#I love how unbothered the passengers are

[n1ghteeea]

Janine and Peter absolutely obliterating a plane (shoutout to @rgbfactsdaily for mentioning this scene, I love it so much)

[msbigredmachine]

Warm (Jey Uso/OC)

An on-again, off-again couple takes the snowy ride to the next town together.

PAIRING: Jey Uso x OC

Word Count: 6.3k

Warning: The usual smut and everything in between.

A/N: First fic of the year! Enjoy!

Click here if you want to be on the tag list. If I’ve forgotten anyone please let me know so I can add you.

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

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"Hey girl, got a sec?"

Looking up to see Nia standing right in front of her, Malia stood up straighter. The locker room was full of her friends and fellow wrestlers, all done for the evening and packing up to leave the arena. "What's up?"

"I totally forgot that I agreed to carpool with Maxxine after the show," she said as they exited the locker room together. "I'm really sorry, it totally slipped my mind."

"Oh, that sucks," Malia said, a little disappointed as Nia was great company. "It's no big deal. I'll figure something out."

"Are you sure? It's starting to snow out there. Will you be okay on your own?"

"Alone on the road with full control of the heating and my own playlist?" Malia laughed. "I'll be fine."

Nia nodded. "Okay. I feel bad, so I'll ask around and see if anyone needs a ride. That way you can split the bills and stuff," she offered, pausing when she looked over Malia's shoulder. "Oooh, look who's coming our way," she grinned.

Curious, Malia turned around, and her heart skipped a beat as Josh Fatu walked in their direction, his carry-on behind him and his phone in front of him. She plastered an unbothered expression on her face and turned back to Nia, but the Irresistible Force saw right through the facade.

"Girl, you're blushing already!" she cackled. "You and him still fucking?"

"No, I'm not blushing. And no, we're not fucking," Not lately anyway, Malia added to herself, fluffing her Afro as nonchalantly as possible.

"Liar. You two crack me up, you're totally in love with each other but keep acting like you're not. I did warn you about the whole friends-with-benefits thing."

She did. And Malia caught feelings and had been trying to run from those feelings since. But not with much success, given that she and Josh were both part of the Monday Night Raw roster and lived in the same goddamn city which gave him plenty of access to her. The problem was she was falling in love and he wasn't, so she tried to save face by imposing an extended 'break' from each other, under the guise of 'seeing other people'. Being alone with him on a long midnight drive wasn't going to help her cause to break away.

"It's a three-hour trip from here to Cleveland. Think you can hold off for that long if you go together?" Nia asked, a little too gleefully for Malia's taste.

"Stop with the slander. You make it sound like I'm this raging nympho," she rebuffed.

"When it comes to him? Yes! I've witnessed it! You jump each other's bones every chance you get. How you guys aren't official, I'll never understand. He's getting closerrrr," Nia sang, clearly enjoying the way Malia was trying not to squirm. "Let me go talk to him."

Malia started to panic as Nia moved towards him. "Where are you going?" she warned, "Nia, no!"

"Um, you want a ride or not? Hey, Joshyyyy!"

"Savelina!" Malia hissed, falling silent when Josh looked up from his phone, his gaze lingering on her for a long, tense beat before moving to Nia. "Sup ladies," he said, tipping his bearded chin up in greeting. His jaw moved repeatedly, and she saw he was chewing gum when he opened his mouth to speak. Juicy Fruit, she predicted. His favorite.

"I heard you're driving by yourself tonight," Nia said to him.

His eyebrows rose skeptically. "Yeah..."

"You want a passenger? Cuz my girl over here needs someone to ride with, in more ways than one..."

"Lina, shut up," Malia cut in, stepping in front of her and meeting Josh head-on. "Forgive our friend, Becky hit her in the head too many times tonight," she explained, her insides warming when Jey laughed. "I was supposed to carpool with bitch over here but she made other plans and left me stranded. So umm...if you're going alone, would you mind if I tagged along?" Why the fuck did she sound like she was asking him to Prom?

Again, the air around them simmered with an unknown element. When he took longer than usual to respond, her heart sank a little. "It's cool if you don't want to, I can find someone else-"

"Nah, it's all good, uce, you can come along," he spoke up with a smile. "But I'm 'bout to leave right now, so if you ready-"

"I am," Malia answered, a bit too quickly, and flushed with embarrassment when the corner of his mouth curled upward in a bemused smile. It was then she realized that Nia had disappeared, leaving the two standing alone in the empty hallway.

"Uhh...We should get going," Malia spoke up, scratching awkwardly at the nape of her curly Afro.

Josh nodded, pausing as his eyes scanned her up and down again. "This what you wearin'?" he inquired.

She made a quick, albeit thorough twirl to show off her outfit, a short, figure-hugging beige dress accompanied by a black pair of furry knee-high Uggs. "Yeah, why? What's wrong with it?"

"It's a lil' chilly, no? I mean, don't get me wrong, you look real good, it's just-" Catching himself, he trailed off nervously before he could say anything else inappropriate.

"My jacket is right here, I'll be fine. But if I do get too cold, I'm sure you can keep me warm." Her smile was syrupy sweet as she let the innuendo sink in. The awkwardness was melting away, leaving only the sexual synergy they were both accustomed to.

Josh chuckled to himself and stepped closer to her. "A'ight, I see what'chu tryna do," he said in a lower, huskier timbre that made her loins flutter. "Let's get outta here before I do sum'n we'll both like."

She wanted to ask what was stopping him but instead took the hand he held out to her. It was big and protective and the gentle way he rubbed his thumb over hers always made her feel safe. Together they left the building and into the indoor parking lot. He helped her put her things in the trunk of his Ford Expedition rental, and she fought the urge to stare at his ass when he bent over.

As they began their journey, her gaze landed on her on-again, off-again 'boyfriend', his own fixed on the road ahead. Wearing a fitting dual-colored Nike tracksuit, he looked yummy himself. The hand that had held hers was now on the steering wheel, and she found herself wishing it was touching her again but on a more risqué part of her body this time. They were on a 'break' but she envisioned a lot of difficulty keeping things platonic tonight.

"Since when do you listen to Bon Jovi?" She broke the ice several minutes later, talking over the eighties rock ballad that was playing on the radio and was surprised it hadn't been turned off. "You always used to tell me to change that shit," she laughed.

"They not so bad, they got some good workout songs," he defended with a shrug. "How come you didn't take a flight tonight?" he asked.

She gave a shrug of her own. "I don't know. I probably should have. But with the weather and everything, there'd probably be tons of delays at the airport. I would have ended up sitting there all night. How about you?"

"Same. I prefer the open road anyway," he replied. "Drive fast, blast some good music, you know what it is." He shot her a grin, making selections on the GPS. "Everything good? You comfortable?"

Smoothing her dress down her crossed legs, she nodded and tilted her seat back. "Yeah, I'm good," she responded.

"So how was Christmas? Whatchu do? Spend time with your man?" Josh asked.

Malia snorted and flipped her hair. "Ain't no man. He's an insecure bum so he's gone. I stayed with my brother and his family for a few days, played with my nieces, they're so big now."

He wanted to feel bad about the way his heart leapt for joy about her relationship status. "I told you he was a bum from the jump, uce," he mumbled.

"Well, you were right. Congrats," she bit sarcastically.

"I ain't wanna be right though. I just want you to be happy," said Josh, exchanging a glance with her, his stare filled with its familiar warmth that was charged with something else.

Being here is a bad idea.

"What about you? You were with your boys and their mom, I'm guessing," she kept the conversation going.

"More of the boys, less of their mom," he clarified.

"That's it? No woman to warm your bed?"

He snorted and shot her a bombastic side-eye. "If I remember clearly, you sent the last woman I was with packin', with your razor-sharp ass tongue."

Malia burst out laughing. "Ha, that bitch? She's a clout-chasing airhead. One conversation with her and my IQ got fucked up. Stop messin' with those NXT bimbos, Joshua. It's not a good look."

"Why you so pressed though?" He had an idea, but he wanted to hear it straight from the horse's mouth.

"I'm not pressed. You smarter than that. She wasn't good for you."

"And you know this, how?"

Because she ain't me. None of them are. "I just know," was all she said.

"Huh. We seem to 'know' a lot about each other," Josh noted, "So why don't you want us to stay together?" he asked.

And there it is. "You already know the answer," she responded, with a hint of attitude.

"No I don't, so how 'bout you fill me in, huh," he retorted. They had stopped at a red light so he now had all the time to look her in the eye.

Exhaling a heavy sigh, she refused to get suckered in. "Because. Your roster is deep enough as it is," she mumbled.

"What roster?"

Malia huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, we gonna play dumb now? I'm not the only woman you're fucking, Joshua."

"The last person I had sex with was you, right before you dumped me for ol' boy," Josh replied, annoyance creeping into his tone.

"Correction. I did not dump you. Dumping implies that we were dating," Malia argued. "I distinctly remember you saying you weren't looking for nothin' serious, so it ain't dumping if there's no relationship to dump."

The silence that followed was deafening, even with the music playing. The temperature in the car plummeted several degrees. Josh simply shook his head. "Damn, that how you feel all this time? Okay then." he tsked, releasing the brakes as the light turned green. "A'ight. Note taken."

The hurt swirling in his voice surprised her. Rattled, she opened her mouth to speak, but wisely decided to close it back. Because there really was nothing to say. This was the consequence of getting involved with someone without setting clear boundaries; the result of repeatedly holding off the simple task of defining a relationship — nothing but uncertainty and heartache. It was the bed she made long ago and now she had to lie in it.

But oddly enough, that seemed to be the appeal of entanglements; the thrill, the warped sense of freedom to do whatever you wanted to each other with no strings. But intimacy always had its attachments, and Malia had been attached to Josh for a long, long time with no idea how to cut the strings without getting hurt.

"The snow seems to be getting worse," she changed the subject and with good reason. They seemed to be driving into a storm. The snowfall was heavier and the nearly empty highway was turning white. "Are you sure we'll make it into Cleveland like this?"

Her question was answered only a few seconds later, by the flashing lights and flares up ahead. A car wreck, and a bad one judging from the amount of fire, rescue, and police crews on the scene. As Josh slowed the car to a crawl, they were greeted by a gruesome tableau.

The many bright, flashing lights cast a grotesque glow on the crumpled remains of an SUV. A black bag, zipped and strapped to a stretcher, was being loaded into the back of an ambulance. Malia's eyes widened with horror. The mangled car was the same type as theirs, and the driver's seat was covered in blood, a lot of it splattered on the white snow. "Oh no...Babe..." she breathed.

Her voice was tiny. Scared. Josh grabbed her hand and squeezed it repeatedly to get her attention. "Ay, don't look. Look at me," he cajoled, waiting for her to do so, running his thumb over hers to quell her panic. "I'll take the next exit. Let's find somewhere to crash until morning." He cringed. "Bad choice of words. Sorry."

"You don't mind stopping?" she asked, feeling a little sick. There was no way she was going any further with what she'd just witnessed.

"Personally, I'd rather be late gettin' where I'm going than never gettin' there at all."

"I agree. I'll check if there's any available hotels nearby," she offered, reaching for her phone in the console.

"You good?" he checked on her again, his fingers flexing around hers.

"I'm okay. It's just...that was horrible," Malia shuddered. "But you calmed me down. You've always been good at that." She smiled gratefully at him.

"Mm-hmm," he mumbled, as he lifted the back of her hand to his lips in a gentle kiss. He then rested his hand on her bare leg, running it up her smooth chocolate skin. Ironically, her dress gave him perfect access to the sensitivity of her inner thigh, and he allowed his fingers to dance over it.

Malia cast her eyes down to watch his hand disappear under her dress. This was what she liked about him so much; his boldness, his sense of adventure. Only he could dare to touch on her while driving on a dark, sleety highway. "Boy, what are you doin'?" she asked as he squeezed her thigh. She tried to play it cool, tried to act like her skin had not been set ablaze by his touch.

"Keepin' you warm," he affirmed nonchalantly, as he slid his palm over her lace panties, his favorite on her, enjoying the feel of her moist warmth against the fabric. He had since learned that he couldn't stay mad at her for long. "I miss you," he whispered, breaching her underwear with one finger.

"I miss you too," she admitted, jerking as the finger slipped inside of her. "Oh, shit," she gasped, tilting her head back against the leather headrest.

"Phew, you wet as fuck," Josh whistled, eyeing up his ex with a Cheshire Cat-like grin. "Ol' boy wasn't fuckin' you like he should?"

Before she could answer, he slid another digit into her wetness, drawing another moan from her. She moved her legs further apart, causing her dress to ride higher up, and grabbed his wrist with both hands. "Fuck, yeah," she sighed, going slack in her seat.

Maybe it wasn't the brightest idea, Josh realized, as the sound of her wanton moans filled the car. As her pussy tightened around his fingers. He wasn't doing much for his own erect state by doing this, but the look on her face convinced him to keep going. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, keeping his eyes on the road. "How's that feel, hmm?" he asked.

The only response she could muster was another breathy moan while strengthening her grip on his wrist. She didn't want to come just yet, but between his fingers twisting deep inside her tightening core and the added heat rushing through her, she knew she wouldn't last long. She wanted this to last forever, just like every time she was with him; she clung desperately to every second, because each one was always better than the last. He just hit different. He always did.

The spell broke when she heard him curse and he abruptly stopped, slipping his fingers out of her. "The fuck?" she whined.

"Sorry, I had to," Josh explained, pointing. The smoky haze of passion and frustration cleared quickly enough for her to realize they had left the expressway and were now pulling into the parking lot of a hotel. Crossing her arms petulantly, she sat up straighter and pouted. "Goddamn tease. You ain't slick," she grumbled.

"Nope. But you are," he emphasized, holding up his fingers covered in her essence and bringing them to his mouth. "Mmm, sweet and spicy, like always."

His dirty snicker had her pussy clenching again. This man was going to be the death of her.

Parking the Expedition in front of the hotel door, they rushed in with their bags to the check-in desk and found the exhausted-looking receptionist behind the counter. It was clear they'd had a massive influx of people and that she was the only one handling everything.

"You're just in luck. We have one room left," the lady replied when Josh asked her if they had any vacancies. "It's probably our smallest room and only has one queen-sized bed, but it's perfect for a lovely couple like yourselves," she smiled warmly.

"We'll take it," Josh responded, handing over his credit card before Malia could reject it. Given the state of the weather outside and that horrendous crash they came across, it was likely the best, safest option.

They got the keycards and made a quick stop at the nearby Chipotle to get some food. Josh paid again, boxing Malia against the counter with his big frame and frowning menacingly at the cashier who had the nerve to flirt with her. Though there technically was no territory to mark, she didn't mind. Besides, it was cold outside and his body heat was inviting and much needed. Afterwards, they returned to the hotel and made it into the small room that was warm, toasty, and quite clean, making them feel a bit better that they wouldn't be stuck in some Bates Motel-type murder house.

"Last time we were stuck in a room together, we spent all afternoon working out how many pinning combinations we could make each other come in," Malia reminisced as she bit into her burrito.

"Yeah. I remember winning," Josh grinned proudly. "You can have the bed, by the way," he gestured to her. "Imma sleep on the couch, give you some space."

"Why?" Malia gave him a stern look. "The bed is big enough for both of us. Plus, your back will be fucked up if you sleep on that lil ass couch."

She wasn't wrong; the couch felt rather firm and it wouldn't be pleasant. Josh was trying to be a gentleman, but he ultimately agreed since driving tomorrow with a backache did not sound ideal.

After finishing their meals, they settled in, and Malia texted the Talent Relations rep to inform them of her and Josh's whereabouts. Unfortunately, the weather forecast on TV was pretty grim as they were expecting upwards of forty inches of snow. Getting to their destination in time tomorrow would be a tough ask.

Josh used the bathroom first to give Malia some privacy. When he re-emerged, she was stripped down to a short white bathrobe that did nothing to hide that body of hers, giving him a little peek of her voluptuous behind as she picked up her toilet bag.

Fuck.

"Babe, do you got a spare shirt I can sleep in?" She stood back upright, her throat drying up at the sight of his towel hanging low on his hips. She watched the rivulets of water drip down his tattooed chest and felt parched.

Josh swallowed. "Sure, I got somethin'." He crossed the room, reached inside his open luggage and pulled out a 'YEET' hoodie. "This okay?"

He gazed into her eyes, and Malia felt her knees quiver, almost like they were threatening to collapse beneath her. "Yeah, thanks," she smiled, taking the hoodie.

"You called me babe again." There was a small, teasing smile on his face.

Malia felt her face burn. "Oh, um...Yeah. Habit. Sorry..." Lost for words, she quickly departed, silently willing her limbs to not give out on her.

Waiting until the door had closed behind her, Josh sank down on the bed and tried to focus on the TV. He could hear her moving around. Brushing her teeth. Undressing. Rubbing his face, he groaned when he heard the shower start. After their argument in the car and what he did afterwards, his emotions were all over the place, and now they had to share this bed. Keeping his hands to himself was going to be a tough ask.

Keep your hands to yourself, Malia repeated to herself over and over as she finished up her skincare routine. It's just one night. Behave yourself. What happened in the car meant nothing.

Yes it did, the voice she fondly named 'Delulu', debated, He misses you, he said so himself. That's why he acted the way he did in the car. That's why he almost bit that cashier's head off in Chipotle.

She had a point. She recalled the full-blown lust in his eyes as he touched her, the eager movement of his fingers inside her as though he couldn't stop himself. Overall, it felt good to know he wasn't quite over her just as she wasn't quite over him.

Don't do it, her other voice, dubbed 'You Right' because it always was, warned. You're just his plaything, always have been. Why do you want to play house with a guy who doesn't love you like you love him? He just misses the pussy. That's it.

Good point.

But I miss the dick too! 'Delulu' pouted.

'You Right' rolled her eyes. Too bad. Take another shower, a cold one this time.

With a heavy sigh, Malia wrapped up her hair and put on her pajamas for the night. The hoodie was big on her, reaching her thighs. She decided against panties, having made up her mind about the voice she was going to listen to.

She returned to the warmth of the bedroom, instantly landing on the ruggedly handsome man stretched out on the left side of the bed. His favorite side. His gaze flickered from the TV to her, his lips twitching into a small smile.

"You make my merch look so sexy, baby," he commented.

"Why thank you Daddy," she replied, then froze, her eyes wide. Shit, did she just say that out loud? Judging from the heated look in his eyes, the answer was yes. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife as they regarded each other.

Sitting up straight in the bed, Josh clapped his hands. "A'ight, enough of this. Come here," he growled.

She thought he would never ask. She hurried to the bed and crawled towards him. He sat up straighter and reached for her, their lips crashing together before he had finished pulling her onto his lap. All the weeks of pent-up urges and desires came pouring out of them both as they kissed like the desperate, needy souls they had become. They only pulled back long enough to take off his t-shirt before they embraced again. His bronzed skin was warm underneath her palms, the touch of his hands seemingly burning through the hoodie onto her own.

Without breaking the kiss, Josh shifted so that they were lying on their sides, helping her tug his sweatpants down his hips. Once they were gone, he pulled her tightly against him as he slid his leg between hers, draping her top leg over his waist. He then pushed his hands under her hoodie, his fingers digging into her waist to grind her against his thigh. Malia smiled at his surprised gasp, his realization that she was wearing his merch and only that. She knew he could feel the moistness of her core, smearing his upper thigh as their kisses got even more heated. She let him pull off the hoodie, and Josh's eyes blazed with need as he gathered her right breast in his hand and devoured it with sucks and licks. Meanwhile her hand wrapped around his dick, stroking for a few moments before easing him inside her.

"Oh, shit," Josh froze, his expression slightly panicked, "I ain't got-"

"Calm down, I still got my IUD. You good." She kissed his lips and reared back a little, letting him push fully inside her, and he ripped his mouth from hers in a low groan and tucked his face in her neck.

"Fuck, Malia..."

She moaned with him, gripping his muscular shoulders as he moved inside her, and groaned again when his hand scraped down her back to squeeze her ass cheek tightly.

"Mmmph..."

"Yeah, I know you like that," he whispered, slapping her ass this time, his breath hot and heavy against her face. "Say my name baby, call out for me."

"Joshua...Daddy..."

"Mm-hmm, I love it. God, you're fuckin' beautiful," he said, his voice rough with need as he tongue-kissed her slowly, matching his grinding thrusts, sending chills running all over her body.

"Ohhh," she gasped, tensing in his arms, bewildered by her desire for him.

"Relax. I gotchu," he promised with another hungry, borderline sloppy kiss. He was nearing the pit of her stomach with his lengthening strokes, but he wanted more. He held up her thick thigh, automatically sliding him even deeper inside her. A big smile lit up his face as her mouth fell open; he knew she could feel all of it, the head of his dick toying with her g-spot, her breathing quickening as her slick moisture made its presence known with every push of his dick into her.

"Hear that?" Josh whispered, "Hear how wet you are?"

Malia dug her nails into his skin, staccato breaths pulling from her lungs as he rammed up into her again and again. "Shit," she whined, "Aw fuck, please don't stop," she begged, tears gathering in her eyes at the thought of him ceasing his actions.

"I ain't stoppin' baby." He couldn't seem to stop kissing her, doing it again as he increased his speed, his dick all up in her wet pussy. The sensations were dizzying, taking her to another dimension. "Uuuunh," she cried out with a shudder, the flutter of her pussy around his cock sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

"You wanna come, babe? Wanna come for Daddy huh?" He pressed his forehead against hers, his hypnotic eyes holding her gaze as her whimpers for him grew louder. "Come, Malia," he urged with gritted teeth, his heart pounding from the emotions vibrating through him. "Come, baby girl. Nut on Daddy's dick. You look so beautiful when you come."

Malia heard what sounded like waves crashing in her ears. Immediately her body seized up, and her voice was a high-pitched cry as the pleasure ripped through her. Moaning his name repeatedly, her head fell back and she saw stars as the bliss took over.

Man, she missed being touched like this, kissed like this...fucked like this.

Still trembling, she was vaguely aware of him pulling out, letting her leg down and rolling on top of her. Stroking her face, he stared at her with a mix of wonder and tenderness and something else she couldn't quite determine in his eyes.

"What?" she pressed.

Josh licked his lips, looked away for a second and then back at her.

"I love you."

She expected to be shocked, stunned by his declaration. Instead, it felt more like a eureka moment, like she had finally cracked a passcode she had been struggling with for eons, like the world had at last righted itself after an eternity of confusion.

"What took you so long?" she asked, emotion seeping through her tone.

"I don't know," he confessed, and when her brows furrowed, he elaborated. "I just know I can't do this no more. I'm fuckin' tired. I been feelin' this way for too long. You the only one that makes me feel like this."

"Like how?" she breathed. She wanted to hear it, wanted to know if his agony has been anything similar to hers for the past couple of months.

"Like I'm empty inside when I'm not with you. Even when I'm with someone else, I feel like I'm cheating on you," he went on, suddenly feeling free, unburdened. "I can't stop thinking about you, can't function...I don't just want sex, Malia. That's all good but I wanna be your man. For real this time. I want you."

There it was again, that intensity in his eyes that never failed to steal what was left of her breath. If this was a dream, she did not want to wake up. "I love you too. I wanna be with you. Let's not break up ever again. I don't like not being around you," she admitted.

"Same here," he said, covering her mouth with his. This kiss was so passionate, so deep and all-consuming, that she struggled to hang on to her sanity. She groaned against his mouth as he found his way back inside her with a couple of swift, seamless strokes. Her wetness instantly enveloped him again, prompting his hips to roll seemingly on their own accord. Malia wound her arms around him, holding him as close to her as possible. There was no more talk after that, letting their bodies do the talking, writhing together as if they were meant to exist that way.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he told her.

Immediately, she wound them around his waist with her ankles locked tight behind his lower back as he rocked into her. She moved with him, matching his tempo in a sweet symphony. There was no space between their flesh; and whatever tiny space remained was closed off with delicious, decadent kisses with lots of tongue. They savored every second in each other, every gasp and moan they elicited from the other. Her wetness compromised the friction between them as his dick slipped in and out of her with ease that still kept her walls snug and taut around him.

"God, you feel so good, baby," she moaned in his ear, weaving her fingers through his soft hair, anchoring him to her as though fearful that he would slip away at any given moment.

"I can feel you dripping all over my dick. You make me wanna pound this good pussy," he mumbled against her neck, his tongue swiping over her heated skin.

"Then pound it," she murmured, spearing him with a hot, hungry look when their eyes met. "Pound my pussy, Daddy, I need it," she practically begged, her voice a pleading whine.

"Bet." Caressing her thighs for a few seconds, he then propped her legs on each of his broad shoulders. Her gaze met the ceiling, clouded over with lust as he hunched over her, working his big dick in her. All she could see within the bluish hue of the small room was his larger, muscular body looming over her, like a glowing, almost nightclub-like dreamscape. His chest tattoos were a beautiful mural that she couldn't stop herself from worshiping, and she leaned up to drag her tongue along his nipple, flicking the hard bud playfully as she caressed his triceps. She was rewarded with harder snaps of his hips, his balls mashing against her ass from how deep he was digging. Every time she tried to look at it, she would grow weak from the sensitivity and fall back against the bed.

"Fuck, Joshua..."

"Mmhmm, I know it feel good. Your tight little pussy is creaming for me," he rasped. Holding her down to the bed, he circled his hips while buried in her for good measure, making her pussy greedily grip the entirety of his girthy length and wringing moans of pleasure from both of them. Dipping her hand down between her thighs, she rubbed on her clit only for her eyes to roll back as an intense fire lit inside her like a firework. Then, clearly intending to destory her, he sat back on his knees and wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding them to his chest as he thrust faster and harder.

"Oh my god," Malia sighed, planting one hand up against the headboard to steady herself. She could feel her breasts bouncing recklessly with each stroke, felt his long fingers grab one and massage it in his hands, then the other, arousing her even more. His dick pulsed inside her as she tightened around him with increasing frequency. She willingly let him take her as he wanted, because she wanted to feel all of him, savor the sight of him breaking down and plunging headfirst into that secret place of pleasure that belonged to them and them alone.

The tricky part was Josh wanted to take her there first. He switched up again by pinning her knees into the pillow on either side of her head, opening her wide. He fucked her like a man possessed, the force of his movements knocking the bed hard and repeatedly against the wall. His hard, pounding thrusts had her pushing her face into the pillow and screaming into it. They hoped the room was soundproof. Either way, he didn't stop, not until the coil inside her body unraveled, and Malia screamed again as she came, hard and hot, her orgasm flushing through her like a tidal wave. It was the sweetest, the realest, the product of the joining of not just their bodies, but something deeper, too.

Josh must have been thinking the same thing, because when he stopped to stare her down again with those beautiful eyes of his, they glittered with warmth and affection. They gazed at each other, the stunned joy of their shared feelings morphing into something richer, something fiercer. He really did love her, she could see it right there on his face. She didn't quite know how she managed to miss it before.

The air between them thickened as they remembered they were still naked and entwined. Reverting back to their primal, passionate state, Josh moved again, thrusting all up in her dripping tightness. Malia gripped his hips to pull him deeper, her fingers digging into the flesh of his ass as he pounded into her with newfound ruthlessness. The mattress squeaked underneath them, mixing with their moans and whimpers and the wet slapping sounds of their bodies. He was close; his strokes became increasingly erratic, his grunts heavier and more vocal, his cock pulsing inside her pussy and his balls tightening.

"Fuuuck, I'm comin' baby, come catch this nut," he pulled out of her and quickly straddled her torso, stroking his dick in her face. Malia opened her mouth wide and poked out her tongue, watching his gorgeous face twist in painful pleasure as he unloaded in her mouth, thick spurts of his salty sweet cum flooding her tongue. Completely turned on, she rubbed herself with one hand and grabbed his dick with the other, stroking him harder to milk him to the last drop. His deep, throaty groan broke her all over again, plummeting her into another incredible orgasm, brought on by the sheer power of his.

Josh's chest heaved as he watched her slap his dick on her open tongue, coated white with his release. He then ordered in a husky voice, "Swallow it."

Malia obeyed heartily, slipping his cum down her throat then gently sucked him off for a couple of seconds, moaning softly from the unique taste of him mixed with her. Josh fought off the urge to nudge his dick deeper into her mouth and pulled away to lie down next to her. The realization of what had just happened must have hit both of them at the same time, because with one glance at each other, they burst out laughing.

"Damn," was all she had the energy to utter, allowing him to pull her against him as their joint laughter rumbled between them. He fucked the shit out of her. She felt like a brand new woman, even now, as he ran his hands all over her body, gifting her with a breathless kiss to her succulent lips. "I guess Lina's plan worked," she giggled, snuggling against him.

"Yeah," Josh agreed, his features suddenly serious as he carefully tucked a loose piece of her hair back underneath her scarf. "I ain't like how you be pushin' me away, Malia," he grumbled, "Don't be scared of us and what we got."

Not for the first time, she wished she'd been brave enough to express her true feelings. "It's not you I'm scared of... I'm scared of us falling apart if we become serious, and I don't wanna live without you," she confessed.

Josh chuckled and pressed his mouth to each of her palms. "You already can't," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and smacked his arm. "You don't gotta agree."

"It's the truth though. But like I said, I love you and I'm not going anywhere. I mean that," he promised.

Hearing those three words from him again made her feel all giddy inside. "I love you, too," she whispered, smiling softly against his lips when he dropped a tender kiss to hers.

"How long's it been since we last fucked?" he inquired.

Two months and three weeks, but who was counting? "Couple of months," she answered, keeping it cool.

"Shame on us. I think we can make up for it, right?"

Malia raised an eyebrow when he started to crawl down her body, sprinkling butterfly kisses down her belly until his head was between her legs. Her body flushed with need. "You know we need to go to bed, right?" she questioned, her fingers sneaking into his hair despite her half-hearted protest.

"I know. But this pretty pussy is callin' my name." He winked at her and bit gently on her inner thigh, dangerously close to her throbbing treasure, soothing the skin with a wet lick. Her keening moan was all he needed to hear. "Now lay your sexy ass back and let Daddy eat."

And with that, he bent his head and spread his mouth over her, wiping every rational thought she owned with mind blowing pleasure.

THE END

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

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[anisdolly]

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ quiet now, will you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: bratfem!reader x dom!modernau!anakin, dirty talking, teasing, clit play, he likes to command just a bit too much.

summary: anakin is taking you home after picking you up from your shift, and of course he is hungry as fuck. just...you're feeling bratty.

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

“h-hey!” you lament, hands quickly folding together to push the fabric of your sweater between your legs. the little fist they created stays there, pressed right between a drenched cunt, his hand and your thighs—a vain, and rather pathetic, attempt to stop your boyfriend from getting what he was craving. “h-hand away!”

it had been already a long day at work—your boss making you run from one office to the other just because her spoiled daughter wanted to read a book that wasn’t even fucking released yet. last thing you need, was anakin all over your pussy, and his car’s seat dirty. maybe you should’ve thought twice before shoving yourself into more comfortable clothes—a thick sweater that worked more as a short, barely covering dress—and keep your tailleur instead.

anakin just watches you squirm and use your only cloth as a barrier, his blue eyes gleaming with wicked delight before a low chuckle escapes his lips. his hand, determined in feeling more, comes to rest atop the hoodie mound you just created after abruptly pushing yours away, pressing down against the fabric just enough to feel the warmth and dampness underneath.

"'hand away'…" he teases mockingly, his voice resonating with that deep sound that is exclusively his. "think you got the power to make demands, princess? after i haven’t seen you for an entire day?" a playful, yet starved edge lines his words with a smirk. his fingers begin to move in a slow, deliberate circle over the hoodie, not enough to touch directly, but the implication is there—a reminder of the control he holds over your pretty body.

it gets you writhing and panting instantly, and as you wrap your hand around his wrist to try and move him away, the pressure only gets more insistent. so much, that what sounds like a tiny moan flips out of your mouth. you really thought you had the strength to push him away? tsk.

“a-ani…c-c’mon…” you cry, but your hips were betraying you by basically humping against his hand.

he simply scoffs at your pitiful wail, enjoying the friction of your core over his digits. “never this drenched. not even when i cum all over it.”

the car's engine hums and thrums to life as anakin lets his hand linger over your hidden cunt, driving you insane with the need for more in only seconds. yet, he never really gives you what you need. you were always so fucking perfect with your innocent blush and eager body—he loves how you respond to him so quickly, despite your best efforts. even if, at times, he has to push you a bit more. but it’s alright, because your pussy always spoke louder than your useless words.

anakin’s other hand grips the shifter, his knuckles white as he pulls it into reverse, his gaze finally breaking away from you to check the mirrors. his actions dual; driving the car while driving you mad, and it was an easy combination to him. probably it became a skill after all the other times he fingered you in that passenger seat, making you cum more than one time in less than six miles.

and even as he pulls out of the parking spot, he keeps his eyes on the task while his body did not—his driving smooth and practiced, while his fingers softly toy with you.

"quiet now, angel." he murmurs, licking his lips in what seems a concentrated—yet unbothered—expression. “don’t wanna be pulled over by cops while i milk my fingers, right?”

the car backs out from the parking lot and, as he finds the way to the road home, the vibrations of the moving vehicle add an entirely new layer to the torture you are already being put under. your doe eyes look like more interested in the movements of his fingertips rather than the road ahead, and your hole clutches around nothing.

and then, anakin found your clit even through all those layers of fabric, pushing a full-on moan out of your lungs. how the hell does he manage that? every fucking time?

“b-babe…please—” you grit out while your body heat increases more and more, and your soaked panties practically damp the sweater too.

"hey. told ya, quiet.” anakin commands again, this time way sterner than before. “if you can stay silent and good, maybe—maybe—you’ll get the reward you’re dripping for. but make even a little noise, and i’ll leave you wantin’ and aching all the damn way back."

his hand presses a little harder before pulling away completely, making you tremble at the loss, before it reaches for the gear shift to help drive on the dark street. "so…let’s see how good my little princess can really be, hm?"

your lover could feel the stickiness on his fingertips, highlighting his hunger. god, he could still taste the sweetness of your pussy from the previous night, and the scent of your arousal is the car made his pupils dilate. but there’s nothing more easy for anakin than to have self control when it comes to teasing you. so he stays in his seat, driving carelessly, as if his index and middle didn’t just turn you into a heated whore.

but tonight, you are having none of it. who does he think he is? making fun of you like that? after you had one of the most stressful days of the week at work, and even told him? hell the fuck no. just like he started, he was gonna make you finish.

“mmhm! no!” you huff out, your hands clutching the excessively long sleeves of your sweater before smacking right onto your thighs in frustration. “p-put it back there!” the pout on your face mixes with what seems a frown—this was a stance that you never dared to take before, but that now came automatically at his carefree demeanor and actions.

“now.”

whiny brat.

at your defiance, anakin’s sharp jaw clenches tightly and almost immediately. a surge of possessiveness tightens around his heart like a vice, the call to put you back in your damn place taking over any restraint he had been putting onto his own emotions. that sudden insistence in your voice makes him laugh dryly, simply not to reach out and pull your hair like you fucking deserved.

"ahhh, what did i say about zipping it?" his voice is a lethal purr, and his eyes, blue like shards of ice, caught yours in the review mirror. "seems someone’s already beggin’ for punishment." and as he continues to navigate the deserted streets, the silence of the night around you feels almost like an accomplice to whatever was about to happen inside that poor range rover.

but still, you don’t relent, staring right back into his eyes as your lids turn into two thin lines. “i’m not.” you respond, fists tightening even more with rage.

anakin drums his fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping sending a message of impatience as he considers your outburst with a sickening silence. with a quick glance to ensure the road is empty, he slows the car, almost to a crawl. the sudden braking gets you to jerk forward, but thankfully the seatbelt prevents you from hitting your head. it makes you yelp, though, and your eyes squeeze.

"you want it there, right? is that how you ask for something, you snappy brat?” he almost barks at you, noticing how your expression is a mixture of defiance and surprise before snapping his eyes fully back towards the road.

and then, anakin reaches over with a masterful slowness, allowing the back of his knuckles to graze across the swell of your breast through the sweater, then down your stomach, before hovering just millimeters away from your needy, aching pussy. “touch this?” the scent emanating from there is still so strong, the window couldn't air it out.

“y-yeah…” you gulp, following the path of his hand with your trembling eyes, while thinking that your little tantrum did the thing. but the next words he speaks get that smug and aroused expression off of your face just as quickly as it came.

"want me to touch your pathetic cunt? funny. you break the rules, sweet girl, you get nothin'." his voice is firm yet threaded with a dark desire. "you keep being this disobedient...hmmph, i might just have to spank that pretty ass of yours until you remember who's in charge here.” then, just as abruptly, he shifts his hand away, up to the damn shift again.

now, you think twice before humming a lament. last time he slapped your ass, you were barely able to sit.

"but if you’re good—and i mean real good—you’ll get what's coming to you. i’ll fuck your worthless hole until you're screamin', breed you until you can't think...all those dirty things you like."

“i-i’m not being—” but you don’t even manage to finish your phrase as anakin makes a hard turn, taking the rover to a more secluded area—a field just by the street, apparently empty. your nails claw at each side of your seat, trying to keep you steady, and that belt helps you once again.

he told you to be fucking quiet, why you still speaking?

the headlights illuminated the open space as he pulls over, then switches off the engine, and turns in his seat to face you properly. "fucking crybaby." anakin sneered, glaring your startled body up and down. "listen up. you've got one chance to show me how good you can be for daddy. are you gonna take it, or do i have to remind you just how hard i can make that little pussy beg for me?"

[thequeendesi]

A Werewolf

Title: A Werewolf

Alt Title: Imprinting

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader

Warnings: uhhh, none other than a mild panic attack. Reader won’t call Renesmee by her name.

Rating: PG

Summary: after growing up in Forks with your dad, your sister coming to live with you two, and the entirety of the Cullen drama, a wedding, and a life or death situation, your twin comes back home but different. And after seeing her, you become painfully aware of what really happened to her and leave only to realize you fit into her new world more than expected.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: woooooooow. So it’s been a while since I actually wrote smth and posted it! Consider this my lil welcome back. I’ve actually been so busy. I got married, I’ve started trying for a family, been babysitting kids, and death and just a whole lot of crazy. But I knew I just needed to actually write smth and finish it, and today I finally did. So please enjoy, requests are open and as always; I love yall 🩷

———

“Where are you going Dad?” You asked, looking up from your phone. You leaned against the armrest on the couch, your legs spread across the cushions. “To see Bella. She’s back in town.” He said, almost sounding confused in his statement. “Bella’s home? She didn’t call me.” You narrowed your eyebrows, turning off your phone. “I want to go.” You stood up, slipping your feet into your house shoes.

“Dressed like that?” Your dad asked, crossing his arms as he looked at you in your pajamas. “I’m not trying to impress the Cullen’s. I’m trying to interrogate them.” You crossed your arms, taking a second glance at yourself in the reflection of the tv. Unbothered by your sweatpants, tank top and robe. “How did she go from the brink of death, to moving far away to; she’s fine and can stay?” You narrowed your eyebrows. “It makes no sense. Dad, you're a cop! You’re not questioning anything?”

“I don’t know, I’m not questioning it. I’ve gotten… enough answers these last few days.” Your father ran a hand down his face. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing just…” He sighed. “Nothing. If that’s what you’re wearin’, let’s go.” He opened the door, grabbing the keys off the key rack.

You nodded, and headed outside, hearing him close and lock the door behind you. “And Jake...” He added, getting into the driver seat. “Jake? How is he tied into this?” You narrowed your eyebrows, getting into the passenger seat and buckling up.

“Another thing we don’t need to get into.”

“Something we do. Why’re you keeping secrets from me? That was Bella and mom’s thing.” You crossed your arms. “I’m not keeping secrets. I don’t know things.” He pulled out of the driveway and began driving towards Jake's. “Everything that’s going on? I don’t know. Other than Jake is a dog. And not a figurative dog. I mean the kid I’ve seen his entire life turn into a dog.” He said, almost bewildered to be saying it outloud.

“A… dog.” You nodded. “Bella had to have known. What else is going on in this town?” Your dad muttered to himself, parking in Jake’s yard.

You watched as the door swung open and out piled a handful of men. Some you remembered from when Jake brought you over, but after sometime last year you hadn’t gotten an invitation back. You couldn’t help but think it was tied to Bella.

You felt your heart pound as your eyes landed on one of the men, who was staring you down. All noises fell to soft murmurs for a second.

Your eyes continued glued to him as you snapped back into reality by feeling your dads truck move back down the road. Only until his frame was out of view did you turn around to look at Jake. “Start talking. When did you become a dog?” You asked, reminded of your previous mission: to interrogate.

Jake’s eyes shot to your dad. “Look at me.” You stated, grabbing his face to tug it your way. What used to be easy, your hand slipped off his face as his face didn’t move at all. “Do you remember when Cullen left Bella and you came to a bonfire?” He asked you.

“Yeah. Edweird left, you took me to a bonfire because she kept screaming all night and I needed a break and i heard about the legends about wolves and…” You paused. “No way…” you looked down momentarily, before looking back up at him. “The cold ones?” You asked, recalling another conversation you two had. “The Cullen’s.” He answered.

Your dads eyes shifted from the rear view mirror to you as he silently drove. “I just can’t believe it.” You turned back around in your seat, trying to ignore the painful pull in your chest.

“So… why are you coming with us to go see Bella? What aren’t you telling us? She’s not pregnant, is she?” You laughed a little bit, before turning in your seat to look at him again. “Is she?” You repeated.

“No. There’s a daughter. And um… I am her guardian protector.” He cleared his throat. “A daughter? They’ve been married for a month. That’s…” you scoffed, looking out of the window. ”apart of the weird shit you have going on.” You shook your head.

Charlie sighed as he parked the vehicle. “We’re here.” He half chuckled, looking at you. Your eyes met his, noticing his deeper bags under his eyes and stress lines in his middle forehead.

You opened your door and got out. The air felt still, almost scary. You crossed your arms, your hands holding sides of your robe as you walked up the steps to the front door.

“Creepy ass house…” you raised your hand to knock on the door, but stopped as Jacob walked straight in, Charlie following behind him. You sighed and dropped your hand, following behind them.

“Where’s Bella?” Your dad asked Carlisle. You crossed your arms as the man looked at you and your father, before gesturing down the hallway to where she was. “I wasn’t expecting you as well, (Name).” He smiled gently at you. “It’s my twin.” You responded plainly.

You followed your father and Jake.

“Hey.” Bella said. Your face finally softened as you saw her. “Bella. Are you ok?” You quickly cut your father off, moving close to examine her. Your eyebrows quickly knit themselves as you gathered… an overall off vibe from her.

“Never better. Healthy as a horse.” She laughed a little. “You… don’t turn into an animal too, do you?”

Bella smiled, her eyes shifting to Jake quickly before shaking her head.

Edward patted Jake’s shoulder gently, leaving the room. “Let’s give these three some privacy.” Jacob nodded, following behind Edward.

“Bella, I just don’t understand.” You pushed your hair from your face, beginning to pace. “You’re…” you looked at your dad, then at her. “You. But you’re not.” You gestured at her.

“I’m okay, (Name).” She said, trying to ease you. Scoffing, you readjusted your robe. “Did you just wake up?” She asked, trying to joke. “No. I just graduated high school, I’m enjoying early adulthood unemployment.”

”I need to know what happened to you.” Your dad stated, finally speaking up. “No.” Bella shook her head. “We need an explanation.”

“If you need one, I can’t stay.” Bella looked away from your dads eye contact. “No. No more going away!” Your dad spoke up.

“Just trust me. I’m alright. I’m more than alright. Can you live with that?”

Your dad scoffed. “I just watched a kid I knew his whole life turn into a very large dog.” He gestured to your twin, “my daughter looks like my daughter… but doesn’t.”

“Just trust me… I’ll tell you what you need to know.” Her gaze fell to you, knowing you knew. “And I don’t need to know this?”

“No… really, you don’t.” She shook her head. “Well… I’m not going to lose you again. I can’t.”

“You won’t. I promise.” Bella persisted.

You felt tears well in your eyes as you looked at the door way, avoiding Bella’s hug with your dad. “I missed you bells… so much.” You heard as your dad fought the tears.

A soft coo and footsteps entered the room as you exited. Your heartbeat racing as you trail down the hallway.

Opening the front door, you finally let go of the pained gasp of air you held in the back of your throat. You walked forward until you could lean against the handrail you stared into the forest. Millions of thoughts racing through your mind, but a few yelled loudly on top of the others.

Your sister is a vampire, married a vampire, probably had some weird half vampire kid, and your sisters in laws are a group of vampires.

“(Name).” Edward called to you. Closing the door behind him. “You’re not going to turn me too, are you?” You asked sarcastically.

“Uh, no.” He said softly, stepping forward to stand next to you. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to say anything. You held your hand up. “I’m not going to say anything.” You shook your head, putting your hand back down. “But it explains everything.” You sighed.

“Her name is Renesmee.” Edward stated. “Who?” You narrowed your eyebrows. “Your niece.” He answered. “So you two did have sex before marriage.” You laughed slightly.

“No.” He shook his head. “We didn’t expect it… her.” Edward corrected himself. “She came as a surprise. She’s a week old and looks six months.” He shook his head.

“I don’t mean to sound rude,” you started, pushing yourself off of the handrail. “But learning about… what I learned today, was enough. I’m sorry, but I’ll meet Ragnorak another time.” You stated, moving past him to step off of the porch. “Where are you going?” Edward asked, watching your movements. “I don’t know.” You shrugged, throwing your hands up as you began to walk into the woods.

The dusk fell quickly as the sounds of nature filled your ears. Before Bella moved back to live with your dad and you, woods used to be your solace. You used to tell anyone who’d listen, you knew the woods of Forks, better than any of the people.

“Are you lost?” You heard a low pitched voice call out into the woods. You turned your head where the voice was coming. A tall man stood under a tree, deep red eyes staring into your soul, his hand resting against it as he leaned into it. “Pretty girls shouldn’t walk in the forest alone.” He stared, his voice suddenly in your ear.

“Get away from me.” You stepped back from him.

“I wouldn’t try running.” He stated firmly, his hands finding your wrists. “You can try. But it wouldn’t work.” He said, almost giggling a little.

“Let me go!” You shouted, attempting to pull out of his cold grip.

“Shhh… it’ll be over soon. You’re not the Swan I was intending but you’ll do.” He shrugged, letting go of your wrists. “But tell you what. I’ll give you a ten second head start… one…”

Turning around, you quickly ran down the cleared path, looking around for help.

“Nine… ten!” The vampire shouted behind you. Like thunder roaring, you heard running from multiple directions. You turned around to see the vampire still.

You gripped your robe as you noticed four insanely large wolves began circling the vampire. Loud slaps against the earth behind you roared as a dark grey wolf jumped over your head in front of the vampire.

Falling back, you winced as you back hit the root of the tree. A loud howl came from the largest wolf, whose fur was so dark you were surprised you could even see him in the dark.

You could feel the terror the vampire was feeling as the wolves circled him. Snarling, growling, barking to each other.

You pulled yourself up, turning your back as you heard the vampire scream in agony, before silence.

You noticed as your breath wouldn’t catch, your heart beat working overtime, your incessant shaking. You coughed as you tried to catch a breath, throwing your robe to the ground as you felt it suffocating you.

You cried out as you sat back onto the ground, your body shaking. “Oh my god…” you muttered, repeating it over and over. Your hands covering your face as you rocked yourself.

A soft whine came near you as the large grey wolf lowered himself to lay on the ground next to you. Your erratic breathing slowed as you peeked through your fingers to watch him move his paw from underneath him to help him lay to his side. Your eyes moved to the wolf’s, who made a small motion with his head for you to lean into him.

You closed your eyes and leaned over, your face meeting the soft fur, before fully laying into the wolf. You felt yourself relax as your breathing and heart rate began to calm as well as you listened to the wolf’s. Which sounded surprisingly calm despite what just happened.

You removed your hands from your face and rested them in your lap as you tried to regulate yourself.

After a couple of minutes, you sat up, looking at the wolf who was already staring you down intently.

“This is a part of Jake’s thing… isn’t it?” You asked the wolf, almost expecting it to answer. You held back a gasp as it nodded.

“(Name).” You turned around, meeting Sam’s gaze not realizing he was behind you . “You know?” He asked, but it was more of a statement. You nodded. He nodded back. “Paul.” He looked at the wolf.

A silent conversation was said between the two, and Paul stood up. “I’m having him take you to the rez. There’s things you need to know.” Sam said, his tone thick with dominance, reaching his hand out to you.

You nodded, taking it as he helped you to your feet. You looked at Paul as he kneeled beside you. You silently mounted him, leaning forward to steady yourself, grabbing fistfuls of his fur to keep hold.

He looked towards the other wolves who moved back into the shadows before running towards the reservation.

You listened to the fire crackle as you braid your damp hair. Emily, Sam’s wife, offered you a shower after coming in, which you greatly accepted.

“I’m glad the clothes fit.” She said, sitting next to you on the bench.

You nodded. “Thank you again.” You said, securing your braid with a hair tie and tossing it over your shoulder. “You’re welcome.” She smiled, looking at the fire.

“I’m guessing you know about the wolf thing?” You asked. “I’m very familiar with it.” She laughed softly. “And the vampire thing?”

“Well… when you believe in werewolves, vampires aren’t a stretch.” She shrugged a little. “You found out about the Cullen's?” She asked, looking at you.

You nodded a little. “I did. I have a niece too, who I completely blew off meeting today because finding out a childhood best friend turns into the world’s largest dog, your sister and her in-laws are all vampires was just a bit much.” You sighed.

“Your wrists are bruised.” Emily said softly, gingerly touching the finger bruises on your wrists.

“Thankfully the leech who did that is dead.” Sam’s voice cut into the conversation.

He sat across from the two of you, a slightly shorter, but still very tall man sat next to you. “I can’t stress how important it is that you keep all of this a secret. Not even Charlie can know.” Sam said.

“Who’s going to believe me even if I said anything?” You asked. “I wasn’t planning on saying anything to begin with. I’m honestly regretting taking this gap year, because I wouldn’t know any of this if I was in college. I think I’m actually going to move to my mother’s, actually, because apparently Forks is something a horror movie should’ve been shot at instead of people living here.”

Sam shook his head. “Paul imprinted on you.” Sam said. “Imprinted?” You asked, narrowing your eyebrows

“What’s imprinting?” You asked, looking at Paul. Sam and Emily stood and left, giving you space to get answers from Paul.

“It means you’re my mate. It’s like my center of gravity has been shifted to you. It’s no longer about my life. It’s about being yours. Your protector, your friend, your family. I’m permanently bound to you. A soulmate. I’m yours, until the end of time.” Paul finally spoke. “It’s like feeling in a bubble your entire life seeing everything warped until it’s right in front of you, then it pops. And everything’s clear and it’s the clearest it’s ever been. And you have room to run, jump, and touch. And you want to dedicate everything to this thing that popped your bubble.” He explained, his eyes never leaving yours. His words embed themself in you, igniting a small flame in your heart.

You nodded, silently acknowledging his words. “My sister and I have always been complete opposites… it’d make sense her real love is a vampire and mine is supposed to be a werewolf.” You leaned your head against Paul’s shoulder.

He moved his arm behind your head and rested on your shoulder as you leaned into him further. “And you fight vampires all the time?” You asked, attempting to get details from him.

“Not all the time. Time to time.” He answered.

“What makes the Cullen’s different?”

“Nothing in my eyes. But, our pack has a treaty with them. As long as they don’t pose a threat to the humans, they’re safe to live another day.”

“And what happened to Bella wasn’t a threat?”

“No. She wanted her lifestyle. We had to accept it. Then we had to accept their baby because Jacob imprinted on her.”

“Jacob imprinted on Renaissance?”

“I thought her name was Renesmee… anyways. Yes, but it’s not what you think. He’ll be her protector until she decides she’s ready to be his mate.” He answered. “Weird.”

“Do you go into the woods all the time?”

“Not as often.” You shook your head, enjoying the warmth. “I couldn’t stay out of them as a kid.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Lahote.”

“Nice to know that my eventual last name will be.” You half joked. “We just met and you’re already thinking of marriage?” He laughed a little. “If we’re going to be together until the end of time, I don’t think it’s crazy to think about marriage. Apparently women in my family thrive off of getting married before the frontal lobe is fully formed.”

“We don’t have to until you want to.” He said. “As long as we’re boyfriend and girlfriend from now until then.”

“What happened to a first date?”

“My kind typically skip into straight exclusivity.” Paul shrugged. “Normally after we have the ‘I imprinted on you’ talk, the ‘when are you moving in’ talk comes pretty quick.” You heard a small chuckle at the end of his sentence.

“Oh really? Well, I guess moving to my mom’s isn’t happening anytime soon?” You teased, looking up at him. “Hopefully not.” He smiled a little.

“I guess the hardest part going forward is explain to my dad I’m dating a dog.”

“Wolf. Dogs are wolves' sad and lame cousins.”

[ghostchems]

I love your writing so so much <3 so glad your inbox is open right now- could you write a lil something something about Terzo being all loopy after getting his wisdom teeth removed..I feel like that would be make me smile :,)

/miserable anon recovering from wisdom tooth surgery

author���s note: anon… i know you are most likely HOPEFULLY not still suffering from wisdom teeth recovery anymore as this has been in my askbox forever but… here ya go! so sorry it took so long!

You're not quite sure how this task fell to you, but here you are in the waiting room of an oral surgeon. The *Anti-Pope* is undergoing wisdom teeth removal, and you're his designated ride back to the abbey. Lucky you, right? The responsibility feels almost too weighty for an assistant's assistant, but you're determined to do a good job. Your foot taps nervously against the carpet as your eyes dart between the empty seats, the door, and reception.

“You can go back now." One of the nurses calls out to you, and you spring to your feet, eager to assist your Papa as quickly as possible. You push the door open and gasp at the sight before you. Papa Emeritus the Third sits in his full papal regalia—minus the mitre—with an ice pack strapped to his head and cheeks stuffed with gauze. He lifts one gloved hand and waves at you cheerfully, uttering incomprehensible, muffled noises. You blink a few times and wave back, stunned.

The surgeon grumbles a few instructions for recovery — salt water rinses and soft foods — before leaving you to collect Papa.

“Youff have fhree eyes.” He points intently at your face.

"Uh... come on, Papa, let's get you up." You extend your hand to him, still processing his bizarre statement. His gaze remains fixed on your forehead—exactly where a third eye might be—as he grasps your hand and unsteadily rises to his feet. He drapes an arm around your waist for support, leaning into you while continuing to study your face with curious intensity.

“Pretty,” he murmurs with another wide smile. You blush and decide you have to get him out of here as soon as possible. You’re able to get him through the waiting room and out of the building without any trouble… until you reach the car. “Youff wan’ me to geddin there?!” Papa starts to weakly fight you but he has zero coordination. You’re able to keep him steady next to the car door.

“Please, Papa. Don’t you want to go back to the Abbey?” You ask in a sweet voice with just a touch of exasperation.

“Ice creaaam?” Absolutely not the answer to your question but he perks up as he says it. You blink at him a few times.

“Shouldn’t you wait to eat something?”

“No, noooo. Dofctor said.” He crosses his arms matter of factly. Another beat passes. Papa is being utterly adorable and difficult, far different than his usual suave and unbothered persona. You wonder if this is because of the drugs or if deep down he is really like this away from the limelight.

“How about we pick up some ice cream on the way back?” You are under strict instruction to bring him straight back to the abbey but… but when the Anti-Pope asks for ice cream *you give him ice cream.* “We need to follow doctor’s orders, after all.”

Papa smiles as best he can with all the gauze in his mouth and then pushes past you to get into the passenger seat. You scurry to the driver’s side, not wanting him to mess around with my car while in there alone. If anything, you’ve at least figured out he can’t be left to his own devices in this state.

Papa Emeritus fiddles with the radio buttons, singing along to a tune only he can hear. His head lolls against your shoulder as you drive. You can't help but smile to yourself. Perhaps this isn't so bad after all.

The cool leather of his gloves grazes your arm as he gestures wildly to his imaginary melody. You're torn between focusing on the road and sneaking glances at this endearing, unguarded version of the usually composed Anti-Pope. The ice cream shop comes into view and he presses his face against the window, leaving a smudge of white face paint. You can't help but chuckle at the sight.

It's refreshing to see him so carefree, even if it's drug-induced. He was always charming and light in the face of a grueling schedule and the responsibilities tbat sit atop his shoulders but this is far different. Your mind continues to wander as the car comes to a stop in the parking lot.

“Okay, Papa, we are here. What kind of ice cream would you like?”

He's not listening. Instead, he's trying his best to open the car door. You've made sure it's locked, and thankfully, he's just pulling the handle rather than fiddling with the lock.

“Now, now, Terzo. You can’t go in there like this, can you? I will bring it back for you. Promise.”

Papa's eyes widen comically, and he pouts behind the gauze. "Bufft.. thee ice *cream*," he mumbles, his gloved hands gesturing dramatically. You can't help but smile at his childlike persistence. Sighing softly, you realize you'll have to compromise to keep him happy and cooperative.

"Okay, Papa, how about this? I'll go in and get the ice cream, but you can choose the flavor from here. What would you like?" You try to sound enthusiastic, hoping to appease him.

Papa's mismatched eyes light up at this suggestion, and he claps his hands together excitedly. "Twifst. Wiff *sprinkles*,” he exclaims through the gauze, his voice muffled but unmistakably gleeful. You can't help but chuckle at his childlike enthusiasm, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

You nod, suppressing a grin at his specific request. "Twist with sprinkles it is, Papa. I'll be right back." You give his arm a gentle pat and watch his lips curve into a sweet smile, cheeks still stuffed with gauze. With one last glance, you exit the car, immediately locking the doors behind you. As you walk towards the entrance, you peek over your shoulder. There's Papa, waving enthusiastically. You shake your head, amused, and enter the ice cream shop. The cool air inside is a welcome respite from the warm day outside.

"One twist cup with sprinkles, please," you say to the cashier, who nods and begins preparing the order. It takes a second for them to make his ice cream, completing it with a nice loop at the top. You pay out of your own pocket and grab some napkins and a spoon. With the cup in hand, you hurry back to the car. To your relief, Papa is right where you left him, his face pressed against the window, eyes wide with anticipation. You unlock the door and slide into the driver's seat, presenting the ice cream with a flourish.

"Here you go, Papa. Twist with sprinkles, just as you requested."

Papa's eyes light up, and he reaches for the cup with both hands. "Fank you," he mumbles through the gauze, already trying to maneuver the ice cream past his swollen cheeks.

“Hold on a second,” you murmur, handing him the spoon. He gives a sigh of relief, taking it from you and very carefully beginning to eat his ice cream.

You start the car and pull out of the parking lot, unable to help but smile at the contented sounds coming from the passenger seat. Papa Emeritus the Third, the Anti-Pope himself, happily enjoying his ice cream cone like a child on a summer day. It's a moment you know you'll cherish.

With a soft sigh, you turn onto the road that leads back to the abbey.

[alexiavettel]

Ten things I hate about you

pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k+

warnings: age gap, explicit language, allusions to sex, drinking, mentions to death, motorsport accident, angst sometimes, rbr mentions (ew), Horner mentions (he’s not the bad here), no use of Y/n, Daniel Ricciardo is a walking cliché (it’s actually cute for me) and Michael and Scottie are actually babies. 

summary: The ten reasons why you hate Daniel Ricciardo through the years. But remember, the line between hate and love is thin, be careful…

I hate the way you talk to me,

“What are you doing here kid? This is an adult RedBull party, you shouldn’t be here”

“Shut up Ricciardo, I deserve to be here as much as you”

“For being the boss daughter? Wow how deserving!” 

“And what are you doing here? I thought you jumped off last year”

“Y’know gal once you go Danny Ric you never want to go back, your daddy likes me so here I am”

“Dear god, I thought that after you were a coward and moved to Renault I would never have see you again out of the paddock” 

“You don’t what you’re talking about, girl” the older man towers over you in the corner of the saloon.

“So unbothered until someone call you coward, right? You’re childish Ricciardo, that’s what you are”

She hates when he calls her kid. 

and the way you cut your hair.

“Oh my god what have you done, cowboy?” 

“Liked the new cut, golden girl?”

“Wow stopped calling me kid, it’s a significant development Ricciardo”

“Want me to come back calling you kid? ‘Cause I don’t mind”

“Shut up, and to be honest no. I don’t like it, the new cut just shows your age better you’re almost going bald man be careful” you said laughing.

“What wait really?”

“Your hairline looks like circuit corners, to be honest. But hear my wise words big boy, let it grow more than you’re used to. Curls look good on you”

Daniel always have his curls looking good now. 

I hate the way you drive my car.

“C’mon girl, you drunk too much” 

“OH DANIEL! What are you doing here, handsome?!” you might had a little too much long island iced teas

“M’gonna take you home, come on” he took your both hands and led you to the exit

“What about my car? She’s my precious daughter I can’t leave Daisy alone!”

“You named your car? You scare me sometimes little girl… You’re lucky I took an Uber, ‘gimme the keys” 

“Don’t talk about Daisy like that!” you drunkenly shouted in the parking lot

“You’re joking you drive a manual! You have a fucking Supra what are you? Brian O’Conner?” he put you in the passenger seat and belt you on.

“Not like you’re not a fucking formula one driver, huh? Lucky me! And don’t talk about Daisy like t-that she’s purple not orange like in fast and furious” He just rolled his eyes and started driving.

“Didn’t know you could drive, even more a manual”

“You say that because you never saw me drifting”

They spend the next night drifting in an empty parking lot. 

I hate it when you stare.

“What are you looking at mate?” Nico asked the younger man

“N-Nothing” he stopped staring at you across the paddock

“Hmm ‘nothing’ right? The ‘nothing’ you mentioned is that one covered in Red Bull merch staring back smiling right now?” Daniel immediately looked back searching for your smile but just found you laughing at one of Albon’s jokes.

She felt his eyes burning into her, she always did. 

I hate your big dumb combat boots,

“Ouch! Daniel!” You shouted after he stepped on your foot in the middle of a dinner at your dad’s house with some friends, former drivers. 

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean it” he gently caressed your hair with an apologising smile 

“Okay but why the fuck are you wearing combat boots? It’s a dinner Dan, I thought you had a better sense of style”

“Sorry darling it’s not about the boots, it’s my big feet and y’know what they say-“

“Shut up, Ricciardo”

He gifted her a pair of combat boots on her birthday. She wears it at every opportunity. 

and the way you read my mind.

“Stop. Stop thinking too much” he caressed your cheek 

“But I am not-“

“Yes you are, I can almost hear your thoughts and I know they are plenty. Just don’t make a big deal out of it, if you want to stop and pretend I never kissed you we can do it…”

“No-"

He kissed her goodbye that night, and did it almost all the others nights too. 

I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme.

“I have something for you… I asked Michael to put it in your driver's room” you quietly whispered while passing through him in the McLaren hospitality 

“Late valentines' gift, darling?” he said laughing.

“Maybe…”

You were scared of being a little too fast, but it was inevitable. You hate the things he makes you feel.

When the man found the sunflowers in his bed he was beyond surprised. But the two letters between the yellow fresh plants made a glint appear in his eyes. The first one had “about you and me” written down in the envelope. 

“I have sat upon the seashore

and washed away my fears.

I have lived so many days now

that they are turning into years.

I have walked up in mountains.

I have splashed around in streams.

I have conjured up ideas

that have moulded into dreams.

I have seen a thousand faces

And I've matched a thousand smiles.

I have been to so many places

that I'm losing count of miles.

I have heard the wind, so gently,

cause the trees to creak and moan,

but I have never felt a heart

as perfect as your own”

And the second one had “about your eyes” written down in brown tint. 

“You hated your eye colour,

called it a dull and dirty brown

Wished for the deep blue of an ocean,

where admirers hearts would drown

And it pained me when I realised,

you'd never see it like I do

The way your eyes hint a story,

that I want to read right through

They hold specks of stolen sunlight,

that you'd miss with just one glance

And a depth of raw emotion,

that can freeze you in a trance

They're a fix of melted chocolate,

when I'm craving something sweet

But hold a gaze that's so unwatering,

that I find it hard to meet

I fall right down the rabbit hole,

when I look into your eyes

The brown of earth's unfettered beauty,

that I yearn to memorise

When I was tired of not belonging,

they made me feel like I'd been found

And I hope you never say again,

That your eyes are simply brown.”

He even posts pics of his eyes now.

I hate it, I hate the way you’re always right.

“You need to stop running away! You want to end this or not? You want to keep hiding us from your dad like an afraid little kid? I do EVERYTHING to be with you but in the moment it gets a ‘little too real’ you run! That’s what you always do!” Daniel never screamed at you but today has been an exception.

“You don’t understand, Daniel! It’s not just my dad, it’s a lot more complicated than that!-” you mourn sitting in the sofa

“What? Have you realised that I am ‘too old’ for you? That you are wasting your time with me? That the public and your family will criticise us?”

“You are not old for me, babe… But they will speak y’know? I hate the media speculating about me with every single driver, but what if that damages your future in another team? What if your fans start treating you differently alleging that you ‘groomed’ me since we have known each other since I was 18? What if-” you started walking towards him

“You are too much worried about me, darling. Think about yourself. Think about us, how happy we make each other. I know you’re scared, babe… But that is what would make me happier. We can wait how much you want but I’m scared too. I’m scared you’re going to leave me for someone better, you have so many options it just doesn't make sense why you chose me…” he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and caressed your cheek after

“I am never leaving you. I am just scared” his eyes gave you the comfort you were looking for, that you always searched

“But love is scary. Specially after we couldn't even tolerate each other and now we are, this” he pointed between you “I have fears and more fears with you, but our love is bigger than all of them. If you want to be with me, for real, you also have to learn to surpass your fear. We are a team, darlin’”

He was right. He always is.

I hate it when you lie.

“You are a fucking asshole, Daniel!” You shouted after closing his door.

“I am sorry-”

“No you don’t! You could’ve died, Daniel for god’s sake. You could’ve died and I would only know after receiving a hospital’s call. You lied to me, you promised ages ago that you would never… I don’t understand, like I really don’t.”

“Darling, listen-”

“Daniel, I can't hear your voice right now. It’s making me angrier and I don’t want to act irrationally”

“Can I just explain why I lied?”

“Now? No. Please go away, I really need to think. Alone.”

You don’t understand, he had a car accident during the testing for the 2021 season and said it was nothing much. You watched everything on tv and didn’t looked too bad, but you were worried either way. The g forces are too much sometimes, but he swore he was fine. Long story short, he was not. He literally disappeared for more than 24 hours and you were looking up plane tickets to Bahrain when Michael called you telling what happened.

When Daniel crashed a part of his helmet was broken, and his head hit the neck support. Obviously could’ve been worse, but the amount of blood that came out of him was scary. Michael send you some pics after you almost threatened him of death, he explained that Daniel had only a small opening in his neck. And he was conscious enough after the crash to get out of the car, message you and go walking to the medic station. But unfortunately one blood vessel has been hit in the process and he was having an internal haemorrhage.

The thing is, he was notified before the surgery and he answered your call saying that “I am completely fine darling, just gotta do some exams and gonna be back to sleep in the hotel in some hours. Don’t worry, I love you” the first time he really said those words, and could’ve been the last. 

She said I love you back. And took care of him until he was good to go back.

I hate it when you make me laugh, 

“Oh my fucking god, Daniel! My dad is going to kill us” you said laughing after being thrown in your father’s pool with Daniel. His Monza win meant more to you two than you had expected.

“He can kill me if he wants, but it was worthy. At least I’m going to die happy. I could die happy whenever I’m with you” he kissed you messily. 

“So cheesy, Dan ew. But if you really meant it, I hope it’s going to take a bit more to your death ‘cause I have no plans of ever leaving you”

“And I am the cheesy one-?”

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE DOING HERE?” Oh that must be your dad… oops?

He always loved her laugh, even when they hated each other… The sound of her laugh always was the closest thing to heaven, for him.

even worse when you make me cry.

“1st task: word search, find your gift.”

No fucking way, Ricciardo. You say “I’m sad” in one day, and in the next you wake up with this note in the bed. The only possible answer in this messy word search was office. When you got to his office desk a box of chocolates was waiting for you, with another note, this time in the format of a heart.

“2nd task: i need to be fixed, what am i?”

Just could be the wardrobe door, that shit almost knocked you up one day. Just right, honey. You found a little cute poem with another note.

“I don't want a fairytale

ending with you.

I want to be there

to help you face

your fears and 

to help you overcome

your failures.

I want to give you

the kind of love

that's not distorted

and fabricated,

but real, raw

and honest.”

“3rd task: complete the sentence, w__r_  __  _ s_en_  m__e  __me  on  _ho_e?”

With an embarrassing amount of time, you discovered to be “where do I spend more time on phone?” and that must be the main bathroom. In the mirror lipstick were marking the words

“4th task: i am in your most peaceful place”

with a little flower in the end. There’s only one place.

When you opened the wooden door that separates the living room from the garage and garden you felt tears burning your eyes. Daniel were sitting in the garden with sunflowers, picnic basket, plenty of fruits, drinks and food in general. 

“Sorry about the lipstick I used an old one and I swear I’m gonna clean after and-”

“You’re the most cheesy, cliche and argh I don’t even know what to- I fucking hate loving you!” How could you get so lucky? This 5’10’’ aussie, who has the biggest smile, loudest laugh, the best hug ever and seems like his life mission is making you the happiest person alive.

“Darling, don’t cry please! I hate when you cry!” he walked over you

“You were the one that made me cry!” you laughed sniffing giving a kiss in his cheek

“Eh… I might actually have one more thing…”

“What? I don’t think you can surprise or make me cry even more-” you said cleaning away your tears.

“Surprise!” You were wrong. Definitely wrong. Inside the picnic basket instead of more food was a little dog puppy, which couldn’t even open his eyes properly in this light. They furr shined in the sunlight, nose slightly scrunched and tail faintly moving side to side.

She thought the first time she would cry for a man, that it’s not her dad, would be after a heartbreak not for a cliché surprise.

I hate it when you’re not around.

“I’m sorry, babe. I promise after this work I’m gonna get on the first plane to you, and then we can enjoy my summer break together. I swear”

That was the third time he said it, the only time he promised tho. It’s hard to get that much time to spend with your boyfriend, and then he still works in his holidays.

He did what he promised but after 3 days. 3 whole days of his absence, it’s different when he’s in the paddock. At least you got a bit of him, the good morning and good night texts, facetime before sleeping and the most important thing of your life: your dog.

When he is not around, she feels like the loneliest person in the world.

and the fact you didn’t call.

It has been a while since that happened but you still remember how the feeling was. The feeling of being just a piece of meat, just drunk sex, a replacement, an embarrassment or worst, a regret.

Your first time with Daniel was after his win in Monaco, 2018. Both drunk not only in tequila and whiskey but in lust. To be honest you don’t remember much of this night, but you remember him. And he remembers you. His hands were imprinted on your curves. Your fingers tangled in his hair. When you woke up in an empty bed, in a hotel room that was not yours. You remembered all too well.

You remembered that he didn’t call. You remembered that he ignored you in the garage and the paddock. When you finally got to ask (you sneaked into his driver’s room) why he was running he admitted “I just can’t even think when you are around now! All I have is memories when I look at you, and that makes me fucking mad! It makes me wanna hate you more but also makes me wanna kiss you more and fuck you more and I can’t! We shouldn’t. It’s wrong. I assume the responsibility, I’m sorry”

That was the first and last time he didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,

Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“So you hate loving me? Relax I hate loving you too” Daniel gave his characteristic laugh after you finished saying your poem at the end of your wedding vows.

•

“We are a team, in this life and all the others". That was the end of his vows, you could see he was shaking the entire time. You risk it looking at Michael and Scottie (obviously the best men) and they were crying like babies, pretty much more than you. 

“See why I hate loving you, Ricciardo” you mentioned cleaning your tears half laughing and you could hear the guests laughing with you. 

“You’re a Ricciardo now too, darlin’”

“You can kiss the bride now”

This was not the end. She still hates Daniel, everything about him, but especially, how much he was easy to love. He promised they were a team and he will always deliver on that, the love of this life of his and all the others too.

@laura-naruto-fan1998 enjoy <3

my taglist!!

[cuttleimagines]

𝙱𝚊𝚕𝚍𝚞𝚛'𝚜 𝙶𝚊𝚝𝚎 3 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜: 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚁𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚁𝚊𝚐𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜?

Also yay! First post! <3

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚖𝚊𝚘𝚘

Contains: Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Shadowheart, Lae'zel, Karlach, Halsin, Minsc, Jahiera, and Minthara

BEST:

Minsc:

Minsc has literally no room for road rage and he knows it. He is by far the worst driver out of all the companions.

Not ONLY that, but he literally has a hamster therapist to bond with about the drivers around him

He’d see someone literally fucking street racing and have the most content face on

“Ah, Boo, he must be late for his appointment. I would’ve done the same in his shoes.🤷‍♂️”

Minsc is going below the speed limit all the time because honestly he’s just happy to be there.

If he ever gets hit he’ll settle for a quick conversation about trading insurances but will probably just get it fixed later and forget about it

People get mad at him but he’s so unbothered lmao

We love Minsc in this household he has the best non existent road rage.

Wyll:

Is strangely always calm at the wheel, a very courteous driver like Minsc but more softcore

waves at people to go even when he has the right of way so he gets pushed around a lot on the road lmao

The only way I can see him getting fed up is if it happens back to back and someone almost fucking kills him 😭 which is honestly the bottom of the fucking barrel

Honestly he just questions whether or not people actually USE their fucking mirrors to LOOK and SEE if anyone's there BEFORE they merge

Purposefully REFUSES to tailgate even a little bit because he can't be asked to rear end somebody because they brake-checked him.

It's very rare he ever reacts negatively at all, just kinda goes "Okay, people aren't always going to be the smartest, perhaps they're still learning."

Wyll, baby, they're driving a dingy pickup truck with a customized muffler 💀

Honestly if you ever ride passenger with this guy, you're probably gonna be getting mad FOR him because he just doesn't react to people genuinely being stupid on the road.

Overall, just a "get through it and move on" type of driver

Halsin:

If anyone's ever sitting passenger with him you're lucky because you get to fucking pass out on long car trips and not worry about whether or not mans is gonna fall asleep at the wheel or crash.

VERY good driver, probably the best out of all of the other companions

Type of person to flash at someone or wave at them if their gas door is open or something's falling off their car

Like Wyll, a pretty courteous driver, but gets a little annoyed if people don't give him the right of way when it's his turn

Does a little eyebrow quirk whenever someone cuts him off but ends up turning into an "I pity the new drivers of this generation" speech

If people are being dumb back to back he probably needs to pull over and just take a hot minute before getting back on the road

Overall, though, he tries to be civil and not let his anger get the better of him

Gale:

Is probably the funniest when it comes to the mild version of road rage

"I didn't realize turn signals were growing out of style, considering nobody seems to use them."

"Wow! Look how much progress you made!" He says to the car that sped past him only to get one car ahead in the busy lane

"The light is green, sir! You accelerate when the light turns green! A common mistake, I know!"

"Do you think this poor lad knows you yield to turn right on a red and don't wait for the light to turn green? The education system has most definitely gone downhill nowadays, let me tell you."

Talks a lot of shit and laughs while doing it, mainly just out of disbelief that, yes, people are genuinely this stupid.

If he genuinely gets upset, he's honestly more disappointed than anything else

God, he's such a fucking DAD

Pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance when someone tries to merge in his lane when he's in their blind spot

Overall, likes to bond with his passenger over how dumb other people are but won't usually go past that point.

Isn't really bothered by other people not knowing how to drive.

Karlach:

Okay bear with me I'm aware it's strange to see the literal barbarian of the party over here but hear me out

Karlach really only rages when people are dicks to innocents and to the people who tormented her. I can't see her getting mad unless she's in the passenger seat. Then it's going down.

She's the one getting mad for Wyll whenever he's driving.

Says "yikes" before she almost gets in a collision but is one of those women who are just quiet while desperately trying not to hit the other car

A PERFECT maneuverer, gets in that motherfucking parking spot no questions asked

She's kind of an "Anyway!" type of driver whenever people are stupid on the road. She can smell bad drivers and just speeds past them.

"Nope, not dealing with your shit today. Bye!"

The only reason she's lower than Gale is because she's got some hardcore road rage but only when she's not the one driving.

Because how in the hell are you gonna make my friend's driving experience bad?? I'll kill you??

Lae'zel:

Thinks everybody sucks at driving except her

And genuinely?? She is a very good driver, knows all the rules and is very aware of her surroundings

The reason why I don’t put Lae’zel in the worst category is because normally with her road rage, she’s typically the type to deal with it and move on.

I do also think that when it comes a time that people are idiots and she needs to try and get out of it alive, she’s much like Karlach and are radio silent during near-death situations.

Please, please keep in mind that that silence is temporary, though. If anyone DARES hit her car that she paid for on the road, they’re pulling over and having a nice little chat.

Nice as in getting their dick ripped off, sure.

“Now, you’re going to tell me exactly why you thought it would be a smart idea to blind me with your headlights and expect to not get collided.”

She’s verbally tearing them limb from limb, criticizing the driving school they went to, demanding the address of the DMV that gave them their damned license.

“Whoever gave you a passing grade must have a brain hemorrhage, truly. I cannot fathom the idiocy it takes to put someone like you anywhere near a vehicle.”

WORST:

Shadowheart:

Okay, yeah, she talks shit. She'll say it to their faces, and behind their backs.

Very chill driver otherwise and is just trying to get where she's trying to go

Like Halsin, she's also fairly safe, braking in advance if she sees shit and looking at both sides of a crosswalk to make sure some fuckwad isn't gonna sprint to the other side before she drives over it.

You don't usually see her road rage due to how accommodating she is in case of dumbasses but when she does she roasts the shit out of them

Racist when it comes to car makes and their drivers lmao

"Dodge Ram drivers are all the same, I swear." She'll grumble, flashing her lights at people who don't turn off their brights at night.

Total tailgater but only when she's alone.

"It wouldn't kill you to go the damned speed limit every once and a while, you know."

Definitely thinks she's the best driver out of all the companions

Whenever she has to pull to the side of the road after someone hit her they're shitting their pants

"I'm sorry I didn't see you--" "Oh, you didn't see me? Didn't see the bright-colored car directly beside you before you merged over? Are you sure your eyes are okay to drive with?"

Jahiera:

Literally will not shut the fuck up over how terrible this new generation is at driving

Any time she gets on the freeway it looks like she's looking in 15 directions at once every three seconds

Also a very good driver but definitely not accommodative for idiots on the road.

You WILL let her merge. Definitely a horn-honker.

It's so embarrassing because she'll honk her horn at fucking everything.

Someone goes first at a stop sign when it was her turn? Honk.

Someone turns left at an unprotected light when they're supposed to wait for her? Honk.

Someone misses their exit and goes off the road even though they weren't even in front of her? HONK.

She treats it like a damn wrong button.

If a car speeds past her only to end up one car in front of her, she'll physically put her hands up in confusion and go "WHAT WAS THE POINT???"

"All these young people with so many places to go. You'd think it would kill them to stop and smell the flowers every once and a while."

Minthara:

Lord help the fucking soul that pisses off Minthara on the road.

I theorize that Minthara is a very, very aggressive driver. She is the first one to speed off when the light turns green.

She’s the motherfucker behind you on the freeway with headlights full blast because you DARED to go the speed limit for 2 seconds.

Flashes her brights quick enough to kill someone with epilepsy at the wheel whenever they accidentally leave their brights on

I feel like it’s obvious at this point but Minthara isn’t vocal in her road rage. Her actions speak enough for her.

She’ll mutter shit under her breath but honestly it just sounds like she’s putting a damn hex on them.

Likes to drive with no music like the fucking sociopath she is

If someone hits her, she’ll brake check and give them a worse-looking car. She needs to have the last say.

Which, yes, she’s just like that one guy in the tiktok who speeds after a car that hit and ran him, screaming on the mic “HE HIT ME AND TRYNA LEAVE!!! HE HIT ME AND TRYNA LEAVEEEE!”

That is Minthara.

You WILL regret driving anywhere in her vicinity.

Astarion:

Such a motherfucking chaotic driver. His road rage isn't bad in the sense of yelling behind the wheel. The lengths he goes to prove a point are what put him down here.

For example, if someone's tailgating him, he'll stop. Not a mere brake check. A stop. And he'll get rear-ended, just to get that fucking insurance money.

He prefers an untouched car, don't get me wrong, but he welcomes people to be idiots on the road.

He's also the type to drive motorcyclists off the road.

"Oh, you like to go fast? I can go fast too. Here, let me demonstrate."

Type of person to write notes on people's parked cars about how much they suck at parking

Once he wrote a fake ticket for someone who parked in his favorite spot at a particular joint he frequents.

His insurance hates him 😭

Is so petty with his road rage

If you're on his ass when he's already going 10 over, guess what? We're going 10 under now. The whole time.

Flips people off if they're lucky

[sturnina]

Again

Chris Sturniolo x Reader

He did it again.

You don‘t know how to feel as you silently drive home, Chris in the passenger seat, seemingly oblivious to the storm raging in your mind.

He did it again. He hit a guy just because he looked at you weirdly.

Don‘t get me wrong, you love his protective side. It is hot, honestly. The way he always makes sure everyone knows you‘re his girl, the way his arm sneaks around your waist at parties, the way he gets rid of other boys trying to flirt with you.

But this… this wasn‘t protective, this was violent. He hit a guy, for the second time this week. The second time in four days.

Yes, the guy was rude and obnoxious. Yes, you felt uncomfortable around him. Yes, you were relieved when Chris came to your help after the guy wouldn‘t listen to your No’s.

But Chris‘s punch, it wasn‘t protective. It was violent, brutal, merciless. And of course, the guy hit him back, right on his cheek.

When you glance to your right, you can see the dark patch forming on your boyfriend‘s cheekbone.

You arrive home — your house, not the triplets‘ —, and you go to fetch the first aid kit immediately after entering through the front door. Chris trails in behind you, unbothered by his split lip and bruised cheek.

He just sits down at the kitchen table, knowing you will take care of him. Expecting you to.

You take an ice pack out of the refrigerator and settle down next to Chris, all in complete silence. You can‘t bear to hear his voice now, or your own. You‘re afraid it might give your thoughts away. And your eyes, your eyes will surely betray you, so you keep them focused on the ice, the bruise, your hand, anything but Chris‘s eyes. That he is looking at you constantly isn‘t helping.

But eventually, he picks up on your uncharacteristically silent behaviour.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Everything alright?”

You swallow thickly, knowing your voice will give in the second you try to speak. So you remain silent. For exactly three seconds, dabbing a cotton pad at his split lip, before Chris speaks again.

“That dick won‘t bother you anymore.”

Of course, he thinks that‘s the problem. Of course.

“That‘s not what I‘m worried about,” you mutter, stoically keeping your eyes on his injuries.

“You‘re worried about me? Oh, baby, you know I can take care of myself,“ Chris says warmly.

“That’s not… I am worried about you, Chris. You need to stop this. But-”

“Baby, you know I won‘t,“ he mutters, slowly tilting your chin up with the hand that isn‘t holding the ice pack. “Those pricks deserve it.“

“Besides the fact that no one deserves to get beat up, that‘s not what I mean,“ you say, pulling away from him. “You need to stop or you‘ll end up in serious trouble.“

“I won‘t,“ he says softly. “I promise. I just want to teach them a lesson-”

“You‘re not listening to me, Chris!”

“What are you talking about, of course I‘m listening to you,“ he says, his brows furrowing.

“No you‘re not,“ you scoff. “I see the way you look at the guys you‘re going to hit. I‘m not blind. I can see that you want it.“

“Of course I want it,“ Chris says, laying a hand on your arm. “I need to protect my girl-”

“That‘s not what I mean, and we both know it,“ you snap, quickly closing your mouth and taking a deep breath. “I am just an excuse. Don‘t deny it!“

He already opened his mouth but closes it again, worry and confusion clouding his gaze. “Baby-”

“No. Listen to me,“ you interrupt him, trying to keep your tone calm. “You like the confrontation, don‘t you? The adrenaline? But you can‘t see… You don‘t see the way it‘s hurting me.“

Chris‘s expression falters for a moment. “I don‘t- what are you- what do you mean? I don‘t understand…“ he stutters.

“No, you don‘t,“ you say softly, pulling your arm out of his grip and standing up to bring more distance between you.

He really doesn‘t. He doesn‘t understand the way your heart clenches every time a guy even just glances at you in public. He doesn’t understand the way your thoughts start racing even when someone is just walking in your direction. He doesn‘t understand the way you‘re terrified of talking to anyone while out with him — out of fear to trigger his jealousy.

The air feels thick as you look at his expression, his desperate eyes, the bruise on his cheek and his still-bleeding lip.

“Explain it to me,“ he says, “please, what am I doing wrong?“

“You don‘t see the way you‘re hurting me, hurting everyone around you,“ you whisper, your voice just as thick now. The words feel like they‘re stuck in your throat and you have to force yourself to speak them. „I hate seeing people hurt, especially you. I hate seeing you get hurt, and knowing- knowing that it‘s because of me.“

“That‘s not true, baby, I‘m-”

“Please, Chris,“ you whisper, tears collecting in your eyes, “Please let me finish. I hate avoiding to go- to go out in public with you just because I can‘t… I can‘t trust you not to lash out at someone, I hate b-being scared every time someone looks at me or talks to me, I- I just… I hate seeing you angry, I hate seeing you violent, I hate seeing you like that… And yet you- you keep doing it, n-no matter how o-often I ask you to stop…“ Your throat is clogged, your breaths are laboured, your eyes are watering, and you physically can‘t speak anymore, the words having drained out of your head. But there is one sentence left, one you‘re terrified to even think.

And Chris is just standing there, the words burning in his mind, on his skin, digging into his flesh while he tries not to rush to hug you because he knows, he knows it wouldn‘t help. And then he feels the tears running down his face, and the pain ripping through his chest. You don‘t trust him. You can‘t trust him, you said it yourself. You‘re scared of him.

Fists clenching at his sides, he lets that sink in. Everything he‘s done for you, everything he thought he‘s done for you, crumbles under the heavy weight of reality, the realisation that he‘s been hurting you all along.

He steps forward, raises his arms, and sees the way you cross your arms. A shielding gesture. Chris thinks he can hear his heart finally shatter at that, after slowly cracking over the entire conversation.

There are no words he can use to explain himself. He knows he should apologise. But how do you apologise after terrifying your girl over and over again without even noticing? What words are there to express the mixture of frustration, fear, and self-hatred he‘s feeling against himself?

Chris drops his arms to his sides.

He turns around, and leaves.

And you are left alone. The front door slams closed, but you don‘t even flinch. Your mind is full, and so are your eyes, your ears, everything is clogged with memories, everything is breaking inside you, but you are relieved.

You are relieved, because how could you bear his overwhelming presence any longer, with one last question, one last sentence burning on your mind, a question you can‘t ignore but also can‘t speak, not in front of him?

How can you be sure he will never lash out at you? How can you be sure that you will never be on the receiving end of his fist?

[ch0wen]

Single mom reader x tangerine!!! They meet on the train and he protects the baby and her! Happy ending please 🙏🏼

“Please, Char-Char. Eat something other than those chips,”

You plead with your six-year-old as his stained fingers reach into a bag of barbecue chips. His hand blindly dodges the pre-sliced apples and celery sticks on the table. A divider that separates your seats.

You attempt to move the bag away from him after he ignores you, and this causes him to whine. His tiny hand swats at yours from taking the junk food away. You’re quieting him as you glimpse around the train car. Worried you both will disturb the other passengers on this late-night trip or that this may lead to an outburst of his.

You feel helpless when it comes to managing him. You’re young, on your own, and unsure how to tackle half of the maternal responsibilities. You continually give in to avoid making things worse or because of the pleading looks he makes with his big brown puppy dog eyes. A trait he gets from his father. Unfortunately, they’re both good at using the shared feature to their advantage. Your ex using it for more manipulative means. And you know you need to stick your foot down, or Charlie will never learn. He’ll end up just like his father.

You attempt to sound authoritative, “That’s enough for now.”

Charlie drops his iPad as he grasps for the bag. The tablet tumbles and bounces onto the ground, yanks his earbuds out of the headphone jack, blasting the Spider-Man cartoon he was watching.

“Stop it," He cries.

You're stronger than a child, so you get the crisps out of his hold. You twist it closed and slide it into your tote bag on the empty seat next to you.

“Eat some apples, and then you can have a bit more, okay?”

You lean over to pick up the iPad still lying in the aisle. Breaking the eye contact with your disobedient toddler. A hustling man nearly trips over your arm, but he catches himself. He’s careful not to step on you or the device. After a pause to assess what he narrowly sidestepped, he bends down to meet your hand and pick up the iPad.

“Careful,” his eyes flit around your face. “Here you go, love.”

You feel your cheeks warm at his stare, “thanks.”

You have a moment before hearing the thunderous sound of rushing footsteps. He seized the iPad in both hands and swung it around to slam into the hurried man’s face. With the force of his action, he falls messily into the seat next to Charlie. The other guy is dazed but retrieves a knife as he clambers off the floor. The now-seated, friendly stranger kicks the knife out of his hand. Then punches him in the face in one swooping motion.

Not even seconds after the pursuer fell to the ground, another man ran up the aisle. He scoops up the now unconscious man and gives the seated stranger a salutation before dragging him off.

Now what the hell was all of that? Do they know each other?

With a few blinks, it feels like you just imagined that entire scenario because the car has been cleared out, and the other passengers remain quiet and sleeping. Except that friendly, handsome stranger is still seated across from you. He’s looking sheepish as he tries to steady his breathing,

“Mind if I hang around for a second? Need to catch my breath,"

You confirm he can stay with a bobblehead-type nod.

"That git started shit with us in the front of the train. Pardon my French.”

He jerks slightly in the seat when he finally notices Charlie gaping at him with wide eyes.

“Oi. Sorry mate, I didn’t crash into you, did I?”

Charlie, unbothered and unharmed, continues to stare at this man. You watch his eyes flick down to glimpse at the stranger’s bruised knuckles. Then your boy seemingly recalls the heroic act of violence he witnessed seconds earlier as his eyes dart to the now-empty passageway and back on Tangerine,

“Are you a crime fighter like Spider-Man?”

Tangerine’s lips spread into a smile as he adjusts to face the intrigued child.

》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》 》

He spent a half hour describing to Charlie these wondrous tales of the adventures he’d been on with his brother. Who, you both learned, is nicknamed Lemon.

Lemon joined in on the storytelling, and sat in the seats across the aisle, halfway through, adding in amusing ad-libs. Charlie laughs at their narrations, and you ponder what happened to the man's body from before.

Thankfully, they censored most of the violence and gore from their tales that they probably got up to. You notice the wonder and amazement lighting up Charlie's eyes. He gazes at what he believes to be the human embodiment of a superhero.

》 》 》 》 》 》

“Hey, treat your mum right, chap. She’s got a long journey with you,” he ghosts his hand over Charlie’s face to mimic the action of pinching his chubby cheeks. He earned a playful squeal from Charlie as he threw his body back into his seat. You beam down at your boy before looking up at Tangerine, who is staring at you ardently before locking eyes. His hand self-consciously rubbed over his flushing cheeks.

He glances towards the doors. Probably expecting that Lemon was going to come barreling in any minute.

“Miss-“

“Y/N.”

“Oh, Y/N. Y/N, listen, why don’t you give me a ring once you’re settled at your destination. I'd like to know if the rest of your trip with Charlie goes well. Without any goons like me bothering you.”

Tangerine leans over and looks to Charlie for permission before tearing off a small piece of his ditched coloring page. He scribbles out a number using a purple crayon and skates it across the table to you.

“If you'd like, of course," He smiles bashfully before rising and smoothing out his suit.

You grin back, now craning your neck to maintain eye contact with him, “I will.”

[bagopucks]

N. Hischier - Dearest Nico,

✄————————————

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warning(s): Minor talks of blood and injury, family disagreements, and general sadness.

I wonder what keeps Nico up at night when he lays down and his brain decides to go on a rampage. Is it the spicy photos he took in his hockey pads? Or the mysterious trench coat photos?

I wrote it vague when it comes to the time this all took place. Technically, Nico joined up during Covid, but I know some prefer their media to not reflect reality. So it’s up for interpretation.

—————————————

I adjusted my apron and let out a quiet sigh. Another day in a tiny cafe. Nothing I loved, and nothing I hated.

“No rush, but we’ve got a crowd out there.” My boss came flying through the back, a tension in her tone that I’d known for as long as I had been working there. I mumbled an, ‘okay’ before I stepped through the double doors and out of the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a crowd. The breakfast rushes were always the biggest, and likewise they moved the fastest.

I retrieved the closest notebook and pen from behind the counter before I started sifting my way through people, taking drink orders and food orders. I hated this job, but it did pay the bills and college loans. Which ultimately, was what I needed.

As I made it to the back of the tiny cafe, I found my way over to a man dressed in military greens, my brow furrowed. I met a few throughout my time working in the cafe. Some kinder than others, but I’d had to admit, I had never seen one as- well.. as handsome as he was.

“Good morning, sir. What can I get for you?”

“Can I just have a Cappuccino?” His voice was soft, and his eyes seemed to wander to the floor each time after they met mine. He was shy. Or perhaps distracted.

“Of course you can.” When his eyes met mine again, I offered a smile. The man pursed his lips, his brow furrowed as well. He opened his mouth to speak, which inevitably stopped me from turning away. I gave him an encouraging nod.

“This is.. it’s an odd question but.. are you busy?”

“Do I look busy?” I teased sarcastically. The man’s eyes drifted to the rest of the cafe.

“I guess so. I’m sorry.” He looked defeated, and sad

“I get off in an hour.” My words caught him off guard, and I offered another smile. “Think you can stick around that long?”

“Absolutely.”

I winked at the man before I slipped away.

When I returned at the end of my shift, he was still there, finishing off what I had to assume was now a cold coffee.

“Come on. I’ve got a place nearby we can hang out.” I took the cup and threw it in the nearest trash can before I led the man out of the cafe. I slipped the bright blue bow out of my hair, and ran my fingers through the long strands to smooth it out.

“So,” I began as I walked over to my car. “Got a name?” The gravel crunched in the lot beneath my feet as I walked to my car. I opened my passenger side door and tossed the bow in before shutting it.

“Nico.” I looked back at him, watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his camo coveralls. He was incredibly attractive.

I was quick to inform him of my own name, before I nodded my head toward the woods just across the empty plot of land the restaurant was on. It was a place just outside of town, its location chosen by the owners to avoid large groups of tourists.

“You’re taking me out there?”

“I’m not gonna kill you, I promise.” I assured teasingly, hopeful to ease the concerns of the military man.

The grass was high in the field, but Nico seemed unbothered. He was wearing long pants anyway. And I made due with my jeans.

We walked in silence, both having questions neither really knew how to ask. We were strangers. I was only offering what I assumed to be a bit of company in a time of need.

Still, I was the first to break the silence when we reached the woods.

“So Nico,” I turned around to walk backwards in front of him. His eyes lifted from the ground at the sound of my voice. Being blessed with the sight of his pretty eyes made me smile.

“First year?”

His head tilted.

“In the service? It’s easy to tell.” Nico’s head quickly nodded in understanding as a nervous chuckle fell from his lips. “Can’t really hide it in that outfit. Either you’re a soldier or you have horrible fashion sense.” I teased, though my own giggle silenced when my heel caught on a tree root. I choked on a gasp, my arms flew forward while the rest of my body fell back.

Nico was quick to reach out and catch me, my hero, despite the slight pain in my arm when he pulled me back up. I gained my footing before I could hit his chest, but we were close anyway. He held onto my wrist, his other hand finding it’s way to my back to make sure I was steady. Then he flashed me a smile. His dimples were adorable.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out.

“You’re just gonna be a hit with the ladies, aren’t you?” I masked my embarrassment with humor as I pulled away. Nico flushed and pursed his lips, looking as though he was trying to find the words to protest before I turned around to continue walking.

“I don’t know about that.” Nico seemed both shy and humble. Or maybe he really didn’t see his own beauty.

“Come on now. You’ll be officer pretty boy in no time. Bet you’ll have superiors wishing they weren’t your superiors.” I turned my head to look at him, flashing a smirk and side stepping to bump my shoulder against his arm.

“I hope not,” Nico laughed quietly. “I just want to get in and out.. just get it over with.” I raised a brow.

“Not really a military man?”

“Not at all.” His thick brows rose as he looked down at the ground. Nico looked lost. He sounded like he grew up here, but he didn’t seem like he belonged in that uniform. And truth be told, I couldn’t see him in combat either.

We continued to walk in silence, our arms occasionally brushing and our eyes habitually finding the other’s face. I was enjoying the nature around us. Nico still seemed lost in his own world.

“My mom isn’t very happy about it.”

I slowly looked back at the man.

“She didn’t want me to do this.. made her nervous. But I can’t really come back here if I don’t. It’s required.”

That I knew. I might have been a college exchange student, but I spoke with enough locals and made enough friends to know the laws and customs and expectations of the Swiss people.

“I’m sure she’ll feel better once you’re back.”

“I hope so.. she’s just- she keeps saying she doesn’t want to hear about it. And I don’t really know what I’m supposed to write to her about.. if I can’t talk about boot camp and- well.. everything I’m going through.”

My eyes searched his fallen expression. Nothing hurt worse than an unsupportive parent.

“I don’t know,” Nico was swift to continue when I didn’t answer. “It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

“It’s worth worrying if you want to write to somebody. Being away from your family and friends during a time like that can be real freaky. Especially when you don’t have fast contact like phones and electronics.”

Nico looked down at me, his expression softening with relief. He was understood. That’s all he seemed to have wanted. I wondered how long he’d been waiting for his mother to understand him.

“I know it’s not my place but.. you can always write to me. I have a pretty easy address.” I offered sheepishly. Nico pursed his lips. He considered the idea before shrugging in response. I understood if he wasn’t certain, though that didn’t change the way my heart filled with disappointment when he did shrug.

“I’ll think about it.” I nodded at his words.

“I don’t need an answer for sure until you leave.”

“In four hours?” My brow rose at the new time limit we were put on.

“You didn’t tell me you were leaving so soon.”

“You didn’t ask.” Nico smirked, “we were just having normal conversation.” I glared at him and gave him a gentle shove, which I discovered moved my own body more than it did his. Quiet laughter fell from both our lips.

“Whatever,” I grumbled with lighthearted anger. “We’re almost there anyway.”

“Where?”

I spared Nico a brief glance.

“You’ll see.”

——————

“So? What do you think?”

All of his inner turmoil seemed to completely wash away at the sight. When we reached the opposite end of the woods, the trees opened up at the edges of the banks of a beautiful lake. The sun reflected in the water, and captivated the way the surface rippled in the breeze. I spared a hopeful look up at Nico.

“It’s pretty.” He answered quietly. I reached for his hand, and guided him down toward the lake, before sitting in the grass, just at the edge of the beautiful area. Nico looked down at me before he sat by my side.

“How many hours do we have left?”

“Three.”

I nodded and ran my hands through my hair, slowly kicking my flats off and rolling up my jeans. Nico watched me with curiosity in his eyes before I dipped my feet in the water. It was chilly, but perfect considering the long walk we just took.

“Three hours.. to do anything we want.” I muttered as I leaned back to lay down in the grass. “Why’d you leave home so early?”

“Just to.. I guess get away.”

“Felt trapped?”

“I’m really nervous.”

I hummed softly at his words, then slowly reached out to place a hand on his knee.

“I think you’ll be fine. It’s probably not as scary as you think.” I spoke reassuringly, but truthfully I had no clue.

“My dad said it wasn’t that bad.. but my dad was built a little better than I was.”

I looked up at him, and with the insinuation of the conversation, I felt it appropriate to look him over. His uniform wasn’t exactly helpful in accentuating his physique, but after the walk we just took, I figured he would fair better than he let on.

“You’ll be okay.” I repeated again, in a softer tone. I slipped my hand to his thigh and gave a gentle squeeze.

“A little cooling off might help.” I added after a moment of silence.

“You want to go swimming?”

“Absolutely, I do.” I smirked, slowly sitting up.

“I can’t get this wet.”

“What do you have on under it?”

“Stuff I also can’t get wet.”

“We can just hang it up to dry, yeah?”

“On what?” Nico asked through amused giggles.

“A tree branch? We have a shit-load to choose from.” I wildly gestured to the forest behind us. Nico looked back toward the trees in contemplation.

“Last chance to feel a bit of freedom before you go,” I spoke as if I was waving a piece of candy in front of his face. Nico bit his bottom lip.

“Live a little.” His eyes met mine. “Nothing to hide here. We might never even see each other again.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Nobody’s watching you.” I couldn’t understand his paranoia. It’s not like he had cameras on him 24/7. What was the issue?

“Fine.. fine.” He sighed, quickly standing up. “But only ‘cause you talked me into it.”

“I’ll take credit for that,” I shrugged, unbothered by his need to play the blame game.

“Turn around.” His words made me laugh softly, but I stood and turned away nonetheless.

“You too, pretty boy.”

“Okay.. I’m turned.”

I broke into a fit of chuckles at his terminology. I pulled my polo and jeans off quickly before I slipped down the bank and into the lake. As trustworthy as Nico seemed, I was not skinny dipping with a stranger.

I remained facing away until I was startled by a loud splash. I was swift to get myself turned in his direction, just in time to see Nico surface with soaked hair and a bright smile on his lips.

“You little shit!” I laughed out, splashing water in his direction. “You scared me!” He turned his head away to avoid all the water before reaching up to push his hair back and wipe the droplets from his eyes.

“Sorry.” It was no genuine apology. Not with those little chuckles I heard.

“This is what I get for trying to help somebody.” I muttered. His brow shot up, and I wondered if I’d hit a nerve.

“You’re really gonna be like that?”

“Maybe I am.” I would have crossed my arms over my chest if I wasn’t using them to stay afloat.

Nico’s body lunged forward at me, and I shrieked before turning my back to him and trying to swim away. I wasn’t a professional swimmer, and I knew he’d catch me. Soon enough, I felt a hand quickly wrap around my ankle.

“No!” I shouted through my own strained laughter. Nico pulled me back to him, twisting me around to face him as I tried to push against his chest.

“Now you’re not talking such a big game, huh?” Nico taunted. That wide smile still on his lips.

“Nico, let me go.” Despite my pleas to be released, I truly didn’t mind being in his arms.

“Maybe I tricked you out here so I could kill you.” He was flipping the script on me, and for a moment real fear struck my chest. My expression dropped. My laughter ceased. The serious look on his face remained.

Then I saw his lips twitch, and a laugh quickly broke from his lips. It took me a moment to realize he was joking. Then I grew a bit frustrated with myself that I’d let that fly right over my head.

“You suck!” I tried to slap his chest, finally wiggling out of his loose grip as he was still recovering from his own laughter.

I played into theatrics when I turned my head away from him, and tilted my nose up at his antics.

“Oh come on! It was funny!” Nico reached out to nudge my arm with his fingers. “Come on!”

When I side eyed him, I found myself shocked at his beauty. Caught in that perfect ray of sun. It illuminated half of his face while casting a shadow on the other half. One brown eye looking like a pool of honey while the other looked like a dark chocolate. And his hair- the way his bangs fell forward over his forehead, and hung just beside his eyes. Framed his beautiful face. And his lips-

“You can’t stay mad at me forever.” Nico tried.

“I can if I never hear from you again.” I countered. He narrowed his eyes at me.

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to write to you until you do forgive me.”

My heart began to beat twice as fast.

——————

I saw Nico off that day with a kind wave and a gift made of my bow. He clipped it onto his duffel and promised he’d keep it somewhere by his bed. He left me with one of his bracelets. A bit too big for my wrist, but I found it was easier to slip around my ankle. So that’s how I wore it.

His first letter was one informing me of the way the mailing system works. He said:

I can send up to two a week, but I’d probably only have time to write one. I’m thinking Fridays.

I had no issue with doing Fridays. I’d be able to hear about his whole week, and then I could write back that night or on Saturday when I had time. And mail it to him.

Fridays became my favorite days. If I wasn’t working, and if I didn’t have classes, I was often waiting by my mailbox to receive the long awaited letter.

The second, but first official update of his time there, was the first time I realized how nervous I was for Nico.

Hello,

Can we establish a good greeting? I hate Hello, but I didn’t know what else to put down. I thought ‘sup.’ My Buddy would definitely suggest ‘sup,’ but that seemed too informal. And I don’t even say that, to be honest. We need a good greeting. We can try some out.

How have you been? How’s work? This week hasn’t been too hard. A lot of walking and running.. and push-ups. I realized this week that I need to include more upper body in my workouts at home. I always did a lot of cardio. They let me keep my hair, too. I had to get it trimmed a bit, but they said as long as I can see, it can stay. I am happy about that.

And please don’t be mad, but there’s a bit of dirt on your bow. I came back into the barracks on Wednesday and it was on the floor with some dirt in the corner I can’t get out of it. Somebody must have bumped it or hit it on accident. I’ll keep trying to clean it though.

It was short but sweet, which seemed pretty on-brand for Nico. Shy even in his letters. I wrote him back telling him of my own week. How I got a raise and met a group of local kids my age that were pretty nice. Then I asked if he had told his sister about me, because there had been a girl in the cafe asking to see me on a day I didn’t work, and I was only curious. I told him the dirt on my bow was okay, and that I’d gotten a new one anyway to continue wearing.

The next letter that came in was a bit lengthier.

Hey,

I don’t like this one either. I’m not good at this. Maybe we should skip the greeting line. We can just get right into our weeks? If you want to keep it we can, but I really don’t like it. It makes me uncomfortable. Hey is for texts.. like if I said hey, and waited for you to respond. But now I’m just saying hey, and going on.. like you don’t even get a chance to text back. I’m not making much sense.

Anyways, I wear gloves for work back in the U.S. I never really thought my hands were smooth until this week. We had all these obstacle courses to go through. It really messed them up. I have marks and bruises everywhere. And I grabbed barbed wire on accident. I got sixteen stitches in the palm of my hand. It still hurts.

I accidentally got blood on your bow. I’m really sorry. I just wanted to hold it. And now it’s got red spots from my hand. I tried to wash it, but it’s still faint in the fabric.

I think the people I’m here with really like me though. We don’t talk a lot but they’re always making jokes and super kind. If I’m honest, I do miss you. I miss my friends back at home too.

And yes, I did tell my sister about you. I just let her know who you were, and that I was writing to you too. She asked if I planned on writing to my mother, but I told her I wasn’t sure if she wanted me to. She hasn’t written to me yet. I told my sister I can’t write three letters in a week. I said I’d just write to her and my mom in the same letter. I don’t want to stop having these little back and forth’s with you.

I read this one when I got home from work in the midnight hours, underneath the warm glow of a tall lamp I had in the kitchen, with a bowl of warm oatmeal on the table. I felt bad for his hand, but I was glad to know he was making friends.

When I sat down the next day to write my own letter, I promised him that I was not particular about the greetings. I wished him luck on his recovery with his hand, and I told him I hoped it wouldn’t interfere too much with his push-ups. I assured him once again that my bow would be fine. That he was only giving it a few memories. I promised I had enough Tide sticks to hopefully get the stains out if it mattered that much. And if not he could keep it or throw it away.

I told Nico I was happy he was making friends. That they’d be shoulders to lean on when he needed it. And I especially assured him that I wouldn’t be too hurt if he dropped me to write to his mother. The last thing I wanted was to be the cause of tension amongst his family. I also told him I would be happy to meet his sister if he informed her of the days I worked and the hours, and I made sure to provide a well written example of my schedule.

What about Heyo,

Is Heyo weird? It still seems weird. I know you said you didn’t care, but now I’m hung up on it. Maybe I’ll give it a break next time.

I hope it’s not bothersome if I complain a little. I don’t want to rain on your sunny day. It’s been a really bad week though. It was hot as hell on Monday, and I got sick in the evening because of dehydration. It was my fault, but it was pretty embarrassing. On Tuesday I lost your bow. I don’t know where it went. I looked everywhere. Tore my bed apart, looked through the small dresser by my stuff. I even looked in my bags and under the bed. Nobody else knows where it went either.

I didn’t realize how much I liked to rely on it until it was gone. Now I just lay down and close my eyes. If I think real hard, I can see you in the lake. I can feel you. Sometimes it makes me tear up. I really miss you. I didn’t expect to you this much. I miss my mom too. I want to hear from her. Sometimes I feel like I just need her. Can I call you next week? Friday around five?

I felt oh so excited to see his offer to call. It seemed like he really needed it, and I missed the sound of his voice. His accent and his Swiss-English as I liked to call it. The way his ‘th’s’ sounded like F’s, and the drawl in his A’s.

I told Nico to stay strong. That I’d love to talk to him more about it if he had time when we called. But if he didn’t, then I promised he would be okay. That it was only boot camp, nothing permanent. He’d be able to see his family and his friends soon. And go back to his normal life and normal job. I also suggested he call his mother. That it may be easier for him to talk to her that way as opposed to writing letters. He seemed so close with his family, that I couldn’t imagine this tiff with his mother lasting as long as it did, but I could only assume her pulling away was a way to protect herself from the thought of her child going through something he never had before. Knowing he’d face new challenges and sustain new injuries. I wondered if she knew about his stitches.

I told Nico for what felt like the thousandth time, that the bow was not the end of the world. I told him I thought about him too, and that I hoped he would spare a minute to see me before he went wherever he did go after his time at boot camp ended.

Then I gave him my phone number and swore I’d be waiting by the phone when he called.

And I was. When the ring ran through my little Swiss home, I snatched my phone off the table and immediately picked up.

“Hey!” I was too excited to even wait for Nico to ask who I was.

“Oh thank god.” I heard relief in his tone. I raised a brow. “You’re the third person I called. Your number got smudged.. musta rained when it was delivered.”

His voice was such a relief to hear. I smiled at knowing he didn’t give up at the sight of the messy phone number. That he’d put in effort to contact me.

“It’s so great to hear from you Nico. How’d your week go?”

“I wanna hear about yours first.”

This was a change, but I welcomed it nonetheless.

“I met your sister the other day.” I began. “She’s really sweet. She said she was happy to know you were talking to someone else. She said you talk about me sometimes when you write to her too.”

“She did?” Nico sounded surprised.

“She says good things about you, I promise. She also told me you called your mom?”

“Yeah.. I did. I think we figured things out. She felt pretty bad when she heard I got hurt.”

“The hand thing?”

“No.” Nico’s tone shifted.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It’s not really important.”

“I guess.. but I hope you’re okay.”

“Nothing I haven’t been through before.”

I raised a brow. What did that even mean?

“Keep telling me about your week.”

“Well… I went out to eat the other night at this cheese and wine place. I don’t know if you’re much into either of those things but it was quiet and warm. Felt like someplace you’d like to be.”

“I don’t mind a bottle of wine here and there.”

“Maybe I’ll take you out to celebrate when you get back.” I suggested cautiously.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Just promise you’ll let me pay for the wine.”

“We’ll see.”

He coaxed me into discussing my week until I was quite literally out of things to say, then Nico told me he had to hang up because his free time was up. I felt bad for taking up so much time, but I also worried that he had asked me to do it. I hoped he wasn’t shutting down on me. Or hiding things.

The last thing he told me was, “I think I’m really starting to like you.” Before he hung up.

When the next Friday came, and I received no letter, I decided to continue to write one to him. I had new information from his sister, and I wanted to bring it up.

Dearest Nico,

Nina said you got into a fight? Nico is that the injury you were telling me about? That didn’t matter? You said you’d been in them before. How frequent is that? Where are you getting into fights? That’s not good, hun.

The pen slipped… I didn’t mean to call him ‘hun.’

I haven’t heard from you. Are you okay? I’m worried. I’m really sorry for taking up our time on the phone. If you want to call again we can. I’ll listen to you talk the whole time. I won’t even say a word. Please get back to me when you can. I worry about you.

I had to wait a whole extra week to hear from him.

I’m gonna give up on the whole greeting thing. But yeah, the injury was that. It was no big deal. Just some guys trying to rile me up. I happens. I should have kept my cool, it’s probably my fault anyway. I’m used to having a little more protection where I work. I promise it’s not a frequent occurrence, and it’s nothing to worry about. I just had a busted lip for a couple days. And I had to get a piece of my hand re-stitched from falling in gravel. I’m okay though, hun.

I got your bow back though. So I guess the fight was kinda worth it. A piece of the fabric’s ripped, from said gravel. I know you said you don’t mind, but I really hate to know I keep ruining something that’s yours. I’ll try to learn how to make you a new one when I get home. After we go out for wine and cheese. We should do desserts too. Forget dinner. It’s not important. I haven’t had sweets in forever.

I’m sorry I missed last week, I hope you can forgive me. I promise I won’t miss another week. And I’d love to call again, but I kinda had that privilege revoked after punching a guy in the face. So.. rain check on the phone call?

Oh.. and I like the way you call me dearest.

I found some comfort in knowing he was okay, but not in knowing people were giving him a hard time. What had Nico ever done to anybody? Unless he had an alter ego I didn’t know of, then there was no reason for anybody to be pushing him around. It seemed like whatever job he had was pretty rough and tumble too. So what could possibly make someone think they could harass and hurt him? And take his things? My worries melted into the subtle flutter of butterflies in my stomach at the small section of Nico’s writing near the bottom of the page. He liked the new greeting. So I decided to keep it.

Our letters continued, and Nico remained true to his word in not missing another week. He stopped talking about the other people there with him, and I found it easy to stop asking. It didn’t seem like he had as many friends as he first thought anyway, and Nico told me he started clipping my bow to the bottom hem of the shirt he wore underneath his coveralls. He said it was safer there. Our conversations began to flow much easier, and I even attached occasional photos to my letters. Some of myself with good food, backgrounds, landscapes included. I loved his little comments.

“You look beautiful there.”

“My mother makes Tarts like that.. did you get that from Nina?”

“I miss the scenery.”

“I’ll have to show you my favorite spots.”

“I can’t tell if my heart is beating fast at the sight of that sunset, or the way it lights up your eyes.”

Our greetings shifted from awkward, ‘hey’s’ to teasing, ‘hello Hun’s.’ Something we both found easier to write and make jokes about. Nico called the first week he could, and we alternated between writing letters and making phone calls as the weeks went by. Our conversations ebbed and flowed. There were weeks when he wrote his heart out, said how much he missed me repeatedly, and said he was miserable. Then there were other weeks when he told me he was finding a good routine. That he was doing well, and that he thought he’d be fine. The closer he got to the end of his time at bootcamp, the more we spoke about our upcoming night together. And the closer we got to calling it a date, until we finally agreed that’s what it would be.

Our last call before Nico came home, I was telling him about his poor bracelet. That had finally been worn through too much and the string had snapped. I told him how embarrassed I had been kneeling on the cafe floor trying to pick up all the pieces. Nico laughed and told me he knew the feeling. I asked why he wore them if they broke so easily, and he informed me it was just a style choice. And through time it became a superstition thing.

He wasn’t a crystal guy, but he did know the minerals in every bracelet, and he said he liked to buy the ones that brought good luck or good fortune, because he felt it helped his ‘game.’ I didn’t really get that. I assumed it had to do with girls.

Nico and I also got into the conversation of his homecoming on that call. He told me he planned on seeing his family first, then he’d call from his own phone and talk to me about our little wine and cheese date.

It ended up being the second day that he was home, when he called early in the morning to see if I was free that evening. He told me to dress up a bit. Something nice, but not too nice.

When he showed up on my front doorstep, looking just the same as months ago, dressed up fancy and hair slicked back. I was on top of the world. He held my bow in his hands, but I ran into his arms nonetheless.

Nico hugged over the shoulders. I didn’t know why, but he was the baby sibling. I assumed it was something he probably did from a young age. And I had no issue wrapping my arms around his torso while he tried not to squeeze the life out of my upper body. There were quiet giggles shared, huge smiles, whispers of ‘I missed you’s’ and, I even voiced my disbelief on him being in front of me again.

When I pulled away, Nico finally presented me with my old blue bow. It looked rough. It looked like what I could only assume Nico looked like on his hardest days.

“I tried really hard to get the stains out. I even sat over the sink in the laundry room one night, and scrubbed with as much detergent as I could. It’s not perfect.”

I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, ‘oh well.’

“Better compared to the state your bracelet is in.” I teased. “I have all the pieces in a jar somewhere, I just don’t know how to fix it.”

“I don’t need it back,” Nico tried.

“Yeah, but I’d like to keep wearing it.”

“Well.. then I’d like to keep your bow if you wouldn’t mind.”

I smiled from ear to ear. “I don’t mind at all.”

I reached out to gently pry the bow from Nico’s hands. I tucked it into his front pocket before my focus shifted back to his hands, turning them over to see his palms. My thumb ran over the line of healing marks from what I assumed was the barbed wire. And that gravel. When I turned them back over, his knuckles still had healing bruises, and small cuts barely noticeable. I looked back up at Nico, and examined his lip. I released his less injured hand to bring my own to his cheek. I brushed my thumb across his bottom lip. Across the cheek I knew had previously held a bruise from another incident he told me of. All the while, his eyes flickered and looked over every part of my face, admiring, searching for some kind of emotion he wasn’t certain if I was giving off or not.

“Happy to be home?” I asked as his head tilted into my hand.

“Home, sure. I’m happy.” Nico shrugged and agreed. “With you? I’m- well.. I’m feeling words I can’t even describe.”

My gaze lifted from his cheek to his eyes.

“It’s good to have you back, hun.” I whispered, affection in my tone as opposed to humor.

“It’s good to be back, dearest.” Nico responded, moving his hands to gently grasp my hips. I knew wherever we went from here, it was going to be good. And not in a physical sense. In an emotional sense. I wasn’t oblivious to my feelings, and I certainly wasn’t oblivious to Nico’s. Not when he was standing before me, professing his love in his own quiet and guarded way.

“You can stay tonight.” My offer had his brow furrowing. “At my place.” I clarified, and Nico nodded. Maybe we were moving a little fast, but it had been months since we first saw each other. Months of writing and getting to know one another.

“I’d love to. But let’s do the date first.. yeah?” I laughed softly.

“Good idea.”

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

[hellcab]

TATTERDEMALION

Just a long dabble about Roth and The Yellow King. It gives some hints to Roth's upcoming event and another "God".

Black, near-acidic rain came pouring down from the smog choked skies above. It was always worse in the morning. Then again, the hours blend. Roth swallowed several caffeine pills with his morning coffee. There was vodka for punch in the brew.

Rubbing his eyes, he stared out ahead towards the busy street. The morning rush was in full swing. The desperate hoard sleepwalking off towards work. Vendors opening, despite the horrid weather. A traffic accident took center stage with bickering sinners. Violence. Desperation. Sadness. Rage.

He could feel it all like static in the air.

Roth slouched into his car seat and crossed his arms. Wrapping his chest tightly, he pretended he was somewhere else. Perhaps, somewhere better.  Growing hazy, his mind wanted sleep. Sure, the pills were in his system but that rarely helped.

He couldn’t sleep. He wanted to sleep. The times he tried became troubled with nightmares and terrible visions. Old ghosts strangled his neck from beyond the grave. Failures that gnawed on his spine.  Dead friends and lost lovers. The fear of the future weighing on his soul.

When he could sleep. When he could sleep without the nightmares. He can never, ever rest.

There was never any rest.

A gently tapping at the window got his attention. Roth sees his first customer outside the window. A yuppie, sporting an expensive look that screamed corporate decadence. They stood outside, sheltered by their umbrella as they tapped once more.

Roth could do worse with anyone else, but this customer actually had money. So why not. Signaling them, The Yuppie went to the back and entered. He collapsed his umbrella as he entered the cab. Overall, they seemed unbothered by the rotting interior. Then again, it beats walking in the black rain. Their clothes were impeccable.

“Where you’re heading?” Roth inquired as he twists around to look at his first customer. The Yuppie fixed his hair, which was coal black. “EvilSoft, at Mammon Business Plaza. No rush, I’m heading in early.”

“How surprising. That’s two-fifty for the ride and three very mile.” The Yuppie offered money for the fair and Roth accepted. Starting the cab, the Brimstone engine roared to life with ferocity. It was a mean machine of unstoppable power.

Roth joined traffic as they drove on through the storm. The world outside was muted. The mist and smog made things strained on the eyes. Roth could see blurs that eventually became shapes he could understand. The world was a hazy dream.

There was silence at first. Then, The Yuppie started talking. Roth normally could care less when talking to his customers. Sometimes, he preferred the silence. Most times, he preferred the radio. But, somehow, he rather liked his passenger today. Sure, they were a yuppie fuck. Roth’s own envious mind itched with frenzy scorn on that.

But . . . who really cares down here? Besides, the radio hasn’t been working that well lately.

Slowly, Roth opened up to the other as they talked sports. They talked about music. They talked about celebrities. The Yuppie spoke of his love of Verosika Mayday.

“That’s what I’m saying, her music is vibrant with that cynical bite. There’s more than sex and dirty talking. Just uh, message about the dating scene and one-night stands. You know.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean. I read the lyrics, and I get it. Sometimes, sometimes I can.”

Roth was closer to downtown now, nearing Mammon Plaza and ready to collect his full fair this morning. Honestly, not a bad start to the day’s tribulations. Best of all, his passenger wasn’t that half bad. For a Yuppie, which is.

“Say Roth, do you like the arts just as much as anyone with good taste? I sense that, you’re an artist.”

Roth gave a laugh, but he decided to humor this little question.

“Yeah, I suppose so. I . . . sometimes I write stuff. Poems, y’know.”

Roth came to a red light, stopping along with other cars. It was busy down here, with never-ending road work being done. Imps and Hellhounds, working for a slave’s wage in terrible conditions. Roth watched as sparks came up from a Hellhound cutting rebar.

The light turned green, and Roth proceeded onwards.

The Yuppie spoke again, grinning ear to ear as he laughing. The laughter strangely unnerved Roth in some strange, animalistic way. As if there was something wrong to the laughter only his deepest, primal senses can hear.

“Y’know, I’ve been to plays. Theater. Opera. I wanna ask you something Roth. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, what?”

There was silence. Just silence in that cab along with the droning of the rain. The engine and the muted sounds of the city outside.

“Have you seen The Yellow Sign?”

Roth’s heart was strangled with blind panic. He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t even react. Eyes stared ahead as the world turned wrong all around him. Everything was Dark. The city, the road and the rain were gone within the blink of an eye. Replaced with the howling void of nothing. Roth’s courage was made void as he stared into the dark void of nothing.

Roth prayed he was dreaming. Roth prayed this was a nightmare.

The Gehenna Cab was trapped in this strange nothing. Roth wasn’t even sure if they were moving still. That was not his greatest concern.

He knew someone was back there. It wasn’t The Yuppie; it was someone else. Someone he had hope he would never come face to face again with. He knew he was there. The air changes and the pressure grow on Roth to turn around. He was compelled to turn around. To see him. To look upon him with his eyes.

He’s a king, whom emperors have served. The Hebrews called him Kiawan. He is The Unspeakable God of mad artists and entropic loners. The Tatterdemalion King.

Roth looked as knew who it was.

Hastur. The Yellow King.

The tattered robes of yellow concealed the night underneath. The pallid mask hides the face of godly madness. This was what Roth witnessed when he first summoned him so many years ago.

Roth prayed to him during his bout of insanity. He kept Roth alive. He gave Roth purpose beyond the asylum. He was his savior. His benefactor.

He owned his soul.

“Kruger . . . . .”

The voice of Hastur made Roth’s skin crawl with despair and anxiety. Roth was panicking and wanting to escape. But here he was, trapped with The Yellow King. What did it want from him? What did it need from him? Roth went so many years without having to summon it.

It owned Roth soul and that was just about the end of it. One soul for power, one soul for the chance to survive Hell. Roth’s powers came from The Yello King, by his royal blessing.

Through him, Roth drove his enemies to madness. With him, Roth could be so more powerful but yet, he dared not to. The Yellow King was a virus unlike anything. Roth knew the risk of being overexposed to his maddening presence.

He did not want to become subsumed by him. He did not desire to become trapped in Carcosa.

And yet . . . there was something inside him that wanted to.

He wanted to escape to that place of twin suns. Black stars and the shores of Hali. He wanted to drown in the debauchery of Carcosa. To succumb to the yellowing madness of the city.

It scared Roth to want these things.

Before Roth could speak, The Yellow King vanished in blinding light to the front seat. Now closer, mow looming with alien apathy towards Roth.

“Escape . . .  you are going to leave?”

It was pain to be this close to oblivion. Roth looked away in fear, knowing The Yellow King sees all.  Roth bowed his head, his eyes closed as he knew he could not escape.

“Yes.”

The Yellow King’s face turned towards the void. He could not be read. Or understood. He was alien a foreign, strange in every way beyond what was expected of Gods. Roth was in the hands of this entity. One false move, one moment of wavering loyalty, would end his entire struggle.

“There will be pain. Truth. Revelation. The beginning of the end of things. The strings on humanity.”

Roth looked with anxious curiosity on his eyes towards Hastur. What did he mean by that? What did he mean by Revelation? Is he speaking of the end times? What of truth? What was this about the strings on humanity?

“It will burn you. You will gain knowledge. You will see what lies beyond the door. You see will see. You will see.”

“See what?”

“The lion. The snake. The mockery of Gods.”

Roth wasn’t sure what that meant. He does not know what that means yet but . . . hopes he never will.

“You will suffer. You will be dragged and quartered by this place. Humiliated and cast aside. You cannot bear that . . .”

“I’ve suffered too much already.” “Ignorant still?”

The mockery of his answer scared Roth into silence as he stared ahead. The Yellow King stared ahead as well.

“You can leave. You will leave. Only, in the end, you will return to this place. Without friends. Without love. Without me.”

Roth stared up and looked puzzled and fear. He didn’t want to believe any of that. There was a part that clings to the idea of freedom from Hell. To escape, this place and never return. But The Yellow King sees all and knows all. He would not lie, but Roth wanted to believe he was lying.

He lied to himself to believe it.

“Look at me.”

Roth was breathing hard as he stared ahead. He does not want to look. He knows what he will see and yet, knows nothing of what he will see. He knows whatever lies beyond the mask is the bane of sanity.

“Look At Me.”

Still, he does not want to turn his head. Every atom screams with fear as Roth resisted.

“LOOK. AT. ME.”

Finally, Roth turned his head and looked. There was blinding light as Roth was returned back to normal. He hears The Yuppie screaming in panic, as Roth realized he was driving into traffic. Though dazed, Roth quickly diverted and narrowly missed wrecking his cab. Slamming on the breaks, Roth stopped the cab as his passenger screamed every obscenity at him.

Roth was too drained to even respond. He slouched in his seat as The Yuppie screamed at him.

Roth looked ahead.

He cannot see past the rain.

[blood-mocha-latte]

Rie, hear me out.

Modern Luztoye where Luz dresses up as a cheerleader for Joe.

That's it, holding your hand <3

this prompt. this prompt...................... ewi the brain worms you gave me............. anyways. it's being posted in the next week.

if y'all want to be tagged when it's posted, let me know <3

~ tidbit time ~

--

“‘s classy.” Joe says lightly, the backs of his hands brushing against the hem of the skirt as he spreads his fingers against the width of George’s thighs. “It ain’t over the top. I like the shoes.”

George snorts, an abrupt laugh that almost surprises him. “Well, I suppose you’ve always been rather old-fashioned.” He murmurs, fingers moving to lace together at the back of Joe’s neck, pulling him into another kiss. Joe just hums into it.

“Mm. Yeah, well, I love it. I love you.” 

And George’s heart picks up for the thousandth time, same as it always does, because they can say it a million times in as many seconds and have, maybe, since he first told Joe a year ago, but it will never stop being so new. So soft and near-fragile in the palms of his hands. 

“I love you too.” He says back, against Joe’s lips, because he can and will and will always want to.

Joe kisses him again before he can lose too much of his train of thought. “C’mon.” He murmurs after a moment, hands slipping under George’s thighs before he realizes what Joe’s doing as the other pulls him carefully off of the truck. “Before you freeze to death.”

“I’m too drunk to be cold.” George tells Joe lightly, but obliges him nonetheless, saddle shoes hitting the road with a soft sound as he makes his way for the passenger side of the Chevy. 

Joe opens the door for him absently, because of course he does, and George has to huff, tilting upwards to kiss him again before dropping into the seat with a relieved groan. “Rather old-fashioned.” He murmurs again, the words of it, making the corner of his mouth crook up. Joe huffs as he shuts the passenger door.

George smoothes the skirt out again as he gets situated (something that’s reaching close to an addictive habit), and can’t help but laugh as Joe drops into the driver's seat and pauses, watching him.

George smiles, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the seat, pressing his cheek into the headrest to watch Joe.

“You’re givin’ me the time to be a real flirt, when all I wanna do is get home.” He murmurs, heart tripping warmly in his chest at the way that Joe’s gaze sharpens as he curls his fingers along the fabric at his inner thigh, hiking it up a few inches. Joe just huffs, seemingly unbothered, but George can see how his eyes shine as he starts the ignition.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He asks, and George just blinks at him, slow and soft, trying not to smile too wide and ruin the bit all together.

“Reckon you should take me home.” He murmurs, in the best Southern that he could manage. “You bought the farm, after all.”

Joe pauses before he backs out, at that, hand on the back of George’s seat as he turns to squint his eyes at him. “What?”

George pauses back, for a split second. “I don’t know.” He admits after a moment. “I’m actually not sure what buying the farm means.”

Joe blinks, but shifts into reverse anyways. “I don’t, either.” 

[c0zmo-writes]

Notes for chapter 1 of Flock Together.

Chapter 1- So carry me from these walls, brother of mine.

@possum-quesadilla @crawlingcarcass @raineisinkless @katslitterbox

The chapter title is from “Rule #4- Fish in a Birdcage” by Fish in a Birdcage.

“The woman in the passenger seat— Delia— wrinkled her nose at the fetid stench of death.”

Unlike Delia and Charles, Lydia is very unbothered by the smell of roadkill.

“Maybe there’ll be a psycho hiding out in the woods. Maybe he’ll break into our house, brutally murder us in our sleep. That would be exciting.”

Maybe something to keep in mind…

“...I’m excited to do some birdwatching,”

Poor Charles just wants to watch his birds.

“Delia seemed so distracted by the state of the cabin, that she didn’t even notice when Lydia slipped the millipede into her bright red hair.”

Gotta keep Delia on her toes.

“The stairs in this house were steep, uneven, and seemed just a few pounds of pressure away from breaking, the kind of stairs designed to break your ankle and send you straight into cardiac arrest as you slipped down them.”

The description of these stairs is entirely based off of the stairs in The Conjuring House. Walking up and down the stairs was the scariest part of being there. I was terrified. I hit my head on the ceiling twice.

“The wallpaper was plum purple, strewn with carnations, hyacinths, and dark red roses.”

The wallpaper color is based off of the color of her bedroom walls in the movie, and the flowers on the wallpaper are symbolic. Carnations for love, hyacinths for sorrow, dark red roses for mourning, all representing her feelings for her dead mom.

“There were wooden carvings of cryptids and unicorns and mushrooms on a large dresser.”

I wonder how those got there…

“A scream echoed from downstairs. Looks like Delia found the millipede,”

Delia did, in fact, find the millipede.

“Lydia, if you don’t grab the damn broom and help me dust this hellhole right now, I will go insane, and I will take everyone in this family with me.”

Movie reference!

“Come back up. The landlord specifically said she didn’t want us going into the basement.”

Perhaps there’s a reason for this :)

“Come on, it’s just one song. You loved it too, remember? Shake, shake, shake, Senora—“

Musical reference.

“She huffed and trudged upstairs, gripping the railing so as not to become a victim of gravity.”

She’ll become a victim gravity soon enough.

[paalove]

i would love a coda to new year's where the sandray makeout in the car gets interrupted by boston slinking back to his car without nick, & ray, this time with sand's blessing, leaves to take care of his friend & takes him out for some late-night commiseration ice cream. na na na 🥺

sad and lonely little boston with his rejected present :(

on ao3 here

...

The rooftop is theirs, kissing in Ray’s car and the starlight, and he’s leaning into Sand and feeling both their smiles and thinking maybe the world is theirs too, when they hear a door open somewhere behind them and pull apart.

Ray turns and sees Boston putting something into the back of his car.

Nick isn’t with him.

He looks drooped and lost – like he had earlier, when Mew had dug at him, and like he hadn’t when Nick had arrived.

He turns in his seat to watch as Boston closes that back door, a little way across the roof.

“Leaving me all alone in your car again? Always running off for a friend in distress,” Sand says, pulling Ray’s attention back to him and his fond smile.

Ray blinks and remembers a time after a different party, kissing in this car, and he says, “I’m not doing-“

“-Go. I’ll take the car back.”

He’s still caught in the space between the two parties, only a few months and everything in the world has changed, as he feels a swift and not-unexpected surge of trembling love towards Sand, who hasn’t changed at all except in how he’s smiling, this time.

Sand strokes his jaw with a barely-there, gentle caress, leans in once to brush his lips over Ray’s just as lightly, and adds, “Quickly – before he drives away.”

Taking out the airpod, he looks at it, then puts it into Sand’s ear and smiles at the way he shakes his head.

Ray runs up to the car.

It’s just starting as he opens the door and slides into the passenger side and says, “Uncle Boom’s ice cream?”

“What?”

That’s the worst sign yet – not even a what the fuck, Boston is just blinking at him in unaggressive confusion instead of trying to push him out of the still-open car door.

“He does that New Year sale where the bowls are like buckets and he won’t stop you if you try to mix stupid flavours,” Ray says, “Come on, I’ll pay.”

A smile has caught about half of Boston’s mouth when he says, “Where the fuck’s your boyfriend, man, take him out.”

Ray puts on his seatbelt.

Conveniently, Sand takes that opportunity to start Ray’s car, pull backwards out of the space, and slowly drive behind Boston’s. He gives a little finger-wave through the window, and Ray leans out of the door to wave back.

When he gets back inside, he closes it and says, “He just left.”

“Yeah?” Boston says, kind of sarcastic but the smile has grown a little more.

Shrugging, Ray says, “Yeah. Ice cream?”

Boston gives in.

It’s their personal hangout spot, separate from the other two, so it’s not like they’re going to run into Mew and Top there now they’ve left – not April and Cheum either, because they for sure have food back there and they won’t want to run around. That’s probably why Boston actually drives the right way.

He tells Ray, after a couple of minutes of the radio’s quiet soundtrack, “Nick wouldn’t take it.”

“What wouldn’t he take?” Ray looks at Boston’s face, his clenched jaw and eyes on the road and doesn’t add, you were supposed to wait until ice cream, man.

Boston shrugs in the painful, stiff way that never seems as unbothered as he means, because he’s kind of like Ray where he can never hide the feelings he most wants to, and he says, “It’s in the back seat.”

Probably unsafe and definitely annoying to the driver, Ray immediately turns around and wriggles and stretches until he can pick up the large rectangular black object that Boston must have been stowing away when Ray spotted him. It, he discovers, is a photograph.

In the Bedroom with Boston, he thinks, followed by, oh, Ton.

He’s heard more about Nick and Boston’s whole thing from Nick than he ever did from Boston, and that’s earthshaking in its own way – there had been a time when he and Boston told each other about every hookup, in the exact ice cream place they’re headed to now, but of course Ray hadn’t told him about Sand and Boston hadn’t told him about Nick, and then neither of them had been telling the other anything at all. Certainly they hadn’t told each other sorry.

But now Boston has, and Ray thinks about the things Nick told him and how romantic Boston had seemed to him and he looks at the photo and sees him, for the first time – Boston the romantic.

Boston the boyfriend.

Probably not the second one anymore.

“It’s really nice,” he tells him, after being quiet for too long.

Boston takes nearly as long to say, “But Nick didn’t want it.”

Yeah.

Ray holds it in his lap for the rest of the drive.

The ice cream place is not normally a late-night one, actually, but New Year sales are New Year sales and Uncle Boom is a businessman – there’s still a queue, even though it’s…

Oh, wow, had Ray been running around with Sand for that long?

He can never tell how long it’s been, when Sand is there, all time-measurement abilities suspended so he can focus on more important things, but he’s still a little surprised.

Anyway, the people in front of them seem to be two different groups, so Ray says, “You should find a table, I’ll order.”

“Fuck off,” Boston says almost before he’s done speaking, “I know what fucking flavours you’ll try to get, I’m staying here so I can tell Uncle Boom to ignore you.”

“I’m paying, Ton-“

“-Mango and mint chocolate is a fucking disgusting-“

“-I’m adding bubblegum actually-“

And Ray generously lets Boston win this time, because he’s taking Boston out for a reason, but he still makes sure, as they sit down at one of the plastic tables added specifically for the Near Year sale, to say, “If you mix them the flavours are kind of like the bubblegum vodka martini Plug makes.”

“Liar,” Boston laughs, over their enormous, two-spooned bowl.

He takes a spoonful of Boston’s inferior selection.

Whenever they needed to gossip about hookups, any time back before the two birthday parties that changed everything, he and Boston would come here. The ice cream is good and nobody would be wrinkling their noses or nagging about being careful when either of them brought up, like, choking, or even just not remembering someone’s name.

After about half a minute, Boston says through a mouthful, “Did you mean it?”

Oh, they’re starting, he thinks.

“Mean what?” because it could be about him thinking the picture is nice or something he said at the party or even the fact he got in Boston’s car at all.

Not on that list is Boston’s, “You said you wanted to quit drinking.”

Oh, that.

It had gone better than he’d hoped for, bringing it up with them – Cheum not being there, he thinks guiltily, probably helped, because Mew hadn’t questioned him or openly doubted him or anything like that – but he’d known telling them all had to come eventually, and of course there are questions. Mew is probably going to be hurt if he ever realises Ray’s already started trying.

The other two, he’s practiced explaining to them with his therapist, who wants him to lay it out clearly and try not to feel like he’s presenting a legal defence; with Boston, it’s simpler.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, taking another spoonful, “I figured them- them all, even my dad, actually – them being annoying and mean about it doesn’t mean they’re always wrong, you know?”

“It’s not because your boyfriend went on a sex strike until you agreed? I could tell he wasn’t surprised when you said it.”

Ray snorts, “Sand couldn’t keep one up.”

“Yeah?”

And they’re laughing easily, Boston making a leering face and keeping it up as he faux-seductively licks his spoon and Ray flips him off.

But then Boston goes quiet, brow furrowed as he looks at the table.

It’s hard to hear his next words over the sounds of loud, drunk conversation at the other tables.

“It doesn’t mean they’re always wrong. About me too?”

Oh, right.

The others and the things they can sometimes be mean and annoying about. Boston’s always been one of those.

And Ray could give a knee-jerk, casual answer, and it could be yes, you fucked his boyfriend, Ton, of course they aren’t wrong about you, but it could also be, nah, we’re cool, but instead he tries to think about it, because this is for Boston.

So he tilts his head and looks through the window at the night-time city and says, “They aren’t always wrong about you, no.”

“Always?” Boston asks, following Ray.

This is the time for him to say it, “I’m sorry I backed Cheum up. It never sounded like something you’d do and I think Mew always knew that.”

He wasn’t expecting himself to say the part about Mew.

Where did that come from?

Boston’s face says he wasn’t expecting it either, mouth parted and eyes fixed on him.

“And it sucks about you and Nick,” he adds.

“Fuck you,” Boston says, “I’m not talking about that, let’s talk about how our friends hate me.”

He’s laughing but Ray can see he means it – nothing about Nick.

Ray moves his chair around the corner of the table, shuffles it up so he’s right next to Boston and presses their legs together, elbowing him a little so he elbows back, and says, “I mean, I don’t think Cheum hates you.”

With a sharp laugh, Boston elbows him again and says nothing.

“No, for real, Mew was being all bitchy to you earlier but Cheum wasn’t joining in at all,” he says.

It feels rude to say it about Mew, but Ray doesn’t think he’s wrong even if he also doesn’t think Mew was wrong to be bitchy, it’s like, complicated.

This is probably what Mew feels like when he’s trying to navigate everyone’s beef with Top.

Ugh.

Boston sighs, long and world-weary like he’s not sitting in front of a chocolate, coffee, and lime ice cream bucket, and he tilts his head back and stares at the ceiling and says, “She only feels bad for saying I turned Atom gay.”

“She wouldn’t feel bad if she still hated you, though,” Ray agrees, pointing at him with his spoon and dripping a little of the ice cream onto Boston’s lap – he doesn’t seem to notice, still looking to the ceiling, as Ray adds, “When are you leaving for New York? Do you have an apartment?”

This sigh is somehow even more world-weary.

“It’s going to take fucking forever,” he starts complaining, suddenly animated.

As he explains the problems that come with trying to move up his original visa plans, Ray realises this is a conversation he can actually understand even though it’s about practical stuff – that’s a first for him. Of course it’s because of his plans with Sand.

They go back-and-forth about visas and how stupid they are for a while before Ray turns to the most important thing about this revelation and says, “So that’s a couple months where we can still hang, then.”

Boston snorts, leans back in his chair, and nudges Ray’s knee with his own.

“I was planning on spending the time busy, actually.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Bar hopping,” he counts off on his fingers, “Taking photos. Mostly, fucking any guy in the city I haven’t already… so that means you don’t qualify to hang with me.”

Ray kicks him, and Boston kicks him back and gets him in a loose headlock, and if Ray actually tries to get out he’ll knock over the chairs so he elbows him lightly and says, “Asshole, let me up,” until Boston laughingly does.

“You’re fine with him being mad at you for it,” Boston trails off without quite making it into a question, but Ray sees where he’s going.

He sits up and says, “Mew makes his own decisions, but he wasn’t mad at Cheum.”

They look at each other, and Ray thinks he sees some relief in Boston’s eyes at the answer, barely there in the reflection of the window.

Ray bites his lip and looks out of the window too.

“Me and Sand want to travel,” he adds to the darkness, “We might see New York one day.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

[its-just-fern]

i still have rotting asks in my inbox about the infinity train au that i never answered. theyre like 2-3 years old at this point? sorry about that... but ill answer with what i thought of at the time. (im sure there were more, maybe, but i think i cleared my inbox at some point?) ive gotten worse with answering asks over the years but sometimes the original post gets sudden notes from time to time.. it blows me away!!

notes about finn's part (parts 1-2 combined):

finn gets on the train because of his parental issues/internal struggles that he has in the late seasons

jake (as a passenger - he also works well as a denizen) comes along solely because of his concern for finn. in reality he doesnt actually need to be on the train at all (think of him as kinda jumping in the portal on instinct, betty-style). i think his number would be like. 1. hes too unbothered

finn losing his arm so fern can be in the real world mirrors tulip losing her pocketknife for lake. fern would come from a sort of "topiary car" where the leaves can "mirror" you (idk how else to explain this one.. think of it like these mechanical mirrors, maybe)

betty would be amelia. chicle would be the other metal cop.

notes about pb/marcy's part (part 3):

in general i didnt see bonnie dying at the time because... i love bubbline LMAOOOOO im weak im sorryyyy. her dying would be on brand tho and i love tragedy

i never thought of bonnie and marcy as killing denizens intentionally, but they would definitely still "claim" the train as theirs... the apex would instead be like their "kingdom", with them as the "princess/queen"

marcy might have little regard for denizens, while bonnie might see them more as things to "examine". i think instead of intentionally trashing each car, bonnie would try to specifically "improve" them how she sees fit (which messes them up anyways)

fp might start out like... hiding out in another car, having run away from the car she came from (flame kingdom) with the help of cinnamon bun. she was trapped in the kingdom but didnt know that bonnie trapped her there in the first place (part of her "improvements").. bonnie, of course, lets her "join" them, but actually wants to re-trap her.

betty, as amelia, instead of making turtles (trying to revive/save simon), kept making flame people -> leads to fp's existence.

unfortunately nothing for part 4! i made this au way before that and i dont really feel like figuring it out right now.. but ill leave it to you all!

if im being honest i think lake would lowkey dislike him/find him disturbing? to them i think he would seem like a gigantic asshole with how he treats finn, even if his problems are very relatable to them. LOL

but in a goofier world where digestion is possible for all species they would probably be like drinking buddies

maybe peppermint butler.

[likecarl]

twin flame

Do you ever think about how this is going to end?

I think about this often. My feet across your lap as you sat in the passenger seat of my Toyota. Your face a mask of nonchalance as you idly ran your thumb across my ankle. I think I’d expected you to flinch at the question. Have some sort of reaction to me shining a light on the reality of the situation that we both chose to skillfully dance around.

You didn’t flinch. You just looked me in the face unblinking, that easy, arrogant, crooked smile on your face. I used to think you were my twin flame.

You know this can only end one way. And it’s going to hurt.

I think about this often. Because you didn’t flinch. How could someone live with the Sword of Damocles suspended over their head every day, and be so… unbothered? You didn’t flinch. You didn’t answer. You just kissed me. In retrospect I realize it was because you didn’t have an answer. You didn’t like it when I pointed out the elephant in the room. Back then I thought our reckless abandon was romantic.

I used to think you were my twin flame. I’ve always had a proclivity towards throwing rocks at my heart and calling it romantic. So, it’s not surprising that I let you skip stones across it for so many years. Let you lead me by the hand with blinders on, skillfully maneuvering me around all of the holes in your story. Let you say “I love you” and let myself believe it. How did you not flinch?

I think about it often. That day in the car. I think that’s the day I started to feel comfortable living in the shadow of a sword.

I used to think you were my twin flame. Now nothing feels right without the threat of that blade.

And I hate you for that.