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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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La Petite Mort - La Fin

Summary: We get closure

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language

A/N: Okay so this is the end of the story line for LPM. I will continue to write one shots and headcanons, though don't freak out! Also, there was a drabble I'll link here that happened between Part V and this one.

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part IV LPM Part V Drabble

The drive to Big Bend was like living in a dream. Between the motel stop and the scenic viewpoint stop, you’re beginning to wonder if Lorraine actually wants to get to where you’re going. You know she’s excited about her newfound freedom, and you are too, but a serious conversation needs to be had.

You glance over at her and watch as she holds her hand out the window, catching the wind and then cutting through it like a surfboard. She looks content, grounded. You figure she should be; she just came in the backseat of your truck less than an hour ago. But you still need to make sure she’s happy. That she’s sure she made the right choice. For now, you choose to live in ignorant bliss, enjoy the drive and start the talk later.

The gas gauge catches your attention, riding low over the E.

“We gotta stop for gas, you seen any signs for a pump station?”

She turns toward you, nodding, “Saw a sign a few miles back. There should be a few stations comin up.”

You smile as she reaches for you, taking your right hand and holding it between hers. She scoots closer to you, tracing her fingers up your forearm, giving you goosebumps. Her head rests against the seat, and you can feel her watching you, can see the small smile on her lips through the corner of your eye.

“You’re gonna have to stop doin that, if you ever want to get out of this truck,” you say, your voice hoarse.

She smirks, “I’m not doin anything, I just want to be close to you is all.”

You lift your arm, inviting her to slide into the middle seat. When she does, you let your arm rest across her shoulders, pulling her in close to you. You kiss the top of her head, your eyes not leaving the road. She hums, lets her head rest on your chest.

It’s so easy to find moments like this with her. Small pockets that exist outside of the world, no influence or judgment. Just you two. But it’s also easy for those moments to shatter when reality comes crashing in, loud and screaming.

The gas station is a small one, a family operation from the looks of it. It has two gas pumps that look like they’ve seen better days and a store tucked under the awning. You pull the truck and the trailer under the sunshade and park it.

“I’ll get us the gas, run inside and grab some snacks, will ya?”

Lorraine nods and slides out of the truck, stretching her arms over her head when her feet hit the ground. Your eyes follow her shirt when it rides up, and you laugh to yourself, shaking your head. You pump the gas and watch her walk into the store, her shorts even more distracting now than they were in the truck.

“Oh buddy, you’ve got it bad,” you say to yourself, turning back to the truck.

When the gas pump clicks, you return the hose and make your way into the station to pay. Lorraine has an armful of snacks, and you gesture with your head to the counter. She drops her loot there as you grab a case of beer and carry it over. The tv on the counter is blaring a church sermon, and the attendant is watching it with obligated interest.

You slide the goods over and clear your throat, “Filled up on pump two.”

The woman behind the counter narrows her eyes, making it clear you are inconveniencing her by asking her to do her job. She slides the snacks and beer over with one hand, taking her time. She tells you your total, and you hand a bill over to her, trying not to take note of her attitude toward you.

As you’re packing the snacks into a brown paper bag, two men walk into the store. They’re rugged cowboy types, and it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand straight up. You’d been around their type your whole life, working ranches and rodeos and everything in between. They can be trouble, or they can be extremely cordial. Unfortunately for you, these two are the trouble type.

They make a show of looking you up and down, letting their eyes take their time as they travel over you. Lorraine comes to your side, and both men raise their eyebrows at her. You flex your jaw, trying to find an easy way out of what you already know is going to be an uneasy interaction.

One of the cowboys whistles around the tobacco in his lip, the other laughs.

“Ladies,” he says, “what’s got you so far out in the country?”

You hand Lorraine the bag of food and hoist the case of beer under your arm.

“Work,” you answer, moving toward the door.

The man on the tv starts yelling about sexual deviance. The cowboy with the dip in his mouth leans in the doorframe, blocking your exit. He takes his hat off his head, smirking at you.

“What kind of work?”

You watch him, aware of the other man making his way down one of the aisles to your right. Lorraine inches closer to your side.

“Ranchin,” you say, keeping it as short as possible.

The man is still blocking the door, so you stop, look up at him. He grins down at you, his teeth yellow with flecks of tobacco stuck in his gums.

“I don’t know of any lady ranchers round here,” he says, his eyes leaving you and moving on to Lorraine. “George, you know of any lady ranchers?”

The man at the back of the store laughs, “No I can’t say I do, Nate.”

Nate tilts his head, “So if you’re not ranchin, what’re you doin?”

“Did you miss the trailer with the horses in it on your way in?” Lorraine mumbles, and you close your eyes, inhaling deeply.

Nate laughs, “Okay, spitfire! What’s your name? You ladies look like you could use some company.”

You try to casually step in front of her, hiding her with your body as much as you can. “We need to get goin, you gentlemen have a nice day.”

You step toward the door, but he doesn’t move. You stare each other down for what feels like an eternity, sizing each other up. He’s tall, but he’s skinny. You could scrap with him if you needed to, but his friend would make it nearly impossible for you to win. Your revolver is in the truck, too far to be much use now. Plus, these two have guns of their own; there’s no doubt about that.

The tv on the counter goes quiet, and a woman’s voice breaks the tension.

“Leave them girls alone, Nate, or your momma will tan your hide.” The gas station clerk finally turns herself away from the tv, glaring daggers at Nate.

He evaluates his choices, and his fear of his mother wins out. He leaves the door frame and pushes past you, grumbling as he goes, “I’s just bein friendly, Marge. No need to threaten anyone.”

As soon as he’s out of the way, you hustle out of the store, making sure Lorraine is on your heels. You jump in the truck, and as soon as she’s in, you’re driving off.

“God, I fucking hate Texas,” you growl, your eyes flicking to the side view mirrors to see if anyone followed.

Lorraine sighs, resting her head against the window, “So let’s go. Let’s get out of here for good.”

“We can’t leave your parent's ranch, Raine. They need us there.”

“They really don’t, plus we could visit.”

“Do we tell them about us?”

She bites at her lip, thinking it over, “I think they already know, truth be told. But we probably should tell them.”

“I suppose we should figure out what we are before we go tellin them about it, though.”

The statement is bait, a question for Lorraine to decide on. You think you’re sly, dropping it out there the way you had, but when you turn your head toward her, Lorraine’s expression is amused.

“Is that you, askin what we are then y/n?”

You shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. You can feel your face heating up, embarrassed that she saw through your veiled question.

“I know it’s probably not the best time to ask. You just left your boyfriend yesterday.”

“I haven’t been in love with RJ for a long time. It just took being with you for me to accept it.”

You nod, gulp. You don’t take your eyes off the road.

“I meant what I said to him, you know.” She reaches out, places her hand on your leg.

“What’s that?” You say, your voice cracking.

“I love you.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat, your heart racing. You can feel your hands want to tremble and squeeze the steering wheel tighter.

“Can you give me one hour to get us where we’re goin, set up camp, and say that to me again so I can respond appropriately?”

She giggles, her thumb sweeping over your leg, “Of course.”

Lorraine keeps her hands to herself, for the most part, for the rest of the drive. You think about the conversation to come, the interaction with the cowboys at the gas station, and everything that happened with RJ. It all brews in your mind, mixing and melding into a feeling of uneasiness in your belly. There’s a strong undercurrent of happiness tied in with it, pulling you back to Lorraine every time you freak out.

The camp is isolated, large enough for your truck, trailer, tents, and horses. The daylight is quickly fading, so after the camp is set up, you let CB and Pearl out to wander the grounds. You drag a stack of hay from the trailer for them, but they both beeline to a patch of green grass at the edge of camp.

You busy yourself with getting a fire going, listening to Lorraine hum as she finishes getting the tent set up. Just being out here with her is enough for you, but a small voice in your head is already screaming for more. An apartment that has two toothbrushes in it. Closets with clothes that are mostly not yours. A life intertwined even more than it already is. You know it’s a lot to ask for.

“You’re thinkin' real hard on somethin,” Lorraine says, standing over you.

You turn up and grin at her, “Just how damn good I am at makin' fire.”

She smiles at you, her expression telling you she doesn’t believe that for a minute. She turns away from you and unrolls a blanket next to the now raging fire, and sits delicately. She pats the spot next to her.

“Let’s talk.”

Your stomach flips. You sit in the spot she’d invited you to, feeling a lot like a dog on a leash.

“Right, okay.”

“So, I know it’s not the best look in the world, breaking up with RJ and running off with you,”

“It’s a look I’m growing pretty fond of,” you joke, smiling at her.

She shakes her head, but you can see the smile she’s fighting, “I just want to make sure we’re clear. Getting out of one relationship to jump into another is-“

“So we’re in a relationship?” You interrupt her.

“Oh, um, are we not?” She twists her fingers, anxiety washing over her.

You scramble to make the situation more clear, taking one of her hands in yours.

“I was hoping so, but I wasn’t sure what you wanted. If you need time, I can give you time.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had enough time. I love you, y/n. I think I have for longer than I realized.”

You feel giddy, lightheaded when you finally say, “I love you too, Raine. But I can’t promise an easy life. I can’t promise the suburbs or a family. What kind of life would that be?”

She leans over, taking your face in her hands, “It would be a life with you.”

The fire crackles as she kisses you, soft and sweet, her thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. Her lips are slow, deliberate. She lies back, pulling you with her, your hands planted on either side of her body.

Cicadas and crickets chirp in the dark around you, the air cool and still. The oak trees circling your campsite tower over you, rustling in the occasional breeze. Lorraine’s body envelops you, warm, welcoming. You’ve never felt more at home than you do in her arms. You figure you should thank her for it, now and every day in between.

You sit up, pulling your shirt off, and she follows suit. You unbutton your pants, taking your time, each movement intentional. Having sex with her now feels heavier, in a good way. It carries more meaning than it ever has before.

You’re both naked under the stars when you lean back over her, your hands touching as much skin as they can. You kiss her lips, then move to her jaw, down her neck. She can feel the gravity of the moment, her hands gentle and her breathing soft. Your hands run up her ribs, and your mouth works your way down to her chest. You lick her nipple, bite it gently and suck it into your mouth when she gasps.

She pulls you back to her lips, her legs hooking around your waist and anchoring you in place. Your tongue slides across her lips, and you rock into her, your body applying pressure between her legs. She moans through her nose, her tongue running over yours, her hands around your jaw.

You descend to her neck again, silently coaxing her grip around your waist to loosen. She gets the message and drops her legs from your hips, allowing you to kiss down her chest again. You kiss her stomach, avoiding the ticklish spot on her side that will make her laugh. The skin below her belly button is soft and sensitive; you take some time there teasing her. She lifts her hips, her eyes dark as she looks down at you. Her hand winds its way into your hair, and she bites her lip as you kiss her where she wants it most.

She’s not used to you teasing, and for some reason, of all the times to start, you choose now to begin. You lick softly at her clit, not hard enough to be satisfying, just a ghost of pressure. Enough to make her moan and tighten her grip on your hair. You sink lower and tease at her entrance, tasting her on your tongue. She’s better than anything you’ve ever had, ever will have, and you know it. So you savor it, close your eyes and enjoy yourself.

You turn your head to kiss her thigh, and she whines. You look up at her to find her face full of want, almost to the point of tears.

“Please,” she whispers, making your heart race.

You consider toying with her, but you want it as bad as she does at this point. You run your tongue from the inside of her thigh all the way down to her slick folds. Done with teasing her, you wrap your lips around her clit and suck, earning the most delicious noises of approval from her. You alternate licking and sucking until she’s arching into your mouth, the muscles in the stomach rippling and flexing from the exertion. You lick her with a flat tongue while she cums, making it last even longer until she’s shivering and trying to stop you with her legs around your head.

She sighs, and you slowly kiss your way up her body, taking extra time on the ascent. You forgot about the ticklish spot, and you accidentally make her laugh, which in turn makes your heart feel like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

Your fingers are already inside of her when your mouth meets hers, the gasp of pleasure coming from her making your eyes roll back. You fuck her slow, each movement intentional in its goal. Every stroke playing the chords of her body, never out of tune. She doesn’t let you any lower than her throat, wanting to keep pulling you up to kiss you after she moans your name.

She lasts longer than usual, hanging on to every move you make, her hands all over you. She doesn’t want to be done, you can tell, and it makes you smile.

“You have me for as long as you want me,” you tell her, “I love you.”

Like clockwork, she cums on your fingers, dripping onto the blanket and around your wrist. She holds your head to her chest as she gasps for air, her whole body shaking and rolling. You pull back, wanting to watch her ride her orgasm, see the shape her mouth takes when it’s open like this, the color on her cheeks, the sweat on her brow. When she’s done, she pulls you down, squeezing you around your shoulders. When you try to pull away, she squeezes you tighter, shaking her head.

“You said as long as I want,” her voice is low and quiet, her breathing beginning to shallow.

You chuckle into her chest, kiss her skin, resolve to become part of the earth there if she wishes it.

——

Today is the day. The day you tell the Days about your intentions with Lorraine. A day with the Days, for your Day. You can do this.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your apartment bathroom cramped but comfortable with Lorraine’s things making their migration. As if on cue, her hands slide around your waist, her head ducking under your arm.

“Are you freaking out?” She asks you.

“No,” you lie.

She grins, “Lie.”

You nod, “A big one.”

She looks at you in the mirror, a reassuring smile on her face, “You know you’re going to be fine. They love you. Plus, I’m pretty sure they know.”

Your eyes dart around the mirror, looking for anything to distract you, “I know. I know. I can do this.”

“We can do this,” she says, squeezing your waist.

You sweat through your button-up shirt on the drive over. Lorraine is at ease; she doesn’t seem worried in the slightest. You are terrified. Scared Mr. Day will throw you on your ass and tell you to never come back to his ranch again. Horrified at the thought of Mrs. Day looking disappointed, heartbroken because of you.

They're on the couch in the living room when you get there. Lorraine called ahead to let them know you had something important to talk about so they were prepared. Mrs. Day sets a tall glass of sweet tea in front of you as you sit on the loveseat across from them. You clear your throat, and pull on the collar of your shirt. Lorraine sits close to you, closer than she usually would in front of her parents. If they notice, they don't mention it.

You pick up the glass of sweet tea and lift it, nodding your head at Mrs. Day, “Tha-thank you,” you say and gulp from the cup.

You wince; there's a hefty amount of liquor in the tea. She smiles at you and says, “Thought you might need it.”

You frown at her, confused as to why she would think you'd need liquor at noon. You gulp from the glass again. Mr. Day just watches you, his face impassive.

“So, I’ve asked to talk to you both today because….” you clear your throat again, wipe your sweaty hands on your pants, “well, because I have something important to tell you.”

Mrs. Day nods encouragingly, Mr. Day smiles under his mustache, his eyes soft.

“See, the thing is, I…well…I uhm,”

Lorraine rubs your back, nodding at you. The intimacy in front of her parents is lost on you; you’re too far into your panic to notice.

“I’m in love with your daughter. And I would like for her to live with me.” You say, your words tumbling out of your lips.

Mrs. Day covers her mouth with her hands, but it's not horror she's hiding. It's a laugh. Mr. Day stands, extends his hand. You stand and take it.

“We know, kid. We’re happy for you both, sincerely. Just take care of her.” His gruff voice is as soft as its ever been, his eyes sparkling.

Your mouth drops open, and you fall back onto the couch when he releases your hand. You close your mouth, open it to speak, close it again. Take another gulp of the tea. Lorraine giggles at your side.

“I…how? How?” You stammer.

Mrs. Day drops her hand, her smile still stretching her cheeks, “Oh, honey. You know, when you were about nine, you told me you loved Rainey. You were very serious about it. And you had the same look today. I’ve always assumed it would end up this way.”

“Just took our ray of sunshine a bit longer to come around. Forced me to put up with that boy for years.” Mr. Day grumbles.

Mrs. Day smacks his shoulder with the back of his hand as Lorraine yelps out, “Hey!”

You laugh, fully agreeing with him. Lorraine pulls your arm over her shoulder, and it takes you a moment to ease the tension that automatically shoots up your spine in front of her parents. You relax, smile at the Days.

“I do need you to do me one favor though, y/n, if you could.” Mr. Day says, leaning back on the couch, his leg crossed over his knee.

“Whats that sir?”

“Stop havin sex in my barn. It spooks the animals, and if I nearly walk in on you one more time, I may have to shoot you in the ass.”

Lorraine cringes and hides her face in your arm, and you gulp back a laugh. Mrs. Day lets hers rip, and you can feel Lorraine giggle into your side.

“Yes sir, I promise.” You say, your fingers crossed behind your back.

#lpm #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader #lorraine day x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n

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obsmax · 7 months

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nobody understands the relationship between a girl and her obsession with The Mirror Visitor Quartet (she will never know peace again)

#the mirror visitor #passe miroir #la passe mirroir #mirror visitor #lpm #tmv #it’s me im girlies

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thal-chandra · 5 months

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Also have this kid that only exists in an alternate universe where Celyan and Cyane (@noa-de-cajou's oc) don't stop talking after 2021 and have a weird love-hate relationship. Shiloh is very cute, and loves his mom and nom a lot.

#my art #drawing #art #draw #my oc #ocs #dessin #thal'imagination #doodle #technically shiloh is also noa's oc but eh #pdg #lpm #la peste moderne #ast

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uraniumbunny · 3 months

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Estoy llegando a una edad en la que cuando me viene me agarra una bronca y una paja tipo, loco no te voy a usar nuncaaaaa no te calenté máaaaa dejame en paz ciclo biológico del orrrto! Tal cual con esa frustración de cuando tenía 11 años y me dejaban en cama la menstruación conchuda y la endometriosis hija de mil puta. No iba a tener fetos a esa edadddd con qué necesidad? Eh, eh? decime....

Y hoy día que nunca tuve esa epifanía que las mujeres me prometieron que iba a tener "cuando fuese más grande", y que veo niños pequeños y bebés y, una de dos, no me causa nada o me agarra calambre verlos del rechazo, es como que... flaco... (al útero), dejame en paz. Encima una semana entera me rompés las bolas ahora. Seis días y medio. Y que me tengo que dejar meter un cepillo hasta el fondo dos veces por año para asegurarme que ningún salame me contagió nada que te pueda transformar en mi potencial verdugo. Qué hijo de puta.

#argieposting #argieblr #menstruation #menstruacion #periodo #período #lpm

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hel-phoenyx · 1 month

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You know I really pity the people that are in a at least a little sexual relationship with a van Heel

Because these three fuckers will mercilessly dissect your way of fucking them around tea and pastries there is absolutely no TMI between them and this is NOT the fault of Emerens' bad influence

They're just Like That

#hel is talking #la peste moderne #hel ocs #lpm #in a good note if you're a good fuck with one at least one other will come seek you at some point #and they're GOOD #but yeaaaaaaaah what's said in the van Heel tea parties really has no business getting out of the van Heel tea parties......................

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lovedbecauseitisknown · 6 days

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The concept of incest in Anima is very interesting to me.

Obviously they must be a bit more relaxed than us about what is considered incest, given that they refer to each other as cousin. I don’t think that marrying each other presents any genetic problems since there’s about 8 or 9 generations between Ophelia and Artemis (and I’m assuming this length of time allows the cousins to be distant enough that it’s not a problem). Still, conceptually, this society is totally ok with marrying people they consider cousins.

They have a register of “consanguinity exemptions”, so the concept of incest does exist and there seems to be a not-so-strict line that they shouldn’t cross. I’d love to know what this line is (siblings? direct cousins?) and under what circumstances they decide that incest is ok.

#also how do these concepts extend to other arks #do they have the same cultural understandings of incest?#I imagine not bc even just the concept of family changes drastically between anima and the pole #la passe miroir #lpm #the mirror visitor #ispeak

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soupedepates · 22 hours

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Emerens belongs to @hel-phoenyx and Eudoxe, Otto and Moses to @immaonaquest

TW mention of alcoholism and hints of child neglect

"Finally, you answer!" I shout while sitting on the asphalt in from of the bar. "Look, I need a ride to the airport like, ASAP."

"What the fuck did you do again", he whispers. "Where are you?"

"The crappy bar we used to go. The one with mad cheap booze and likely only populated with gangsters. Can you pick us up?"

"What do you mean by 'us'?"

"Me and the kids."

"What kids, yours? Since when do you have more than one kid?"

"Last time I checked, eleven years so far?"

" And you brought your eleven-year-old kids to this bar? No I don't wanna hear another word coming from that whore mouth, I'm on my way."

And Emerens hangs up. I throw my fag on the bin, then go back inside. Eudoxe and Andreas are playing cards with two grown-ass men who teach them the rules of what looks like poker while slurping their soda. I order another whiskey on the rocks, then pay the tab and sit back with the children.

"Are you winning, sons?"

They are sharing the same hand.

"I don't know, dad", Eudoxe says with a thrilled smile. "But so far it's the best vacation of my life!"

"'Tis barely a Tuesday afternoon", Andreas laughs, more accustomed to my antics.

I kiss them on the forehead, before smiling to the two men.

"Your boys are fast-learner", one says.

"I hope they're not bothering you, gentlemen", I respond with a smile.

"They're nice kids, gaijin, a pleasure to play with."

"I take back the 'gentlemen'."

And before this unfortunate encounter turns sour, Emerens appears in front of the bar. I take the boys by the collar and bring them outside with their luggage. Eudoxe is giggling, while Andreas comes to Emerens to bump fists. I know that stupid blond bitch, affectionately, is very good with kids. At least, with mine.

"Hurry up, gang, get in the car", he shouts. "You have a plane to jump in, we must be fast!"

I sit in the front seat while the children get on the back. Emerens turns on the engine, and soon enough we're headed to the airport.

"Who is the second one's mother?"

"Oh, Moses. You know her? She was insanely hot."

"Moses?!"

"Yeah, her."

He manages to avoid causing a car wreck.

"For fuck's sake Nicomaque! She is insane! She always was! You know that! Don't put your dick in crazy, idiot!"

"Look who's talking."

"What does 'dick' mean?" Eudoxe candidly asks.

"It's a penis", Andreas answers.

"Is Moses fine with the fact you took her very own child to that shitplace? And that you got fucking drunk while watching them?" Emerens almost screams, visibly upset.

"I just had a few drinks, I'm not drunk", I argue.

"He looks pretty sober to me, Emerens", adds Andreas. "He isn't slurring on his words nor puking all over the car!"

"Andy, sweetie, it's not because he is looking more decent than usual that this is okay. But is Moses okay with all of this?"

"Dad kidnapped me for the holidays", Eudoxe explains cheerfully.

"You what now?"

"It's not a kidnapping. Eudoxe came willingly and I am his father, like, legally. It's alright on the paper. Moses will probably hunt me down but hey, what's a good vacation without a bit of a chase?"

"You're making me an accomplice of a child kidnapping", he mutters. "Wasn't it for the kids on the back, I'll kill you on the spot."

"And you'd be right, but without me you'll get bored."

To his "tsk", I know it's touché. We complete each other, after all, will he admit it or not.

"And where are you bringing them?"

"Disneyland, Hope’s Peak pays good money and I try to be half of a good dad", I explain.

"In the US?"

"No, in France, I'm not an animal", I whisper while lighting a cigarette.

"Nicomaque dammit, there are kids in the car!"

I roll up the window.

"Better?"

He rips the cig out of my mouth and crushes it on my palm. Eh. Nice. I chuckle.

"You're a fucking piece of work", Emerens lets out in a sigh.

After a while in complete silence except for the occasional cussing of our driver, I notice the kids are now sound asleep. Good.

"Andreas is chubbier than last time. It is even more flagrant next to Eudoxe who is a twig. What are you feeding him?"

"We eat the same thing, I don't understand how he puts on weight," I admit. "Sure, he is an indoor kid, so was I, and I was pretty thin at his age. And you know how much my yaya was feeding me."

"Maquo, your diet is booze, coffee, tobacco and, eventually, some junk food. No wonder why you are so stupidly skinny even though you eat shit and don't do any exercise. Are you even cooking for him?"

I look away.

"Maquo, answer the question."

"What about I don't."

"From you to me, is it about Otto?"

"Take his name out of your mouth", I reply quickly, now with a burning feeling inside my stomach.

"Maquo, it's been years since it's over, and you sabotaged this relationship."

I light up a cigarette.

"If you want me to talk, let me have this one."

He sighs.

"Fine."

I draw on it and swallow the smoke.

"It's about Otto. Why should I better myself if he can't bear me at my worst?"

"That's a shitty take. What's shittier is that you have two very good reasons sleeping on the back seats."

"Look, I know you're judging. But that's not the same. And Andreas isn't a sad kid. We do things together."

"Such as?"

"Museums. Going to the library. Reading together. I help him with his homework even, when I am not wasted already. Colloquium too. And to the cinema, too."

"Colour me surprised. You're not a complete deadbeat."

"Bitch you thought. And I give him a ton of freedom. He can do whatever he wants."

"You're a fucking deadbeat, I take back the compliment", he says with disapproval. "Kids need structure."

"What for? Andreas is a smart boy, as smart as I was at his age, he can use some freedom."

"Yeah, like having an allowance, some screen time, and riding his bike to his friends' house on his own. Not being able to do jack shit knowing you don't care about it."

He sighs again.

"At least you're trying for the holidays. They will have a lovely time in Disneyland, memories for a lifetime. Don't spoil it for them."

#child neglect #mention of alcoholism #lpm #oc #and not my oc #writing #going on vacation yay #Nicomaque tries to be a good dad but he knows that he will never be

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thal-ent · 5 months

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TW : Violence, character death, blood, objectification and unwanted sexualisation (nothing happens dw), dysphoria, body mutilation, (self) amputation

"Stay focused."

They still treat him like he's a child. Not that he really blame them, they've been doing that for most of their lives, next to them he's just a rookie. Still, he knows his strengths, knows his weaknesses. He knows what to look for before they attack, when the woods are silent and the air full of static.

His eyes look on the left, the right. He's with two older hunters, Ioan and Bogdan. They've been hunters longer than he's been alive, he knows he can rely on their experience and knowledge. Yet, something doesn't feel right tonight. Even for a hunt, everything is too calm, too silent. Vampires naturally make the living creatures around them run away, the stentch of death noticable to most animals.

The smell is stronger that night.

Left, right, still nothing. Had one of the other groups found a nest, they would've, should've informed the rest of them by now. Feral vampires stay close, hunt as a group and fight for the food later.

A sound, barely noticable hasn't it been for the silence that's envelopping them. Virgil raises his sword in the direction of the sound, eyes locked to the shadows. Ioan looks in the other way, makes sure it's not trying to trap them and strike from the back. Bogdan is silent but his grip is firm, his scared jaw tense. Wait for it to strike first, let them think you're the hunted.

Then show your own fangs.

Barely a sound is heard when it strikes, claws first, towards Ioan. Barely human anymore, probably didn't have a good feast in weeks. Yet it stands, not a sound from its mouth as its left hand is severed, limp on the ground.

It doesn't even bleed anymore.

One strike is all it takes for Bogdan to end its fate. One swift mouvement through the heart of the creature, black ooze covering the blade rather than the crimson blood of a living thing. It doesn't slowly disintegrate into ashes or fade away with grace. No, it just ceases to be, what was its knees touching the ground first. It'll go up in flames once the sun touches its corpse, in just a few dozen of minutes.

Ioan mumbles something, Virgil guesses it's a prayer. For the lost soul maybe, maybe for Bogdan who's using a part of his vest to clean his blade. But the three men all feel something wrong.

"The smell is still here."

He barely speak, barely whispers, but it's enough for the older men to agree in silence. Something not right, something's missing, something's-

There's blood on the grass before Virgil hears anything.

There's blood on his boots. On his coat. On his face.

Warm, crimson blood.

And standing over Ioan's body, a vampire. Tall, silent. Perfectly healthy, short haired and smiling with blood on its gloves.

How did they miss it. How could it hide from them.

Bogdan reacts first, sword flying in the creature's direction. Kill first, before it kills you. You'll grieve once safe.

More blood stains the grass as Bogdan's arms fall on the ground, the sword still gripped tightly in his hands. The man doesn't have any time to scream in pain when the vampire's hand crushes his throat, his cries reduced to a pathetic noise. Yet Virgil sees what he wants to yell in his eyes.

"Run."

But something tells him it's exactly what the vampire wants. For him to run, to be scared. For him to become the pray he pretends to be.

So he stands. Sword in hand, heart beating so loud he almost doesn't hear it speak in a soft spoken voice, too sweet and delicate for its nature and the blood on its hands.

"You're not running sweetheart ?" He wants to vomit, but he stands. Stares at it until it laughs. "Well, that's unusual."

It goes toward him, letting Bogdan's barely conscious form fall to the ground, letting it whine as he's loosing too much blood. He'll die soon.

He'll die too, Virgil realises. That vampire is well fed, its cheeks almost pink with warmth, his form too human. Its well fed, not looking for a meal. Its looking for amusement.

A bloody hand sets itself on Virgil's right cheek, slowly caressing the three scars that sit here. Just a bit closer and Virgil could strike its heart, kill it and avenge his compagnons but-

"One move and I'll rip your jaw apart." Virgil knows it means it. The red eyes in front of him cruel and curious. "You're very pretty... How old are you darling ?" He stays silent, but the feeling of claws in his jaw makes him awnser.

"Twenty."

"My, my, so young and yet so hurt already..." It smiles, a fake cry, an apology that doesn't try to be convincing. "Tell me, what did you think you'd do here ?" It takes the cross that sits around Virgil's neck in its hand, staining it with blood as well. "Hurt some ghouls ? Clean the mess ? Really, a shame."

"We're hunting."

"You're saying this like I'm not hunting too. What, it true ! I hunt for fun. Just like any human could."

It drags its hand lower, its fingers meeting leather strong enough to stop any teeth from piercing it, no matter how sharp, around the boy's neck.

Just a few minutes. The dawn is near. He thinks, at least. It should be.

"You hunters and your idiotic "bite-proof" outfits..." It rolls its eyes and smiles, its fangs shining in the darkness. "Should I tell you where it is not ? I feel quite hungry looking at you."

A shudder pass through Virgil's body, his nausea coming back stronger than before. He knows what it means, sees how it's looking at his chest, his legs, his arms, his hips. Feels the familiar way his body yells to rip everything out, or to rip what's looking at him.

But for now he can only wait to strike.

Maybe the vampire thinks it has already won and that's why it lets Virgil keep his sword, steady in his left hand.

He feels a fangs caress his right hand before he moves, more like a reflex than real though.

Maybe he thinks about something.

A tired smile. Eyes that are just as tired behind glasses.

I can't die yet.

The pain in his hand is burning as black ooze falls on his blade and blood runs from his palm.

It bit his hand.

He pierced its heart.

It laughs, eyes wide, unbelieving. The wound does not close, the silver of the blade burning the creature as if it was the sun.

Virgil rips his shirt and quickly creates a tourniquet above his wrist. His veins turn to ooze under it, the venom stopped where the blood stops flowing.

Barely a second pass.

The vampire launches towards him.

He's covered in black liquid as the vampire's head roll on the ground.

But he cannot rest yet.

He rips another part of his shirt, the leather underneath his only shield as the sun slowly rises. His blade is clean, sharp as always.

Another part of his shirt is ripped, a clean one, and he stuffs it in his mouth. He plants his blade to the ground, and put his arm under where it should cut.

He doesn't have time.

He barely scream behind the gag.

Blood and onze come out of the severed limb.

He has no time.

He gets his sword back. Get the gag out.

The sun is out.

The vampires burn quickly. His limp arm does slowly.

He needs to go home.

He feels the blood on him.

He needs to go home.

He's barely conscious when the day patrol finds him stumbling in the forest.

I need to go home.

He's brought to his father's house. He hears whispers, cries, panic.

I'll be home, Bastien.

It's his only though, as the dark claims him.

He swears, to whoever will hear him.

He'll go back to him.

#thal talk #my art #thal'imagination #lpm #pdg #la peste moderne #YEA THIS BECAME WAY LONGER THAN INTENDED LMAO #anyways some backstory about how my favorite vampire hunter lost his arm lol <3 #this is set in early 2024 like barely before the new year #at or ast it doesn't really matter it happens either way lol

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buckaroosboogara · 3 months

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The fact that I knew about Milei's law being approved because of my Tumblr moots bc I cannot watch the news anymore (it makes me physically sick how my country is suffering.)

#ni siquiera se si es la ley ómnibus o el mega dnu #no se si quiero saber #lpm #argieposting

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lpa6zn · 1 year

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2 - 0

VAMOS ARGENTINAAAA!

GOOOLL!!!!🇦🇷🇦🇷

#i love argentina #world cup #quatar #lionel messi #leo messi #fifa world cup #fifa 2022 #qatar world cup #world cup 2022 #argentina vs mexico #selección argentina #Messi #fuck yesss #vamos carajo #lpm

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somekindofpoet · 1 year

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La Petite Mort - T'en Va Pas

Summary: Reader works until she's numb enough to clock out, Lorraine brings her back around

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: +18 NSFW, smut, language

A/N: Thank you @deep-fried-egg for keeping my French straight, you a real one for that. Let me know what you guys want to see next!

LPM Part I LPM Part II LPM Part III LPM Part V LPM Part VI

The sound of gentle snuffling rouses you from your sleep, the early morning sun breaking the horizon creeping into the clearing. You crack your eyes open, and you wake with laughter on your lips as you see CB looking down at you, his mouth rustling over your chest, looking for treats. You push his nose away, pulling a jolly rancher from your pocket, unwrapping it, and giving it to him. Satisfied with your offering, he shuffles off.

As soon as he’s out of your line of sight, you remember why you’re sleeping in the grass under the open sky. Your sleepy laughter is replaced by a dull ache in your chest, your stomach sinking. Lorraine hadn’t spent the night with you. Your last conversation with her constricts your body, and all you want is for the feeling to go away.

You sit up, your back damp from the grass you’d slept in. You never moved back onto your sleeping bag after Lorraine vacated it, unable to bear the possibility of her smell lingering there. You sigh, scratch your head, try to enjoy the morning view of the pond.

A thin fog rolls over the water, breaking up as it floats to the bank. Dew clings to the grass and strands of your hair. The air is fresh, crisp, and clean with the start of a new day. The remnants of your fire smoldered under a layer of ash, the smell of burning wood soaking into any fabric it could reach. With the cicadas singing in the trees, you can tell the day is going to be gorgeous. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, stretching your arms over your head. When you open them, the scenery is just as peaceful, but it’s at odds with the feeling in your chest.

Keeping yourself painfully busy would be the only way to avoid the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. The Days were leaving for a trip to see family out west, so you’d have the ranch to yourself for a few days. You plan to work until your hands bleed or until you don’t feel sick to your stomach.

With that in mind, you crawl over to your sleeping bag, pull on your boots and haul yourself to your feet. Kick dirt onto the hot coals, smothering it. You put your fingers to your lips and whistle, calling CB to you as you pick up his saddle blanket. He trots over, shaking his body out when he sees the blanket, knowing he’s going to work. You scratch his head and kiss the velvet patch on his nose.

“You’re the best, buddy. Let’s get some work done, hey?”

He drops his head and pushes gently into your chest. You hug him, closing your eyes and breathing in the sweet smell of alfalfa in his hair. You’re grateful for his company; even when you’re spiraling into melancholy, he provides you some comfort.

CB was gifted to you by the Days, back when your father worked for them. You were ten, and seeing the tiny foal in the barn for the first time is one of your most cherished memories.

“What’re you gonna call ‘im?” Mr. Day had asked you, a loving smile under his dark mustache.

Your eyes had gone so wide you were surprised they didn’t fall out of your head.

“I get to name him?!”

He laughed, his hand on your shoulder, “You get to name him, and you get to take care of him. For his whole life. He’s yours.”

Your father had swelled with pride, grinning ear to ear behind you. Lorraine had bustled in, not wanting to miss playing with the newest addition to her family ranch, her excitement for you sweet and reserved.

You looked to her for advice, “What should I call him?”

Her tiny face lit up, thrilled to be included in the process, “You should call him. Hmm,” she tapped her chin, taking her task very seriously, “Oh, I know! Call him his favorite food!”

Your fathers chuckled in the background, content to let the two of you work through this naming without their assistance.

“Bacon!” You shouted, throwing your hands in the air.

Lorraine giggled, “Horses don’t like bacon, silly. They like carrots.”

You smiled, bashful at your outburst, “Bacon is my favorite food.”

“Why don’t you call him Carrot Bacon?” She suggested, very pleased with herself for the idea.

You nodded, excited to have come to a decision. You walked over to his pen, patted him on the nose.

“Carrot Bacon, you’re mine forever.”

——

You rode CB into the barn, pulling hay out of a stack to give him his breakfast. His water trough was already filled, Mr. Day must have done it before they left that morning. You leave your horse to eat and make your way out to your truck to change your clothes, grateful you’d had the foresight to pack.

When you get there, a note is stuck under your windshield wipers. It’s in Mrs. Day’s slanted cursive.

‘Y/n, we headed out early, didn’t want to bother your beauty rest. Thank you for watching the ranch while we’re out. Left you dinner in the fridge. Coffee is fresh in the pot. Don’t work yourself too hard.’

The note makes you smile wistfully. They knew you too well. You glance up at the house, knowing you’d be camping in the clearing while they were gone. You liked their house well enough, but everything would remind you of the person you were desperately trying not to think of.

Despite that notion, you do brave the kitchen for a mug of coffee. You take it outside, sit in the deck chair and enjoy it, allowing the morning to pass in the lazy, peaceful ways mornings do. When the coffee is gone and the sun has burned through the mist and dew, you return to the barn to retrieve CB.

On the ride out to the back pasture, you kick him into a gallop, running him hard away from the barn. Your horse was not barn sour. Who you were trying to prove that to was lost on you, but you did it anyway. You enjoyed the adrenaline, the wind rushing past your face, letting CB take his head and open up his full gait. You make it to the pasture in record time, slowing him to a trot as you near the broken fences.

You slide off his back and pull your tools from the saddle bag, ready to immerse yourself in manual labor. The sun burns at its full strength, high in the sky, beating down on you as you work. You lose yourself in it, focused on the task at hand. It’s tranquil, even if it’s exhausting. You’d rather put your body through the wringer than let your mind wander.

Hours pass, but they’re lost on you. Your shirt is soaked through with sweat, your water supply running low. You persevere, hell-bent on finishing the job and avoiding yourself for as long as possible. When you do finally tie off the last post, the sun has set into the horizon, the last rays of light trickling out.

You sigh, sink down to the dirt with the post at your back. You’re so tired you can’t even think about anything other than water and sleep. Mission accomplished in more ways than one. CB approaches you, curious as to why he hasn’t been fed his dinner yet. You nod at him, pulling yourself up.

“Yeah, you’re right, bud. Let’s go back to the house.”

You drag yourself into your saddle, slumping over on his neck. He starts the journey back to where he knows he gets to rest, his steps a little faster than usual. You roll your eyes at him and sit up, letting him trot. Maybe he’s a little barn sour.

By the time the house is in view, CB is hurrying along, and you allow it because you think you might be dying of thirst. Before you can go inside, you take care of him. Hosing him down and brushing him, then feeding him his dinner in his stall. You’re unsure of the time, but the moon is out, lighting the ranch in a silver glow. There’s no way you’re camping out tonight, avoiding your thoughts be damned.

You nearly fall into the kitchen, kicking your boots off at the door. You don’t bother with the lights as you turn the sink on as cold as it will go and drink from the tap. You stick your head under the water, letting it run over your hair and down your neck. You’re making a mess, but you’ll clean it up before the Days get back. Right now, you just need water.

A soft shuffling sound behind you catches your attention, and a quiet, sleep-heavy voice, “Y/n?”

You switch the tap off and turn slowly. Lorraine is in the doorway, bleary-eyed in a small nightgown. You’re so tired, you almost convince yourself you’re dreaming.

“Come here.” She says, softly.

Still not convinced you’re awake, you make your way to her, your feet heavy and slow. Follow her to her bedroom, close the door. She reaches for you, her hands gentle and unhurried. She pulls your shirt over your head, follows with the rest of your clothes, until you’re stark naked, in a daze. She slips out of her nightgown, and your heart skips a beat. You missed her.

The sheer immensity of the feeling pushes aside any reservation you might have about being with her. RJ is nowhere near close to the front of your mind. Not when she pulls you down to kiss her for the first time in two days, not when your hands find their way home over her ribs, or when she pulls you into her bed. You missed her so much.

Had you been less tired, more aware, the thought may have frightened you. That you could miss her this much when she was right in front of you. But now, with her under your body, all you can feel is relief. She quenches your thirst better than water, oxygen is richer in her presence, even the moonlight shines brighter through her bedroom window.

She kisses you leisurely, her lips on yours calming you and comforting you. Her hands wander, deliberately feeling every piece of your body while you sink into her.

“I’m all yours,” she whispers when she pulls her lips from yours, and you’re completely lost in her.

You don’t even think to question her, don’t bother to argue that she was not, in fact, all yours. But in the moment, she is. And you can’t help yourself but venerate her. Your body is still heavy, sluggish, but the more primal parts of you are wide awake now. You lick at her neck, press your lips to her skin, inch your way down to her chest. Kiss her sternum, your hands covering her breasts and squeezing tenderly.

The soft whimper that leaves her lips drives you further down her body, your destination clear. As much as you want to dive into her, you take your time to cherish every single inch of her, kissing each rib on her left side as you descend. You can’t decide at this point if you’re doing this for her, or for yourself. Committing every freckle, every scar, every mark on her to your memory. In case you never get to kiss them again.

It’s somber and sweet, the dichotomy of your feelings for this moment. You brush the weight of your heart aside, kissing her thighs instead. She opens her legs further without question, giving you space to settle in. You slide your arms under her thighs, wrap your hands around her hips, press a kiss to the inside of her knee.

Her hand pushes your hair away from your eyes, she watches you with eager eyes. You give her what she wants. What you want. With your mouth on her, you completely forget your troubles. Any worry is gone from your mind when you dip your tongue inside of her, and she whines, her fingers tightening in your hair. Her body is familiar to you now. You know what she wants, what she likes, what will make her shake. Pleasing her is pleasing yourself, so you waste no more time.

You drag your tongue up to her clit, and she moans above you, her body responding immediately. You take it slow, not giving her immediate satisfaction, making her whimper and shift under your tongue. If this lasts for the rest of your life, it’ll end too soon. You wrap your lips around her, sucking gently, then alternate with your tongue in flat passes over her. She’s trying to be patient, you can tell, but her writhing and squirming tells you she’s nearly had enough.

You slide your hands up her body, and to your surprise, she takes one of them and interlaces your fingers together, squeezing. Your eyes travel up to hers, she’s desperate and needy, and you can’t hold out on her any longer. You suck harder, pick up your pace. She unravels around you, her thighs squeezing your ears, her fingers crushing yours. When she falls limp, her legs dropping to your sides, you crawl up her body, your fingers slipping between her legs as you kiss her nipple.

You push into her slowly, savoring how she feels, the smell of her, the taste. As you curl your fingers, you swirl your tongue around her nipple, and her nails dig into your shoulder. You relish in it, the stinging on your skin and her soft moaning, her breast in your mouth, your fingers working in her, wet and tight.

She’s pulling at you, breathing labored as you pick up your rhythm, and you greet her at her lips again, kissing her hungrily. Her hands are around your face, her tongue in your mouth, and she won’t let you go. You stay, kiss her with everything that’s in you, tell her how important she is to you, how you feel about her with your tongue on her teeth and your lips dancing with hers.

Her breathing picks up, and her body tightens, her hands leaving your face to hold you close to her. She pulls you to press your chest into hers, letting her feel more of your weight on her. She lets you leave her lips in favor of gasping, so you go back to her neck, sucking at that spot that gave her goosebumps. Her orgasm is short, breathy, and hard. She can’t move as much with your body on hers, so she grips your back instead, squeezing you as she cums.

She relaxes, and a sudden fear overcomes you that it’s done. The sense of finality makes you shake. You can’t be done. You push yourself up on your elbows and gaze down at her, trying not to let her see the fear in your eyes.

“Roll over,” you whisper, kissing her collarbone and sitting up to give her space to obey.

She tilts her head, her brows furrowed, but she trusts you, so she rolls. You leave one leg between hers and kiss the small of her back, making her shiver. She pushes up onto her elbows to look back at you, but you shake your head and move up to kiss her. You pull away and look into her eyes, reassuring her without words. She accepts, and your hand runs up the back of her thigh.

You dip your fingers between her legs again, blind but knowing where to go. You circle her clit as you start to leave kisses up her spine. You begin your exploration of her again, truly taking in all of her. This time you kiss every rib on her right side and every inch of her spine. She groans into the pillow as you leave her clit to push inside of her again, with more force than before.

Using the weight of your body, you thrust into her, moving your hips in tandem to push harder. What were once soft, sultry sighs turn into shameless moans, her fingers gripping the cotton sheets near her head. You brush her hair over her shoulder to kiss the back of her neck, over to her jaw, as she turns her head to meet you. You’re full tilt, rocking her body up with every thrust, and her mouth hangs open, not even trying to quiet herself.

She pushes herself up on one arm, turning to find you, and you kiss her hard, abandoning the tenderness from earlier, becoming desperate. She turns her head away from you, resting her forehead on her arm. You press a kiss to her shoulder, then to her back between her shoulder blades, and she’s hurtling off the edge. Pushing her hips back into you, one of her hands coming back to hold your hip, her other gripping the pillow. With one final push, she collapses, with you close behind.

She’s gasping, trying to catch her breath, her eyes closed. You press a kiss to her cheekbone and fall over on your back next to her. You know you’ll have to wait for her to come around, and it’ll take especially long after that. She reaches out for you, curling around you as she pants, clinging to your side. You run your nails gently along her back, closing your eyes as you wait for her to recover.

You’re very nearly asleep when she hums into your collarbone, “I’ve missed you.”

It jerks you awake, and you’re finally reminded of why you should have been apprehensive tonight. You shouldn’t be doing this. You know it, and it’s only clear now that your lust filled haze has settled. She can feel you tense under her and sighs, already knowing where your thoughts had gone.

“Can we just have this moment, right now, and not think about it?” She mumbles, her voice tight.

You sigh, rub your eyes, “I’ve missed you too.”

You can’t hide the sadness in your voice as you say it, and she nuzzles in further to you, squeezing your ribs. Your mind is made up in that moment. If you can’t have this, if this is the last time, you have to leave. You have to run for the hills and never look back, or you’ll be swallowed up by this smothering heartache.

You gulp, “Raine.”

“Mhm?”

“I’m leaving.”

She squeezes you tighter, “Not tonight, okay?”

Your turn and kiss the top of her head, leaving your nose in her hair, your eyes closed tight. She doesn’t have to know. She’ll be okay.

——

You wake the next morning before sunrise and find the bed empty. Lorraine’s side is cold; she’s been gone for a while. You think maybe it’s for the best, you’ll pack CB up and start driving, and all of this will be like a fever dream.

You roll out of bed and pull on your clothes, trying to stay quiet in case she’s asleep in another room. Make your way through the house, pull on your boots in the kitchen. The water from the night before has dried, no mess for you to clean up. It seems fitting because the mess around you is nearly suffocating.

You make your way outside as the sun is beginning to rise and take a long look at the ranch. Why you ever wanted to leave before is lost on you, you loved it here. But now you have to leave, and the fact sits in your gut like a stone.

You climb into your truck and drive around to your trailer, turning off the engine and sliding out to make your way around to the hitch. Your hands fumble with a task that should have been easy, your fingers trembling as you lock the ball in place.

Inside the barn, you find CB’s tack and haul it to the trailer, loading it up before you come back for him. You frown when you get to his stall, finding it empty. You know you locked him up last night, so where was he?

You make your way outside, turning around the side of the barn, scratching your head. The cattle in the pasture lift their heads, watching you with bored eyes. As you round the back of the barn, you find him. He’s in the paddock, grazing with Pearl. Lorraine is sitting on the fence, watching them. Your heart clenches at the sight. You’ll have to say goodbye now.

Lorraine turns as you approach, her face peaceful. She smiles at you, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and in that moment, you know she knows. She had understood what you meant.

“Thought he should get some exercise before you load him up,” she tells you, her voice shaky.

You close your eyes, take a deep breath, “Thank you.”

She nods and looks back out at the paddock, “You don’t have to leave.”

“I do.”

She turns back to you, chewing her lip, “You don’t.”

You press your fingers to your lips and whistle, calling CB to you as your answer. He lifts his head and finds you, trotting over to the gate. You skip a lead over his ears and open the gate, walking him away from the paddock.

Lorraine jumps off the fence and jogs to your side, “Where will you go?”

You shrug, trying your damndest not to look down at her. You hook the lead to the side of the trailer and brush past her, climbing inside to make sure everything is set for him. She hovers at the back, unsure of what to do, or what to say.

As you’re cinching down the saddle on its hook, you hear a car pull into the drive and turn back to Lorraine. She’s leaning around the side, trying to see who it is. You can see her knuckles turn white as she squeezes the trailer door, and you know who it must be. Her hand disappears as she walks toward the new arrival. You shake your head and finish the saddle. You can hear RJ’s voice outside, and your jaw clenches. So much for a clean break. Now you’ll be driving away with a sour taste in your mouth to accompany the heartbreak.

You climb out of the trailer, and what you find surprises you. Lorraine is shaking her head, and RJ’s hands are on his hips, irritation clear as day on his face.

“Let’s just go, I have to finish this film, and then we can do whatever you want. Get in the van.”

He catches sight of you, and you can see his jaw flex. He looks back to Lorraine, but her eyes followed his when he looked at you, and now she’s turned toward you. She takes a step in your direction, and you tilt your head, trying to work out what is going on in her mind.

“Lorraine,” RJ says, his voice low.

She turns back to him, and you nod, understanding now. You take CB’s lead and load him into the trailer, closing the gate behind him. When you come back around, she’s facing you again, standing halfway between you and RJ. Her lip is going to bleed if she keeps biting it. You want to tell her, but think better of it. She turns back to RJ. Takes a step. You start walking toward the truck door, and she turns to you.

“Come on, Raine, let’s go. Right now.”

She turns back to him, and you’re only a few feet from your door. You risk a glance at her, and she’s watching you. RJ is fuming behind her, his impatience getting the better of him. You shake your head and reach for the door handle, but her hand is on your arm. You turn and look down. Her eyes are wide, and her lip trembles.

RJ throws his hands up, “I have to go, Lorraine.”

You brush her hair behind her ear and nod, telling her it’s okay. She shakes her head no, leans up on her toes, and kisses you.

“Don’t go.”

#lorraine day #lpm #lorraine day x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x reader

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