#au: i'm the devil in the details

[amethystina]

The Devil Judge Meta: Introducing Kang Yo Han and Kim Ga On

Hello. I'm sick with a fever and you all know what that means — another needlessly long and detailed meta about The Devil Judge. Because sometimes I like to be predictable.

Last time we looked at The Bus Scene and this time we'll be focusing on Kang Yo Han and Kim Ga On's character introductions and what we find out about these two characters during them. And, to some degree, how they mirror and differ from each other. Spoilers: it's glorious.

Disclaimer: This is by no means a complete meta. I know next to nothing about filmmaking and all that goes into it, so this focuses mostly on the characters and what an amateur like me can observe during the respective scenes. But I might miss or skip over certain details, especially things related to cinematography and such. I'm a librarian, not a director, and I just want to yell about characters I love and how absolutely SPECTACULAR this drama is at presentation and storytelling. So sue me.

Second Disclaimer: I was, once again, left unsupervised with Photoshop while having a fever. So I, once again, take no responsibility for the resulting screenshots.

Third Disclaimer: This meta will not be entirely chronological but instead focus on one aspect of their introduction at a time, so there will be some jumps back and forth. But, hopefully, it will still be easy to follow.

And so, without further ado, you will find more under the cut!

Now. The first thing the drama wants to establish is that Kang Yo Han and Kim Ga On are very different characters in terms of personality, experience, status etc. And how do they do this, you ask? By putting them in similar situations during their introductions but having several key differences that highlight their respective characterisation. This allows the viewer to more easily compare them and draw the desired conclusion — it might even happen subconsciously for some. Because, yes, their introductions are mirrored in so, so many ways and it's very effective once you put them side by side and actually study them more closely.

The devil's in the details, so to speak — pun ENTIRELY intended.

So! The first time we see them, they're on a mode of transportation, currently travelling through a tunnel. In Yo Han's case, it's a tunnel for cars:

In Ga On's case, we don't get a clear shot of the tunnel itself until later, but one can quickly deduce that he's in one given the details during the first second he's on screen:

Most people recognise this as a subway train and that the lighting must mean that they're either underground or inside a tunnel.

Now, here's where the fun begins since while they're both in dark tunnels, there are already some noticeable and important differences. Yo Han is in an expensive car — a vehicle he drives himself — and not only is he alone inside it, but practically alone on the road as well, with only the distant headlights of an oncoming car in sight. There are no cars (that we can see during this first shot) heading in the same direction as Yo Han.

Ga On, on the other hand? He is, as mentioned, on a subway car, driven by someone else, surrounded by other commuters. People who, in other words, might not be heading to the exact same destination as him, but at least in the same direction. They're all on the same train together.

So, even here, within literal seconds, while they're still both in this dark tunnel — unrevealed to the world, if you will — we are told several important things about these two characters:

Their current level of power over their own destiny (driving themselves vs. a mere passenger)

Their existence in society (solitary vs. one of the people)

Their social economic status (fancy car vs. subway train)

And, finally, the direction their moving (against the tide vs. the same as everyone else)

Beautiful, isn't it?

And this stark contrast continues once they emerge from their respective tunnels as well, with Yo Han driving out into the night:

And Ga On arriving to a burst of morning sunlight:

The consistent theme of Yo Han as darkness and Ga On as light will never not make me go feral, okay? I LIVE for that shit. And I'm still struggling against the impulse to write a meta about it because it would be insanely long and probably devolve into incoherent babbling at some point.

BUT I DIGRESS.

Once leaving the tunnel, they both find themselves on a bridge, crossing a wide expanse of… well, pitch-black darkness in Yo Han's case and water in Ga On's. Crossing a bridge is often meant to symbolise a transition or the start of something new. So, clearly, both Yo Han and Ga On are embarking on a new journey and we, the viewers, are invited to follow along during it. They begin these journeys roughly at the same time and, not so surprisingly, we soon find out that their paths are destined to cross. So while their journeys may have started separately, they'll eventually end up entwining and continuing forward together.

(… because we needed to make this drama sound even more like a star-crossed lovers romance, I guess?)

But where are they going then, you ask?

Well, that's another beauty of this introduction since you, as the viewer, aren't quite sure where Yo Han is heading, are you? Everything is just darkness. He could be going anywhere. We can assume he's heading to the fancy party we see in between the shots of Yo Han, sure, but we can't be certain. He's still very mysterious because, at this point, he's inside a car and we haven't seen how he's dressed or even his full face. His purpose is unknown — as is his final destination.

And that, as we all know, will actually remain more or less hidden from us until the very last episode. So I guess it's good that they establish his unpredictability from the very start? xD

Anyhow. They keep us in suspense for quite some time where Yo Han is concerned, having us watch him drive across Seoul. But one consistent thing is that he remains mostly alone on the road, even if we sometimes see other cars in the background. And, quite often, he's seen driving across or against the other cars, paving his own way, if you will.

(This is, of course, also because it's easier for the viewer to follow a single car as opposed to one in crowded traffic. So there are definitely productional reasons as well, but I do love the extra spice it adds to the reading of Yo Han's character)

We have no idea where Yo Han is headed and he could make a turn at any time, changing the direction of the car if he so chooses.

This is quite different from Ga On since all the context clues surrounding him — his clothes, the practical backpack, the number of other commuters on the train, the dusky morning sunlight — quickly leads to the assumption that he's heading to work. We might not know where he works yet, but there are still a lot fewer questions and uncertainties about his destination. Ga On's journey is, at least at first glance, predictable and mundane, especially compared to Yo Han's.

Ga On is on a train he's not driving, moving on a track with only one way to go. It's so predictable it's almost boring, the outcome set before it even began. If Ga On wants to change his path, his only option is to get off the train — that's how little control and influence he has. He's not without control — there is a choice involved, in getting on the subway in the first place — but it's a far cry from Yo Han who's in complete control, driving himself to wherever he's heading.

(And yes, do take a moment to ponder the beautiful new layer this adds to Yo Han telling Ga On to drive them to the fundraising gala. Made even more intriguing by that stunt Yo Han pulled by suddenly yanking on the wheel, testing Ga On's control over the car. And the significance of Ga On getting inside the car with Yo Han when he's telling Professor Min that he's eloping with his sugar daddy switching sides. Go on. Ponder it. I'll wait.)

Now, moving on to their faces.

Here we have two very different approaches. With Yo Han, we see glimpses of his face throughout his car ride, like this right here:

We can only barely make out his features with the majority of his face being in shadow. And this theme continues, showing us one piece here, another there, but never his fully lit face. Some parts are always hidden, outside of view, or in shadow. We get fractures of the man rather than the complete picture.

And then, of course, they hit us with this one:

Which (if you can tear your gaze away from, well, The Gaze) you'll find is about four cityscapes, twisted, mirrored, or layered on top of/next to each other. Which is, of course, very cool and pretty, but also an indication of Yo Han's character and the topsy-turvy ride we're about to go on with this man. Especially when you add the fact that we haven't even seen his entire face ONCE so far.

Translation: This bitch be complicated, fam.

Basically, Yo Han has layers upon layers and even if we're shown several parts of the whole and can assume we know what we'll find at the end, it might be a mistake to think we know him.

(I also like this shot because I can't help but wonder if this is what the inside of Yo Han's mind looks like. I mean, how he might look at a situation from different angles, layered on top of each other, flipped and tipped to its side or even upside down. Idk. It's an interesting thought.)

This build-up of not showing Yo Han's face continues for a long time, not just during the car ride but also after he arrives at the venue, where he's seen walking the halls. Again, just like while he was driving, he's often walking alone, past other people — even on the other side of a pane of glass at one point — to once again highlight his solitary and contrary path in life.

All of this makes it almost anti-climactic that the first time we see Yo Han's at least adequately lit face — when it's not being split up by shadows or camera angles — is this:

It's not even a particularly clear shot and he's surrounded by other people to the point where he's still sort of obscured. It's almost a little disorienting after all that build-up, especially since we see him relaxed and smiling, comfortably walking through a crowd of shouting people. It's in no way as flashy as that build-up made us believe. Why all that secrecy if this is how he's finally introduced? Wasn't it supposed to be special?

(Or maybe he's still hiding? Maybe this isn't his real face, either? The plot thickens!)

Ga On, in contrast, has an incredibly short build-up. We see him open the train door, walk a couple of steps, grab a handrail, and BAM.

No cheeky glimpses, fancy shots, or prolonged tension. Just: "Here he is — your boy."

(Thank you — we will treasure him)

Which, when put next to Yo Han's long and layered reveal, is pretty telling. Here's someone straightforward, to-the-point, and, most likely, honest. He doesn't need a long, complex introduction because what you see is what you get. There's something almost comforting in that clarity and it helps make Ga On feel more approachable and relatable, especially in comparison to Yo Han.

(May I also point out the hilarity of this being the first time we see Ga On's face and he's already looking at Yo Han? Better start early, I guess?)

And, obviously, instead of the darkness, artificial lights, and camera flashes of Yo Han's intro, Ga On gets this:

He is soft and warm like mash potato.

That's not to say that Ga On is without depth or layers, however. If we continue on the concept that light is very important in this drama (which we know it is) there are a couple of seconds here during Ga On's intro that are VERY intriguing. Because he, much like Yo Han, does get a moment of foreshadowing as well — of conflicts and reveals to come.

I present: The Three Stages of Kim Ga On

Shown in the order they appear in the drama, mere seconds apart. And, depending on how you choose to view the ending of the drama, could perhaps be said to show the progression of his character.

Anyway. Feel free to interpret this as a cheeky little wink, hinting at Ga On's hidden darkness. If you're into that kind of thing — which I clearly am. Because they didn't have to make the entire subway car go almost completely dark there for a second, but they did. And I, for one, am delighted.

(Yes, I'm having the time of my life, thank you for asking)

Now, perhaps you're tempted to argue that there wasn't much of that infamous mirroring here, with their situations being similar but with important differences in the key details. But that's only because I've been holding out on these two screenshots, showing both Yo Han and Ga On the seconds before their faces are revealed:

Just look at that. Look at the similarities and marvellous, wonderful differences that help establish who these two characters are — and how they contrast each other.

Yo Han arrives in a fancy suit to a red carpet event, people cheering, cameras flashing, and priceless art just on the edge of the shot. It's colourful, it's expensive, and it's important. There are even ropes separating him from the onlookers, signifying that his arrival is expected — he's the main event. The whole shot reeks of money, power, and prestige.

Meanwhile, Ga On is wearing a thick coat and backpack on a drab, dimly lit subway train, with graffiti on the walls, sleepy commuters lounging in their seats, and no one paying attention to him. Ga On is right there, amongst the rest of the people, and it's in no way important. He is in no way significant. He's just a normal guy — one more commuter on the train, heading to work.

Just these two shots alone tell you so much about these characters and what to expect from them. It is, quite frankly, masterful character establishment, especially when you put them one after the other like this.

Because, dear LORD, from a framing perspective? Both having objects on each side, framing them in, and people occupying roughly the same space? (though they're lower on Ga On's and higher on Yo Han's which, of course *chef's kiss*) And how the lines of the red carpet line up with the lights from Ga On's subway, turning them almost into literal mirrors of each other? Except instead of showing a reflection, it shows the rich vs. the poor — the high society vs. the low.

K, take the wheel, I'm going to need a moment.

(*pterodactyl screech*)

MOVING ON.

Even if Ga On's coat looks nice and all, they still make sure to establish that, yes, he's from a poor background. Partly through his mode of transportation but also this shot (which is one of my favourites):

Very often, the use of stairs, escalators, and elevators symbolise a character's status and their climb upwards or fall from grace. In Ga On's case, we see him riding the escalator on this journey he's embarked on, essentially showing us how he's moving up in the world — that he's heading somewhere new, to a place he's not originally from. To a level of influence and power he's not had before. This new job is Important. Which is only further strengthened later during the day, when he has to descend a cracked, dimly lit staircase in a bad neighbourhood on his way home, taking him back to the level where he originally came from.

Yo Han, meanwhile, stays the same almost the entire time, both while driving and walking through the venue. His journey is unchanged in terms of status, fame, and riches. The only exception is a brief moment of him walking up a staircase but it's short enough to have less of an impact than Ga On's ascent.

There's also the added layer of Ga On not walking up these steps and instead being taken there on an escalator — once again showing us that he's not really picking his destination on his own. He's just following along.

And, finally, of course: the lighting. The gorgeous lighting.

Ga On, as always, symbolises light though here I'd argue it has the additional meaning of rich vs. poor and, considering the advertisement slapped on the wall, influence vs. powerlessness. He's emerging from the dark into the light, the edge almost sharp enough to touch.

Just like stairs and elevators can symbolise status, to draw a line — literal or otherwise — and have a character interact with it says a lot about their personality, actions, and coming journey. An abundance of storytelling can be hidden in these lines, to show differences in status, influence, and opinions. It's also a very good way to build tension and create conflict.

And, in Ga On's case, he's crossing it. This is a step on his journey — one of the bridges he's crossing on the way to the new beginning he's facing. With this, Ga On is heading out into a world on a completely different level than he initially grew up in.

And he looks so hopeful, too! Gazing upward, into the light.

(This screenshot wasn't entirely necessary to prove my point, I just think he's cute)

And this brings us to the last area I want to focus on, which is their position/standing with the people and within society. Since this, too, is made very clear to the viewer during their introductions. Partly through the social-economic differences we've already touched on, but also how they interact with other people.

We see both of these men pass by the signs of unrest in their country and, quite quickly, their respective standings are established. Yo Han, for example, is seen driving through the chaotic, burning streets of Seoul:

But, clearly, he's not really touched by it. First of all, he's got the protection of the car to shield him from the literal blaze and, second, the car itself shows just how far removed he is from this. The contrast between the fancy car and the burning streets is wonderful (or, well, horrible, actually, but you know what I mean). Also, since he's inside the car, we don't get to see his reaction to any of this. Is he horrified? Outraged? Sad? Neutral? We have no idea.

There's even this shot to further hammer home just how distant Yo Han is from the struggle of the everyday people:

Not only are they separated by a wall which, as you can see, creates another line. But, unlike Ga On, neither Yo Han nor the people are crossing it. They're staying on their separate sides for now, within sight of each other but not touching or challenging the status quo.

And, once again, Yo Han's car shows the opulent world he comes from, while the people protesting are walking. You can also see that Yo Han is heading in the completely opposite direction from everyone else. And, of course, you have the added bonus of the people walking into the light — symbolising hope and righteousness — and Yo Han is driving, well, we can't quite see where, but it looks like it's going to be dark.

Absolute goddamn poetry.

And what about Ga On, you ask? Unsurprisingly, his reaction — and relationship — to the protesting people is completely different.

Not only is he walking �� just like they were — but he's right there, next to them. He's one of them. He even acknowledges the protest by looking at the man's sign. And, unlike Yo Han, we get to see his reaction which, while subtle, shows quite a lot of discomfort. He keeps walking without pausing, sure, but it's clear that he's uncomfortable. He almost looks ashamed, even, since he tilts his head down as he walks past the protesting people.

That hopeful, bright-eyed optimism is suddenly nowhere to be seen and, very quickly, establishes one of Ga On's main conflicts, i.e. his desire to help the people but lack of power to do so since he is one of the people. He's not rich and famous like Yo Han.

Which is only further proved when Ga On passes yet another line — this one even guarded by men with guns, showing just how few are allowed the privilege:

This line is even clearer than the one when he emerged from the subway and the way he crosses it, without hesitation, says a lot about his bravery and boldness. But we can also see that it takes him past the protests, away from the people, and into the safe, guarded world of the rich and powerful. It doesn't mean he has to stay there, but its shows, once again, that he's going somewhere new, crossing boundaries and expectations.

And, just to emphasise this a little bit more, in case we didn't catch on yet, this happens:

He immediately gets stopped and asked to prove why he should be allowed in this space. Implying that he doesn't belong. But we quickly find out that, despite his origins, this is actually where he's supposed to be — he's just new. He's reached the destination of his journey (for now).

It's also important to note that we don't get to follow Yo Han on his route to work even if they both crossed that bridge at the start. Because while they're both embarking on something new, Yo Han's journey was taking him to the venue where he's named the new chief judge of the Live Court Show, but going in to work at the Supreme Court? Clearly nothing new to Yo Han. He's already there when Ga On arrives, even, showing that Yo Han, unlike Ga On, is comfortably where he belongs. Yo Han has existed in this world for quite some time already.

Ga On's arrival at the Supreme Court also shows just how much of a nobody he is. His face isn't recognised, so he's clearly not famous. Meanwhile, Yo Han showed up at his destination to applause and a red carpet and, before long, got this framing:

He is, quite literally, above the regular people, signifying not only how rich he is, but his status and importance. So while both Yo Han and all the organisers of the Live Court Show keep insisting that it's for the people, this shot here tells you everything you need to know. Because Yo Han is still untouchable to these people, in his fancy suit, broadcast on a huge TV screen. He's not one of them, even if he claims to represent them. His peers — i.e. the only people in the same room as him, who aren't seeing him through a TV broadcast — are other rich people or reporters. Telling, much?

I also love the added detail of how bright the screen is, like a beacon of hope in the dark, but it's artificial light, created by man, so how true is it? This is very different from Ga On who is often bathed in natural sunlight, making his light and the hope he offers seem much more sincere.

Anyhow! Let's also take a (quick) detour to discuss colours because they, too, play a role. While both of them start in more or less the same colour scheme (dark, muted blues, greens, greys, and black) they quickly head in different directions once they emerge from their respective tunnels.

Yo Han gets bright sparks of colours — some of them even fluorescent — though, most notably, glowing oranges and angry reds. There is a lot of colour in Yo Han's introduction, making it very rich, warm, and luxurious, especially once he arrives at the venue. But it's all so bright it almost feels fake. And, perhaps more importantly, you have all the fires and chaos. While both introductions show protests and unrest, Yo Han's portray a much more violent and angry side of it — a much more frightening one. And, perhaps, a bit of foreshadowing as to what kind of person Yo Han is.

Ga On, on the other hand, stays in that more neutral colour space aside from some bright glimpses of warm, natural sunlight. It's calm and unassuming, if also a bit grey and mundane, showing his low status. But it's also less artificial, which makes him feel more like an honest, ordinary person. The red pops up here, too, though, on the protest signs, connecting back to the chaos and anger we saw in Yo Han's colouring. So while we can see that they both exist in the same world that blends together at times, they are kept separate through their colouring during their introduction.

In conclusion: It's often said that how you introduce a character is vital since whatever a viewer sees first will, most likely, colour their understanding of the character for the duration of the story. It can of course evolve as more information is gathered but, in the long run, that first introduction is incredibly important.

And it's clear from what we've seen here that a lot of thought has been put into these introductions. Not only are they meant to tell us who these characters are with all the context clues and details, but also how they mirror each other. And, by extension, their relationship to each other. One on its own would still say much about that character, but it's only when you view them together that you can get the full depth and meaning behind them. Only when you contrast Yo Han's mysterious and flashy intro to Ga On's muted, more natural entrance can you fully grasp the scope of these characters — and how they're meant to be played against and complement each other.

Made even clearer by how both of their introductions involve an initial journey — a new beginning — but it's only once both of them have completed it (Ga On's taking place the morning after Yo Han's) that their introductions are finished and the rest of the story begins. There's a certain kind of beauty in how these scenes show two different journeys — when they took place, how they took place, who embarked on them — but they still reached the same destination in the end. Yo Han and Ga On's journeys both take them to the Supreme Court and, more specifically, the Live Court Show. That is where their paths are destined to cross.

And that, right there, is the core of their story and this entire goddamn drama. And also the one thing I want you all to take with you as you leave this meta.

The introduction of Kang Yo Han and Kim Ga On is ultimately done with one overarching goal in mind.

To bring them together and allow for their shared journey to begin.

*Mic drop*

[aloesarchives]

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros #2: New Addition to the Family!

TW/Warnings: Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, Pregnancy, Mention of Creampies but not sexual, unhinged crack, JJK OC(but not main x Reader)

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns/Usage: She/Her, Mama/Mom

It was about time I finished this, been sitting in my drive for a few months. Anyway, this is a general headcanon that takes place mostly in my Modern Au as Mayumi will appear in future along with her bio. But she may appear in my "Toji Lives" au depending how I'm really feeling, I will probably age her up if I do.

If you has questions or wanna ask more about her, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox!

Introducing:

Name: Mayumi (L/N) Fushiguro

Kanji Name: 万優三

Age: 2-3(Modern Au)

Given how Toji is a dog 25/8 whenever he’s given any alone time with you, Megumi is genuinely surprised he and Tsumiki don’t have at least two or more younger siblings.

It mostly comes down to you and Toji’s schedules and how having another child or having more children wouldn’t be the best choice for you two and the kids themself.

It was decided by you AND Toji that Megumi would be your last child since baby Megumi was a hassle and you two were dealing with two kids under the age of three. As time went on, raising the two was hard work but both of you two managed. Now Tsumiki and Megumi are in high school and can function, there’s no need for you and Toji to treat them like children even though they will always be your babies.

But with Tsumiki and Megumi always away at school, it’s mostly you and Toji at home. Yes, it was nice and peaceful to have your house with you and your hubby. But you start longing for the days your children were younger and small. Missing when Megumi would call you Mama and Tsumiki with Mommy. You become all sentimental especially looking through family pictures throughout the house and the family albums. You started to miss having to take care of a little one in the house.

Toji notices this change in your behavior so he asks what's on your mind. When you tell him you missed your children being children, he suggested having one more child. This shocked you considering that Toji told you himself that Megumi was your two’s last child. He didn’t want to have any more after that because Megumi was a handful. You told him if he’s not comfortable and isn’t ready for another one that he shouldn’t force himself just to make you happy. You’ll just satisfy it with old baby pictures from the past.

You didn’t want to have a child just because you wanted a baby to coddle and that’s it. All children deserve to have a parent but not every parent deserves a child. But Toji brings up the point that both you and him are more stable, both financially and mentally, and have more time to be at home. Since your two other children are teenagers who can do basic functions, you can focus on taking care of a child while taking care of teenagers.

After some time and Toji being the little devil on your shoulder, you gave the green light to have another child. Albeit being the last child you and Toji will ever have.

Toji is excited to have another kid with you and to give Tsumiki and Megumi a younger sibling. But we all know why Toji is REALLY happy to give you another child. As the man got to stepping in making you pregnant and having another kid. This man put so many creampies in you it’s insane.

But you guessed the universe wanted to make it easier the third time because, like all of your pregnancies which is only two, you got pregnant fast. It only took a month of trying to get pregnant. Just like any pregnancy, it was rough. It was your third time so you expected what’s to come, though it had been 12 years since you were last pregnant. But Toji, being your ever loving husband, took care of you and was at your beck and call(Explain in detail here). Your scary, intimidating, and grumpy dog of a husband becomes your sweet and protective puppy all over again(if Toji wasn’t fucking already lol).

You wanted to wait until a visible ultrasound was possible to tell your two children. Luckily, Megumi and Tsumiki would be home right after school ends and you would tell them the news. After dinner, you told your two children to wait a bit at the table as you got the ultrasound that’s sealed in an envelope. As you just place the envelope in front of your kids, they look at it curiously. Toji chuckles as Megumi flips the envelope on both sides before Tsumiki grabs it from her brother.

“So we opened it, Mom? What’s inside?”

“You’ll find out once you open it, my dear.”

Then Tsumiki opens the envelope and finds the picture. She takes it out and holds it so she and Megumi can look at it. It took Tsumiki a few seconds to figure out as her smile extended. Megumi is still confused when his sister says, “Are you really, mom?!”

You nodded your head as Tsumiki stood up from her chair and gave you a hug. Megumi was still trying to wrap his head around the picture. Toji chuckles at his son as he walks over to him. “Are you okay, Megumi? You’ve been staring at that picture like it was a puzzle.” “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be looking at. How come Tsumiki got it before I did?” Tsumiki goes to Megumi as she starts explaining the picture. Before she even finishes, your son looks at you with wide eyes as he blurts out, “You’re pregnant, Mom?!”

Toji bursts out in laughter at Megumi while you smile at your son. You were happy that your children felt the same way you did, especially seeing Megumi smile. You were worried about the age gap between your children and their youngest sibling but it seems to not be a problem to your kids. 

You loved the fact your children were happy about having another sibling.

Ever since the announcement, Megumi has been home more often. While your children have been more considerate(if they weren’t already), Megumi had this shift in behavior that made you a little worried. Once you were in your 2nd trimester, Megumi always tried to be home before sundown. He always called you after school if you needed anything from the grocery or convenience store. He was very reluctant to leave you alone. At home, he always checks up on you whether you’re in the bedroom, sitting on the couch, in your home office/personal rooms. 

As much as Megumi says he doesn’t take after his dad, you thought it was adorable and endearing how Megumi looked after you like Toji did. Because of your already fluctuating hormones, you dote and gush over Megumi way more than usual. You didn’t before because you wanted to respect Megumi’s space and independence. Always playfully pinching his cheeks, giving your mama kisses, petting and ruffling his hair, the list goes on. Megumi never pushes you away or rejects your affection because you are his mama and it makes you happy. It’s also because Megumi loves your affection as it reminds him of when he was a little boy, but since he’s older he wants to be taken more seriously and wants you and Toji to treat him as such. Yet it bit him in the ass because you respected his wishes and only gave him physical affection when he gave the green light.

Megumi, every time he’s home, is stuck at your side. You’re in the kitchen making yourself a drink, Megumi is sitting at the table already. On the couch folding a small laundry batch, Megumi’s helping you with it. Sitting in the garden underneath the tree, Megumi makes you sit on the blanket as sits beside you with his dogs laid out in the shade. The only time he isn’t is when you’re in the bathroom or sleeping in your bedroom. But Megumi sends his dogs to watch over you during your naps. Bro, Toji told Megumi to make room for him on the couch just for him to side-eyes his dad and say “no”. Then Megumi’s dogs appear next to you and lay their heads on your lap. Toji was so annoyed.

But you didn’t know how concerned Megumi was for you until you Gojo called you and said Megumi wanted to opt out of dorming his first year at Jujutsu Tech. You asked Gojo if Megumi said why and Gojo only said, “Megumi-kun only told me he just can’t, (Y/N)-sama.” By the time the call happened you were in your third trimester, meaning you were nearing your due date. You asked Toji if he knew but he had no clue either. You and your husband had a talk with Megumi about it. Megumi said he didn’t need to dorm when he’s in high school because he could just walk to school from the house. But Toji being the better interrogator, he got Megumi to spill the real reason. And so Megumi reveals he doesn't want to dorm once he goes to Jujutsu Tech because he wants to help out around the house and watch his little sibling grow up. 

“Megs, you know I’m home, right?”

Megumi looks at his father before continuing.

“As I was saying, I need to be here in my little sister’s life. I don’t want to be a stranger because she can’t remember me, Mom.”

You gave a reassuring smile to your son, placing a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

“I get it, Megumi. I completely understand where you’re coming from. But I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. I have your sister and papa after all to help me, especially your papa since he can cook anything we ask for. And know the school requires their first years to live on campus, so you do have to live on school grounds. You can always come back whenever you need to, this will always be your home, My Dear Megumi–Wait, little sister? You think it’ll be a girl, Megumi?”

He shrugs, causing Toji to raise his brow at him.

“Ya sure, Megs? You don’t think it’ll be a boy? Don’t you want another boy in the family?”

Megumi squints at his dad as he frowns.

“If I know this family, your genes are too strong, Dad. I’m a complete copy of you and Tsumiki only got Mom’s personality and smile. If it’s a boy, it will be another version of you and I don’t even wanna think about that. Plus, I wouldn’t mind having a baby sister around, especially if she takes after Mom.”

You were flattered and honored that Megumi felt this way while Toji was utterly offended at his own son.

Megumi is a good brother and son all over. He looks after you, he looks out for Tsumiki when he can, and has a good relationship with Toji. You’d think he’ll be an amazing older brother considering how caring and gentle he can be. He may be a little clumsy but he tries and that is what matters. 

You decided to bring Megumi and Tsumiki with you and Toji to your next ultrasound appointment. Luckily, no problems were detected for the precious Fushiguro baby. The doctor and technician also revealed that you were having a baby girl! Tsumiki is visibly happy, slightly shaking Megumi's shoulders while he had a soft smile of his own. Then you looked over at your husband to see him with a wide but genuine grin.

“What’s with the grin, Toji?”

“Nothing, Hon. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Having another girl to spoil~.”

Your pregnancy goes as planned. Much to the dismay of Megumi, you gave birth while they were in school. As soon as Megumi and Tsumiki walk out of the school doors, they see Toji with the car waiting for them. “C’mon you two, don’t ‘cha want to meet your baby sister?” Tsumiki never saw Megumi sprinted towards the car so fast, whipping past her. Toji just laughs at Megumi’s eagerness to go see you and the baby.

Megumi is bouncing his leg in the car as they go to drive to the hospital. Once checking in, Megumi leaves his dad and sister in the dust to go find your room. Once he did, Megumi knocked gently before going inside with Toji and Tsumiki not far behind. Then the kids see the little baby bundled in your arms, sleeping away as you greet your older children. 

Megumi was right because Mayumi took after you except her eye color, which was like Megumi and Toji. But everything else, she was a carbon copy of you. You joked to Toji about being even since your third child looks like you. Toji goes along with it but he can’t help but feel warm inside knowing he has a daily reminder of his beautiful wife.

Megumi and Tsumiki get to hold their little sister. It was game over for Megumi because as soon as she was in his arms, he’d do anything for her. He was melting for his little sister and she didn’t even know it yet.

Megumi tries to spend a lot of time with her until he has to dorm at Jujutsu Tech. Megumi gets sentimental when he sees her baby pictures then and now she’s a toddler speaking full sentences. 

She loves to be held or sitting in someone’s lap. You, Toji, Tsumiki and Megumi, it doesn’t matter. She just likes to be close. It took her a long time to understand personal space but she tries her best. But she mostly likes being held by Toji since he’s tall. Plus she says Toji gives nice hugs. 

But Mayumi is picky when it comes to other people. She gets comfortable through exposure but she doesn’t like other people that much. She knows the others and is fine with them, but she’s not so much a people person. Not shy, just like a small circle.

Mayumi calls Tsumiki Miki-Nee or Tsumi Nee-san, then Mayumi calls Megumi Gumi-Nii and/or Mimi Nii-san.

Toji’s nicknames for Mayumi are Princess, Little Lady, Sweet Pea, and Snapdragon. Sometimes he does a variation of her name like Yumi or Mayu. But those don’t start coming until she’s much older.

Toji gets bummed out that Mayumi hangs out with Megumi and is her self-proclaimed favorite person. But you always remind him that she loves all of you, including him. This is true when she gets picked up by Toji at daycare or Toji comes home and she greets him. Always a smile on her face, arms out-stretched, while saying “Papa!”

Every time Toji is doing something outside, she’s either playing on the engawa, underneath the tree for shade, or running around and playing in the garden and the Koi pond nearby. She mostly likes watching the koi fishes swim around. She even deeps her feet into the crystal blue water as the fish gently nibble on her feet.

She’s also not a picky eater. Will eat anything and everything put in front of her that is seen as food. Her favorites are berries.

Mayumi’s favorite person is definitely Megumi. Toji thought it was him but he soon found out that was not the case. All because her first words weren’t Mama or Papa, her first words were Gumi. Then she started walking because she saw Megumi sitting on the couch while you were making lunch with Toji and took her first steps because she wanted to be near him. Sometimes when she can’t sleep, has a nightmare, or wants someone to take her to the bathroom, she usually goes to Megumi because his room is the closet. Some mornings, you would find Mayumi sleeping alongside Megumi. She usually hangs out in Megumi’s room doing her own thing or playing with his dogs. Megumi doesn’t mind but only gets annoyed when he’s napping or sleeping and she wakes him up. 

But she also hangs out in Tsumiki’s room too. Trying a new hairstyle, clothes, or playing with her stuffed animals. Tsumiki makes Mayumi into a Sanrio fan and even gives some of her plushies to Mayumi because she doesn’t play with them anymore. Every morning, Mayumi goes to Tsumiki to do her hair for the day. Sometimes asking Tsumiki to put a nice hair clip or bow for her. Mayumi’s so happy once she’s done that she shows you and Toji and it’s just so sweet oml.

She loves Megumi’s dogs and shikigamis. But her favorites are his white and black doggos. She loves playing and hugging them, always so gently with them. She likes to put ribbons on them like a collar and read to them. She would nap while laying on top of the white dog’s side and the black one is guarding her feet, making a protective circle around her. Then they allow her to grab onto them to help her practice walking. It’s so cute.

Mayumi knocks on doors before she enters. You don’t know where she picked it up from until you remember knocking on the doors yourself as you hold her. You assume she picked your habit, which turns out to be useful and courteous. It’s always three short knocks, keeping this habit even as a teenanger. 

Mayumi is the apple of the family’s eye and almost everyone, even for Yuuji, Nobara, Maki, Yuuta, Toge, Panda, and fucking Hakari and Kiara. They all have a soft spot for her. The worst of them all is Satoru, proclaiming he’s her big brother to which Suguru smacks him on the hand for it. He tries to win her over but his grand gift-giving actually scares her and makes her wary of him, much to Satoru’s dismay. To which goes to my next point:

Bro, your daughter doesn’t like Satoru. It’s high-key funny. She doesn’t hate him per say. She’s more scared and unsettled by him. One time, she started crying late at night because she had a nightmare. Megumi, with Mayumi in his arms, had to knock on your bedroom door because she was inconsolable and wouldn’t tell Megumi anything. Took all three of you, and eventually Tsumiki joined in, to calm her down. She was sniffling, burying her face into your neck, gripping her little hands as tightly as she could.

“Mayumi, Honey, do you feel a little better now?”

She nods into you but still holding on to you for dear life.

“Can you tell us what’s wrong? Please, Sweetheart?”

“White monster…The white monster with blue-eyes…Scary smile with pointing teeth…”

Tsumiki and Megumi looked at each other confused, you were just trying to figure out where she got that image from, while Toji held a frown before his eyes opened a bit upon realization. He has this goofy smile as he takes Mayumi from your arms and holds her in his own. Upon feeling being inside Toji’s arms, she instantly relaxes and looks up at him with a pout.

“So there’s a monster in your bedroom, Princess? You want me and your big brother Megumi to look for any monsters?”

She looks up at him with her little pout, sniffles, and nods her head quietly. Clutching to Toji like a Koala. Toji gets up with a grunt along with Megumi and they go into her room to look for the “monster”. Turning both the lights on and off along with Megumi bringing his dogs out. Mayumi watches the dogs sniff out her room, under her bed, and her closet.

“No monster, Gumi-Nii?”

Megumi pats her head softly.

“Yeah, no monsters in here, Mayumi.”

She’s still pouting even though Megumi confirmed no monsters while Toji rubs her back gently.

“Well Little Lady, you’re gonna sleep with Mama and I tonight so no monsters can get you. If there are, I’ll eat them.”

Mayumi giggles as he takes her into your shared bedroom to sleep peacefully for the night. Luckily she did as she snoozed away on his chest along with you tucked into his shoulder as your head rested on top of its side.

The next day, Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, and Yaga came to your house to talk about something. As they were discussing in your personal office, Mayumi knocks and she comes in to be held by you. While being held by you, you feel Mayumi shifting in your arms. You look down as she looks at Satoru with wary eyes. She clutches closer to you as she whines. Satrou looks over at her and smiles, causing her to hide into you further. By then, you noticed Satoru didn’t bring his blindfold. He brought his glasses instead so you could see the glimpses of his eyes. As soon Mayumi caught a glimpse of his eyes, she started getting uncomfortable and whining. You’re worried as you try to calm her down but nothing works. Then Toji comes in with the pitcher of water you asked for and she makes grabby hands at him. Your husband takes her in his arms and she points at Satoru while sniffling, making everyone, including you curious.

“What’s wrong this time, Mayumi?”

“Papa,” 

Points at Satoru

“White monster…big blue eyes and white teeth…that’s him…”

Everyone blinks a couple of times except for Toji who has his dastardly grin. Then the silence is broken by Suguru’s cackling followed by Haibara bursting out in laughter. Now you understand why Toji wasn’t so concerned about last night because he knew what Mayumi was talking about. The monster was random, she had a nightmare about Satoru. Nanami smirks while Yaga and Shoko chuckle at this. The only ones who weren’t anything were You and Satoru. You because you’re just shaking your head at Suguru, Toji, and Haibara. While Satoru looked like a hurt puppy that was kicked. You tried to comfort your unofficial oldest child but he just stayed hurt. He let out a sigh when he and your daughter made brief eye-contact before she hid herself in Toji, causing him to bark out in laughter. His laugh joined in with the other two. 

Toji calms down a bit before comforting Mayumi.

“Princess, that’s just Gojo. He’s not a scary monster, see? He’s harmless.”

Mayumi looks at Satoru before looking at you then Toji. She shakes her head at Toji causing him to chuckle. Mayumi says bye to everyone as she leaves the room with Toji. But Suguru wouldn’t stop teasing Satoru about it and it’s an inside joke everyone is in on.

So that’s why Satoru always wears his blindfold on because he doesn’t want to make Mayumi cry. As she gets older, she gets over it and funny enough doesn’t remember this event. No matter how much anyone brings it up, she can’t fully remember any of it. But their relationship gets better later on.

Though Mayumi’s humble, she’s spoiled. By you, Toji, Tsumiki, Megumi, your family, even Suguru and Satoru, specifically Satoru. Mayumi gets an allowance of 38,948 yen(which is roughly equivalent to $250 US dollars) from Satoru every month, and that’s not including holidays and birthdays. Toji and Satoru are fighting each other on who’s better at spoiling her to which you have to calm them down because it shouldn’t be a big deal.

Mayumi gets all sad and pouty when Megumi has to live on campus but Megumi promises to call frequently or visit once a week for her. Megumi gives her his old plushies of his twin dogs, telling her to hug them when she feels like missing him. Because of that, she is overly attached to them. She sleeps with them, goes to the bathroom with them, brings them outside to the garden, goes out, they come with her everywhere she goes.

Megumi hangs a drawing she made of him and Mayumi with his dogs in his dorm room. Also has a picture frame of him and her on his desk too.

When Megumi brings Yuuji and Nobara over, they always want to play with her. Nobara dresses her up while Yuuji shadow boxes with her. When they come over to sleep over, it’s twice the fun. Yuuji and Nobara get bummed out when it’s her bedtime but they remember they see her in the morning so it’s all good.

They also help Megumi watch and babysit her when you and Toji are out on a date/outing. It’s chaotic but it’s fun.

Toji and Megumi will be irritated and annoyed when someone, other than you and Tsumiki, asks them for anything Gojo. But once Mayumi starts asking for things, they won’t even bat an eye. She is spoiled by both her grumpy older brother and menacing father. One time you came home to see your daughter gleefully smiling at you, holding her plushie tightly as she told you about what she did with Toji and Megumi. Then you look over to see your son and husband wearing bows on their heads and had sanrio stickers all over them.

Mayumi’s such a bubbly and happy child that it’s like looking straight at the sun. Of course, she takes after you mostly both in personality and physical traits. It’s not until she’s in teens when Toji’s traits start revealing themselves in her.

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[amorfista]

"Dads at the beach"

The Dad Batch (and Omega) deserve a day of blissful relaxation, I don't think there's anyone out there who wouldn't agree!

While Tech is taking the best nap of his life [Part 1], Omega and Wrecker joined efforts to make the coolest sand-Tipoca city [Part 2] there is out there!

But their mischief did not go unnoticed, and the Dads of the Bad Batch, who were trying to enjoy their drinks and straight up chillax, are having a bit of a hard time doing so with all of Omega's giggles and Wrecker's barely contained laughter!

-"The kriff are these devils up to now...?" - Echo says as he takes a sip of his piña colada.

-"I'll do you one better... How the kark is Tech sleeping through that..?" - Hunter mutters in disbelief.

...TO BE CONTINUED! [Part 4]

Alright... this one took a while. I'm very sorry for the huge delay on this drawing but... some parts of it made me lose my sanity :). I hope you can catch all the small details I laid here and there. Echo's shirt covers his Fives tattoo, which is a bit sad, but that's okay because there's another version ^^:

There, that's better🥴❤️‍🔥

This project has been quite difficult and I have a lot of things that I'm not too proud about. I suck at backgrounds and I definitely am NOT GOOD at making a line of palm trees :') The characters aren't that well incorporated in the drawing, I would have liked to make more fun little things here and there (which I'll save for future drawings) and the colors, well, let's just say I can smell them now. I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore ;V; so sorry in advance </3. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE AND SUPPORT!!! Although this is a challenging project, I'm VERY happy to see myself improving little by little, and your encouragement helps me push through ANYTHING!! I'll do my best again in the next one!! 💕💕

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be included too!) @dukeoftheblackstar @justalittletomato @darthmaulshispanichousewife @botherbother-blog @aftergloom @badolmen @ihaventpickedausername @ohboi @stardustbee @nik-barinova @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @gen-has-green-vibes @ejfivercommander @herbalinz-of-yesteryear @eyecandyeoz @noesqape @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @staycalmandhugaclone @callmesunny04 @freesia-writes @ginnymilling @sunshinesdaydream @blueink-bluesoul @cloneloverrrrr @moon-wrecked @idontgetanysleep @tech-aficionado @followthepurrgil @renton6echo @queenjiru @shoe-bag

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Intertwined

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader - Soulmate Au!

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: Angst, arguments, Elijah being overly protective but denying himself happiness as always, canon typical violence, a bit of fluff at the end.

Author’s Note: Because I'm apparently on a sequel kick, here's another. I promise I'm getting to the requests that I have and all the things I still need to work on from last year. I'm going where the muse takes me in my writing flow. So there's that. Also please note that you need to read Hidden Marks before reading this one.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

Hidden Marks || TVDU Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

It had been months since Elijah had seen the three intertwined circles on the middle of Y/N’s back that made up her soul mark. The first and only time he'd seen it, he'd been pulling a wooden bullet out from her back when she asked for his help. From the moment Elijah helped to remove the bullet, the mark haunted him. 

Seeing her mark should have been a great thing. It should have brought him some peace and happiness to see her mark. That her mark matched the very one he had just below his left clavicle. A perfect pair that made sense for how close they had become as friends over the century. If anything, since seeing her mark he's been conflicted on his feelings. 

Part of him wants and tries to be protective of her. His soulmate that had come into his life when he least expected it. The woman that had become his best friend over the century had been the one thing he never actively searched for. He now knew why she stepped into his life and never left. But it was the other part of him that caused him to fight daily with his feelings. 

Y/N would be in danger because of him. She would soon become a target if even the slightest word had slipped about who his soulmate was. An endless cycle he'd force her into if an enemy ever came knocking. Threats and being captured for the sole purpose of being leveraged against him. 

Not to mention if his brother had ever lost his temper with him. Klaus wasn't one to spare the women in Elijah's life before. What difference would it make this time? All it would take was one action that made Klaus feel the slightest ounce of betrayal and he'd take it out on her. 

Elijah was willing to take on the devil himself if Y/N was in danger. He was reminded of it any time she recklessly put herself in harm's way. An argument he had with her plenty of times during their friendship, but held a deeper meaning as of recently. 

He was also reminded daily how easily she could bend him to her will with a simple smile as she walked into the room. Or the occasional knowing look she'd give him when he or his siblings said something she didn't agree with that would almost instantly change his mind about the situation. Especially if she added in her details that would make it reckless on her part. 

But no matter how many times that feeling of comfort and love started to grow for the woman he believed he could only care for platonically, he could never voice it. He could never bring himself to mention the details that he knew. And because he chose to keep it to himself, it began the yoyo effect of wanting to keep her at a distance and keep her close for his own sanity. 

It hadn’t gone unnoticed by Y/N either. From the moment she offered him a night out to deal with the humans who had put the bullets into her back, she noticed something different. She noticed the way his demeanor changed around her. He grew worrisome over the smallest of things he never had before. And even fought with her longer over details of plans to help take down the threat the Mikaelsons had been faced with. 

She found herself frustrated on the days that he brushed her off and all but ignored her. He had never once been cold to her in the time that she had known him. They had pushed each other’s buttons on occasion, but Elijah had never once pushed her away like he had been doing now. Every time he did, it hurt more than Y/N had ever expected it to. 

They were close friends, she knew that. She knew there would always be moments that Elijah would pick his family over her. That there would be moments where he would keep his family safe and do anything he could to also keep her safe. She knew she was not the highest priority. But why did it feel like someone had staked her when he walked away from her when she felt she really needed him for a few moments?

That's when the thoughts of doubt had been planted in her head. Doubts that were formed and fueled to drive her insane for most of the night that made it almost impossible to sleep. What had she done to earn such coldness from someone that she was close with? Had she crossed a boundary that she had suddenly been unaware of? 

The final straw that broke her had been moments ago when she offered to go with him to deal with the beginning of a threat. It was always something they had done together. A way to have Elijah’s calm and calculated approach and her glimmer of chaos that would always work out in their favor. But when he told her to stay behind, she could no longer keep anything at bay anymore. 

The moment Elijah had told her to stay behind, her face fell at his words. And as he walked past her to leave his expression hadn’t changed. And as she turned to face him, she let it all out. 

“What have I done?” She asked, causing him to stop in his tracks. “Have I wronged you in some way that makes you no longer want to be around me?”

Elijah heard the way her voice cracked towards the end. He had hoped that his actions wouldn’t hurt her. But here she was asking what she had done to him when in reality it had been him to do it. He turned to face her and shook his head slightly. 

“No.” His voice was composed in comparison to hers. “You have done nothing at all.”

She shook her head as she crossed her arms. “I’ve known you for over a century, Elijah. I know well enough to know you are lying to me. If I’ve done nothing wrong there wouldn’t be this shift between us where it feels like you suddenly want nothing to do with me.”

“I assure you that if I had wanted nothing to do with you, you would not still be standing here.” It was as close to the truth he could go to without coming out right with it. “We are facing a potential threat that I feel as though I need to do this with my siblings. We have no idea what they are fully capable of and the last time I checked, you are not as indestructible as you believe.”

Elijah had no idea how this threat would continue to play in their lives. He had no idea what knowledge they planned to use against them in an attempt to try and take him and his family out. That was why Elijah wanted to do this without her. He wanted to make sure that she would remain safe. 

He didn’t want to take Y/N with him with the possibility of allowing them to get an inkling that Y/N had now meant more to him than he let on. He didn’t want her in danger from something he didn’t fully understand. This was the part of him that was willing to do anything to protect her. He just had to slightly push her away in order to do so. 

“That never stopped you before.” She noted as she took a step towards him. “I may not be an original, but I am still a whole lot older than a majority of the threats that walk into the city. I have proven myself over and over that I can handle my own. I’m even better by your side. But ever since you’ve seen my mark, it’s like you don’t want to be near me. All I want is the truth from you. Did I do something or did my mark tell you something that you haven’t told me?”

Elijah looked at the ground for a moment before looking back up to her. He could see the hurt in her eyes as she expressed everything. But he couldn’t bring himself to tell her even though every part of him wanted to. To bring some peace to her mind on his reasoning instead of making her feel as though she wasn’t wanted. 

“I’m going to try to make this as clear as I can." His voice was still even, almost void of any emotion. "This threat is not to be taken lightly. While we do not have the full specifics on who they are or why they are here, I do know they have come close to harming the people I care about." His eyes met hers. "While our normal plan pairs perfectly with the riff raff we deal with, at this moment it does not. So no, you will not accompany me tonight. I need you here." 

After taking in his words, all she could manage was a nod before he was gone from her sight. He didn’t even give her a chance to respond or fight him on what he was telling her. And it left Y/N feeling defeated. 

Her mind still tried to make sense of the changes that had come over the last few months. Every push and pull that happened between the two being analyzed as if it had been some rather important document or experiment being worked on. She was trying to find something, anything, to show what caused Elijah’s sudden change. No matter how many ways she thought about it, it only came back to one starting point: the night Elijah saw her mark. 

Had seeing it really thrown him off to not want to be near her like he had used to? Not showing them their marks had been a preference they decided on early in their friendships. If there was ever a day they felt comfortable in showing what it was, they would have. And that night, with a bullet in her back, it hadn’t mattered if Elijah had seen it or not. 

She ran a hand along her face, trying to shake off the thoughts that had kept her pacing her room for hours after he had left. She no longer cared about the mark or who she may have possibly shared it with. Why did that change now that Elijah had seen it?

It made her wonder if he had seen the mark on someone else. If there was a possibility that he felt guilty in some way after seeing it. There had been plenty of enemies in his existence. At some point he could have easily come across it and not realized it until he saw it on her back.

Did it belong to someone who had betrayed him? Had he seen it on someone that he had taken their life out of necessity? Or had this person been a victim of the many spells he had endured? 

Deep down she knew it was the fear of losing Elijah. Something she had thought about over the century and a half she had known him. Friendships can only last so long before one reason or another comes along. She knew plenty of people who had left her on the back burner after finding their soulmate, even during her human years. 

She had grown used to having Elijah in her life. It would take her longer to find a memory that didn’t involve Elijah versus the ones with. Over the years she had become dependent on the fact that Elijah had always been there for her just as she was for him. He was a constant and part of her hated the thought of her ever losing that. 

At the thought, Y/N had felt her heart sink. A simple thought putting everything into perspective to her. The idea may have been formed from past experiences, but it all made sense. Elijah must have found his soulmate. And if that was the case, she was sure this was the beginning of being put further back on the burner.  

“Y/N?!” Rebekah’s panicked voice had broken her from her thoughts, causing her to move quickly to find Rebekah. 

Upon reaching the courtyard, a gasp left her lips as she found Rebekah dragging a half standing Elijah towards the couch. The majority of his clothing had been covered in blood. Parts of the fabric had been torn in several places. It was as if Elijah had picked a battle he couldn’t win. 

“What the hell happened?” Y/N asked as she moved to help get Elijah settled on the couch. Her eyes had still been taking him in, accessing his injuries. 

“Witches.” Elijah breathed out as he tried to get a hold of reality. He had lost enough blood and his mind had been a distorted mess from the magic he had been subjected to. 

“Everything had been going according to plan but whatever spell they used on him, it threw him off course.” Rebekah took the moment to leave the room to get items they needed to help Elijah for the time being until Freya could get back there. The moment she was back she continued. “The others are still there dealing with them.” 

Seeing the items Rebekah had brought, Y/N reached for the towel that had been sitting in a bowl of water and began cleaning off the blood from Elijah’s face and neck. “I can understand the disorientation, but what the hell ripped into him?” 

There was panic rising within Y/N. She hated that he had made her stay behind. She could have been there to help him in some way. Been there to help prevent him from being hurt as he was now. 

"Between the spell and some of the wolves within the vicinity, he couldn't watch his back." Rebekah said as she picked up another towel and folded it before placing it on Elijah's forehead. Afterwards she began picking up little containers of what Y/N could only assume were herbs and salves that Freya had instructed her to use for the time being. 

As Y/N ran the towel over his neck, Elijah lifted his hand to her hand, stilling her movements. It caused her to look up at him. His eyes had been looking over her face, before they settled on her eyes.

"You're safe." His voice was barely above a whisper. 

She nodded her head. "I am safe. You made sure I was." She wasn't sure if that was what he needed to relax more as she attempted to help clean him. "Freya will be here soon." 

With that, Elijah seemed to relax his hold and it allowed for her to continue wiping up the blood. So far it looked as though any of the injuries he sustained were healing. It may have been at a whole lot of a slower pace, but his wounds were healing. But the moment her hand moved to remove the shredded fabric stuck to his skin along his left shoulder and chest, his hand grabbed a hold of her wrist, not wanting her to continue. 

"I need to make sure your wounds are healing Elijah." She said softly as she brought her eyes up to his once more. "Or to at least give me the peace of mind that this looks way worse than it is." 

"For once let someone take care of you." Rebekah added and pulled his hand away from Y/N. It had been too easy to remove his hand. His strength is almost non-existent given what he'd been through. 

Elijah hated that he couldn't get his mind to process the protest he wanted to give. He hated that he couldn't give a strong enough response to say he'd deal with it later. But the spell within his mind made it difficult to think clearly for more than a second or two at a time. 

Elijah’s eyes never left Y/N’s face as she began to move the fabric away from his chest. He didn't care about the wounds he was facing. He didn't even care that Y/N and Rebekah were caring for him. It was what laid just under the layers of fabric she was removing, that had him worried. 

Quickly dipping the towel into the bowl of water between her and Rebekah, Y/N brought it back up to his chest and began to rid him of the drying blood. There was a part of her that was relieved to not see some gaping wound that he was trying to prevent her from seeing. 

That relief soon turned into curiosity as the blood was being wiped away. The beginning of Elijah's mark became clear as day. With each wipe of the towel the mark continued to grow. And as last of the reminisce of blood was removed from the mark, she all but dropped the towel. 

Just below his left clavicle had been three intertwined circles. It ran horizontally across his skin in the exact same way it ran across the middle of her back. And for a moment she fought herself on reaching out just to run her fingers along the mark. A need to make sure it was really there. 

Elijah had watched her the whole time. Even through his hazed mind he could see the way relief had flooded her eyes before her brows began to furrow. The curiosity in her eyes had been evident and there was nothing Elijah could do to fully protest in his current state. All he could do was watch her as she learned what he had months ago. 

Her soulmate had been right there in front of her for over a century.  

Her eyes snapped to him and Elijah could see several emotions flash through her eyes. He could see the way there was a sliver of excitement before hurt filled them as she tried to stop the tears from welling up. 

"What is it?" Rebekah asked as she caught on that Y/N had stopped her movements. 

Y/N shook her head slightly before looking away from Elijah. "Nothing worth noting." She said as she went back to wiping the blood. 

She kept her eyes away from the mark and as best as she could from keeping them from looking up at Elijah. She could feel his eyes on her. But she refused to look his way. 

All of her wild thoughts that had been going through her head earlier had only been partially right. She honestly never thought this was the case. And if she was being honest with herself, this felt worse. 

He had found his soulmate like she thought.  But she hadn't expected it to be herself. Not with the way he had pulled himself away from her during the course of the last few months. Not with the way she felt that she was losing her best friend. 

Elijah knew that he was her soulmate and he didn't tell her. There wasn't an excitement at knowing that the person they spent decades with had been the one person they both chose not to actively look for. Their life had been great just as it was. Until Elijah saw her mark. 

She tried to stop the spiral of thoughts that began to form. It was already too late to try to spare her heart the pain it was currently feeling. No matter how hard she tried to focus on helping Rebekah take care of him, one single thought played in her mind on a constant loop. 

He knew they were soulmates and he tried pushing her away. 

The moment Freya came running into the courtyard with Klaus and Kol behind her, Y/N pulled herself slowly away from the side of the couch. It was a way to not only keep the now unwanted attention of her facial expressions away but to give the necessary space Freya would need. 

When she moved a little too far for Elijah’s liking, his hand grabbed a hold of hers. This time his grip was tighter in comparison to earlier. He was getting better, stronger. The venom from the wolf bites was leaving his system while the spell kept a tight hold over him.

Y/N's eyes met his one more time. She could tell he was pleading with her to stay there with his eyes. Almost to say that once Freya helped him he'd explain everything to her. That he needed her to stay there.

There was something in her eyes that changed a moment after his words had pierced the air. “Would you tell me if you saw the mark on someone else?” 

“Of course.” He said even though it had been a lie. He knew he wasn’t going to speak of the very mark that was on his chest. 

Her heart ached at the sudden memory that filled her mind. She wanted to break down. She wanted to run to get fresh air. Do anything that would allow her to process the information she had been given in the last few minutes. 

Freya came over and knelt down beside Elijah, giving Y/N the chance to pull her hand away from Elijah. She took several back as she tried to decide if she wanted to stay or leave the area. But a heartbeat later she was mumbling some excuse and left the courtyard. 

It was only when she was safely behind the door of her room, she felt more clarity than she had downstairs. The wave of emotions she felt calmed in comparison.  While silent tears had begun falling, it hadn't felt like her world had come crashing to a halt as it had. 

"For as many times as I've come here to hide away, there's never been another person here." Y/N said as she took in the stranger. "Might have to find a new one if this one is compromised." 

"I can assure you, I've known about this place for a lot longer than you." The stranger looked towards her. "I may have been out of the city for some time, but I will know more about the history than you ever will.”

A laugh passed her lips causing a smile to form on his lips. “What if I told you I watched that town in the distance be built?”

His eyebrow raised slightly before he looked towards the town she had been speaking of. “I’d then ask if you knew what was out there before the town was built.”

“A small village.“ She responded.  “One that was destroyed just a few years after I was born. There are stories of a creature that roamed the woods that surrounded that village. A creature that was hunted but never killed.” She shrugged her shoulders before looking back towards the stranger. “Though I’d love to hear what you have that can top that.”

He laughed for a moment before he placed his hand out between them. “I’m Elijah. And I assure you, I can surpass any story you’ve been told about the area.”

“That’s a challenge I’m willing to take.” She said as she placed her hand in his. “I'm Y/N.”

That year Y/N needed to get away from the life she had found herself in after being a vampire for a few centuries already. The mountaintop just above the town she was born in had always been her go to place to reevaluate her life as a human and as a vampire. That night, Y/N had been debating on watching the sunrise for the last time. 

But Elijah had been there to pull her thoughts away from the sunrise and into a life that she had now thrived in. Elijah had been there when she needed him the most. Her soulmate had been the one to pull her back from the edge and she never knew it until now.

Elijah had saved her that night. He saved her and it wasn't long after he paid off a witch to create a daylight ring for her. A friendship shouldn't be had just in the dark. Those had been his words as he held up the daylight ring for her to take a few minutes before sunrise a few weeks later.

Her heart picked up in pace as her mind continued to accept everything that happened. The details of their meeting to this current moment made sense from a soulmate perspective. No matter how many times the flashes of memories played through her mind, there was no changing the facts. 

"What if I don't want to marry my soulmate?" A young Y/N asked as she kicked her shoe at the dirt. 

Her mother's laugh filled the air. "You don't always have to marry your soulmate. Sometimes it depends on what best suits the both of you. Your soulmate can be a best friend or even a lover. Sometimes they're both." She knelt down to Y/N's height. "There's one thing I know though. Having them in your life in any form is a whole lot better than not having them in your life or losing them. So when you are able to meet the person that knows your soul without needing to try hard, fight as hard as you can. Fight with them, for them and alongside them as needed." She ran her hand along Y/N’s cheek. "I know this doesn't make a lot of sense right now, but I promise one day you'll understand. "

The sound of the knock on her door followed by the door slowly opening had pulled her out of her thoughts and memories. Without even looking she had already known it was Elijah. She quickly wiped at her cheeks before she turned towards the door. 

The moment she had, Elijah could see that the whirlwind of emotions he saw earlier in her eyes had shifted. Even as her eyes welled up, he could see the hurt along with acceptance. And if he was being honest with himself, the acceptance is what scared him. 

He took a few steps further into her room before he came to a stop. "What I've done was-" 

"Cowardice?" She finished for him before he got the chance to even form the next word. It made him raise his brow. "Because whatever reasoning you have for not telling me was the worst decision you have ever made. And I know there have been plenty of questionable decisions you've made." 

"I know I should have told you that night." He gave a slight nod. "For a brief moment I wanted to. But then I realized the danger you would be in because of me." 

She had already begun shaking her head before he finished speaking. "Danger that I haven't already been in from just being close with you. Or to your siblings for that matter." She watched as he opened his mouth to speak but she quickly continued to stop him. "I know it's not the same. Putting it out there makes it more real and practically puts a target on both of us. I know what that target looks like. That just means we'll be better prepared for it." 

She knew from experience how easy it was to use a soulmate as leverage. How easy it was to threaten them to get someone to bend to their will. There was a dark decade in Y/N's existence where she had once toyed with humans and their soulmates. A time where her humanity had been switched and she hadn't cared. 

She knew the tricks that could be played. She knew how much damage someone could take before they snapped. The emotional torment that could be played on both parties to get the point across was something she lived for during that dark decade. 

At least that was until her humanity had been forcefully switched on. She tormented herself afterwards on how she could carelessly manipulate people by using the one weakness they all had. It was part of the reason she found herself heading back to the mountaintop. 

"If today has taught me anything it's that you were safer without me near." He watched as her eyebrow raised before he continued. "While having you by my side would have been beneficial for many reasons, I watched as my worst fear played through my mind because of a spell. A spell that provided sufficient reasons on why I was right on my decision to not say anything." 

"A spell that was used to distract you.” She noted. It explained why he had seemed so relieved at seeing her safe. "And a fear that we could have worked out beforehand if you simply had told me. I spent the last several hours wondering how and when I had become the problem. Part of me knew that you had found your soulmate and that was why you were pushing me away. That maybe you were trying to distance yourself from me to make room for them." Her eyes began to well up. "I just never thought you'd be pushing me away because I am your soulmate."

Elijah shook his head slightly as guilt filled him. He could see in that moment how hurt she had been by it. The emotions she had displayed when he first came into the room broke down bit by bit. And the thought that she believed she was the problem stung him in ways he never believed it would. 

"I don't know if I can be what you need me to be." He said a moment later. "It has been proven time and again that whenever I let an ounce of happiness into my life, it's quickly taken away. I refuse to have the same thing happen to you. And if that means keeping you at a distance or even you leaving the city-" 

"Nothing has to change!" She cut him off as she shook her head. "We have been by each other's side for over a century without even knowing we were soulmates. We have been through hell and back together without even questioning how it was possible. I have fought by your side not caring if I died in the process." She wiped at her cheeks as more tears escaped. "I will continuously be by your side even after this. I don't care if it is as something more or keeping things as it has been. But don't you dare for one moment think that I would be safer with you pushing me away or even deciding that it's better without you in my life." 

He sighed softly before taking a few steps to close the distance between them. "If anything were to ever happen to you because of me, I'd never be able to forgive myself." His hand came up to her cheek before using his thumb to wipe away more of her tears. 

"It's going to happen with or without you in my life." Her eyes met his. "I am no stranger to being threatened by your family. I have had Klaus's hand on my heart and I'm still here in front of you." She placed her hand on top of his as she leaned into his touch slightly.  A way to prove that she was there. "I am not even a stranger to having a witch use me as leverage or even used to fight against you. I can leave tonight and what's to stop anyone from coming after me once it's actually figured out?" She watched as he took in her words. "This isn't just one sided either. I am afraid of what each new threat could mean for you. I want and need you to be safe, maybe even for my own selfish reasons. But I will not let you push me away without at least fighting to stay. I will continue to be by your side no matter how much you push. I will stand there by your side and face the enemy with you and die there with you if it comes to it. I will continue to be your friend or more if that is what you need and you'll never have to worry that I'll leave you. But I will not let you try and push me out of your life for the fear of what could possibly happen to me just because you're afraid to let yourself be happy."

Elijah's eyes never left hers as she spoke. He couldn't bring himself to look away from her. Not when he was seeing everything play through her eyes. Every emotion, every piece of history and hopeful future had been displayed within them. And he could no longer ignore what he'd been trying to avoid. 

He knew everything she said was right. He would hate himself if anything happened to her while she was gone. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel if he ever learned the news that something had happened to her. He couldn't ignore the fact that throughout the years and even now she was fighting for her place to stay no matter how hard he tried to keep her at bay and safe in his eyes. 

The same safety that he had been trying to provide her since the night they met. How broken her eyes had looked from the moment she took a seat next to him on that mountain top. And how everything within him had told him to protect her from anything. Even himself if it ever came to it. 

But as he looked into her eyes now, he could see the woman that had become his best friend.  The woman that stood there beside him as threat after threat came. How she cared for him in his moments of need even though he fought her on it. The one person he couldn’t go more than a few days without speaking with. It was why the thought of losing her scared him even more than he ever believed. 

After a moment, Elijah nodded his head. “I give you my word that I will not push you away or ask you to leave.” His thumb gently moved along her cheek. He watched as something changed within her eyes. “I don't believe I could actually watch you leave, let alone be alone out there in the world. Nor can I picture a day where you are not in my life in some form or another. You have your selfish reasons and I have mine. But I have never wished for you to look so hurt as you have today and I will spend as much time as needed to make up for it. ” He looked elsewhere for a moment before looking back at her. “I just don’t know how things will change from here.”

The part of Y/N’s heart that expected the worst had felt relief. Relief that he wasn’t going to continue to push her away. Relief that he was willing to accept that they were soulmates and that she wasn’t going to go down or leave without a fight. And if anything, there was a small tug of a smile at her lips at his words. 

“We continue as friends, just as we have.” She offered. “If in the future things change, we’ll go from there.”

A hum of agreement passed his lips as he pulled his hand away from her. As he did, He maneuvered his hand to take a hold of her’s, finding comfort in just holding her hand within his. Her offer of nothing needing to change played in his ears.

There was something within him that agreed with that. Mixed within the agreement was the hope that things would change for the better. But for now this was a step in the right direction. A step that meant he wasn’t going to push her away as he had planned to. It was in a direction that he strongly believed he’d never lose her in the way that he feared.

“We’ll handle things as we always have.” He nodded his head, a small smile pulling at his lips. 

“Together?” She asked as a small hopeful smile pulled at her lips. 

She could joke about how they would work together as she always had in the past. She could have added in how reckless they could be. How the calm and chaosbetween them would keep things interesting. But at that moment, she only needed the confirmation that it would continually be them against everything else that came at them.

“Together.” He promised with no intention of ever breaking that promise. Even when the world learned of the mark they share, he’d keep his promise and keep each other close to their sides. As a friend, as a potential lover, but most importantly as soulmates that would never have to live without the other. 

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[muzansfangs]

Game over.

Starring: Satoru Gojo x f!reader x Ryomen Sukuna;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, alternative universe– University AU, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (Satoru!receiving), hair pulling, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, kind of power imbalance, rough sex, slut shaming, praise kink, creampie, use of pet names, language, dirty talk, impact play, size kink;

Plot: A basketball match. Satoru and Sukuna, two rivals ready to risk it all for winning the annual Cup. Becoming the head cheerleader comes with some peculiar duties and thus you found yourself pleasing Satoru right before the match. When he left you unsatisfied, Sukuna suggested to help you out in exchange of a ‘little favour’, in case he won the competition. You agreed, sealing a deal with the devil that earned you nothing but an extrosensorial experience, when you end up becoming the real object of the team leaders’s desires.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Your eyes were staring deeply into his piercing blue ones, his hand holding your ponytail so tightly your scalp felt numb, as he thrusted his hips forward relentlessly. Your make up was a mess at this point. Drool was dribbling down your chin, the tears brimming in your eyes were making your vision blurry and your throat contracted almost convulsively to adjust to the intrusion of his cock.

"Fuck— Are you sure you're a cheerleader? Taking my cock like that, you seem more like porn actress, you know?" Satoru hoarsely breathed out, gritting his teeth afterwards as he felt the tip of your nose pressing onto his navel. It was too much. Your jaw stung at that point, your mind blank, while you squeezed your eyes shut to focus on breathing through your nose.

Satoru grunted up above, his thrusts sloppy, by the time someone knocked on the door with urgency. The match was about to start and the squad needed their Captain to define the last details of their strategy.

Satoru Gojo, a myth, a legend around the Campus, was the Leader of one of the two basketball teams annually contending for the University Cup. The Blue Sorcerers had been winning for three consecutive years under the lead of Satoru. He did not feel any pressure for the upcoming match, choosing to fuck your mouth instead. It was a ritual, or so you had been told by the outgoing head cheerleader: before the match, whoever inherited that position had to please Satoru Gojo in the changing room.

You were kind of baffled by the unconventional duty weighing on you, but it was not like you were against it. After all, it was Satoru Gojo you were talking about. You had been daydreaming about him for a while now. Watching him training every single day under the scorching sunlight was not enough anymore. If you could get the chance to be bent over by him without patiently waiting for him to pick you among the crowd of his fangirls, well, screw your morals, you were totally in.

It had been quite simple to settle things up. Apparently, he already knew you had been chosen to be the next head cheerleader. Therefore, when you had subtly sneaked into the designated place for the filthy deed to be done, he was not surprised to see you. He had encouraged you to drop to your knees right away, claiming you did not have much time and now you still felt your cheeks boiling at the shameless way you had obediently fallen at his feet. Pathetic, was it not?

"I'm coming" Satoru sassed, his answer sufficing both for you as a warning and for the player calling out his Captain from the other side of the door.

A soft groan erupting from his throat was all your brain registered, when a warm, thick liquid flooded down your sore throat and he abruptly pulled out of your mouth with a pop. You almost gagged, the pads of your fingers wiping away the tears from your face as you swallowed whole, the salty taste of his seed making your tastebuds explode. You were a mess. The sky blue ribbon in your hair was undone, your panties were soaked, your clit throbbed in need and you had to go back to the girls in twenty minutes.

As you heavily tried to steady your breath, palms planted onto the floor, you looked up at him in a daze. How were you supposed to compose yourself and root for his team, when your pussy spasmodically clenched around nothing? You were surely going to be replaced as the head cheerleader, after the imminent failure awaiting for you in the gym.

“I ain’t got time for cuddles or whatever you want. I have a match to win, darling. — he promptly said, winking at you before grasping a towel and handing it to you in a hurry — I will get out first. See you later, alright? I might need to ask you for a second round or something” he fretted, before fixing his clothes and jogging towards the exit.

The sound of the door closing behind him made you flinch, as you sighed and stood from the kneeling position you were in. He had literally used you like a fuck toy and did not even worry about you reaching your climax. Well, Satoru Gojo was a selfish brat. The hot stud only chased his own relief, apparently. Tossing the towel away in frustration, you turned towards the mirror and hastily tried to give a sense to your hair and make up.

You could clearly hear the screams and the burst of applause to incite the teams to make their appearence, eachoing through the corridors. You definitely needed to get a grip and join your friends.

“Damn it” you hissed, dashing towards the door and opening it, only to bump your head against what felt like a wall, but actually was a broad chest.

You winced softly, hand massaging your forehead as you flicked your gaze up. The red hues scrutinizing your face were unmistakable, just like the red t-shirt he was wearing. The pink hair, the tattoos adorning his face and biceps, the smug grin he flashed at you.

Ryomen Sukuna.

“Watch out, doll” he croaked out, staring you down as he folded his arms against his chest, his imposing height making you feel like a hapless ant about to be squashed by a boot on the concrete.

“Yeah, sorry, I really have to go now” you replied, faking a polite smile as you whipped your head to the opposite direction and started to walk away from him. You did not want any trouble, especially with him, the new leader of The Raging Curses.

However, he was clearly not done with you. His hand suddenly wrapped around your wrist made you gasp. Eyes widening in panic, you twirled around to face him again. No good came from him, ever. Especially when he showed off that shit-eating grin you loathed oh so much. You had barely interacted since he had arrived at your Campus. You shared some classes with him and he always was that guy disturbing the professors.

“Was it Satoru the guy who ran out of the changing room less than five minutes ago?” Sukuna quizzically asked you, arching a dark eyebrow up as you felt your stomach churn in apprehension.

“No” you blurted out way too quickly for your own likings.

“Don’t fucking lie. I was waiting for him to check if the rumors were true. I have seen him fumbling with his sweatpants on his way out” he sternly said, his grip around your wrist tightening even so slightly as he tugged you towards him.

Stumbling on your feet, you glared up at him “Why does it concern you?” you asked him coldly, your heart drumming in your chest. Your breath was uneven and you truly feared you were going to collapse for the pressure. Well, Satoru not only had denied you an orgasm but he had also left you to deal with that brute everyone hated and tried to avoid all across the Campus.

“Actually, I am glad he had his dick sucked before the match. It’s well-known that sex before a competition is detrimental to the performance” he stated confidently, abruptly letting go of you, albeit he was standing still way too close for you to feel comfortable. You could smell his strong cologne and you recognized it to be Sauvage, much to your dismay.

That guy exuded masculinity and your hormones were making it hard for you to think straight.

Your upper lip twitched at his vulgar comment, though, and you fought back the instinct to slap him out of irritation. You were still tense, your hands trembling as you scoffed and tried to walk away once again “Okay, fine, good for you then. Bye” you dismissed him, forcing your legs to take heavy steps towards the stairs leading you to the gym.

Once again, though, his voice stopped you and this time you froze solid. Cold sweat collecting on the back of your neck, you faltered as you clenched your fists down your sides and hesitantly glanced at him from above your shoulder “What did you say?” you feebly inquired, hoping you had somehow misheard his question.

The pink-haired guy smirked and cocked his head to the side “He hasn’t even stuck a finger into your cunt, right?” he repeated himself, not a single ounce of remorse in his voice, the choice of words had been specifically oriented to achieve a certain kind of reaction from you.

You gaped, unable to move from where you were standing along with firing something back at him for several seconds. You had no time for that and, honestly, you were not in the mood to talk about your debatable sex life with a natural born bastard like him.

“Can you stop pesting me? Fuck off” you uttered, only for him to chuckle and ambling towards you with his typical jaunty step.

He was demonically perfect. You had to admit it to yourself, even though he was a despicable guy. A red flag, obviously, collecting hearts in his imaginary black-pitch jar.

“Come on, doll, I was kidding! — he started, winking at you before checking the area as if he was trying to detect any presence besides the two of you in that desert corridor — What if I want to help you out? It might be difficult for you to swing your legs in the air, landing in splits, or doing whatever shitty moves your choreography requires, if your clit throbs like that…” he seraphically said, the angles of his lips lifting upwards as his ruby eyes travelled up and down your frame.

Small. You felt so small and vulnerable under his attentive gaze. That wolfish grin never ceased to make your legs quiver in both dread and arousal. He was blatantly messing with your head, with your feelings and your body was screaming for that release.

“You are sick” you stated, trying to resist the temptation to give in.

“Isn’t what Satoru and you have done in there sick as well? Always jabbing your fingers at me, when he is just as devious as I am. — Sukuna chided you in a mocking tone, leaning his shoulder against the wall — I am serious, pretty thing. Would you like me to help you out?” he whispered, causing you to press your thighs together to relieve the pulsing need between your legs.

You hated him. You hated this. You hated Satoru for having put you in such a compromising position.

“We don’t even have the time for that” you hissed through gritted teeth, while the cheering crowd above you seemed to get impatient with every passing second. You were stuck in a whole other dimension, questioning your conscience and cursing yourself for having accepted to prostrate yourself at Satoru’s feet. Along with even considering the possibility of allowing him, the infamous Ryomen Sukuna, to please you in the middle of a corridor.

Your stream of consciousness, however, was soon interrupted by the player’s clarification.

“Oh, doll, I need less than two minutes to make you cream on my fingers” he remarked, causing your knees to buckle under his magnetic gaze.

The mere idea of getting rid of such a frustrating problem was surely giving you the incentive to agree and let him have his way with you, but you knew that if you gave him your consent to help you out, you would have also been expected to repay him in some wicked way. Was it worth it, though? And, above all, what could he ever asked of you to make you reluctant to keep your word?

“What’s the price?” you asked him through gritted teeth, mouth dry as he reached his hand out to grasp your hand and push you against the wall.

Caged between his massive body and the cool surface at your back, you knew your morals were completely gone at this point. Already bent by Satoru, they had been now disrupted by his rival. The moment his fingers crept up your thigh, smoothly slithering up to push the dampened fabric of your panties to the side, you lolled your head back against the wall and hooked your leg around his hip, granting him the access to your aching core.

“If Satoru loses the match, I want to fuck you” he declared, making your cheeks heat up at the mere thought of it happening.

You nodded your head, eager to feel his touch, to let his fingers explore your warm cavern and push you quickly over the edge. You were not worried about the deal, as you felt the pads of his fingers draw irregular figure eights on your bundle of nerves. You were sure Satoru was going to win. He always won. Soft moans falling from your lips, Sukuna grinned and soaked in the sight of you arching your back as his index and forefinger plunged deeply into your core.

“You think he’s going to win, don’t you?” he taunted you, thrusting his fingers into your soppy cunt.

Your eyes were half-lidded, thighs quivering as you choked out a brief answer “He has to win”.

Sukuna chuckled, speeding up his movements to reach that spongy spot within your walls that always drove girls nuts. Watery vision, you whimpered, not caring anymore if anyone passing by could hear you or see you like that. Your breath was erratic, his fingers curling into you made your mind go fuzzy as your hands clutched his t-shirt in your fists for dear life.

In a matter of seconds, your inner walls tightened around his fingers and you let out a strained moan of pleasure as the knot in your lower abdomen snapped. Your essence coated his fingers, your body finally relaxing as Sukuna smirked and slipped his fingers out of you. You were panting, flattening your back against the wall in the aftermath of a mind-blowing orgasm.

You watched him wrap his lips around his fingers, sucking them clean right before your longing eyes as he then hummed and took a step back from you “Now I am definitely fucking hoping Satoru will lose” he commented, before gesturing for you to see him later.

Fixing your panties underneath your skirt, you let the recent events wash over you, knowing damn wall that this little stunt had left you yearning for more. And when you ran up to your girls, white and blue pompons in hands, ready to cheer for The Blue Sorcerers, you realized that maybe Satoru deserved to lose, that your brain kept screaming in pain for wanting Sukuna, that letting his rival take you, the girl he thought was only destined to him for the season, was the right punishment for having been a presumptuous bastard.

Just like that, you led your team to the middle of the gym. All eyes on you, you began to dance for supporting Satoru’s team as if nothing had happened. But every single time you locked eyes with him, he saw defiance in your eyes. Swaying your hips, cheering the players up, you felt your heart thrumming in your chest in anticipation. Standing on the front line, you made sure to give it your best shot, while feeling Sukuna’s eyes trailing up and down your body in hunger. Maybe he was not just going to play for the glory, but for asserting his dominance on you, something Satoru claimed to be his and his alone.

When the two men shook hands, they coldly wished each other a silent ‘good luck’. The coin flipped by the umpire decided who was going to have the ball first and you closed your eyes, inhaling sharply as you heard Sukuna sneering. Only two words left his lips.

“Game on”.

Every time he scored a point, Sukuna made sure to look at you. Pride in his fiery eyes as Satoru cussed in distress, bickering with his fellow mates to focus and try to catch up with the opponents. Yet, when you saw a plethora of red and black flags waving and fluttering all around you, a shaky breath left your lips. Reality tasted bittersweet on your tongue as you lost yourself among the overjoyed crowd of cheering people.

Satoru Gojo had lost.

He was visibly baffled, shocked even, as he angrily tossed away a towel his friend Suguru had handed to him. His jaw was clenched as he kicked the door on his way out, people around you celebrating the victors as Sukuna’s eyes searched for yours among the crowd. A promise was a promise and your legs started to move almost under the influence of his demanding glare.

The dull sound of your back hitting a locker, knocking the air out of your lungs temporary, was just the beginning of the lewd act taking place after the match. As soon as he had gotten you alone, Sukuna had literally grasped your jaw and his tongue had invaved your mouth right away. The passionate kiss was meant to be a distraction from his hands roughly hiking your skirt up to tug your panties down your thighs.

The way he had picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, as he slammed your back against the locker had left you breathless. He was hungry but so were you at this point. Your hands gripped his shirt, prompting him to take it off to expose his chiseled abs to your lustful stare. Not much was said as he lowered his pants down enough to free his bulge from the restraints of his boxers and, while your tongue began to trace the patterns of his tattoos, he ran the head of his cock down your folds to collect your juices.

“What the fuck, you’re still soaked… You wanted this so badly, I could see the way you internally squealed out in joy when I scored. Maybe you should become my cheerleader, not his” Sukuna rasped out, pushing just the tip into your opening to test your reaction.

You whined, mouth hanging open as you tried to push yourself even closer to him to get another inch into you. You craved him, you needed him more than anything else right now.

“Fuck… You’re so needy. Here, scream my name, let them hear you” Sukuna rasped out, before snapping his hips forwards and sheathing himself completely into you. A strained moan erupted from your throat, as your walls clamped down onto him so deliciously, as you buried your head on the crook of his neck.

He groaned at your tightness, his hands squeezing your ass roughly, not caring for possibly leaving bruises on your skin as he began to set out a punishing pace. His thrusts truly left you breathless, his girth stretching you out so perfectly every time he pulled slightly out before thrusting in again. You were loud, too loud and someone clearly heard you, but you did not care enough about your reputation at the moment.

“Who are you?” Sukuna suddenly blurted out, his pace brutal as you whimpered out in pleasure and a sting of pain.

“W–What?” you meekly babbled out.

“Who are you, doll?” he repeated, hinting at something specific that only as he reached your cervix you realized.

“Satoru’s cheerleder”.

“And who is fucking you?”.

“S-Sukuna! Ryomen Sukuna!” you breathlessly said, right before the door banged opened and you both snapped your head towards the unexpected guess.

Your stomach dropped when a pair of sky blue eyes met yours, while you heard a dark laughter rumble from deep into Sukuna’s chest. Of course he was amused by that. Satoru closed the door with a foot, his eyes never leaving the scene playing before his eyes as he approached you. You did not know what to say, merely whimpering as Sukuna had only opted for slowing down his thrusts, not stopping them at all.

“I need her. Get your fucking hands off of her” Satoru flatly stated, earning a scornful glance from the pink-haired man.

“Ah, no, mate. There’s no way in hell I’mma stop now. If you haven’t noticed it yet, I’m balls deep into her. Waut for your turn” Sukuna grumbled, resuming his fast pace as you squirmed in total shock and on the verge of cumming all over his dick.

It almost felt surreal the way they talked about you, about using use as if you were not even there, as if you were a mere trophy to use to let them steam off the stress. Your vision was blurry as you clung to Sukuna, mewling at the way he held you still.

“S–Satoru, I–” you tried to retaliate, but it only made things worse as he gripped his hand and grasped a fistfull of your hair, earning a pained wince from you. His face was so close to yours you could feel his breath on your lips as he spoke.

“Shut your mouth, you slut. You could not wait until the end of the match to be stuffed full, could you? Fine, open that stupid, disgusting mouth of yours and make me cum” he hissed through gritted teeth, as Sukuna only pulled out of you to let you drop on your knees in front of his rival.

Was he willing to share? Were you going to be taken by them contemporary?

Your mouth watered and you had no idea of why your pussy clenched like that at the mere thought of pleasuring them both at the same time. Right, pleasuring them because you knew that once you became a piece of meat between them, your pleasure would have most likely became secondary. Did you want that, though? Yes. Was this something that could happen once again? No.

With your pleading out flicking up to lock with Satoru’s ones, you chewed on your lower lip thoughtfully, pondering what to do, before eventually nodding your head and watching as he tugged his pants down and knelt in front of you. Your mouth was right in front of the pinkish tip of his cock as he gave it a few languid strokes, before tapping with on your lips to part them opened.

“Man, you’re so pissed you might pop a vessel” Sukuna taunted Satoru before leaning his cock towards your core and sliding back into you with groan. His large hands gripped your hips possessively, as your moaned out around Satoru’s cock.

Drool ran down your chin as you swung your arms towards Satoru’s thighs for balance.

“Shut up. — Satoru deadpanned, pushing his cock into your mouth too quickly, causing you to almost gag around him — And you better be careful not to use your teeth, little slut” he then chimed, staring down around you sucking eagerly on his lenght.

The tempo they chose was mind-blowing. The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room like a pornographic soundtrack, as both Satoru and Sukuna’s grunts made goosebumps raise on your skin. Full of them, shared like an antelope between two vicious lions, you felt yourself driven towards your orgasm.

“Good girl… Coming on my cock already? Yeah, that’s it, give it all to me” Sukuna rasped out, landing a spank on your jiggling ass.

Satoru hummed and twitched into your mouth, sinking his foreteeth onto his bottom lip not to groan too loudly. But it was all too much to prolong it further, when Sukuna buried himself into you until the base, his heavy balls slapping your clit one last time, you came too and you shivered at the feeling of your juices mixing into you.

Satoru sighed, deciding not to let you feel as satisfied as you maybe wished. Right before he exploded down your throat, he pulled out of your mouth and let his cum drip down your face, down the length of your nose, letting it slide down your cheeks because he knew you were fine with it as well, because after all, you were a good head cheerleader.

And you had just fulfilled your mission.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I am staring at the screen of my laptop not knowing what to say. Writing threesome is kind of fun, I got to say, albeit I hope I will be able to get better at it through the time. Let me know what you think about it!

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are greatly appreciated!

Until next,

X O X O

TAGS: @axesfordays @brittscafe @lawlerek @axeballs @sadmonke @cyberdazetragedy @some-thing-else-possible @genderfluidnuggettt @getoxmahito @levenlike11 @badbclub @natsukicookies @reinerbraunsodmgear @poisonssworld @allypercocett @sad-darksoul @superspideyparker @tamarasblogs @goose-peachy @fandomsinthegalaxies @lynnsemptymind @the-dark-creature @oneofthesevensins @devianisnottaken @omgimboredsoimhere @mirrormirrorpartii @dinomeow @eyeballpussy @camilalexa93 @huboi @teonawrites @o725v @kikosamus @rose-silk @flakeygod @sukunamylovexoxo @waiting4themoon @insanegirlbloging @ichikanu @tartagl @vimzya

[cryinginmyroomsposts]

New Year's Day - Kim Mingyu

tags: fluff, friends to lovers, slight angst, lil' bit jealous, college boyfriend Mingyu, non-idol!au

masterlist

Not proofread!

"Tell me why we thought hosting a New Year's party at our apartment would be a good idea!" Your roommate's voice comes booming from the kitchen as you struggle to organise the lights on the wall above the sofa in your shared apartment living room.

"It definitely was not my idea." You bite back, regretting the idea the more by the minute as you clean and plan for the party.

"Haw! The audacity... you invited 15 people." Sam glares at you from the doorway, one hand on her hip and the other holding a ladle in a menacing way.

"I didn't know we would end up having to invite all of them." You admit. Sam sighs and walks towards you. "It's okay babe, I know you only wanted to invite Mingyu. It's not your fault he wanted to bring all 12 of his friends. And that two of them would want to bring their significant others."

"I really am sorry for all the trouble you go through for me Sam. I really appreciate it. Thanks." You both know you mean it. Sam had agreed immediately to the idea of the party seeing as how excited she was to see you and Mingyu get together.

Mingyu had been one of your closest friends in the last two years of university and you have been in love with him since the first semester you had met him. After two very lonely and self-destructive semesters of breaking your own heart, watching him date other girls and staying away from the one person you wanted to be close to, this last fall semester Mingyu had finally shown signs of reciprocating your feelings. Or so Sam felt.

At this point, you were so in your head about the whole thing that you could not differentiate reality from the illusions in your head. Breaking your heart had become a child's play for you and now it took constant encouragement and reiteration from Sam to even try to make moves on Mingyu.

He had been single for a whole semester and his behaviour toward you recently had been way different than before. The whole idea of a New Year's Eve party had been Sam and your idea to get Mingyu to finally realise his emotions (if he had any other than that of friendship for you). While the details had not exactly been worked out, you figured you would at least get to spend time with him in a closed setting.

The initial plan was to invite three of each of your friends and keep it as intimate as possible so that you and Mingyu could spend most of the time together. But when Mingyu had excitedly asked if he could bring along some friends, you had given in thinking it would be two or three but it ended up being thirteen instead. Not your fault that he looked like an absolute puppy when he wanted something.

The party was in an hour and now the two of you were running around trying to set right the drinks, decorations and food. Mingyu had promised to show up earlier and help with the food and setup but he was yet to arrive.

The sound of the doorbell breaks your train of thought and you go to open the door.

Speak of the devil.

"Ya! Why are you so late?" You question before he could greet you. As always Mingyu towers your entire doorway while looking gorgeous. He's wearing a simple black tee and joggers but manages to look like a million bucks.

He giggles and pulls you into one of his famous bear hugs and before he can reply another voice echoes from the stairs leading to your doorway.

"Mingyu ya, help me here please." The voice is soft and high-pitched. Before you can question it, Mingyu turns around and runs downstairs. When he returns, there is a girl in front of him, she is dressed in a modest pink dress, with bouncy curls lining her shoulders and a smile that lightens up her whole face. She is very pretty.

"Oh hi. You must be Y/N, Mingyu talks about you a lot. I'm Maya." She says extending her hand out to you. Her voice is soft and she looks very friendly and you shake her hand with a smile on your face.

"Hi, Maya. Welcome! I hope he has only told good things." You joke lightly and she laughs nodding.

"Yes, yes! I hope it is not a problem for me to join." She says as you lead her in, Mingyu towers over both of you as he walks behind her holding a box full of you're not sure what.

"Absolutely not an issue Maya! Please go have fun."

Once they are in, you close the door and walk straight to the closest restroom. When the locks are secured you open the tap and let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding in. It is not logical for you to jump to conclusions, but the fear still creeps in.

"Y/N, stop being stupid! She's a friend, seems sweet and is probably an amazing friend." You tell yourself through the mirror. But the problem is not her, you wouldn't hate or behave differently with her for a second. the problem is you and your fear that Mingyu has again chosen someone else over you. The problem is he doesn't see you, again, and you get left behind to be the best friend only, again.

The feelings are all too familiar to you after all this time. You are very close to breaking your own heart, hurting yet another piece of you to show up as Mingyu's good friend and support him. You are almost entirely convinced and right as you are about to break down the knock on the bathroom door interrupts you.

"Ya Y/N, you okay?" Mingyu's soft "Y/N-voice" (as Sam calls it) booms through the bathroom doors and stabs your heart like a glass shard. This is why it is so much harder to break your own heart. Because this man is so good and caring and everything you could ever want and yet he would never be yours.

"Y/n?" He calls out again. You wash your face and clear your throat as fast as possible. "Yeah, I'll be out in 5. Go mingle with people." He doesn't reply and you are too preoccupied trying to look party-presentable. This is why you jump when you find him staring right at you when you open the bathroom door.

"Jesus! Why did you scare me like that?" You ask trying to calm your heart rate. Instead of replying to you, he locks the closed room door and faces you while holding your shoulders. "What happened? Who should I hurt?" You chuckle and the worry on his face eases a little bit. His care for you only makes it so much harder to distance yourself and try to move on. This man makes it so hard not to love him.

"I'm fine Mingyu. I just had to use the restroom." You try your best to sound convincing but judging from the look of judgment on his face you can say he didn't buy it. Before he can begin his usual "Let people care about you" rant, Sam calls your name from the other end of the house and you excuse yourself to return to the chaos of the party. The rest of the three hours go by in absolute chaos of 13 grown men and 6 girls trying their best to socialize, vibe, and party in your apartment. You keep your distance from Mingyu and Maya, and find yourself clinging to Seokmin- Mingyu's friend. Seokmin is a very hot guy who is determined to be the party clown and you can't help but laugh every other minute at his antics. Everyone seems to be enjoying it, and several games are played.

"Everyone gather round and settle down. Ten minutes to midnight guys!" The sudden excitement in the air is infectious. You see that Seungcheol and Jihoon have settled on the couch with their girlfriends, Vernon is trying to be subtle about sitting next to Sam's classmate who he has been talking to since the evening began.

Right as you can figure out what to do about your Midnight seat, Sam pulls you into the kitchen.

"Where do u think you are going ?" She has the usual no-bs Sam stance, arms crossed across her chest and sharp eyes that can pierce through you.

"I- I am going to sit before Midnight strikes." You know where this conversation is headed.

"Y/N, why were you going to sit on the stool, alone. At midnight." If Sam's eyes were daggers, you would have bled to death in those few seconds of eye contact. The living room is buzzing with energy and you realize there are only 5 minutes left.

"Sam..." you exhale. She shakes her head in disappointment and walks away. You face the kitchen wall away from the living room and breathe.

Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Exhale... In- "Hey..."

Mingyu's soft voice breaks your flow and you whip your head to see him standing right next to you. His palm is placed on the kitchen counter next to you and he is practically shielding you from the outside world.

"All okay?" He says, his voice is soft and slow. His eyebrows are furrowed in concern and he is leaning down to your height, face inches apart. His face is dripping with concern and it breaks yet another piece of your heart.

It would've been much simpler if you had only considered him a good friend like he does with you.

Mingyu lifts his eyebrows emphasising his question when you don't reply. You clear your throat and nod in affirmation.

"I'm good Gyu." "You sure?" You let a small smile at his concern, god he was so sweet. "Yes, Gyu. Don't worry. Just needed a small break from all the crowd before the new year."

He nods because he understands that sometimes crowds can overwhelm you.

"Why are you here?" You ask him, turning slightly to face him better. This immediately turns out to be a mistake as you are now trapped in between the kitchen counter and Mingyu's big frame. As the noise outside gets louder he leans further down toward your face and you repeat your question closer to his ear.

Can he hear how fast your heart is beating? Will he ever know how much you like him?

"I came to check on you because you were missing." He states matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes.

"There are only two more minutes for midnight Gyu. You should be out there, having fun."

"Yeah, you too." He sounds serious and you sigh.

"I will come out but you should go there. Maya will be waiting for you." Your voice croaks the last sentence and the knife in your heart sinks in further.

Mingyu looks confused at your words. "Why would she be waiting for me?"

"30 seconds to the New Year guys!" Someone shouts from the living room and you take another deep breath. Mingyu's eyes haven't left you and you are too nervous to see him for more than a second at a time.

"See less than a minute. Go out there before you miss your midnight kiss." You say in the brightest tone you can muster, hoping he understands you are referring to Maya and his midnight kiss.

"I don't need to be out there for that." He says the words slowly as his face is inches away from yours.

Huh?

Judging by the smirk on Mingyu's face you probably look like a deer caught in headlights at the moment. You're not sure how long you stay frozen like that until someone yells 15 seconds from the living room.

"Wha- what do you mean?" You gulp.

Mingyu moves his face closer, and he lifts one hand from the counter next to you to hold your chin. He angles your face and analyses it.

"Y/N?" Mingyu's voice comes out in a question, one you seem to be understanding.

Your heart is screaming in joy - "HE WANTS YOU TO BE HIS NEW YEAR'S KISS".

Your head is screaming in fear - "HE IS TOYING WITH YOU. RUN."

You gulp again. Mingyu has the softest smile on his face.

"Mingyu, don't play with my heart." Your voice is barely audible but you know Mingyu heard you. The smile on his face illuminates his eyes.

"Would never dream of it." He says in a deep and soft tone.

"5 SECONDS", a voice travels from the living room.

"Is this real, Gyu?" Your heart is beating in your eyes and you are staring deep into his.

He is now holding your face in both of his palms and your back is pressed on the kitchen counter.

"3 SECONDS!"

"As real our beating hearts, Y/N."

You believe him. Your heart believes him. Your brain has shut the fuck up for once.

"2 SECONDS GUYS!"

"So... can I kiss you ?" Mingyu's expression is now clouded with worry and you smile from your heart.

"1 SECOND!"

You nod quickly and right as everyone from the living room is yelling Mingyu's lips come crashing on yours.

It is everything you imagined, and so much more. His lips move against yours slowly. Both of you are smiling into the kiss. Neither of you is in a hurry at that moment, He is savouring you and you are melting into him.

After what feels like an eternity, both of you break apart for the practical purposes of breathing( who invented that huh?!).

Mingyu's face is still close to yours, lips lightly brushing against each other's.

The living room is bursting with energy and all your friends are there but you couldn't care less about anything at this moment.

"Happy New Year." Mingyu sounds content, his eyes are shining with happiness and his smile is incandescent.

"Happy New Year Gyu."

"I'm never starting a new year any other way after this," Mingyu says and you laugh. "Or any day for that matter." He states as he wraps his arms around your waist now.

God, you could get used to this!

"Oh wow, loverboy! Slow down... we still need to talk about things." You remind him because you have always been the one to bring all the anxiety and sense into this relationship.

"Hmm yeah, but a kiss first?" He asks in his signature puppy-Mingyu face. As you're about to lean in you see Sam enter the kitchen from the corner of your vision. She is startled at first and then breaks into the biggest smile as she leaves the two of you alone.

Your smile widens as Mingyu captures your lips once again.

It's been 5 minutes but this is already turning out to be your favourite year ever!

[alernun]

5 of my Favorite Devil's Minion/Armandaniel Fic Authors and Why (In No Particular Order)

I read (and write) an unhealthy amount of Devil's Minion/Armandaniel fic, so I thought this little list was long overdue. These are the authors I find myself returning to again and again, or who are writing some of my fave WIPs right now. 1. Author: Tei on AO3 ~ @bloodripelives here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Acts of Collusion Why I'm Obsessed: Some of the best BDSM I have ever read, and some of the only believable tertiary Danlou I've seen in the fandom. The atmosphere is deeply erotic, almost cloying, and you get the sense that when Louis punishes Armand, it's a healing thing for both of them - a real shot at redemption and cleaning the slate. 2. Author: AnimalCeramics on AO3 - @animalceramics here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Blanket of Night Why I'm Obsessed: Too few people write true horror between these two. This is some of the best psychological horror/suspense horror AND erotica I've ever read full stop. *SNL Guy* It has everything!

3. Author: Thunder_Puss on AO3 - @pickingbelovedoffthesofa here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Lie Back and Let Me Unlock You Why I'm Obsessed: I gotta admit. Cannibal mafia human AU was a hard sell in the summary. But I was IMMEDIATELY sucked in by the BEST scummy young Daniel I have ever read, and a truly insane, vulnerable, beautifully broken Armand. Plus she SHATTERS the Overton Window like you NEVER know what's gonna happen and I love that. 4. Author: Nikocat on AO3 - @nile-the-empathy-cleric here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Ego Death Why I'm Obsessed: Quite simply, this 'Armand goes to art therapy' fic is literature. It has helped me process my own trauma and think about things I experienced in new ways. The world of it is expansive, and Nile NEVER takes the easy way out narratively. 5. Author: GrayGiantess on AO3 - @graygiantess here on tumblr Favorite Fic by Them: Camboy Molloy Why I'm Obsessed: Usually when you see an escort fic in this pairing it's hot young Armand being the escort. I LOVE that it's Old Maniel, and the beautiful details of their budding romance/crackling chemistry in this fic have me consuming every new chapter like fat lines of Louis's coke. Obviously not an exhaustive list. I'll do more of these little listicles as I have time. What are some of your faves?

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - XIII ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 3,325.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 13

Time turned into an indistinct blur, while your breath seemed to freeze in the air. Before you, the man emanated an intimidating aura, his presence filling the small space of the tent with palpable tension. Every detail of his face, sculpted by shadow and dancing light, seemed like a macabre work of art, a mixture of mystery and imminent danger. His dark eyes, deep and penetrating, held yours as if they had the power to probe your soul. And you, paralyzed in front of this spectrum of strength and mystery, could barely utter a single word.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." He chuckled, watching you with interest shining in his dark eyes. Those words, tinged with a touch of humor, echoed in your ears like a distant echo of a distorted reality. Was he mocking you?

"It's because I'm seeing one." You scoffed, your tone laced with disdain as you stared at him firmly, barely able to contain the fear from spreading through your body. He clicked his tongue in disgust at your tone.

The man looked inside the tent, his interest piqued by the surrounding environment. "You look good." He commented, his voice carrying a casual tone, but his expression still enigmatic and impenetrable.

"Why did you bring me here?" You finally asked, your fists clenching as you stared at the man with disgust and a slight fear shining in your gaze.

"All in good time, my dear." He hummed in response, his relaxed tone contrasting with the tension that hovered between you. He approached you, his imposing presence filling the space between you as you struggled to maintain your composure in the face of the uncertainty of what would come next.

"Do not play with me." You spat, your voice filled with suspicion and a hint of suppressed anger.

He arched an eyebrow, a subtle smile dancing on his lips.

"I'm not." He replied seriously, his dark eyes boring into yours with piercing intensity, "I'm not messing with you, sweet girl. Everything I've done has a purpose." His voice echoed in the tent, filled with a conviction you struggled to understand, as the mystery around you seemed to deepen even further.

You felt even more suspicious and uncomfortable with the man's words.

Who was he? Or rather, what was he?

"Who are you?" You finally asked, your jaw clenched in a mix of nervousness and defiance.

"I have several names." He purred in response, a chilling sensation running down your spine as he circled around you like a wary predator, "But you can call me Aslan for now."

Aslan? For now? The name echoed in your mind, loaded with a meaning that you could barely begin to understand.

"What do you want with me?" You frowned, your voice thick with tension and distrust.

“What I want doesn't matter, but what you want does.” He replied calmly, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made you uncomfortable.

What do you want?

"Are you mocking me?" You rolled your eyes, frustrated with his evasive answers, "I'm not in the mood for jokes, Aslan." Your words were spoken firmly, a mixture of irritation and determination evident in your voice. You were going to get answers one way or another.

He laughed darkly, and involuntarily, a chill ran down your spine at the laugh that escaped the man's lips.

"Be patient, my dear. I'll explain everything to you, but for now..." He stopped talking when he heard a commotion outside your tent.

''Finish speaking.'' You ordered, your voice firm and determined, demanding answers in the face of the growing intrigue and urgency of the situation.

He smiled, a mysterious gleam dancing in his eyes, "You're learning to act like a Queen."

You looked him straight into his dark eyes, ''I am one.'' Your statement was delivered with unwavering confidence, your identity and position clearly defined, even amidst the confusion and uncertainty that surrounded you.

You were a Queen. You were the Queen of Macedonia, and as strange as that title still sounded in your ears, it felt right when it left your lips.

Aslan smiled widely, his features softening with the confidence of your words, ''You are.'' He confirmed, his voice filled with respect and recognition, as he slowly headed towards the flap of the tent.

''Where are you going? We're not done talking!'' Your words came out in a rush, your gaze narrowing with each step he took towards the exit.

''Duty calls me.'' He sang, his voice filled with mystery and promise, ''But I'll be back soon. We have plenty of time to talk, (Y/N).'' Aslan bowed slightly and left before you could utter another word.

''Aslan...'' You uttered his name, or one of his names in this case, and was strangely pleased with the sweet way it fell from your lips. Why did he look so familiar? Your fingers gripped the hem of your traditional Persian dress, your nails digging into the soft fabric.

You would have the answers soon, you were sure of that. But for now, there was something more pressing to deal with. You needed to meet Darius in person, a meeting that promised to be crucial to your future.

Darius's tent was exactly as you expected it to be: extravagant. Even in the middle of a war camp, the Persian King did not give up his luxuries and comforts.

As you observed the opulence around him, you couldn't help but reflect on how that very extravagance may have been one of the reasons for Darius' downfall. His excessive indulgence and disconnection from the reality of the challenges he faced as a leader may have weakened his rule and undermined his authority among his people and his armies. Vanity and ostentation can be double-edged weapons, especially in times of conflict and political instability.

As you carefully observed Darius and a man who resembled him, your eyes wandered to the king, whose luxurious attire made it clear that he was Darius. You took in every feature of his features: his dark skin glowing in the golden light of the fire, his long black beard that complemented his face firmly. A faint smile curved his lips as you bowed respectfully before him, and his dark eyes softened slightly.

The similarity between Darius' imposing presence and Alexander's was remarkable, and you couldn't help but find it intriguing. Both possessed an enviable charisma, capable of attracting loyal followers and soldiers, even in the face of defeat and adversity. It was as if an aura of authority and leadership surrounded them, inspiring admiration and respect wherever they went. They were similar in that way.

Perhaps it was this magnetic charisma that allowed Darius to maintain a large number of loyal followers and soldiers, even after suffering defeats in battle. His commanding presence and ability to inspire confidence may have been crucial factors in maintaining his power and influence despite the challenges he faced. That was something admirable, and even though he was technically your enemy, you couldn't help but admire those traits.

''It's a pleasure to meet you in person.'' Darius's deep, calming voice sounded in your ears and you nodded slowly, hiding any possible nervousness. He seemed to know how to speak greek and that made you calmer.

"I say the same," You replied calmly, following Darius' lead and settling into a chair reserved for you, "Though it was unpleasant circumstances we found ourselves in." You couldn't help but poke him lightly, after all, he had kidnapped you. The tension between you was palpable, but you were determined to maintain diplomatic composure. You needed to ensure your safety above all else, especially now that you were pregnant.

Instinctively, your hand found its way to your belly, as if trying to protect the baby growing inside you. Darius's gaze followed the movement and rested on your belly, understanding the source of your apprehension.

"Nothing will happen to you or your child." He assured you calmly, his words filled with sincerity and empathy. A feeling of relief spread through you at his assurance, even though tension still permeated the air around you.

The presence of the man who resembled Darius, with malice shining in his eyes, further heightened your sense of unease. As Darius cleared his throat and called a name in Persian that you vaguely recognized as Bagoas, you knew you were looking at an intriguing historical character.

You knew Bagoas's name from contemporary records, which described him as a eunuch who had been the lover of both Darius and Alexander after the conquest of Persia. Your frown at this information was inevitable, and you stared at him as he entered the tent, carrying a jug of wine. Your eyes followed his every movement as he poured the liquid into three cups, and you couldn't help but notice the subtle glance he threw your way before disappearing with silent steps.

Darius took a sip of his wine and the other man did the same. Meanwhile, the wine in front of you remained untouched, as you knew that drinking alcohol during pregnancy was not recommended at all.

The other man finally decided to speak, his rough voice echoing in the tent. The greek that came from his lips was a little difficult to understand, but his words were clear, "We brought you here to negotiate."

Darius stared at the man disapprovingly and sighed, ''That's Bessus.''

Bessus. Uh-huh. This was bad. You knew this man and didn't trust him at all and it seemed like even Darius didn't trust him.

''To negotiate what?'' You raised your eyebrows.

''In exchange for your safety and life, Alexander must abandon the war and return home.'' Bessus replied, drinking his wine with great enthusiasm. You looked at him with disdain evident in your eyes. Did they really think Alexander would give up so easily? They will be fools then.

The idea that Alexander would give up so easily was absurd, and those who believed it were mistaken. Alexander was a formidable leader, determined to pursue his goals with fierce determination, and you knew he would never abandon the war without fighting until his last breath. He would rather die fighting than return as a coward.

"Alexander won't give up." You replied firmly, your voice thick with conviction, "He never will."

Bessus's expression was disdainful as he arched his eyebrow, "Not even for his beloved pregnant wife?"

You fought the urge to punch Bessus at his taunts and replied dryly, "Alexander will destroy the world for me, and you made a huge mistake by bringing me here."

There was a certain arrogance in your voice, but it was the truth. You knew the destructive power Alexander was capable of inflicting when provoked, and those who dared to defy him were playing with fire.

You remembered the stories about what he did to his enemies, to those who dared to cross his path or take what was his. His revenge was swift and merciless, sending a clear message to all those who dared defy him: there was no mercy for traitors and invaders. Darius and Bessus were in hot water when they decided to kidnap you.

''Let's talk, shall we?'' Darius interrupted the conversation between you and Bessus, sensing the animosity between you.

You nodded, even though you knew this conversation wouldn't get you anywhere. Their situation was complicated, and it seemed like they were about to face the consequences of their actions.

Every action has a reaction, right?

"My wife is not here?" Alexander's voice was low, but his fury resonated clearly in every word, his clenched fists denoting his intense emotion.

The generals present, Hephaestion and Ptolemy, seemed worried and fearful of the king's wrath. Finally, Hephaestion decided to take the lead, his expression carefully controlled to avoid further provoking Alexander's explosive reaction.

"She is not here." He said with the greatest caution he could have at that moment, his words chosen precisely to convey the truth without triggering an even more violent reaction from the King. The tension in the air was palpable, as everyone awaited Alexander's next response and the consequences that could follow.

"She's not here.'' Alexander repeated, his voice sounding louder, reverberating through the room. Ptolemy swallowed hard, feeling the weight of responsibility in deciding to speak,

"(Y/N)'s guards said they didn't find her in her tent when they woke up.'' He stated, holding Alexander's menacing gaze as long as he could, his expression showing both concern and determination.

Finally, the King snapped. His fists hit the poor makeshift table hard, causing it to fall with a deafening crash. Hephaestion fought the urge to shudder at Alexander's display of fury.

"So where is she?" Alexander asked, his voice filled with anger and despair, staring intensely at his two friends, "WHERE IS SHE?" The last question was shouted, echoing off the walls of the room and reverberating in the minds of everyone present. The tension reached its peak, as everyone awaited the answer with a mixture of apprehension and fear for what could happen next.

"W-We don't know!" Ptolemy was quick to say, fearing for his life, his words flowing in a torrent of fear. "We've done a thorough search of the entire camp and surrounding area, but there's no trace of her. It's as if she's disappeared."

"People don't disappear out of thin air." Alexander sneered, his penetrating and suspicious gaze scanning every detail of his generals' faces. His blue eye narrowed, emanating an intensity that made it clear he would not accept evasive answers or excuses.

Hephaestion decided to speak to try to help calm his friend, aware of the urgency of providing any information that could help or worsen the situation.

"According to the guards stationed at her tent, they were knocked out and the Queen was gone." He reported, his voice firm but filled with concern.

Alexander looked his friend in the eyes, his expression a mixture of anger and grim determination, "Who took her?" His question was uttered with increasing urgency, indicating that he would not rest until he found answers and brought his wife back safely.

Ptolemy and Hephaestion exchanged a heavy look of mutual significance. They knew Alexander wouldn't take this information very well. Betrayal was never something he dealt with easily, especially when it came from such a dear friend.

Taking a deep breath and mentally preparing himself for the coming storm, Hephaestion took the lead once again.

"Perdiccas." He said, his voice heavy with the weight of revelation as he faced Alexander's furious gaze. The words hung in the air, loaded with inevitable consequences, while everyone awaited the King's explosive reaction to the betrayal of one of his closest confidants.

"Perdiccas.'' Alexander repeated the name carefully, feeling a bitter taste of betrayal in his mouth.

Perdiccas.

His childhood friend, his trusted general, now revealed himself as the traitor who had kidnapped his wife. The reality of the situation hit Alexander with devastating force, a mixture of disbelief and fury boiling inside him. How could someone he trusted so deeply betray like this?

The feeling of betrayal pierced his heart like a sharp blade, leaving him furious and determined to carry out the worst punishment, torture known to man.

The fury building inside Alexander was like an uncontrolled hurricane, a primal force that threatened to devour everything in its path. His vision turned red, his mind flooded with images of violence and revenge. All he could see was a pool of blood and a cruelly mutilated body in the middle of it. Perdiccas' body.

He wanted revenge, revenge as brutal and painful as the betrayal he had experienced. The pain of being betrayed like that tore him apart, consuming him with an overwhelming rage that threatened to swallow him whole.

The idea of killing Perdiccas slowly and painfully took root in his mind like an obsession. He imagined every macabre detail, every torment he would inflict on the traitor, fueled by the relentless thirst to recover what belonged to him and the unbearable pain of betrayal.

With a herculean effort to contain his burning fury, Alexander finally managed to muster the strength to ask, "Where did he take her?"

"We don't know yet." Ptolemy replied, his eyes fixed on Alexander as he carefully assessed the King's reaction.

The answer seemed to echo in the room, filled with tension and uncertainty. Alexander was strangely restrained, his expression too controlled for the tastes of those present. This was worrying. Ptolemy and Hephaestion exchanged a quick glance, sharing their silent apprehension at what might come next. The approaching storm was invisible, but the tension in the air was palpable, foreshadowing a series of events that could change the course of history.

With palpable determination, Alexander finally made a decision. He stared at the broken table, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and resolve.

"Send all available men to search for any possible information." He ordered firmly, "Spread the news and whoever brings me information about my wife's whereabouts will receive a generous reward."

Ptolemy nodded in understanding and hurriedly left the tent, leaving Hephaestion and Alexander alone in the silent wreckage. The tension in the air was almost palpable, but beneath this layer of anger and worry, there was an unwavering determination that guided Alexander's every action. He was determined to find his wife, no matter the cost.

Hephaestion carefully approached Alexander, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Alexander did not react immediately, his mind still absorbed in turbulent and bloody thoughts.

"Alexander?" Hephaestion's voice sounded gentle and calming, seeking to draw his friend's attention to the present.

"Hephaestion," Alexander replied carefully, his voice filled with determination and a focused intensity, "I want Perdiccas to be brought to me alive."

Hephaestion nodded silently, even though he knew Alexander wasn't looking directly at him. He perfectly understood the implicit meaning behind the order to bring Perdiccas alive.

Even without being asked, Alexander continued, his voice filled with determination and a calculated coldness, "I want to interrogate him personally, ask him why he betrayed me and stole my wife. And then, personally, I will torture him and kill him." The words were delivered with icy calm, but there was no doubt that each one carried a deadly weight.

Alexander's determination was unwavering, his mind focused on just one goal: getting his wife back, no matter the cost. He was willing to throw all of his power and destructive force against any obstacle that he dared to stand in his way.

Cities would fall, armies would be torn to pieces, and populations would be subjugated. Men would be killed, while women and children would be taken into slavery, all in the name of desperately searching for his beloved Queen. Alexander did not care about the human or moral cost of his actions; his fiery fury eclipsed any consideration of compassion or mercy.

The entire world would tremble at Alexander's wrath, for he was determined to leave a trail of destruction in his wake towards those who dared to defy him and take away what was most precious to him. His journey would be marked by blood, pain and suffering, but he would not rest until his wife was safe in his arms again, no matter what the cost.

He would recover his Lost Queen.

— lady l: And things get more and more complicated for the Persians, don't they? Poor things, they thought it was a good idea to steal a yandere's wife. There wasn't one to warn you, right?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I changed my writing style a little and I hope this pleases you. Feel free to send your feedback and I'll see you in the next chapter! Love you all!! ❤️

[delopsia]

nosedive | rhett abbott x reader

Word Count: 18,900 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader. Storm chasers AU, Kate, and Tyler appear but are so inconsequential that they can be read as OC's. You do not need to watch Twisters to understand and read this fic! Arguing, brief food mentions, undisclosed past trauma, storm chasing, vehicle accidents, anxiety attacks, friends to lovers, grinding, unprotected sex, includes a sketch that I traced from stock photos I stitched together. Brief Summary: You swore off storm chasing a long time ago. You haven't been able to look at that old truck since the accident, and if you could have your way, you'd never think about that part of your life ever again. You've moved on. Every time you touch that damn truck, something goes wrong. But when your friend and her so-called business partner become wrapped up in a never-ending quarrel, it's Rhett who becomes your biggest supporter. You think you're beginning to remember why you used to love this. How you used to live for your out-of-this-world builds and ideas. Or maybe…just maybe, you're beginning to fall in love with something that isn't a truck.

"So, at what point are we going to tell them?"

"What would that be?" Speaking with the straw against your lips, seconds away from taking another sip of that cheap gas station coffee. "That I'm the one who keeps filling Rhett's truck with tiny ducks?"

"No," Kate's eyes roll, her head shaking ever so slightly, not quite ready to admit to her part in it. "About Dallas."

A gust of wind blows past. Entirely invisible to the eye, and yet you catch Kate's head following as it twists through the field, the wheat rippling in waves. Strange how something you can't even see can cause so much trouble, ripping up the garage roof, blowing Rhett's hat down the driveway, and taking that long-awaited Amazon package across the lawn.

Worse, it blows your straw around, leaving you to gape like a fish as you blindly try to find it again. "Do we even want to tell them?"

Her brow furrows. Confused.

"You can't convince me it's not entertaining to watch them puff up like a bunch of peacocks when we mention him," you can't help but giggle, memories flickering through your head like a slideshow. Rhett grumbling about Dallas under his breath. Tyler pulling up his YouTube channel to prove he's done bigger things than this Dallas guy ever could. Overhearing them griping about him in the hotel gym. "Can you imagine the look on their faces when they finally see him?"

A smile bursts onto her face. "You drive a fair point."

Something clangs to the left. Appearing so suddenly that both of your heads swivel toward it.

Speak of the devil.

Rhett and Tyler. Hauling some kind of unnamed contraption to the trucks. You're pretty sure that it's supposed to put extra weight on the chassis to prevent them from being blown around as easily. Rhett's been muttering about having to build a new one ever since his original build cracked a few days ago.

If you weren't distracted, you think you would be able to recall more of the details, but all you can focus on is...

"Are they allergic to shirts?" Kate chirps after a long moment, but she's not making any effort to peel her eyes away.

Neither are you. Too wrapped up in the way Rhett's bicep flexes as he readjusts his grip on the steel frame. Not quite as bulky as Tyler, but he's got a wiriness to him that almost seems to hypnotize you, stuck staring until you run the risk of being caught. "Are we complaining?"

"Absolutely not," and you only peel your gaze away when you realize that they're walking toward your little afternoon coffee party. You're not dealing with the misery that is Tyler's cockiness again.

Kate's got the same idea, her cheeks dusted with a subtle shade of pink that wasn't there a few seconds ago. Something flickers behind her eyes, the same kind of glint you're used to seeing when she's caught the trail of a brewing storm, but she doesn't say anything.

You wonder if this new frame means they'll focus on upgrading those drills next. Anchoring two feet into the ground was likely an impressive feat when they first installed that onto the rigs, but the technology has progressed so much further since then. Longer augers would be a start, twisting deeper into the earth, harder to be ripped out by high winds. 

"So, do you know when Dallas is coming in?" Kate asks once the boys are within earshot, like she doesn't know the answer to her own question.

Rhett's head perks. Tyler peeks over his sunglasses.

"Few more days, I think," feigning interest in your drink, swirling the straw in circles, anything to pretend that you haven't noticed them yet. "Sunday at the latest."

"Dallas!" Tyler crows. So loud and sudden that you jolt in your seat. "Finally comin' to meet us, huh?"

Rhett peeks at you through the corner of his eye, either too focused on the task at hand or not quite bold enough to match Tyler's antics. Even from a distance, it's difficult to miss the way his gaze rakes up and down your frame as if transfixed by your pajama shorts and the beauty that is your half-awake face.

"He was supposed to be here earlier, but..." motioning toward the empty beer can blowing past. Budweiser's aluminum version of a tumbleweed. "Another wind delay."

Tyler scoffs, the heel of his boot thunking against the can and sending it flying. "How many more times is he gonna use that excuse?"

"As many times as he wants," Kate's stolen the words right out of your mouth, her shoulders shrugging as she turns her attention back to her cell phone.

Wind howls in your ear, rolling the ballpoint pen across the table and right into your cup. It tips before you can even comprehend what's happening, the remnants of your coffee spilling into the dirt. 

"I reckon that's my sign to head inside," you sigh, defeated. This battle was lost the moment you quit paying attention to your drink.

There's not much for you to gather, but nature herself had might as well be interfering with your every move. Blowing the cup toward the garage, rustling your notebook pages when you scoop it up, the pen jumping off the edge of the table just to rub salt into the wound. It's not bothering anything else, not Kate's hair, not the dumb hat on Tyler's head, just your things.

Talk about a personal vendetta.

At least the garage has never betrayed you like this. Cozy and windless, albeit a bit dusty, depending on the day of the week and what project Rhett is working on. The loveseat tucked into the far right corner is much softer than that sunbleached wooden chair, the beaten cushions enveloping you in a loose hug. The thick armrest is the perfect size to fit your notebook. Doesn't have you trying to cram yourself into an itty bitty space. 

And with the back of the couch being up against the wall, there's no opportunity for someone to mosey up and peek at your notes, either. 

The side of the pen is dented, the groove creating the perfect space for your finger to settle into as you begin to draw. This must be the pen that you forgot on the roof of your car and wound up driving overtop of. 

Ink drips from the tip in spurts, scattering across the page in small, ugly blotches. What's supposed to be your delicate sketchings of an idea are starting to look more and more like an interpretive art piece in a museum. Is it a component for one of the storm vehicles, or is there an underlying message about the beauty of mistakes and brokenness?

Whatever. The answer only matters if it's attached to a big, fat check from a private collector looking to hang it next to a myriad of other, questionably produced works. 

"Whatcha ya doin' over there?" Rhett's voice echoes through the garage, seems to come from so many directions that you don't realize where he is until you spot him in your peripheral. Red dirt and grease smeared across his forearms, sweat glistening in the overhead light. You already know he doesn't smell the best, but you can't say you hate the sight of him.

Your pen drifts across the paper once more, streaking through a blob of collected ink in your efforts to build the general shape of a truck. "Sketching." 

It's such a bland reply. Shouldn't intrigue him in the slightest, and yet you can hear the soft thunk of his boots against the cement floor, drawing closer. "Sketchin' what?" 

"A fantasy for an advanced anchoring system," your pen darts across the metal arms, extending from the roof of the truck, one on the passenger side and one on the driver, anchored into the ground. "Buildable, but it's not a feasible idea." 

The light reflects off of his rodeo buckle. Amelia County's bull riding champion. "Can I see?"

You're not sure why he wants to look at your fantasy sketches, but you don't have the energy nor the will to tell him no. Certainly not when he's bending down next to you, so close that his bicep bumps into your arm, hot and swollen from hauling around that heavy frame. You're making no effort to move away, either. If anything, you're moving closer, turning the notebook for him to see.

As if to guide his thoughts, his index finger traces across the lines, grease-stained and so, so much thicker than yours. "What's makin' ya think it won't work?"

"It's not realistic." Easy answer. There's a reason why nobody else has done this. 

But Rhett's head just tilts to the side, a thought visibly crossing his mind. You know it's there; can see it glisten in his eyes as it passes by. "Yes, it is." 

You feel the tug of your arm and the warmth of his hand around your wrist before you realize that he's pulling you up from the couch. There's a creak in your knee as you rise, helplessly stumbling after him.

"What are you doing?" You're chirping, but Rhett doesn't reply, too dead set on hauling you to the other side of the room.

He spins. So do you. The garage blurs into streaks of gray.

Then your back bumps into his sweaty chest, and you're staring at...a newly built drill for the frame. 

"Does this look unrealistic to you?" His voice rumbles straight through you, low as the thunder that you've spent too much of your life chasing. 

"Well...no," you croak after a long moment, "but you already know that it—"

"What about that?" His hand darts out, pointing toward the old radar, built out of scrap material and the sheer power of will. It doesn't work anymore, not after that hunk of debris split it down the middle, but it did for a good few weeks. 

Rhett isn't waiting for you to reply, already pointing toward another contraption. The roll cage, and the rest of the steel exoskeleton frame that hasn't been welded onto Tyler's truck. Then he's guiding your attention to the windshield and window cages; lord knows those glass replacements are getting expensive. The armor plating that has yet to be welded to the vehicles, the reinforced overhead spotlights, the custom grill guards, and all of the little, unnamed crafts that you have yet to see in action.

"None of this was feasible, either," his words are solid, fleeting things, dancing around your head like words from the gods above, "but we still gave it a shot." 

A puff of air breaks past your lips. 

All of that happened long before you and Kate stumbled across them crammed into the corner of a Waffle House. Their trucks were already built. Field tested beyond belief. But...well, you suppose his ideas had to have started the same way yours do, a random thought that evolved out of control until it became a reality.

"Your ideas are no more unrealistic than these were," Rhett murmurs, and it almost sounds like he's sharing a secret. A whimsical little thought meant to stay between the two of you.

...maybe he has a point. 

You turn, twisting to face him. The tips of your noses bump. Piecing blue eyes staring right back into yours, wide as can be. Too close. Way too close. But you don't make any effort to move, and neither does he. He should. Fuck, any closer, and you'd be kissing him, can already taste his minty toothpaste on his breath. 

"Rhett!" Boone's voice arcs across the room like lightning, sends you jumping apart as if struck by it. "You fixin' to bring that upper frame or what?" 

Whatever that moment was, it's gone in an instant. 

Your head comes so close to hitting the ceiling that you can feel it graze past. Seatbelt cinching tight around your chest. Ass bouncing against the seat. Struggling to keep both your hands on the shivering plastic handle overhead. Something clatters across the floor, landing in the mess of components and contraptions that met their maker three bumps ago.

You'd complain, but Tyler's rollercoaster of a truck looks even worse than whatever the hell you just experienced. 

"I'm shocked this old truck has survived this long," you're trying to sound calm, but it comes out resembling a yelp more than anything else. "I remember you driving to high school with this thing." 

Rhett's hands flutter across the wheel, a wave of mud kicking up from under the back tires. "These ol' ranch trucks last forever if you take care of 'em."  

"Doesn't care involve things like...not driving into ditches?" Your shoulder presses against the glass, sliding around as the truck veers to the left, loosely chasing Tyler's messy trail. 

"Probably," he laughs, "but we survived, didn't we?" 

"I'm not too sure about that," frankly, you think half of your soul may still be sitting on the road, milliseconds away from experiencing the horror of Rhett's truck diving into the ditch.

"Oh, c'mon," his hand darts out, nudging your arm, "ya worry too much."

You haven't forgotten about the clouds twisting up ahead, downward spiraling, growing thinner and thinner as it nears the earth. A plume of red dirt rises, staining what was once a perfect, white funnel cloud. Wind squeals around the edges of the truck, wedging its way through the nonexistent gaps between the windows and wailing in your ear. 

Tyler's truck rips straight into the center, unhindered by the mud and soybean plants being hurled against it. There's already a drone dancing around the upper part of the funnel, bobbing and weaving, serves as the eyes for however many people are watching the live stream it's broadcasting. 

Rhett's a little more conservative, looping out to the side and into the path of the tornado instead. Leaves scatter across the windshield, wedging beneath the windshield wipers. But the nose of the truck turns to face the cyclone, and the wind is already beginning to tear them away. 

"Wanna press the button?" You can hardly hear him. Only realize he's talking when you notice his mouth moving.

You're already reaching out, pressing the little green button on the dash. 

The drills whir to life, entirely inaudible, but it's impossible to miss their vibration as they dig down into the soil, the truck gradually sinking lower. 

One blink and the world around you turns to dust. The little ranch truck shivers under the battering of the wind; feels like you're going to blow away at any moment, but nothing around you is moving. 

Hesitant, you peek out the passenger window up at the tornado overhead. It's almost calm. A little quieter now. The crystal sky peeks through the twirling clouds, and if you tilt your head just right, it kind of looks like one of Rhett's gentle blue eyes. 

Rhett's elbow nudges yours as you settle back into your seat. 

You know what he's going to say before he's even opened his mouth. 

"Now, is this more fun than it is with Dallas?" Always comparing your ventures together to what you've done in the past, like he's aiming to jump up to the top of your 'Best Experiences' list.

"Nah," repeating the same thing you always tell him. He should have expected this answer from a mile away. "Dal still has ya beat."

His eyes roll, but he laughs nonetheless. Defeated again. "One of these days, I'm—"

Bang.

The truck jumps. 

Something sharp scatters across your face. Wind screams in your ears. 

The world flips on its head. Upside down. Rightside up. Upside down again. It jars you so hard that your teeth snap together, head smacking against the seat, and there's something yanking against your chest, and your ears are popping and, and, and—

You should have known that was coming. 

Why didn't you know that was coming?

You don't feel the pressure on your shoulders until it's gone. Replaced with something warm that you can't identify. Can't think to try and identify where it's coming from. Something about your head doesn't feel right, but it doesn't hurt. Tickles. Like something is running down the side of it.

The truck flipped. How did the truck flip? 

Fuck.

You, from three years ago, would have seen that coming from a mile fucking away. How have you gotten worse at the one thing you're supposed to be good at? You should've checked the drills, the circuits, the wires. Why didn't you run through any of the safety checks before you left? What if the tornado had been stronger? Sucked you up and spit you out several hundred feet into the air? 

Did you not learn from the last time? 

This was entirely avoidable.

There's something muttering near you. Sounds like thunder in a strange sort of way. Deep rumbles, rolling in one ear and out the other. But thunder doesn't pause in the middle of its booming, not like this. 

"We're okay."

Your throat is so raw that you can hardly speak. Dry, too. Chest heaving, sucking in air faster than your lungs can handle it. What, what...what...

"We're okay," Rhett. That's Rhett's voice in your ear. "We're okay." 

And he keeps saying it. Over and over, like he's trying to convince himself just as much as he's trying to convince you. But it's not working. You're still shivering, and his voice is lodging in his throat, and...

Your head goes dark. 

You don't necessarily know if you pass out or if your memory decided to stop writing things down. 

One moment, you're in the truck, and the next, you're sitting in the middle of a hospital room, squinting as a nurse shines a blinding light directly into your eye. She hums something to the woman next to her, then turns the light off. 

There's a spot in your vision now. Dead center, lingering as you turn your head to look at whoever is sitting next to you, entirely blocking out their face. Their hand over top of yours, thumb swiping idly across your skin, back and forth in a rhythm that you haven't figured out yet.

"What failed?" You know it's your voice, can feel your mouth shaping around the words, but it sounds nothing like you. 

"Hm?" Rhett's hum nearly disappears amongst the commotion going on around you. 

"The truck," trying again, a little more specific now. "What went wrong back there?"

Stitches line his forearm, probably sliced open by the same thing that left the cuts on the left side of his cheek. Glass from the shattered windshield, you think. 

"You'll never believe this," he leans closer like he doesn't want anyone else to hear what he's about to say. "We got hit by a tree."

That doesn't... "A...tree?" Parroting him. You're expecting for him to furrow his brows and ask how in the world you've managed to mishear him, but all he does is nod. You heard him perfectly. 

All of that was because of a tree hitting the side of the truck. Probably struck hard enough to rip the drills from the ground and gave the tornado all the leverage it needed to start throwing you around like a children's toy.

...huh. 

"Hey, is there a lug wrench sittin' over there?" Rhett asks, his foot kicking out toward the tool cabinet as if to try and point you toward it. Whatever he's doing up under the truck, he must not be able to see that you're already standing in front of the damn cabinet. 

You already see them, sitting amongst the mess of tools resting on top of it. "You've got two." 

His head pokes out from the side. "I do?"

"One is silver, the other is black," lifting them both for him to see. You don't see a difference between them; they both do the same thing, but you're not the one needing them.

"Give me..." his lips purse, "the black one."

You bend down, handing the tool off to him, but the silver one is still in your other hand. "Remind me again what drawer these belong in?"

He taps the thing against his chin. "Any of the middle ones is fine." 

"And here you wonder why you can never find anything," you tease, an ache blooming in your chest as you laugh, still a bit sore from being rolled around like Mother Nature's bowling ball.

Something metal hits the floor, audibly rolling away. A bolt, you think. Rhett swears, boots squeaking as he clambers out from beneath the vehicle. "'ts hard to stay organized when ya share a garage with someone like Tyler."

"That bad?" You would look to see what he's chasing, but organizing this mess is higher on your priority list. 

There's so much junk on the top of this cabinet that you can't figure out what is what, in such a disarray that it seems to swallow up everything you sit on top of it. Somewhere in here is your ten-millimeter socket. 

Kate's voice echoes from outside, loud enough for you to hear her but not enough for you to understand her. Tyler shouts back, the slam of a truck door punctuating whatever he has to say. You think he's still talking when Kate blurts something that sounds like an "I don't care!" Tyler doesn't seem to like that at all.

You turn to look at Rhett right as he does the same. Defeat. Confusion. An overall look of being absolutely done with hearing it from them. You recognize it all; you're feeling the same damn thing. 

And here you thought you'd found a place to escape from them.

"Are those two ever gonna get together?" Rhett whines after a moment. 

Your head shakes, "Kate's got a strict 'no dating business partners' clause." 

They're getting closer now, slowly but surely carrying their argument to the garage. You're not sure why. Everyone was there when the argument started in the restaurant, gradually clearing all of you out of the booth with to-go boxes and a migraine to boot. 

Rhett reaches through the open truck window, pressing the garage door opener. With a groan, it starts to close, taking away your fresh midnight air but granting more silence in return. "Does that rule apply to you, too?"

"I'm not sure," you'd never actually...considered if you were wrapped up in that law or if it was Kate-exclusive. "Why?"

Rhett's eyes dart away. 

Have his ears been red this whole time? Or maybe it's a trick the light is playing on you because it seems to disappear as he rushes toward the side door, sliding the deadbolts into place and twisting the locks. 

There's no way that he's... "Are you seriously locking them out?" 

"Do you wanna hear them argue for another hour?" He doesn't need for you to answer that; he already knows the answer. "Get me that padlock off the table."

Padlock. Shit, where did you last see that?

There's so much on this table. Jumper cables. Tools. Tools. More tools. Bolts. A box of nails. Your missing socket. A chocolate candy wrapper. Tootsie rolls. Another box of nails. Shit, is that a broken phone case? You push your hands through the mess, shoving it all to the side, but you don't see it. Where is it? Where is it? 

Someone knocks on the garage door. Rattling across the garage.

Fuck, fuck, where is it? You don't see—

There it is.

You don't feel it in your grasp until you're halfway across the room. Shoving it into Rhett's open hands. The garage door rattles. But Rhett's shoving the hook through a hole in the tracks, squeezing it closed until it clicks. 

"Are y'all in there?" Tyler's muffled voice is the last thing you want to hear. 

Something moves in the window. 

Your body moves on its own. Grabbing Rhett by the bicep. Diving toward the couch. 

He's too big to be tumbling after you, but he does, the loveseat squealing as he lands on top of you. An elbow finds its way into your ribs. Your knee slots between his thighs. His hair is in your face, and you can smell the vanilla of his cologne, and his hand is on your waist—

"Rhett?" Tyler tries again. Knuckles tap at the window. 

You know they can't see you. If they could, then they would be calling you out on it. 

This couch isn't wide enough for you and Rhett to be lying on it like this, your shoulder hanging off the edge, his knees awkwardly bent to make room for your legs. He's finding a way to make it work, though. Wedging himself up against the back cushion, granting you enough room to roll onto your side without falling off. 

You're not sure if you want to comment on the arm that drapes around your waist, securing you to him. 

"I entirely forgot about the window," he whispers. Does he think Tyler can hear him talking from outside? 

Laughing, you tap him on the nose. "I know you did." 

So much of his hair has fallen into his face that you can no longer see his expression, concealed under a mass of unruly, brunette curls, untamable by any means of the word. He can very well push it out of the way himself, but for some reason, you find that your hand is beginning to do that for him. Collecting locks of it with your fingers, sorting them to their respective sides, tucking some of it behind his ear. 

"Watcha doin'?" He asks as you unveil his hidden eye. It looks bluer than it was before.

Your touch falters. "I wanted to see your face." 

"Yeah?" The corner of his lip lifts a little. 

"Yeah." Nodding. 

And your hand just...falls onto his cheek. Idly resting there, like this is exactly where it belongs, where it's always gone after you've finished fixing his hair. 

Worse. He doesn't make any effort to stop you, lets your thumb swipe up and down his skin, meandering across the tiny cuts that linger there. If you didn't know any better, you would think he nicked himself while shaving, but there are far too many of them for that. Too high, too. There's even one up beside the corner of his eye.

"No!" Even the garage door isn't enough to muffle Kate's voice. "We're not doing that, Tyler!"

Tyler isn't quite as loud. You can hear the general sound of his voice, carrying through a sentence or two, but you can't make out a single word. 

"Because—because it's ridiculous," Kate's still going. Tyler says something a bit louder.

You don't know when Rhett started moving, but all of a sudden, you're way too aware of how close his face is getting. Inching closer and closer until...

He rubs his nose against yours. Slow little motions that don't stop until you can no longer fight off your smile.

"What're you doing?" You giggle, making no real effort to stop him. 

He's too close for you to see his mouth, but you recognize the way that the corners of his eyes turn upward with his grin. "Distractin' ya." 

It must be working because you no longer have the capacity to think about what's going on in the driveway. His hand smooths up your back, making its way up to your face, and he's so warm, heat radiating off his palm like he's got a small fire burning in his veins. Rough fingertips brush against your cheek, hesitant to make any solid contact. 

"Your cheek is still swollen," his palm gradually comes to flatten against your cheek, his hand so big that it seems to cover your entire face. 

Kate's voice echoes in the back of your head. No dating business partners. But something about his touch...it's addicting. "Well, that's what happens when you get thrown around by a tornado." 

He doesn't seem to have much else to say to that. 

To be fair, you don't know what you would say to that, either. 

His thumb swipes across the upper portion of your cheek. Your fingers find their way down to his jaw, pushing through the stubble there. It's soft, has had time to lose the stiffness that comes with being recently shaved. 

It seems that you may have finally lost Kate and Tyler; you don't hear them bickering outside, at least. You lift your head, craning to look over the arm of the couch and at the door. The window is impossible to see from this angle, but you get the feeling that they're no longer standing outside. 

"What's that?" You ask, nodding toward something that you know he can't see.

Rhett's fingers trace their way over to the shell of your ear, not interested in trying to look at what you're asking him about. "Hm?"

"The little contraption sitting next to the door," clarifying, "it looks like a bunch of pipes welded together."

"Oh, that's...supposed to be a tree to hold a bunch of different instruments," he tilts his head back a little, realizes he can't see anything without sitting up, then immediately lets himself fall back against the couch. "I can get everythin' on it, but I can't get it to stay on."

"Industrial glue and steel hose clamps." You have to pause for a moment, sifting through dusty memories, trying to recall how you used to protect Kate's old contraptions. "Maybe build a thin cage around it in case those two things fail."

Rhett's quiet again, his brows knitting together. 

Is he confused, or is he just thinking about what you said? 

It takes him some time to find his words, half-built sentences flickering behind his eyes. You can practically hear the gears turning up in his head. And then, hestiant, his lips part. "I feel like you know a lot more 'bout storm chasin' than you let on."

Something in your lower belly twists. "What's telling you that?"

"You're confident when you're in here," he doesn't need any more time to think on this, his thoughts flowing off his tongue like a waterfall, "most of the folks who walk in here don't have the slightest clue what we're building, but you recognize almost all of it." 

Your eyes dart away, looking down at your intertwined legs, bent and crammed onto this tiny little couch. His fingers curl around your jaw, gently guiding you to look him in the eye.

For reasons unbeknownst to you, you don't fight him on it. 

"You draw up some of the coolest concepts I've ever seen, you...you..." the corner of his lip wobbles up and down. The sight of it makes your head feel funny. "Shit, you make me feel like I'm not the only person here who knows how to do this kind of stuff." 

You suppose you should have expected this. It takes one to know one, and you haven't done yourself any favors by always working with him in this dingy old garage. But you don't entirely know how to respond to that or where you should even start...

"I used to work on an old storm truck that Kate and I owned," it comes out so easily that it almost surprises you, "but that was...god, that was forever ago."

Rhett's eyelashes flutter, his head tilting like that of a curious puppy. "Why'd you never tell me?" 

Shattered glass. The snap of hydraulics splitting in half. Blood blurring your vision. Ear-splitting howling. The world flipping on its head. Rain in your eyes. Steel digging through your back. Your chest tightens. Hail pounding into your skull. The screaming. It's your fault. It's your fault. It's your fault. 

And you're...warm. 

"'m sorry," Rhett murmurs, and you don't know when he got so close, but you can feel the vibration of his voice against your nose. A careful hand smooths up your back, another arm securing you to him, tucked up under his chin, shielded from the glaring openness of this too-big garage.

He doesn't move, and neither do you. But this time...this time, you think you know why. 

Rubber squeals against the pavement, so shrill that it soars above the roar of the engine. Your shoulder slams into the window, seat belt cinching tight as everything spins into a blur. 

"Tyler!" Kate yelps.

"Kate!" Tyler. Ever so mocking.

"You're gonna get another ticket." Her hand darts out, smacking his arm. Tyler's got something clever to say about that; you don't hear any of it. If you start listening now, you'll have a migraine before the funnel cloud touches the ground.

Rhett meets your gaze out of the corner of his eye. Telepathy must be real because you know exactly what's running through his head.

Here we go again. 

If you'd known this would start up again, then you probably would have faked an illness to stay home. A headache, an upset stomach, or a sudden onset of death that will miraculously cure itself when the storm chase ends. Anything.

Tires squeal again, the truck seeming to tip onto its front wheels. The seatbelt yanks on your shoulders, throwing you back into the seat. Rhett's phone smacks against the console. A scattering of papers, nameless weather instruments, and unlit rockets scatter across the floor. 

Wind rocks the vehicle back and forth. Squealing through the crack in the window like a kettle boiling over. Or maybe you're just hearing things because nobody else seems to hear it. Tyler's shouting into his camera. Kate's rattling something off about how the tornado is forming directly above the town you're driving through.

A wave of rain pelts the windshield. Hail pattering on the roof. Something silver flies past the nose of the truck, striking the building to your right. The brick splinters, debris falling like rain. Kate yells something. Tyler shouts back at her.

"Hang on, hang on," Rhett jumps in his seat, blindly smacking his hand on the console, looking at something you can't see, "stop the truck."

But Tyler is saying something into the CB radio, veering the truck to the right with one hand. Kate doesn't lift her head from the scanner. And they're still fucking arguing. You don't know if they even hear Rhett over the clash of their own voices, nevermind the storm.

Rhett yanks on the door handle. It peels open, rain spewing through the gap. "Ty, stop the damn truck!" 

"Rhett?" You yelp. Scrambling.  "Rhett, wait!" 

You can't stop him. 

He's jumping out of the truck before it's even stopped moving. Bricks and sheet metal hurl past. The door slams closed. You don't see where he went. Where is he? Where did he-where did he go? Why is the truck still moving—

"Stop the goddamn truck!" Screaming so loud that it doesn't even sound like you. 

The truck lurches. The seatbelt rips the air from your lungs. Taking it off is the last thing you should be doing, but it's already unclipped. Papers crunch as you scurry into Rhett's seat. Wind beats against the door. Does everything in its power to keep you from forcing it to open. You can't see a thing. Not even with the damn door halfway open.

"Where's Rhett?" 

You don't know which of them asked that. You don't care to figure that out. "If you two could stop fighting for two fucking seconds, then maybe you would know!" 

It's like someone flipped a switch. The wind and rain just...dies. There's a reason for that, a term and definition that Kate probably memorized in college, but you're not sticking around to hear it. Slipping out of the truck, you dart out into the mist. Fog already licks at your heels, so humid that it feels like you're wearing a second skin out here.

"Rhett?" Calling out. 

You don't see him. There's nothing but debris and disheveled produce stands, all the cracked open watermelons and runaway apples in the world, but no cowboy. But where did he... Turning around. Where did he get out of the truck? It was further back than this. Yeah. He must be further down the road. 

"Rhett?" You're trying again, toeing through the mess. 

There goes the rain again. Starting up so quickly that you wonder if Mother Nature accidentally pressed pause on her remote. Something carries over the rumbling thunder. Something that sounds like your name.

You hear him, but you don't see him. "Rhett?" 

"I'm over here." He's already walking toward you, must have seen you coming before you even realized where he was. The rain thickens, but you can see the rip in his shirt clear as day, blood pouring from his shoulder like the water falling from the heavens. 

"God, Rhett—don't do that!" It comes out a little too loud. A little too quick. "You can't just go hopping out moving vehicles—"

He throws his hands behind him, gesturing at something. "She needed help!" 

You hadn't seen the little old lady standing on the other side of the road until now, being helped back into the safety of an untouched house. You suppose that's who he's talking about, but... "And what if something happened to you?" 

"Nothin's gonna happen to me!" Thunder booms behind his words. Just as irritated as he is. 

Your hand flies out, gesturing to his bloody arm. "Clearly, it already did. Look at your shoulder, Rhett!" 

"God, why are you always so worried?" He spits. Doesn't hear a word you just said. 

"I don't know; maybe it's because we almost got sucked into a tornado three days ago?" You can feel your face getting hot. Teeth grit, jaw popping under the strain. "Maybe it's because I've seen storms kill people, Rhett!"

He stiffens. 

So do you. Glued in the middle of the street. Even the rain stabbing at your eyes can't make you blink. But the wind is one of those things that forces you to move—swaying sideways, shielding your gaze with an arm. A horn honks, headlights piercing through the silver veil. 

Getting back into the truck with him is the last thing you want to do. 

Gravel crunches beneath your feet. Shifting under your weight, seeming to drag you in like a thin layer of quicksand. Tiny little pebbles leap into the tops of your shoes, wriggling down through the gaps and working their way up under your foot. Walking barefoot would have been more comfortable. 

Ugh, but then you would have to worry about dodging the sharp metal hiding beneath the rocks, leftovers from experiments gone wrong, and backyard-tested explosives. 

The spare garage isn't much further up the driveway. Smaller, built to hold only one or two vehicles, depending on their size. There's no point in adding all of the extra space, not when the main garage is on the same property, fully decked out with its fancy tools, wifi, and air conditioning. 

Understandable, but you wish someone would have stopped to consider installing a light all the way out here. You can't see a damn thing this far out. Is there a bobcat standing between you and the building? Nobody knows!

There doesn't seem to be anything lurking in your path. You certainly don't feel anything brush past, even when you peel open the door and blindly feel along the inside wall, looking for the light switch. 

The grill of a truck glares back at you. Same old golden paint, still the same diamond-shaped chip beneath the left headlight. The dust is new, and yet, somehow, it's the same too. Exactly how it's always been.

And how it will stay if you can help it. 

It's a beautiful truck, really. Only one previous owner, still relatively new, decorated in gadgets that you've long since forgotten the specifics of. It's got everything. A roll cage. Bulletproof glass. Window cages. Augers hang on either side of the vehicle, in combination with the overhead arms, and those are only the things you remember installing.

There's a wire sticking out of the cables for the drills, has inexplicably wriggled its way out of the covering. That's what you get for choosing the cheapest company to haul this piece of junk all the way out here. You don't want to touch it, but...it's a simple fix. You've just got to slide this strip of metal up and—

Sparks scatter. A shock bolts through your fingers.

"You mother—mmh!" Yelping. Yanking your hand back. A twitch runs up your arm, the muscles in your hand shivering. 

And here you wonder why you quit messing with this goddamn truck. 

You peel the door open, blindly feeling around the console until you find the stupid tool you came all the way up here for. This old hunk of metal can sit here and rot for all you care. Why did you even try to mess with it? You know full well what will happen if you do more than open the door. 

Something always has to go wrong. 

You don't even feel your hand touch the light switch, but the room plunges into darkness all the same. To hell with—

"Am I interruptin' anything?" 

The door slams shut behind you, the knob jabbing into your spine. "Rhett?"

It's so dark out that you nearly miss the way his hands twist together, his head tilted toward the ground, not quite bold enough to look you in the eye. "I just...wanted to come and tell you I'm sorry," he pauses, peeking up at you through his lashes. You've never seen someone look more like a kicked puppy in your life. "I was actin' just like Tyler back there."

...huh. 

Can't say you were expecting that. 

"It's...uh..." What do you say? You can't say that it's okay. It's not okay. "Thank you?"

That seems to be enough for him. Shoulders falling, finally lifting his head to look at you properly. But then, his brows knit together. It's too dark to see where he's looking, but you can almost feel the heat of his gaze fixating on the garage behind you. "What're ya doin' out here?"

"Working on something?" This is what you get into focusing on creating an excuse and not rehearsing it beforehand. An amateur surrounded by Hollywood stars would be more convincing than you are.

"Top secret stuff, huh?" Is he buying it? He sounds like he is. "Somethin' broke on that gold truck of yours?"

...

Son of a bitch.

"How did you..." you don't...you don't know what to...say... "know about that?"

He jams his thumb over his shoulder, pointing blindly toward the heap of metal a few hundred feet away. "Was over in the scrap pile when ya brought it in a few weeks ago."

He's fucking with you.

He's got to be fucking with you.

"And you never said anything about it?" You feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a bullet train. Nowhere to run. Facing down your doom as it barrels toward you at a hundred miles an hour. 

"Figured you'd talk about it when y' wanted to," Rhett says it so matter of factly. Like this isn't a big deal. Like you haven't had Kate thinking that the truck has been delayed for the past month and a half.

It takes a moment to gather words on your tongue. It takes even longer to arrange them into a comprehensible sentence. "Does anybody else know?"

Rhett shrugs. "Not that 'm aware of."

You don't entirely know what it is that leads you to reach for the doorknob and twist it again. Nobody is forcing you to show him the truck. Hell, he's not even asking or acting like he wants to see it, but your body seems to be moving on its own accord. Maybe it simply can't handle another day of carrying around the secret, or maybe it's something else. Something that words aren't capable of describing. 

Rhett doesn't say a word. Quietly following you into the dark garage, winces when you flick on the overhead lights without warning. 

And then his eyelashes begin to flutter in that dumb, endearing sort of way. Intrigued. "What made ya wanna hide this?"

"Because if Kate finds out it's here, I'll have to work on it," you almost lean your hip against the front bumper. Almost.

Damn thing would probably blow up if you actually followed through with that impulse.

"I'm not followin'." Rhett runs his fingers across the hood, leaving behind little trails amongst the collection of dust. 

"Every time I touch this truck, it ends badly," now that you're saying it out loud, it sounds like you're trying to convince him that the thing is haunted. "I drove it here, and a headlight blew. Tried to fix that exposed wire on the driver's side and shocked the hell out of myself."

"What, two—"

"Time before that, the hydraulic arm snapped, and we turned into an EF3's playground toy." Not giving him any time to wiggle into the gaps of your argument. You're not touching it. End of story. 

He doesn't push it any further. Doesn't downplay what you're trying to tell him or try to sell you on the novelty of coincidences and misinterpretations. No, he just...hums and nods his head as if this is a story he hears all the time. 

A part of you hates that you ever expected anything less of him.

The cicadas take over. Singing their shrill, repetitive tune that somehow manages to get louder when you're inside. You don't know if it counts as silence when there are hundreds of bugs screaming the song of their people, like nature's rejected choir.

"Do y' want me to fix it?" Rhett's voice is like silk against the grating little pests lurking outside.

"Fix what?" You're lost.

"The headlight," he taps his knuckle against it, visibly disturbing the dust there, "and the wire that shocked ya." 

You're not entirely sure if you want to put the time and effort into this old piece of junk. There's a fairly large possibility that something internal has dry-rotted over the years and is bound to break at any moment, something that will cost a whole lot more than a cheap little headlight. But...

"Only if you want to," you don't mean for it to come out so miserable. Like you've had to strangle the words out of your own throat.

Rhett doesn't seem to notice it, his lips pulling up into a meager smile right before he moseys off to mess with the exposed wire. He taps his finger against the metal casing, following it up to where it ventures over the roof, then follows that until it guides him toward the driver's door. 

It's like he's got a blueprint of how you rigged this together, knows exactly where you've got the electric control box sitting, and which of the wires belong to the exposed one. The cover snaps back into place with the slightest bit of pressure. Easy as can be. No sparks, no shocks. 

The headlights are a bigger pain in the ass than they should be. You remember that all too well, the tediousness of removing the internal cover, several screws, and the grill, all to reach what should be an easily accessible headlight. 

"At the risk of soundin' dumb," Rhett's talking funny with that screw resting in the corner of his lip, "but you really built this thing?" 

"Once upon a time, yes." It doesn't even feel like you were the one who came up with all of this.

 The countless sleepless nights spent tweaking and redrawing plans. Building or scouring the ends of the earth for specific little parts. The perpetual stiffness in your neck from building your inventions into the truck. God, the grease stains that claimed so many of your t-shirts. 

The memories are all there in your head, and when Rhett tugs at the grill housing, your hands still twitch with a muscle memory you've yet to lose. He needs to tilt it up and towards himself. It's easier that way. But the memories don't feel like your own. Belonging to a past life, a glimpse of something that was never really meant for you. 

A stray thought draws to the forefront of your mind. "How's your shoulder?" 

"Hm?" He lifts his head, staring at you. Then, realizing what you said. "It's a'ight, jus' needed a couple stitches." 

You wonder what he defines as 'a couple'. But he doesn't push for any more history between you and the truck, so you don't push him for anything, either. 

There's a bunch of spare bulbs hiding in the main garage, and that really should be the end of it. Once the hood slams shut, there shouldn't be anything left to tinker with. The light works, the wire is no longer exposed, and everything is in order. You have absolutely zero reason to lay eyes on this truck again. 

To be fair, that's exactly what happens. 

For a day. 

"I thought they were s'pposed to quit arguin'?" 

You hear Rhett before you see him. Half-open eyes and messy hair stumbling down the unlit hallway, his arms full with his fuzzy brown blanket. Must have had the same idea that you did, seeking out the room furthest from Tyler's, hoping for another minute or two of sleep. 

You hate to tell him that there's no peace to be found in this damned house. 

"Bold of you to believe them," your attention darts back to the notebook resting in your lap, pen idly drawing across old lines, darkening them. Four in the morning is too early for creativity, but you can't fall back asleep, and you didn't bring anything to distract from the never-ending quarrel.

The couch cushion dips, Rhett's heavyweight settling in next to you. His cheek finds its way to your shoulder, landing there so naturally that you hardly even question it. "What're ya drawin'?"

"Same thing as before, just making it look a little less..." You don't know where you were going with that. Rhett isn't awake enough to catch it.

His gaze is so warm that you can feel it following your hand around the page, drinking in the careful strokes of the pen. 

It's almost enough to distract from Kate's muffled swearing, but nothing short of a speaker at full blast is going to drown them out. So the pen continues to dance across the paper, and the silence remains battered by two people who need to suck up their pride and kiss already. If not for the sake of their own mundane love lives, then for the sanity of those around them. 

"Have ya ever considered buildin' this idea?" Rhett reaches out to trace his finger around your crudely drawn wheel, the only spot he can touch without getting in your way.

"I started on it a long time ago," rattling it off without much thought. You don't have the capacity to consider what you're saying right now. "The sockets and connections are already built into the roof, but I could never get the hydraulic arms right." 

"I could help."

"Yeah?"

He tilts his head up to look at you, and you're just awake enough to realize that those aren't actually stars sparkling behind his eyes. But damn, does it sure look like tiny galaxies are lurking beneath the sea of blue. 

You don't know why you let him lean up and rub his nose against yours, but it must be the reason why you nuzzle him back. 

If there is one thing more awkward about sitting through Kate and Tyler's never-ending argument, it's having to survive their new form of fighting—the silent treatment. Each refusing to say a word when the other is in the room, resigning to comments filled with double meanings and glares out of the corner of their eyes.

You, quite frankly, might combust if you have to sit through another silent meal. If you wanted to be put in timeout, you would go back to elementary school.

"I see we had the same idea," you yawn, fighting to keep your eyes open as it takes over. One wrong step and your food is going to find itself in the gravel, and you're not looking to brave the wall of silence for a second time. 

"Great minds think alike," Rhett kicks his foot at you, perched up on the tailgate of his truck. "Unless your mind belongs t' two people I cannot name."

The initial plan was to wait until the weekend before you spent any time working on your truck, but it's hard to put it off when Tyler and his fleet of vehicles tear out of the driveway before noon, taking away damn near ever project Rhett had on the drawing board. You don't see Kate leave, but her car is missing from its usual spot, and you're in no mood to learn any more than that.

They'll get over it.

...once hell freezes over.

It's like you become caught up in a time loop. Every day, you wake up expecting to be put to work, to chase a storm, or to go on a supply run for weather equipment that you don't know the name of. Every day, you eat breakfast in the back of Rhett's truck and watch as every vehicle on the property flees the premises. Every day, you walk into that spare garage, roll up your sleeves, and begin tinkering with last night's project.

And Rhett just keeps coming around. Always the one to attach your creations to the truck, races you to pick up the heavier things around the shop, pokes at your sketches until you've explained every little thought and whim that went into why you created that particular part. 

Working with him is so much different than it was with Kate. She was never difficult to work with in the past; nothing big stands out in your memory, but you distinctly recall every frustrating moment she asked to change something that she didn't fully understand. Builds like these were nothing like what she was familiar with. She knew weather, not cars, and that was okay, but...

Fuck, it's like Rhett shares a brain with you. It's strange; he looks at what you're doing, and he just...understands it. Like you've finally found someone who understands a language that only you have spoken until now.

It's two weeks before the parts begin to fall into place, but once they do, it's all uphill from there. The hydraulic arms fit like a glove, and the batteries built beneath the seat offer more than enough electricity to operate them without sucking power from another operation. The drills spin as they're supposed to; they don't even warp when they sink into the rocky Arkansas soil for the first time.

Sunlight reveals that the cage protecting the windshield has rusted to hell. Rhett's sputtering about an improved design before you've even realized how bad it has gotten. A few of the tires need replacing, and if you don't let him fix those mismatching rims, he might just lose his mind.

"How d' you just let it look like that?" He's gotten heated so quickly, but that growing smile suggests he's only trying to bother you for the fun of it, "'n how did I miss this for so damn long?" 

"It doesn't affect the performance," you shrug, don't really recall when or how you wound up with one rim that doesn't match the others. Don't particularly care, either. 

"It's affectin' mine!" 

Your afternoon plans didn't originally include running between three shops in search of rims that match the aesthetics of the truck, but it's hard to say no when Rhett grabs you by the hand and guides you along like he does. 

And he...doesn't really let go. 

Maybe he does a few times, but he's loosely holding your hand in his while you walk from one store to another, and he's grabbing it to show you a set that he thinks is perfect for the truck's aesthetic. He's squeezing it when someone starts eyeing you up in the checkout lane. He's toying with your fingers at the stop light. And he reaches for it again at the end of the night when the rims are finally, finally on.

Now that you think about it, 'no dating business partners' almost definitely applies to you, too, but...

Oh, what the hell, why do you care? 

"Do you...want to try something?" Rhett's thumb swipes across your knuckles, idle little motions that seem to burn into your skin. 

You think you know what he's about to try and do, but... "Okay." 

He's gentle about it, guiding you forward toward the shimmering gold vehicle, sparkling in all of its post-bath glory. His other hand finds your waist, drawing you to stand in front of him, back kissing his warm chest. 

"What are we doing?" You know what he's doing. 

"Nothin' huge," he murmurs, voice low in your ear, so close that you can almost feel his lips brushing against the shell of it, "just...touchin' the door, a'ight?" 

His hand slips behind yours, grasping it from behind. Gently, he pushes it forward, so light that you can hardly feel his touch at all. Your stomach twists. That paint is too close.

Your arm stiffens. He doesn't push any further.

 It's too...well...if Rhett's not afraid of it, you suppose that...

It's cool beneath your touch, like ice, when you compare it to the burn of Rhett's palm. There's a scratch in the pain that you hadn't noticed up until this very moment, just deep enough to feel when the pad of your finger drifts across it. It feels...well, like a perfectly normal truck. You're not sure what else you were expecting. 

Your eyes dart to the window, peering at the silhouette of the steering wheel. 

Rhett's hand disappears from behind yours, leaves you cold and alone, up against this truck, but he makes no move to step away. Still here, even if you can't necessarily feel him. "That's not so bad, is it?"

"You're not gonna make me drive it next, are you?" You don't mean for it to come out sounding so annoyed, like a petulant child. 

His laugh echoes through the room and out the open door; doesn't seem to mind your tone at all. "Nah, we can wait on that." 

You don't touch it again until a few days later, your hip idly coming to rest against it during a conversation. And again, when Rhett's on the roof of the vehicle and needs you to climb up and hand him something. It doesn't shock you. The door doesn't magically slam shut on your fingers. It's...normal. Hell, it's at the very bottom of your list of inconveniences.

That's mostly because two names have taken over the rest of the page, but you digress. 

There's a moment when you catch yourself climbing into the driver's seat; you accidentally spilled a jar of bolts all over the floor, and the only way to fully clean it up is to get the truck out of the way. The key finds its way into the ignition without question, twisting so easily that you hardly realize what you're doing.

But then the engine rumbles to life, vibrating beneath your feet and echoing around the tiny garage like thunder, and ice forms in your joints. Stiff, freezing you into place like someone's pressed the pause button. 

Rhett tilts the broom handle toward you; those blue eyes are warm enough to melt you back into motion. Something about him keeps reining you in. Stops you before you can force yourself beyond your boundaries before you're ready. 

You're starting to love that about him. 

"I thought we were past this," you mutter, chin resting heavy against your knee. 

A midnight breeze swirls past you, bringing a chill that has you drawing your legs closer to your chest. At least the night is quiet, even the chirping cicadas have turned themselves down, nothing but a distant melody that you can hardly hear. Your ears catch the sound of a fork striking a plate, so sharp that it carries through the window and out into the parking lot. 

"'m sorry," Rhett's knees crack as he bends down to sit next to you, back coming to rest against the cool exterior of his truck. He's so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his arm, warm and cozy like the flames of a campfire. 

"You've got nothing to apologize for," it's not his fault. Nobody could have expected that bringing up the YouTube channel would end in...that. 

He hums. "I know."

Wind slams against the truck behind you, rocking it just enough for you to feel the motion against your back. Rhett's hair lifts. Dancing. Twisting along with it. Blowing into his face until he sputters and forces it behind his ear once more. If you had known you would be sitting outside, then you would have grabbed your coat before you came all the way out here.

But hindsight is twenty-twenty, and you've got nothing but this thin t-shirt and the warmth of your own body to get by on, hugging your legs even tighter. They've been in this position for so long that they've begun to go numb, but you prefer this to shivering.

"Cold?" Rhett leans over, nudging you with his elbow. You think he leaves a small fire behind, burning a little spot into your skin.

"Little bit," biting back the waver in your voice. 

"C'mere," and he's not really waiting for you to give him a yes or a no, already lifting his arm, beckoning you into his warm side. You shouldn't, but...

Oh, what the hell.

One little motion is all it takes to scoot under his arm, your head dropping to nestle against the expanse of his chest, and fuck, he's burning up. It's like snuggling into a big, cozy flame, one that envelops you before you can think twice about it. His head tilts, his chin coming to rest against your forehead, freshly shaven and a little bit prickly. 

You can hear his heartbeat right here. Deep little thump, thump, thumps, following an unnamed tune that you've never heard before. It seems the cicadas have drums now. Performing their little melodies for their barely-there audience, punctuated by the drone of a car crossing through the lot.

"What if I drive us to McDonalds?" Rhett's voice vibrates through your skull. Your head goes quiet. "Think there's a Taco Bell down the road, too."

Finding the ability to speak is...hard. "I'm not sure if I'm ready to move yet."

"That's a'ight," his lips press to your temple, "we can stay here, too." 

He doesn't say anything about what he just did. Neither do you, but it sticks in the back of your head like glue. You could convince yourself that it's just a ghost, one who has decided to follow you around and kiss the side of your head every time you think about him, the lingerings of a memory that refuses to leave. 

It's there when you lean up against the passenger side door, bent legs lazily slotting between Rhett's as you eat your greasy fast food. It bubbles to the surface when you run into each other in the living room and become sucked in by the Dr. Phil episode blasting from the neglected television. You can feel its presence when you spot him outside the garage while you and Kate are having coffee on the porch. 

You don't know if she realizes that you tune out of the conversation right then and there, mindlessly following the sight of his pale shoulders as he hoses something off. Muscles flex with the mundane effort, thick enough to cast a shadow. 

"I mean, can you believe he said that?" Kate's still going, the ice rattling in her cup as her hand moves about. "Yes, I'll admit I have feelings for him, but you know how that would affect the business!" 

"Who says that kind of thing?" You wonder what it would be like to dig your nails into those shoulders. What it would feel like for those jean-clad hips to slip between your parted—

"Exactly!" Kate hasn't the slightest clue what kind of daydream she just interrupted.

The memory of a kiss has zero reason to make itself known in the middle of an auto parts shop. When your hands are stained in indescribable grime that has no doubt managed to mar your face, the rattiest clothes you own hanging from your body with all the grace of a cardboard box. If you don't already look your worst, then you certainly feel your worst.

So why do you have the audacity to think about crossing the aisle and kissing him until you get kicked out? What provoked you to start thinking about this? You're supposed to be looking for that stupid...battery...damn which of these...did... 

"Which brand were you looking for?" The question is so prominent in your mind that it slips out of your mouth before you can realize it, already turning to look in his direction.

"The purple one," he rattles off, staring down at something in his palm. 

The...purple one? 

Huh, you'd thought it would be a lot more complicated than that. 

"I..." Rhett lifts his head, a lone curl casting across his cheek, wide blue eyes staring back at you. There's not a thought behind them. "I...forget the name." 

Not your truck, not your fight. If he wants the one with the purple label, then that's what you'll pull off the shelf—

Shit, you forgot how heavy these damn things are. Your elbow pops, shivering under the sudden weight. It's not too heavy; you were just...not ready to actually carry something heavy. If you'd remembered, then you would have lifted it differently.

Rhett's arm drifts past your chest, his hand curling around the plastic handle, taking it from you so easily that you hardly feel it leave your grasp. "I got it." 

You understand why you were so unprepared now. 

It's because he makes the thing look light as a feather, only needs one hand to hold it as you walk to the checkout together. He doesn't even need help to put it up on the counter, so nonchalant about it that he doesn't even pay attention to what he's doing.

An ancient little television buzzes in the top right corner, directly above the chair of the missing cashier. You don't think it's been touched since it was hung when this place was built, a mountain of dust resting atop its boxy shape, but it still plays. A blurry newsreel crosses the screen, a bald-headed man pointing at a live weather radar. 

The nameless man waves his hand across a patch of red and purple on the screen, rattling off words that take you a moment to process. "As this growing storm bears down on—"

"Y'all ready to check out?" The cashier is right in front of you all of a sudden. Rhett says something that you don't entirely catch. 

This is the storm Kate was muttering about earlier, up in the northwest corner of the state, projected to produce conditions ideal for one of her beloved little tornadoes. The tiny ones that do nothing but rock the trucks back and forth, maybe striking a few unlucky houses but not taking out entire towns.

Your lower belly twists. 

You're not entirely sure why it happens, but it does. Stomach churning back and forth like you're about to be sick, all over the sight of a television screen. Something in the room begins to ring, quiet but gradually growing louder, right in your ears, this piercing noise that you can't seem to shake. Your tongue is numb in your mouth, the air cold in your chest. 

The scene changes. A woman in a raincoat, holding a microphone to her lips as she gestures broadly at the road behind her. Cars rush past. A Prius, a minivan, two Volkswagen Beetles, a silver truck, a red truck, an ancient motorhome...

"There they are," Rhett mutters, just barely audible over the ringing. You and he are supposed to be out there with them. 

You think your hand is shaking. 

Again, the cameras change, jumping back to the same bald weather forecaster as he points to something you don't understand. But they've laid it out for people like you, all of Kate's unexplained terminology has been dumbed down into vague, simple terms that you recognize loud and clear.

"That storm is gonna be too much for their trucks to handle." It darts out of your mouth before you can think about what you're about to say, teeth chattering around the letters.

Rhett tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

"The storm trucks," your jaw shivers, muscles fighting to disobey your every command. "Are any of them rated for tornadoes stronger than an F2?"

"None of 'em are," he reaches to pull his card from the reader, then, pausing, "the only rig that can handle that sort of thing is..." 

You tear your gaze from the television, the reporter's voice droning on and on about something you don't entirely understand. Rhett's already looking back to you. Still frozen in place. You think you catch one of your own thoughts flickering behind his eyes. 

But you can't help yourself, looking back up toward the grainy screen. The weatherman is still talking, his warbled voice drowning in the squealing filling your ears. You think you catch the card reader beeping, yelling about a forgotten credit card. The storm wasn't this big when it crossed Kate's screen; you remember it fit perfectly between these two towns. The forecast entirely covers them now, extending out to the areas nearby.

Something warm curls around your hand.

The ringing stops. 

You don't know where the cashier has gone or when Rhett walked up next to you. But you can hear the shallow sound of your own breath, the sharp ins and outs that mismatch with the slow puff of Rhett's. 

It's still audible, even as the room changes. Ever so present when the tile floor morphs into smooth concrete, that familiar musty scent swirling around your head, assaulting your nose and drying your mouth out. Shimmering gold paint glares back at you. But your right hand is still warm.

"You've got this," the keys jingle as Rhett talks, awkwardly holding them out with his other hand. They're right there for you to take. You don't even have to reach. "I know y' do."

You're still not so sure about that. But the radio in the corner is blaring its muffled severe weather alert warnings, the old television screen is burned into your retinas, and this damn old truck isn't going anywhere, regardless of how hard you glare at it. 

Rhett's shoulder nudges yours, his hand squeezing a little tighter. "It's just a grumpy ol' truck."

The truck roars. Back tires squealing as your hands fly across the wheel. Cinching all twelve thousand pounds of machine to the left. The guy behind you blares his horn.

"Prick." Rhett snarls under his breath. His hand on the overhead handle tightens. Muscles and veins flex so harshly that you can see it in the corner of your eye. The front right tire dips off the pavement, the steering wheel almost ripping itself to the right. 

Where are they? Where are they? 

"I thought you were navigating!" You don't mean to yell. Too focused on jumping your foot between the brake and gas pedals, fighting against a speed limit that you know isn't being enforced right now. 

"I am!" Rhett's nail taps angrily at a screen. "Wherever they are 's got no fucking service."

The storm seems to be further to the east, right might be your best bet. But this road doesn't look like it goes on for at least another mile, and you can't take another dead end. Not with the rapidly darkening sky overhead. Looming. Waiting for the right moment to drop an ocean's worth of hail and rain upon you.

"Right!" Rhett yells. "Go right!" 

The tires scream. Foot tapping the breaks. The steering wheel spins. You're vaguely aware of your body tilting in the seat. Shoulder bumping into the glass. 

But you never teeter off the road. 

Even if you come close to it. 

"What made you decide that?" You feel as if you're still spinning, even as the road straightens out in front of you. 

His hand lifts, middle finger pointing toward something you don't have time to identify. "I remember them passin' them grain silos before the live stream cut off." 

You see them. A cluster of six, up in the distance, towering over the corn fields that have swallowed you whole. Maybe a mile or two up the road, give or take. Plenty of time for you to lean on the gas pedal again, the floorboard rumbling as the speedometer crawls back up to seventy. 

Everything still seems attached. No sensors are going off on the control panel crudely built into the center console. You know Rhett would have said something if one of them lit up, but you're looking at them anyway. Just in case one magically decides to light up with a catastrophic error in the next thirty seconds.

You've already got to tap the brakes again. Stupid, winding country roads forcing you to crawl back under fifty to avoid tipping over. It would be so much easier to cut through this patch of field that has already been harvested, barren, until spring rolls back around. Dodge the curves and jump right back onto the main stretch. Actually...

If Kate can accidentally drive this truck into a small river and come out fine, then a little offroading shouldn't hurt it in the slightest.

What's stopping you? 

"What the hell?!" Rhett squeals. "You coulda damaged the damn—!"

"Dallas has handled worse." There's no way you're doing this. There's no way you're really driving this rig. Never mind hauling it straight through someone's old cornfield. Bouncing up and down with every little bump in the soil. 

Rhett's head whips toward you. Still clinging to that oh-shit handle. "Dallas?"

...well.

He had to find out eventually.

All it takes is the slightest nudge to the left to jump back onto the road. And you never realized how quiet driving on the pavement is until now. Virtually silent as you reach for the turn signal, easing through a turn that you were definitely supposed to stop for. 

The cornfields break apart up ahead, diving down into the much shorter soybean crops, expanding as far as the eye can see. No police cars around to catch sight of you blowing through another all-way stop, straddling the thin expanse of pavement. 

There's a van parked on the side of the road, tucked away in a little patch of gravel. Lights and cameras flash. Yellow and white ponchos scurry back and forth. Dressed in t-shirts and shorts and flip-flops, not one of them prepared for more than mild rain. 

"There's no way they didn't come this way," Rhett's echoing the very thought that just crossed your mind.

The first drops of rain come in one thick sheet. Slamming against the windshield. Blurring sight of the rapidly deteriorating road. You've only just turned the windshield wipers on, but they're still not enough. Whirring back and forth as fast as they can possibly go.

Everything around you has gone white. You can't—shit, you can't see the road. "Can you see anything?"

Rhett leans forward, chin bumping the dashboard. The tablet in his lap beeps. Once. Twice. Three times. "Not a fuckin' thing." 

The console lights up. Purple in color. The wind gauge. 

"What does...?" Rhett doesn't finish that question. Doesn't really need to.

"The wind speeds are higher than a hundred-fifty miles an hour," your mouth is moving, but you don't recognize what you're saying. Don't have time to focus on that. "Tell me if the green one comes on."

Gravel abruptly appears under the tires. Panging against the sides of the truck like hail. 

Rhett reaches for something on the dash. "What does green mean?"

"That we should go in the opposite direction." And you don't want to remember if that light is meant to detect two hundred mile-an-hour winds or two hundred fifty. 

Fog melts from the windshield. You didn't recognize it was even there. Fading away into a clearer world. You can see the fields again, mere feet away from the vehicle, as you tear down a road too tiny for your tires to fit on. 

Clouds stir overhead, so dark that they're visible even through the rain. Twisting in a slow spiral, gradually descending to the earth below. But she's not here yet. She still needs a minute to gather her momentum before the clouds can kiss the ground. 

Red flashes up ahead. 

Your stomach drops.

"Take this left!" Rhett's order is your command. Shooting off onto an even smaller dirt path. A windmill shudders to your right, swaying back and forth. 

There they are.

Drills whir on either side of Tyler's truck. Digging deep into the earth. But there's nothing to help the aluminum trailer hitched to it, shivering violently under the wind. 

"You're sure they don't have this covered?" Rhett has to shout for you to hear him. Even then, you don't think you do. 

The back of your throat is sour. It's crawling into your eyes, clawing at your belly. Your hands shiver. The steering wheel briefly slips from your grasp. 

Something isn't right.

Your foot slips off the gas pedal. Sporadically tapping around, struggling to jump back on. Dallas's engine roars louder than the winds squealing past. 

"It's not working!" Tyler's voice arcs across the radio.

Hail crashes into the roof. Scattering across the windshield cage.

"The barrels aren't deploying!" Kate. 

The backend of their trailer jumps. The left auger slips through the soil. Tyler's truck twists a few feet. Was never meant to withstand this kind of wind. 

Dallas is slipping. Tires fail to cling to the ground as you rush forward. 

"Rhett—"

"I'm on it." He's already got his hand on the overhead button. Thumb hovering over the red light.

You're almost—you're almost. Just a few more yards is all you need. Almost. Tyler's door parallels with your passenger side. Little more. Little more—

The brake pedal spurs beneath your foot. Kicking back. Dallas lurches. Something internal shrieks. 

"Now!" 

Drills spin. Digging into already saturated ground. The engine roars impossibly louder, and the lights begin to flicker. All power concentrates over your head. Groaning to life, the hydraulic arms resting overhead begin to extend. Arking high into the air. Twisting outward. The tip of a drill bumps into the trailer, but it's still moving. Swinging over top of Tyler's rig, drills sinking into the ground on the other side. 

A blackened wind takes hold of the outside world. Dallas shudders. But the steel arms never let Tyler's truck out of their hug. You don't think they're slipping any further. Fuck. Fuck you couldn't tell even if they did. Why did you think this was a good idea? Why did you think this was a good idea? Why did Rhett let you do this? It's too loud to hear if they've blown away. And you can't see a single—

"Hey." 

Your shoulder is warm. And that sensation is crawling up the back of your neck, forcing your head to turn. Rhett's hands crawl up to your cheekbones, blocking out your surroundings. You're trying to look out the windshield, but he's not letting go. 

He's the only thing in existence. 

The console digs into your side as he pulls you toward him. His forehead kisses yours. Noses resting against each other. It's so dark, but the blue of his eyes is still as bright as the sky lurking above the clouds. The howling tornado softens into a hum. 

"We're okay," it's nothing but a whisper in the rampage, "we're okay." 

You hear him. There's no reason you should be able to. His mouth is moving. The words never greet your ears. Lost. Drowned out by a muffled sound that you're no longer capable of comprehending.

But you hear him. 

This mattress...is the lumpiest thing you have ever felt in your life. A bed made of bubbles would be more even than this is, digging into the curves in your spine and nudging awkwardly beneath your hips. But you can't bring yourself to move. Not when the tension is easing from your back and shoulders. Has been there for so long that it almost hurts to let it slip away.

The television is on, multicolored lights flickering across the screen, playing what you think is another newsreel, but you can't look at it. Not today. Not tomorrow. You're dying here in this cheap motel bed. The last thing you plan to hear is either the slow drone of the weatherman or the boom of thunder outside. 

Someone knocks at your door. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

"Who is it?" Using your voice requires far too much effort on your behalf.

A muffled sound works its way through the scratched wooden door. You don't know what he says, but you know who it is.

Your body tells you that getting up is impossible. Your heart already has you sitting up, sore feet falling onto the thin carpet without complaint. Something twitches in your back as you walk toward the door, wordlessly begging for the comforts of that shitty bed.

"Hey," you breathe.

Rhett's eyelashes flutter. "Hey."

Neither of you say anything further. It's as if all of your words have spilled out of your brain and carried off with the breeze, venturing off into the storm, never to be seen again. You think the same thing must happen to Rhett because he doesn't seem to have any words left, either. 

Wind twists through his hair, whirling past and into your hotel room. Its invisible hands find your backs, pressing until you fall together like a pair of dolls. Like two trucks who needed one last nudge to nosedive off the cliff. His arms curl around your waist, and your nose is buried into his shoulder, and he's so warm and real. 

"So Dallas, huh?" His breath tickles your ear, almost enough to make you shudder.

"You gotta admit, I had you convinced," talking into his shoulder, unbothered by how muffled it makes you sound.

"Sure y' did." It's his laughter that does it, sends a shiver racing down your weary spine. You think you're going to collapse into a million tiny pieces. "I would've never guessed that it was your fuckin' truck." 

There's a part of you that wonders how he never figured that out; you're pretty sure that you scribbled Dallas's name into the license plate of your sketch that he's looked at so many times. Or maybe he did and simply didn't make the connection that Dallas was a truck and not another man.

"Found out why those two losers were always arguin'," he makes no effort to draw away from you, his arms remaining comfortably looped around you.

"Really?" Perking up. Maybe you've got a little bit of energy left after all. "What was it?"

Rhett leans back a little bit, enough for you to see his face, but he's yet to let you out of his grasp. "Dallas."  

"Oh, so you both fell for it!" You giggle, and you're only vaguely aware of the door slamming shut on its own, cutting off the shrill embrace of the midnight air. 

"Hey, at least I didn't make snide remarks about 'em," but you can still see the lingering embarrassment coloring his cheeks, unusually rosy. He fell for it, hook, line, and sinker, but...

Your hand darts up, pushing a strand of hair behind his ear. "To be fair, you have always been the sweet one."

The corners of his lips quiver, gradually curving upward, but his eyes refuse to meet with yours. "Y' think so?" 

You know so, but those words don't dare to make their way out of your mouth. Even if they did, it would be no use because they fizzle away the moment the bridge of Rhett's nose bumps into yours. He's been eating those butterscotch candies again; you can taste them on his breath, sweet as can be.

You could kiss him if you wanted to. 

All it would take is the littlest nudge forward for your lips to collide. A clever gust of wind could even do it, forcing you to take that final step forward, throw yourselves into fate's palm, and see what she decides on the matter. You could spend the rest of your life doing just this, gazing into soft hues of blue, kissing him through every storm that will ever pass. Or, this could be the only night that you ever experience this. 

Thunder rumbles outside, the overhead light flickering with it in perfect synchrony. There's no stopping this one. No amount of magic powder can ease up the onslaught of rain and hail raging outside of your window, pelting everything in its sight. 

"'s probably my cue to get out before the rain picks up too much," he says, so suddenly that you're almost shocked to realize that this isn't a dream. 

He disappears so easily. Slipping away as easily as an afternoon daydream, those eyes daring to linger for a second longer before he turns to reach for the door. That big, bruised hand of his dwarfs the knob, gingerly wrapping around it like it'll break at any given moment.

Your lower belly coils. Sour. 

You should kiss him. 

And that might be how his name tumbles out of your mouth. That might explain where you get the nerve to grab a fistful of his t-shirt, yanking so hard that he stumbles. His gasp is the last thing you hear.

It's messy. Chapped lips collide, and noses crash. His chin bumps into yours too hard, and his chest hits you with the force of a freight train. But he exhales when you do. He tilts his head forward, and you think you're beginning to fall, plummeting off the cliff and into the nebula. 

Rhett draws back just as quickly. His eyelashes flutter. You release your grasp on his shirt. Maybe you shouldn't have—

The corners of his eyes curve with his smile. You blink, and he's leaning back in. 

You're not falling into the abyss alone.

Except, you literally might be falling because you're vaguely aware of the world spinning around you, seemingly weightless for a few fleeting milliseconds, before your back finds home in the lumpy mattress you paid fifty-something dollars to sleep on. 

"Shit—" Rhett blurts, jerking away as if burned. "'m sorry, I..."

You only realize you're moving when you see your hand coming to rest against his cheek, coarse and unshaven. It's been a few days since the last time it was trimmed, has had time to soften and lose that sand-papery texture. 

"I don't mind this," you confess. Lightning crackles outside, so bright that you can see the flash of it through the curtains. 

Rhett meets you in the middle. Your noses bump once more as teeth unexpectedly clash, such a disaster that it ought to make you embarrassed, but you don't have the capacity to think about that right now. Not when he's letting himself settle against you, his heavy body slipping between your parted legs, fitting against you like he was built just for you.

Kissing him is...kissing him is like running into a tornado head first. He's so strong, pressing you down into the bed, anchoring you here with his weight alone, and he's just...Fuck, he's everywhere. His hand is curling around your face, and his belt buckle is digging into your lower belly and he smells like the rain that has enveloped the outside world. 

He's traveling. Working his tiny, open-mouthed kisses across your cheek, the tip of his nose tickling the side of your neck as he finds his way to a spot beneath your ear. 

Your hips jerk up into his.

He gasps.

"Is this...can I...?" Breathy. Hesitant. Like he's lost the ability to think.

It must be contagious. All you can do is nod. Dumb. But it's enough. It's more than enough.

No dating business partners, but surely they'd make an exception for a pretty cowboy, right? Kissing him doesn't count. Tangling your fingers in his hair doesn't count. It doesn't count if they never find out. Whatever the repercussions may be, they're not enough to stop you. 

They would understand if they knew he tasted this sweet. If they knew that he hums when he tilts his head, leaning deeper into you, as if he hasn't gotten enough of you yet. His chapped lips tangle with yours so easily that you almost think you've danced to this tune before, falling into a routine that you haven't thought about in years.

The hand on your cheek disappears, fingertips idly tracing across your skin, down your neck, and then up to the corner of your eye, doing nothing but feel you. Something rumbles outside, in perfect tune with the slow roll of his hips, grinding down into you.

"Rhett," your head is spinning, idly grabbing at his biceps like that will somehow anchor you down. 

"I ain't goin' nowhere," uttered like a sacred promise.

But the need for oxygen strikes you at the same time. Reeling back. Gasping. Eyes peeling open for what must be the first time in hours. Days, even.

Oh, he is something. Swollen lips and pink cheeks, his unruly hair ruffled and stubbornly falling into his face, so long that the ends of it tickle your face. You can only tuck so much of it behind his ear before some of it escapes and falls forward again.

Your eyes meet.

He laughs. "I feel like a damn mess."

"I'm sure I don't look any better," your thumb wanders out, tracing across his bottom lip. His tongue darts out, timidly wetting the pad of your finger. It's the last push you need to lift your hand and tap him on the nose with it. 

Those eyes scrunch shut. Overreacting just a little bit.

Thunder slams into the ground with its heavy iron fist, shaking the motel and rattling you back into motion. Leaning back up to drown in him once more, almost sighing as he meets you, grants you the luxury of settling your head against the pillow. You think he only means to shift his position, but the bulge in his jeans grinds into you all the same, a little spark of heat bolting up your core.

"This is okay?" He whispers against your lips, those big forearms settling on either side of your head, seeking more leverage.

Your tongue is limp in your mouth, distracted by how the dim light catches on his bicep, illuminating a bulging vein there. Thick, winding down into his forearm and into his big, meaty palm. 

Rhett's nose finds your cheek, gently nudging. 

It takes a moment to recall his question. "More than okay." 

Rhett's chuckle is a fleeting thing. There one moment and dissolving the next, overtaken by your sudden movement, too impatient to wait any longer. But you miss. It's hard to find any leverage when you've got him between your legs. 

His hips roll down; you're convinced that you feel him twitch in his jeans. "That what yer after?" 

There's no reason why this should work the way that it does. These layers between you should be making this harder to feel, but you're nearly convinced that the clothes are a minor hallucination because they do nothing to stop the feeling of him slowly rutting against you. The coarse material of his jeans drags against your thighs, the tent in his jeans heavy against your core.

You can't help yourself. One of your hands are tangling in his hair, and the other is grabbing hold of his bicep, greedily squeezing the thick muscle that you've spent too much of your life staring at. It flexes in your grasp, shamelessly showing off. You'd call him out on it if not for—

"Your ass is vibrating," you can feel it against your knee, a steady buzz that wasn't there before. 

"Think it's Ty," he doesn't reach for his phone. Instead, his finger curls into the pearl snap buttons of his flannel, raking down and popping them open one by one. 

His pale chest is...distracting.

"Are you gonna answer?" You croak, already fixating on that bucking bull tattoo. Old. Faded. Some little thing he picked up right after he turned eighteen, a discount job that has already begun to wear down. You recall him saying that his momma almost kicked him out of the house for it. 

"Nah," the thin fabric falls from his body like a distant memory, landing somewhere on the floor. "Whatever it is can wait 'till mornin'." It's the tiniest motion, reaching into his pocket and tossing his phone off to the side, but the light catches on his chest just right, and...

"Rhett, this is..." You had a feeling it was worse than just a few stitches, but the image in your head wasn't this.

It's just below his collarbone. Healed at the top but opening up into a wide gash that is far too wide to be stitched closed, scabbed over, and surrounded in a sea of yellow and purple. You can see where the stitches once were, little red dots following the space that has already scarred.

"I know," he mutters, almost sounds ashamed. 

You don't know what makes you do it. But you lean up, lips delicately pressing to the thin line of pink skin. Just two slow pecks, steering clear of what you know is a sore wound.

"'re you kissin' me better?" His voice is right in your ear, his smile shifting the tone of his words. 

"S'ppose I am," there's an unexpected twang to your tone; you're starting to sound like him. 

Your foreheads meet. Softly thunking together, noses rubbing back and forth in their own unspoken dance. He squirms, pulling himself a little higher on the bed, and—

"Shit." He's hissing, dragging his hips against yours again—something about that angle, fuck. 

Rhett's the one who's taken charge of this, deliberately grinding himself into you like he can't think of doing anything else, but it's you who pushes things further. Craning your head up to find the prickly underside of his jaw, pressing your lips to the space beneath his ear. It's just so hard to stop yourself, lightly sucking on the skin there, enough to hear him gasp and leave a faint red patch in your wake.

One after another, gradually making your way down his neck, his heavy breaths enough to make you dizzy. Only stopping when you can no longer reach, forced to reel back before the ache in your neck begins to grow. 

Rhett picks up right where you left off, his tongue poking between his lips as he kisses down your neck, leaving behind little wet spots that seem to freeze over in the chilly bedroom air. His big hands dip beneath your shirt, callouses dragging against your sensitive skin. You know what he's about to ask, and you're already arching your back off the bed.

But he doesn't take it off. Stops right as he pushes the fabric up to your neck, skipping across it, lips finding your naked chest instead. "You'll get cold if I take it all the way off," he murmurs as if he can hear the question floating through your head. 

Without warning, his mouth finds your nipple. Delicately pulls it into his mouth like you'll shatter if he's too rough, his tongue swirling around the little bud in such a way that your head spins in tune with it. Your hands are in his hair, clinging to those curls resting at his nape, a little noise whistling out of your throat. 

He draws away, and—shit, it really is cold in here. 

Your hips jerk on their own accord. Impatient for something you weren't thinking about. 

"Hang on, hang on," Rhett's chuckling at your antics like this is a little game you've been playing for years on end. 

You're playing into it. Lifting your hips when his fingers curl beneath your waistband, shyly drawing your legs together when you realize that he's taken your underwear with your shorts, all in one go. It's easier to ignore the sudden over-exposed sensation when he reaches for his belt, pinching it open and squirming out of those too-tight jeans that have no right to cling to him like they do. 

He's here before you hear the clothes hit the floor. Slipping between your legs once more, his body so warm against your chilly skin. Melting away the metaphorical frost that has already begun to call you home.

Oh.

You didn't realize he was—fuck, that's so much better without clothes in your way. His cock slipping between your folds, the thick underside massaging against your swollen clit so easily. 

"Rhett..." aimlessly babbling, grasping at his biceps before you can think twice about it. 

You don't know if it's because you never gave it much thought or if it's because it's been a while, but he's so much bigger than you thought he'd be. Just the sight of his thick, weeping tip is enough to make you dizzy, the kind of size that almost makes you feel minuscule in comparison.

"So fuckin' wet already," you don't know when he got so close to your ear, a violent shiver quaking across your body as he whispers in that stupidly low voice of his. "were y' wantin' me that bad, sweetheart?" 

You can't respond. Not when he's using his own body weight to keep you pinned to the mattress as he ruts his big cock against your pussy, deliberately targeting your poor clit over and over. Little fireworks rattle up your spine and explode in your head with every motion, glittering behind your eyelids, staining your view of his face. 

"I...shit, Rhett..." speaking is like swimming through a tsunami, words there and gone in a matter of milliseconds, washed away to the back of your mind. "Rhett..." It's no use. You can't...you can't...

The bridge of his nose kisses yours, one of his stray brunette curls coming down to tickle your cheek. You fear the day he cuts his hair short. "Say it again." 

He's said...something, you know he did, but it's so—it's so hard to focus. Too distracted by the way precum obscenely spills out of his slit, mixing with your own wetness, sickening the glide of his length, his every motion punctuated by a quiet squelch that's too loud for this little hotel room. Kate can hear it from down the hall; you're sure of it. 

Hell, maybe she's too busy with Tyler. Maybe she'll throw that 'no dating business partners' rule to the wind and shut that loud-mouthed cowboy up once and for all.  

"...huh?" You think you were supposed to be figuring out what Rhett said. Still haven't done that. 

"Say my name again," he sounds a little breathier now, his sharp hips forcing your thighs to rise and fall with the motion of his body, clinging to him like he's the only stable thing in this big, blinding world. 

"Rhett." It slips out like you've been uttering it your whole life, tongue hand-crafted to do nothing else but form the shape of his name. Can't really stop yourself now that you've begun to say it. Mindlessly mumbling his name with every long thrust. "Rhett...Rhett!" 

Pressure unexpectedly blossoms. Air catches in your throat as his cock head dips into you. 

"Shit—!" Rhett's yelp dissolves into a muffled groan. "I didn't mean..."

But your legs are curling around him, your heels digging into the swell of his ass, urging him deeper. More. You want more of this. 

Oh, and he gives you exactly what you want. Softens and lets you draw him in, so overtaken by the sensation that he visibly fights to keep his eyes open. You weren't ready for this at all and you don't even care. It's hard to think about the ache when he's already dragging against a sensitive cluster of nerves, his cock so thick that it rubs against them without even trying.

"'s it feel good or 'm I hurtin' ya?" Rhett's voice is like gravel. So much lower than what you remember it being. 

"'s good," you're whining, absently squeezing at his biceps as he sinks further and further into you. There's just so much of him to take, slowly splitting your poor pussy wide open inch by fucking inch. 

Thunder booms outside, but it's not near as scary as the monster between your shivering thighs. Lightning flickers as you feel him bottom out, buried to the hilt, and you don't...you don't know if you have room left to even breathe. 

There's no real waiting. He can't, with you taking it upon yourself to dig your heels into the bed and impatiently rutting yourself against him. Shallow little ins and outs that very nearly punch the air out of your lungs.

"So fuckin' impatient," his chest settles against yours, anchoring you into the bed and forcing your squirming hips to hold still. "Needin' my cock that bad, baby?"

You've got just enough of your bearings left to glare at him. No, you were wanting him to buy you a snack out of the vending machine. What else could you want?

"Hey, I didn't say I wouldn't give it to ya," he chuckles like he can hear every little snarky thought that crosses your mind; maybe he's been reading your mind ever since the day you met. 

All of a sudden, he's moving, drawing those strong hips back, only to rock back into you, doing nothing but shallowly rut his cock into you. If it were anyone else, this wouldn't work, but fuck he's already got this figured out. Massaging against those little nerves you haven't touched in so, so long, such a simple thing that has you clenching around him. 

And you're helpless to do anything but cling to him and take it. Pinned to this shitty motel mattress as the storm rages on outside. 

"'s that better, hm?" He coos, nuzzling your noses together as if to soothe the pitchy noises he's gently punching out of you. "I can feel your little legs just a shakin'."

There's nothing you can say. Stunned into mindless sounds that you can't seem to stifle, all too aware of how he's beginning to pull out further, fucking you in long, heavy strokes that leave stars sparkling in your vision. 

Your hips involuntarily buck. The angle shifts. 

"Aha—!" You're crying out. Way too loud. The neighbor absolutely heard that.

But you can't think about that because Rhett's caught onto it, swiveling his hips. Misses on the first try. Drifts closer on the second—

Not a thing escapes your lips, but your back rises up off the bed, clenching around him as he strikes that spot again, and you're only vaguely aware of how you're getting wetter. Absolutely dripping around him, every little motion punctuated by a sickening squelch that you can't possibly ignore. 

"This poor lil pussy of yours," he's so talkative, purring those filthy words against your lips like they're gospel. "Gonna have ya limpin' all tomorrow."

You can't...you can't keep still. Wriggling helplessly, not sure if you're pushing up into him or trying to pull away; whatever it is, it's not working. That fat cock of his is still sinking into you at his own pace, balls lightly smacking into your ass, heavy and full and...

"Probably have to tell 'em a little lie or two," kissing him only briefly shuts him up. He's talking the moment you part ways. "'s not really acceptable to tell 'em the shop mechanic was—mmh between your pretty little legs all night long." 

Your hand finds its way up his arm. Crossing his shoulder blades. On a one-way track to tangle in his messy hair and pull. It's enough to yank his head back, that pretty, pale throat on full display as a warbled moan jumps out of him. 

Rhett's teeth sink into his bottom lip, muffling something you wish you could hear. "Talk to me, baby."

"Wanna...wanna hear you," that doesn't sound like your voice at all. If you couldn't feel it coming out of your own mouth, you'd think it was someone else entirely. "Please." For extra measure. 

You'll fuss about begging on another day. When you're not—oh, when you're not...

The tiniest noise stumbles out of Rhett's throat. Music to your fucking ears. You want more of it. 

It takes a moment. Gathering the strength to use the rest of your body. But then you do, and you're deliberately clenching around him, shivering thighs squeezing his pistoning hips as tight as you can, and he whines.

"Fuck, I...I..." Stumbling out of him. Aimless, but it's damn near enough to make you dizzy.

"Uhuh," is all you can utter. Dumb.

Lips collide. Crashing so clumsily that it's a wonder you don't knock a tooth out, nothing but open-mouthed entanglements and tongue. Calling this a kiss would disgrace the very word. Kisses are meant to be elegant. A beautiful sort of dance that no language will ever be able to properly describe. 

Soft little whimpers creep past his defenses. Faint at first, but it's so hard to stop once he starts crying into your mouth when you clench around him once more. You don't know if it's the sound itself or the delicious drag of his cock that sends the wave of heat roaring into your lower belly. Hell, maybe it's both. 

"Sound so fuckin' pretty." He's the one who says it, but you utter it in the back of your mind, too.

This room is so damn hot all of a sudden. A familiar pull has you fluttering around him, spasms that you feel just as much as he does. And he's driving directly into those little nerves so easily that your entire body is beginning to tingle with it, his weeping cock head striking them over and over and over.

Rhett shivers. A bead of sweat runs down his flushed face. "Fuck, I'm—"

"Close!" You blurt. Didn't mean to finish his sentence for him, but it's already out there, and oh, oh, oh.

His motions are quickening, unexpectedly thrown off of his rhythm, only for his hips to slam into you so hard it rocks the headboard. An unfamiliar heat blossoms, and you can feel his cock twitching inside of you and—Oh, he's cumming in you. 

That's all it takes. 

Your ears go numb as your back arches. Heart hamming in your chest. Crying out something that you never get to hear as you cum around him without warning. Little sparks firing across your nerves, and for the briefest moment, you think you've been swept up into a twister. Swirling 'round and 'round, nothing but Rhett's sweaty body to keep you from flying away entirely. 

And the storm whispers your name, barely audible over the hammer of your own heart. Echoing as the color drowns to black, warping until you can't no longer hear that, either. 

One of your eyes peeks open. 

Did you fall asleep? 

Because you feel like you fell asleep. Don't quite recall feeling so groggy, gravity weighing heavy on your eyelids, fighting against all odds to stay closed. Your tongue is almost stiff in your mouth, difficult to move. 

Rhett's hand has long since curled around your face, his thumb stroking the thin skin beneath your eye. Delicate. You don't think he's realized you're back yet, so distracted that the proof of it is evident in his face. Those deep blue irises flickering across your face, trailing across your forehead, your cheeks, your bitten lips, cracked and dry from the elements. 

You're far from looking your best. That you know for sure, but something about the way he looks at you...has you feeling like the prettiest thing this side of the country.

The corner of his lip rises the moment your eyes meet. "There ya are."

"I think I fell asleep," you croak. That still doesn't sound like your voice, but there's nowhere else it could be coming from. 

"'s only been a few minutes," pausing to press a kiss to your temple. That might be a faint hickey forming beneath his ear. "had me thinkin' I killed ya."

You can't help but giggle, an image emerging to the forefront of your mind. "Could you imagine having to explain to everyone that your dick killed me?"

His eyes roll as hard as they possibly can. You're almost disappointed that they don't get stuck. "'s not that big."

"You'd sing a very different tune if we could swap places," you mumble, reaching for his hand. So much bigger than yours, you can hardly even cover half of it. 

"Who says we can't?" He says it so...bluntly. 

...is he already implying that pegging is on the table?

You can't find your words. Neither can he. All too quiet as you stare back at each other. 

You crack at the same time. Sputtering into laughter like a pair of dumb kids, collapsing into perfect synchrony as you scramble out of the bed. Don't need to utter a word to Bare feet stumble across horrendously patterned carpet. His hand guiding you along on a one-way race to a too-small bathroom.

You're beginning to realize that cowboys and mechanics are just nerds with a very specific niche. 

There's no way that Rhett is still out there poking at Dallas, running his hands over the different components, pressing on buttons just to see what they'll do if anything at all. Even from the door, you can see the gears twisting and turning in his head, processing every little detail and scratch like it's a work of art he's never laid eyes on before.

Except he has laid eyes on Dallas before. More times than you can count, and that beat-up old thing is far from a work of art. At least it's still prettier than Tyler's rusty old rig over there in the back...

No, it's not there anymore. 

Did they leave already? 

"Where's thing one and thing two?" You hope he doesn't notice the way you waddle across the parking lot, an ache plaguing you with every step. It was cute, the idea of being sore from a night in bed with him, but hell, is the actual experience a lot less romantic to deal with. 

"They ditched us fer a date at some kind of storm chaser convention."

And here you thought Kate would at least give you the luxury of sticking around to tell you where she was going. Better yet, sending a text. 

"A date?" Tilting your head to the side, like that'll somehow make you hear better. 

Rhett presses another button. Every light in the truck turns on. "'s what it looked like on Ty's Instagram story."

You've already dug your phone out of your pocket, thumbs fumbling over each other as you search for your friends. Kate's account is the same as it was three days ago. No new posts since July of last year, but Tyler's...

There they are. Posing in front of the camera, spinning it around to unveil a line up of storm trucks. There has to be at least two dozen of them, sidled up next to each other in a perfect line with little white boxes resting on their hoods. A blurry sign sits behind them, forces you to replay the video and squint in order to read it. 

Voting opens  @ 4 PM.

"You have got to be kidding me," deadpan. Damn, not even an invite? After all that arguing? After yesterday? They wouldn't even have a truck to enter if it weren't for Dallas! 

"Hm?" Rhett blinks at you. If this were a cartoon, he'd have a question mark hovering over his head right now.

You turn the phone around, showing him the video he's already seen. "They entered a competition for the best storm rig in the state!" 

He bites the inside of his cheek, watching it again. After a moment, those big blue eyes flicker up to you. "...we could beat 'em." 

"You think so?" Is this what you're doing now? 

"I know so." Grinning.

They'll never let you hear the end of this. 

And that's exactly why you find yourself bouncing up to him, your hands bracing themselves on his chest as you lean in to steal a kiss from his waiting lips. Curling a fist in his t-shirt, don't even need to tug for him to fall into line, boots thumping along as you dart back into the room. Scrambling to collect your bags, tripping over him in your effort to shove your pajamas back into the suitcase. 

"Who's drivin'?" He giggles, leaning across you to get the room key. 

The answer is obvious. "I am!" 

Kate and Tyler don't realize you're there until it's too late. 

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event v2024

Alright let's start off with the primary points:

1 - You do NOT have to give to get.

2 - You do not have to get to give.

3 - Read everything, there's quite a few moving parts =D

Things You Can Do During This Event:

1 - Request a story from me (see the end of the post for the format!)

2 - You can give me a gift! (see "Gifting Quin" below!)

3 - Reblog this post to be entered into a raffle!

Details below the cut!

Raffle Prizes!

-:- 1,000 words of anything you want (within reason) - can be a one-shot, can be a demand for a specific title (make me work on that title you've been dying to read more of). Just has to be One Piece related.

-:- OC Cameo - I'll plunk your OC/self-insert into a story (that is not the Host Club AU ^^; )

-:- I'll draw something for you \o/ I'm not great, but hey, free art xD

Gifting Quin!

❤️ - Pin 5$ to my shirt - it's a local-ish birthday tradition.

❤️ - Share one of my stories and leave a comment \o/ You can do this whenever, but it really makes my day, so have at!

❤️ - Gift me a story, or some art 😳🥰

Ideas (please do NOT send me saucy stuff on anon or if you're under 18):

1 - Draw a scene from any of the stories you've liked! 2 - Draw Quill - by themself, or with you and/or your OC, or a One Piece character \o/ Quill can be a boy, girl, or whatever mix tickles your fancy. Have fun =D 3 - Draw what you see when you think of "Reader" for any given story. 4 - Re-write a scene for a story =O How would you tell me that scene? 5 - Write me a one-shot using the prompts below 😇 6 - Free form a ficlet, drabble, head canon, series of bullet points with ANY anime character and either a "Reader" or Quill =3 Spread your wings beyond One Piece (Wind Breaker, YYH, FMA, MHA, Habin hotel, etc - go wild 🥰)

Feel free to ask me ANYTHING if you're unsure of something

Birthday Bash Requests \o/

Finally, the part you've all been waiting for XD

*** Anon Requests Will be SFW only ***

-:- Give me some reader vibes as applicable (gender/height vibes) -:- Give me a blorbo (or blorbos) - One Piece only please ❤️ -:- Pick something from each of the lists below and then submit your ask! (any items not specified in the ask will be my choice 😇 cause it's my birthday celebration XD )

Pick 1 Vibe: SFW SFW dark SFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW Consensual NSFW dubcon/dark NSFW Yandere Blorbo NSFW noncon Writer's Choice (please include squicks if you pick dark or dub/non con options)

Pick 1 AU: Canon Universe Mafia AU Fantasy AU Cowboy AU Government Mandated Marriage AU Soul Mates AU Modern AU Hallmark AU Mythical Creatures AU Vampire AU Coffee Shop AU A/B/O AU Monster AU (you can say what kind of monster you prefer) BDSM AU Host Club AU Grandline Metro AU (Quicksand, A Light Touch, Heart of Gold, Thrice Prophesized are set in this AU) Writer's Choice (spin that wheel!)

Pick 1 Prompt: Angst / Bad End Aphrodisiac - sex pollen, drugged food, struck by needle, devil fruit Bath/Shower/hotspring Body writing (icing, ink, blood, etc.) Caught in the Act Contractually Obligated Creature x Human Date / First date Dungeon Erotically charged fight Experienced w/virgin Forced Proximity - box, flight, cell, bondage, get-a-long shirt Friend’s hot older sibling Fuck or die Lazy morning sex Long-Term Established Relationship Only One Bed Outside Pliant When Horny Role-play Roughed Up Size Difference (I write this a lot, but I do love it.) Soft/Comfort Sugar daddy/mama The hat rule They were… coworkers/neighbors/etc. Trapped in a Room Trying Again (exes getting back together) Unresolved sexual tension Wounded Writer's Choice

***Requests will be accepted from 6/1 - 7/10 - and posted from 6/1 - 7/31***

Gifts are accepted from 6/1 until whenever \o/ Don't feel pressured to get them in by 7/20 🥰

[fallenhunnyapple]

So the Poll said you guys were interested in the Human Priest!Adam AU which was a bit of a surprise honestly. But I'm very happy to talk about it~

I shared this art before for the AU. I gave a very basic description at the time, so let me get more detailed about it!

It hasn't gone unnoticed that Adam has gotten... Rather vice-ful in Heaven. One might even say sinful. And as such a public figure, that's no good. So they come up with a plan. Reincarnate Adam as a Human and let him live out a life and Prove that he's worthy of his place in Heaven. Of course, they'll take his memories and put him in a religious setting so he'll follow the proper path and prove himself.

He's sent to earth as a younger version of himself, old enough to take care of himself but still rather young, with the excuse of having been in an accident for why he has no memories (it removes the hassle of having to fabricate memories) and gets taken in by the church. He becomes the priest for this small town church. He's rather popular, his attitude, though not typical of a priest, being refreshing after their previous priest. He's made a bit uncomfortable about how adamantly homophobic some of his parish is as a closeted gay man, but he plays it off and over all he's doing well enough for himself at his church. Kinda lonely since its his Parish and not real companionship, he doesn't have any other friends or family. Not to mention he's actually been Good about not being sinful or acting on vices. Life is kinda hard.

Lucifer heard about this whole experiment. It doesn't really matter how, but since he knows, of course he needs to interfere. He... Hasn't actually gone to Earth before. He's sort of Shackled to Hell, its part of his punishment. But he finds some sort of Loop hole, using an Asmodean Crystal and some of his own cunning, he manages to make it there. Of course, he finds he still has his limits, he can't really interfere with most Humans, but Adam is a special case because while he is very much Human, he's still holy beyond any other human currently on Earth, and that gives him the chance to get close. His plan is honestly just to get him to Sin, enough to damn his soul so that Heaven would lose him when he died. He wasn't really planning on getting too Directly involved, but more nudging him in viceful and sinful directions.

And then Lucifer entered the church to meet him. Hallowed ground doesn't Actually affect him, he was an Angel once, he still has Angelic Powers and Abilities. The worst would be a vague tingling.

(take rp snippets. I'm Lucifer and Adam is @fallenguitarhero)

The AU as a whole, though it's definitely full of sexual tension and smut, because of course it is, it's also... Weirdly wholesome?

Adam didn't really have a Chance to make real friends or feel like anyone truly cared about him, he lost his 'childhood' and then was raised by the church and no one from his past ever tried to reenter his life. Aside from the setting though, he doesn't have the long hard life he lived in his memories, so he's basically like Eden Adam all over again, childish in a more playful way, not as bitter or vindictive, not as cruel. And Lucifer is there trying to gain his trust, and having this Adam act so much like the one he befriended back in the Garden, well. Lucifer sees him as sort of a friend too. And its the first time Adam's really felt companionship like that in this life. Sure, Lucifer is the Devil, but he acts like he cares more about him on a personal level than anyone else ever has.

Does that make him more susceptible to falling to Sin? Sure. But he doesn't find himself minding when the Devil makes him Feel Things, from romantic and sexual attraction to true fondness and friendship.

And for Lucifer's part, he's decided he no longer wants to tempt Adam to Sin just to fuck with Heaven. No, he wants Adam to join him in Hell because he was Adam To Join Him In Hell.

⚠️🔞 And since I mentioned the sexual tension and smut-

Essentially, as soon as Lucifer noticed that Adam was showing interest in him from their first meeting, he knew he had to have him Carnally. It wouldn't be enough to simply convince him to sin in other ways, no. He wanted to fuck him because there's no quicker way to Damnation than having sex with the Devil himself, right? Especially as a closeted gay priest. And Lucifer has the very specific goal in mind of getting Adam to let him fuck him in the confessional.

Lucifer doesn't start out pushing sex or anything. He wants to build trust with Adam first. But it's really not that hard to get under Adam's skin, he hardly has to do anything! Adam is a sexually frustrated man who has an inexplicable draw to the Devil and it doesn't take him long to start getting off to the very thought of him, of what Lucifer would do to him. And of course, Lucifer knows. And it only takes a little more poking and prodding and nudging before he can get Adam to agree to indulge in his fantasies and make them real!

And then there's just a fun scenario in my head about them being nasty in the confessional (like Lucifer wanted) and someone entering the other side and so Adam has to do his Job while Lucifer has him fully hilted and seated on his lap with a prehensile tentacle dick that's moving around on its own while Adam has to try Really Hard to not let himself make any suspicious sounds while taking confession-

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec where Harry is an angel as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🪽 there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(E, 218k, cupids) When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected.

🪽 of the divine (series) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 104k, guardian angel) "I'm your-" The man shifts his weight, hesitantly bringing his hands together in front of him. It's an endearingly nervous habit. "I'm your guardian angel."

🪽 You Give Me Wings by @snowy38

(E, 103k, demon Louis) In the other realm- where goody two shoes angels fluttered about all day like annoying butterflies- a lightening bolt could cause a lot of trouble.

🪽 Angels and Demons by twerkinlarry

(M, 70k, guardian angel) here is one rule never to be broken; do not interact with the other. Under no circumstance should an Angel ever interact with a Demon, nor a Demon with an Angel, and that’s all.

🪽 All Things Hidden by anewyorklovely / @coucoujedors

(E, 68k, fallen angel Louis) the Good Omens AU where Louis is a fallen angel who falls for an angel and has to save the world in the meantime.

🪽 beautiful sound beautiful noise by delsicle / @eeveedel

(M, 53k, guardian angel) Louis is a washed-up pop star who has spent nearly a year hiding away from the world. Harry is a guardian angel who is assigned to live with him for the summer. Neither of them quite get what they’re expecting.

🪽 All Out of Love by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(G, 32k, cupid Harry) While on a mission to match Liam and Zayn, the distraction comes in the shape of Louis Tomlinson – an overworked and underloved man trying way too hard to do everything himself.

🪽 angel x demon (series) by @lunarheslwt

(E, 18k, demon Louis) Louis, a demon, shows Harry, an angel, just how good it can feel to give in to temptation and sin.

🪽 Devil's in the Detail (series) by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(G/M, 13k, devil Louis) There's something strange going on in Heaven. Bored Angel Harry can't help but investigate.

🪽 A bit of happiness by hilarry13

(M, 11k, demon Louis) Harry is a new angel, given a task to help a troubled kid, Liam, but a certain little Demon keeps getting in the way.

🪽 it was a sweet heartbeat by hickeylou

(E, 10k, guardian angel) Louis is a neglected child and Harry's the angel he never prayed for.

🪽 I'm Looking Right At The Other Half Of Me by scribblewrite

(T, 4k, cupid) Harry's whole family are cupids; their job is to help people find their true loves and Harry's gotten pretty good at it. He just can't find his own soulmate.

🪽 Cupids & Love by InkedwithLove / @inked-withlove

(G, 4k, cupids) Harry and Louis were trying to help Zayn and Liam get together. They have been doing it for a long time, so it should be easy. Except, it was the first time Harry asked Louis for a kiss. 

🪽 Guardian Angel AU (series) by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou

(G, 3k, guardian angel) Louis has a passion for the supernatural and tends to drag his friends into his ghost and demon hunting adventures.

🪽 Remember Me (When I'm With You) by liberty_barnes / @liberty-barnes

(T, 1k, memory loss) the one where Louis was cast out and Harry just wants him to be happy

🪽 I am a sinner, you are a saint by orphan_account

(E, 1k, pwp) When the son of satan goes on a spontaneous trip to heaven, he most definitely doesn't expect it to end with him taking a sweet virgin angel to bed.

🪽 turn the lights off, i'm in love by StarryDay13 / @daydreaming-sunflower

(T, 585 words, cupid) Harry's job as a Cupid is to make humans fall in love with each other, but Louis Tomlinson is just too damn pretty to resist.

- Rare Pairs -

🪽 I Know my Heart (And it Will Never Change) by Diaryofanarcissisticgayman

(NR, 24k, Niall/Harry) Harry is a literal Cupid, and Niall doesn't believe in love.

🪽 This Seems So Wrong by orphan_account

(E, 4k, Zayn/Harry) Zayn is the demon prince from Hell, the first son of the Devil, Lucifer, the Dark Star himself. Harry is the angel sent from Heaven, to protect the city of London and his special human.

[enkas-illusion]

Double Trouble

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Rating: SFW

Genre/Theme: Established relationship; non-sorcery au

Content warning: fluff, suggestive, no smut, language.

Summary: Boyfriend!Satoru with a twin and they're exact copies of each other, down to their mannerism so they often switch places just to test how long it takes for you to figure out you're talking to the other one.

Author's Note: The one where he isn’t the only Honoured one. I hope you enjoy this one shot. Thank you for reading! 

~ Eren’s Birdie

Song Dedication: Say Yes by Loco, Punch

Satoru Gojo was everything you could've asked for in a partner. He was kind, funny, intelligent, sexy, and had better emotional maturity than most men despite being somewhat of a nihilist in his own way – perfect was the word to describe him.

The only problem was that he was a bit too much to handle at times, or dare one say, a bit *too many, – meaning his mother gave birth to him and thought ‘he's perfect!’ so she popped another xerox copy 2 minutes later.

And thus were born Satoru and Soichiro, the most identical twins in the history of twins. The two not only shared the same face but had gained quite some notoriety among friends and family for sharing the same brain cell as well. 

While you had no reason to complain about their flawless personalities, they'd taken a liking to mess with you each time they got together. One would think they'd go easy with the pranks if it's someone they love, right? Wrong! It meant the shit you had to endure was way worse than any other normal friend would have to.

On one such instance, Soichiro tagged along with Satoru after work and it wasn't until halfway through dinner that your instinct went off and you figured out it was the twin who was sitting next to you instead of your boyfriend as usual. Later that night, you'd warned Satoru about it, presenting a solid argument even he couldn't resist.

“You know I almost grabbed his thigh under the table tonight!”

“No, you didn't,” Satoru scoffed.

“Okay, maybe not. But it’s highly likely that I could've! Ummm… what if one day you return home and I greet you in some skimpy lingerie but instead of you, it’s your brother who sees me, all titties out???” You were grasping at straws really.

“Will you do that!?” His ears perked up.

“Not the point, Toru…”

“Hmm… okay fine, I won't let it get that far,” he assured you. 

“But you'll still continue to tease me?” You huffed and he nodded his head, smiling innocently. You rolled your eyes at him, complaining about how he was the ‘worst’ while he simply gave you a bear hug and a few kisses to make it up to you.

~~~

So, even after being with Satoru for more than a year, you still did not know how to distinguish between the two. The only people to do so in a split-second were his parents. You had once sat the twins down to compare their faces for any tiny details you might’ve missed but you came up short regardless. 

You could only tell the difference by instinct, after having a conversation with them – maybe you were more delusional than you'd like to admit but to you, Satoru's voice held a lot of love each time he called your name.

In an attempt to distinguish the two, you thought you'd successfully managed to get Satoru to dye his hair black with temporary colour last time you went to their family house, only to find out Soichiro had done the same and was waiting for you, waving his arm at you in the driveway with a victorious grin.

So when you don't find the twin greeting you like a devil inviting you to hell this time, you turn to your boyfriend who's undoing his seatbelt.

“Listen to me, Satoru,” you grab his collar to turn him to look at you as you speak in a serious tone, “Please don't fuck with me this time. One of these days, I might really embarrass myself due to your games.”

“I'm betting on it baby,” he grins as he gives you a quick peck before swiftly making his way out of the car to avoid your scolding. You were going to stay at his parents’ country house for a weekend and you could already tell it was going to be a long weekend.

You sigh as you grab your bag and he opens the door for you before pulling the bag out of your hand and holding his hand out for you. It's impossible to be annoyed at Satoru for long when he pulls shit like this.

When you enter the house, Satoru excuses himself to find his father and you make your way to the backyard garden where you guess his mother might be. You smile to yourself when your guess is right.

“How can I help?” You smile, making his mother turn to look at you. She gently puts the shovel down next to the plants she's depotting.

“Hello dear, you've arrived just in time… would you mind bringing the remaining pots? They’re near the window in the reading room,” she instructs and you nod as you make your way back inside.

You walk the long corridor before you reach your destination, making your way to the window where the pots were placed. You lift two in each hand, holding them with care, trying not to drop them or stain your t-shirt. 

“Need some help?” you hear a voice and turn around to see the other twin at the door. The only reason you can tell it's Soichiro is because he's wearing a grey t-shirt and black sweatpants as opposed to your boyfriend who was wearing a purple hoodie and coal grey pants. 

“Hey Sochi, could you pick the last one?” You motion your head in the direction of the last pot, “Gotta move it to the garden.”

He nods before picking up the pot and walking with you, back to the backyard garden. 

“Did you arrive before us? I didn't see your car in the driveway,” you make conversation along the way.

“My car's out for servicing. I arrived with the mothership yesterday when she was in town shopping,” he explains.

“Hmm…” you nod as you stop near the area where the soil has been rooted out of the ground, “here.” 

You motion to him to keep the pot down and he obeys as he leans down to place them there gently. You're busy looking around to find Mrs. Gojo when you hear him speak, “Anything else, princes–”

Your eyes widen as your head snaps back to look at him.

“SATORU!” you gasp at the nickname that accidentally slips out of your boyfriend's name, making you realise it's not his twin.

“Soichiro! Leave my poor girl alone,” the other blondie walks out wearing the exact same clothes. You look between the two as you stare in disbelief, not being able to tell who's who.

You're about to speak when you hear their mom's voice as she moves closer to you, pressing an arm gently around your shoulder, “Satoru… I'd expect you of all people to be nice to her,” shaking her head at the twin standing next to you.

You were right! The twin next to you is Satoru!

“No, it's okay! The best way to deal with them is to avoid both of them the entire weekend,” you give your boyfriend the fakest smile you can muster up as you walk hand in hand with his mother to fulfil your gardening duties.

As it's the only exact identical matching outfit the twins have, they don't mind wearing it all weekend. As the day progresses, you find yourself working your brain full time to notice any difference you can find, but the guys are relentless to the point where even their sleeves are rolled to the exact same length.

And of course, the whole day is spent the way you’d dreaded and almost predicted it’d be like. Later when you’re out on the porch having coffee and watching the sunset with your boyfriend, you notice Satoru has an insect bite on the side of his wrist.

“Toru?” you question, wanting to make sure you have the right twin next to you.

“Hmm?” he peels his eyes away from the pretty sunset to look at you. 

“Kiss me?” you ask softly.

“Wha– is this a test?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You know what, nevermind… I just felt like it cause this is the first time we’ve been alone all d–” your words are cut off by his lips capturing yours. You smile into the kiss as Satoru cups your face, caressing your cheek.

Satoru check completed! You make a mental note to observe his wrist for the mark each time you interact with the twins.

After dinner when everyone's lazing around in the living room and watching whatever reality tv show is playing in the background, you excuse yourself to go to the washroom. Roaming around, you end up in Satoru's old bedroom. It's endearing seeing how you can still find pieces of his current personality, likes, hobbies and interests in bits, plastered everywhere around his room.

You find yourself craving some alone time with your boyfriend all of a sudden so you pull your phone out to text him to come up to his room. You only have to wait a few minutes before you hear a knock on the door.

“It's open,” you say as you place the book that you were holding back on the shelf. With a big grin, you extend your arm out to him and he takes it.

“Hello, darling,” he says in a playful tone and your eyes briefly glance at his wrist. No mark. It's Soichiro. He pulls you into a hug and pats your head.

Fine. If your boyfriend still wants to mess with you even when you’re needy for him, he's gonna get his payback. You decide at that moment – this switcharoo bullshit stops today.

You smile innocently at Soichiro as you pull away, your hands travel up to his chest to push him back till he falls on the bed.

You hop on top of him to straddle him but are careful enough to not actually make any sort of inappropriate contact, hovering above without closing the gap between your bodies. You simply wanted to push him enough to get him uncomfortable and to confess.

You can see the nervousness on his face as he clears his throat to come up with an excuse to get out of this situation without making it awkward, “T-the door’s open, let me–”

“It’s just us Toru… I doubt anyone’s gonna bother coming up to find us anyway,” you purr as you lean your body forward, placing your palms on the sides of his head to support your weight. You start feeling anxious too, you need him to break soon or you’d have to abandon the act, so you persist and whisper in his ear, “You look so sexy, I’ve been wanting to feel you inside me all day, Satoru.”

You cringe internally at your own words. But in that moment, you can see his face get paler than it usually is and you want to laugh at how nervous he looks when he hits his limit at your lewd comments.

“Wait, I’m no–” Soichiro pushes you by the shoulders as he begins in panic, another voice interrupts, pushing the half-open door forcefully, “Baby, wait!”

You feel a large arm hook around your waist to pull you away. As you stumble to your feet, breaking free from his hold, you turn around to see an annoyed Satoru, knitting his eyebrows as he looks at you. He looks more annoyed at himself than at you.

“Satoru?” you question as you bring up a hand to his cheek.

“Yes, baby?” he asks in that loving tone you’re so used to as he wraps his arms around your waist tighter.

You smile as you caress his cheek, trying hard to hold in your laughter, “What… A… Dumbass!”

You burst out laughing as you break free from his embrace and he stares at you in disbelief. You look from him to Soichiro, who’s already stood up from the bed as you hold your stomach, hurting from laughing so much, “That should teach you both!”

“Well then, I’m gonna go watch tv with the only two sensible people in this house,” you wave the baffled twins goodbye and turn around to leave the room. The very next second, you’re taken by surprise when you feel a hand grab your wrist to keep you from moving.

You turn around to see that your boyfriend seems… mad at you?

“Sochi, do you mind? I wanna talk to her alone,” Satoru motions his brother to leave the room.

“Yikes, just keep it quiet,” the twin chuckles in embarrassment as he walks out hastily. You hear the door close behind you before footsteps recede down the hallway.

You look at Satoru, expecting him to speak up. But your boyfriend simply grabs both of your wrists before twisting them behind your back and closes the distance between your bodies.

“Waitttt… is this Toru or Sochi? It is impossible to tell!” your words are dry and sarcastic as you giggle at him.

“Baby, I don’t think you’re in a position to be laughing at me right now,” he towers over you, his grip on your waists tightening.

“But here we are! I told you not to mess with me,” you chuckle as you try to wriggle your wrists out of his grip.

“And I’ve warned you not to press my buttons… or do I need to remind you again?” he grunts as he flips you around, walking you to the bed till your knees hit the edge of the bed, making you stumble on the mattress with him behind you. He brings a hand to the back of your head to press your face down into the mattress and you take this opportunity to try to hold him. He tsks at your movement before moving away from your completely.

You flip your body around to lie on your back and see what’s going on, only to find him rummaging through his closet. When Satoru turns around to walk back towards the bed, you notice two ties in his hands. 

This isn’t how you’d expected your little prank to turn out but you definitely weren’t complaining. However, just as Satoru straddles you, grabbing your wrists, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

“What?” he groans into the speaker.

“Mum’s calling you both downstairs,” you hear Soichiro’s voice on the other end.

You press your lips together to keep yourself from laughing as Satoru groans once again before cutting the call with a ‘be right there’.

“I think god sent a guardian angel disguised as your mom for me,” you chuckle as you sit up, making your way out from under him.

“You’re lucky,” Satoru grabs your jaw, “but don’t get ahead of yourself, guardian angel can't save you past her bedtime.”

You poke your tongue out to tease him, breaking free and springing out of the bed, mumbling a ‘whatever’, walking out towards the living room. 

As you make your way back down the hall, you hear your boyfriend’s footsteps behind you. You smile to yourself as you begin to brew different ideas of riling him up further throughout the night.

~fin~

[aziraphales-library]

hello!! i love you all so much (platonic) and appreciate the work you do. do you have any recs where one/both of the ineffable husbands/wives is getting out of a relationship and goes to the other for comfort and maybe realizes they've been in love with them the whole time? thanks so much <333333

Here are some break-up friends-to-lovers fics for you...

I'm All Yours by FeralTuxedo (E)

Anthony J. Crowley knew he looked like a walking mid-life crisis. The tight jeans, half-up bun and sunglasses positively screamed ‘I left my wife for the babysitter and bought a vintage car just to feel alive again.’ In an adaptation of his life, he’d be played by Hugh Grant. He looked like a divorcee desperate for action, and it didn’t help that he was currently standing outside a nightclub surrounded by drunk twenty-year-olds. But Crowley wasn’t here for a good time tonight. He was on a rescue mission. Crowley has been rescuing his friend Aziraphale over and over again for a decade. Hopelessly in love, ready to jump at a moment’s notice when he was needed. When Aziraphale finally breaks up with his partner, Crowley is there to help him through what’s looking to be one hell of a mid-life crisis. Things could finally change. If he manages not to mess it up again. A human AU with a whole forest’s worth of pining squeezed into a single day.

…And They Were Roommates by Mimsynims (E)

“You know… I just remembered that Richard and I were going away for a few days next month.” Something devious came over him. “Richard paid for it, but the booking is in my name.” Crowley quickly caught on to what he was getting at. “Ooh, I see. That’s convenient.” He grinned. “For us." When Aziraphale's boyfriend Richard (Dick) breaks up with him, he and his roommate Crowley hijacks an intended couples' vacation and uses it for themselves. Lines that had started to blur even before their trip gets even more blurry - which perhaps isn't the best thing when both are hiding a crush on the other (and communication isn't their strong suit).

Ezra at the Wedding by tenandi (E)

Ezra's ex is moving on but he's determined to stop the wedding. With his handsome neighbor masquerading as his new love interest, will he win back his true love and rewrite the happy ending he deserves? - Crowley was leaning against the doorframe, obviously hungover and running on about two hours of sleep. A ripped t-shirt hung off one shoulder over a pair of boxers with devil ducks printed all over them. To top it all off, he was wearing black velvet slippers embroidered with his monogram. In any other instance, Ezra would have laughed but he was too busy being wrapped up in his anguish. “What do you want, Crowley?” Ezra fumed. “I am having a moment here!”

You are HoMe (Half of Me) by angelsnuffbox (T)

Aziraphale had gotten dumped, plain and simple. But that small detail wasn’t nearly as important as all the things that happened after he’d gotten dumped - such as coming to a few realisations about his best friend of sixteen years.

Hooped Earrings by OfEden (E)

After 29 years Azira comes out. While her family and ex boyfriend don't support her, her life long best friend is there by her side every step of the way.

Crawling Back To You by madrabbitwrites (NR)

College-age Aziraphale pushed his closest friend away and moved out of town with his married Literature professor in a panicked attempt at escaping his family’s rampant homophobia. Years later, devastated by a dreadful break-up, he’s returned to his small hometown to live with his brother and attempt to heal his broken heart (and broken life, if he were being honest with himself). What he didn’t count on was his old friend Crawley- now calling himself Crowley and looking dashing as ever- to have returned as well. Crawley’s wounds from their last argument are deep and Aziraphale may never be able to regain what they once had, but he’d certainly like to try. The two of them need to have an actual conversation, but that’s not really how these plots go, is it?

- Mod D

[ask-dices-cups]

Well...one of the writers writing a DD fake marriage fanfic was not on my bingo card for 2024, but when has anything ever been! (Thank you for tagging me @anawkwardgalnamedtarazan )

I'm lucky that my students are on Spring Break this week, because I reaallly wanted to work hard on this piece! I referenced a really intimate Swing Dance pic for the pose so I hope that came across nicely! Also, if I remember correctly I believe it said that KD was in a pink and white suit, instead of his regular purple, and I just HAD to draw that! ^^ I couldn't decide if The Devil would be really extra and wear a gigantic princess style dress, or if he'd be really extra and wear a more revealing dress. Either way, he was gonna be extra! I hope ya like it :)

-Vik

{First}

[Broken Contract AU Details and Rules]

[megamindsecretlair]

Aht aht aht. The vampire Tyrone said that the things he was gonna do to the reader was gonna make the devil jealous. I need details please, if you feel me!!!

A/N: Don't be quoting my fics back at me LOL. I'm gon take this lightly, but let's remember that I am not a smut machine. LOL

A Seduction at Midnight Chapter 3

Pairing: Vampire!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. Use of n-word. Reader is tied up with cuffs, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), PIV (unprotected), cursing, AU Tyrone, Toxic Tyrone. Dark fic. Dirty talk. One mention of spanking. Possession kink, pet names. Mentions of stalking and manipulation. blood, over stimulation, Mean-ish reader.

Summary: A chance meeting at a club introduced you to the enigmatic Tyrone. He was interesting in ways that you weren't expecting. After inviting you to a exclusive party at his place, Tyrone promises a night of pure carnal delights.

Word Count: 4,172k

Midnight Sin Masterlist

A/N: Okay, let's see what these crazy kids get up to! I guess, this is kind of OC? Is it OC if I invented a tiny backstory? I'm still getting the hang of fic writing. Since this taglist is getting so big, please give me a headcount of who still wants to be tagged for Vamp Tyrone or who only wants normal Tyrone. I don't tag ageless blogs. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Ageless blogs get blocked.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile

Mistakes were made. Your wrists were tied and suspended above you on a chain you did not see when you first walked in. You knelt on the bed in a growing puddle of your own arousal, knees spread wide. You felt how wet you were. It leaked out of you, trailing down your thighs. 

You shook nearly in time with the grandfather clock. Each new chime was another hour passed while Tyrone played with you. Perhaps, you didn’t really know what you were signing up for. 

Tears sprung from your eyes. You sniffled. It was too much sensation, too many nerves, too much pleasure. He had not stopped after your previous orgasms for the audience. No, he kept going. Pushing you past your limits. 

“Still with me?” You turned to the sound of his voice but couldn’t see him. He had taken off your mask ages ago and replaced it with a blindfold. It was snug against your face, damp with your tears. 

“Yes,” you whispered. 

Tyrone trailed a feather against your skin and it was like he set you on fire. You hissed and jerked away from him, crying. The chain clinked loudly in your ear.

“Aw, don’t try to get away,” Tyrone said and chuckled. He leaned in and kissed your cheek. Even that shit was sensitive. 

“P-please,” you whispered. 

“Please what? Say it where I can hear you,” he said. 

You leaned your head against your raised arms. They were starting to hurt, but the last time you asked him to lower the chain, he fingered you until you came two more times. You couldn’t possibly have another one to give. 

The feather tickled your neck and you twisted, falling forward a bit. Tyrone caught you and righted you. But his grip was too much. You cried out and Tyrone shushed you.

“Shh, shh, where we at baby?” He asked.

“Y-yellow,” you said, cursing yourself. You should just end this. But you did not want this evening to end. For once, your brain shut off and Tyrone handled everything. The sounds he elicited from you were sinful. You didn’t know you could beg and scream and cry as often as you did tonight.

“Are you sure? You’re so messy,” he said slowly. His fingers grazed your pussy and you desperately clenched, needing to be filled. You moaned moving your hips forward, yearning for him to end your torment. 

“Hmm, you’re so wet,” he purred in your ear. “I bet I would have to fight to stay inside, huh?” Tyrone licked your neck. 

“No, no,” you said. If he’d just give you the dick, you would lock your legs around him and never let go. You licked your lips, still feeling a bit rubbed raw after the last time you sucked his dick. 

Tyrone kissed down your neck, around your shoulders, towards your chest. He palmed your breasts, rubbing them slowly and running his thumbs across your nipples. Your whole body shivered. 

You still felt his hands everywhere. Your body tingled from everything he had done to you tonight. Like phantom hands still massaged you, molded you, broke you in half like a pretzel. 

His mouth replaced his thumb. He latched his mouth to your left nipple, swirling his tongue around it. 

“S-shit,” you sniffled. You didn’t have enough air in your lungs to yell. He dipped his fingers into your pussy, pumping two long fingers in and out of you. 

“Got another one for me?” He asked. His breath fanned across your wet nipple and you moaned. 

“N-no,” you moaned. Hell, this couldn’t be real. You didn’t want to wake up if it wasn’t. He was ruining you for any other man. What human could compete with this level of stamina? Tyrone had sounded calm and collected all night. Except for when he was fucking your mouth. He never sounded more gorgeous than the few little “fucks” that kept escaping him. 

He flicked his tongue lazily against your nipple. Once he got it into a tight nub, he moved on to the right nipple. He paid just as much attention to that one as he still pumped his fingers.

It was as if with every plunge, he was calling your orgasm to the surface. Dragging it from the depths of hell itself to make you cum. “Oh fuck, p-please,” you cried. 

“C’mon and give it to me. I knew you had another one for me. With yo sexy ass. You’ve done so good for me tonight,” he whispered against your nipple. You cried out, nothing but the wisps of air you managed to keep escaping you. 

Pleasure wrapped around you and held on for dear life. You shook and jerked. Feeling squeezed tight and not tight enough. Tiny earthquakes were set off inside of you, each with its own aftershock of pleasure. Tears trailed down your cheeks.

Tyrone lifted his head from your chest. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He took his fingers out of your pussy and spread your arousal around your lips. He shoved his fingers in, making you taste yourself again. He licked your tears away, from both cheeks, humming in pleasure.

“You’re gonna have to tell me when to stop. I can’t get enough of you,” he said. He kissed your cheek. He held his lips there in a sustained kiss and breathed you in. You knew he didn’t have to breathe, not really. He did it anyway, committing you to memory. The thought made your pussy throb. 

“I n-need…” You tried, but you couldn’t voice your thoughts. It had been too long since he entered you. Since he gave you what you wanted. What you truly wanted. You were trying to hold out but he was being incredibly stubborn about it.

Couldn’t vamps read minds? Weren’t they supposed to get super special powers to roll your mind, make you do things, or work some type of magic? You slunk down, wrenching your shoulders back too far, but you were close to passing out. 

“Tell me what you need,” Tyrone said. His voice was clear, deep, and intentionally seductive. He knew fuck well what he was doing. You supposed after centuries of sex, he should know what he was doing. But you were a mere mortal. He had to have some kind of mercy. 

“Please, fuck me,” you begged. 

Tyrone chuckled and cupped your face. He kissed you. His tongue rolled against yours and you moaned, sitting up straighter. Your thighs were starting to burn from this position. The metal clanked overhead. The grandfather clock tick, tick, ticked. You’d never be able to look at another clock the same way again. The mu’fucka ruined clocks for you too.

He slotted his lips against yours, languid as a fat cat on a summer’s day. He explored your mouth as if he were kissing you for the first time. His soft lips were their own sweet torture. 

“Hm, I need to taste you first. You made such a mess, I need to clean it up,” he said. You cried as he moved into position on his back. He pulled you closer, making you crawl on your knees. The chain rattled as it moved on the track, allowing you to push forward and sit on his face. You tried to stay on your knees, but he grabbed you by the thighs and pulled until you were seated.

He reminded you that he didn’t need to breathe as his tongue darted out to lick your pussy. You reared up but he pulled you back down. Your ass pushed against the heels of your feet. 

His grip turned bruising as he crushed you to his face and ate you out again, moaning at the taste of you. 

“So good,” you think he said. He sounded muffled. You bit your lip as your hips started to move of their own accord. Grinding down on his face. Oh, oh, yeah that felt so good. You moved your hips faster.

Tyrone stuck his tongue out and let you fuck yourself on it. You moaned as you rode him, taking your pleasure from him as if he were nothing but a toy. Nothing but a vibrator you were pleasuring yourself with. Your fingers tangled with the chains as you gripped them and rode his face harder. Fresh arousal leaked out of you, surely drowning him. 

“Right there, right there, rightthererightthererightthere,” you cried, your voice tinny.

You were caught between wanting to go faster and pushing him off altogether. You could not survive another orgasm. And yet, you were grinding on him anyway. Your pussy clenched and throbbed as your orgasm built, tightening your belly. At its peak, it erupted. 

You cried out as it swept through you. A volcano of pleasure that kept going and going, taking you to another plane of existence. 

You slumped against his face as he licked up everything you gushed out. You spasmed. The smell of sex was so thick in the air, you could probably cut it with a knife. “Such a good little girl,” he said against your thighs. He moved you easily as if you were as light as the feather he used earlier.

The praise made your spirit soar, even as your body was too tired. He got to his knees behind you. A moment later, the chains were starting to lower and you whimpered in relief. He kissed your neck and back and started to massage your shoulders. He whispered nasty things in your ear as his hands rubbed the dull, burning ache. 

“Better?” He asked.

“Unhuh,” you sighed.

“Where we at baby?” He asked.

You thought about it. If he teased you one more time, that was it, you were throwing in the towel. Stubbornly, you rallied the last remaining strength you had. “Yellow,” you said through clenched teeth. 

“Stubborn little thing, ain’t you?” He asked. 

“I was promised a night I’ll remember,” you said.

He chuckled and licked the shell of your ear. “Not enough for you? Complaining about my performance?” He asked.

“If I need to find someone else, let me know,” you said.

The sharp smack to your ass was unexpected and you gasped from the sheer force. The sting built in intensity until your ass was on fire.

“You can joke about a lot of things. That shit ain’t one of ‘em. Understand?” He asked.

Your head bobbled. 

“Use your words,” he said.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” you squeaked. 

Since your arms were now lowered, he pushed you forward. You leaned on your elbows and brought your ass up. You weren’t moving fast enough. Tyrone grabbed your hips and pulled you backwards. 

He slammed inside of you. You were so wet that he slid in easily. You cried out as he fucked you with something to prove. Okay, you hit a fucking nerve. 

Your wrists were still tied. You held them in front of you, to keep the chain from knocking into your face. He fucked into you with reckless abandon. His fingers dug into your hips, slamming you back on his dick. 

You moaned and cried and whimpered as he finally gave you what you wanted. He filled you up. His thick dick was perfect, digging into your guts exactly in the way you needed. 

“No one else gets to touch you,” he growled. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said.

“No one,” he said. “No one.” It became a chant. Every thrust pushed you forward. Your ass slapped against his thighs. His balls tapped your clit. 

Your nails scraped against the bedsheet as he rutted inside of you. He was animalistic. Grunting and groaning. In between chanting, he’d pepper in curses. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, squeeze that shit,” he moaned.

You pushed back against him, and he increased his thrusts. His moans turned you on. Hearing that deep voice moaning activated a different side of to you. You threw it back on him. He growled as he slammed back. Gasps and yips escaped you. You couldn’t take a full breath. He fucked the orgasm out of you, wringing a loud, keening yowl from you. 

Your body jerked and twisted as your orgasm steamrolled you. Reality shifted and changed. You peeked into the fifth dimension, feeling at once above your body and in it. You pictured how you looked. Suppliant, on your knees, getting dicked down in the most primal way possible. 

“Oh fuck, baby. So good,” you moaned. 

As you floated back down, Tyrone roared and released a fat load inside of you. The hot spurts filled you up. He shuddered as he pushed forward to the hilt, moaning deep and low in his throat. 

“So beautiful. So good,” he whispered. He leaned forward and kissed the base of your spine. You tensed, ready for his fangs to sink in. He rubbed one side against your ass and chuckled. “No more bites tonight, love,” he promised. 

You pouted and whined. He placed another kiss there and slipped out of you when he softened. He untied the blindfold. 

The sudden light seared your eyes and you blinked through new tears. You looked towards him, eyes blurry, and found him looking down at you with so much emotion. Such pride. Such admiration. You smiled lazily at him and yawned. You still shook from little tremors after that last orgasm. 

He took the cuffs off of you, rubbing and massaging circulation back into your wrists. Warmth spread through your body as you stretched out, laying down fully on the bed. Sleep tugged heavily at you. You wanted to stay up and talk to him, but he kissed your forehead and told you to sleep. So sleep you did.

Tyrone

You were going to be the true death of him. You looked ruined. Your perfect body was curled on the bed, ass in the air and scrumptious enough to bite into. He almost did earlier, but it was your first time giving blood. He didn’t want to suck you dry.

Fuck, his dick twitched thinking of how good you tasted, in all aspects. Your blood was ambrosia. Straight from the heavens itself. It took every, single ounce of willpower to keep from killing you. And you poor thing. You had no clue. 

He should feel horrible about it. You were so full of life. Interesting and unique. He loved listening to you talk and learning how your mind worked. He would hate it if you were snuffed from this life.

But you had no clue how fucking delicious your blood was. And then when he tasted that sweet honey between your thighs, it was enough to drive him insane with lust. Tyrone could not remember the last person who drove him so crazy. He’d had his share of lovers over the centuries. When his loneliness was so loud, he’d do anything to steal the warmth from his partner. He’d agree to anything, kill anybody, if it meant that someone would wrap their hands around him in love rather than fear.

He looked at you, staring at your rolls and curves. He could keep going. You made him want to keep going. He wanted to mesh your bodies together and never leave your embrace. He wanted to twist you any which way he could. 

He needed a walk. Usually, he would kick out whoever he got done fucking. But you were different. He wanted to mold his body to yours and snuggle in close. But if he snuggled up with you right now, you wouldn’t ever be free to walk this earth again. This…possessiveness was starting to worry him. Slick Charles said as much as Tyrone spent nearly every night watching you in your house. 

He left the room, towards the en suite bathroom and warmed up a washcloth for you. He cleaned you up, gentle, but you were deeply asleep. He heard the thump of your heart as you slept. You made little whimpering noises.

He was jealous of your dreams. For a while, you were lost to him. He wanted more of it. More of you. You were so cute and trusting, sleeping next to a monster. So, he threw on his briefs and left the room altogether. He needed to be away, where your scent wasn’t wreaking havoc on his senses. 

Outside the room, the carnal sounds of fucking slammed into him. The smell of sex was potent. He walked down the hall where some people were fucking against the wall. He passed by people in various states of dress, masks on, dicks and pussies out. Some women were getting fucked, some men were getting pegged.

When he was younger, all of this still would’ve excited him. He still enjoyed watching sex, but his dick only stirred for you. He gritted his teeth as he passed through to one of the playrooms.

Four people were intertwined in a complicated dance on the large bed. Tyrone stopped for a moment, watching the foursome as everyone was getting off on someone else. Sex was fascinating to him. The way people contorted themselves into shapes just to get off. To reach that ultimate goal. Tyrone watched their faces. He watched how even though they selfishly sought their own pleasure, they were just as focused on their partner. On giving and taking. 

Tyrone moved on, passing by the playrooms and ensuring that everyone minded the rules. At the end of the hall, a lone figure leaned against the wall. The figure was fully dressed in slacks and a shirt one size too big. 

“Who are you?” Tyrone asked. He stopped walking forward. The figure was half in shadow. The figure turned his head, head dipping into one of the hall lights.

“Don’t you recognize your big brother?” 

Tyrone sighed and rubbed his head. “The fuck are you doing here, Fontaine?” 

Fontaine chuckled, his gold grills glinting in the light. Moans crescendoed all around but Tyrone tuned it out. Like turning down the sound on a stereo, the moans faded to the background. 

Rage replaced his earlier calm at seeing Fontaine. Smug mu’fucka. Fontaine removed himself from the wall, stalking towards Tyrone. He put his hands in his pockets and looked Tyrone up and down.

“Shit, Tyrone. You finally fuck that stick out ya ass?” Fontaine chuckled. “Who is she? She still around?” Fontaine looked behind Tyrone as if the person would be coming up behind them. Tyrone clenched his fists but kept a mask of amused indifference. 

“What are you doing here, ‘Taine?” 

Fontaine’s smile slipped. He shrugged. “Can’t just be because I miss you?” 

Tyrone reared back as if Fontaine had slapped him. It was uncanny, looking into the eyes of someone that fuckin’ looked like you. There was a disconnect between the mirror and this mirror-version of Tyrone. It was him but it wasn’t him. 

“Fuck no. What do you want?” On the inside, Tyrone was worried. He still didn’t know what you were or why your blood smelled so divine. It was a big risk bringing you here tonight, knowing that your blood might draw the others. But nothing happened when that first drop touched air…still, he wasn’t going to gamble that Fontaine’s keen sense of smell would find you. 

Tyrone barely held it together around you. Fontaine was a ripper, who enjoyed his food in all manners of ways. It would be nothing to snap your neck and drain you dry. 

Fontaine laughed and nodded. “I got some business here,” he said. 

“What business?” Tyrone asked.

“Mines, nigga,” Fontaine said. He laughed as he pushed past Tyrone, looking in and out of the playrooms. He stopped at one door and leaned on it, watching the couple as the man was getting spanked. 

“Father banished you–” 

“Father’s the one that called me back here,” Fontaine interrupted. He turned towards Tyrone and lifted an eyebrow. “Old man didn’t tell you?” 

“Nigga don’t say shit but bark mu’fuckin’ orders.” Tyrone walked away from the playrooms. He went upstairs, heading towards his office. Here, the place felt slightly more like him. This wasn’t his main residence. He didn’t want to sleep in the same house that his people did depraved things. 

Fontaine’s steps were quiet, but with his hearing, he knew Fontaine trailed behind him. The halls were painted light gray, soft wood underneath, and random sculptures and pieces of art along the end tables or on the walls. Paintings of himself were spread along the walls. He hated the idea. But Slick Charles told him that he needed to add some showmanship for the parties. Whatever.

He turned on the light to his office and walked inside. Fontaine slipped in behind him and closed the door. Tyrone flopped into his chair and rolled his neck. He just wanted to spend the night in between your legs. He knew the night was going too perfect. 

His office was like his others, painted in his favorite color, gray, with complimentary furniture. He had a few personal items there like his watch or keys, or sunglasses. Fontaine flopped into the chair opposite the large desk. He sneered at the decorative plants and art. 

“Corny ass mu’fucka,” Fontaine whispered.

“Why are you really here?” 

Fontaine shrugged. “Pops gettin’ paranoid or some shit. Or he want something. I’ve been getting word that he’s been lookin’ into my business overseas. I’m just here to see why he broke the agreement,” Fontaine explained. 

“Lookin’ into it how?” Tyrone asked.

Fontaine shrugged again. His gaze moved around the room. Tyrone watched him, looking at all the ways he changed in the hundred or so years since he last saw him. 

Fontaine had a scruffy beard now, with kinked hair sticking up every which way. The grill was obviously new. The canines were elongated, perfectly hiding his real fangs. It was clever. He could move around more freely, not afraid to laugh or speak. 

“Ion know yet. All I know is that he broke his side, so the terms is null. I’m taking myself off punishment, baby brother,” he said.

Tyrone chuckled. “That’s not the way that shit work,” he said. 

“Does now. Look. I came here as a muthafuckin’ courtesy. No disrespect shit. I’m not going to make noise. I just want to see what Pops knows and then I’ll be gone,” Fontaine said.

Tyrone looked at him over the desk. There was so much history there. History of running around together, chasing girls in skirts, and fuckin’ them ‘till the morning came. Of all the arguments and yelling at each other. Fontaine moving to Europe was the best decision ever. They needed that continent in between them. 

“How long?” 

“Ion know,” Fontaine said.

“Not good enough,” Tyrone said.

“Make it good enough.”

Tyrone sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Dammit, ‘Taine. Don’t start that shit,” he said. 

Fontaine suddenly sniffed and Tyrone whipped his head towards him. Fontaine’s head was tilted chasing the scent. Could he smell you on Tyrone? 

“How long do you need?” Tyrone asked, trying to distract Fontaine. But Fontaine only took another deep breath.

“Damn, that almost smells like…Versailles,” he said. 

The name triggered a distant memory, of remembering when Tyrone and Fontaine had walked the halls of the famous palace, had walked by a proper lady, and she had smelled so good, it made Tyrone and Fontaine whirl around. 

Fontaine chuckled. “Must be all this pussy in the air. Anyway, I’m fo’ real. I just want to know how much he knows. I’ll be gone before you know it.” 

Tyrone nodded. “Fine. Don’t start anything while you here. Get in, get out,” Tyrone said.

Fontaine smirked and shook his head. “Shit, baby brother. You really got something here,” Fontaine said.

“You don’t have to keep up the good older brother routine. I already said you could stay,” Tyrone said. 

Fontaine laughed. “Man, whoever you fucked, go fuck ‘em again. Loosen up. All that frowning gon’ make you old,” Fontaine chuckled on his way out of the office. 

Tyrone watched him go. He strained his hearing for Fontaine’s soft steps and followed the sound of his shoes out of the house. He hadn’t smelled you. Good. Tyrone left his office and headed back to you. 

He couldn’t risk Fontaine knowing about you. He didn’t know what his brother would do around you. Especially if he was thinking of Versailles. Whatever that was supposed to mean. The centuries tended to blur after being alive so long. It was just fleeting from one activity to the next. 

He’d have to look into it later. For now, he wanted to forget that Fontaine was here. He wanted to forget that there were others in the house. He wanted to wrap himself in your warmth and addicting scent and sleep the morning away.

You were still fast asleep. Tyrone lowered the lights and climbed into bed. He snuggled you from behind. You let out a soft sound. He wrapped his hand around your tummy and felt the approaching morning like a heavy blanket. He slipped off to sleep with your intoxicating scent tickling his nose.

&&&

Masterlist | Chapter 3