wrapped around you and his ears listening to what pace made you moan the loudest. He whines into you in return, sending a shock wave of pleasure through you and up your veins. Your hands find their way to his shoulders again, rubbing small circles with your thumbs on his back. "Shit, shit, shit" you chant. And he's trying. Trying so damn hard to stop himself from coming apart at the seams and turning into a mess when you start bucking your hips into his face. He takes a second to move away from you.

"This okay?" He asks, looking up at your wit hooded eyes clouded with even more lust, and want, and pure need than before. Your hands went to his hair to move him closer to your pussy. "God yes." You pant, "Why'd you stop?" It sounded like a plea. And Kevin wasn't about to refuse you. It's just, you knew this but... he'd only done this once before .And he didn't even think he was that good at it then. What about now? Years later. And he knew what worked for one person probably wouldn't work for the other. So if he was being honest, he had no idea what he was doing. He tried to remember what you told him you liked a while ago. What you had talked about with him. But his mind was so overwhelmed with the taste pf you, the scent of you, that he was here, with you, doing this, the sound of your moans for him, and just plain old making sure he doesn't embarrass himself and 1) not make you feel good. And 2) cum in his pants or make a weird sound that turns you off. So after licking another stripe up you, sticking to what he knows, he pulled away form you again. You, thinking that he wants to kiss you, don't think much of it. Until he speaks.

His hands go to your his and rest there, rubbing your skin. "Can you guide me?" He asks. You nearly let you a pleasured sigh at the thought. Now you really wish he'd kiss you. "Thought you'd never ask." So you knotted your fingers in his hair again and guided him back down to your dripping pussy. He let out a breathy moan at the sensation of your fingers curled in his hair, firmly planted at the roots, almost feeling like you were grounding him. He can't help it anymore, his hips start to jolt an buck into the sofa cushion. The friction he feels is all too much and not enough all at once. He wants more. More more more of you. And he can't seem to stop. But really, he probably should. He buries his face in you slowly, his nose hitting your clit. You groan. He goes back up to it and plants a little kiss there, making you repeat the sound. Then... he's lost on what to do again. "A little down." You step in. He moved from your clit to your hole and dips his pretty wet tongue into you. That's when you just about lost it. "Oh Fuck!" He wiggles it around inside of you, stretching you out with just his tongue beautifully.

"That-- keep doing that." You pant. trying hard to keep yourself from stuttering. More spit gets mixed with your juices and it becomes messier, more frantic as his lips buck faster and start rolling into the cushion. The fabric of his underwear beginning to grow a wet patch where his cock was confined. "Flatten your tongue." You say, your eyes never leaving his as he glances up at you. You guide him up to your clit again and he does just as he was instructed. "Good boy." You mumble out, your fingers ghosting over his shoulders. You start bucking into his face again, trying your hardest not to suffocate him. You tug on his hair to bring him closer to you. And he whines out. The sound again going straight to your core. Shit you really were close, you could practically feel yourself dripping onto his tongue. He grips your hips a little tighter. His fingers sneaking downwards towards your tights. His thrusts into the edge of your sofa become deeper and more frantic and he can't hold back any longer. He literally cannot.

After trying to concentrate on you more than his need to release. (Bad idea, now all he can think about is how you taste.) He licks, and swirls his tongue the way he came to realize you liked it after trial and "error" that felt more like teasing all around just where you needed him most for you. You could feel how much he was really paying attention to how loud you moaned and how much you squirmed under him when he did something a little different; Your hands grasped his hair a little tighter as he started fucking you with that delicious tongue of his. That's when, with a final buck of his hips into your sofa he spilled in his pants with a series of whines, never once pulling his mouth away from you.

The vibrations and those lovely sounds he was making was sending you over the edge. With his face burred in your cunt, you couldn't help but look down at him. And to your surprise he was already looking deep into your eyes this whole time. You couldn't help but wonder if he was staring at that way when he was coming. And god, the thought of him coming in his pants untouched from just him licking you. It did something to your already nearly coming state. A second later and you were coming apart just as desperately as he was. He made sure to lap up every bit of release you so lovingly spilled out for him. He was still grinding down onto your sofa cushions, not really caring about that dull ach that was starting to form within him. He's just still too hard to think about anything else than feeling relief again. And you're still bucking up into his face, no mater how breathless you are from his mouth.

You start getting aroused again from his mouth still being on you. "K-kiss, please." Is the first word uttered between the two of you after starting to come down from your highs. Kevin says it, you comply. He shoots up towards you and this time you're the one who is swallowing his lips whole with a kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue. He couldn't help but breath out a little whine into you. It's more of a sigh of relief more than anything, though. All breathy, and stupidly hot sounding. Too good not to try and get out of him again.

He's closer to you know. His crotch on your thigh. Definitely in a much better position, you think. And that's when an idea pops into your head. You smirk into his lips and roll your hips into him. He freezes, his lips stoping thier movements on yours for a moment. He doesn't know how he should respond to this. Should he return the gesture? Should he just keep kissing you and not do anytging about it? Do you wanna go again cause fuck he would not in the slightest be opposed to that. He slowly pulls his kiss blown, wet, and puffy lips away from you. You can't help but think that you're mezmerized by the taste, the feeling, of him him him. "Can I--" He can barely get the words out of his mouth, his mind too clouded by pure lust for you. And maybe just a little bit of nervousness of what you're going to say. Luckily, you know what he was aiming for. "Yes! Fuck, god please yes." You say quickly.

At that moment, just like before. All you want is him. Near you, on you, all over you it really doesn't matter. And by the look in his eyes and the way he feverishly kisses you after you stop talking he might even want it more than you if that was even possible. Not a minute later he grinds into you, unable to stop himself, really. You just feel so good. Any of you and all of you. Even if it was "just your thigh." Though it wasn't "just" anything to him. far from it. Any part of you he could have. Whatever part of yourself you'd let him partake felt wonderful to him. He starts panting again as you chase his thigh and grind up against him. You let out a throaty groan. And wow, before then he didn't think someone's thigh could fee so nice. So satisfying to all his senses and more. His sweat pants clad legs. Oh god you never thought that someone’s thigh could feel so good to you. He had it positioned just right, no doubt on purpose. So that whenever either of you two moved his right bone that would wonderfully flex would rub up against your clit deliciously. In a way that made you wanna suck and bite on his lips. And that made you realize that he still has his pants on. And that now, you really wanted to see him. All of him. So only one of you having your pants off simply won't do. You snuck your hand down to his bulge just like before.

"it feels really ah! good when y-you do that." He sighed out when your hand made contact with his length. He bucked into your hand then looked at you with sorry eyes. He had a feeling he knew you were just trying to remove his pants. And he wouldn’t be supposed to that. You’d be equal. Skin on skin. And you know not trying to give him a hand job. But he really couldn’t help himself.

Believe me, he wanted to. He really wanted to. But you, both of you, here, like together. It was too much to handle. He realizes he probably sounds really needy. But he also realizes that you don't seem to mind. If anything, it kinda looks like you enjoy him being like this for you. He let the final bit of nervousness that bubbled up out of him and into his mind slip away from his mind as you slipped off his pants. You take a final glance at him before you, under you. Asking for permission by toying with the elastic of his boxers. He nods his head. "Mmhm. Yes... Please." He breathed. You slip your fingers expertly inside just like you had so easily pulled off his pants. Your fingers come in contact with his rock hard dick and all thoughts leaves his mind. He doesn't know what to do. He wants to throw his head back and let the moan fly past his lips about just how good it all feels with you on top of him like this. He also really wants to lean forward towards you and suck on your neck or your chest, or just something to show you how much he likes what you're doing.

He settles for a groan into your skin.

You grind down on him, his thigh providing a perfect sensation to bring you closer to your high. It seems to hit you just right. And if you had been wearing your underwear and shorts still you would've long soaked through them. It was like him and body was practically made for you. "You know you can touch me too, right?" You asked him, sounding a little more breathless than you wanted to from all those wonderful sensations he was giving you. Looking down at the man, you saw he was halfway unraveled under you. At the invitation his hands shoot up to your hips and run up and down your sides, taking a second to respond cause of how delicious your hand felt wrapped around him tightly like it was. "Oh, uh yeah-- mm! sorry." He broke his sentence when your thumb brushed past his tip. That made him want to give you more too. You know, make you feel the same wonderful way you were making him?

He flexed his thigh again and bucked it up into you to meet the next roll of your hips halfway. "Oh, god-- Kevin!" You grunted. "S-top, stop teasing." He whimpered at your words. He felt good. Well, more than good knowing that he made you feel that way. No longer was he focused on both of you. Now it was just all you and how he could bring you to the edge along with him. Both of you are panting, the skin of your legs sticking together and your torso feeling just as hot at your core as his warm lovely hands feel around you. In a spur of the moment decision, he holds your hips, steadies them, and helps you grind on his thigh. You let out a long breathy sigh of relief at the feeling he's made for you. This angle makes the stimulation a little harder, and boy does it make you go into overdrive. Your hand picks up speed stroking him as he helps you get off on him, loving and relishing the thought himself.

It feels like heaven in a moment this way. All of your slick is pooling onto him. But he doesn't mind, it makes him wanna cum right now actually. Your heat starts pulsating on him a few seconds later and neither of you could take it anymore. IT was the feeling of his bare warm thigh rubbing up against your bare heat as it feels like he's almost torturing your clit with how good it feels. The both of you came together. Him with a high pitched strangled moan and you with something equally as desperate. He whines deliciously with his face buried into your neck. Noting else on either of your minds except each other. Your fingers become sticky with his release to match the skin of his thigh. You're left panting and wreathing as you fall on top of him, his chin landing on top your head and planting a kiss there a second later. You're still clenching around noting as he wraps his arms around your back.

Your hand releases him and you slide yourself off his thigh. He lets out a hiss because of how sensitive he is and because of the loss of the warm comforting contract of your palm. He faces you as you lay there beautiful next to him. You're all sweaty and tired from the lovely whirlwind you took each other on, but to him you couldn't have looked more amazing as your panting faded away in sync. "Sorry I made a mess on your hand." He said into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning over your skin and kiss nose rubbing up against you. You perked up at that, almost having forgotten about it before. You looked down at your hand at your side. "Oh yeah... that." You chuckled, bringing your fingers to your mouth as you made eye contact with him. He seemed to realize what you were about to do and grabbed your wrist the minute it was close enough to his reach.

You watched him as he guided them to your mouth and dipped them in ever so gently that the touch would barely be viewed as anything sexual. He looked at your in awe as you sucked on your own fingers. Once they were out of your mouth he did the same with his own, savoring the taste of your arousal on his tongue the same way you had done with his. It brought him back to not long ago when he was licking you to your first orgasm. And he never wanted to stop tasting you, and it. "God, y/n." He starts, throwing his head back onto the pillow he had slept on earlier you both were cuddled up on, "You taste so good." You enveloped his lips in a kiss, your mouths moving in perfect sync just as before. Everything you both felt poured into one act seemingly as simple as that. You both eventually (sadly) had to brake apart. You tucked the hair that fell into Kevin's face up and behind his ear, your fingers lingering there for a moment. He popped up into a sitting position.

"I'll go get a cloth for the uh... mess." HE gestured towards his leg and the rest of his release on your hand as he was searching for his pants underneath the messy blanket. He slipped them on, not bothering with his shirt, not like you minded one bit. He really was a sight to see. A second later you heard the water running in your bathroom and pulled yourself off the sofa too. Your feet hit the cold floor with a chill, already missing his warmth. You shimmed on your underwear and headed to where Kevin was found, standing in front of your sink shutting off the water. You leaned on the doorframe and watched him peel down his pants and wipe of the remnants of your slick off his thigh. You didn't think about much while you were posted there, just breathing lightly and freely. Just like you always felt you could around him. Once he was done and he had cleaned off your hand (he insisted he do it.)

You kissed him dearly. Neither of you really want to let go or think about what any of this would mean for both of you. Just that it felt really good and really right. You pulled him down to you more, seated on your toilet. His hands found their places on either side of you. A feeling safe rather than caged in. He pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. "We've got all night... Or forever to do whatever you want. Whichever one works." He smiles

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thatsgoodsquishy0 · 7 months

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Pairing: F!Reader x Ranger!Sam Coe Rating: M+ Bio: Set during Sam’s younger years working as a Freestar Ranger alongside his wife, Lillian Hart. Whether circumstance, or impossible luck, you're given a second chance at life, ultimately growing close to The Coes. You take a shine to Cora, but the family dynamic is something else entirely, albeit a little overwhelming, as you realize the toll Lillian's absence has taken on the family, but more specifically, her husband. Sam Coe is witty, charming, and ambitious; a man who knows what he wants and stops at nothing to reach his goals, but when his wife seems to prioritize her career over her family, it's hard not to notice the strain growing inside him. Your friendship may be just the support Sam needs, even if the temptations for something more linger, and when your past threatens your future, where will your morals lie? Will you end up back where you started? Chemistry is a cruel mistress chapter i: Bound cross-posted to AO3 credit of course to the lovely @seraaphiel for keeping the Ranger!Sam spirit alive & @cafekitsune for the divider. special thanks to @fangbangerghoul and @bearlytolerant for literally hyping me up every day to write this fic. your endless support and love inspire me more than you know. and THANK YOU to the readers who've enjoyed this journey so far!! <3

i listened to this song from the Red Dead Redemption II soundtrack pretty much on repeat while writing. it fits the vibe of the chapter, and if you'd like a little extra immersion, feel free to play it whilst reading.

ii. MAN OVERBOARD

You stood beneath the torrent of water, your skin gently scalding as you waited for your body to adjust to the temperature. When it did, you sighed and stared at the shower wall, gaze blank. Your hair felt heavy, weighed down by the stream and caked with blood that was slowly breaking away. You looked down at your feet. Grime and gore snaked through the grout of the tile floor, slipping into the holes of the drain, gurgling as steam enveloped the shower.

Minutes passed. You waited for the water to run clear. Streaks of diluted red flowed down your chest, past your stomach, and in between your legs, reaching the bottom. You lifted your hands, eyes glaring at the bracelets of purple and black wrapped around your wrists. You turned your palms towards the ceiling assessing the rest of your injury, only to find your hands trembling; inflamed with anger. A scream simmered in your throat, ready to boil over. Whether the heat of the water or justified wrath seething within, your face reddened and nostrils flared. Your lips curled as you parted them, ready, but then, you drew a steady breath instead; a warning to yourself to behave, be civil, because this was not your space.

You were a trespasser.

You quickly grabbed for the nearest shampoo bottle and squeezed a handful into your palm, lathered it up, then rocked your hands back and forth against your scalp. Frothy bubbles of red poured down and settled between your toes. You swiped your foot towards the drain, flicking away the bubbles, splashing your soles against the floor. You shivered as the water devolved to luke-warm, and frantically, you scrubbed your skull raw. You closed your eyes. Rinsed. Grabbed another handful of shampoo. Lathered. Scrubbed. Rinsed.

By the time you finished, you felt as though the nerves in your wrist might snap. Your vision blurred by a mix of water and tears, your legs buckled as if they were jelly. You slid back against the wall and curled your legs into your chest as you rested your forehead against the fresh bruises on your kneecaps. Underneath the water with your lips locked, you allowed yourself to cry, tears streaming into the rushing cool. If no one heard you, it would be okay.

You were owed this, and with time, vengeance against him would owe you, too.

Sam

The mission was straight and narrow, albeit improvised, but when it came to the badge, Sam was no stranger to unscripted moments. Hell, he enjoyed spontaneity most of the time, but when an innocent’s life entered the picture, there were strict rules he followed – a code to adhere to; be on the same page. Disagreement was a form of arguing, and arguments led to distractions, and distractions got you killed. Sam lounged back in his chair, his feet propped on the desk and arms crossed against his chest as he waited for Lillian to finish her debriefing with the Marshal. He knew this was coming, still he bit the inside of his cheek. He had every right to that conversation, yet she kept him on the sidelines, as if he were a witness, but maybe it was best that way. Lillian’s memory was exceptional and she’d have a thoroughly combed-through report for Marshal Blake, all the while Sam brushed past details he thought were trivial, like what time the ship was ambushed.

But there was nothing in that report about Sam recognizing the rescued woman.

Weeks ago, he was sitting at the bar nursing his second thumbs worth of whiskey, his attempt at unwinding from the day proving idle as he drank. His hat was warm against his head, the beginning thrums of a migraine settling in. He shut his eyes for a moment and pinched the bridge of his nose. Cora was just getting over a fever, which meant she’d spent more than enough time with Jacob.

He counted — four days. Four days without her. He was stir-crazy, his father’s intuition scratching at his bones as every waking thought flashed to the Coe Estate, little Cora putzing around and Jacob’s manipulative eyes beaming upon her as he planned her entire future. Bet that just got his bastard heart beating with pride thinking she’d carry on the legacy someday -- the dreaded Coe legacy, at least, the one Jacob twisted to fit into his narrative.

Sam’s lips grimaced against the rim of his glass as he took a sip.

His absence was justified (warranted, at least, by his leaders), but one day without his daughter was tough enough. Four days was agony, and Lillian wasn’t much comfort considering the only conversations they seemed to share were Ranger-related.

The Rangers could wipe out every single drug lord in the Settled Systems and Sam still wouldn’t sleep a wink – not without twinges of guilt stabbing him through the night.

He signaled for a third glass of amber liquid, and for a fleeting second imagined the opportunities of fatherhood and marriage away from the Freestar Rangers.

As soon as his drink manifested in front of him, he tabled the thought, thanked the bartender, then lifted the edge of the glass to his lips. He took a burning swig, familiar heat landing in his stomach as he wiped his mouth, and then, he saw her; face plastered on the tv screen, a lifted curve to her lips and a gleaming kindness in her eye — a complete departure from the woman Sam would later carry out of a fried spaceship filled with dead bodies. The camera focused on a plaque sandwiched between her and another adult, some official maybe, outside a storefront.

… but which store was it again?

Sam shook off his recollection, his focus turning to Lillian’s chestnut brown ponytail as it swung to the side as she spoke. Her hip jutted out just a tad; one of the few mannerisms Sam picked up on over the years. His gaze lingered with anticipation, tracing modestly all the ways the ranger’s outfit hugged her body. Some days, he couldn’t believe they were a young married couple fighting the good fight, and other days, it was suspicious; this future he never conceived for himself, laid out by a woman who shared his last name, and was the mother of his child.

Sam guessed she was wrapping up her conversation; the body cue being a slight turn away from the other Ranger, as if her mind were there, but her body was ready to leave. She caught his stare, but offered little more than a cocked eyebrow and neutral gaze. Sam gifted a smile, teeth and all, to his wife as she traveled closer.

“Feet down,” Lillian said, her southern drawl popping out.

“Yes, ma’am.” Sam uncrossed his arms as he sat upright in his chair, adjusted his hat. “So, what’d the Marshal have to say?”

“You’re gonna love this. Turns out that ship we ambushed? Stolen. Reported weeks ago. We’ll have to notify the owner of its condition and locale, which unfortunately means more paperwork on our end.”

“I don’t think they’re gonna want it once we tell’em, well, whatever it is we’re gonna tell’em.”

“That won’t be our problem. Marshal said if that woman was found on that ship alive, chances are she’s involved.”

“You don’t think, wrong place, wrong time? Sort of thing?”

Lillian shook her head. “I get the sick feeling they were keeping her for something.”

“Which means there was some serious illegal shit happenin’ on that ship,” Sam stated, his mind recalling what lined the path to the cockpit; dead bodies, ecliptics, … cases of harvested organs.

His stomach churned.

Lillian grabbed a slate from her pocket, pushed a few buttons, then brought the screen closer to Sam.“These were the ship’s last inputted coordinates. I had them downloaded before we left. Once we crack this, we’ll know where they were headed. Hopefully that, plus any information this woman is willing to spill, should give us enough of a lead.”

“You really went the extra mile, Mrs. Coe.” He stood from his chair, closing the distance between them. He traced the outline of her lips, his eyes noting the divot on the top in the middle. He could kiss her now, hell, he wanted to, if not for the active duty reminder on her chest.

“Oh, Sam. I’m just doing my job.”

“And you do it so well,” he replied.

Her smile beamed, as if that was her favorite compliment to hear from him. Sam leaned his palms against the desk, and dropped his head forward, stretching out his neck. “Should I grab us some Terrabrew?” A longing in his heart guided him closer, practically breathing her own air as the gravel in his voice barely whispered. “Could be a long night.”

“I’m alright, thanks.” She grabbed his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Shouldn’t be a long night if she cooperates,” Lillian said.

Sam’s hands itched to grab her waist, but his restraint knew better. “And if she doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have to use oppressive measures.”

He pressed his lips together immediately, words backpedaling against his tongue.“I — um, I thought we weren’t gonna go that route. She’s been through enough, don’t you think?”

“That was before she became a possible suspect, Sam. Don’t go soft on me now.”

“Ain’t going soft on you, but we gotta look at it differently. If we go in there yelling and screaming at her, she’s gonna clam up, then we’ll absolutely get that long night.”

Lillian paused, grazing over his innuendo as she pursed her lip. “If that’s what you think we should do.”

Instinct nudged at Sam’s subconscious. He’d done this before; hell, he was an expert at this point. The only achievable method towards controlling the unattainable was befriending the impossible; becoming a false ally. The Coe name wouldn’t work in this scenario, he knew that, but the skills collected throughout his years as a rebellious adult taught him a thing or two about word play, specifically, verbal disguise — manipulation.

“I mean … if that’s what you think would work,” he double checked. “I just think if we get her to trust us, she’ll lay her cards out on the table.”

Lillian cocked her head, arms crossing in front of her chest as she stifled a frown, leaned back against the desk. “It could work, and it could not. We can’t risk this plan failing. What if she refuses to tell us anything at all?”

“She won’t.”

“Why are you so sure?”

“Cuz even if she was involved, nearly getting shot by ecliptics wasn’t part of the plan. If we didn’t show up when we did, guns ablazin, she’d be dead.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

Twice. She disagreed with him twice, now, which was conventional and always came from a place of concern, but even something as routine as administering a trauma pack to a survivor shouldn’t have been a slippery slope, yet the argument steamed up a train of thought that chugged at his brain. Comparatively, Lillian’s motives centered around the heart of what it meant to be a Ranger; Frontier Justice — protecting and preserving the best interests for the Freestar Collective, but her experience with the seedy Underbelly of the black market was only surface level. Sam didn’t write the book when it came to smuggling, but he definitely had his hand in a few chapters. He recognized his talents, beyond piloting a ship. Lillian was due for that reminder.

Down the hall, the woman waited in the room. Confidence swelled inside his chest. He was capable of making Lillian and The Rangers proud.

He met Lillian’s eyes, speaking directly into them as not only her partner, but her husband as well.

“Let me talk to her.”

The Ranger’s interrogation room consisted of three gray walls with an accent brick wall mixed in, a table and a chair, and a single two-way mirror. Sam had listened to many culprits inside the square asylum, a place he’d heard justifications ranging from misunderstandings in a bar to cold-blooded murder. Innocent until proven guilty was an old earth law, but credibility lurked within the ancient rule still, even if the Ranger’s didn’t out rightly practice it. He’d give this woman the benefit of the doubt until his morals persuaded him she was liable enough for arrest.

But that’s if he could get her to speak.

Lillian’s focal point consisted on cracking the coordinates for the ship’s final landing, as well as finding the owner of the stolen vessel. Sam knew she preferred to have her hands full rather than empty, sometimes taking on more than he thought she could handle, but he respected his wife’s decisions, knowing her ambitions meant new leads for the Rangers to follow, and he snatched up any opportunity to assist where he felt the most helpful.

A rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins as he took a breath, remembering the mission, remembering what Lillian expected, what The Rangers expected. The door creaked mildly as he pushed it open.

If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought he entered the wrong room.

She appeared human; a near perfect clone of the woman he’d caught a glimpse of on TV. The air smelt of dust and earth, but there was a trace smell he could only describe as the planetside scent of a descending waterfall. Sam met her anonymous stare, his own nameless as he sat down and cleared his throat.

“Do you remember me?” He asked.

She nodded her head. A flatness to her eyes.

“How are you, uh, feelin?”

“Fine.”

Was she already lying? How could he be so sure? What answer did he expect to hear the moment the question left his lips? He asked out of courtesy, a spark to break the ice, but it felt out of place, like forced small talk, but fact of the matter was she didn’t weep or fold into a blubbering, nonsensical mess, like he predicted.

Strangely, a sense of reverence led Sam forward.

“Can I get you some water?”

“No.”

Her composure remained as stiff as her back against the wood slats of the chair. Whatever her angle, he had to play his hand logically. Stamp the obvious on the forefront of his brain; she was here for a reason.

“Alright. I’m gonna ask you some questions. I know you’ve been through hell and back, but I need you to answer them honestly, okay? We want whoever did this to you to face severe punishment. I’m sure you want that, too … you do, right?”

In that moment, it was as if the gears stuttered within the mechanism of her brain as her face hid any indication of an answer. Sam waited, greatly anticipating her response, his elbows propped on the table and folded hands inches away from his chin. He tilted his head, and when she still didn’t speak, he verbally poked her. “Ma’am? Do you want justice against the one who did this to you?”

Her face shot up, eyes cold. “I do.”

“Alright then,” he began, leaning forward, his hands dropping onto the table. “We’ll start from the beginning, ease ya into it. What do you remember before the events of last night?”

Her hardened persistence remained, but he noticed the small lax in her shoulders as she took a breath. Her eyes closed. “I was at my friend’s apartment, just needed a box of my things that I’d forgotten,” she recalled, opening her eyes, her hues connecting to Sam’s. “I couldn’t just leave it there, but I thought about it. I thought about turning around and going back home, but I didn’t.”

“Must have been important to you — whatever was in that box.”

“I – I like to collect old Earth books. Sinclair’s pays me to refurbish them as best I can, and then I donate extra copies around the Settled Systems.”

Sinclair’s. That was the storefront she posed in front of on TV.

He leaned back against his chair, his cowboy hat tipped gently, shadowing his forehead under luminescent ceiling lights. “My daughter? Loves books. She just goes crazy for them. Of course, she can’t read them yet, but when I read to her, she giggles her little head off.” He offered a lightness in the room, sharing something normal, something friendly, something … definite, as the real questions simmered on the tip of his tongue. “Did you ever get your books back?”

“No.”

Sam frowned. “I imagine those books took some hard work to find. When this is over, would you like us to help track them down for you?”

She smirked, thinly, neither coy nor aggressive. “You won’t find them. They were jettisoned into space. Besides, it’s not that important.” She averted her eyes. “Not anymore, at least.”

He could hear the subdued ache within her words, but he still wasn’t pushing her enough.

“How did you find out your things had been scrapped?”

“I just … sort of assumed.”

“You assumed?” Sam repeated.

“Well, I … I really don’t remember.”

“Could you try?”

“I am trying, sir.”

“It’s Sam. Just Sam is fine.”

“Okay, Sam,” she said. “It’s all just … I don’t know. Blurry.”

“It’s common for foggy gaps in the memory when you’ve gone through … everything you’ve gone through.” He switched directions, like a sly fox cornering his prey. “Those assumptions you felt, they came from somewhere, and you didn’t leave the apartment. Did your friend ever come back?”

“No, I never saw him,” she said, an unusual rise in her vocal tone.

“If you never saw him and you don’t remember what happened last night, then how did you get on that ship?”

“Sir — Sam, I – I don’t know –”

“ – cuz that’s a large chunk of time not accounted for, and suddenly you just, don’t remember?”

“Like you said, brain fog and —”

“No, your selective memory’s not adding up, and I’m willing to bet credits you've been lyin’ for some time now.”

“No I’m not lying it’s just — fuck,” her voice cracked on the swear, her hands quick to cradle her head. Sam stared at the deep purple and blue bruises bound around her wrists. His throat burned. He twisted his focus elsewhere. “Look,” she started, “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, okay? I’m just – so fucked.” Her breaths shortened, raspy and thin as her forehead met the table with a thunk, arms barricading her face.

Inside the small of the room her confession lingered. The air was flexible now, much to Sam’s chagrin, knowing that whatever, or whoever, possessed her to lie to his face still controlled her thoughts even after all the nightmares she endured.

But lying to a Ranger — that was a punishable offense.

Muffled sobs clogged the room. An ache of sympathy lumped in Sam’s throat. He knew his duties, abided by them each time he fastened his badge to the uniform, but something about her confession pulled on his judgment. No moments of clarity graced this woman as she continued to wail, her pain amplified by what Sam could only imagine was the threatening fear of fate now that she’d confessed.

He swallowed. “I, um, uh … well, I appreciate your honesty, and if you could continue to give me that, I’ll … I’ll try and help you as best as I can.” He paused, quickly adding, “I can’t promise anything, but, if you tell me the truth from here on out … you have my word that I will try. Alright?”

She sniffled, her eyes slowly poking out from the crevice of her forearm, cheeks dampened and lips swollen. She considered him with a long pause, and finally, as silence embraced the room again, he watched her sit up. “I don’t know how you could help me.”

“We’re reasonable,” Sam encouraged. “And what we do holds alotta weight, being the law and all.”

“No, you don’t understand. There’s nothing the law can do.”

He stifled a chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”

“I would be, actually, considering — fuck, okay.” She inhaled, long and purposeful, as if bracing herself. “I just don’t know, Sam. I’ve backed myself into a corner here and —”

“Then let me help you get out.” He tugged his body forward, catching uncertainty in her eyes as her gaze shuffled around the room, before finally attaching to his. “What are you scared of?”

“Everything.”

The room seemed to shrink. A sparseness filling Sam’s lungs as he breathed the gravity of her response, and the strain of it all – organs, murders, human smuggling, unbridled fear. His morals never disobeyed him, but the law … the law had its limits.

The Ranger pored over the suspect sitting across from him, and for a moment, her visage morphed to the woman he regarded on TV. The brightness in her eyes, her strong posture, and a smile that stretched across her face. No blood. No bruises. No tears.

“You were on SSNN, weren’t you?”

“Yes .. I was.”

“I saw you. In front of a store – Sinclair’s maybe? You were smilin’ and holding a plaque of some kind.”

Her eyes bulged, almost as if she’d forgotten as she touched her throat. “My citizen’s award.”

Sam nodded, a thin smile of respect growing on his lips. “Tell me how you got that.”

“... I traveled to a LIST settlement that specializes in fostering families affected by the Colony War. On my trip back, a reporter for SSNN took a seat next to me and … I guess the rest speaks for itself.”

“That’s really amazing. I’m sure those families really appreciated your doing that.”

She gave a half smile; humble but acknowledged.

Sam continued, “So, how does someone like you end up mixed in with the garbage of this mess?”

She faintly shrugged, shaking her head. “How do any of us end up in the messes we make?”

“Dumb decisions, not thinking about the consequences, … trusting the wrong people.” Sam observed her cadence, gauging any type of reaction that might reveal the rest of her; a twitch of the lip, an averted gaze, something.

“Was your friend involved?”

Nothing.

“Maybe they bit off more than they could chew? Ran into the wrong, very wrong, crowd? And now you’re payin’ the price because you … you stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, too?”

He caught the clench of her jaw.

“Hell, maybe your friend doesn’t even exist.”

Her face flushed a bright red. “No that’s –”

“Not what? The truth? The truth that’s gonna be your saving grace if you just cooperate with me?”

“Fuck! I’m trying! Okay?!” She slammed her palms on the table, alerting Sam’s trigger finger as his hand flinched to his sidearm, but he didn’t retrieve it as she bellowed. “You think this is easy for me? Huh?! My life is on the line here. Again! And he’ll do much, much worse to me now than whatever those ecliptic fucks were paid to do!”

Sam raised his hands, his voice calm and diffusing. “Easy. Just — take a breath, and tell me about this he.”

She laughed, a frown etched across her face as she ran her fingers through her hair and held her head. “Might as well, right? I’m as good as dead.”

“That ain’t gonna happen,” Sam said.

“You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with death. Try me.”

His challenge left her rigid, or so Sam thought, until she regarded him earnestly, the whites of her eyes growing pale as she spoke. “How can you be so sure I’ll be safe?”

That damn question again; poking and prodding at his abilities as if his intuition was nothing but a fluke, as if his experience was nothing but fictional. For god sakes, he wouldn’t be alive if it were and he wouldn’t be the man he was today without it teaching him, guiding him, encouraging him.

As long as this woman revealed what she knew to Sam and The Rangers, he would do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t suffer at the hands of this — this tormentor. Sam was a man of his word.

“I just am.”

The woman lowered her head, eyes low as if reflecting on what’s to come. Defeated, but not hopeless.

“Now, can you tell me who he is?”

“He is … a plague. A disease. The cause of so much suffering across the Settled Systems, and he is … everywhere.”

Sam cocked his eyebrow. “Who?”

“Медведь. The Bear.”

#oooooh new character on the rise? most definitely #heavy dialogue woohoo!#also where are my blink 182 fans the title is for you #anyways i sincerely hope you enjoy this chapter!#sucks i'm sick but oh well more writing time #starfield fanfiction #coemancer #sam coe x reader #reader x Sam Coe #seriously thank you for the support it pushes me to remember to have fun cuz writing is fun

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