#can mill move and give me back my seat please??

[mahealinskis]

JunMill playing the paper kiss game (and being really close friends)

[hederasgarden]

On the Horizon (2/?)

Summary: You've been pining over your coworker for a while now. He might not have realized but someone has.  Pairing:Tyler Owens x F!Reader (with minor Scott x F!Reader) Word Count: 4.3K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Angst and asshole!Scott who brings a side of gaslighting. Future chapters will be smutty. Not all themes are tagged.   A/N: Thanks to @writercole for the summary and @ryebecca @mermaidxatxheart @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for their beta help.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my www inbox. That always makes my day.

Part 1 ♡ Masterlist

The sound of the rickety old air conditioning unit sputtering to life jolts you awake. You roll over with a groan, throwing an arm over your face to shield yourself from the sunlight trickling in through a gap in the curtains. It takes you a long moment to realize the other side of the bed is empty and cold. When you do, the remnants of sleep scatter, a wave of awareness washing over you.

You tuck your chin against your chest and pull the scratchy sheets closer to your naked body. The old clock on the bedside table stares back at you as you struggle to ignore the hollow ache in your stomach. You didn’t expect Scott to stay the night. Both of you knew it wouldn’t be smart, though it still stings, just like it did the first time. But that was Scott, you remind yourself, always thinking two steps ahead, anticipating and reacting. Whatever you two had needed to remain a secret. As he reminded you last night, when it came to sleeping with a coworker, people were always harsher on the woman. It was better this way. Wasn’t it?

You close your eyes and draw in a pained breath, catching the faint, musky scent of Scott’s cologne that still lingers in the sheets. The smell brings a rush of memories from the night before, vivid and overwhelming, like a sense memory that refuses to fade. The way his long, thick fingers curled inside you. The sound of his shuddering breath when he came. 

Your phone buzzes, and you jerk upright, expecting or perhaps hoping to see Scott’s name. Instead, it's Andy letting you know he’s grabbing coffee for everyone. You thank him and, without giving yourself a chance to second-guess yourself, shoot off a message to Scott. You watch as the status changes from “Delivered,” to “Read at 7:22 AM.” You wait for a reply but minutes tick by without an answer.

Eventually, you force yourself out of bed and prepare for the day, but as you move through your routine, your mind keeps drifting back to the unanswered message. It’s after 8 a.m. by the time you leave the hotel room with your duffle bag in hand. Outside, the parking lot is full of other storm chasers who mill around quietly, their mood more subdued than last night.

You find Scott with a clipboard in hand, talking with Javi. He spares you a glance but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge you. It’s not personal, you remind yourself, feeling better when you remember you're both assigned to Scarecrow. You’ll have a chance to talk with him then without having to worry about anyone overhearing you. 

On the way to the car, you catch up with Andy, looking dubiously at the greyish cup of gas station coffee he hands you. It's been weeks since you had a decent cup. You're half-busy lamenting the absence of Starbucks when a sharp whistle catches your attention. It's Tyler, and he’s giving you a curious look, raising his chin in Scott's direction. 

You know what he's asking. You should give him a thumbs-up so he knows the ploy worked, but before you can a sharp, unexpected wave of shame crawls up your throat. Tyler wrinkles his brow, hands on his hips. When he takes a step forward you turn away without answering him. You head for your assigned car, only to stop abruptly when you see Peter, one of the meteorologists, sitting in the passenger seat with the door ajar.

“Morning. I think you might be in the wrong car,” you say. 

“Hey,” Peter greets, looking up from his computer. “Scott changed the rotation. You’re riding with Javi. Didn’t he tell you?”

“Oh.” You stare at your coworker unblinking, for a long moment. It was probably an oversight. Scott was so busy. "O-of course he did, I must have forgotten," you lie, forcing yourself to chuckle. “Lack of sleep,” you explain.

“Tell me about it. These motel beds are killing my back.”

“For sure,” you agree, offering him a wave and promising to catch up with him later. The second you turn away, your eyes sting and you brush at them angrily. Why are you crying? It’s not even a big deal. You liked riding with Javi, everyone did even though he was the boss. 

You head in the opposite direction of the others, unsure of where you’re going. All you know is that you need to move to dislodge the pressure in your chest. It’s only when you reach the edge of the motel’s property, standing at the boundary of the farm next door, that you finally stop. You drop your bag, sending up a small cloud of dust, and press a hand to your mouth as you stare across the field of knee-high corn. This was all so stupid, a childish overreaction. There’d be time to talk with Scott tonight again. You were getting upset over nothing.

You have only a few precious seconds to collect yourself before you hear footsteps approaching. Quickly, you scrub your hands over your eyes, trying to dry the tears as best as you can. It doesn’t matter who it is; you just don’t want to be seen like this.

“You know, sweetheart,” Tyler begins, his southern drawl softening the endearment, “I’m not used to chasing after a woman.” 

He stops a few feet away, his gaze fixed steadily on the horizon. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, his cowboy hat shading his expression from view. He's not exactly who you want to talk to at the moment but it was better than someone from your team. 

“Well," you start, clearing your throat to dislodge the unwanted emotion from your voice. "You’re welcome for the unique experience, I guess."

He turns to face you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. You’ve amused him.  “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” he says, clearly waiting for you to elaborate.

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Scott spent the night and that was what you wanted so why didn’t it feel that way? 

“Ah, he shit the bed, huh?” Tyler asks, understandingly. Your nose wrinkles at the euphemism and this time he laughs. “Well, we can always try again tonight.”

You realize then that Tyler thinks nothing happened between you and Scott last night. You should set him straight, but instead, you find yourself saying, “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Come on now. We both know everyone here is heading up to Bartlesville. The conditions look promising.” 

“What do you have planned to help me?”

Tyler tilts his cowboy hat up with a finger, stepping close enough that you find yourself beneath its brim. You look up at him and notice, for the first time, the dark stubble along his jaw and the dimples that appear when he smiles. You’ve always known he was handsome — everyone knew it, mostly because that was all Peter talked about after enough beers. But right now, it feels like you’re seeing Tyler Owens for the first time.

“You leave that up to me. Just be ready by 7 p.m. Wear that dress from last night.”

He steps away and you feel like you can breathe again. “Okay.” You agree.

“Okay?” he questions. “They don’t teach you manners up north?” He teases.

His comment catches you off guard and startles a genuine laugh from you, the first one you’ve had in a while, you realize. “Thank you,” you reply sincerely. 

Just like last night, Tyler taps your nose playfully and steps back. “7 p.m.,” he reminds you before he turns and heads off.

You don’t even notice it until you’re back at the truck, but the pressure in your chest that’s been weighing on you all morning is gone.

–

Riding to Bartlesville with Javi isn’t half bad, he’s more than willing to share the endless supply of snacks he’s got stashed all over the vehicle. You rummage through the glovebox, pushing away a questionable-looking melted bar of chocolate for a package of Skittles.

“So, you gonna tell me what last night was all about?” He asks.

You freeze, anxiety skittering up your spine. Does he know about you and Scott?

“Javi, I —”

“Tyler Owens?” he presses. “I saw you with his crew last night, and Scott mentioned he was bothering you this morning.”

At the mention of Scott’s name, there’s a familiar, painful tug in your chest. You ignore it, just like you do with the knowledge that Scott saw you and Tyler together. You don’t want to think about him right now.

“Are you asking as my friend or as my boss?” You question, propping your foot on the dashboard and tossing a Skittle into your mouth.  

“As your friend I want to make sure you’re being safe. And as your boss, I wanna know why you’re spending time with the competition,” he says. “Also, take your damn foot off the dash.”

You flash him a grin and place your other foot beside the first. Javi sighs in annoyance but extends his hand, waving his fingers expectantly. You sift through the bag and hand him the green Skittles. Despite the years that have passed from when he was a fresh-faced Corporal with a buzzcut and you were a civilian contractor feeling way out of your depth, you appreciate this part of your relationship remains unchanged.

“He was looking for some contouring tips.” You joke, earning another look. “He wanted to know where we were headed next,” you tell him, surprising yourself with how easy the lie comes to you.”Don’t worry, I told him we were going to Broken Bow.”

“He’s gonna meet us in Bartlesville, isn’t he?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you agree, rummaging through the Skittles bag to find another handful of green ones. “Does he really bother you that much?”

Javi shrugs, his expression thoughtful as he takes the Skittles from you. “He’s annoying and disruptive, but…not really, I guess. We’re still getting good data when he isn’t shooting fireworks into tornadoes.”

You laugh. “Peter loved that. He kept showing clips to everyone. I think it was the highlight of his week.”

“Yeah, how about you? You like Tyler Owens, too?”

You raise an eyebrow, a touch of exasperation in your voice. “Javi…”

“What?” he asks innocently, his gaze meeting yours. “It’s just a question.”

“Okay, if we’re just asking questions, how’s Kate doing?”

Javi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he avoids your eyes. “You really shouldn’t be asking your boss personal questions like that.”

“Mmmm, okay,” you reply.

For as long as you’ve known Javi, Kate’s been a topic of conversation. It wasn’t until recently that he reconnected with her, though, flying off to New York to recruit her for the team. She turned him down but texted him sporadically. It was clear to you he was painfully in love with her.

“We’re texting again,” Javi admits finally. "And she agreed to go to dinner when I'm in New York again next week," he reveals with a smile. 

“Look at you go,” you encourage. 

“Don’t make it a big deal,” he says, reaching over to fiddle with the radio. 

Static bursts through a second later before it’s replaced by a soft, crooning voice. You settle back in your seat when you sense Javi’s done talking about the Kate situation. Based on the radar, you know it’s best to catch some sleep while you can. You close your eyes and tilt your head towards the sunlight streaming through the side window, letting the warmth wash over you. Tension drains from your body as you drift off to sleep, listening to Javi sing off-tune to the radio.  

–

At exactly 7 p.m., there’s a knock on your door. You open it to see Tyler standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe, cowboy hat tipped low. He’s wearing a pearl snap shirt and sporting an impressively large belt buckle.

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” Tyler reminds you with a smirk. Your cheeks heat as you meet his gaze, feeling slightly embarrassed. “It says ‘Tornado Wrangler.’ Just in case you were too distracted to read it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you reply, though your tone lacks any real bite.

“But I do love a little flattery,” Tyler counters, extending his arm toward you. 

After a moment of hesitation, you slip your hand around his bicep, allowing yourself to be guided along. The parking lot is quiet. It seems that the weekend storm chasers have all gone home. There’s only one solitary figure in the distance, their cigarette glowing briefly with an orange flare in the darkness. Most of the motel rooms you pass are dark and you wonder if everyone on your team has gone to the bar Peter suggested in the group text. 

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Only the finest establishment Bartlesville has to offer,” he replies.

“So the bar everyone else is headed to.”

“You city girls,” he says with a shake of his head. “Come on now,” he encourages, pulling you with him as he sprints across the road to another parking lot that’s crowded and brightly lit. 

The neon letters flashing above the entrance proclaim that you've arrived at Cowboys’ Dancehall. As you and Tyler approach, you both hand over your IDs to the bouncer stationed outside. He scrutinizes the out-of-state licenses for a long moment before waving you on. 

Inside, it’s loud and dimly lit. Couples spin around the dance floor to a fast-paced country song. The bar is crowded, but Tyler cuts through the throng of people with ease, keeping you beside him with a hand at your hip until you reach the old wooden bar. When he leans in to speak to the bartender his chest brushes your back.

“I’ll take a Bud Light, and the lady will have a rosé,” he tells her, his voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.

The bartender, an older woman with deep lines etched into her face, stares at Tyler before she pops the caps off two Bud Lights and slides them across the bar. “That’ll be $7 even,” she announces.

You press your hand to your mouth, stifling a laugh at the exchange.

“Well alright,” Tyler says, reaching for his wallet.

“I can pay for myself,” you insist, digging through your purse but he’s faster, dropping $10 on the counter. 

“A fake date is still a date.” He tells you. 

You’re relieved to escape the crush of the crowded bar as you make your way past the dance floor toward the quieter back area where tables are scattered. Peter spots you first, his face lighting up when he waves you over enthusiastically. You’re taken aback to see most of your coworkers seated at a table with Tyler’s crew. Boone greets you with a lopsided salute, while Lily gives you a fist bump. Tyler pulls out a chair for you, and you take a seat, distracted as you search the room for a familiar face.

“Don’t worry,” Peter half shouts to you over the table. “Javi and Scott are meeting with that investor guy.”

“Oh,” you respond, nodding and wondering just how often your coworkers hung out with Tyler’s team in Scott and Javi’s absence.

You were never one to go out with them before, preferring to wind down alone with a good book or movie. It’s clear that this isn’t the first time they’ve gathered like this; everyone seems pretty comfortable together. Tyler, in particular, is completely unfazed to find his crew mingling with Storm Par.

“You’re not going to rat us out to Scott are you?” Daniel asks nervously.

“City girl wouldn’t do that,” Tyler says confidently, resting an arm over the back of your chair. “Would you?” he asks.

He leans in slightly, his thumb brushing gently against your bare shoulder. The unexpectedly intimate touch startles you, and it takes a moment for you to regain your composure. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” you promise, offering Daniel a reassuring smile.

He seems to accept your words and you settle back into your chair, letting the conversation of the table wash over you. Sipping your beer, you occasionally glance toward the door. There’s no sign of Scott and you’re left wondering about Tyler’s plan. Everyone else seems confident he and Javi won’t make an appearance tonight. 

“Alright, enough sitting. Let’s dance,” Tyler announces, offering you his hand. 

You nearly choke on your beer. “Dance?” you repeat, waving him off. “No one mentioned anything about dancing.”

“I can’t have you leaving Oklahoma without learning how to two-step.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” you challenge.

“I get the impression you don’t let yourself have a lot of fun,” Tyler replies quietly. The softness of his eyes and the utter sincerity in his voice make it hard to hold his gaze. It’s unsettling how clearly he seems to see through you. 

“Come on,” he says, offering you his hand. “It’ll be fun.”

You glance at the door again before letting Tyler guide you toward the dance floor. The beat of the song is fast and you watch how effortlessly the other couples move, their steps fluid and graceful. Tyler takes your right hand and wraps his left arm around you, his palm resting firmly on your shoulder blade, drawing you close. After a moment’s hesitation, you place your left arm on his bicep. He feels warm and strong against you.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” You say, feeling silly and out of place. 

“Nothing to it. All you gotta do is follow, I’ll lead,” Tyler promises, surging forward and taking you with him. 

You stumble a little, but Tyler’s quick to adjust his pace for you. He keeps you to the outside of the dance floor, guiding you through the moves. You watch his feet, trying to coordinate your own, but you end up stepping on his toes more than a few times. He doesn’t seem to mind, gently correcting you. It feels like you have two left feet and your anxiety flares in response.

“Look up here,” Tyler says, waiting patiently until you meet his gaze before continuing. “Don’t overthink it — just feel it”

“That’s easy for you to say,” you mutter. 

“So let’s keep that big brain busy. Tell me about yourself. Did you go to a fancy school like MIT too?” He asks, his tone playful.

“Uh. No,” you say, glancing down only to have him tap your shoulder. You look up again. “I went to a state school.”

“So did I,” he reveals. “Though it was just for meteorology and atmospheric science.”

“You did?”

“Hey, no need to sound so surprised,” he replies, feigning mock hurt.

“A cowboy and a scholar,” you tease.

“Don’t forget a pretty great dancer, too,” he adds, lifting his arm to twirl you around before pulling you back into his embrace. When he does it again, a breathless laugh escapes you.

“Atta girl,” Tyler says, pulling you even closer. “Now we’re having fun.”

Your skin tingles and you feel warm all over. The world narrows to Tyler’s handsome face, his green eyes deep and captivating in the dim light. Your chest tightens, only allowing you to pull in shallow breaths that leave you lightheaded. In that moment, you realize you haven’t stumbled once — you’re moving perfectly in sync with him.

“One more dance?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” you agree.

The current song fades into something softer and more subdued. The crowd begins to thin, but Tyler doesn’t seem deterred by the change. He lowers his hand to the small of your back, holding you close as he guides you in a slow, graceful sweep across the floor. Despite the smoky bar and the crowd of people, all you smell is Tyler's clean, crisp scent. It reminds you of the first storm of the season, the air electric and charged with energy. Full of potential. 

Tyler stares steadily at you as he continues to move you across the floor, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. The music seems to fade, leaving only the sound of his breathing and your own. Your lashes flutter and you close your eyes, allowing yourself to simply feel — weightless and free. 

It’s only when someone else bumps into you that your eyes snap open and reality comes rushing back. You stumble, but Tyler catches you, pulling you gently to the side.

“Doing alright?” He questions.

You nod, feeling strangely shaky. “I think I need some water.”

Hand still in yours, Tyler tugs you along until he reaches the end of the bar, where a large water jug sits. He hands you a cup, and you drink deeply, surveying the crowded bar. It takes you a while to realize you’re just taking in the sights and sounds, and you haven't thought about Scott at all.

“Our beers are probably warm by now. You want another?” He asks. 

“I shouldn’t.”

He smiles and pulls out his phone, opening the weather app. The screen shows a mess of red and yellow just south of you. “You’re probably right,” he admits.

You both head back to the table, where Boone groans at Tyler’s announcement that his crew should return to the motel after finishing their drinks. Your coworkers seem to agree, with some heading to the bar to settle their tabs.

“I’ll walk you back.” Tyler offers.

Outside, the moon is obscured by thick clouds and it feels cooler than when you first arrived. Your eyes roam the parking lot, catching sight of Scarecrow. Scott and Javi must be back from their meeting. A pang of disappointment hits you. You’d hoped Scott would have seen you with Tyler again. 

“Well…this is you,” Tyler says, stopping in front of your hotel room. “Not a bad night.”

“It wasn’t,” you agree. “But Scott didn’t show up.”

Tyler presses his lips together, his gaze falling away to look at something past you. His nostrils flare and then his eyes return to you, but the tension in his jaw remains.

"You had fun, didn't you?" He prods.

Even if tonight hadn't gone the way you wanted it to, you have to admit he was right. You had fun. 

"I did,” you say, offering him a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“Well, then, it wasn’t a total loss. You had a good time,” he says, his tone warm. To your surprise, he leans in, removing his cowboy hat and holding it level with your face, effectively blocking your view to the left. His hand settles lightly on your hip. “Looks like we’ve got an audience — tall, dark, and a total dipshit.”

You stare up at him, your whole body tingling. “Scott?” You whisper.

“Mmmhmm,” Tyler returns. “Now if you're asking for my advice, I'd let him stew a bit. A man should have to work for you. Put in some effort.”

You nod, and Tyler steps back, pulling his hat on. When you finally look to the left the walkway is deserted, bathed in the dim light filtering through the curtains of the neighboring rooms. Tyler insists on waiting until you're safely inside, and you watch him linger by the door for another minute before he finally turns to leave.

With a sigh, you sit on the bed and slip off your shoes, feeling strangely adrift and unsure. Your text to Scott from this morning remains unanswered and you have no idea if what you’re doing with Tyler is going to help the way you want it to. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to clear your mind. 

Lost in your thoughts, you nearly miss the soft knock at the door. You crack it open, looking up at Scott. His dark hair is damp, curling over his forehead. He smiles at you and your heart flutters in response. You almost invite him in on instinct, but Tyler’s earlier remarks rise to the surface.

“What?” Scott asks.

You straighten your shoulders, gathering the courage for what you want to ask. “Why didn’t you respond to my text message?”

His brow furrows, like he has zero idea what you’re talking about.

“I sent you a text this morning,” you clarify. 

“We’re not supposed to text and drive in a company vehicle, you know that.” 

His response immediately makes you feel silly because of course that made sense. Just last week Javi got on Daniel about texting and driving. 

“Are you really going to make me stand out here?” He asks, quickly looking down the hall. He was probably worried someone would see the two of you. 

“Of course not.” You step back to let him inside, chewing on the inside of your lip. “I just…why did you have me move cars?” 

Scott presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek and exhales loudly. You wrap your arms around yourself and take a step back, but he follows you.

“You’ve ridden with me the last two days,” he says quietly. One of his large hands cups your jaw. “I can’t have people accusing me of favoritism, can I?” 

You shake your head, frowning. He’s too close, his aftershave nearly overpowering. You need some space. 

“Scott, I —” Whatever you were about to say is cut off as both your phones suddenly buzz, and outside you hear the all too familiar wail of the tornado siren.

♡

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[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, sorry this is such a long ask, but you’re writing is so yummy I had to see this play out… can i get a mille-feuille, sausage roll, pithivier, s’mores, mint julep, whiskey, and dark roast coffee served by charles or max, you can chose which one:)

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! thank you to all the submissions for the bakery! i love them all and i am going through all of them slowly, haha. i love writing these so keep 'em coming!! thank you! a few things were changed regarding pronouns

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + sausage roll ("i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt.") + pithivier ("if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you.") + s'more ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + mint julep (punishments) + whiskey (degrading language) + dark roast coffee (sub!character) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk/degrading language, sub!charles, punishments, motor mouth charles, bondage, implied oral sex, cowgirl position

charles could be bound to your bed, but as long as his mouth wasn't gagged. he would be a good submissive and make sure that his mouth ran until you finished. you loved that, his dirty talk. it drove you crazy, crazy enough that you'd bind him to the bed and take a ride on his cock to fill that sexual itch you had all day.

you panted with your hands on his shoulders, "if you don't behave, i'll let the others take care of you." an empty threat. as if there were others. charles just chuckled and gave you that winning smile.

"The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

in a traditional sense, you were the dominant one and charles was more of the submissive type. he aimed to please in the bedroom, it was a reason why he was always a favourite with the women of monaco. but while he enjoyed his time with them, he fell nicely into your arms.

it was evident that you were more of the one to take charge in the relationship. like when the press caught a photo of you feeding your darling charles strawberries while you were out. or another time when you had your hand on his lower back as you stayed close to him. even though he was a big taller than you, you were still protective of the angel you called a boyfriend.

"such a good boy." you panted as you rested yourself up onto his chest. mindful of the weight on it. you had spent the last ten minutes with your hand in your boyfriend's dark hair while you rubbed your achy cunt up against his face. he was bound to the bed, seated upright with his hands behind his back. enough pillows to cushion them from the headboard.

he tilted his head back and nodded a little, "oui, madame." he panted before he looked at you. those green eyes hazy from the intense lust, "je veux plus. i want more." he swallowed, his chin and lips were covered in your wetness. the angle he orally pleasured you was odd, but he devoured you like a hungry man.

you got down to his waist and easily sank yourself onto his cock. he yanked against the binds a little bit. you were giving him exactly what he asked for and he could feel the buzz of pleasure in his brain as you wiped his face with your hand before you pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you continued to rock your hips against him.

"that’s it, fuck, that’s a good boy.” you said when you pulled away and continued to hold onto his strong shoulders. you moaned loudly against him. you could feel the heat through your body as you two moved together.

"always for you." he said, "anything for you. why don't you take this ropes off of me and let me show you how to fuck properly. i know you want it, my love. to feel me much deeper." he could feel the rush of pleasure through his body.

he knew this was a punishment.

"i don't think so, my love." you replied as you continued to ride him. your short nails dug into his shoulders as you moved against him, "you know what you did wrong. we have rules remember?"

he moaned when you kissed him once more. he felt excited and hot all over. he was always expected to be the big strong dominant one in the relationship. and while he could easily dominate on the track. it was nice for the bedroom to be under you so pretty. to let you work his cock and leave him in a state of heightened bliss. he groaned a little louder when you broke the kiss and started to move your hips faster.

he moaned then said, "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt." he said with lust in his voice, "get a lot of photos of it while you rode me." he chuckled a little bit, "you like how it all feels, you around me. you are so good to me, mon cherie." then shuddered when your pace slowed down by the thrusts got longer. the strength of them pulled words out of charles' mouth.

you made out with him sloppily as you continued to move. allowing your lover to be placid under you. you came first, your lips against his. when you finally broke the kiss after you hit your peak, you saw the redness around his soft lips. you continued to move and he continued to run his mouth.

the throb in his head was strong, the want in his body made him tense up. he shuddered at the feeling of you, you felt well beyond a dream. "you're pretty like this, madame. you take me so well. i love you, i want you. you treat me so well." he groaned a little bit as he yanked at his constraints a little more. he felt the urge to orgasm down to his bones and he knew he'd finish in you soon enough, "you complete me. you make me dirty like an animal who needs you. give it all to me." he said between hearty pants, his toned chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

he was only able to climax when you pulled him in for another hot kiss. then he arched his back a little bit. he always looked so beautiful when he climaxed. the type of beauty that struck you to your core. you managed to make yourself climax one more time before you slowed your pace to a stop.

you held his face in your hands, he rested all the weight in his head against you and looked in a state of heightened bliss. he groaned when you got off his cock and kissed his forehead. his brain was running hot and he yearned for his madame's sweet touch.

"you're going to be a good boy for me now? no more being a jealous submissive and telling your teammates how good i fuck you. i don't need the entire world to know how much of a good boy you are for me."

he gave you that charming smile and said, "mon amor." he chuckled, "i want them all to be jealous over how good we are for each other." and while you couldn't argue too much with that. as you undid the ropes, it was about the principle of the matter.

you didn't want everyone to know how much of a slut charles was <3

[luveline]

losers | remus lupin

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?” 

you find remus’ number on an abandoned motorbike. things snowball from there. [10k words]

fem!reader, fluff, first date, smut mdni, implied inexperienced!reader, almost rockstar!remus, mentioned that remus takes painkillers, muggle!au, early 2000’s au

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ There’s a motorbike outside of the cafe.

It’s huge. Too heavy for you to move. Technically, you hadn’t found it at all, it was left there in the dead of night a few days ago and hasn’t budged since. It’s illegally parked, a fact that your manager won't stop muttering about while she’s elbow deep in latte foam and coffee cakes. 

“I’m getting the bastard thing towed,” she grumbles that morning. “Let the police deal with it.”

That seems rather harsh to you. It isn’t necessarily in the way, and it looks well loved. Perhaps whoever left it can’t remember where they left it, having stumbled home on inebriated footing after one too many at the pub across the street. You think about how much it must cost to get your stuff back after it’s been towed, and though you aren’t sure of the specifics, you know it can’t be cheap. So, when your manager falls into conversation with a regular and your break begins, you creep outside to do some investigating. 

It’s a hulking thing made of more black than silver. There are stickers across the left side of the body, weathered and peeling, though one is newer than the others and immediately draws your eye. 

A phone number. 

If lost, please call. 

You take your phone out of your pocket, a flip phone with one dangling charm in the shape of a star. You click each faded button slowly. You're scared to talk to someone you don’t know, but relieved to maybe save the day. 

It goes for ages. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” you say, dropping your voice into its sweetest tones, though nerves make you too soft, and you worry you’re hard to hear. “Hey, um, sorry to bother you. I work at The Mill, it’s a– a cafe in the city centre… Are you missing a bike, by any chance? A motorbike?”

“Oh, thank you. Yeah, it’s my friend’s. He can be… forgetful.” The voice that speaks is both smooth and gritty, impossibly, like whoever it is that’s talking smoked half a pack of cigarettes before he answered the phone. He clears his throat. “I hope it hasn’t been an imposition for you.”

“Actually, uh, my manager wants to have it towed. Like, now. I can try to fend her off but honestly she’s like, that physics law, um, unstoppable force? Uh,” —you’re stuttering, making it worse, because his voice is surprisingly handsome and you’re an idiot through and through— “yeah, so could you come and get it?”

“Yes! Yeah, absolutely, we’re on our way. Thank you.”

“Sure. Of course.”

You hear something not meant for you, the tail end of, “Sirius, get up. You better call Marl and—”

Phone back in your pocket, you take a quick glance around the street before reaching out to run your finger over the cracked leather of the motorbike seat. You’ve never ridden one before. You’ve never wanted to. The level of fearlessness one needs for it isn’t one you possess. 

You’re the opposite of fearless. 

The sun hides behind a wave of clouds. Your skin chills near immediately, your prim slacks and apron a worthless defence against the cold. It’s an average day here, grey and quiet. Occasionally a couple will pass you, hand in hand as they traverse the worn pavement. You smile at an elderly man and his dog as they shuffle across the street and into the cafe. Your smile fades as you tune into the fierce tones of your manager, demanding to know where you’ve gone. If your absence is what distracts her from calling the police, so be it. 

You’re considering getting your phone back out to play Snake when a passing car slows beside you. You straighten up and out, feeling your spine click in more places than it should as the passenger door opens and an insanely attractive man throws himself out of it. 

“My angel!” he cries, heading straight for you. 

You take a panicked step backward. The man dives for his motorbike. You flinch, mystified by his enthusiasm and his opposite appearance. Short sleeves reveal arms full of dark tattoos, with one side marred by a brutally long scar from his elbow to the back of a ring-laden hand. You tear your eyes from him as a second door closes across the street, and feel all the air rush from your chest as a second man approaches. 

He’s very pretty. It might be redundant to say it to yourself, presented as you are with an undeniable truth, but you think it anyway. Sandy brown hair, pale skin, and in enough layers to make up for his friends lack thereof, the second man ignores any dramatics and meets you head on. 

“Hi,” he says, holding out his hand, “you’re the one who called?”

Closer now, you can see the scars on his face. They stretch over the ridge of his nose and into his eyebrow. A smaller one tugs as he talks against his top lip. 

You take his hand and shake it limply. “Yeah, that was me.”

If he’s concerned with your nervousness he doesn’t show it. His smile doesn’t move. “He wants to say thank you. He will, once he gets over himself.”

“Thank you!” the dark-haired man calls. “She’s my everything. I’ve been sick with worry.”

“Have you?” the man in front of you asks, his voice steady, almost intimidating in its impassiveness. 

“Yes, Moons, I have been… not that you’d know.”

“Some of us have real problems,” Moons snips, though he quickly looks at you like he’s embarrassed. “Sorry. He brings out the worst in me.”

“You must be good friends.” 

You don’t know why you say it. He only smiles. 

“We must be.”

The first man stands up from checking over his motorbike and beams at you. You suspect it’s an expression that works in his favour more often than not. “What can I give you, doll?” 

“No, nothing. Please. I’ll just be glad to hear the end of it.”

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah, really." 

Your manager calls your name, clear as day despite the thick pane of glass and brick walls separating you. 

"That's you?" Moons asks. 

"That's me. Sorry." 

"No, don't be. Thanks so much for calling." 

You nod hurriedly, throwing them both a 'nice to meet you, I'm sorry for leaving so fast' kind of smile and head back inside. 

You take a sneaky look back when you're behind the counter again. They’ve turned their backs to you, Moons' friend ruffling his hair roughly. After a minute or two, Moons gets back in his car, and the motorbike pulls away like it was never there to begin with. 

What sort of name is Moons? you ask yourself. It's a question that stays with you for a few days. You find yourself hoping you'll see him again, or that his friend's motorbike will turn up outside of the cafe for a few long days and give you an excuse to call him. His number stays unsaved in your recent calls menu for a while. Eventually, you forget about him altogether; the motorbike, the call, the gentle wave of his hair. 

You're hard-pressed to forget his voice, though. There'd been something familiar about it. 

"Nice highscore." 

You jump hard and wince as the metallic taste of blood hits your taste buds. To make it worse, you slam your phone up into the counter it was hiding under in shock. It makes a fatal crunching sound. 

You shove it into your pocket and look up. Standing there, in all his handsome weariness, is Moons, sans friend. He's wearing nice clothes, clean and clearly ironed. You're immediately aware of your ratty uniform and your unkempt hair. 

"Shit," you say, which is so fucking embarrassing, honestly, you could fall through the floor and stay there, "Sorry. What can I get you?" 

His eyebrows inch up his forehead. "What's the easiest thing to make?" 

That's not a question you get often. "Uh, regular black coffee, or tea, or, the uh– the hot chocolate's not that hard. But you should order whatever you like, of course." 

Moons smiles at you. You're starting to understand the nickname (assuming it is a nickname). He has this odd but enticing presence about him, like that awestruck feeling of looking up at night and seeing all the teeny tiny stars and the moonlight that comes down with them, bright and somewhat daunting. 

"Sure you don't mind?" 

"I'm paid not to mind." 

"Can I get the biggest cup of tea you can make? Milk and two sugars, please." 

"Absolutely." You sidestep to the register and click a bunch of the wrong buttons. You're unprofessionally flustered. "Uh, three sixty five?" 

He passes you a five pound note. Your tip cup is for the more generous type, and he has no trouble dropping his palmful of change into it. He barely looks. You're expecting him to take a seat but he stays standing, one arm pressed to the counter, the other held up. He scratches behind his ear absentmindedly, as though he has nowhere else to be. 

"Are you in a hurry?" you ask, confused. 

He stays quiet for enough time to shit you up. You're tipping milk over your hand and hoping he hasn't seen it when he says, "No rush. I'm here to see you." 

You look over your shoulder at him. You can't help it. "To see me." 

"Yeah." 

You spin back to his tea. The counter is covered in spills and sugar, cup tops and wooden stirrers. You take them all in with wide eyes. Nobody ever comes to see you. Not your friends, not family (unless they want something). Especially not boys you met once for two minutes. 

"Is there something wrong?" you ask. 

You clip the lid onto his big tea and wrap it in napkins so it doesn't burn his hands. 

"Nothing's wrong," he says kindly. "I wanted to apologise. Your boss was upset with you. It was Sirius' fault. We owe you for it." 

"You really don't have to say sorry. She wasn’t that mad. No harm, no foul." 

You put his cup of tea down in front of him and try to smile like girls do in the movies. Soft doe eyes, not too bright, not too awkward. You give up after a second and feel it twist into something regrettable. 

His long silence makes you squirm.

"A thank you, then.”

He offers you an envelope. You take it. 

The paper is crisp and thick. Your fingers are clumsy, and it takes you too many seconds to fold the envelope's lip and pull out the card stock inside. 

You look up in shock. "I can't–" 

He's not there. You look to the door, catching what might've been his hand as he walks out of view. 

He's left you two concert tickets. You don't go to concerts. You might have, when you were younger, and had friends to follow. As it stands he's given you two seated tickets for a show in the Pointer Arena not far from where you work, for a band you've never heard of. The price on each is a solid £20, which is way too much repayment for ringing a number from a sticker. Worse, you're not sure you have somebody who can use the second one. 

You hope he'll come back for clarification alone, and a little to see him, but he doesn't, and soon the date on the ticket matches the date on your calendar and you're standing outside of the venue with no clue how to hold yourself. 

You stand in line for a while. It's a very long line made up of mostly younger women. You listen for the calling of a reseller and spot a group of young girls trying to haggle with them, reluctantly leaving your place in line. 

"Hi," you say quietly to the one furthest from the epicentre. "I'm sorry if this is weird. I have an extra ticket tonight, and I was wondering if you'd like it? I know it's seated, but maybe you could use it to get in and then, uh, not sit? Or just sit." You could writhe around on the ground in shame. You hold out the spare ticket. "If you want it." 

"Are you kidding?" 

"No, seriously." 

She takes the ticket and you walk away before she can try and give it back to you. Whether she uses it or not, it's no longer your problem to deal with. The lady who'd been standing behind you lets you back in line, for which you're extremely grateful, and you shiver your way to the front with nerves churning your stomach. 

You've imagined being turned away twenty times by the time they usher you through the doors. The air is buzzing with excitement, enough of it to ramp up your nerves, and you smile weakly at the people who pass you on the way up to the seating area you've been designated. The Pointer Arena is a smaller venue with much more standing than seating capacity available. The seats are at the sides and back of the second floor, looking down at the pit with a safety barrier in front. 

You slide into your seat and peer down at the crowd as it fills up one ant of a person at a time. You can't distinguish one person from another after a while. It’s a moving sea of dark clothes. 

It takes a long time for the opening act to come on. You're not having much fun. You'd tried to use the computer in the cafe to research the bands playing tonight but the dial up hadn't been working and your manager hates when you take long breaks, so you aren't sure you'll even enjoy yourself. You're not sure why you came here — is it sad, to come here alone? It looks sad, you think, pathetic, but it doesn't feel sad. You're not very good at talking, anyways. It's so difficult. Or maybe you just make it that way. 

This is why you regret coming. Any time spent by yourself is time to think. You hate thinking, but it's all you seem to be able to do. Think and think and think. Your mind runs in the same circles. Things you've done, things you wish you did, things you want to do so badly it makes you feel sick. You can't stand it. 

The crowd begins to rise in volume. Cheers echo against the atrium ceiling, and you push yourself to the edge of your seat to see what's making them all so excited. 

The opening band. They're too far away to see clearly. First on stage is a man with brown skin and a head of black curls, a guitar swinging from his neck, the body barely held as he waves to the masses. Next comes a paler man with hair tied up in a bun who sits down behind the drum kit and doesn't move much after that. A girl practically sprints to centre stage, scooping up a waiting guitar (or bass?) and strumming down the body appreciatively. She has purple hair, bright and choppy, particularly abrasive against the alabaster white of her skin. 

And last on stage… last on stage is Moons. 

You move forward suddenly, smacking your face against the plexiglass barrier and biting your cheek for the second time in a week. Used to your mistreatment, the poorly healed skin wastes no time splitting, and the metallic taste of blood makes you cringe. 

That's Moons. There are two huge screens either side of the stage that magnify him. First his hand on the microphone, a scar coiling up from his wrist to his thumb purple against his skin. Then his face. You wouldn't forget what he looks like so soon, not when you've half obsessed over him for days with could-be's because he'd wanted to see you and you have a bad habit of inventing future's with people you don't know, but even if you did it wouldn't matter. You've never met anyone else with three scars as he has across his face, taking centre stage. 

You hadn't realised the tickets were to see his band. It makes sense, now, why your seat is in such a quiet area, and why the people sitting close by aren't firecracker happy at the sight of them. They must've received their tickets in the same way, gifts or thank yous for small favours. 

Your mouth dries as they begin to play. It's not what you're expecting. Of course, you haven't really had time to expect anything, and yet you're shocked when they start to play a slow song. He doesn't really look like a rockstar, but a heartthrob? You can see it easily. The long lengths of his lashes, and the dark honey of his eyes. His smile, so small but somehow piercing. 

His voice is careful. He doesn't sing anything impressive —there's no belting or high notes— but you still find yourself wringing your hands together, entranced by his confidence. He dances around the melodies and fills up every space he can find between the beat of the drums and the searing guitar riffs that follow. 

They only play five songs. By the time they've finished you're feeling sick to your stomach, and you can't get your heart to calm down. You hadn't known a word of the lyrics, but you'd felt them. 

They're good. 

Like, too good to be openers for long. 

The crowd echoes your sentiment. They clap and scream and wolf whistle. The noise vibrates in the depth of your stomach. The cheering doubles when the headlining band’s techies emerge. The lights go down. Equipment begins to roll out. 

You scrounge through your purse for a lip balm and think about heading downstairs to the concession stands for an overpriced bottle of water to wash away the unfortunate tang of blood. It aches to pay, but if you don't soon you might get nauseous, and that would be a real disaster, throwing up here of all places. 

You hear his voice before you see him. He's laughing, talking to somebody about the set. 

"It was great!" compliments a feminine voice. "I don't know what you were so worried about, Remus, you're really great. And if you weren't, Marl would've saved the day anyways with her gorgeous showmanship." 

"Thanks, baby," says a second voice. Marl. 

"Thanks, Mary," Moons says. 

What had Mary called him? Remus? Odd, not quite as strange as Moons. 

You try not to tense as footsteps approach. 

"Can I sit?" he asks. 

You look up too fast. He's a little damp, the hair closest to his face curled with it, but he smells good as he sits down. He must've washed up. 

"I– I've been calling you Moons in my head," you admit, not sure what to say. 

He's intimidating. You don't imagine he knows it. He sits in the chair without any fanfare, setting his forearm on the rest between your two seats and turning his face to you completely, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, almost like he doesn't want to smile but can't help himself. His eyes are the slightest bit lidded, emphasising the brilliance (and unfairness) of his lashes, so thick and dark you wonder if he's wearing makeup. 

"You can call me whatever you want to, but my name's Remus. I should've told you that before. I was… distracted." 

He isn't being coy, you realise. He easily could be if he wanted to, but he was genuinely lost for words for a second.

"I didn't really tell you mine," you say, hoping to ease his gentle confusion. 

He says your name like it's easy. Like he enjoys the sound of it. "Y/N. Do you like music?" 

Is that a trick question? His eyes trace up to your eyebrows as they pinch together, but he doesn't amend his question. Not a trick, then. 

"I like music,” you say.

"I realise it's brave to ask someone to come and see you on stage. And that I look like a tosser sometimes with the stage lights and makeup." 

"No," you say quickly, "you don't. You looked just fine. You looked good. I bet it's hard getting on stage like that, and in front of this many people. And singing. You have a really nice voice." 

His eyes soften. "Thank you. Do you wanna go get a drink with me? There's a bar. It's quiet." 

Your elbow brushes against his long sleeve. "Yeah." You're not breathless enough to embarrass yourself, but it's a close call. 

Remus leads you up and out of the seats. The venue is large in that it has just as many hallways and back rooms as it has places to watch the show. Remus’ warm hand catches your elbow, a friendly touch that guides you around the barrier and through a dimly lit hallway that takes you to the bar. 

The bar overlooks the stage, but the sound of the band and the crowd is dampened severely, making for a sorely needed respite. VIP's mill around the room on plush leather sofas and cushy bar stools sipping from sweating glass bottles. Remus' hand moves up to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as a familiar face waves you over. 

"Hey, it's you!" 

You smile at Remus' motorbike friend. You're a hundred percent sure his name is Sirius, but you won't say it aloud in case you're wrong. Beside him sits the other man you'd seen on stage with them, the guitarist with brown skin and a head full of thick hair. You look between the three of them in secret shock, wondering if handsome attracts handsome or if it's just dumb luck that they ended up together. 

"James, this is the babe that found Stacia," Sirius says.

James wrinkles his nose. "Hi," he says, in a voice that sounds deeply apologetic, years of it like the rings of a tree. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Um, and you?" 

"I'm good! Thanks, I'm good, it's nice of you to come see us. Did you like the show?" 

"Yeah, I did. I had no idea you guys were musicians." 

He splits his attention between you and his jacket. He pulls a glasses case out of his pocket, clicks it open, and straightens out a pair of wire frames. 

"Couldn't tell from our baby boy's general demeanour?" he asks. "Hey, that's better, I can see you now." 

"Sirius is the youngest," Remus says. 

"And the handsomest." 

"No, Marl's clearly the handsome one," James says lightly. 

Sirius takes the rebuttal in good jest and brandishes his drink toward you like a toast. "Want a beer?" 

"I'm getting her one," Remus says, "come on, give me a minute here." 

Everybody laughs. You laugh too, turning your face into your shoulder to smother the sound. 

"Well, come and sit with us, make yourself comfortable," James says, moving his jacket off of the chair in front of you.

Remus makes a small, apprehensive sound. "Drinks first." He looks to you for confirmation. "Yeah. We'll be back." 

You follow him to the bar. Your shoes, a pair of dirty converse you wish you'd swapped for heels or something sophisticated, squeal against the hardwood floor. How were you supposed to know you'd see him again tonight? In what world does stuff like this happen to scruffy waitresses? You're starting to think he might be somebody. 

Not that it matters if he is or isn't. 

But if he is… This is embarrassing, right? Not knowing who he is. 

There must be a couple thousand people here tonight. Then again, his band were the opening act, so it doesn't necessarily mean they're all famous or anything. 

"Hey," Remus says softly, stopping your thoughts cold. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. Sorry. I've never been in here before, anywhere that's like it,” you say. 

"Venues are all different but the bars don't change," he says. "What do you like?" 

"I'm not a big drinker." 

"That's okay. I just wanted an excuse to be alone with you." He doesn't even give you time to recover. "Truth is, I wanted to ask you out. But between shows I couldn't find time, and next week I'm in San Marino." 

What you mean to say is, you wanted to ask me out? But instead, you choke, "You're going to Italy?" 

Remus pushes a seat out for you, helping you up with a solid hand, and, while your fingers are still warm from his touch, he says, "San Marino isn't Italy. I didn't know that 'til a few months ago. But pretty much." 

"What's in San Marino?" 

"A wedding." He climbs into the seat next to you, smiling.

The tan colour of his long-sleeves contrasts his pale hands. Your eyes flash to his ring finger. Not his wedding. 

Remus isn’t easy to talk to. It's not wholly his fault. He doesn't force conversation, leaving you awkwardly searching for something to say. You're not the best conversationalist either. He clearly doesn't mind it. 

You're in the midst of a clumsy retelling of a shitty customer service moment when he tips his head to the left just a touch. 

"Maybe we can go on an actual date when I'm home,” he says.

He says it like he's talking about the weather. You'd be worried he was messing with you, but then he smiles again, flicking his index finger against your wrist mildly. "You don't have to answer me now. Finish telling your story."

"It was pretty much finished. And– and I'd like to. Go on a real date. I've never been out of the country, so you'll have to forgive me if I want to know everything about San Marino." 

He looks at your lips. Says, "Good," and doesn't give any indication that he's noticed how nervous you are. That is, until he covers your trembling hand with his and presses it flat to the bar. 

"You're really pretty," he murmurs. He takes a moment, and he smiles. "Come with me? If I don't give Sirius some attention soon he'll start showing off."

— 

James is starting to wonder if he should invite you to San Marino. He's not that stupid; it would be a huge pain if you were standing in the middle of all his wedding photos and you and Remus don't work out. But, while he's certainly and majorly jumping the gun, he has a suspicion he’ll be seeing you again. 

James has never seen Remus like this before. 

His friend is usually quiet, quipping every now and then perhaps at Sirius' insufferable antagonism but otherwise brooding. He hasn't seen him smile this much, ever. 

James is under no illusions — he knows Remus loves him very much. He knows Remus is happy, and not always healthy but managing. He knows Remus is pleased with their lives and ecstatic to have their music take off. But he also knows Remus won't let himself have a good thing, not really. Maybe that's why he's asked you out now, when in a week they'll be in San Marino, and a week after that they'll be in Cardiff to officially start the new tour. 

He knows Remus, sweetheart, kind hearted, miraculous Remus, tends to let people down. He's a stickler for asking people out and cancelling the day before. It's how it always goes. James will ask how the date went and Remus will shake his head and say, "it didn’t work out." 

He knows Remus doesn't mean to hurt anybody. He just… can't get close. 

But he's trying, with you. A glass of cordial in one hand, the other behind your chair, Remus tells you one of his more embarrassing stories about how he'd taken a bad fall and ended up in A&E with half of an eyebrow. He doesn't mention the painkillers that made him woozy. 

You've relaxed considerably since sitting down. James would be happy to report that you're having a good time. You have your own drink in hand, and your eyes are bright, with a receding space between your face and Remus' as the story goes on. It's like watching two magnets fight to hold themselves apart.

Matter of time, James thinks to himself smugly. 

—

Honesty is important. You admit to yourself that you and Remus aren't exactly a perfect match. Both quiet, both not quite social butterflies, your conversations had occasionally been stilted and slow, but you've only met twice. Things don't have to be perfect, and more than that — there's a spark there. A twinge of a possibility. He'd liked what little he knew about you enough to ask to see you again, and you'd like what little you knew about him in turn to say yes. 

It doesn't have to be perfect, you insist to yourself, a bundle of nerves. Nothing does. 

He looks pretty perfect. Base of his palm pressed to the brick wall of the cafe, hand angled down as his fingers grasp the neck of a bouquet whose flowers have been shedding petals onto the damp pavement below. He holds his other hand against his chest, clicking buttons on his phone. 

You approach from the left and watch him play a game of Snake. 

"You play Snake?" you ask.

"Doesn't everybody?" he asks back, his smile softening what might otherwise feel like a chastisement. He doesn't look up from his phone.

"Woah, how long have you been out here?" you ask, eyeing his weirdly long snake.

Remus guides the snake into a wall on purpose. It dies, his high score flashes across the screen, and he aims an apologetic look your way. "Sorry, that was rude." He doesn't try to hide that he's looking over your face. "Thanks for coming." 

He leans in and kisses your cheek. Delighted warmth curls in your stomach, worse when he passes you the bouquet of flowers. They've mostly survived his poor treatment, and there's a lot of them. He's left the price tag on and you're not sure if he's noticed. You pretend not to see it. 

"Thank you…” You look away from the flowers, all whites and reds and baby’s breath, to ogle him as subtly as you can manage. “Wow, you've caught the sun. Was it lovely in San Marino?" 

"I'll tell you all about it over dinner,” he says. “I thought we'd walk, it's not far." He holds out his hand. You wipe your palm against your side before you take it, worried you'll have clammy hands. He must guess, because he says, "Don't be nervous." 

"I am," you say hopelessly. "I've never been on a date before." 

"This is your first date?" 

You feel a hot flush coming on. "I– yeah. That's embarrassing, I shouldn't have told you that." 

"No, it's a good thing. Now I know it has to be extra special." 

"It doesn't," you say. 

"I was hoping it would be." He pulls you down the pavement and further into the city centre toward the main high street. "San Marino. It was beautiful, and I took a couple of photos but I didn't have room on my phone. Well, I could've deleted Snake–" 

"Why would you?" you joke, grinning. 

He laughs, and squeezes your hand slightly. "Exactly. I have priorities. It's a long flight, and looking over the photos can only take up so much time. No, but it really was… it was beautiful. I'd never given much thought to a destination wedding. They make sense, right? It's the best day of your life, why would you have it here?" 

He tilts his chin toward the grey sky. You look up with him, feeling the cold wind kiss the sides of your face and pull through your hair. 

"Come on, Remus, it's not that bad. If it's sun you're after, you could just wait for British summer time. You know, the whole three days of it." 

He laughs — you've made him laugh twice already. This is going okay. Laughing while looking at one another, a bouquet in one hand and his hand in the other, you feel that curl of delight begin to bloom. It fills your insides up, has you smiling until your eyelashes brush in the corners. 

"It was James' wedding. Do you remember which one that was?" 

He asks so kindly. You don't doubt for a second that he wouldn't care if you forgot. It's refreshing, even if it's something you'd expect. 

"I remember. I didn't realise he was getting married." 

"Don't ever say that in front of him, he'll put himself on the cross." He swings your hand as you turn a corner. The Italian restaurant you'd agreed on winks from a distance. 

"He's devoted," you guess. 

"He's insane. He was worse when we were younger. His girlfriend– his wife," he amends, "Lily, she's really something else. Warm and funny, but she's been keeping him on his toes for years. She has family in San Marino, hence the wedding." 

You listen to him talk eagerly. His voice is as handsome as his face, and the more he says the less stilted he becomes. There had been a strained quality to it before (strained, or restrained? something he wasn't saying) that's all but disappeared. 

"It was like a movie. White linen, sand, crying." 

"Did you cry?" you ask, expecting a puffed up chest. 

"So much. Too much, maybe. I was half of the best man." 

"Half?" 

"We had to share, me and Sirius. They've always been…" Remus slows his steps. "Am I being boring? I'm talking too much about me." 

"We have time. I want to hear it. I'd like to hear it," you say. 

James and Sirius are brothers. Remus sees your surprised look and doesn't condemn you for it. Sirius is unofficially adopted. The Potter's fostered him from ages thirteen until he aged out, and though they tried to adopt him, Sirius was reluctant. Remus doesn't get into the reasons beyond that, and you don't ask. You suspect he's only telling you about it to drive home how much the Potter's love Sirius. How much James does. 

Remus had been Sirius' friend from their very first year of comprehensive school. Sirius moved in with the Potter's, and, adoring as they were, they let him have friends over whenever he liked. James, Sirius, and Remus spent the next decade together like that, hiding in Sirius' room. Best friends, entirely inseparable, and all fiercely protective of each other. 

"They've always been like brothers." 

"But not…" 

He understands what you're worried to say. "I think it would've been weird… I had a candle burning for James. For a long time." 

Your jaw drops a little. "And you just had to watch him have the most romantic wedding ever," you whisper sympathetically. You're joking: it's clear the candle isn't burning now. 

"Told you I cried," he says. "No, but you've seen him. He's a supermodel. It's awful." 

"Remus, I think you might be underestimating how handsome you are," you say. You bite your lip and look at his chin rather than his eyes. 

He's generous. He gives your wrist a tug and chuckles warmly. "I'm glad you think so. Tonight might have been awkward, otherwise." 

You duck together inside of the restaurant, hands falling apart as Remus gives his last name for the reservation. Lupin. Your face has a mind of its own. 

"Charming, isn't it?" 

"It is," you say emphatically, denying his sarcasm. "I've never heard anything like that. Lupine, like a fox?" 

"Wolf."

A server shows you to your table and hands you two leather covered menus. Leather, not plastic, a sign that tonight is going to be classy. You've dressed for the occasion in a smart blouse and slacks, too terrified of wearing a dress. Remus seems to have done the same as you, reaching for smart but dodging the mark in a button down and a casual jacket. When he takes off his coat, he looks perfect. He fits right in. 

"Could we get a glass?" he asks the server. "For the flowers? If it's not too much trouble." 

"No trouble at all." 

You run your hand across the silken tablecloth and the space between you both feels somehow smaller than when you'd been holding hands. Outside, you could let your gaze drift to the pavement, the fenced in trees, the couples that passed you by. Here, you're forced to watch one another. 

It's not so bad. It's agonising. 

"This is weird," you say. You flinch when you hear yourself. "Sorry, not that you're weird! I'm weird. I've never ever done this." 

"No, I know," he says, almost murmuring, "it's okay." 

"I just blurted out what I was thinking–" 

"I know." He sits back in his chair. His head tilts down, his eyelashes kissing the skin above his brows as he fixes you with a look. It has the intended effect, tension easing from your rigid spine and tight shoulders. "This is weird. But it's still early. It could get weirder." 

You like that he says it as if it's a good thing. 

You order the same thing he does, and you don't turn down his offer to get a bottle of wine, though it feels too grown up. You keep forgetting you're an adult, and that your life isn't on hold. Things can happen to you at any time. 

"I want to address the elephant in the room," he says. 

Not promising. "Okay." 

"Are we having dessert?" Remus leans forward on both forearms. Hair falls in his eyes. He's dressed nicely and he's handsome but there's something homespun about him, something golden. You can't help looking at him and thinking impossibly forward thoughts, cheesy waffle from the films. He's familiar. "Nobody ever wants to get dessert with me. It's actually a real issue for me." 

"I'll get dessert with you." A smoother you with more confidence, who wore the dress and asked him to go to the Thai restaurant instead, would've said something more suave. We're having whatever you want, handsome.

Remus flips the menu to the very last page and reads the desserts aloud. For himself, it seems, half-muttered and apprehensive. "Chocolate cake from places like this will either be the nicest thing we've ever eaten or burnt in the microwave. And it's childish that I want chocolate cake. I should be spoon feeding you creme brulee. Or whipped cream and strawberries." 

He tips his head back and rubs his eyes. It's a charade of feigned self loathing that makes you laugh. 

"I'm a child," he laments, thumb and index finger pressed into his eyes. He checks to see if you're watching before doubling down. 

"I like cake," you say, and you'd lie if you thought it was what he wanted to hear. Handsome, kind, and funny. Not to mention talented. He needs smart for the sweep. 

Remus falls out of his dramatics. You mourn the loss, beggy a good look on him, but forget all about it when he slides his chair around the table to share the menu with you, your heads inclined as you read it together again. He smells woody. You hope he likes the jasmine of your perfume. 

"It all sounds really nice," you confide, afraid to disturb the comfortable hush. "I haven't had gelato since I was a kid. Oh, did they have real gelato in San Marino?"

“They had a lot of stuff in San Marino… I want to hear about you.”

“What do you want to hear?”

The questions start and don’t stop. Where did you grow up? That’s the easy part. What did you study in school? Were you in sports? The art club? And what do you do now, when you aren’t working in the cafe? The more he asks, the easier it is to answer. He doesn’t slow when the waiter brings a glass for your bouquet, simply stands and places them inside with exceedingly gentle hands, smiling at you from between the stems. You eat slowly when the food arrives — you're busy talking. 

It feels fucking amazing. To have someone want to know anything about you. And unless he’s an actor of the highest regard, he’s obviously enjoying your conversations, though they wilt and wane and wind around one another. You lose track of time and thread as the night goes on, distracted by the near unnoticeable asymmetry of his smile, and the way he laughs when you laugh, like an echo. 

You get cake like he wanted. Triple fudge cake with buttercream thick but melting from the heat. It looks straight from the pages of a magazine, glossy and dusted with sugar powder, but he doesn’t seem to like it. He takes a couple of bites and leaves it alone. You don’t want to look greedy, so you do the same. 

The date is suddenly over. 

“Could I walk you home?” he asks, when you’ve both put your coats back on, and the damp roots of your flowers are leaving an imprint on your chest. 

You nod rather than answer. 

Things are good, not perfect. That’s what you keep thinking. There’s something he isn’t saying. Or, horrifyingly, something he doesn’t like about you. Still, the sky is velvet black and the air is crisp. Stars like needlepoints dot the air. Street lights work to hide them, casting a warm yellow glow over the pavements and your meandering shoes. 

A brisk wind whips past you. You shiver and press your lips together hard, hands quick to rigidity. Remus looks at you sideways, and breaks the quiet. “Are you cold?”

“A little.” No point in lying when he can see you trembling. 

“Do you want my coat?”

“No, no, it’s alright–“ You cut off as he steps in front of you, his hand vying for yours. 

He tucks the flowers under his arm and sandwiches your fingers between his. He has short fingernails, and another scar down one pinky finger. How’d you get that one? you want to ask. How’d you get any of them?

His breath clouds the air. “I should’ve thought about the cold.”

“This is better,” you say. Than a warm taxi home. His thumbs brushing down the backs of your hands. 

You walk to your flat building and hesitate at the foyer door. The potential for a kiss goodnight has flayed your thoughts. The image of his hands climbing your arms, holding you still, plays like a flickering film. You have no idea if he’s going to do it. 

“How will you get home?” you ask quietly. 

“I parked by the cafe, it isn’t far.”

“Oh…” The lights from your building paint him the faintest shade of pink. Your breath fogs out in front of you, as does his, and the warmth of walking will soon fade. “I–“

“Here,” he says, handing you the flowers again. 

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“Fits the recipient.”

It takes a second for you to get it. Oh, you think. You can hardly feel the cold now. Your heart hurts, and you’re begging him to want to take a step toward you. The silence goes for too long. 

“I– I’d love to see you again,” you say. Love comes out funny. Maybe because you can feel his rejection coming. 

“I won’t be here next week. Not for a long time. We’re touring properly, now.” He scratches the side of his face.

“Right. Right, of course you are. Um, good luck with that. And thank you for tonight, for dinner.” You wave your flowers weakly. 

He looks at you. He takes a half step toward you. You can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. 

“You really are pretty,” he says finally. “Goodnight.”

He smiles quick and turns quicker. You watch him walk a few steps but ultimately can’t face it, pushing into the foyer of your building with a hardset frown. Your hands shake, minute abstractions of the sharp rejection panging in your chest. Your ears roar and then go quiet. What did I do wrong? you think, shocked and upset and trying to rationalise. He doesn’t have to kiss you. He asked you out on a maybe, and now whatever question he had is answered. 

The door creaks open. You spin on your heel, too wrapped up to think about hiding your expression. Remus stands in the doorway of the porch, his arm pressed to the glass panel, the other held out to you. 

"Come here," he says quietly. It isn't a question, but he's asking. 

You step into his reach, letting him pull you by the waist against his chest. He leans down until his nose glances against ýours, and he starts to say something. You push your chin up in your eagerness and he doesn't try again. He kisses you, once, contrite, and he pulls back and his hand clasps your arm tight as he ducks in for another. His lips are fast to lose the cold of the weather, but his tongue is a hot shock at the seam of your own. 

You go weak in his arms. The flowers between you crunch and smother themselves. You can’t think about it. Your hands are numb. He takes over every one of your senses until you’re more kiss than thought, reciprocating his slow, deep searching. You run out of breath. 

He eases you backward, cupping the side of your head in his big palm. 

“I want to see you again,” he says hoarsely. “But I– I don’t know when I’ll be back.” His hand adjusts against your cheek, like he’s worried you’re slipping out of his hold. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I can wait,” you say. 

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

You rub your buzzing lips together, each heaven of your chest marked by the crinkling sound of cellophane. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?” you ask.

He strokes the edge of your mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?”

You kiss him. You don’t know if this will work, any of it, the broad stroke or this one night, but you want him. 

—

Remus doesn’t know what he’s doing. He knows how to fuck somebody, that isn’t the problem. He doesn’t know what he’s doing with you. The same thing that made him walk away had pulled him right back in, had him skipping steps on the staircase up to your flat, drinking in the back of your head and roll of your shoulders as you’d made apologies for the mess inside.

He doesn’t feel like himself when he’s with you. He thinks of it like this — what he is, his pain, his wants, that’s all set in stone. Any change is an erosion, and little by little over the years he’s managed to whittle himself down into the smallest, cleanest version of himself. Then suddenly the band’s making money, people are listening to his voice on the radio in countries all over the world, and he can’t hide anymore. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to, after all. What else inspires a performer into the spotlight? The music, he thinks desperately, knowing it’s half a lie. 

Isn’t it why he’d asked you to the show? Come and watch me sing. See me at my most impressive. My most curated. 

And now he’s following you into your bedroom after one date, about to strip it all away. 

“You didn’t have too much wine, did you?” he asks. You hadn’t really finished your first glass, but it won’t hurt to make sure. 

You peel your jacket off and drop it over the back of a wide armchair. “I don’t think so. Did you?”

“No.” His head has never been this clear. 

He thinks about what you said. This is your first date, and he’s not clueless enough to assume that never going on a date means never having sex, but he wants to be careful with you anyway. He wants this to last beyond a dinner date. 

Which means he has to get out of his head. 

Beyond all of his own mess, he really does think you're pretty. More than pretty. You’re beautiful, and your voice… 

He wants to see what other sounds you make. 

Remus gets his hands on you. Soft touches, his hands coasting from your elbows to your warming hands. He squeezes your fingers, leaning in for a quick kiss. He rests his nose against the skin beneath your eye. “Tell me if it’s too much?” he asks, a murmur of hot air. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ll go slowly.”

“Okay.” Your voice is barely audible. 

He pulls away to make sure you’re alright, and is surprised to see a glassy sheen in your eyes. He holds your face in both hands and works your lips open against his, guiding you backwards into the plush of your poorly made bed. He’s all sweet touches and eager kisses, cautious not to hurt you, or let too much of his weight press against your soft torso. His kisses follow to the corner of your mouth, the tip of his nose tender against your cheek. “You’re so quiet,” he says. He isn’t complaining, but he wants to hear your voice. 

“I’m a bit preoccupied.”

He laughs into your skin, kissing down to your jaw. “You’re right,” he says, revelling in the goosebumps that rise under his hands. 

Your shaking inhales cleave a pit in his stomach. He mouths at the side of your neck, half-kisses, tiny warning nips before he thumbs open the first button of your shirt. He meanders, dropping a path crescent moon kisses into your front until the fabric of your bra gets in the way. The soft hill of your breast staggers to a halt beneath him. He can tell that you’re holding deliberately still. 

Kisses. You need more kisses, an absolution from any lingering nervousness. Your hands thread into his hair gently, your fingers raking wavy strands behind his ears as you give in. You melt into your sheets, your legs parting from the pressure of his hips. 

Your hands fall from his hair to needle between your two bodies and undo the rest of your buttons. The fabric falls aside, your chest and tummy his to catalogue. He drops his hand against your stomach, smoothing a line down to your slacks. His lips ache against yours as he asks, “Can I?”

“Please.”

“Please?” he says back, mirroring your soft tone. “You think you need to say please?” His pinky bumps under the waistband of your trousers. There isn’t much give. He traces the lining to your zipper, fiddling with the small piece of metal as your eyes darken. “I should be the one saying it.” His voice keeps dropping, an utterance in the shell of your ear, his words for you and you alone. “I’m at your mercy, dove. Don’t say please with me. Okay?” 

He smiles at your daunted expression. “Can I take these off?” he asks you, his fingertip running under the edge of your underwear. “Please?” he teases.

Your skin is a furnace, hot hot hot everywhere he touches as you nod your permission and Remus undresses you, one piece of clothing at a time. Your trousers, your shirt. Your bra, your underwear. His fingers slip in his ardency as he tears out of his own button down. 

Your thumb traces a scar. 

He looks up from your chest, startled, but you aren’t giving him anything he doesn’t want. There’s no pity in your gaze, no curiosity, no sadness. Just lust, your trembling hands pulling his slacks down the lengths of his thighs. 

He pulls the condom from his wallet in his pocket and lets it fall to the floor. 

Remus hooks his hands under your arms and urges you back against the headboard, a pillow behind your head, your thighs tipping open as his hand runs down between them. He grabs at them greedily, handfuls of fat that have his mouth dry as a bone. 

“Has anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks. He needs to know.

You squeeze your eyes closed and shake your head. 

Fuck. “Hey, look at me,” he says, waiting for your eyes to meet before continuing. “I just want to make you feel good. If I don’t, you let me know.”

He waits for you to answer aloud. “I will,” you say, your hand behind his back and urging him forward. “Please.”

“What did I say?” he jokes gently, letting his weight bear down on you again. 

He closes his eyes, his lips in what feels like a new home at the juncture of your neck. His hands skirt dangerously close to your heat. 

He’s gentle. He rubs a sweeping line against your cunt with the front of his fingers, heart hammering fast as a mouse’s when he finds the little button of your clit. You shiver and shudder and squirm as he toys with you, your fingers steadfast against the plane of his back while he opens you up. His lips part in tandem, not nearly as kind as his hands. His teeth scratch against your throat. 

Your soft moans move through him as he hickeys over your pulse, chasing each capering thud of blood. He winds you up. You’re snug around his fingers, fluttering, and he knows he’s probed something sweet when your breath catches and you whine. 

“Was that alright?” he asks. 

You nod, heavy headed, and lick your lips as he tears open the condom and eases it onto his cock, one measured roll at a time. 

“Can you– I want you to–” You turn your face from him, the line of your jaw kissed by the lamplight outside, and the rest hidden. 

He drags you down to lay flat on your back and holds himself over you, nudging his nose against yours until you lift your head. Face to face, he gives himself time to adore the shape and colour of your eyes, the side of his hand brushing along your cheek. “Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sincerely. The slickness between your legs is obvious, but he doesn’t want to blindside you. “It will feel…”

You nod, saving him the explanation. It will feel weird. Good, but foreign. “Will you kiss me again?” you ask feebly.

He can’t stop himself. He kisses your lips sore, his hand behind the crook of your knee pushing your leg up toward your stomach as he slides into the space he’s made there. He breaks the kiss to listen to your breathing as he pushes forward.

Remus hadn’t been lying — he wants it to feel good. He takes it slow, his thrusting almost languid as you get to grips with the feeling. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, struggling to smother the moan that escapes him as he feels you clench around him. You gasp, your arms tightening around his waist, destroying any semblance of space between your sweat-damp bodies as you hold him tight. He murmurs praises in your ear, his forearms tucked beneath your shoulder blades, hands gripping your shoulders a touch too hard. He can’t remember the last time he was this close to somebody, can’t remember ever feeling so maddeningly lost, like he’s one good push from hurtling over the edge. 

He kisses your cheek, calling you all the things he’d been too scared to say before. “Lovely girl,” he pants, “how’s that feel?” And, when you answer, “Yeah, you’re taking it so well, dove. Think you can take a little more?”

All that nervousness and desperation shrinks down to dust, and the smiling girl he’d been with at dinner comes to the forefront. There’s no mistaking it. You giggle something awful and turn your face into his, kissing him between sounds, dizzying him with the tender scratch of your nails down his back as he starts to move. 

“There she is,” he says lightly, almost smirking. “Feel good?”

“Feels– oh,” —you shiver violently, filled all the way up— “feels good.” 

Remus let’s his forehead fall to your chin, his eyes closed in pleasure, his cock to the hilt. Every move he makes evokes a near sinful sound from you, mewling, silvery whimpers and pleased little laughs when he angles his hips right. He’s a mess, desperate to cum from the second you touched him and running on stolen time as he presses you deep into your mattress. One of your hands flies backward into the pillows and scrunches up into a ball, the look on your face too tempting to ignore. 

The first time you fuck someone — it’s never timed right. Remus knows he hasn’t quite figured you out, but he knows enough to get you where he wants you. He slides his hand between your bodies and your soft cunt to draw circles into your clit, entranced by your twitching lashes as the pleasure builds. You chase him with your hips, and he grabs your hand at the last second to stop you from covering your mouth, holding it above your head as you come apart. 

He cooes at you. The sound you make — the breathless little cry that leaves you, your hips jutting up to meet him. He’s at your mercy, just like he said. 

Remus fucks into the extra tightness, drawing your climax out for as long as he can. You’re smiling as you shove his arm away, a playful chastisement that wanes when you see the look on his face. “Are you close?” you ask, brushing a curled strand of hair from his eyes. 

Close? Remus is fucked. 

“You can go faster,” you say, “rougher, whatever you want.”

“Shit,” he hisses, leaning back. 

His rutting hips slap the backs of your thighs. He squeezes your waist, his eyes fixed on your cunt as it pulls him in. One last wavering, “Oh, fuck,” from you is all it takes for Remus to lose it. White hot pleasure tightens his whole body, his abdomen aflame. You scramble to gather him back into your arms. You kiss him, swallowing his resulting string of moans. 

He has to catch his breath afterward. You comb the hair back from his face, your eyes droopy with pleasure.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice stringy.

“Of course not.” You’re quickly losing your confidence. Remus hates it, but he understands. This vulnerability can only stretch so far. 

“Let me clean you up,” he says.

“You look like you’re gonna fall over if you stand.”

He strokes your face with the back of his ring finger, his nail ghosting along the highest point of your cheek. “Funny,” he says dryly. 

He gets confused in your bathroom, and you won’t let him towel you off, but when he lies down beside you with his boxers back in place you don’t push him away. You drop your face into his chest and curl up. 

He drags the quilt over your naked back. 

Was that okay? he wants to ask. “Sore?” he worries instead. 

“Don’t think so.”

He chews his cheek. “You’re alright?”

You stir, looking up at him through your lashes. He thinks you’re the kind of pretty people might not always see. You’re clearly beautiful, but there’s something else to it. The way you move, maybe. The way your eyes smile before your lips can catch up. 

“I’m fine. I’m good… Can I…”

He hums. “What?”

“Could I kiss you again?” 

You speak so quietly, he hears the vibration in your throat more than the sound of your voice. It’s endearingly timid. He feels his attraction for you flare violently. 

He wants to ask you to come with him to Cardiff. He knows he can’t. It’s yards too soon, but for a second he entertains the thought. 

“Wait for me to come home,” he says. He’s still asking for more than he should. “I want to see you again. You can kiss me as much as you want, if you say you’ll wait.”

You nod immediately. Not a flicker of reluctance to be seen. 

You lift your chin and kiss him. He tries to make it the kind of kiss worth waiting for.  

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging cos it helps more than you might think <3

[lewmagoo]

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part three: atmosphere

read the previous part here

series info: new parts will be uploaded every friday at 7pm est. want more? read the synopsis here. find the series masterlist here. listen to the playlist here. see the posting schedule here.

description: in which you decide it's time to stop running

warnings: 18+ only, heavy themes, mentions of character death, grief, angst with a positive ending, smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, inaccurate weather terms, please do not check my science lol this story requires some suspension of disbelief. i usually try not to say much about reader's family in fics but i do mention them having an unnamed great-aunt, as it was necessary to the plot

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

word count: 13,768

notes: this story is inspired by twisters. you do not have to watch the movie in order to understand this story, because aside from the storm chasing aspect, it has nothing to do with the twister universe. i've been working on this story for 2 months straight, and it is my pride and joy. i am so excited for everyone to read it! without further adieu, here is we own the sky!

“Let’s go.”

Without a moment of hesitation, you were running after Rhett, shoes thudding against hardwood. You stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind you. Together, you descended the porch steps, and you followed him out to meet the team.

They were all milling about, discussing their course of action. At the sight of you approaching, they stopped talking, watching in surprise as you flanked Rhett. Perhaps they were worried this chase would end like the last one had, but if they were, they didn’t show it.

“Hey! You comin’ with?” Jeslyn asked you, hazel eyes questioning. 

Attempting to smile, you nodded. “I am,” came your answer.

Zara caught your eye, and she stepped toward you. “Are you okay to keep an eye on the radar, or would you rather just observe from the sidelines?” She was offering you a choice. You could get involved hands on, or take all the pressure off yourself and simply watch.

You knew what you had to do. “I’ll watch the radar. I can do it this time, I promise.”

She didn’t question you. She didn’t display any shred of doubt. She simply nodded her head. “Okay. You can ride with Rhett, then.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she continued. “Rhett said he told you about Danny and Finn’s new trackers?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, he did. Are we using them today?”

She nodded. “Yep! Me, Jes and the guys will get them up and running so you don’t have to worry about that. They should give you a high resolution feed on the radar and let you see things a lot more clearly. We’re hoping the trackers will give us a way to predict twisters more efficiently than just relying on emergency channels for warnings. We’ll see how it goes today.”

Moments later, she was handing you the iPad you’d used last time. She gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna do great.”

You almost scoffed, but instead, remained stoic. “Thanks,” you murmured. 

She patted your arm before the stepped back to address the whole time. “Alright guys, let’s do this!” 

And with that, everyone climbed into their vehicles, preparing to run straight into the face of danger. You took a steadying breath as you settled into the passenger’s seat of Rhett’s truck once again, making sure to fasten your seatbelt before you unlocked the iPad.

You felt Rhett’s hand on your forearm, squeezing gently. He didn’t say anything, but you knew what he was trying to communicate. You can do this.

You could. You were sick and tired of letting your grief and fear control you. You would never be able to move on with life if you didn’t do something about it. This was in honor of your friends. Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. You were going to do them proud. 

In the meantime, however, there was a long stretch of land to cross before you met the storm. And in that quiet forty-five-minute drive along the wide open stretch of road, you were forced to come to terms with what had happened in the kitchen that morning. Or, rather, what had almost happened. 

You couldn’t stop replaying it in your mind as you stared out the window at the rolling Oklahoma plains. 

Beside you, Rhett’s mind was whirling a mile a minute, thinking about what had transpired in the kitchen. He’d almost kissed you. He was so close to feeling your lips against his for the first time in years, until the moment had been ripped away. 

Now, all that was left was an uncomfortable ache in his chest. A void that could only be filled by facing his feelings for you. What Amy had asked that morning struck a chord in him. It felt like a slap to the face, or a bucket of cold water dumped upon his head. 

He still loved you. As if that came as any surprise at all. Had there ever been a time when he didn’t love you? You were a permanent fixture in his life. His earliest memory was the two of you sitting in church together, no older than four years old. You had made a silly little stick-figure drawing of the two of you holding hands. 

He never forgot that. And as years passed, it sometimes felt as if your stick drawing had predicted the future. 

He realized he loved you when he was twelve years old and entirely too young to understand the weight and depth of true love. You were kind and understanding and you laughed at his attempts to be funny. You made him feel seen when no one else so much as spared him a glance. 

Through his greatest achievements, you were there. Through his rock bottom moments, you were there. You kept him steady when he couldn’t stand. You held him together when he was falling apart. Hell, you’d even physically held him together when he was gored by a bull and was certain he was going to bleed to death. 

You were there until you weren’t. 

And for the six years that you were gone, he tried to replace you. Found himself entering into the beds of girls he didn’t love, hoping to find a connection half as special as the one you shared. But nothing stuck. He realized it was because he never moved on. And maybe he was a fool for it, but he didn’t care.

Here you were now, in the passenger seat of his truck again, and he knew that he wasn’t going to let you slip through his fingers. He was going to fight for you, like he should have done from the very beginning. 

“Want y’to know I’ll be with you every step of the way out there, when the storm hits. You’re not alone,” Rhett assured you. He glanced at you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.

“I know,” you whispered in reply, mouth curving into a fond smile. “I’m glad you’re with me.”

It was his turn to smile, albeit shyly. “I’m glad, too.”

There were so many things left unsaid between you. Feelings that needed to be brought to light. But now was not the time. Not when you were driving into the eye of a storm and couldn’t afford to be distracted.

For the rest of the drive, not much was said between either of you. You were too preoccupied with what was to come. You kept your eyes on the radar, analyzing the storm. There was no guarantee that it would turn into a twister, but something in your gut told you that it would. 

The closer you got to Coal County, the darker the sky grew, and it seemed as if you were driving right into the belly of the beast. Lightning flashed in the distance, followed by the unsettling rumble of thunder. 

“Damn, look at that,” Rhett remarked. His eyes were wide with anticipation.

“Think it’ll give us our twister?” You asked.

He looked at the sky again. “It just might.”

Suddenly, Finn’s voice crackled to life over the radio. “We’re gonna get ready to send the trackers out soon. You should get better data on the iPad when we do!” 

“Alright, we’ll be ready when you are!” Rhett responded into the handheld device.

A wave of fear ebbed through you, cold and icy, as if you’d just been plunged into a bath of frigid water. With each passing moment, the sky became more foreboding. The fields surrounding you were churning, wind rippling through the stalks of green. 

Your heart rate picked up in your chest as you watched it blow in, angry clouds moving across the sky like an ocean wave. The kind of wave that would drag you out to sea, straight to your demise. 

“Stay with me, honeybee,” came Rhett’s gentle urging. “It ain’t here yet. Need you t’ get your head in the game.”

“I-I’m okay,” you promised. 

“Trackers are airborne!” Zara exclaimed through the speaker.

Reality was beginning to set in. There was no turning back.

Eyes locked on the screen, it didn’t take long for new info to be fed through, a notification popping up at the top of the screen. Severe weather approaching.

You looked to the sky again, focusing on the way the clouds were moving, the direction the wind was blowing. Then you opened the truck window, sticking your hand out to feel the breeze. The air was humid, yet electric. There was no doubt that a storm was coming.

You began counting down in your head. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. The first drop of rain slapped against your hand. Then another, and another. Quickly, you drew your arm back into the truck, jamming your finger against the button to close the window. 

Lightning splintered across the sky.

The rain fell harder, and within seconds, turned into a sheet of water, intense and heavy. Visibility dropped, and Rhett was quick to flip the headlights on, although it did little to illuminate the path ahead. 

“Here we go,” he breathed, voice trembling. 

Another notification came across the top of your screen. Tornado warning. Seek shelter immediately.

The rain gave way to hail, large pellets pattering against the truck. Your stomach dropped. Hands trembling, chest going tight.

“Okay darlin’. Need you to tell me where to drop the trailer,” Rhett urged.

The wind whipped against the truck, and you closed your eyes for a moment, pulling yourself together. You could do this.

It was difficult to see, but you did your best, eyeing the radar, glancing out the windows. Then you saw it. In the distance, amidst the wind and rain, a tornado was just touching down. With your heart in your throat, you leaned forward in your seat. You breathed deeply, closing out all the sounds around you. The roar of the wind, the rumble of the twister. 

You closed your eyes. Three, two, one. 

“Go right!” You cried. “If we wanna stay in its path, you need to get into that field!”

Without questioning you, Rhett veered to the right, directly into the cornfield beside you. You stared out the back window of the truck before you looked down at your radar again. “Keep going straight! We need to get a few hundred feet farther!”

Rhett slammed his foot against the gas, and the speedometer needle shot up, speed increasing with each passing moment. You reached out and grabbed the walkie-talkie, pressing the button and calling into the receiver, “Get ready! We’re about to drop the trailer!”

“Copy!” Came Finn’s voice, “we’ll be waitin’ for your green light!”

Letting out a trembling breath, you set the radio down, hand coming up to clutch the iPad in your lap, while your other hand shot up to hold onto the ceiling handle. The ground beneath the truck was uneven and choppy, and you were jostled about something fierce.

“C’mon, honey. We gettin��� close?!” Rhett called to you. 

“Almost!” 

His hands were clutching the wheel for dear life, knuckles white. His body was tense, shoulders drawn up toward his ears. Wild eyes glanced in the rearview mirror at the destruction that was quickly approaching. 

“Shit, it’s close,” he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. For a split second, he wondered if this was the most foolish decision he’d ever made. He wasn’t thinking about himself. He was thinking about you. If anything happened to you, he’d never forgive himself.

But now wasn’t the time to allow himself to be distracted by such things. Instead, he brought his full focus back to his driving, heart pounding in his chest, limbs vibrating with adrenaline. 

Then, your voice cut through the air, a desperate shout. “Now, Rhett!”

He slammed on the brakes, and you both lurched forward from the force. Gritting his teeth, he slapped his hand down against the control panel situated in the center console, hitting the button that activated the anchors on the trailer, sending them down into the soil. 

Then, he shoved his fingers into the button labeled release, and the hitch unfurled, detaching the trailer from the truck. The split second that it landed, Rhett thrust his foot against the gas pedal, mud and debris flying from beneath the spinning tires before the truck shot forward.

You snatched up the radio, eyes locked on the approaching tornado. It needed to be timed perfectly. The tanks needed to open up the second the twister was in range. As Rhett sped through the field, you held your breath, staring out the truck window, hand gripping the walkie so tight you thought it might shatter in your grasp.

It was coming. Closer, and closer, and closer. Wild and powerful, devouring everything in its path. Almost there, just a little bit further…

“NOW!” You yelled into the received. “NOW, NOW, NOW!”

“Copy!” Finn shouted back.

Rhett didn’t dare slow down. He kept going, determined to get you to a safe distance. He veered the steering wheel to the left, getting out of the path of the twister. As he drove, you watched, silently praying that the nitrogen would work. 

And then the vortex engulfed the trailer, and you squinted, but couldn’t see if it was working. You were so engrossed in the moment you didn’t even stop to let it register that you had finally faced your biggest fear. 

But Rhett saw it. He spared you a glance as he drove, and he saw not fear, but wonder in your eyes. For a moment, he was transported back to all those times you chased together. The excitement and adrenaline you shared. Nothing could top that. 

Despite the danger that was quite literally hurtling toward you both as he drove, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. Oh, how he’d missed this.

“It’s not working!” Jeslyn’s voice suddenly  cut through the speaker. “You two better get outta there, twister took some tanks with it and they’ll probably hit you guys if you stay in that field!”

Rhett grabbed the walkie. “I’m gettin’ us out. We’ll catch up with you guys!” 

He floored it, truck rocking as it raced through the field. “Hold on!” He told you. 

You clenched your jaw, bracing yourself. But that was nearly impossible, and you still felt your ribs collide painfully with the side of the door. At that point, you weren’t even watching the twister, you were merely trying not to get your head knocked against the window. 

You put your trust in Rhett to get you both to safety. And, much to your relief, he did just that.

Minutes later, the truck shot out onto the main road, and he kept going, headed east, out of the storm’s path. Once he was certain that he was far enough out, he stopped the truck, tires screeching against wet asphalt. 

As he threw the gear into park, he shoved the door open and jumped out. After taking a moment to catch your breath, you quickly unbuckled your seat belt and put the iPad on the dashboard before you climbed out of the truck after Rhett. 

You jogged over to him, where he stood near the truck’s tailgate, watching the tornado in the distance. It seemed that it was true. The nitrogen hadn’t done a single thing to tame the beast. But Rhett found that he didn’t care about that. Not when you were standing there beside him, alive and safe.

“Damn, those tanks didn’t do anything,” you mumbled in disappointment.

He shook his head. “I don’t give a shit about the nitrogen,” he said plainly.

You looked at him in confusion. “Why not?”

“Because, look at yourself! Y’did it, girl! You chased down a fuckin’ twister!”

It was then that you realized what had happened. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t let your trauma stop you in your tracks again. You put your nose to the grindstone and you conquered that deeply rooted fear that had been festering inside you for the last six years of your life.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, eyes wide in disbelief. “I…I did it. I actually did it!”

Rhett laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. “I knew you could do it. I knew it!”

You leapt forward, throwing your arms around his neck, and his own arms came up to encircle your waist. He spun you both around, all while rain and wind whipped around you. None of that mattered. And as he slowed to a stop, still holding you close, once again, you were the only two people in the entire world.

Your arms lowered, hands resting against his chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, heart racing like a hummingbird. You gazed into his face, so handsome and strong, so familiar and kind, and you knew that you would never leave him behind again.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe both of you did at the same exact time. Either way, you were leaning in without another moment of hesitation, pulled even closer together by that invisible string of fate. And this time, you let it tie you together as one.

You tilted your head back, and he leaned in, his lips mere inches from yours. Your eyes fluttered shut, anticipation mounting as he ducked forward. Oh so gently, his lips connected with yours, and you melted into him. Just for a moment, the grief, stress, pain, denial; it was all washed away, replaced with a feeling of all-consuming warmth.

What started out as a tender, tentative kiss blossomed into so much more. Heat sparked between you, the beginnings of what would soon turn into a wildfire. His big hands came up to cup your cheeks as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his heart into the action.

Your veins fizzed as if you were made of stardust and champagne. If you were a firework, you would be exploding across the sky in a million different colors. 

This was what it had always felt like to kiss him. A memory you had nearly forgotten until now. Sizzling and desperate, gentle and sweet. Neither of you had any desire to pull away, but your lungs said otherwise, and you were forced to part, breathing labored.

His pupils were blown wide, nearly swallowing the blue of his irises. 

A sob tore its way from your throat as you spoke. “I love you, Rhett. I love you so goddamn much. I never stopped.”

His chest heaved, and his mouth parted, silent words coming out before he could muster the strength to form them into syllables. “I love you too, honeybee. More ‘an I ever loved anyone in my whole life.”

You didn’t bother wiping away the tears that were pouring down your cheeks. “I’m sorry I left. I’m never leaving you again, you hear me? I’m yours forever.”

Unshed tears glimmered in his own eyes. He was too overwhelmed with emotion to utter a response, but that was okay. The only response you needed was him surging forward to kiss you again, tears and rain mixing as your lips met.

Finally, you were done running. 

When you parted again, you were made aware of how quiet it had become. You looked up to realize the storm had passed, and the twister was gone. The hum of approaching vehicles drew your attention to the road, where you were made aware of the rest of the team pulling up.

Rhett didn’t let you go, choosing to keep an arm around your waist as he turned to greet everyone. You felt as if you were on cloud nine, despite the slightly grim looks of your friends. 

“You guys alright?” Zara asked as she hopped out of the F150, boots crunching against the ground. 

“Yeah, we’re just fine,” came Rhett’s response.

“We stopped to check on the trailer,” Finn piped up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “That thing held up pretty well. Twister dragged it across the field but believe it or not it’s still in working order.”

“No shit?” Rhett was surprised.

“Yeah. Tanks went flying, though. We’re gonna have to see if we can find ‘em so they don’t end up sitting in some farmer’s field.”

“We can help look for ‘em all. Gotta figure out how to secure those better next time.”

“I think we also need to try something else. Maybe see if we can add some more nitrogen tanks,” said Jeslyn.

“How the hell are we gonna do that? There’s no room left on that trailer,” Danny interjected, lifting a hand to run through his silvery locks.

“Well, maybe we can bring in a second trailer,” she suggested. 

Danny sighed. “Okay, but how many more tanks of nitrogen will we need? We’ve gotta calculate all of it. Go back to OU and do some more tests before we just come out here blindly.” It was clear that he was irritated. “Besides, how do we even know if it’s gonna work? Feels like we’re fighting a fuckin’ losing battle here.”

“Hey,” Zara spoke, her voice clear and hopeful. “We’ll figure it out. We need to tweak some things, and that’s fine. No big deal.”

“Yeah, but how many more things can we tweak? We don’t have the budget for this shit, Zar. We’re just bleeding money at this point.” 

“Okay, let’s just take a breather,” came Rhett’s interruption. The two of you had simply been observing, waiting for the group to settle their own argument. But it was clear that tensions were mounting and needed to be diffused. “Look, it’s lunch time, why don’t we stop by the closest town, get somethin’ to eat, and put our heads together so we can figure all this out.”

Finn’s posture fell, and he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” He was already turning to head back to the RV.

“You’re right,” Zara agreed with Rhett. And then, for the first time in the last few minutes, she seemed to finally notice you, and she mustered a smile. “Hey, you did it! That took guts.”

You ducked your head sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“Really, it’s awesome. I’m proud of you,” Jeslyn echoed her wife’s sentiments, reaching out to pat you on the shoulder. 

Their encouragement meant a lot to you, and you accepted it gratefully, struck with a sense of belonging. A comradery. You were truly part of the team now. And it felt good.

“We’ll follow you?” Zara nodded toward Rhett, and he nodded. 

“Yeah, Phillips is the closest town. We can stop off there an’ eat.”

“Sounds good!” 

As everyone climbed back into their vehicles, you breathed out a sigh, catching Rhett’s eye. He reached for you, pulling you to him. “They’ll figure things out. They always do,” he murmured. 

“Yeah, I’m sure they will,” you agreed. He opened the passenger door for you, and you climbed into the seat, settling in as he rounded the truck and got into his own seat. 

As he put his seatbelt on, he looked at you, and his cheeks rounded as his lips curved into a smile. He couldn’t believe how quickly everything had changed. Suddenly, he felt like a lovesick teenager. The feelings that he had tried to repress for so long were finally allowed to come to the surface. Rhett never had been the most expressive person, but he simply couldn’t wipe the look of elation off his face as he drove toward the next town over.

The missing half of his heart had returned.

The ride into town was blanketed with comfortable silence. You could see in the horizon that another storm was rolling in, and as you took a gander at the radar, you saw that a string of storms would be hitting the area later that day, and into the night. 

You hoped the team wasn’t planning on going after any of them. After what you had just gone through, you were utterly drained, and weren’t even sure if you could handle another adrenaline rush.

Much to your relief, the afternoon was relaxed. You stopped to eat at an old family diner, where you ordered some comfort food and allowed yourself a moment of respite. Everyone else was discussing the plan moving forward, trying to figure out if an extra addition of nitrogen tanks would be effective enough to actually stop a twister.

Despite your background in weather science, you didn’t contribute much to the conversation, because you were content to just listen. But you were struck with an idea as Zara and Finn went back and forth across the table, trying to figure out the next course of action. 

“I just thought of something,” you said. “It might be a long shot, because there really isn’t that much research out there to support it, but what if, instead of just nitrogen, you added some CO₂ tanks to the mix? It might drop the air temp even faster. But, again, could just be a crazy idea on my part.”

Zara shook her head, dark curls escaping her bun and tumbling against her forehead. She hastily shoved the strands behind her ear. “No, no, that’s actually not a bad idea,” she agreed. “Back when we started testing out the nitrogen we did talk about using CO₂ but ended up deciding nitrogen was better. I dunno why we never considered using the two together, though. It might work!”

“It’s worth a try,” Jeslyn agreed, arms folded against her chest, her back slouched against her seat. 

“If we’re gonna do this, we’ve only got one more shot,” Danny said, expression grim. “We got lucky with the nitro tanks, what with my uncle working at the nitrogen plant. But he can only get us so much at a discount before we gotta start paying full price. That shit is expensive. We can’t afford to pay full price.”

“Then we supplement CO₂ tanks in between, so we don’t have to get as much nitrogen,” Finn suggested as he leaned over the table, motioning with his hands for emphasis while he spoke. 

“Yeah, but even if we use less nitrogen, it’s still pricey. We can’t afford to go into debt with this. I can’t, anyway. We need funding for this project, and the only way we’re gonna get it is if it actually works. Which means next time we go out there, we better actually stop a twister, or it was all for nothing.”

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” Zara finally announced. “We’ll go with your idea to test out CO₂ along with the nitrogen. Danny’s right, we don’t have the finances to keep buying nitrogen, especially at full price. So, we’ve gotta hope like hell that this next chase we go on is the one the experiment works on. Otherwise we’ll have to try to figure out how to get funding another way, and I just don’t think we’ll be able to.”

“So that means the next time we go chasing, it could be the last time,” Finn concluded.

Zara sighed. “Yeah, it could. At least the last time trying this experiment.”

“Pressure’s on now, isn’t it?” Jeslyn sighed, hazel eyes downcast.

“It’ll work,” Rhett said from beside you, offering his vote of confidence. He looked at Zara and Jeslyn. “If anyone can make it happen, it’s you two. Jus’ work your genius magic and we’ll be fine.”

The girls smiled at his encouragement. However, it was clear that everyone was tired of talking science, and the table soon faded into silence as all of you finished your respective meals. Another storm was rolling in outside, turning the sky dark again. 

Rhett glanced out at the sky as everyone stood and began readying themselves to leave the diner. “We should get goin’ before the storm hits. Might turn into another twister,” he remarked, wary of the incoming clouds.

You certainly didn’t want to be caught in another tornado, so leaving right away sounded rather appealing to you. You were quick to leave a tip for your waitress on the table, along with everyone else’s contribution, before you made your way toward the register to pay for your meal in full.

“I’ve got it,” Rhett spoke to you, stepping into your path, already sliding his wallet out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” you protested, holding up your hand to decline.

“Nope, s’my treat. Think of it as a li’l reward for chasin’ that twister.”

Who were you to deny him? With a shy smile, you relented, allowing him to pay for your meal. When he was done, you walked out of the diner, side by side, a feeling of peace settling within your heart. He opened the passenger door of the truck for you, and you swore you felt butterflies flutter to life in your belly. 

Nothing could ever take the charm out of the cowboy.

As you set off back toward the Abbott farm, the weather remained steady, rain cascading from the sky. You were grateful that the worst of it seemed to be behind you. It allowed you to relax in the cab of Rhett’s truck, cozy and safe.

You found yourself growing sleepy partway through, and you ended up with your head resting upon his shoulder. Beside you, he couldn’t ignore the surge of comforting warmth that traveled through his body. This felt so right. As if you were a missing piece to the puzzle, now comfortably slotted against him, in the exact place you were always meant to be.

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else, but during that drive home, he did travel quite a few miles under the speed limit, just to lengthen the tender moment. He was committing it to memory, every last second, because that was one thing he hadn’t done when you were together before.

He hadn’t lived in the moment as much as he should have. And when you left, that was one of his biggest regrets. Now that he’d been given an opportunity to make up for lost time, he wasn’t going to squander a single moment of it.

But eventually, he did turn into the Abbott driveway, tires crunching against wet dirt and gravel. And as the truck came to a stop, you were jarred from your slumber. With a soft hum, you lifted your head from his shoulder, squinting as you realized where you were.

“Welcome back to the land of the livin’,” Rhett teased.

“Wow, guess I was more tired than I thought,” came your groggy reply. 

“Chasin’ twisters’ll do that to a body,” he agreed.

As you stretched your arms out in front of you, you gazed out the windows. The rain had slowed, sleepy tip-tap-tips splashing against the glass. 

“Guess we should go inside,” you mumbled. 

“Guess we should.”

A beat passed. And then another. Finally, you let out a sigh and slid across the seat, wrenching open the door. Rhett followed suit, and you both hurried into the house, eager to stay dry. 

“Oh, thank the Lord!” Cecilia’s voice rang out from the kitchen as she rushed out to meet you. Her face was stricken. “You two scared me half to death! What are you thinkin’, not answerin’ your phone, boy?!” 

Rhett’s eyes widened, and he patted his pocket for his phone, retrieving it only to realize that it was completely dead. “Shit, ‘m sorry, Mom, I didn’t even think,” he was quick to apologize. 

“I thought for sure somethin’ had happened to you! I was worried sick, expecting a call from the sheriff tellin’ me you got yourselves killed!” She motioned wildly with her arms, tendrils of short brown hair falling from behind her ear and into her face. 

Her reaction was perfectly reasonable, considering all she’d lost. 

“Hey, hey, we’re alright,” Rhett assured her, tone low and even. He reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder. “We’re safe, nothin’ happened to us. Jus’ didn’t realize my phone was dead.”

You offered support, moving to squeeze her hand. “Yeah, we’re all good. Still in one piece.”

The woman nodded solemnly, placing her restless hands on her hips. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re fine. Of course you’re fine. I’m sorry, I just…I lost my head for a bit there when we got home from church and I heard about the twister that hit near Coalgate. I thought…” 

She trailed off, unable to voice it. 

“S’okay, Ma. I’ll make sure my phone is charged next time, that way y’ can get a hold of me.”

Cecilia managed a smile. “Good. I’ll, uh, I’ll try not to act so hysterical about it next time.”

“You aren’t being hysterical,” you told her. “You’ve got every right to worry.”

“Uncle Rhett?!” Suddenly, Amy’s voice cut through the tension in the air, and the nine-year-old came rushing down the steps, her golden hair flying behind her shoulders. 

Rhett turned just in time as the girl threw herself into his arms. He caught her with ease, lifting her off the ground. “Gramma said somethin’ might’ve happened! I was so scared!” She exclaimed. 

“Hey now, nothin’ to be scared about. I’m fine,” he promised his niece, leaning back to brush her hair away from her face. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Ames. You’re stuck with me.”

She managed a giggle as he tapped her nose. “Good. I’m glad you’re alright.”

You watched the tender moment, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled in your eyes. He was so good with her. 

When he finally let her go, he stepped back toward you, and you found yourself instinctively slotting yourself against his side in search of his safety and warmth. 

Amy caught on immediately, and her face broke into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “You are in love!”

This time, you grinned right back at her and said, “We sure are.”

As she jumped up and down and said, “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!” you looked at Rhett. There was this beautiful fondness in his eyes that you never wanted to forget as long as you lived. 

“You two want any hot cocoa?” Cecilia asked, a twinkle in her eyes, as if she’d always known you and Rhett would get back together. Perhaps it was mother’s intuition.

“Yeah, that sounds really good, actually,” you agreed.

“Ooh, can we put the colorful marshmallows in it?!” Amy inquired, hope in her voice.

“If you can find ‘em in the pantry!” Her grandmother told her, at which the girl scurried into the kitchen without missing a beat, eager to find the dyed confections.

As the pair busied themselves in the kitchen, you ducked out of Rhett’s embrace to take your damp shoes off. He followed suit, placing his boots on the rack near the door, lest his mother be frustrated with him for leaving them on the floor.

You ambled further into the coziness of the house, taking a seat on the tan upholstered couch that stood in front of the windows. The couch that converted into a bed for Rhett to sleep in each night. 

“Is the mattress in this thing comfortable?” You asked as you settled in. 

Rhett hummed, shrugging as he retrieved the old quilt from the back of the couch. “Yeah, I sleep fine on it.”

But surely it wasn’t as comfortable as his own bed. The one you had the luxury of sleeping in for the duration of your stay.

You could invite him to join you. 

Was that being too forward? After all, you’d only just rekindled your romance. Was inviting him to sleep in the same bed as you moving too fast? Or would it be like simply resuming where you’d left off. When you were together before, you’d spent more time in his bed than your own. Being with him in his childhood home felt like a safe haven. 

It still felt like that. Though, he was part of what made it feel like home. Without him here, it was just a house. A mere building. But bring him into the picture, and there was warmth, safety, and security. 

And that was why you thought about inviting him into bed with you that night. You yearned to feel the comfort of being wrapped in his arms as you slept. 

Dare you ask him to join you in bed that night?

“Do you guys want whipped cream?” Amy abruptly called from the kitchen, jarring you from your thoughts. 

“Please!” Rhett responded. You echoed his answer, letting out a breath as you shook your thoughts of longing away. 

He took a seat beside you, spreading the quilt he’d just grabbed over both your and his laps. Immediately, you were surrounded by warmth, and you let yourself sink back into the couch cushions, breathing a sigh of relief as the tension you carried began to slowly melt away. 

“Y’alright?” He asked, cadence low. “Been an eventful day.”

“I’ll say,” you agreed. “I’m okay. Just tired from the adrenaline crash.”

His knee bumped against your own. He left it there. “I know I already said it, but I’m proud of ya. I know facin’ that twister wasn’t easy.”

“Well, I know climbing back on a bull wasn’t easy for you, so I guess we’re even.”

He hummed, nodding his head. “Guess we are.”

Moments later, Amy and Cecilia entered the living room with mugs of hot chocolate, and soon, the four of you were huddled around the coffee table, enjoying the sweet, chocolaty drink as the rain continued on outside.

You let your walls down and embraced the domesticity of it all. For once, your body wasn’t in fight or flight mode, and you felt at ease. You could get used to this. 

When it came time to prepare dinner, you volunteered to help Cecilia, but after she learned that you’d endured a tornado chase, she insisted that you rest. 

“You’ve had enough activity for one day, hon. Y’ should take it easy,” she told you. 

This left you to sit on the hardwood floor of the home office, with Amy across from you and Rhett beside you, a jigsaw puzzle littering the space between you. You were quite enjoying watching his large hands put each small, fragile piece into place with such precision and care. 

He was so beautiful like this. Comfortable. At ease in his home, with his family. A life you had once dreamed of living with him. And now, you supposed it had become a dream of yours once more. 

You could see yourself in the future. A quaint little home, just the two of you. A simple, happy life. 

And that’s when you knew. Sitting there, watching him work on a puzzle on the floor, you knew everything was about to change. Your life was forever intertwined with his now, and you would be his until death did you part. 

That thought didn’t scare you. It filled you with so much hope, rising up inside you like water from a babbling brook. It was a beautiful feeling.

Later that evening, as you sat around the dinner table, you were beside him, shoulders touching, stealing glances at each other throughout the meal. Things felt lighter now. The tension was gone. 

“You two finally quit beatin’ around the bush?” Royal asked. His expression was neutral, but his eyes swam with humor.

Rhett squeezed your knee under the table. “Yeah. We did.”

“Good,” the older man said, nodding in approval. “She’s a good one, like your ma is. Don’t lose ‘er this time.”

The man beside you let his mouth quirk into a soft smile. “I won’t.”

“He’s stuck with me,” you agreed, placing your hand over his, which still rested upon your knee.

Soon after, when supper was finished, and the dishes washed, you found yourself in the living room again, curled up on the couch with Rhett by your side. Amy pleaded with her grandmother to let her stay up just a little later, despite her early wake-up call for school the next day, as she wanted to watch a movie with you and Rhett.

Cecilia made the exception, and it wasn’t long before the opening credits of Treasure Planet were playing. One of Amy’s favorites, Rhett informed you. But as the movie went on, you found your mind traveling elsewhere, hardly focused on the cartoon.

Instead, you were fixated on Rhett’s proximity. 

Your head was resting upon his shoulder again, and he was perfectly content with that. This felt more intimate than when you’d fallen asleep on him in the truck. Here, you were settled into the comfort of his home, cozy beneath a quilt that his mother had made many years ago.

It reminded him of the movie nights you would have when you were teenagers. You would trade off who picked the film, and he would often choose ones set in the horror genre, just so you’d have an excuse to hide your face in the crook of his neck during frightening scenes.

Here and now, curled up on the couch with you snuggled against his side, he was overcome with a surge of protectiveness. There was no doubt in his mind that he would do whatever he had to, just to keep you safe. 

“Looks like someone fell asleep.” Your whispered statement pulled him from his thoughts, and he glanced over at the floor near the television, where Amy had fallen asleep. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. The movie was nearly over.

Rhett hummed. “Guess I should take ‘er up to bed,” he murmured. 

Reluctantly, he rose from the couch, instantly missing your warmth. Stretching his extremities, stiff from sitting for so long, he stepped across the rug covered floor and stooped to gather his niece into his arms. 

She barely stirred as he cradled her close. He had this down to a science now. He was always good at making sure he didn’t disturb her sleep whenever he had to carry her to bed. 

From the couch, you watch with fondness as he handled her gently. He took her upstairs, stepping into her room and laying her in her bed. When the covers were pulled over her, he ducked down to kiss her forehead before he crept back out of the room and shut the door behind him.

As he did so, the sound of thunder rumbling through the distant skies reached his ears. Yet another storm was blowing through, it seemed.

When he made his way back downstairs, he found you in the living room still, folding the quilt that had been strewn over your lap. He watched you for a moment, taking in the sight of you tidying up the room. Oh, how effortlessly beautiful you were. 

When you caught him staring, you ducked your head shyly. “Thought I’d make myself useful and clean up a bit,” you said.

“Mm,” he hummed, lashes fluttering.

The way he was looking at you took your breath away. “Did you, um, get Amy to bed alright?”

“Yeah, she’s still out like a light,” he told you. 

“Good. I love how she insisted on staying up later, and still fell asleep,” you responded with a good-natured smile. Kids were funny.

“She always does that,” he agreed, “an’ every time, I carry her upstairs.”

“You’re good with her. She loves you,” came your next statement, tone full of fondness.

Rhett ducked his head. “I love ‘er too. She’s a special li’l gal. Ever since Perry and Bec died…I dunno, I’ve just felt responsible for her.”

“Well, she’s lucky to have an uncle like you.”

His cheeks rounded as he smiled, and your heart clenched in your chest. He was truly so endearing.

A moment of silence passed. Then another. The air between you was heavy, as if both of you wanted to say something, but were hesitating. You knew what you wanted. It was right there, on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak it.

Another crack of thunder rolled outside, and you jumped slightly, caught off guard. This seemed to push you to speak. “Well, I…I guess I’ll head up to bed.”

You swore you saw disappointment flash in Rhett’s eyes, but it was gone within a split second. “Yeah. Yeah, ‘m sure you need the rest after the crazy day we had.”

“Uh-huh. I’m pretty beat.” You padded across the rug covered floor, your arm brushing against Rhett’s as you passed. As if on cue, a flash of lightning illuminated the house, followed by the loudest crash of thunder you’d ever heard. The force of it rattled the entire house.

Both of you jumped, and you found yourself surging into his arms on instinct, holding your breath as you waited for the residual rumbling to pass. When it was quiet, you looked at each other, and you began to laugh silently.

“Jump scared by thunder,” Rhett mused with a grin, “didn’t see that one comin’.”

Your hands rested atop his chest, where you could feel the quickness of his heart. “Me neither,” you agreed.

Slowly, your gaze flickered to meet his. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth parted as he took in a breath. As another flash of lightning lit up your surroundings, something shifted between you. Warmth in your belly. Desire in your heart.

When your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, he knew what was going to happen. So did you. That was why you weren’t surprised with yourself in the least when you heard yourself say, “Do you, um…do you want to come upstairs?”

He leaned in, mouth just barely brushing against your own. “I do.” More than anything.

You let your eyes flutter shut as his lips captured yours. You swore, you knew exactly what it felt like to be a lightning bolt when he kissed you. Bright and alive, thrumming with raw energy.

“Please, I…” What were you asking for? Your tongue suddenly felt like lead in your mouth, and you couldn’t form syllables around it. 

Rhett sighed softly, his large hand coming up to rest upon the side of your neck. There, he felt your racing pulse, and his eyes widened. “I know, honeybee. It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” His tone was choked. Labored.

Your bottom lip quivered as you were suddenly so overcome with emotion you could hardly breathe. To your dismay, the only sound you could make in reply was a whimper. But, oh, if only you could have photographed the face Rhett made when he heard the sound.

His brow furrowed, and his jaw went slack. You swore his eyes grew darker. 

“C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.” He took your hand in his and led you slowly up the steps, your footfalls light so as not to alert the entire house of your movement.

With each moment, the closer you got to Rhett’s room, the faster your pulse raced. He guided you inside, carefully pushing the door shut behind you. You stood in the middle of the room as he moved to turn on the bedside lamp, swathing the room in a golden glow. 

You jumped slightly as yet another boom of thunder shook the ground, but Rhett was there within seconds, hand soothing along the expanse of your arm. He hooked his index finger beneath your chin, prompting you to look at him.

“Y’ want me to stop, just say the word, and I will.”

But you didn’t want him to stop. “O-okay.”

He kissed you again, languidly, lovingly, but with the mounting intensity of the storm outside, as well as the one currently brewing between you, it soon grew into something more. You parted your lips and allowed his tongue into your mouth, tasting each other.

Your hands rested upon his solid chest, and his own settled on your hips as he eased you back toward the wall. When you came in contact with the solidity behind you, you gasped. 

You were cornered, surrounded by him, his scent, his body heat. He invaded your every sense. And when his hands came up to rest against the wall at either side of your head, you felt so protected. 

His chest heaved slightly against yours, and he closed his eyes, gathering himself before he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Then the edge of your jaw. Down, down, down, to your collarbone. The bite of his day-old stubble against your flesh made you shudder, and you felt goosebumps raise in his wake. 

Tongue and teeth oh so gently grazed your pulse point, and he buried his face there, breathing in your scent. How was it that you still smelled the exact same after all this time? It wasn’t just your perfume. It was your entire chemical makeup, a scent so intoxicating it made him weak in the knees. 

“Can I take this off?” He asked, cadence low, fingers curling into the hem of your shirt. 

“Please.”

He lifted the fabric, tugging it off of you as you lifted your arms to allow him to remove it entirely. He took in the sight of you, in just your bra. You expected to find hunger in his eyes, and it was there, but there was something else. Deep adoration. Reverence. It made you feel as if you were going to dissolve into stardust. 

Feeling much too clothed, he decided to join you, leaning back to yank his shirt off, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a heap. 

In the lowlight, you caught sight of the tattoo of a bull and rider inked into the skin of his chest. Lovingly, you brought your fingers up to trace over it. You remembered so vividly the day he got it. You were there with him. 

Silently, you leaned forward, kissing the artwork. His breath caught in his lungs, and his lashes fluttered. You used to kiss that tattoo all the time. Especially when you were riding him. 

And then your tongue darted out to trace it, and he audibly gasped. Moments later he was pulling your face toward his again, kissing you deeply, desperately, teeth grazing your bottom lip. 

You were both a little frenzied as you pulled at each other’s remaining clothing. You unbuckled Rhett’s belt and he glanced down to watch you tug his jeans down his legs. Once he’d kicked them to the side, leaving him in a pair of blue boxers, he unbuttoned your own jeans, gazing up at you as he guided the denim toward your ankles. 

He squeezed your calf, and you lifted one leg, then the other, to step out of the pants. The only thing keeping you from being entirely exposed to him was the thin fabric of your underwear. 

You watched through hazy eyes as he began to kiss up your leg and along your inner thigh, palms resting upon your hips. When he made it to your underwear, he looked right at you as he kissed your clothed pussy, at which you moaned breathlessly. 

“Wan’ see this sweet li’l pussy. Will you let me see her, darlin’?” His accent had grown deeper with the rasp of his voice. It swam through your head and sent shockwaves through your extremities. 

“Y-yes.” You weren’t sure how you found it in yourself to speak. 

“Yeah?” Cautiously, he began pulling the underwear down your legs. Slow, slow, slow, all the way down until he reached your ankles. Once you stepped out of them, he was finally greeted with the sight of you. 

Deft fingers came up to part your delicate folds, touch featherlight as he began to explore. He was pleasantly surprised to find that you were already soaking wet. 

“Can’t tell ya how much I missed this. How much I thought about you the last few years,” he admitted before he leaned toward you, running his nose along your inner thigh before he left another kiss to your now bare cunt. 

Your knees nearly buckled, and he’d barely touched you. 

“You…you have?”

“Uh-huh.” His tongue darted out to taste you, and his eyes flickered shut. He’d be the first to admit that he’d conjured up images of you when his hand was wrapped around his aching cock. Your softness, your pretty sounds, the feeling of your slick warmth around him. He’d spill his release against his lower belly as he moaned your name into the confines of his bedroom. 

“I-I’ve thought about you too,” came your confession. Your head was spinning. 

“Oh really? You touched this pretty cunt while thinkin’ of me?”

“God, yes.”

Hearing you admit it had him twitching with need within the confines of his boxers. What he wouldn’t give to be inside you again. 

“S’much as I wanna eat you until you come all over my face, I think I need t’ be inside ya. Been too long.”

He rose to his feet, and he grasped your wrist, bringing your hand between his legs. You gasped at the feeling of his hardness. Had you forgotten just how thick he was? 

As he kissed you again, you eagerly dipped your hand past the waistband of his underwear. When your fingers curled around his shaft, he grunted in surprise against your mouth. 

Stroking him lightly, you took the opportunity to lavish affection on him, kissing along his jaw and neck as his cock grew even harder in your hand. Burying your face against the side of his neck, you took a moment to fully immerse yourself in the moment. 

This was real. You were here. In the very bedroom where you’d given yourself to each other for the first time. Now, you were together again, giving yourselves to each other not for the first time, but for the last time. Not because it would never happen again, but because this was the moment that you were acknowledging that you were it for one another. A way of pledging yourself to him, a silent promise that there would never be anyone else. 

It was you and him, for the rest of your lives. 

“Take me to bed, baby,” you whispered against the feverish column of his throat. 

How could he deny you? 

With one arm holding you close, he guided you to the bed. But then he paused, brow furrowing. “Didn’t think this through,” he murmured. “The both of us ain’t gon’ fit on that bed.”

“We’ll fit fine, it’ll just be a tight squeeze,” you replied. 

But he shook his head. “Nah. The way I wan’ lay you out and fuck you? I need more space than that.” 

His words sent a shudder through you, but you still managed a playful quip in return. “Then what do ya propose, cowboy?” 

“One sec.”

Then, he went around the room, gathering all the quilts from the rack on the other side of the room. He even yanked the covers off of the bed. You watched in amusement as he spread everything out on the floor, creating a makeshift bed, complete with pillows. It appeared to be a very cozy setup.

As soon as the last pillow was put in place, he straightened to his full height, gaze falling upon you once again. He reached for you, and you let him reel you in, guiding you toward him until your body was pressed against his. 

His eyes reminded you of a feline’s, narrow and sharp. The warmth of desire glowed within them, drawing you in, sending shivers down your spine. With a loving kiss, he whispered, “Lay down for me, honeybee.”

Your mouth went dry, and your breath came out raggedly. But you complied, dropping to your knees and crawling toward the pillows, where you then laid your head. You watched, chest constricting, as Rhett pulled his boxers down his legs and tossed them aside.

His cock, hard and heavy, bobbed between his thighs, and you audibly whimpered. You had forgotten how thick he was. The memory of what it felt like to be filled by him flashed through your mind. The delicious stretch. The utter fullness.

Above you, he wrapped his hand around his shaft, stroking lightly as he stepped toward you. Then he knelt, and you still couldn’t tear your eyes away from that gorgeous cock. 

“Look at me.” Quiet, yet commanding. Your eyes snapped up to his. “You gon’ let me make love to you, baby?” His hand traveled along your thigh, coming closer and closer to where you needed him most.

“Y-yes,” you peeped.

He smiled knowingly. “Need it so bad, don’t ya?” His voice was barely contained, trembling as he moved to hover over you. “I do too.” His fingers slid over your dripping center, and you gasped softly as they circled your little gathering of nerves.

Rhett moaned when he felt you pulse beneath his touch. As he dipped two of his fingers inside you, his mouth explored your chest, biting at the sensitive skin of your breast before he swirled his tongue around one pert nipple. 

You whined as his mouth latched onto the sensitive bud, your hand coming up to thread through his dark locks. You hadn't realized how turned you were until that very moment. But you could feel it now, dripping around his fingers as you clenched around them.

"Rhett, please, I-" You didn’t know what you were asking for. Your mind was swimming. Hazy.

Hearing your pitiful begging had him looking up at you expectantly.

"What do you want, darlin’?" 

"You. I need you. I-I can’t…I don’t…please, just…" God, you were spiraling with need.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he soothed, tongue licking into your mouth before he slipped his fingers out of you. 

You watched as wrapped his lips around the digits and sucked your desire off them. Your own mouth fell open at the salacious sight. 

“Mm, tastes just as good as I remember.”

He was hovering over you again, bracing himself with his hands against the floor. His gaze was so intense, but you couldn’t look away. When you felt his hard cock against your inner thigh, you shivered in anticipation.

“Honey, I…I don’t have any condoms,” he admitted, voice wrecked.

Maybe it was foolish of you, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were so close to having him inside you, skin to skin, after going so long without. You wrapped your arms around his neck and said, “I don’t care. Take me raw.”

Rhett grunted, jaw tightening, lashes fluttering as his pupils dilated. “Fuck. You’re gon’ be the death of me.”

You let your legs fall further apart, giving him full and complete access. But he hesitated, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. “Hold on a minute. I’ve got somethin’ that might be helpful.” 

He moved over you, toward his nightstand. Curiously, you watched as he rummaged through the drawer, and moments later, he held up a bottle of lube. 

“Thought I still had some of this.” He made his way back over to you, situating himself on his knees before you. “Wan’ make sure you can take it without me hurtin’ you.”

You watched as he carefully poured some of the lubricant onto his palm, and your breath hitched when he brought his hand down to his cock, coating it fully. In the soft glow of the lamp above, it glimmered on his skin. 

But he wasn’t finished yet. He poured more of the liquid into his hand, warming it before he lovingly smoothed it over your pussy, prepping you further. 

Then he knelt between your parted legs again, and your heart fluttered in your chest as he aligned himself with you. He slid through your delicate folds once, twice, then let his tip catch against your entrance, drawing a gasp of desire from you. 

When he began to roll his hips forward, your back arched, and you squeezed your eyes shut, relishing in every last second. Inch by inch, he slipped inside you. Arms braced near either side of your head, he held himself steady, grunting lowly as your velvety walls enveloped him. 

As he bottomed out, he let his head fall to your shoulder, where he remained for a few moments, gaining his composure. 

He couldn’t speak. If he tried, he knew his voice would fail him. He’d been rendered utterly speechless as he let it all sink in. This was real. He was here, now, on the floor of his childhood bedroom, with you laid bare beneath him.

For a few moments, you were both still, adjusting to the feeling of him inside you. Tears pricked behind your eyelids, and you focused on breathing deeply. For the first time in a very long time, you felt at peace. Here, joined as one with him. 

He lifted his head from your shoulder and kissed you softly before he broke the silence. “Y’ready?” He asked. Breathless. 

Whining softly, you nodded. “Y-you can move.”

Another kiss was left against the corner of your mouth before he slowly pulled his hips back, inch by inch, before rolling them forward again. You let out a broken moan, suddenly so overwhelmed by him. He swallowed the sound, mouth open against yours as he drew back again, only to fill you up all over again. Your chest heaved. The tears in your eyes finally made their way down your cheeks.

The drag of his thick cock was so slow it was almost not enough, yet too much all at once. You could only focus on him. His comforting warmth, his familiar scent, the pleasured sounds rumbling deep within his chest. 

Outside, the wind and rain wreaked havoc, but inside, you were safe, shielded by your lover, lost in the way he made you feel. You didn’t realize how much you’d truly missed him until this very moment. It hit you all at once, like a kick to the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs.

Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face against the crook of his neck as he moved. You breathed him in. Earthy, musky, and so familiar. You wished to bottle up his scent so you could have it with you forever.

“Missed y’so much,” Rhett spoke, voice trembling. He leaned back so he could look fully into your face. When he saw your tear streaked face, he lifted his hand and lovingly wiped the tears away with his fingers. “Can’t believe you’re in m’ arms again.”

Then he was kissing you deeply as he picked up the pace of his thrusts, causing you to moan brokenly into his mouth at the feeling. You threw your head back as he built a rhythm. Back and forth, faster and deeper. You felt so indescribably full. He didn’t want to ruin that closeness, so he kept his movements contained, barely pulling his hips back, moving in a pulsing motion. 

He was so deep that you could feel every ridge and vein of his cock, creating this wonderfully delicious friction within you. It took your breath away and made your head spin all at once. 

You let your eyes fall shut and you whimpered as he kept rutting into you, stretching you, fulfilling your needs in ways you never could have imagined. This felt right. Your bodies joined as one. One soul. One heart. 

“You feel so good,” you breathed, unashamed of the tears still streaming down your cheeks. “So good.”

Rhett could hardly utter a reply. He was breathless, his ever sense overwhelmed by you. Nothing else mattered. Here, on his bedroom floor, with you laid out so beautifully beneath him, he didn’t have a care in the world but you.

Again, he leaned back to watch you, in awe of the way you shivered and gasped, your body responding to him, releasing more of your slick around his cock. It sent a crackle of arousal through the base of his spine, and he pulsed inside you. You squeaked softly at the feeling, tightening around him.

He couldn’t resist stealing a glance at the place where your bodies met. His mouth fell open, eyes nearly rolling back. The sight of you stretched around him sent a jolt through him. “Takin’ me so well,” he sighed out. “Like you were always made to.”

You pulled his face back to you, urging him to meet your gaze. “I-I was,” you whispered in agreement. “I was made for you.”

“Yeah?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “You’re mine. Always will be.”

You tugged him toward you to kiss him again. “All yours.” 

With one hand braced against the floor, he brought his other down between your bodies, fingers locating your swollen little button, so sensitive to his touch. You whined out his name, back arching off the floor. He purposed in himself that he was going to make you come before he ever did, because he wanted to feel the way your sweet pussy fluttered and clenched around him as you fell apart.

The sound you made as he swirled his fingers against you was music to his ears. The sweetest whimper he’d ever heard.

He kissed your tears away, a loving gesture that only served to bring even more tears down your cheeks. 

As you looked up at him, you were overcome. It hit you like a ton of bricks, knocking the wind right out of you. You brought your trembling hands to his face, cupping his cheeks, committing every part of him to memory. 

The love you felt for him was so deep, so intense, that you couldn’t put it into words. All you could do was cry. And you did. 

He lowered his head, forehead resting against your own. He slowed down his pace just a little, and it made you feel impossibly closer to him. “Shh, I’m right here,” he soothed. “Don’t need t’cry, honeybee.”

“I-I-I just…I can’t believe I get a second chance with you.”

It was his turn to grow overcome with emotion. His eyes fluttered, and he let out a soft breath, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I know,” he whispered. His mouth was on yours, kissing you delicately, encasing you in love and devotion. 

His hand had stilled between your legs, but he soon resumed his movements, fingers swirling as he kissed you. How was it that you could feel such deep emotion and pleasure all at once? It felt as if your body might explode into millions of stars from it all. 

You wished that you were more eloquent. That you could find the words to tell him how you truly felt. But it seemed as if he already knew what was in your heart. Because it was in his, too. That all consuming love that he’d always had for you. Something that would never die. 

Everything had taken on a new meaning. This wasn’t just the two of you making love on his bedroom floor. It was the joining of two wandering souls as one. And you gave yourself to him as he kissed you. Pouring every part of yourselves into that kiss.

You felt as if you might float away. And yet, there Rhett was, anchoring you, keeping you tethered to the earth. To him. 

Beyond you both, thunder once again rolled across the night sky, your only reminder of the danger that lingered just beyond the walls of the Abbott home. It didn’t matter. None of it did. Not when you were sighing, trembling, weeping in his arms. Baring all the intimate parts of yourself to him. 

You were climbing toward that peak now. Even as your tears fell and you cried softly against his mouth, a familiar, enticing heat had begun to spread through your lower abdomen. 

Subtle at first, but soon, it began to spread throughout your extremities. From the top of your head to the soles of your feet. Rhett could feel it, too. The way you tightened and gushed around him. 

“Oh, honey,” he sighed. “You’re close, ain’t ya?”

At which you nodded, bottom lip quivering. 

“Poor thing. Don’t worry, I’ll get you there.” 

You let him take control entirely. You both realized that although you’d been apart for so long, he still knew your body well. For him, it felt like getting right back in the saddle. Natural. Comfortable. 

When he moved to switch positions, you let him, trusting him without question. He was gentle as he guided you up and into his lap, still nestled snugly inside you as he settled onto his knees. 

You were face to face, chest to chest, hip to hip. Now, as he held you in his big arms, it felt all the more intimate, if that was at all possible. He cradled you as if you were the most precious thing to him. And, truly, you were.

“Move your hips with me baby,” he urged, voice a whisper against your heated skin, dancing across your collarbone. 

With your arms strewn around his shoulders, you tentatively rolled your hips, and when it elicited a gasp from him, you were emboldened to build your own rhythm. There was nothing rushed or frantic about it. You simply took the time to enjoy each other’s bodies, as you climbed toward that glorious peak. 

His hand was between your thighs again, fingers pressed against you, swirling firmly, deliberately. He kept his forehead against your own, eager to watch your face. God, you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Your brow furrowed in pleasure, eyes going out of focus. 

And it was all because of him. It made his chest swell with pride to know he was the reason you were overcome with bliss. 

He kept his movements slow and even, so deep inside you that neither of you could tell where he ended and you began. You were certain that you would ache with emptiness once you parted, but for now, you were content to be in the moment and relish in the fullness. 

However, you were quickly beginning to lose yourself. Part of you never wanted it to end. You wanted to stay like this forever, the electricity of desire crackling beneath your skin, along the base of your spine. And yet, you also wanted so badly to come for him. 

“S’okay, honeybee,” he was struggling to form syllables, his breathing rushed. “Let go when y’need to.”

His lips were warm and open against yours, tongue laving at your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you granted. Moaning into each other’s mouths, losing yourselves in the moment. 

You expected your orgasm to hit you like a ton of bricks. Perhaps you’d have to bite down on his shoulder to suppress your scream so as not to wake the entire house. What you didn’t expect, however, was the opposite. 

It didn’t hit you hard and sudden. No, it was gradual. Like the spark that started the wildfire. So small, yet able to grow into something so wild and unkempt. You felt it in your lower belly first. As if someone had taken hold of the very core of your being and tugged, like a rope being pulled taut. It wasn’t long before the delicious warmth began to spread further into your extremities. 

You were a live wire, thrumming with electricity. “Rhett,” you heard yourself gasp, and you buried your face against the crook of his neck as you began to tremble. 

He spoke again, but you couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in your ears. The range of motion between you was so minimal, and yet it was sending you toward cloud nine. Slow, deliberate grinding, building and building and building until you knew you were too far gone to hold yourself back. 

Then he was tilting your head back, hand cradling your neck as he sighed into your open mouth, “Come for me, sweet darlin’.”

And you did. 

As it ebbed through you, you were engulfed in the most comforting feeling you had ever experienced. You locked eyes with him, and he watched in amazement as you unraveled. Your face contorted into an expression of raw, unabashed pleasure. 

It ebbed and flowed through your body, rising to meet you like the warm waves of the ocean, heated by the summer sun. 

And you smiled. A wide, blissful smile as you shuddered in his arms, wholly and utterly satiated. It was as if part of yourself had been missing and was now found. You felt complete and fulfilled in a way that mere mortal words could not describe. 

As you floated down from your peak, Rhett was barely holding it together. With trembling hands you held his face and kissed him, rocking in his lap, knowing that he, too, needed to reach his end. 

“I love you,” you gasped as you moved, shivering from sensitivity as your puffy center brushed against the base of him. 

He let out a high-pitched keen, deep in his throat, and squeezed his eyes shut. “S-say it again,” he sighed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. 

You picked up your pace, knowing he was almost there just by the pulse of him inside you. “I love you.”

This time, his head fell back, his mouth open to let out his broken moans. He was so close. It clouded his every sense, consuming his being. “Again. Please. Say it again.” If he wasn’t so wrapped up in the moment, he might have marveled at the tears that had begun to roll down his cheeks. 

With one hand still holding his face, and your other arm now wrapped around his shoulders, you cried out, “I love you, I love you, I love you!”

His own hands immediately came up to grip your hips and he let out the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. A cross between a groan and a sob. He had to muffle it by hiding his face against your shoulder. 

You felt it then. The warmth of his very essence spilling into the deepest part of you, claiming you, filling you to the brim. You took it all, slowing down until you finally rested still against him as he shuddered from the aftershocks. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, bodies intertwined. After a while, you felt him begin to soften, and gravity took over as his spent cock slipped from the confines of your slick heat. 

And oh, how empty you felt without him there to fill you. However, all at once, you were content. For the first time in a long time, you felt alive once again. 

As the afterglow settled in, Rhett lifted his head and offered a sheepish smile. “Was that alright, honeybee?” The tips of his ears went pink. 

You hugged him close. “It was everything I needed,” you replied with honesty, punctuated with a loving kiss to his lips. “You’re everything I needed.”

The look of pure adoration in his face made it all worth it. 

You weren’t sure who initiated it, but soon, you’d switched positions and settled against the mound of pillows and blankets, with your head resting against Rhett’s chest, right over the place where his bull and rider tattoo was. 

His fingers traced patterns along your spine, as your own fingers trailed absently over the expanse of his chest. You knew that you should eventually move and get cleaned up before you fell asleep like this, but neither of you wanted to break the spell. 

Rain pattered gently against the window. It seemed that the storm had begun to fade, leaving behind a quiet, sleepy earth in its wake. 

“Did’ya ever think we’d end up like this?” Rhett spoke into the comfortable silence of the room. 

You hummed. “Before I came back, I didn’t.”

His fingers stilled against your back. “When did it change for you?”

“The night of the rodeo,” came your reply. 

“For me, it was the first time I saw you after you came back. Brought all these feelin’s back that I tried to ignore. But then I held ya when you jumped outta the truck durin’ that twister. And then I, uh, saw you when you ran out the bathroom to grab a towel.” Mirth was in his tone as he said the last part. 

You couldn’t help but smile. “God, I was so embarrassed about that,” you admitted. 

“S’alright. Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” He resumed the gentle patterns against your back with his fingers. “I sure am glad I got to see ya naked again, though.”

You lifted your head and slapped his chest lightly. “Hey now,” you scolded, humorously so. 

His mouth curved into a good-natured smile. When he leaned in to peck your lips again, you eagerly accepted the kiss. 

But it was soon time for the conversation to turn serious. Rhett’s lashes fluttered, his eyes growing misty. 

“I gotta ask…what does this mean for us? Because I need y’to know, I’m serious about you. We ain’t two kids fresh outta high school anymore. If we’re doin’ this, I wanna do it right. I want to make this relationship work. But only if you want that, too.”

You let out a soft breath, absently tracing his chest tattoo. In your heart of hearts, you knew what you wanted. “I do want that. I’m not about to walk away from you again, I promise you that much. But I’ve gotta figure out what I’m doing with work. I don’t want to go through a long distance thing.”

His brow furrowed slightly as he placed his warm hand over your own, giving it a squeeze. “I could…I could move to Maryland with ya.”

You met his gaze. “You? Leave Wabang?”

“What? I could do it.”

“You’d hate the city, Rhett. You’d hate living in my one-bedroom apartment. I know you love this place and it’s where you’re happiest. You don’t need to sacrifice that on account of me.”

“Doesn’t matter where I’m livin’, as long as I’ve got you.”

Your heart clenched at his words, and you nuzzled your nose against his. “I’ll figure it out. But I want to make this work, more than anything.”

“So do I.” Rhett was willing to go to the ends of the earth, if it meant he got to be with you. If he had to move to the city to do so, then so be it. 

For now, he was content to share this moment with you, bodies entangled on his bedroom floor. It reminded him of days gone by. And if only for a moment, he could close his eyes and go back to that time. When you were young and in love. When his brother was still alive. When life felt safe and hopeful, as if nothing bad could ever happen. 

But it did happen. The bull riding memorabilia that currently surrounded you both was a reminder of what he’d lost when he took a horn to the gut. The first bitter taste of reality he’d gotten as a young man. Little did he know that just a few years later, he’d lose three of the most important people in his life, and that injury would feel like a mere paper cut compared to the agony of grief. 

How far both of you had come since then. You’d conquered your fear of storm chasing. He’d conquered his fear of bull riding. And it had brought you both together again. 

The truth was, you’d needed to go on your own respective journeys of healing so you could return to each other as better versions of yourselves. 

“I guess we should get cleaned up,” your sleepy voice pulled him from his thoughts. 

He smiled, lips brushing against your forehead. “Guess we should. I’m about t’ fall asleep on this floor, and I know I’m gonna regret it in the mornin’ when my back is fucked up.”

Reluctantly, you sat up, immediately missing his warmth as the cool air rushed over your skin. Rhett stood, his knees popping slightly as he did so, and he reached for your hand, pulling you up with him. 

The evidence of your combined releases was slick against your inner thighs, and you were reminded of what you’d just done. The way he’d just made love to you. It sent a rush of warmth down your spine. 

“I’m all wet,” you murmured shyly. 

Rhett grunted softly. He could see the milky white glistening on your skin, and he had to avert his gaze, because he knew he’d wind up taking you all over again, and you were both much too tired to withstand another round. 

“I…I can help clean ya up?” He offered with an earnest smile. 

You decided to take him up on that, which led to you both sneaking across the hall and into the bathroom, where Rhett so lovingly wiped you clean. It reminded you of the past, where he had been so eager to learn how to care for you after sex. It had been a learning curve for both of you, being each other’s firsts. It had been such a special experience, one that you cherished to this day.

“Y’ready for bed now, honeybee?” He asked, once you were clean and had brushed your teeth. 

You nodded, and together, you tiptoed back across the hall, feeling much like your teenage selves, trying not to get caught by Cecilia whenever you’d sneak into Rhett’s room in the middle of the night. 

When you were safely closed into the confines of his bedroom again, you both scrambled to pick up all the pillows and blankets so you could settle into bed. 

“Ain’t much room in the bed. Guess we’ll have to snuggle up real close,” Rhett said with a grin. 

You stepped into his warmth, kissing his jaw. “I’m fine with that. Reminds me of all the times we used to squeeze into this thing together.”

Rhett was more than happy to have someone to cuddle up to again. His bed had been empty for far too long. And as he climbed beneath the covers that night, your body curled against his own, a sense of peace washed over him. 

You nestled your head against his chest, and he felt a sense of protectiveness overcome him. He would watch over you while you slept. You were safe with him. You always would be. 

When he fell asleep that night, his dreams were filled with flashes of your beautiful face, and he slept better than he had in years.

-

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[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞

word count: 2.3k exactly (i'm very proud of myself)

genre/tropes: established friendship, one-sided love (or is it?)

warnings: slight angst

pt two: here

notes from bambi: thank you to everyone who voted for this idea, sorry it came out late please forgive me 🥺

“Can we please get out of here,” Chris grumbled, pulling his beanie down over his face.

“So dramatic.” I tugged my wallet out from under the covers. “Come on.”

“We’re goin’ to Cane's, we’re goin’ to Cane's.”

“You’re chanting again,” I said as I closed the garage door behind us.

He opened my car door, slipping past Matt’s van. “God forbid a man has hobbies.”

“Sure, but you’re not a man.” In true gentleman fashion, he scrunched his nose at me. “Buckle up, weirdo,” I laughed.

We drove in comfortable silence. Darkness had sunken low over Los Angeles, though the city tried its best to keep the light around forever. Apartments glittered up into the night, cars rushed past, and from my speakers, a Travis Scott song thumped rhythmically underneath it all.

As we drove, I rested my left hand atop the steering wheel and touched his arm with my right. Chris looked over with his eyebrows raised. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” I said, glancing away from the road for a moment to meet his gaze. “I just think you’re cool.”

“Thanks, kid,” he replied with a grin, looking back to the road. Is he shy? There’s no way.

I drove the rest of the way with my hand resting on his forearm, which he had helpfully rested on the center console. 

“Who’s paying,” I murmured, turning the car slowly into the parking lot.

“I got it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you drove, it’s fair.”

“Mkay.”

Walking into Cane's was always a religious experience for me. Voices milled around us as college kids found groups of friends and joined tables together, children ran around begging for more lemonade, DoorDashers ran out with food, and order numbers were called out over the fray. 

I sighed. “There simply aren’t enough places where I can get good food for less than ten dollars.”

“Facts,” Chris said. “You want the same thing?”

I nodded and laid my head on his shoulder while we waited in line. Normally not the touchy one in our friendship, something felt different about tonight, I felt different–more open, relaxed. Safer.

That is until he leaned over and pretended to bite my scalp. 

Giggling, I pushed him away to fix my hair and he chuckled, looking up to the menu. My stomach tingled.

“–and that’ll be all. ‘Preciate it,” Chris said, taking our cups and moving to the drinks station.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Whaddaya want?”

I filled my cup and surreptitiously watched him fill his. Chris’s arm tensed in the harsh downlighting and the ridges of his veins became ever more prominent. I shook my head to erase the thoughts as though I were some kind of Etch-a-Sketch. I need to chill out.

Chris carried our food out to the car and I tossed him my keys. The parking lot was pretty empty–most people went through the drive-thru. I stepped over a curb and let my body swing around, arms flowing lazily at my sides. The air didn’t feel as heavy at night, even here in Smog City. I felt awake and content with being alive.

“What are you doin’?” Chris leaned against the car braced on one arm, watching me with a half-smile.

“Dancing, clearly,” I huffed, lifting my arms above my head for another turn.

“I’m gonna eat your fries,” he said with a shrug. At my shriek of protest, he snatched the bag of food and ducked into the passenger seat as I tore after him. I slammed the door behind me and fell into my seat, reaching out for the bag. “Give it, jackass!” I yelled with a wide grin. Chris pulled it into the air which caused me to collapse on his lap. 

“I give up,” I groaned and laid there with my nose in his stomach. 

“So dramatic.” He ruffled my hair again. “Sit up, I’ll get your food.” I looked up at him through the stray hairs he’d created and he looked right back. “What?”

I smiled and sat up, situating myself in my seat again. He paused before handing me my box of chicken and fries. “Did you get extra sauce?” I asked.

“Yeah. I think?” He rifled through the bag as I stole a fry from his box and returned to my own. 

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“You’re not slick.”

“yOu’Re NoT sLiCk,” I harped. “I’m just a girl.”

“Just a thief, maybe.”

“You wound me.”

“Don’t steal my fries then.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. Chris tilted his head in disbelief, and promptly proceeded to return the favor. 

We munched in the quiet for a while. It felt peaceful, and not awkward at all. Chris could come across that way when he didn’t talk, but he actually enjoyed silence sometimes–it gave his mind time to catch up to him. 

“Chris, look,” I murmured, pointing. A group of girls staggered through the drive-thru, laughing their heads off.

“Ooh, okay,” he said, putting his drink down and shifting in his seat. “Here we go.”

Our favorite game–coming up with stories of the people around us. We were the worst people to go to the airport with. 

“So, girl in the pink.”

“Definitely planned the whole outing.”

“You think so?” I sipped my drink.

“You can tell because she’s the most wasted.”

“Drinking to forget the annoyance–I can sympathize.” Chris so graciously bestowed upon me a side-eye of putrid proportions, and I pretended to ignore him completely. “My turn.”

“Cool Shirt Girl.”

“Dragged out of the house by the Dress Girl. Would much prefer being at home or doing something more chill than bar-hopping.”

“Oh, they’re bar-hopping?”

I studied the group for a moment. “Yes.”

“Noted.”

“What about Miss Bandana, what do we think about her?”

Chris sat up straighter. “She’s cute.”

“Not the point.”

“So you also think she’s cute.”

“I plead the Fifth. What’s her story?”

He stared unabashedly for a long moment before he spoke. “She doesn’t think she belongs with them.”

I blinked. “Defend your answer.”

“What is this, English class?”

I cut my eyes at him, he smirked, and continued. “Look at how she’s walking, she’s not having as much fun as everyone else but she wants to, look, she’s adding to the conversation, she’s making sure Pink Girl doesn’t fall over…but she’s not starting anything new to talk about, she doesn’t seem super confident. But no one who wears a bandana is shy so it has to be her insecurities about this event in particular, or these people in particular.”

He bit his chicken tender in half thoughtfully.

I sat agape. “Where the hell did that come from.”

“Hm?”

“That was a wild amount of description. And…probably very accurate, now that I think about it.”

“I love these games,” Chris chirped as he settled back into his seat cushion. 

“You’re so goofy,” I responded. “Hey Chris?”

“Yep.”

“Why’d you wanna go out tonight?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you want to get out of the house tonight?”

He shrugged, still looking at the restaurant in front of us. 

My eyes narrowed. “You left me a two-minute-long rambling voicemail about how bad you needed to see me.”

Chris didn’t react–or at least, not in a way a stranger would notice. His breath changed its pattern, he shifted his feet on the floorboard, and his grip on the armrest tightened. I waited quietly, holding my gaze on his face so he would know he wasn’t off the hook.

He took a deep breath. “I…wanted to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I said softly, sipping my drink.

“How do you know if you love someone?”

I choked on the liquid in my throat. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Like…” he huffed a sigh of frustration. “Like what does love even mean?”

“Well, I think–”

“And how does everyone just know? What does it feel like to be in love? How can you trust that your feelings won’t go away over time? And why am I so scared of it? Who decided what love meant? Why were they the expert, what did they do to be so “in-the-know” about love anyway? Because it’s like–”

“Chris.” He was panting now. “Breathe, kid,” I said, touching his arm again. “Do you want me to answer your questions and give you advice, or do you just want me to listen?”

“No, I want to know, I just…It’s annoying. I hate feeling stupid.”

“And you feel like…you’re stupid when it comes to love?”

“Yeah. The romantic kind.”

I hummed. “You seem to have family love figured out pretty well.”

“Well sure, but I got lucky with Nick and Matt,” he sighed. 

“I think romantic love is basically the same.” He looked at me quizzically. “It’s like…Love, to me, is waking up every day and choosing that person regardless of what the day is gonna throw at you. Like if your channel disappeared tomorrow, you wouldn’t ditch your brothers. If your parents died, you wouldn’t leave Nick to deal with it on his own, you wouldn’t ignore how that affected Matt, you know?” Chris nodded thoughtfully. He looked at the dashboard but I realized his mind was probably very far away from the physical attributes of my car. I went on. “Love is different for everyone, so you may not agree with what I think about love, but someone will, and that’s probably one of the people I need in my life. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Chris answered quietly.

“Also, don’t feel stupid. I don’t know fuck-all about math, but does that mean I’m…I don’t know, ‘less-than’ other people who know more about math?” He shook his head and I laid a hand gently on his forearm. “Romantic love is such a small part of all of the love there is in the world and I really think you sell yourself short by placing so much value on people’s knowledge or experience with it. You’ve never been in a romantic relationship before, right? So how would you know? There’s nothing wrong with that, seriously. I haven’t either, does that mean I’m dumb?” Chris grinned at me and I turned away to hide my smile. “Don’t answer that, you dick.” He threw his head back in a laugh, at which point I rolled my eyes so hard it made my brain hurt. “Anyway…” I huffed, trying and failing to appear annoyed, “You’re doing great in the love department. I wouldn’t worry about it at all.”

He nodded and seemed to be satisfied with my answer. “You want a fry?”

“Yes.”

Chris pulled one from his bag and held it out to me. I tried to take it but he snatched it back and held it higher. “Come on, I thought you said you wanted it.”

“Jackass.” I opened my mouth expectantly. Chris placed the salty fry on my tongue and wiped his fry-oil-covered fingertips on my chin as I closed my mouth. I tried to bite him and he yanked his hand away.

“Down, girl.”

“Grrr.”

“Thank you.”

“Hm?”

“For earlier. That helped.”

“Good,” I said, letting the humor filter away from my features until (I hoped) only kindness and empathy remained. “I’m glad.”

A beat of silence passed, during which I turned back to my own food.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

I looked up at him. Chris’s eyes were not on mine. “I love you too, Chris. You mean the world to me.”

“I’m not sure how I love you.”

I sensed he had more to say, so I waited, brows crinkled.

With an anxious inhale, he continued. “I don’t know if it’s…family love or…something else.”

“That’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

I squeezed his arm. “It is.”

A pause.

“Come here,” I said. I gathered Chris into my arms and he pulled me tightly against him, our torso’s separated by the center console. He smelled like cold spices and the mountains. “I care about you,” I whispered, gentle as I could possibly be. “Whatever form that takes.”

His hand slid up and down my back, pressing hard against me–like he was desperate for something, or feeling emotions he couldn’t articulate. 

“You are…very cool.”

I chuckled in spite of myself. “Thank you, Christopher.”

“I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I replied in a more serious tone, squeezing him tight. He returned the favor, and he would continue until his arms ached and his chest begged for relief. We did this sometimes, in moments of great emotion. The words Chris knew could not equate to the sentiments Chris felt, so sometimes we just held each other until we couldn’t anymore. It had only happened twice before.

When he finally loosened his grip, I rubbed his shoulder and leaned back into my chair. “Was that what you called about?”

“Partly,” he said. “Also we haven’t talked so I just wanted to know if you were like…good.” He chuckled. “How’s your love life?”

“Nothing to report.” Liar.

“...That’s good.”

“Yeah.” Say something.

“You wanna head home?”

“Sure!” Say anything.

“Cool.”

I started the car. The engine roared to life as I adjusted my seat and reversed out of our parking spot. 

“Thank you for…all of that,” Chris said.

“You’re welcome,” I murmured back, looking anywhere other than his eyes. He couldn’t see the tears in mine–I wouldn’t let him. Chris didn’t need my drama right now.

We drove home with more music than conversation. I dropped him off and watched him walk inside, the boys’ massive garage door sliding down behind him. The car idled in the street for a while as I stared into the darkness. 

My phone buzzed in the cupholder–a text from Chris.

iMessage from Orange Juice:

   come over more often

   i missed hanging out with you

   you’re a rly good friend

Thanks <3 you too i guess, I typed, ignoring the hot tears that spilled down my cheeks. 

pt two: here

idea inspired by the following track:

request to be on the taglist under this post right here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews @sturniolo-rat @mattsmad @sturniolo04 @bellasturn @blahbel668 @yomamaslays4lyfe @stasiesturn

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

You’re shown to a room of your own. It’s a luxury in your line of work. You often share the back of the truck or some cramped space with your boss. You look forward to a night without Syverson’s rumbling snores. 

As you remove your harness and vest, a knock thumps on the door. You answer and find a man with a pile of fabric in his hands. He gives it to you without a word and leaves, a rifle across his back. You frown and shut the door. 

The accommodations are acceptable. There’s a bed, a side table, and a fan. Nothing fancy but better than a cot or a car seat. Or your favourite, the ground. 

You hold up the patterned swath of silk and let it unfold. The long caftan is cool and sheer. It might not be your usual attire but it’s preferable to your dusty cargo pants and sweaty cotton shirt. You shake out your clothes as you undress then throw the swishy fabric over your head. You feel almost human. 

Another pounding comes at the door. You hear a snort as you approach and know before you answer it, who it is. Sy waits on the outside. He wears the same thing he showed up in; dirty cargo and camo. He blinks at you dumbly and grimaces. 

“What the hell is that?” He flicks a thick finger at you. 

“What?” 

“What’re you wearing, Iz? You look like my mammy.” 

“Shut up,” you jab him and turn back. You push your feet into your boots and tramp back to him. He chuckles at the clomp of the heavy soles. 

“Naw, I mean it, Iz, you pack that get-up or what?” 

“No, it was... given to me. I don’t know.” You cross your arms and look down with a shrug. “I thought... Well, it seemed nice.” You look up and narrow your eyes. “Wait, why’re you bothering me anyway?” 

“Hungry, ain’t ya?” He scoffs. 

“Sure.” 

“So come on, I’ll show ya the mess.” 

You cluck and step out into the hall. After settling from the jump, your stomach has turned ravenous. You wish you were at Retro’s, gnawing at hot wings and downing martinis. Alas, you have work. Well, you’ve had worse than this. 

“Thank,” you grumble. 

He’s quiet as you walk through the halls. Others pass or follow in your stead. He toys with a flap on one of his many pockets. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Mm? Oh, yeah. Kinda.” 

“Get that adrenaline kickin’ and you sleep like a black bear in winter.” 

“Well, I don’t know about that,” you chuckle. “Maybe you though. You’re pretty good at it.” 

“Good at what?”  

“Sleeping through the b—chaos,” you keep yourself from swearing. 

“Ah, I guess. Not much of a skill.” 

You shrug. He can be awkward sometimes. Mostly when he talks. When you first started, he didn’t say too much, now he tends to force himself too. 

“Here we are.” He points you to a door. 

You peer down the hall and step out of the way of the men in civvies milling around. Sy opens the door without knocking and nudges your lower back to urge you inside. You stumble in as a figure stands to greet you. Conrad smiles and tilts his head. 

“I don’t like to presume things about you Americans but it is rather uncourteous not to knock,” he reproaches. 

“Eh,” Sy grunts. 

“Then again, it is you,” Conrad snickers back. He moves around the table in front of him. There’s a bottle of wine and glasses, a few cans of beer, and food that isn’t served in tin or vacuum seal. “And you, I do hope the attire suffices. It was all I could scrounge, I regret.” 

“Uhhh, it’s good. Er, pretty.” You look down and touch the silk. 

“Feel free to take it with you. That colour is immaculate on you.” 

“Ha, er, thanks.” 

Sy marches forward and claims a seat with a huff. He shows no patience as he reaches for the dish of seasoned chicken. You come forward and Conrad rounds the table to pull out another chair. You thank him as you sit and your brutish boss glances over at the gesture. 

“Shiraz? Does that suit you?” Conrad grabs the bottle wine and a glass. 

“I’m not picky,” you assure him. 

“Yes, but I hate to leave a women disappointed,” he winks and pours you a glass. 

“What’s in here?” Sy interrupts as he holds up a bowl. 

“Olive? Rosemary, bit of red vinegar. How about a brew, eh?” He grabs a can and offers it. 

“I’ll have what she’s havin’,” Sy insists through a mouthful. 

“You may help yourself. As you have done.” Conrad clunks down the bottle between your and Sy’s plates. 

He sits and offers to serve you before he does himself. You don’t mind the attention though it does strike you as a bit overdone. You have an extra scoop of curry as the aroma drives you mad. 

Conrad watches as you taste the wine and Sy slurps from his own glass. Your boss tuts and puts it down heavily. He scrapes his plate loudly with his fork as you only just start to poke at your own fare. The other man is uninterested in the meal as he stares you down. 

“Please, you must tell me, how did you end up here at my table?” Conrad purrs. 

You chew slowly and look over at Sy. He narrows his eyes and shovels more food into his mouth, a dribble catching in his beard. You stir the rice with your fork. 

“I applied on a job board and interviewed and--” 

“Ah, that sounds rather proper. Syverson, I thought you more the type to snatch up beautiful women.” 

“Hm?” Sy grunts around a mouthful. 

“And yet, a creature like this should be cozened. To have her jumping from planes? Tsk tsk. Oh, don’t tell me he’s had you living on beans and sleeping in dirt.” 

“Her job...” Sy sneers over. 

“It’s exciting, actually. My old job was just the same desk, same walls. I couldn’t even get the time off to go parachuting for fun so... not so bad.” 

“Thrill seeker? Mmm, that’s intriguing. Have you ever been rock climbing? Not in a gym but on a real mountain?” 

“You got barbecue sauce?” Sy interjects. 

Conrad laughs again. He stands and goes over to the footlocker against the wall and opens the lid. He pulls out a bottle of a southern brand of sauce. The same you stocked for Sy. Hm. 

“I have to be prepared for anything, not least of all the way you get when you’re hungry.” Conrad struts back and sets the bottle at Sy’s elbow. “I must admit, I wasn’t ready for you, darling.” He sits again and you’re certain there’s a low growl from your other side. No matter the perks, managing men is never simple. 

[whatyadrawin]

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -Chapter 14

Minors DNI!

Masterlist

Approximately 4,989 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings:  Sexual language and depiction of sexual acts, foul language, brief PTSD scene, mention of reproductive choices. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.

A/n: See the end of chapter for a special authors note since I dont want to spoil anything here. I feel pretty good about this chapter, the art has some sloppy work because I was passing out while working on them so please be nice, I hope theres no typos or weirdness in the edited writing either because I was also passing out for that. The censored image can be viewed raw on my google doc (By clicking that link you are consenting to seeing graphic adult imagery and you are over 18). Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.

Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.

Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa , @baybaybear1 , @amour-tae , @dij-ology , @jillian-mill

Chapter 14

                The day started with you getting a phone call from the contractor, he informed you that your house was fully repaired and ready to move back into; You immediately got changed and walked over, highly excited to see the finished work. You arrived quickly, opening the heavy wooden door where the smell of fresh paint and new wood filled your lungs. The sun’s rays lit up the rooms giving the home a cheery appearance, as if it was happy to see you.

You slowly made your way through the entrance to head straight for your room, when you passed through the doorway you felt a knot form in your stomach, the memory of the fire was making you feel fear as if you were experiencing it all over again. You let the anxiety hit you to really feel the emotions fully, you figured if you could handle the ghost of the past then you could strive to overcome it.

Within a few short moments, the feeling passed but the cortisol surge remained. You left the bedroom and sat on the couch in the living room exhaling deeply as you reclined. You looked out at the large storage container that you had yet to completely empty, it was costing you to keep it on the property and felt like a constant reminder of how new you still were to this country.

The entire day was spent emptying out the storage crate to fill up your home. Extra clothes and furniture found their place in every corner of the house, by nightfall you managed to get your bedroom and bathroom to look mostly normal again. The fire destroyed your bed and stained the wardrobes with soot, some floor lamps were melted and unusable as well as your window curtains.

-Looks like I need to buy a new bed and some furniture- You thought about how nice you could make your room, and what curtains to buy to cover the bedroom window with. -I think it might be good to invest in some security features too while I’m at it- Dover’s attack on you affected the way you felt when you were alone, it was now pertinent to have visibility from many angles and access to view them at any time in case someone tried to hurt you while you were unaware again.

After ruminating on your fears, you locked up and left the house, the moon was now high in the sky and you realized you hadn’t eaten all day. When you left and got to the end of your driveway, you saw headlights shining up the road heading in the direction of the Hewitts house. The driver gave a honk and when you squinted to look, you recognized the truck, it was Charlie.

He pulled up next to you and reached over to unlock the passenger door,

“Get in ‘fore you get ate by a coyote” he said through the open window.

You smile and hop into the passenger’s side of the truck; the seat is rough edged from wear and scrapes the exposed skin on your leg as you slide onto it. You shut the door and thank him for picking you up,

“Are there really coyotes around here?” You asked

He smirks, “Well now, ain’t a whole lot of wildlife really comin’ ‘round here no more.”

You wrinkle your brows, “Must be lucky then eh?”

He chuckles and raises his eyebrows, “Somethin’ like that”

You roll your eyes and give a tight-lipped smirk, you knew it wasn’t luck, if anything it was a whole lot of bad luck that accumulated on this land brought onto poor hapless victims taken from the outside world just to feed the starving Hewitts. This land really was a world of its own, it felt like you were existing in another universe, the remoteness didn’t help much with that either.

“What’s ‘at look for?” he was obviously trying to sleuth out your expression.

Your eyes widen and you quickly face the open window to prevent further incriminating looks,

“Nothing” you hope he would drop it, but he continues,

“You’re bein’ real suspicious ain’t ya? Somethin’ I should know ‘bout?”

You reply with a hint of annoyance in your voice,

“Oh my Goduh, nothiiiiiiiiing” -that should throw him off-.

Charlie laughs and changes the subject,

“You gon’ move back into Tilly’s house now that it’s fixed up?”

You continue to look out the window,

“Yeah, I have been bothering you guys long enough.”

He quickly replies, “You was never no bother girly, I know Luda Mae’s gon’ be real upset seein’ you less. She sure hates an empty nest.”

You didn’t think it would be that much of an impact, you felt like a total leech living there for as long as you did,

“I’m sure she will be relieved having less cooking and housework to do…she never let me help.”

Charlie laughs, “That woman? She’s been feelin’ like a mother again what with doin’ all the women’s work. Was always her happiest when she was carin’ for the boy. Obsessed with motherhood, guess it’s normal for womenfolk to think like that.”

You roll your eyes, you had become used to the way Charlie spoke about women in the time you lived with him, but it was still obnoxious to hear such outdated ideals in modern day.

Charlie puts his arm up on the bench seat, he gives you an inquisitive look, he asks,

“You think like her at all?”

You sigh, “Isn’t that a bit personal?”

He sucks his teeth and looks at the road, he continues,

“Shoot girly, it’s just a question.”

You remain quiet for a few seconds before responding, “No… it’s never really been a goal for me.”

“Huh.”

You replied, already feeling defensive, “What?”

“Just never encountered a ‘no’ from a woman regardin’ kids is all.”

Instinctively, you began preparing to hear the usual patriarchal bullshit thrown at women who choose a different reproductive path. You prepare the counter arguments in your head, you cross your arms and say,

“Ok, lay it out then, tell me how I’m going to change my mind someday or whatever. Let’s get it over with”

Charlie lets out a confused grunt, he turns to you laughing,

“Sweetheart, I couldn’t give two shits ‘bout you not wantin’ to get knocked up. Only reason I bring it up is ‘cus I heard some foolin’ around in the basement the other day.”

Your eyes widen and you tense up with embarrassment, he laughs again,

“Now don’t get yourself all twisted up ‘bout it, s’about time that boy got some tail.”

Your muscles relax a bit, you couldn’t help but blush at your seemingly private exploration being heard. He continues,

“If you n’ the boy are gettin’ that serious, I feel I need to warn you that he’s got no bullet with the blast”

Your nerves wanted out of this conversation, but your curiosity made you dig for information,

“How would you know something like that?”

“Tommy ain’t our blood, Luda Mae found him in a dumpster behind the meat packin’ shop she worked at back in the day. Was a large thing, that boy, t’was clear the momma didn’t want nothin’ to do with him so she tossed him like trash. He was uglier ‘n hell as a baby, not much different than now.” He laughs. “But he ain’t right, somethin’ in his dang blood made him grow into such a fuckin’ beast, made him stronger than any man I ever knew.”

The road was coming up on the house now, you wanted to know more, so you turned to fully face Charlie and asked,

“Being big and strong doesn’t make someone infertile…”

Charlie smirked as he parked the truck near the wheat field and shut off the engine, he leaned his head at an angle to look at you without turning his body,

“Girly, you remember we told you ‘bout the infection fuckin’ up his face?” You nod,

He continues, “He was in the hospital a few weeks getting’ medicine. If he was a normal kid he woulda died. The doctor told us he had some, uh… dang what’d he say now?” Charlie ran his hand through his hair as he thought, “I dunno what it was, somethin’ ‘bout his blood bein’ shitted up n’ to not expect any grandkids, specially with all the drugs they dun gave him. Luda Mae was real upset; I didn’t give no fucks long as he’d help ‘round the farm, and boy did he get useful.”

He got out of the truck and started walking to the house, you sat there mulling over the information you were given. -If he is infertile… No need for protection I guess- The thought of finally being able to safelyhave raw unprotected sex made you hot with lustful fantasies, sex was hard to fully enjoy when you always had the underlying fear of pregnancy looming over you.

You entered the house and made your way to the kitchen where you saw Luda Mae in a nightgown pouring from a teapot. She turned and saw you, a smile immediately formed on her lips,

“You been away all day dear, did you eat anything?”

You shake your head and walk closer to her, she continues,

“Just as I thought. I saved you some dinner in the fridge there, you can heat it up in the oven which is already preheated for you.”

She sets down the teapot and says,

“Did you get a lot done dear?”

You open the fridge and find a large plate filled with comfort food, you respond,

“Thanks for saving me dinner, you didn’t have to.” She smiles at you, and you continue,

“I got a ton of things done, I’ll be out of your hair once my bed arrives”

Luda Mae’s smile sank, you could tell she didn’t want to hear you were leaving. She saw you looking at her expression and quickly changed it back to a smile, saying,

“Well, that’s good for you dear, but don’t go feelin’ like you have to leave right away now. Take as much time as you need.”

You feel her hand gently placed on your upper back, she gives you some comforting rubs and you tell her,

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be over a lot. It’s just that the orchard needs someone there to care for it, and it’s a big job.”

She nods, understanding the need to get back to normal,

“Alright hun, you eat whatever you like and get some tea from the pot there. I’m headin’ to bed now but if you need anything, just knock on my door.”

You thank her again and she walks up the stairs. You see Charlie come in after her, he went straight for the bread buns in the basket on the counter.

“You headin’ to bed girly?”

You shake your head, he stuffs the bun in his mouth and begins to leave,

“thya ‘omarro” His words were muffled by the food he was chewing, you wished him a good night and listened to him walk up the stairs to his room, his footsteps thudding more quietly with each step.

You put the plate in the oven and let out a big sigh as you sat in the chair, you weren’t tired despite being busy all day. The thoughts of Tommy unloading his orgasms into you were energizing, you sat there feeling the ache between your legs gain intensity. -he must have gone to sleep by now, I better get changed out of these sweaty clothes-

You made your way to the bedroom and threw off your shirt and shorts, you took off your bra and exhaled in relief letting your breasts experience natural gravity again. You picked out a purple oversized T shirt that reached your knees, you felt immediately comfortable and paused before you left the room. -Might be fun to feel a little breeze as I eat dinner, everyone went to bed anyway- you quickly slipped your underwear off and tossed it near your bed, you blushed as you made your way to the kitchen giggling to yourself about the bold idea.

You step back into the kitchen and turn off the oven, you leave the plate in there to soak up the last bits of heat so it doesn’t have any cool pockets to ruin the meal. You turn and open the side door that leads to the porch, your bare feet touching the smooth wood floor. The moon was bright and lit up the land, you looked out at your home up on the hill, it was a barely visible white blob sitting lonely on the hilltop watching over the orchard.

You wondered what this town was like when it was busy, there weren’t many buildings around that you saw when you reached the gas station, but you also never drove up the road past the Hewitt house; as far as you knew, there was just tall grass and an evil man’s hiding hole.

The night air was refreshingly cool, it brushed under your shirt and tickled your naked body which felt invigorating. Back home it was rare if the nights were warm enough to stand outside half dressed, but you also didn’t have a large private porch to lounge in either.

Suddenly, a glow of warm yellow string lights lit up from the roof of the porch illuminating a large man standing in the doorway. It was Tommy, he bent down to avoid hitting his head on the doorframe and closed the door behind him. You were shocked to see him, and were now very aware of the fact that you were completely nude under this shirt, you almost missed the fact that he was shirtless.

You pull down your shirt to ensure it isn’t somehow lifting up and making your lower region visible,

“I thought you were asleep?” you ask

“Heard y’come in, wanted t’check up on ya” he spoke softly.

He moved next to you, putting his massive arms on the railing and leaning forward to look at the land. You felt nervous being so close to him with your secret hiding under the thin fabric of your shirt. -Why am I nervous? I was in a pond with him naked for gods sake!- Despite your previous escapades you still felt giddy at the thought of him discovering your hidden nudity.

You try to divert your nerves with conversation,

“Thanks for teaching me how to defend myself, it feels better knowing I might stand a chance now.”

He nods at you and smiles with his eyes, his dark mask hiding his damaged skin, you noticed his pushed back hair was wet and when he moved closer you could smell the fresh scent of a masculine scented soap, it was intoxicating. You shake your head a little to snap yourself out of it,

“S-so were you going to stay up here a while? I need to get my dinner out of the oven if you want to hang out as I eat.”

You quickly make your way to the kitchen hoping to escape his alluring scent, it was flooding your mind with wicked thoughts about his arms squeezing around you like a python while he fucked you. -god damn, why does he have to smell so good, and look so good, and be so fucking massive and hot!- You argued with your thoughts, you wouldn’t be able to try playing with him while Luda-Mae and Charlie were just one floor away, too risky, but you didn’t want to be obvious by pulling him downstairs.

You were wise to his antics, and you remember when he said “I’m gon’ start messin’ with y’now”he made sure you understood he was going to torture you with desire. He followed you into the kitchen barely being able to pass through the doorframe, you try to ignore him, you were onto him and wanted to see what he would attempt.

“I’ll get that for ya” he reached down into the oven without oven mitts and grabbed the plate without flinching, he sets it down on the table in front of you then reaches to get you a fork.

You touch the plate and it stings with heat,

“How didn’t that burn you?”

He shrugs, “Thick skin I guess”

He takes a seat next to you and hands over the fork, you thank him and begin to eat. He leans back in the chair and relaxes as he watches you, he then asks,

“That house o’ yers is done huh”

You nod, eating hastily not realizing how hungry you were. He continues,

“Y’gon’ move on out then?” His voice was vibrating the plate on the table from the low timbre.

You swallow the large ball of food in your mouth and reply,

“The orchard hasn’t been properly tended to in a while, I have to keep those trees alive and… Tilly made it a clause in her will.”

He crosses his arms and nods, leaning back and looking away,

“Won’t see much of ya ‘round then I s’pose”

You put the fork down and sit back, a serious look on your face, he looks over at you and notices the shift,

“What’s amatter?” he asks.

You look him in the eyes, “I wanted to run something by you actually”

He shifts in his seat and places one arm on his thigh and the other on the table while his torso was turned to face you,

“Y’can ask me whatever y’want”

A tiny smile hits your lips from his words,

“Well, Dover didn’t really teach me about caring for the trees. I figure I can read up on it and do my best to learn everything I can but…” You paused, you clenched the edge of your t-shirt bottom before finding the courage to push out the question, “I want to know if you knew anything about caring for orchards, and maybe, if you did… you could teach me the basics until I can do it myself”

Tommy was quiet, he put his hand to his chin and was deep in thought, you got nervous and added,

“Y-you can say no its ok, I know it’s a big ask since you already do so much around here, I just thought it would be nice to… spend more time together is all.”

He leaned back in the chair, it creaked under his weight,

“I’ll help ya. I dunno a whole lot ‘bout orchards but, I helped Tilly when she needed it, she taught me a thing or two”

You smile, “I’m really glad”

You got up to put the leftovers away, Tommy followed and stood up to open the fridge door from behind you as you placed the food back inside.

When he shut the fridge door, he kept is arms around you fencing you in. You spun around to look at him, he was towering over you, his steely blue eyes gazed at you through heavy lids. He moved his hand to gently caress your neck and trailed it under your jaw, lifting your face to look in his eyes.

“Y’don’t need no excuse to get me alone” his voice was smooth and enshrouded your mind making you feel a wave of arousal flood your body.

“Oh Yeah?” you speak in a breathy whisper.

He nods slowly, you touch the thick leather of his mask and say,

“What do I need to do to see your handsome face then?”

He hangs his head down and laughs, he lifts his head and brings it close to your face,

“Go ‘head then”

You excitedly remove the mask revealing his gnarled old wound that exposed his teeth through his cheek, the more you got to see his real face the harder you fell for him.

“Still likin’ what y’see?” he asks.

You smile and lift yourself up to his face, you look into his eyes and slowly move in to kiss his lips. He lets out a muffled hum as he kisses you back, you press in harder and lift your hands to cup his face, his stubbles was shaved off to a clean finish. You forgot how wonderful his lips felt, the kiss quickly became heated with passion, both of you began to breathe more hastily.

Tommy put his hands on the sides on your body, slowly moving them downwards until he reached where he wanted to. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and lifted you up onto his chest so your face was the same level as his, you stifled an excited squeal when your body lifted into the air so effortlessly.

He smiled and kept you in his arms while kissing you, you threw your arms around his neck to keep your body leaned forward past his bulky pecs to reach his face. You felt his hands move inwards towards your weepy slit. He was trying to get a more stable grip so you could sit comfortably, but when his fingers discovered no underwear, he stopped kissing you and gave you a devilish grin,

“What we got here?” he spoke through a chuckle

You blushed and bit your lip remaining quiet, unsure of what to say,

He kept tickling your labia with gentle flicks of his fingers, your breathing hastened and you suppressed a moan with your hand over your mouth,

“Bad girl, y’need to go to yer room huh”

You nod, “Put me there”

 He moves his mouth close to yours, but when you lean in for a kiss, he slowly pulls away grinning. He carries you through the porch door, entering sideways and leaning down to avoid hitting his head. He stops when he reaches the double door leading to your room, he turns around and places you on the railing of the porch which is wide enough for you to sit comfortably.

“Why did you set me here?” you ask.

“I aint givin’ in so easily” he grumbles through a smirk

“…do you want me to beg or something?” you laugh.

He gives you a smug look, “Maybe”

“Oh please, I can keep myself under control. No amount of flirting would make me want to be-“

He cuts you off by gripping your hips and pulling your body close to the edge of the railing top so you were flush against his warm torso. You huff defiantly until he presses his erection onto your cunt, your abundant juices coated the fabric of his sweat pants. You let out an unexpected moan and quickly cover your mouth to quiet it.

Tommy slowly rubs his stiff cock up and down the length of your lips, pressing in when his head met your hole just to tease you. He was grinning watching you hold your hand to your mouth as you hushed your whines. You so badly wanted to feel the skin of his dick move inside you, the cloth barrier was unbearable. He was enjoying the antagonization, his grip on your hips was firm you wouldn’t be able to escape even if you wanted to, he just kept pulling you closer to him until you gave in and said,

“Please, I want it” your words were like a song to him.

“Well, since y’asked nicely” he growled.

He threw you over his shoulder, making you giggle, and entered your room through the porch entrance closing the doors behind him as swiftly as he entered. He gently laid you on the bed gazing down at you while you writhed with arousal, you hesitantly spread your legs and lifted your shirt to reveal your lower half. Tommy got on the bed, it made a creaking groan under his massive weight. He leaned over you and placed one of his hands down between your folds caressing your entrance, you breathed in sharply and spread your legs further to let him have more access.

Tommy ran his fingers over your tender skin, his digits getting slick with wet the more he rubbed. You put your arms around his neck and pulled his face onto yours and kissed him, he moaned into your mouth and slipped his middle finger into your hole,

“Oh fuck” you whispered

His finger was almost as thick as an average man’s penis, and just as long. He slowly moved in and out of you, the calloused skin scratched your walls and bumped your g-spot sending your nerves into overdrive with pleasure, he feels your walls clench down on his finger,

“Y’got such a tiny lil hole” he says gruffly.

“Yeah? Why don’t you fuck it then” you command.

He pulls his finger out and runs his hand up your shirt skimming along your sensitive skin as he moves, he finds your breast and starts massaging the nipple making you moan with the electrical impulses that tickle your nerves.

“Y’want me bad huh” his tone was mocking.

You reply in a breathy tone “Please, fuck me”

Tommy pinches your nipple before he leans back and pulls his massive cock out from under his sweatpants, his erection was so full that he whined as he held it. Seeing his massive length was sending you over the edge with desperation. Tommy lowered himself down so his shaft lay on your clit, his dick was heavy and warm, the feeling of it on your swollen nub was making you feel drunk with desire.

He rubbed his length up and down your wet folds at an agonizingly slow pace, your wetness coating all along his cock making it glisten in the light of the moon. You tried to wrap your legs around his hips to pull him in but he quickly grabbed them with ease and pushed them all the way back so your knees were touching the sides of your chest.

You were so sexually frustrated with having him tease your greedy hole, you tried to raise your hips to entice him to slip inside but he remained steady.

Tommy saw how badly you wanted him to fuck you, he loved watching how your body beckoned him to enter it. He decided to have mercy on you and pressed his thick head on your hole, allowing you to slowly adjust to the width. He let out heavy sighs as your pussy began to slowly swallow his tip, the soft velvety feel of your lips made him moan deeply. The stretch of his girth sent waves of pleasure through your core and the vibration of his deep voice made it seem like you were mating with a beast.

You managed to slip halfway down his head before he couldn’t take much more and he began to slowly move his tip in and out. He was groaning, trying to control himself but your slicked entrance was beginning to bring out something feral from deep within him, he kept trying to slide more of himself inside but you weren’t opening up fast enough to allow him full entry.

You grab onto his wrists and dig your nails in, he was so wide that your poor little cunt couldn’t adjust fast enough to meet his lulling thrusts. You could feel a sting of pain with each movement as his width increased, the pleasure was overpowering the sting and you didn’t want him to stop. It felt like an impossible task to get even just the rest of his head inside, but you wanted so desperately to be penetrated by him, so you focused on relaxing your muscles to grant him deeper access.

He was quickly losing control over his movements and felt your vaginal walls loosening up, he fought the urge to just aggressively push in deep to get past the last hurdle. He was high on the feeling of your insides, his mind felt light and dreamy, as if his brain was swimming. He kept pressing in further with each forward motion until all of his head was finally inside you, he pulled out further before each hungry thrust to coat himself in more of your dripping sweetness.

“I want the whole thing, give it to me Tommy, I need it” you pleaded.

Tommy needed to get hold of his mind that was beginning to slip away, he had a strong carnal desire to just plow into you but he instead forced himself to remain still. You look up at him wondering why he stopped moving, your vaginal walls still pulsating around his tip from the incredible sensations it brought. He gives you a crooked grin and gently pulls out of you, then stands up off the bed and hastily puts his pants over his erection.

“What! Why?” you asked furiously

He laughs, “That’s payback, my angel”

Tommy walks out of your room and leaves you there a dripping, horny mess; You chuckled to yourself and flopped onto your stomach and yelled into your pillow. You now wanted to get past this cheeky stage and just start fucking like rabbits but you knew he was going to continue this provocatory teasing. It was time to pull out all your tricks and make it so unbearable for him to resist that he will give up messing around and give into his temptations.

Tommy got back into his room in the basement, his mask back on his face where it belonged. He was still fully engorged and now feeling pain from the intense pressure, he needed a release badly, but he also wanted to start practicing control over his desires. He was worried, he felt so close to just letting go and fucking you silly, he wanted to be fully present and aware if your needs when you two finally, properly, lay together.

He flopped on his bed and sighed; he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up for. The next time, he may not be able to pull away so easily.

Special authors note: I wanted to stray from the norm of Thomas constantly being portrayed as having a breeding kink (it can be hot don't get me wrong) because I know there are a lot of women who don't want to read breeding/pregnancy kink for various valid reasons and its fairly hard to find AFAB x Tommy smut where he isn't depicted in such a way. If you were expecting that, I apologize for disappointing you but I try to cater to the people who don't often get catered to because inclusivity is important to me when making adult content. So from here on out, the rest of the chapters in this series will be for the gals who don't want to think of that stuff when reading smut. Thank you for taking the time to read my fic, likes, reblogs, and comments are extremely appreciated.

-Next chapter

[miasmaghoul]

Aurora sitting sidesaddle in Rain's lap in the common room, looking casual as anything, but there's a blanket over the both of them because she has her skirt hiked up around her hips and Rain buried inside her. Idly chatting with Cumulus about nothing important, the others milling around, easy as can be - but Rain has his face smushed into her curls.

He was fine for a while - a long while, honestly - but he's been inside her for so long now, gone from hard to soft and back again, and he's just so warm and sensitive and he can feel how much pre he's leaking and how much more slippery she is inside than usual and it's driving him insane. He just wants to drag her to his chest, grip the backs of her knees and spread her wide so everyone can see how wet and red his cock has gotten and what he's going to do about it.

Aurora squeezes around him and Rain huffs into her hair. She slings an arm around his neck with a satisfied little giggle, pulls away just enough to see how dazed and pink Rain's face has gone. It shifts the angle of his cock just enough to make her gasp, enough to make Rain's stomach clench, and Aurora sounds far too pleased when she hums and leans in to kiss the tip of his nose.

"I think that's enough," she sighs, sounding the tiniest bit put upon. Pouty. Like Rain hasn't been able to feel her wiggle and clench and pulse for who knows how long now. He wonders how quickly she'll cum when he finally gets to really have her, and just the thought of her clamping down like that makes his balls draw up. "Have you learned your lesson about stealing my perfume?"

Aurora gives her hips a much more obvious roll and Rain jolts, eyes flying open when the move jostles their blanket and reminds him where they are. He rushes to still her before he makes a truly unfortunate noise, but -

"Where -"

"They all went to bed," Aurora giggles as Rain takes in the now-empty state of the common room.

"When -"

"Fifteen minutes ago. I was starting to think you'd never notice, so I figured I'd give you a little -"

The ghouletts squeezes around him and Rain makes a delightful choking sound.

"- encouragement," she finishes, and while some part of Rain knows he should try to hold in his whimper, every drop of blood in his body has long since abandoned his brain.

"Now," Aurora chirps, and now that his eyes are open Rain can see the gorgeous rosy flush that's fallen right down her throat, "what do you have to say about being greedy and taking my things?"

"'m sorry," Rain rasps immediately, almost before she's finished asking the question. It's the thing he'd been refusing to say since Aurora took her seat, swearing he could long outlast her. He groans when thin fingers snake up the back of his neck, long nails ticklish against his scalp. "I - I'm sorry, Ro, I -" Rain cuts himself off with a distressed moan when she turns to put her back to his chest. He simply has to grab her hips and grind, and it's nearly enough to make him spill.

"I'm sure you are," she tuts, tossing their blanket to the side. Rain finds himself suddenly engulfed in the scent of her, an overwhelming thing that makes his cock flex and unholy fuck she's so slick inside. "Don't worry, though," Aurora purrs, gathering her skirt in one hand and gripping Rain's knee with the other, "I know just how you can make it up to me."

She pushes herself up and Rain could howl at the feel of it, at how cold the air is when it hits his torturesd flesh, but the only sound he can manage is a gorgeous, pained whine. Because when Aurora stands, she bends, and when she bends it's with her milky thighs spread and her pretty pink cunt on stunning display. She even reaches back to open herself up for him, and as he watches a flood of their combined excitement pour from her open hole Rain thinks never sees anything again in his life he won't mind.

It's on autopilot that he reaches out to cup her mound, grunting at the swollen heat of her against he clammy palm. Aurora gasps, looks over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised.

"What are you -"

"Keep it in," he huffs, hardly more than a whisper. "Can -" Rain swallows hard, his other hand drifting up to palm his balls in search of the tiniest bit of relief. He peers up at the little ghoulette with glassy eyes that make her clit thob against his hand. "- can you keep me inside you? Please?"

"Don't I always?" Aurora reaches back and tugs Rain's wrist, and Rain has to close his eyes lest he bury his face in her and cum all over the floor. "I just had to make room," she explains, and he cracks an eye open anyway. Finds her pulling her skirt down over her pert ass, a relief and a shame all in one.

"Make...room?" He feels unbelievably stupid right now, something he's not all that used to, but then Aurora's stepping between his legs and cupping his hot cheeks and the serene smile on he face belies the bottomless lust in her gaze.

"For the real thing," she explains, and Rain hurts. "You're giving me every drop you've got tonight, raincloud," Aurora coos, leaning down to knock their horns together. She gives him a wink before she backs away, sauntering towards the doorway with their slick trailing down her thighs. "You're not the only one that's greedy."

She blows him a kiss before she vanishes around the doorframe, sends it on a warm puff of air that hits the corner of his mouth, and Rain doesn't even bother to put his cock away before he stumbles after her.

[themultifandomgal]

Matt Casey- Fight For Us Pt6

"Truck 81, engine 51, squad 3, ambulance 61. Buildings fire. Indiana and 28th place" Gabby and I look at each other before rushing to the ambulance. Gabby gets into the drivers seat while I sit next to her. She drives us to the location. The building full of smoke. Truck 81 clear out as many tenets as they can while Gabby and I get to work placing oxygen masks on everyone who's coming out of the building

"5 more ambos and chief hatchers on the way" dad says walking over to me and Gabby

"We're gonna need them. We anticipate at least 5 reds in there"

"We can't wait for Hatcher with this many non-responses. We gotta set up triage"

"Do it" dad gives me a little nod "your in charge here"

"Alright" I take out my little radio "This is Ambulance 60. Give me an EMS Plan 1..."

More and more people come out of the building after Matt, Severide and the others go into the building

"I've got at least 4 reds heading to triage" I hear Kelly say and in no time at all I see him walking out holding someone in his arms

"We have another red. Dawson you take this one"

"Got it"

"There's 3 more up on 6"

"Any burns?" I ask

"Not on 6, but Casey, Mills and Cruz went higher"

"Casey you gotta cric this woman or she's a goner" Gabby tells me. I look over and see a fireman trying his best. I run over to him and kneel down

"Ok hand me a scalpel" he does and

"Who's the lead here?"

"Your looking at her" I reply to Hatcher who must have just arrived. I make a little incision in her throat "give me a size 5 tube" I then insert it and bag her. I check her lungs and get her sent of as quickly as possible to Med

"Mayday mayday I don't know how long I'll last" I hear Matt say through the radio which makes me start to panic. I watch as dad runs in

"YN you good?" Gabby asks

"Yeah" I continue to treat patients while Kelly and the others do what they can "come on Matt" i mutter to myself. Then there's an explosion "Matt, dad!" I yell. I look at Gabby worriedly

"Go" she tells me "I've got them go" I give her a nod and run to Otis and Mouch watching Matt dangling from the ladder. Thankfully Kelly is able to pull Matt up and dad comes out of the building making sigh with relief. As soon as Matt in on the ground my arms are around him

"Please don't ever scare me like that again"

"I'm sorry"

"I'm gonna check on dad. You ok"

"Yeah I'm fine" Matt kisses my head.

"It's over. It's actually over?" I want to cry with happiness

"It's over baby. Voights in jail. You and Ella can come home"

"What if he comes back?"

"Then we will deal with it then"

"We can come home" a tear slips "let's go celebrate"

"Come on then" Matt and I pick Ella up from the nanny's house and take her to the bar, it won't be for long but just to say hi to everyone

"Is my dad drunk?" I ask Kelly taking his beer off him and siping it

"Oi get your own and yes"

"Uncle Kelly!" Ella shouts

"Hey man. Thanks for today, and errrm thanks for looking after these two for me"

"That's what family do"

"Momma are daddy and uncle Kelly friends again?"

"We sure are missy" Kelly tickles Ella making her giggle

"Congratulations guys" Gabbys says smiling

"Thanks. We can finally move on" I give her a hug

"Want a drink?"

"Just the one. We're not staying long since we have Ella with us"

"Ok"

That night we go home together. Ella gets to sleep in her own bed while Matt and I lay in ours

"What would you say to another baby?" Matt suddenly says

"What?"

"We're good again right? Voights gone. We're all safe. Let's have another baby"

"Are you serious?"

"Deadly" I've wanted another baby for a while but since what's been going on I hadn't broached the subject "so?"

"Let's do it. Let's have another baby" I smile leaning into Matt to kiss him "but tonight I'm exhausted"

"Ok baby. We'll talk more in the morning. I love you"

"I love you" I turn over, Matts arm goes around me making me feel so safe and loved.

[the-torchwood-archive]

From TWM #9, Harm's Way Part Two.

Full text is under the cut. This was a quick transcription so please let me know if you find any mistakes.

The hospital was busy. Crowded, in fact. But Rhys barely noticed. He walked up to the reception desk in A&E in a daze, although he could still feel his guts churning.

‘I’m here for Gwen Cooper,’ he said, his mouth dry as paper. ‘She’s my fiancée. I had a call…’

He left the words to die, allowing the haunted look in his eyes convince the pretty girl behind the triage desk. Without a word, the girl cast her eyes down at her VDU and began to rattle the keyboard.

‘Room seven,’ she said, without a smile. There wasn’t much to smile about in a city centre casualty department on Saturday night, ‘Through the double doors, straight on, then left. Next set of doors. You can’t miss it. Ask if you do.’

‘Thanks,’ Rhys threaded his way through the sick and injured as they milled around the waiting area coffee machine.  Rhys passed a miserable looking man sitting up on a gurney in the corner, nursing a hand wrapped in a blood-stained tea towel. His wife was standing nearby, nagging him about being more careful when using a bread knife – and what was he thinking, using it to open a cereal box anyway? Judging by the look on the man’s face as he glared at the woman, he was already thinking about another good use for a bread knife.

Rhys found room seven and went in. There was a bad and a low chair and a strong antiseptic smell. In the bed was a woman, with dark hair pulled back from a face as white as the pillow. Plastic tubes ran from the woman’s nose to a series of bottles and instruments, and an intravenous drip was connected to her arm. It took him a few moments to realize that the pale, injured person in the bed was his fiancée.

Gwen’s eyes were closed, her face slack, no sign of life. Until now, Rhys had never properly thought of the word ‘deathly’ before.

‘Gwen?’ he whispered.

No response, not even a flicker of an eyelid. Oh, God.

He sat down, slowly, in the chair. It was far too low, but it brought his eyes level with her face. In profile she looked even less like the Gwen he knew. White-faced, still, lifeless.

On the far side of the bed, a machine clicked and whirred with a doleful rhythm. For a long while there was no other sound in the room, or even the hospital beyond. No other sound in the whole world, until a footstep alerted Rhys to the fact that there was someone in the doorway.

‘She’s gonna be ok,’ said Captain Jack Harkness. He came into the room, tall, athletic, healthy. He even managed to make that old RAF greatcoat look good. And in that instant, Rhys hated him more than he had ever hated any other human being in his life.

‘Ok?’ Rhys spat the letters out one by one, his face twisted into a derisive sneer, ‘What do you mean ok? Look at her!’ Rhys was on his feet now, fully intending to lash out, but then his legs seem to give way and he slumped back down into the low chair, his voice cracking, ‘Look at her, look what you’ve done to her you stupid…’

Jack put his hand on Rhys' shoulder, ‘I said she’s going to be okay. I promise.’

‘How can you know that?’ Rhys said thickly. His face was in his hands, ‘She’s in a bloody hospital bed for Christ’s sake.’

They both looked at each other then. She hadn’t moved throughout the exchange, hadn’t acknowledged their presence in any way whatsoever. The machines continued their steady hiss and beep.

Rhys looked up at Jack with red eyes, ‘What happened? Just tell me what the hell happened.’

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

Owen was driving at breakneck speed.

‘Have you still got a death wish or something?’ asked Ianto, clinging onto the passenger seat arm rests as Owen swung the Torchwood SUV into another wild turn. The vehicle rocked on its suspension as it scrambled over the uneven ground.

‘Life wish,’ Owen corrected him, stamping on the footbrake and spinning the wheel. The SUV skidded on its own axis and then surged forward, ‘Saving lives is what I want to do, and I can’t afford to go slow.’

Ianto closed his eyes as the SUV came to a hard stop in the middle of a building site. This was going to be a supermarket, but right now it was little more than a big expanse of dirt, foundation trenches and large plastic components for the sewers. There were a couple of pieces of heavy plant machinery here and there, but apart from that the place was dead.

Above them the early evening clouds promised rain. Lots of it.

‘You’re in the right place,’ said Toshiko, who was back in the Hub, her voice coming clear over Ianto’s communications link. He thanked her and passed the message on to Owen, who wasn’t wearing his own earpiece because half his face was covered by a huge surgical dressing. The exposed skin of his lips and cheek were raw and swollen and his left eye was barely open.

Ianto grabbed his arm before he opened the car door, ‘ Owen, you don’t have to prove anything to me.’

‘I know that,’ Owen snapped as he got out. He was hurting, but Ianto knew there was more to it than a fractured cheek bone. He had insisted on patching himself up before leaving the Hub, despite the protestations of his collogues.

Toshiko’s voice came through Ianto’s comms again, ‘You’re close to the Rift disturbance now. You should be able to locate the exact spot from there.’

‘Ok,’ Ianto said, activating his PDA. As he waited for the device to decipher the readings, he asked Toshiko for news about Gwen.

‘She’s stable, that’s all the hospital would tell Jack,’ came the reply, ‘He’s there now, deflecting questions from the police.’

Ianto’s PDA chirruped as it picked up a chronon flare, ‘ Rift activity,’ he reported automatically, ‘This way Doctor Harper…’

Owen followed him across the building site, drawing his gun. Ianto glanced back at him and Owen shrugged. Guns hadn’t had much of an effect so far but he felt better with one in his hand.

They climbed over a pile of rubble and stopped short. Lying in the middle of the ground was a long, amber crust about the size and shape of a coffin. It looked exactly like what it actually was: a giant chrysalis.

‘Empty,’ grunted Owen, circling cautiously.

‘No life signs at all,’ reported Ianto, checking the PDA sensor.

‘You can say that again,’ Owen looked down at the ground. Laying at his feet was the body of a man in a hi-vis jacket caked in mug, and a hard hat split open to reveal a mass of congealed hair and brain matter.

‘Oh no,’ said Ianto.

There were other bodies laying around, half hidden in the dirt, looking like bundles of rags left out in the rain. One of them had been decapitated.

‘Builders must have found the chrysalis,’ Owen said, ‘Poor bastards never stood a chance.’

Ianto nodded and touched his earpiece, ‘Tosh? We’ve found it all right. It’s another chrysalis, identical to the first. But this one’s already open.’

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

‘The first one came down in a back garden in Pontcanna,’ said Jack, ‘We took it to the Hub for analysis and identified it as some sort of alien chrysalis.’

Rhys watched him carefully. Jack was leaning back against the far wall, striped by the light from the street lamps outside, sneaking in through the Venetian blinds. He wasn’t smiling and his eyes were the colour of storm clouds. The words severe weather warning leapt into Rhy’s mind.

‘It wasn’t long before it opened. What came out was…hostile.’

Rhys looked back at Gwen. She was still unconscious. He was beginning to worry that it was a coma or something. ‘It escaped…’ he heard Jack say, ‘Injuring Owen, Ianto and Gwen in the process.’

‘But not you,’ Rhys said without looking up, his voice full of ice-cold anger.

‘Believe me, if I could swap places with her, I would.’

Rhys stood up, ‘I knew this was going to happen. I bloody knew it! I said to her only this morning, I said: you’re going to get hurt, Gwen. You’re going to get hurt or killed running around after Captain Jack Harkness and Torchwood, and chasing bloody space aliens!’

He yelled he last bit, just as a nurse walked in to check on Gwen. She glanced at Jack, excused herself with a self-conscious smile, and went about her business fixing a fresh saline bag to the IV drip. The two men watched her in thunderous silence. Rhys wanted to ask her if Gwen was going to be alright, but didn’t trust himself to speak properly now. There was a great big, spiky ball of emotion swelling up inside his throat. Eventually the nurse went out, and Rhys turned on Jack again, ‘So what happens now?’

‘The doctors said she’s suffering from a concussion,’ Jack said, ‘X-rays showed a hairline fracture of the skull. There are some cracked ribs too,’ He sighed, ‘To be honest, it could have been worse.’

‘Worse?’

‘She could have been killed!’ Now, suddenly, Jack had lost his cool as well, as if his calm demeanor of a few moments ago had been little more than a thin mask covering his real emotions. His voice shook slightly as he repeated, almost hoarsely, ‘She could have been killed.’

But for Rhys that just made things worse. He glared at Jack, ‘Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t wish it was you lying there?’ He jabbed a finger at the silent, unmoving figure in the bed.

Two more nurses came in then, both looking straight at Jack. One of them was the nurse who’d just been in, and clearly she had gone to fetch a friend. The friend’s eyes roved Jack up and down in expert appraisal. Jack smiled at them both, but the nurses knew they had just walked into an argument, ‘Listen, you boys,’ said the first nurse, ‘It’s not going to do this young lady any good to hear you two arguing over her, is it?’

‘We’re not – ‘ both men began, and then stopped abruptly, neither one wanting to look as if they were doing just that.

‘I’m not in love with her,’ Jack said quietly, at exactly the same time as Rhys said, ‘She’s my fiancée.’

The nurse sighed, ‘ Why don’t you both go outside and cool off a bit?’

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

‘Is she going to be ok?’ Rhys asked as they were ushered into the corridor.

‘She’s hurt and she needs time to heal. She’s in the best possible place, honestly,’ the nurse smiled at him, ‘Go and get a cup of tea or something. We’ll let you know as soon as she wakes up.’

Rhys nodded dumbly, all the fight gone out of him now. Eventually he became aware of Jack taking a call on his earpiece.

‘Tosh? What gives?’

‘Owen and Ianto have found a second chrysalis.’

‘Damn.’

‘And it’s open.’

‘Damn!’

‘There are already fatalities, Jack…’

‘Damn!’ Jack took a deep breath, ‘Ok, we’ve gotta find it before it kills again. We stopped the first one so we can stop this one.’

‘How?’

‘I’ll think of something. Get them to pick me up from the hospital.’

‘Ok. How’s Gwen?’

‘Just the same. Rhys is with her now.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah,’ Jack closed the call and turned back to Rhys, ‘I’ve got to go.’

‘I heard. Chasing aliens.’

‘Someone’s got to do it.’

It was said without a hint of irony, and Rhys was too tired and worried to care. But something made him ask, ‘How did you stop it, in the end? The thing that got Gwen?’

He wanted to hear how Jack and the team had made the beast pay for what it had done, but Jack simply shook his head, ‘We didn’t stop it, not really. The alien was looking for the exit when I crawled out of the autopsy room. But the Hub’s a sealed environment designed to stop hostile extraterrestrial forces from escaping into the real world. So the thing wasn’t exactly happy. It was flinging itself around, smashing into walls, wrecking the place.’

‘Sounds like some kind of wild animal,’ Rhys was almost relieved, as if Gwen’s condition could be excused as an accident of nature, rather than a deliberate attack by an intelligent force.

‘I’m not so sure,’ Jack frowned, ‘I looked into its eyes at one point. It was looking right back at me. And it knew. It knew I was gonna try to stop it.’

Rhys swallowed, feeling a bilious mix of fear and rage churning in his stomach, ‘So…?’

‘Ianto had an idea – a one shot chance at stopping it in its tracks for good. He said the creature was a predator, and naturally armoured, but there’s always a week spot. He reckoned every time it opened its mouth, there was a soft unprotected part of the palate that was exposed. A bullet through that would pass, relatively unobstructed, straight into the brain. It was a kill shot, but one requiring absolute precision in difficult circumstances. The target would be exposed for only a second as the creature roared, and then it would be right on top of you. If you hadn’t got it by then, you’d be dead meat yourself.’

Rhys reguarded Jack with genuine respect, ‘And you did it?’

Jack laughed, ‘Are you kidding? Hey, I’m good – but I’m not that good.’

‘So…?’

‘Luckily Tosh had a better idea; we lured the alien to the Rift manipulator and she hot-wired a small, highly localised time field. Slowed down a discrete pocket of time surrounding the creature. Now it’s still alive – just moving real slow. Tosh says the effect won’t last long, though. When the time-field snaps, back in line with everything else, the creature will just carry on doing exactly what it was in the middle of. Before then we have to find a way to stop it permanently.’

‘Well you’ve got another chance to find a way now, haven’t you? If there’s another one on the loose.’

‘Yeah, maybe. But how many people is it gonna kill before we find it?’ Jack’s earpiece bleeped, ‘ They’re here. I’ve gotta go.”

Rhys nodded, ‘I’ll stay here with Gwen. I want to be the first thing she sees when she wakes up,’ he held out his hand, ‘Good luck.’

Jack saluted with his fingertips and then left without another word.

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

‘We’ve got a fix, somewhere in Grangetown,’ said Ianto as Jack climbed into the SUV. It had clouded over and rain was in its way.

Owen tooled the car out of the hospital grounds and accelerated westbound onto Eastern Avenue.

‘It’s heading for the city,’ Ianto said, studying the flat screen in front of him. The light gave his face a soft blue pallor. The bruise on his forehead looked purple and sore.

‘Mouth shot, huh?’ said Jack.

Ianto looked at him, ‘It was only an idea.’

‘Not one of your best, Ianto,’ commented Owen.

‘At the moment it’s all we’ve got,’ Jack opened the cylinder on his old Webley revolver, checked it was fully loaded, then snapped it shut. He turned around to look at Ianto, ‘When we catch up with this guy, you can be the one to ask it to open wide for me, ok?’

Ianto raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

‘Police report on a traffic pile up near the Taff Embankment on Penarth Road,’ Owen announced. His earpiece was not jammed into his good ear and tuned to the police network.

‘So take a detour.’

‘You don’t understand. The thing that caused the pile up – cops are calling it some kind of nine-foot monster. First car hit it square on and bounced off. Then it wrecked the other vehicles and threw a lorry into the river.’

Jack’s face hardened, ‘Step on it.’

In the Hub, deep beneath Roald Dahl Plass, Toshiko took a moment to admire her handiwork. By using the Rift manipulator to bend the laws of physics, Toshiko had slowed time down in a bubble around the alien. It was a peculiar effect, the beast had paused like a snapshot suspended in mid-air. But, unlike the image on a TV screen, if you watched it carefully, you could still see the alien moving, as slowly – or as quickly – as the hour hand on a watch.

‘Bullet time,’ Ianto had said. He’s still been clutching the big Heckler & Koch G36 assault rifle, ‘Why don’t we shoot it now?’

‘Because as soon as the bullet enters the protracted tachyon field it’ll slow right down as well,’ Tosh had told him, ‘And besides, it’s mouth is closed.’

The sound of police sirens filled the Hub, relayed via the comms link in the SUV as it sped towards the city centre. Soon Jack’s voice had also crackled through the air, and Tosh heard him loud and clear as he made his way into the growing chaos, ‘Get these people out of the way! This is Torchwood! We’re dealing with the situation now.’

Toshiko shook her head. Were they? As usual they seemed to be reacting to events rather than controlling them. She had just realized a whole branch of theoretical physics at a moments notice, and there wasn’t even time to appreciate it. But Torchwood never paused, not even for thought. Everything they did was fast, reactive, and above all secret. This was the 21st Century. Everything was changing and  they had to be ready.

‘Tosh, are you getting me?’ Jack’s voice snapped Toshiko out of her reverie. ‘I hear you Jack. Go ahead.’

‘We’re closing in on the second alien. It’s having some kinda tantrum in the city centre. We’ll stay online and keep you informed. See if you can come up with anything that can help.

‘Like a bloody big gun,’ suggested Owen, crackling over the speakers.

Tosh touched her earpiece, ‘Jack, I don’t know if it’s any use, but –‘

‘There it is!’ She heard Jack’s voice cutting across her. The speakers made his voice crackle and distort, ‘Hang a left. Whoa! It’s on top of that bus! Hey, it’s grown. Man, that’s one big guy…’

Toshiko almost screamed in frustration. She couldn’t see a thing. With one hand she was trying to punch up CCTV images from the city centre on her monitors, but it was murderously slow business.

‘How could it get that big?’ asked Ianto.

‘Will it ever stop growing?’ Owen pitched in, ‘I mean, are we talking a Godzilla scenario, or what?’

Tosh began to feel the cold dread building up inside her. She felt totally cut off from the events, helpless as she listened to them. What could she do? The slo-mo monster in the time bubble wasn’t going to wait forever. And neither was its twin, the thing that was already carving a bloody path through central Cardiff.

‘It’s tearing cars in half with its bare hands,’ she heard Ianto’s voice, ‘There are armed police, but they can’t do any good.’

‘I’m gonna find their commanding officer,’ Jack said, ‘We’ve got the pull them back, right out of harm’s way.’

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

Toshiko heard a crash, like a car accident, and them more shouting. Shots were fired. There were screams. Impatiently she rapped at her earpiece with her fingers, ‘Jack?’

‘Busy now, Tosh,’ came the reply. A pause, then the sound of more shots. Men shouting. Jack’s voice snapping out orders, presumably to the police. It sounded like he was reporting from a war zone. Suddenly there was silence. Then: ‘Ok, Toshiko. What have you got for me? Make it good.’

‘I’ve been looking at the chrysalis, Jack. I’ve compared the markings we found on the first one with the images of the second.’

‘Tosh, we’ve got a hostile alien tearing lumps out of Central Square. People are dying. What’s the bottom line?’

Before Toshiko could say another word, she heard a terrific crash over the speakers and yet more screaming. Machine gun fire rattled out into the night. She swiveled in her seat as CCTV images from the centre of town finally rolled into life on her screens. Those that were working showed the swirling blue lights of emergency vehicles, silhouettes running, some of them armed. There was no sign of the SUV.

One of the cameras caught a glimpse of the alien: brutish, part-simian and part-scorpion, trampling vehicles underfoot. Heavy rain and the low resolution image made it difficult to see any details, and the creature disappeared in a flash down a side street.

‘Jack? Can you hear me? Owen? Ianto? Is anyone receiving me?’

Nothing but static. The connection was dead. Everything was slipping out of her control. What could she do?

She switched one of the screens onto the BBC News channel. A local correspondent was reporting from Cardiff city centre, huddled in a raincoat, police cars behind them, ‘…something loose in the city centre, extremely hostile. A police spokesman refused to be drawn on the exact nature of the emergency, but we do know that the EVAC Cardiff response team is currently holding an emergency meeting in City Hall. The city centre has been sealed off and the police are flooding the area with armed response units. Residents are advised to stay…’

His final words were drowned out by the roar of a huge explosion, an orange fireball erupting in the background. Pieces of debris sped towards the screen in a blue and then, abruptly, the image disappeared as the camera went offline.

Toshiko sat back, stunned. No Jack. Nothing from Ianto or Owen. Gwen unconscious in hospital. A hostile alien causing chaos in the city, and another one right behind her, poised to rip her to shreds the moment time began to flow freely once again.

What could she do all by herself?

[zipzin]

Keep it Safe - Also on Ao3

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Once Upon a Time

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Regina Mills/Emma Swan

Characters: Emma Swan, Regina Mills, Henry Mills

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, season 3b, Regina's very bad half season

The wind is biting outside Mifflin, and Emma shivered in her leather jacket. It felt good to be back in it, perhaps the only thing about being here that felt right. Well maybe als-

The rest of her thought was cut off as Regina stomped down the steps.

“You don’t have to do this.” Emma stared at her, “Regina, please, I’m not going to lose you to some witch claiming to be your sister.” What was with this town a fucked up families?

“She is my sister.” Regina grit out.

“So what?” Emma said with her fists clenched. “I know you’re kinda about pissing contests, but you don’t owe her anything. You can back out.”

“I’m not backing down,” Regina rolled her eyes and then avoided looking at Emma, “But there is one thing you can do for me.”

“Anything,” Emma promised.

“Take this,” Regina held out a small, well sack. Emma stared at it, the black leather smoothly sliding over her fingers as she grabbed it.

“Um okay, I already ate dinner? And Henry is eating fine too.” Emma added hastily. Even though Regina had seen him (albeit at a distance) and seen he’d not been malnourished the last year, she still didn’t trust Emma to take care of him. Not that she was going to say no to free leftovers. “But still Regina, you don’t need to fight her.”

“It’s not dinner,” Regina said frostily, “Wait-”

Emma tossed the sack into the passenger seat of the bug and turned back. Regina’s eyes widened and her hands went to grab it as it thumped against the seat. Emma’s mouth dropped open as Regina clutched her chest, wincing.

“You idiot-”

“Regina,” Emma felt her heart hammer against her chest, “What was in the bag?”

“What do you think?”

Emma trembled as she scrambled to grab it and stared into it in horror. “Please tell me this isn’t your heart.”

Regina took an unnecessary step closer and bared her teeth. “It is.”

“You’re giving your heart to me?”

“Yes.”

“What? Why?” Emma dared not move.

Regina sighed, “I’m not an idiot, Miss Swan, I’m going against a witch in battle, sometimes it’s best to leave your heart behind. If my mother taught me anything.”

“Your heart?” Emma gulped feeling faint.

Regina twiddled her thumbs, looking down, “Hearts are very powerful, if Zelena defeats me-”

“She won’t.”

“Thank you for your loyalty,” Regina rolled her eyes, “You were just saying I don’t need to fight her.”

“You don’t need to fight her,” Emma said and gingerly lowered the bag, “But that doesn’t mean you’ll lose.”, 

“As I was saying,” Regina said, “Heart’s are very powerful whether she means to kill me,” Emma bit back a wince, “or use it as an ingredient, it’s best that she doesn’t have any access to it.”

“And me?”

“I trust you.” Regina spit out, like the fact was a personal failing. Knowing Regina, it probably was.

The words filled Emma with the same rush of warmth as others did a whole year ago. A lifetime of good memories. Emma blinked, unable to maintain eye contact, “With your heart?”

“You already have it,” Regina said and turned around, eyes watery as the words washed over Emma like a cold shower, “Just I know you can keep it safe. Hide it, don’t bring it tonight.”

“Fine,” She muttered, and stuffed the sack into her jacket. She could feel it beat against her chest.

“Thank you,” Regina said, “I have a couple more preparations to make. I’ll meet you at the clock tower.”

“Regina,” Emma said and they stared at each other for a long moment, “Kick her ass.”

“Oh I will,” Regina answered with a smirk.

“Here,” Emma shoved the black bag back into Regina’s arms. Regina’s text hadn’t come soon enough. Henry dozed in the bed behind the closed motel door, and Emma still wasn’t sure what to think about Regina crashing into the clock tower.

There was something about seeing Regina like that, snarling and vicious, directed at someone else, that made it impossible to look away.  Emma had felt a cold streak of horror when Zelena’s hand plunged into her chest, and for a second Emma thought she could see a smirk of triumph on Regina’s face.

Regina took the bag carefully, holding it open and letting out a sigh of relief, as if she couldn’t quite believe that the heart was still there. 

“Do you need help?” Emma asked, not entirely certain what the protocol was in situations like this. Regina had taken it out herself, so it was probably fine, but was she just supposed to watch?

“Yes,” Regina answered, surprising Emma.

“Oh, um, I just kinda place it where it’s supposed to go, right?”

Regina’s laugh twinkled throughout the hallway, “No Emma, I can put my heart back myself.”

“Okay?” Emma felt her forehead scrunch.

Regina thrust out the bag, “I need you to hold onto this for longer.”

“Longer?” Emma breathed, “But what about Henry and the danger? And you! You’re just going to walk around without your heart? Didn’t you say Cora took out her heart?” They both flinched at the mention of her mother, and an apology was already halfway out of Emma’s mouth, “Not that you’re your mother, I just-”

“Emma,” Regina said seriously, “You think Zelena is going to give up after one attempt? I’m certain that she’ll be watching me.”

“And you don’t think she’ll be watching me?” Emma scoffed.

“She will,” Regina confirmed, “But you can protect this heart better than most. We’ll need to start magic lessons. I think light magic may be the only way to stop her.”

“Why can’t you keep it safe in your chest?” Emma hated the whine in her voice.

“You saw what will happen if I keep it in my chest. It needs to stay hidden,” Regina barred her teeth, “I trust you.”

Emma thought about Henry behind the door, “Fine,” Emma said, “I’ll keep it.”

Regina nodded and turned, “And don’t just keep it in your nightstand.”

“How did you-” Emma bit her lip as Regina poofed away.

Dramatic asshole, she thought as a smile crossed her mouth.

Emma let herself into her parents' apartment the next morning. Henry had known something was up at breakfast as Emma stressed over her new hiding spot, but he was safe with Killian at the motel and couldn’t ask her any more questions. 

Inside, she found Regina already standing, hands flexing on the back of a chair as Snow demanded, “So, where is it now? In your chest?”

“It is safe,” Regina answered evenly.

“Safe? What about us, are we safe?  You of all people should know how dangerous this is.”

Regina’s knuckles turned white, her face contorting as she spit out, “I can assure you that you are safe.”

Snow continued, “Your mother-”

Emma winced.

“Snow, you really don’t need to tell me anything about my mother,” Regina all but yelled. 

Emma looked at David, itching to do something. What, she had no idea. He just gave her the slightest head nod that she took as, just wait.

“Right,” Snow capitulated after the two of them stared at each other for a silent minute.

“Where is it?” David asked softly once they had turned away from each other.

“That’s none of your concern,” Regina nodded at Emma in greeting. “The less you two know, the better.”

“Is it-”

“I have someone taking care of it. He is trustworthy.” Regina cut Snow off before she could finish another word.

He? Emma frowned and like a gulping fish, asked, “He?” 

What was she? Was this some elaborate ploy?

Regina shot her a look, “Yes, he. Not Charming.”

“Well, obviously not,” Snow said and then looked at Emma with sorrowful eyes, “Is it Killian?”

Regina screeched, “Killian! That unwashed vagrant!”

Emma cut over the rest of Regina’s curses, “That’s all we’re getting Snow, okay?” She didn’t like the thought of anyone else having it, least of all Killian, but she wasn’t certain she could listen to more.

“So, what’s the plan with Zelena?” David asked.

“I’ve put up protection wards,” Regina said, “Here, Emma’s room at Granny’s, my house, they can be broken, but they aren’t blood wards so she will have to work at it.”

“And if they’re broken?” David asked.

“Hopefully, by then Emma or I will know and we’ll defend against whatever attack she has planned.” Regina rolled her eyes.

“So we just wait?” Emma said.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose, “All we know is that Zelena wants my heart.”

“And that she was interested in our baby,” Snow cut in.

“Yes,” Regina sighed as Emma shifted in her shoes, “That’s hardly enough to go on. We need more information. So you sit tight while Emma and I investigate.”

“I can help investigate too,” David said.

“You need to protect Snow,” Regina said.

“And the best way I can protect her is if I’m out there figuring out what she wants,” He replied.

Regina huffed and looked at Emma for help.

“You can help us with the search,” Emma said evenly, ignoring Regina’s glare. “We need bodies, we have no idea where she’s hiding. But at the first sign of trouble you let us take over and return here.”

David gave a short nod.

They talked for another thirty minutes, that just made Emma more and more aware that she was out of place here. Her parents were biologically younger and expecting a baby. A whole other human. There’d soon be no more room in the loft for her or Henry, they’d have to crash on the couch if they wanted to spend the night.

She wanted Henry to never regain his memories.

It was a relief when Regina excused herself and Emma could follow suit. That she could ignore Snow and David’s invite to lunch because of Henry.

The door closed behind them and Emma demanded, “Him?”

“Miss Swan.”

“Don’t Miss Swan me, what do you mean him?” She’d been accused of being butch before, but she wasn’t that butch.

Regina pursed her lips together and dragged Emma down the stairs. A wave of her hands and Emma could feel a flash of magic envelope them. 

“Emma,” Regina sighed, “I trust your mother,” She frowned as the words came out of her mouth, “But she cannot keep a secret. And do you really want her doting around you telling you some saccharine thing about keeping my heart safe?”

“Well, no-”

“So what’s the big deal?”

Emma let out a sigh as something softened in her chest, “So there’s no him?”

“No, there’s a him,” Regina chuckled.

“What?” Emma blinked. Had Regina met someone? They didn’t have their memories of the missing year and she’d met someone? In two weeks? A shot of something flashed through her.

“Lies are only as good as the truth that’s in them.”

Emma stared at Regina who avoided eye contact and Emma felt her mouth go dry. Oh. “You gave some guy a heart? A real heart?”

“Well, it wouldn’t do for him to think that it isn’t mine.”

“Regina, how many hearts do you have?” The words tasted like ash in her mouth.

Regina just looked at the wall.

She let out a deep sigh and rubbed at her forehead. “You know what, I don’t want to know. Who is it then? This him,” she mocked.

Regina raced a perfectly manicured eyebrow, “That’s not relevant.”

“I think it is.”

“No, it’s not.” Regina repeated. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed, “Shouldn’t I know so I can help protect him?”

“Do you want to bring more attention to him? Absolutely not.”

“Fine.”

“Good,” Regina said with disdain, “Zelena is undoubtedly not an idiot, so unless you want her poking around you and Henry even more, I need to lay down false tracks. Understood?”

“Yes,” Emma felt like she was back in one of the few classes she attended in high school.

“Now,” Regina said, “I’ll be heading home.” 

She flicked her wrists and the magical barrier dissipated.

“Wait!” Emma grabbed her arm, and Regina frowned at her. “I just, well, I thought that you might want to come to the diner with me, Henry will be there. We could have lunch?”

Regina’s eyes shined, “Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

Emma felt her heart twist, “No, he’s curious about everything, so another face would be a good thing. Maybe put him off the trail for a bit.”

“Okay.” Regina nodded. “I’d like that.”

They finished making their way down the stairs and began walking to Granny’s in silence. At least Storybrooke was mostly walkable, if she had to give that up alongside not dealing with fairytale bullshit she wouldn’t have left New York.

Regina hesitated at the doorway of Granny’s. Emma looked back at her and said, “You coming in?”

“I think-” She wrung her hands in those red leather gloves that Emma had spent way too long thinking about and Emma turned fully to face her. “I’m not sure that I can do this.”

“Regina,” Emma strode over and took the clenching hands into her own, “It will be fine, I promise.”

“What am I going to say?” Regina said.

“You’re going to ask him all about New York,” Emma said, “And he’ll be mildly curious about why you’re there, but I’ll handle that.”

Regina's eyes narrowed, “Emma, you can’t lie to him.”

Emma rolled her eyes.

“I’m serious,” Regina said, “You can’t. And I won’t.”

“I’ll say that we were working together and I asked you to join me for lunch because I knew that your house was empty.”

Regina’s nostrils flared, “Fine.”

Emma ushered her inside. She couldn’t tell Regina that she planned to go back. This investigation would go from, well, Regina would probably team up with Zelena, knowing their luck. But she could give Regina these moments and convince Henry that Regina was a friend.

And maybe Regina could come visit.

Maybe she could move.

Emma shook the thought out of her head as they found Henry sitting at the counter drinking a milkshake.

“Henry,” Emma tried to not laugh at the deer in headlights look he gave when he turned around. “Killian, he hasn’t had lunch yet!”

Killian shrugged from his spot next to him, “Let the boy have what he wants.”

Emma didn’t dare look at the expression on Henry’s face. “Well I’m having lunch, come on, the mayor’s joining us.”

Henry nodded at Regina, “Hello.”

“Hi.”

Emma shooed Killian away as they all slid into a booth and Emma stared at the menu in front of her. “How was your day?”

“It was fine. What did you do?”

“Still working on the investigation. Regina was helping me.”

“Really?” Henry turned his eyes to her, brimming with curiosity.

“I’m afraid we didn’t make much progress,” Regina said.

“Oh.”

“But your mom tells me you enjoyed New York. I’ve never been.”

“You haven’t?”

And like that they were off, Emma barely had to say anything as they ordered food and ate. She just sat back and let Regina drink in Henry until the dinner crowd began to crawl in and Granny ushered them out to free up the table.

Emma leaned up and grabbed the bag from the corner of the closet. She let out a sigh as the now familiar weight of Regina’s heart was still there. She had made a point to check every time she reentered the room.

Well, almost every time.

She pulled it out and stared at the mesmerizing ruby and black swirls. Would Regina’s heart have looked the same two years ago? She knows it didn’t. They’d both changed so much in two years, hell Regina willingly spends time with Snow now. Something Emma’s not sure she even likes. And instead of fighting against each other for Henry, they fight together. Still for Henry, but united with the same goal.

Mostly the same goal, Emma thought as a vision of New York flashed in her head.

Emma shifted in her seat, they were something like friends. Maybe even best friends? She released a shaky breath. Regina had entrusted her with her two most precious things in the world. And given her a lifetime of memories that Emma hadn’t even known she ached for.

They were-

The bathroom door sprang open and Emma bobbled the heart back into the bag.

“Are you looking at that bag again?” Henry asked, a small speck of toothpaste on the corner of his lips.

“Just making sure it’s safe.” Emma said and put it back up on the top shelf.

Henry watched her with raised eyebrows, “Why don’t you put it in the safe?”

Emma stared at the safe that hadn’t changed in twenty years and grimaced. Who knew if that thing even worked properly. “That’s the first place robbers would look.”

He rolled his eyes and huffed as he launched himself onto the rollaway, “Sure, whatever.” And pulled out his phone without another glance at her.

She didn’t want this. She didn’t want to be here. She wants to be back in New York, absently wondering how she managed to make things work while raising Henry. She wanted that to be her only fairytale. 

She doesn’t want Regina’s heart.

She let out a loud sigh.

“Mom,” Henry grumbled out, “Are we going to bed?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma sighed and got up, darting to the bathroom.

Once this is over, she thinks, we will go back.

Regina joins them for breakfast. Almost every morning.

It starts on accident, Regina sliding into the booth to discuss a couple things while Henry is at the counter and Henry joins back and says, “Oh Miss Mayor, are you staying? It was cool to talk to you at lunch.”

Regina froze, eyes watery, “I should-”

“You’re much cooler than Mom,” Henry smirked and Emma wondered about the ethics of kicking him underneath the table. Regina’s eyes were wide, brimming with some emotion Emma couldn’t identify.

“She is,” Emma cut Henry off before he could say anything else and Henry beamed and pestered her with questions about what it meant to run a town.

Regina had looked softer than Emma had ever seen her.

The first time is an accident, the second time, Emma grabs Regina’s coffee and all but orders her into the booth, and the third time Henry greets her and nods to the seat across from him so she has no choice.

Regina doesn’t resist after that.

It’s like something out of Henry’s book, except Henry doesn’t know about the book and Regina is not his mother and, Emma doesn’t focus on it too much. Not the rocking guilt that’s building every time Regina smiles at him. Not the shivers that tingle down her spine about the explosion that will rock the town when Emma tells her they’re leaving. Not the rapid beating on her heart at the devastation that will be written across Regina’s face. 

They can give Regina these moments to have when they go back to New York. It will be enough, Emma determines, it has to be.

Regina will understand, New York is safer. Henry won’t be kidnapped by Peter Pan or body swapped, there won’t be self-destruct switches, or monsters. She’ll understand.

She has to.

Emma played with the leather bag on the table. They were in the vault for another of Regina’s “totally safe” magic lessons. She mostly left Regina’s heart in the motel room, but with Henry out with Snow and Charming and no one watching the diner, she felt better if it was on her.

And it’d be safe with Regina here.

“So what’s it today?” Emma asked, “You found another bridge to terrify me with?”

“No,” Regina shivered, “We are not doing that again. Ever. We are going to do something a little more relevant.”

“Relevant?”

“You should learn how to hide objects.” Regina was staring at the bag and Emma flinched her hand away from it.

“You can hide objects? Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” Emma asked.

“It’s not that simple,” Regina said, “but since you insist on taking that with you everywhere, you should be able to vanish it for a while.”

“I don’t take it with me everywhere!” The rest of Regina’s statement processed. “Wait? Vanish it? What if it disappears forever?” It was scary enough knowing that Regina didn’t have her heart now.

“Not actually vanish it,” Regina rolled her eyes, “You’re giving a magical boost for it to seem inconsequential.”

“How long can that last?”

“The best can cast it so it lasts lifetimes.” Regina smiled smugly.

“So why don’t you do it?” Emma frowned. Why was she even here? Hadn’t they already figured out that her magic is only good in the moment? That she can’t access it at will for fancy tricks?

Regina turned away from the table, “I can’t be sure, but I believe that Zelena is able to trace my magic. Whether it’s because it’s dark magic or we share blood, she was able to counter me easily at the clock tower. If I cast it, it may have the opposite effect and instead be a glaring sign that something’s there.”

“So I have to do it?” Emma sighed.

“Yes.”

Emma swallowed and looked at the table in Regina’s vault. It was full of small objects. On one side were a series of pebbles, the first a small smooth river stone that was barely larger than a thimble. They got bigger and bulkier as it moved down. Then there were a couple keys, a crystal, a geode, and finally a tiny succulent that she was pretty sure was from Snow’s classroom.

“Fine, how do I do this?”

Regina gave her a gratified look and grabbed the heavy tome that rested on the table and flipped to a marked page. “This one should help us the most,” Regina’s back straightened as she laid it down.

Emma stared at the page and back at Regina trying to hold back a laugh, “I can’t read that.” It was written in what Emma was pretty sure was elvish, but just looked like a bunch of scribbles. Some of the text had gold flaking on it and it looked like it was centuries old.

“I should teach you that next.”

“Please don’t.”

“Hmm.”

They spent the next five minutes going over pronunciation, and based on the flaring of Regina’s nose, Emma was pretty sure she still didn’t have it perfectly correct.

“So that’s it? I just point at the object and repeat that?” Emma gestured at the smallest stone.

“No,” Regina pinched her nose, “You need a hand movement and then, remember, it’s all about intent. You must want to hide it from everyone. Including me.”

“You? Even though it’s your heart?”

“I can’t know Emma. That makes me a bigger liability.”

“Fine,” Emma gritted out, “what’s the movement?”

Regina demonstrated a flick of her wrist and Emma copied her, startling as Regina grabbed her hand to correct her. An ember traveled up her arm and down her spine and she stared at Regina for a couple moments before she realized Regina was still moving her hand in the correct motion.

“More with the wrist.”

Emma swallowed heavily, “Right.”

“Again.”

Emma flicked her wrist with emphasis.

“Excellent.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Miss Swan,” Regina rolled her eyes and then nudged forward the smallest pebble. “Now I want you to focus on this, and think about how you want no one to be able to find it. You don’t want it to disappear, just no one to find it.”

“What happens if it disappears?”

“Well, then I hope you can get it back.” Regina said swiftly.

“Right.” This all felt like the beginning of a terrible mistake. “You sure you want me to do this on your heart?”

“Just try it with the pebble first.”

Emma nodded and focused on the pebble and waved her hand over it. “So?”

“Again, Miss Swan.”

Emma didn’t bother trying to hide her sigh. She had a feeling she was going to be here for a long time.

Emma swung the door shut behind her, “Alright Henry-” 

The rest of the words die on her tongue. Henry sat on her bed, staring at Regina’s heart in his hand. When she’d stashed the bag before she had gone down the check on what they could have for dinner she had not imagined this.

The world froze, “Henry, be very careful with that.”

“This is the thing you are so obsessed with keeping safe? What is it?” He frowned at it.

Emma took a couple steps forward, her heart thundering. “Careful, Henry.”

“It doesn’t feel breakable,” He gave it a little squeeze, “Almost squishy.”

“HENRY!” Emma yelled and raced forward. She took it out of his hand, her heart racing as she grabbed it from him. 

He frowned at her. “Mom, what the-”

“Do not finish that sentence!” Emma checked the heart over and let out a sigh of relief when it appeared undamaged. Though, she didn’t really know what she was looking for. She placed it with shaking hands carefully in the bag.

“Mom?” Henry looked scared as Emma turned around.

“It doesn’t look or feel delicate, but it is and you can easily break it.”

“What’s it made out of? It looks kinda like a heart.” His forehead is still crinkled as he stared at her with wide eyes.

“I don’t actually know,” At least she isn't lying.

Henry frowned, “Is it a fancy plastic? It almost felt like a giant gummy bear? But it was also kinda hard? And not sticky?” He stared at the bag in Emma’s hands, “And you couldn’t see any electronics, it’s pretty amazing how it lit up and changed colors.”

This was why Regina wanted her to learn that stupid spell. She hadn’t even been able to get it to work on the geode yet. There was no way she was risking Regina’s heart.

“Henry, I really don’t know.”

He stared at her and then mumbled out, “Is it my dad’s?”

The air whooshed out of her lungs. Regina and Neal couldn’t be more different, and yet, “yes,” Emma said. Because how can she say anything else?

“Really?”

“It’s something that the woman who killed him wants,” Emma said, “I don’t know why, but we have to hide it.”

“With you? Doesn’t that seem a little obvious?”

Emma wanted to laugh, “You’d think so, but I guess it’s so obvious that she hasn’t thought to look for it here. Your dad and I weren’t exactly chatting with each other when he died.”

“But you’re here for him?”

“Yes.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed like he can sense the lie as potent as Emma can. “I-

He’s cut off as the door is thrown open, and Emma lunged for him, throwing him behind the bed. Regina stood in the entryway, face red, and in one hand, a fireball curled.

“Regina!” Emma squeaked, “Everything’s fine.”

“I felt-”

“Henry’s right here,” Emma continued, “I think that call you got was just an accident.”

The fireball is extinguished, and Regina reeled backwards, “Oh, um.” Her eyes stare at the bag on the bed and back to Henry, who was peeking up from behind the bed.

“I should go.” Regina finally said. Her eyes were watering, and Emma stalked forward. “I-”

“Why don’t you join us for dinner?”

“I already ate.” The lie pinged loudly.

“Hi Mayor Mills,” Henry waved.

Regina gave a smile so broken that Emma felt like she was back in the tunnels. Let me die as Regina. Regina backed out of the room, “Enjoy your dinner, and stay safe.” The door shut as quickly as it was opened.

“Weird.” Henry muttered.

“Yeah, I must have butt dialed her or something,” Emma eeked out.

Henry gave her a weird look, and Emma stashed the heart back in the spot in the closet. “Come on, let’s eat.”

Emma walked down the steps to Regina’s vault with her heart almost beating out of her chest. She’d talked to Snow once, about what it meant to not have your heart, and she described that every emotion was lowered. That you couldn’t feel love.

She kinda wanted to pull her own out right now.

Regina’s was resting in a bag tucked within her jacket. After Henry finding it, she didn’t trust him to not go looking again, and while Killian was taking him out of the motel room, she knew better than most how resourceful Henry could be.

She needed to master this stupid spell.

“Hi,” Emma said as Regina came into view. She was crouched over a book, a pinch between her eyes as she rubbed her temples.

She shut it quickly and stared at Emma, eyes narrowing, “Hi.”

Emma swallowed heavily as they stared at each other in silence. The bag rested uneasily against her side and she hesitantly pulled it out and set it on the table.

Regina looked at it like it was an undefused bomb.

“It’s with you,” She muttered.

“Figured that was safer,” Emma sighed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” What could she say? The she didn’t think Henry, the one who was laser focused on figuring out the curse, wouldn’t be curious enough to look at the bag that Emma kept checking?

Regina closed her eyes and buried her head in her hands and Emma braced herself. She would deserve it.

“I can feel it,” Regina finally muttered.

“What?”

Regina looked at her carefully, “I can feel it when you hold it.”

“Oh.” Emma blinked.

Oh no. All those nights she’d spent staring at it, tracing over the grooves, marveling at the colors, she felt her cheeks blaze red.

“I knew right away that someone else had it,” Regina muttered and rubbed at her chest, “It wasn’t malicious, I knew it wasn’t Zelena or some monkey. It was curious and-” Her voice broke and she leaned against the table.

“Regina-”

“No,” Regina wiped her eyes and stood, “You need to master this.” She pushed the succulent forward. “Now.”

Emma opened her mouth to say something, but seeing the blazing look on Regina’s face just nodded instead.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

“Oh Regina,” Zelena sing songed as she entered Granny’s, waving a glowing heart in her hand with a smirk of triumph. Emma has never been more thankful that Henry was at school. “You thought you could fool me, putting this with some peasant in the woods!”

Regina’s hands clenched and Emma tried to keep the relief off of her face. A peasant in the woods was not a peasant in a hotel room. Though, would Zelena classify her as a peasant? Technically, Emma shivered, she was a princess.

Zelean stroked the heart and Regina stood, “Zelena, it doesn’t have to be like this.”

Not for the first time, Emma thought that Regina deserved an award for acting.

“Oh settle down,” Zelena said, “I’m not here to hurt you. Not yet.”

She held up the heart, and from here, Emma could tell the difference from the one she had stashed away. This one wasn’t as dark, it just had swirls of darkness, not the aching blackness that Emma held and stared at for longer than she’d care to admit. Except apparently Regina knew this entire time.

“Give it here.”

“And lose all of my collateral?” Zelena frowned, “Sister, I’m not stupid, not like,” Zelena’s eyes skated over Emma and to the corner that housed David and Snow, “Your merry band of misfits that you’ve allied with. It’s pathetic really, the Evil Queen stooping so low.”

Regina bared her teeth, “So this is it? You want me to die in this grubby diner?”

“Die?” Zelena cackled, “Oh you are so naive. My precious little sister, thinking I would just kill her.” Zelena grinned at Emma like she would smile back, instead Emma just felt nauseous. “If I wanted that you would be dead already. No, your suffering is going to endure, forever.” Zelena stalked forward, “I’m going to take everything from you.” She winked at Emma with a grin and Emma felt herself move back automatically.

Zelena held up the heart and gave it a little bit of a squeeze. Emma glanced at Regina, who too late, grabbed at her chest.

Zelena frowned and gave it a harder squeeze, “Oh sister, you didn’t.”

Regina stood tall, chest out and heaving, as she grasped at her breast.

“Oh, you are cunning,” Zelena raised the heart to her lips, “Kiss Emma Swan.”

“What?” Emma said and turned to look with Regina. She wetted her lips and tried to communicate telepathically that it would be fine. After all, Zelena had demanded it. What was a little kiss between friends?

Regina turned away, “Fine, Zelena.”

Zelena laughed for a second before scowling, “You bitch! I should just kill you, trying to trick me like that.” And with a ferocious glower, she pressed the heart into dust. It sprinkled onto the floor of Granny’s as Zelena cackled, “You won’t be able to hide forever sister!” And then swept out like she hadn’t been there at all.

Regina collapsed at the table, breathing heavily.

“You could have kissed me,” Emma said for a lack of anything better.

Regina squinted at her and then rolled her eyes, “It wouldn’t have helped. You’re prepared?”

“Yes.” Emma nodded. After a grueling session yesterday they had both been confident that she could finally cast the spell without destroying Regina’s heart. Well Regina had been confident and Emma still felt like she wasn’t really doing anything. She’d done it last night and from what she could tell, it was working. Not that she really had a way to test it.

“Good,” Regina nodded.

“It was fake?!” Snow demanded as she rushed their table. Emma feels herself being pushed aside as David and her take seats.

Regina swallowed heavily.

“Whose was it?!” David demanded.

“Regina, how many hearts do you have?” Snow cut in.

“Did you forget that I’m the Evil Queen?” Regina drew herself up in a regal fury, “I took so many hearts,” she spit out, “And this one-”

“You have no idea,” Emma muttered.

The room stopped for a moment and Regina deflated. Emma bit back a chuckle because it was not really funny, even if the chagrined look, Emma didn’t even know Regina could make that face, was.

“There haven't been any deaths reported yet,” Regina muttered, as if it had been longer than a minute since it was squeezed. “The owner might have already died.” She glanced at the door, “And no one’s come to kiss Emma.”

“Well they’re dead,” Emma said shortly, “So that won’t be happening.”

It sounded like Regina muttered, “good,” but it was too quiet for Emma to make out.

David looked a little sick.

“Where’s your heart Regina?”

“Safe.”

Emma was impressed that Regina didn’t even glance at her, just stared down Snow with royal indignation.

“Who had that one?” Snow eyed the pile of dust one of the waitresses was frantically sweeping.

The million dollar question. Emma had tried to get it out of Regina a thousand times, but she had been extremely tight lipped about it.

“It’s none-”

The rest of Regina’s words were cut off by a man throwing open the door. His face was white with horror and after turning around several times he came to a stop at their table. Regina stared at him with her hands fisted.

“Robin Hood?” Snow uttered loudly. Emma blinked as she took him in, the green clothes and closely trimmed beard. She’d seen him before, she realized, but had never paid much attention to him. This was Robin Hood? She’d wondered if he was ever going to show up and she had to admit that she was a little disappointed. He was so plain.

“Regina,” He marched over to their table, “I’m sorry, Rumplestilskin attacked and he threatened Roland-”

Regina held up a hand to stop him, “It’s alright Robin.”

“She has your heart.”

Regina swallowed nervously, “Not-”

“She’s not dead,” Emma cut in with a dark look. “Go back to your Roland.” Whoever that was.

He turned to her, frowning.

“It’s alright,” Regina said, “Go, be safe.”

He hesitated and then nodded without ceremony and left the diner.

“Him?” Emma asked, “Do you even know him?”

Regina looked suddenly like she was cornered, “I knew he would be trustworthy.”

“Because he’s a thief?” Emma shared a look with Snow, who’s eyes were brimming with suspicion. “I mean, come on, Regina. Did you know him from before?” She couldn’t imagine Robin Hood allying with the Evil Queen, but there were stranger things she’d learned about the Enchanted Forest.

“Not exactly.”

“Not exactly? How does that work?” Snow demanded and for the first time Emma was grateful for her mom’s inability to let anything lie.

Regina pinched her nose and sighed, “He’s my soulmate.”

Soulmate? All her previous questions died on her tongue and her mouth tasted like dirt. What did that even mean? Soulmate? Those were real? Was that like her parents or was this something else? Why did it feel like she had been stabbed through her chest?

“You have a soulmate?” Snow leaned forward with excitement, “But you never-”

“Tinkerbell used pixie dust back when I was a young queen. I never approached him, just saw his tattoo, but,” Regina wrung her hands and stood, “yes.”

“From a tattoo?” Emma couldn’t help herself. Her mind was moving in slow motion, was this why Tinkerbell hated Regina so much?

“So who has your real heart?” David asked, caught between frowning at Regina and staring at his wife who kept softly sighing.

“Who has it doesn’t matter,” Emma cut in. A tattoo? Really? Is he the only person on the planet with that specific tattoo? “Unless they also have a tattoo that matches.”

“Emma,” Regina warned.

“Is it someone you can trust?” Snow asked.

“Yes,” Regina growled. “And it’s protected, it’s far safer than the one that was with him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” They watched as she swept out of Granny’s, door slamming behind her.

“She’s touchy,” Emma said as she sipped the cold remains of her coffee.

“Emma,” Snow sighed.

“I know, I know.” Emma stood, “I should probably go too.”

“Okay,” Snow gave a subdued smile.

Emma took the bag down before she could stop herself. And with a slowing heart, confirmed that Regina’s heart is still there. At least, she figures it’s Regina’s. She wouldn’t put it past her to have a third floating somewhere out there.

She pulled it out before she could stop herself. It looked the same as always, a dazzling glow of black with a heavy swirl of red. Emma felt and heard the beat and she finally let out a loud sigh.

It’s safe.

It’s safe and it’s here. It’s in her possession, not Regina’s so-called soulmate.

Emma bristled at the thought. Is there any escape from destiny and fate in this stupid town?

Regina’s soulmate is some boring forest person. Robin Hood, Emma’s brain reminded her, even if the one she met had nothing on the fox she had an embarrassing crush on.

Because fuck, Emma stared at the swirls, she liked Regina. She liked Regina more than she ever thought possible and it’s just one more secret she’s going to have to take with her to New York when this is all over.

A tear traced down her cheek and Emma fruitlessly wiped it away as she returned the bag to its shelf, heart hidden, suddenly too aware that apparently Regina could feel it when she held it.

How did this happen?

There’s a cackle in the hallway and Emma froze, bag hovering in her hand right above its place in the closet. She hurriedly placed it and rushed to the door. The peephole revealed her worst fear, and her heart hammered.

“You can hide, Savior!” Zelena spat with disgust, “but I know you have it!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Emma yelled back and fumbled for her phone, trying to type out a message to Regina.

She felt a surge of power against the door and Emma dropped it as she tried to absorb it. In all of their lessons, Regina had complained that Emma wouldn’t focus and that she only relied on instinctive magic. She had no discipline.

Well hopefully instinct would kick in now.

Sweat beaded down her back as she grit her teeth against the wave that threatened the blow apart the door and Regina poofed beside her.

“Help,” Emma gritted out.

Regina immediately dropped into action. Zelena’s wave subsided and with a shake of their heads they poured their own against her. The exhilarating feeling of doing magic with Regina never faded, it was intoxicating, and Emma imagined if she’d felt this at 17, pregnant and powerless, she would have sold her soul to Rumplesticklin as well. Though, she only got this with Regina, so she probably would have just sold her soul to her.

“Hi sister!” Zelena cackled and another flash thundered against the door. There was a crackling and then the magic stopped.

“Did she give up?” Emma asked.

Regina frowned and stared through the peephole, “She’s not there.”

“Is she hiding?”

They shared a nervous glance and Regina tried the doorknob. It didn’t budge.

“Sometimes it sticks,” Emma said and brushed aside, her hand hot from where it laid against Regina’s waist, “Let me.” She jammed her shoulder against the frame. Emma reeled back, it felt like she’d just shoulder checked a cement wall.

“Oh yes, you know exactly what you’re doing.” Regina snarked, “Why does this matter, we can just teleport.” Regina flicked her wrists, but nothing happened. She frowned and tried again.

“She must have put up some sort of magic barrier,” Regina gritted out, “Help me.”

“Do what?” Emma sighed.

Regina just held out her hand and Emma grabbed it. She could feel Regina pull magic off her as her fingers moved at a rapid pace, twitching back and forth in some pattern that was incomprehensible to Emma. This was a different kind of intoxicating, a merging of presence that had Emma feel warm all the way down to her toes. Regina’s brow furrowed and after a moment she pulled back with a heavy breath.

“Why would she do this?” Regina frowned, “My heart’s still here?”

“Yes,” Emma said as her eyes found the closet. It was open and the bag sat there, mocking her.

Regina stretched and began again, siphoning magic in careful locks and Emma leaned against her, feeling tired.

It took about thirty minutes of Regina carefully prodding the barrier before she broke it, and with sweaty hands and faces, they finally opened it, bracing for some sort of attack.

Nothing came.

“Stay here,” Regina commanded.

“Why? She’s out here. You’re no match against her alone.”

“The wards are still in place within this room, and you need to protect it.”

Emma bit her lip, “Fine, but you better call me the second something happens. Or you figure out what’s going on.”

“I will,” Regina promised.

With a nod she left down the hall and Emma closed the door behind her, resisting the urge to kick it. She picked up her phone from the ground and smiled at the outgoing message.

Helfsaldfalsjdf;wght

At least Regina had figured out what it meant. She sat carefully on the bed, flicking through contacts, debating who she should call. She couldn’t call Regina, Snow probably had no idea and worrying her was a bad idea so close to the due date, Henry, she probably shouldn’t add to the questions that he’d been asking, maybe Killian?

A flash of purple smoke filled the room and Regina staggered in place, face pale.

“She took Henry.”

Emma felt her own heart drop through the floor.

The group gathered in Snow and David’s apartment, Regina’s heart stowed carefully in Emma’s jacket, beating in time with Emma’s own racing one. Regina herself paced up and down while the group watched her.

“There’s no question,” Regina finally said, “We turn it over.”

“Regina,” Snow protested, “It’s your heart.”

“And it’s Henry,” Regina marched over. “He has no idea what’s going on, we have no idea what-” She cut herself off.

“No!” Emma yelled, “She’ll kill you! And then Henry will be without-” She couldn’t finish.

Regina turned her blazing eyes towards her, “Henry doesn’t know what he’s missing. He’s without his memories. And we don’t know what Zelena plans to do yet. My heart is just a part of it. There’s still time.”

“But Reg-”

“You’re taking him back to New York anyway.”

Emma felt like she couldn't breathe. Regina wasn’t supposed to know that. How did she know that? How could she know that? Emma hadn’t talked about it with anyone.

“It would be better for him.” Emma choked out.

Regina’s eyes are glassy and her mouth thin and Emma can’t look at her anymore.

“We still don’t have an idea of how to stop Zelena,” David said, “Giving her your heart seems like surrender. She could control you like Rumple.”

“All that matters is that Henry is safe.” Regina barked out.

Emma clenched her fists as she stared at the floor, her heart pounding. There has to be another way. There needs to be. Regina and Henry both need to be safe. She’s the savior, right? Why can’t she save the two most important people to her?

There’s a rapping on the door and Killian opens it carefully, hook out, but lets the intruder in without protest.

“Belle?” Snow asked as she tumbled through, a huge book clutched in hand.

“I found something,” Belle nodded at everyone but Regina. The book thudded against the table and they all stared at it.

“Found?” Emma asked when no one else said anything.

“Regina,” Belle spat out the name, “asked me to look into Zelena and why she was having so much trouble against her.” Belle flipped to the bookmarked page, “I believe that the pendant she wears is a focus for her power.”

“Of course,” Regina muttered.

“So?” Emma asks, looking between her parents and Killian.

“A focus is used to amplify magic, but you need to pour a lot of magic into it to make it and tie yourself to it. It makes you extremely vulnerable without them.” Regina said.

“So what do you use?” Killian drawled, his eyes gleaming black.

“I don’t,” Regina said shortly, “but it does answer a lot of questions about Zelena.”

“So do we need a spell to get it or something?” Emma asked, trying to cut off their bickering before it started.

“We just need to pull it off,” Regina said, “They can’t be summoned, but you can’t use anchoring spells on them either. We just need to get close enough to take it.”

Emma nodded, that sounded more like her speed, “So we fight, bring your heart-”

“Can’t you just get another one?” Snow asked and winced, “Or make a fake.”

“Zelena isn’t going to give over Henry for nothing,” Regina said, “She’ll be checking after last time, and then Henry will be dead.”

Snow nodded and they outlined a plan. Emma swallowed and fetched the heart from her jacket and handed it to Regina, still unable to look at her, “I guess this is for you to have now.”

She could hear Snow’s gasp and Killian’s grumble as the bag exchanged hands, but she ignored them, eyes bright as she stared at Regina.

Regina nodded, “I suppose.”

“We’ll get him back,” Emma promised.

“We have to.”

The clock tower loomed over them. It feels like Emma always finds herself here, staring as it merrily ticks away. She watched it closely, as if one second it would stop and the curse would restart. Except there was a curse, one they still didn’t know who cast, and it didn’t freeze time, just stole their memories and transported them here.

David stayed with Snow. She’s close enough to labor that no one was letting her near Zelena or leaving her alone. Killian came instead, despite Regina’s protests that he’ll be useless and a liability.

Zelena stood with Rumple flanking her, one hand holding the dagger, and the other curled around Henry’s shoulder. His eyes are wide and his hands bound with rough hewn rope.

“Mom!” He called, looking frantically at Emma, “This crazy lady kidnapped me!”

“It’s going to be okay, Henry.” Emma called back.

“Yes, yes, mother and son, how darling,” Zelena drawled, “Now, sister, do you have it?”

“First,” Regina said, “swear on the Dark One’s dagger that you will let Henry go when I give you my heart and that you won’t hurt him.”

Emma bit her lip to keep from protesting, she’d think of something to explain this to Henry. They just needed him to be safe.

Zelena rolled her eyes, “So dramatic. Yes, I swear on the Dark One’s dagger. Now give it here.”

Emma swallowed heavily as Regina strode forward.

“Rumple,” Zelena commanded, “Go ahead and take it.”

Rumple snarled and took a couple steps forward and Emma could feel Belle twitch beside her. Regina raised a hand at Rumple and stared at Zelena. “My deal was with you, and you alone.”

Zelena rolled her eyes and shook her head at Rumple, who took a couple steps back. The two sisters stared at each other and slowly, Regina took the last ten steps forward. Emma bit her lip and clenched her fist as she watched, and saw Henry’s eyes get even wider as he recognized the bag.

Regina held out the bag and after another long stare, Zelena snatched it with a laugh. She peered inside and a shimmer seemed to erupt around Henry. 

Zelena took out the heart and looked over at Regina, “Finally.” She gave it a gentle squeeze and Regina’s hand went to her chest, but her face didn’t change. “A bit battered,” Zelena said to Rumple, “But that will suit us nicely.”

“Whatever you’re planning Zelena-”

“Oh don’t worry a hair on your head, no point in wasting your last days.” Zelena shoved Henry away from her as she cackled.

“RUN HENRY!” Emma yelled and he took off running towards her.

Regina let out a burst of magic at Zelena’s hand holding the dagger and Zelena screeched, the dagger falling to the ground. Regina ducked and kicked it, and it skittered on the asphalt. There’s a scramble of bodies, towards it, Killian, Belle, Zelena, and Rumple, and it ends with Rumple holding it up delightedly. He disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Typical, Emma barely had time to think before she was wrapping Henry up into a hug and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “Go to Killian and take cover.”

“Why?” He asked as Emma shoved him towards Killian.

She took a couple steps forward until she was next to Regina, her hair mussed and sweating as she battled a crazed looking Zelena. She was thrown back and Emma touched her shoulder.

“Together.”

Regina nodded and they sent out a wave of magic together, the combined force throwing Zelena back several inches. Zelena reared back with a wave of green magic so forceful it scorched a black mark onto the pavement. 

Regina marched toward her and Emma scrambled to follow. Zelena threw out another burst of magic that Regina managed to dodge and Zelena climbed to her feet. Regina was close, too close and Emma started to run. She wasn’t going to make it, she wasn’t going to make it!

“Your precious Savior can’t save you now!” Zelena reached into the bag and pulled out the heart.

Regina stumbled. She was only a yard away and took another step, more of a leap, one hand clutching her chest and the other sailing in a perfect right hook. It crunched against Zelena’s face, blood spurting from her nose and Zelena scrambled, hands flying. The heart slipped from her grip and went flying in the air and Emma stopped, eyes tracking it, only vaguely aware of Regina snatching the pendant off of Zelena’s neck. What a time to have never been very good at baseball.

It landed in Henry’s arms.

“You lost.” Regina said simply.

“NOOOO!” Zelena screamed and writhed as she dropped to the ground. “I’LL GET YOU! I’LL TAKE EVERYTHING YOU’VE EVER LOVED!” Regina calmly placed the anti magic bracelet on Zelena’s arm and turned.

Emma is already racing towards Henry who’s staring at the glowing, pulsing heart with a furrow in his brow.

“I told you to take cover,” Emma muttered out.

Henry doesn’t answer her, “This is a heart?”

“Yes,” Regina said as she reached them.

He looked up at her, his brow still wrinkled, “And that, that was all magic?”

“It was.” Regina answered before Emma could try and deny it.

“Huh,” He bit his lip, “Did magic do something to me? Because,” he squeezed his eyes shut, “Things don’t feel right? It’s like something’s missing, but it doesn’t make any sense, because,” He looked at Emma with watery eyes, “I know nothing’s missing.”

Regina bit her lip, eyes flashing once to Emma “You had your memories taken to protect you and all of us. You had to sacrifice them for all of us. You’re a hero.”

Henry’s eyes shined as Emma carefully took the heart from him, unable to speak.

Regina pulled him into a hug, “Thank you for saving it.”

“Of course,” He smiled up at her.

It’s a reflex, Emma could see, as Regina leaned down and brushed her lips to his forehead. It doesn’t change what happened next, the soaring wave of rainbow energy that encircled the town and rushed out from them as everyone shifted back, eyes wide and mouths open. Henry stared up at Regina with wide eyes.

“Mom!” Henry hugged Regina again and buried his face into her shoulder. Emma saw tears in Regina’s eyes and she bit her lip, feeling tears form in her own. “Moms!” Henry turned and wrapped Emma up too. She thought she’d feel worse, but instead she laughed and laughed as all plans of New York were thrown out the window.

Regina finally released him, dotting kisses to his cheeks, tears trailing down both of their faces.

Henry stared up at them and then frowned at Regina, ”Wait Mom, you were giving up your heart?”

“Anything for you,” Regina said and Emma looked down at it, still clutched in her hand.

“Let’s put it back where it belongs?” Emma suggested.

“Okay,” Regina nodded. Henry and her disentangle and Emma clutched the heart in her hands and stared at her chest, suddenly feeling like she forgot to cram for an end of year exam.

“Emma,” Regina said carefully, “thank you.”

Emma tearfully nodded and with shaking hands hovered over Regina’s chest, and with one last look at Regina, she slowly slid it in.

Regina gasped as it was returned, and her face changed, a mixture of pain and pleasure passed over. She blinked open her eyes, her mouth open and hands clutching her chest and she stumbled.

Emma wiped some of the tears on Regina’s face away, “Does it feel okay? It wasn’t damaged?”

“It feels fine, Emma. Thank you.”

Emma nodded in relief.

“It always felt safe with you.”

Emma smiled, “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Regina’s eyes crinkled as they gaze at each other. Her eyes darted down.

“Oh my god,” Henry sighed, “Kiss already.”

“WHAT?”

“HENRY!”

He rolled his eyes, “You know without my memories I totally thought you guys were exes and that’s why Mom was hanging around so much.”

“What?” Emma choked out.

“Why else would she consistently join us for breakfast, or why she looked at me,” His voice died as his hands scrabbled at the tears on his face. “Anyway, I just, you know, thought that was why you ditched Walsh. And why everything was complicated with my dad, because, you know, obviously you were in love with Mom, but I guessed you fucked it up.”

Emma felt her face pale.

“Language,” Regina scolded though she looked as stricken as Emma did.

Henry rolled his eyes, but a hint of red flushed up on his cheeks, “I just, I wanted it, and maybe it was just because I was forgetting, but,” he looked between them with too shrewd eyes, “I don’t I was wrong.”

They both stared at each other, at a loss for words, and Emma’s eyes traced Regina’s paled face. It’s impossible, she thought, Regina is, well, Regina. She’s a lot of things, but in love with Emma? Emma knows where she stood in the world, knows unattainable things better than most, and Regina. Emma’s always known Regina was unattainable.

Regina wrung her hands together, her eyes darted nervously around and Emma felt her stomach bottom out. Unless?

“You don’t-” Regina started and Emma cut her off before she could lose her nerve.

“I’m in love with you.” She said simply.

She heard a couple gasps around her and just looked at Regina, whose jaw had dropped open and her cheeks had fully turned red.

“You are?” Her voice is almost tinny.

“Yes,” Emma nodded, feeling a burst of confidence and courage take over that she never knew she had. She took a step forward and lightly grasped the sides of Regina’s arms. “I am.”

Regina closed her eyes and breathed out through her nose, and then gently laid a hand on Emma’s cheek, “I’m in love with you too.”

Emma blinked as her heart soared. Was she dreaming? Did the world end? She heard Regina give a little laugh and then whisper, “I’d like to kiss you now.”

Emma could only nod in response and suddenly, Regina’s leaning forward.

It’s better than anything Emma’s felt in her life. Better than breaking the curse with Henry. Rescuing Henry from Neverland. Better than that first hug from Snow and David. Better than the feeling of doing magic with Regina. It goes down to her toes and when they break apart Emma knows she has a dopey smile on her face as she blinked up at Regina.

“Wow,” is all Emma can say.

Regina grinned at her, “Wow indeed.”

[jojo0039]

*Treasure and Secrets* Prayers Part 1

Jo is sitting in history class taking a test.

She has been avoiding JJ all day because she feels guilty for kissing Rafe back.

He slides a note to her and grazes her arm with his hand.

She looks at the note and it says: 'Are you Ok? I love you.'

She looks to see him already watching her.

'I love you' she mouths to him.

He moves over in his seat and grabs her hand interlocking their fingers.

The door opens and a man appears at the door.

"Excuse me."

The guy catches everyone's attention.

"Mr. Sunn, can I borrow Pope and Joanna for a minute?" the man asks.

"We're in the middle of a test right now." Mr. Sunn tells him.

Jo glances at Pope confused.

They glance up toward the door to the man standing in the doorway.

"I'm from the Vanderhorst Foundation. I need to speak to the two please." the man speaks.

"Mr. Heyward, Miss Mills, this man is for you." Mr. Sunn tells them.

Jo glances at Kie and JJ who are watching them intensely.

Jo stands up and follows Pope out to the hall.

"First, I would just like to say how sorry I am about how the scholarship went down." The man tells Pope.

"It's ok. I kinda figured I lost it after I walked out of the interview. You know Joanna is the one who helped me prepare for the interview. I couldn't have gotten that far without her."

Pope tells the man as he smiles in Jo's direction.

Jo gives him a small smile back.

"Nevertheless, some of us were very impressed by your story and wanted to learn more about the Royal Merchant." the man tells him.

"That's impressive and all, but what does that have to do with me?" Jo asks.

"One of our benefactors heard of your name and asked to pass along these notes."

The man hands both Pope and Jo a letter.

"I can't guarantee anything about the scholarship, but this family is very powerful and influential. You caught their attention. If you get in their good graces who knows what can happen. Good luck to both of you."

The man walks away and Jo looks down at the envelope.

She turns it around and where the wax seal is, is the wheat symbol that is the same as on the gold.

"Holy shit Pope, look at this." she shows him.

"Oh shit! We gotta show the guys."

They rush back into their seats.

"What the hell was that about?" Kie asks them.

Jo hands JJ the envelope.

"Look on the back." She whispers to him.

He turns it over and sees the wheat symbol.

"What the fu-" He exclaims catching the attention of Mr. Sunn.

"Fu-fu-fudge." JJ catches himself awkwardly.

'Nice save." Jo whispers.

                                         *************************

As soon as the bell rings, they rush out of the classroom and head to the library.

Kie and JJ follow behind them.

"Will you guys slow down and tell us what is going on?" JJ asks as they pass the librarian who glares at them.

"Seriously you guys what is going on?" Kie asks as they walk over to a computer away from other students.

Jo sits down at the computer and pulls up the search engine.

"Ok so I read my letter, and apparently this family that sent Pope his letter is my family as well." Jo tells them.

"What?" Kie and JJ ask at the same time.

"I am a distant relative of this Limbrey family through my mother's side." She says to them.

"That's not even the best part, read this." Pope hands JJ his letter.

"I can't read cursive." he tells them sheepishly.

Kie takes the letter with an eye roll.

"Dear Mr. Heyward, I am reaching out because I have material evidence that can exonerate John B. Routledge."

She pauses and they all look at each other in shock.

"It is of vital importance that you and Ms. Mills come and meet me in person at my offices at 27 King Street, Charleston at 8 p.m. sharp tonight. Please come alone just the two of you. Regards, C. Limbrey." Kie reads.

 "Charleston?" JJ scoffs.

"Yea that's like an eight-hour drive plus the ferry. How would we get there tonight?" Pope hisses out.

"We would have to leave like right now." JJ states.

Kie stares at Jo.

"How do you know you're related to this Limbrey anyway?" she asks her.

Jo shows her the other piece of paper of ancestry.

"That's my mom's maiden name." She points to the name.

"The letter just says that this C Limbrey person just wants to talk and to get to know me." she informs them.

"So like what does material evidence even mean?" JJ asks.

"It means that this person can clear John B's name." Pope answers.

"Then shit, we have to go to Charleston." JJ exclaims loudly causing the librarian to shush him.

Jo gets on the computer and with Pope leaning over her shoulder she looks up the name Limbrey.

Pope and Jo tune out JJ arguing as they share a look.

"Guys look at this." Jo catches their attention.

"Whoever this Limbrey person is, I think they might be related to the captain of the Royal Merchant." Jo informs them.

"So are you saying you might be a descendant of this person?"  JJ asks her.

"I think so. If we do go, I can get answers from this person. And we can find out what they want with us so we can get that evidence." Jo tells them.

                                            ************************

Jo is standing outside her dad's house waiting for the group when Topper pulls in with the jeep.

He gets out and makes his way over to her.

"Where are you going?" he asks her noticing her bookbag.

"I'm going to Charleston for the night." she tells him.

"Why? Do the parents know?" he questions.

"Yea they know it's fine. Get this, I got this letter about some long lost relatives and they wanna meet me so I'm going." she tells him the half-truth.

"What? Are you serious? Maybe you should talk to your dad before you go." he tries hesitantly.

They watch as Pope pulls into the driveway with his dad's truck.

Topper scoffs.

"Of course, your little crew is going with you."

Topper shakes his head as JJ gets out of the truck.

"Do we have a problem here?" JJ asks coming nose to nose with Topper.

"Yea a huge problem, you know you're gonna get her in trouble for going when her dad isn't here." Topper argues.

Jo pushes herself between the two boys.

"Enough. Top I'm going to Charleston. I will keep you updated about this long-lost family of mine." She then turns to JJ.

"You come on let's go." She pushes JJ back towards the truck.

"Real nice seeing you Top! I'll take real good care of Jo!" Jo slaps her hand over his mouth.

"Let's go troublemaker."

She laughs as she opens the back door and climbs into the back seat with Kie.

"How did it go with your parents?" she asks her friend.

"They weren't happy, but they let me go. They threatened me with boarding school." she informs her.

"What?!  You're not going to boarding school! I won't let that happen." Jo tells her.

"Same. We won't let that happen Kie." JJ agrees.

                                                  ******************************

They make it to the ferry and board with the truck.

They all decide to sit in the bed and talk.

"My parents are so paranoid of me being a pogue. Like its the worst thing that could ever happen." Kie complains.

"I hear they got good weed at boarding school though." JJ comments.

"That's not the point. There's good weed here!" Jo argues.

"I'm not going. They're gonna have to kidnap me, tie me up, and throw me in a van." Kie retorts.

"Well, I say that we just crumble some herb right now." JJ tells them as he sits down beside Jo.

"I have to tell you guys something." Jo tells the group.

She hesitates before she finally speaks.

"My dad is in the Bahamas with Ward. I think he's working with him to get the gold." Jo tells them.

"What?"

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"Are you serious?"

They all shout at once.

"So what are you gonna do? If he is working with Ward, he can't find out that we're trying to clear John B's name. It would ruin everything." Kie tells her.

"I know! I dont know what to do. Should I even go back? Or should I just stay at my mom's after this?" Jo looks very upset.

"Hey." JJ grabs her hand.

"No matter what we're behind you. I am behind you." he tells her intensely.

The look in his eyes makes her feel so guilty for her little interaction with Rafe.

JJ hands her the joint he just finishes rolling.

She takes it and takes a long drag, letting the smoke fill up her lungs.

"So have either one of you been able to hit up John B on that number?" Pope asks.

"I've tried like twenty million times." Kie answers.

JJ laughs as he takes the joint from Jo.

"Some random lady at a hotel keeps answering." Kie states.

"I bet he borrowed the phone to send that message then put it back." Jo says.

Kie nods her head.

"That would make sense." she agrees.

"Well until we hear from them again, we gotta try and clear his name. Right now this letter and this Limbrey person is our best bet." Pope states.

"Yea if I am related to this person we can definitely use that to our advantage." Jo comments.

"Right we have to stay on task. That's why we love you guys." JJ jokes about Jo and Pope.

Kie hands the joint to Pope.

"What Pope are you gonna be today?" she asks.

Pope shakes his head.

"I'm good." he refuses the joint.

She smiles at him softly.

"Good Pope. Boring Pope."

She sits down and passes it back to JJ.

Jo's phone buzzes in her pocket.

 She looks and sees that Rafe is trying to call her.

She just watches as it rings and then stops.

JJ watches her as she keeps her eye on her phone screen.

A text comes through and it's from Rafe.

'I need to talk to you. Please call me back.'

She doesn't respond and puts her phone back in her pocket.

"You ok?" JJ asks her.

"Yea totally fine. Just Topper trying to start some shit through text. Nothing I can't handle." she lies.

It starts to scare her at how easy it is to lie to her best friends and boyfriend about Rafe.

[nobody-for-sure]

Language Barrier

Did I mention this fic is self-indulgent? Because it is. Also, not me hoping certain writers I respect accidentally stumble onto my work and enjoy it.

Chapter 4

(~2.3k words, see chapter list here)

You feel like an idiot.

You probably look like one, too. In the past twenty four hours, you've jumped off a fifty-foot wall, literally asked a god to kill you, and been shuffled back to the Knights' headquarters by three familiar faces who were definitely not expecting you to blurt out, "Please don't bow to me, we should check what color my blood is first, just in case!"

...To be fair, they were probably more surprised about not being able to understand you rather than what you said, but still. An idiot. You can already tell this is going to be one of those things you lie awake cringing about years down the road.

Your sole saving grace is the fact that it was still early when the four of you arrived back in town. So as the three women ushered you through the winding streets and up the stairs, you noticed only two other citizens milling about, both of whom seemed too preoccupied with their own business to take much notice of your group.

Of course, your mind is running a mile a minute the whole time. How was I supposed to know this wasn't an imposter au??? Because it certainly doesn't appear to be, if the kneeling and relieved looks are anything to go by. You try to tell yourself that you couldn't have known, that it was better to be safe than sorry once you saw the statue and heard the whispers, but it's hard to convince yourself as you watch Jean slump down into her office chair the moment you return, rubbing her temples and looking like she hasn't slept in weeks.

Apparently, hearing your god went for a stroll through town before jumping from a high ledge and disappearing will do that to you.

Lisa pats her back sympathetically while murmuring something you can't make out. Meanwhile, Amber energetically inserts herself into your field of vision. "Tgi o zkm aue mtonzetg xaue kigxm? Kbgn aue ejgkxrg tkzgk? Jrauc aue kqor mtonzksuy uz qtoxj?"

You stare blankly. She smacks a hand to her forehead in obvious abashment. "Nmg, yvuunc, exxuy, o zumxul... sxk... rro zyap zkm aue g yygrm lu xkzgc." She sighs a little - mostly at herself, it seems - before smiling sheepishly and gesturing wordlessly toward the conference table on one side of the room. Hesitantly, you move to take a seat. She beams. "Egqu! Rro kh znmox qigh nzoc zgnz xkzgc-"

"Xkhsg," Jean cuts in, making both of you look in her direction. She gives you a slight nod before focusing in on Amber. "Rro kqgz kxgi lu zgnz. Ykxknz ksuy krvukv jo kqor aue uz xknzgm jgkzyto."

Amber salutes, and Jean rattles off what you assume are orders of some kind before the outrider gives her a firm nod. Turning to you, she sweeps a bow before offering you a cheerful wave and disappearing through the office door. Lisa gives Jean one last pat on the shoulder before heading out herself. (Whether she has her own directives or she's simply out to brunch, you're not sure.)

Meanwhile, the Acting Grand Master rummages around in her desk before pulling out an alarmingly thick stack of papers. Yikes. You certainly don't envy her workload. You watch as she selects a couple sheets from the top, places them on the center of her desk, and proceeds to bring the rest... over to you. They're blank, you realize, as she sets a feather pen next to the stack in front of you. Curiously, you look at her, but she just gives you a vague smile and gestures towards them before disappearing out the door as well. You listen to the click as the door closes behind her. For a moment, you do nothing but stare at the plain stack of papers in awe.

Did... did I just get Klee'd?

Jean returns a short while later to find you scribbling furiously. You've already gone through four... five sheets of paper, though none of them are full. You give her the barest hint of a nod as she offers you a glass of water, before she returns to her desk and whips out a quill to do her own work.

You're writing down everything. People, mostly. Every playable character, future playable character, might-be-a-playable-character makes the list. You've got one for each nation that's been released so far, one for what you know of Sumeru, and one that covers both Snezhnaya and Khaenri'ah, labelled "People to avoid (just to be safe)". Good-looking or not, some of those people are definitely psycho; now that you're safe, you remind yourself that you're too young to die. Maybe after you've met all the other characters, finally seen Fontaine and Natlan, and learned how to do all that over-powered magic shit isekai protagonists usually do, then you can seek them out. But that's at the bottom of your list for now.

The top of your list being, obviously, figure out a way to communicate and find out what the fuck is going on.

You furrow your brow thinking about it. As things stand, it seems inevitable that you'll have to learn this strange language of theirs in order to get by, but... in all honesty, you're not sure you can. Not just because languages aren't your forte, but because you're literally not sure your vocal cords have the same capabilities theirs do. There are so many guttural sounds and long, vowel-less mishmashes that they often strike you as a keyboard smash vocalized. If it weren't for a few slight regularities you're starting to pick up on, you'd almost believe it was just that.

A light tap on the door makes both you and Jean look up. There's a soft click as it opens, and a giant stack of pancakes enters confidently.

Oh my god, that's Noelle.

Said maid-knight breezes over to the conference table, shifts the loaded platter easily to one hand as she offers you a delicate curtsy, then holds it out to you with a smile. Evidently, this ridiculous amount of food is all for you.

Come to think of it, I am pretty hungry, you realize. The apple you ate with Venti was surely hours ago now, if the amount of light breaching the windows is any indication. Hastily, you straighten up the papers and push them to the side. She sets the platter down and takes a step back, watching and waiting attentively as you spear a large bite and stick it in your mouth.

If the apple was good, the pancakes are heavenly. They're thick and fluffy, with just the right amount of sweetness, and they practically melt on your tongue as you dive back in for more. At this rate, maybe you really will eat them all. You did skip dinner yesterday, after all. (For no reason, in retrospect. Thanks, unnecessary paranoia.) Noelle beams when you give her a thumbs up and go for another bite, and in the background, you notice some of the tension ease from Jean's shoulders as well.

Then a hand reaches over the table and grabs your papers.

"Mmm!" you object, with a mouth full of food.

The culprit raises his hands in defense. "Es ykomuruvg, xaue kigxm, zah jo kqor uz kqgz g quur zg yonz, lo aue ztuj jtos," Kaeya says coolly, and you wonder when he even came in. It must have been right after Noelle, but you were too focused on the pancakes to notice. You eye him warily as he pores over the top sheet - Mondstadt - before sighing and shaking his head at Jean. "Kbo xkbkt tkky yonz zvoxiy kxulkh. Aue egs ztgc uz qyg xau erkbur tgoxgxhor, zah zo yquur kqor kbkc zum xau qxuc zai zau xul ya."

You assume that's the long way of saying "I can't read shit", because Jean sighs for the nth time as he returns the papers, not even bothering to flip through the rest of them. "Ykny mtoquur xul etg jtoq lu yjxuikx tu knz tuozgazoy znmox cut," she responds. "Zah kny ztykuj zikvdk uz jtol mtonzetg. Eh rrg yztauiig, yonz ztygc jkyuvvay uz tkvvgn."

At this, everyone in the room turns to look at you. You stiffen, and your gaze flits from face to face, trying to figure out what might have been said. After a moment, you offer them a shrug, not knowing what else to do. This seems to be an acceptable (if not expected) response, though, and Kaeya turns back to Jean. "Unc kyrk joj aue jtky xul?"

"Xul cut, zyap g krvaui yxknzu. Xkzlg egjxkzyke, o ztuj ztgc uz srkncxkbu sknz. O qtonz jzo kh zykh lo kc tgi kxamol zau erzigdk enc yonz yo mtotkvvgn lo kc tgi."

He nods, casting another glance your way before moving to sit down at the other end of the table. This seems to be the end of the conversation, because Jean lowers her head to refocus on her work, while Kaeya stares pensively into space, mindlessly running his thumb over the ridges of a coin in his hand. Only Noelle turns back to you and offers a reassuring smile.

She still has yet to say a word, and you realize that's her way of being considerate of your situation. Still, between her and Venti, you're starting to realize just how much you can communicate with only a look. You give her a small smile back, and gesture to the chair beside yours - she's been standing attentively the whole time, but she's going to be there a while if you're really going to eat all of these. She shakes her head and waves her hands as if to say she couldn't possibly, but when you gesture again, she relents and takes a seat. You give a satisfied nod and return to eating. For once, the silence is almost comfortable.

You're almost finished with the food when the next interruption comes.

Correction: you are finished, the food is not.

You push your plate back to Noelle, a slightly guilty look on your face, when there's a series of sharp taps on the door. You jump a little, but no one else does; in fact, Kaeya and Noelle have no reaction at all, while Jean only looks up long enough to say, "Kygkrv ksui to."

This time, it's Eula who enters, looking equal parts graceful and imposing as she strides over the threshold. She scans the room like a hawk, and when her eyes land on you, she takes several steps in your direction before dropping to one knee and placing a hand on her chest. "Zo yo g zgkxm xutun uz zkks aue, xaue kigxm. Nmaunzrg knz ztkxxai ykitgzysaixoi kxg zyus kzgtazxulta, kygkrv cutq zgnz o sg zg xaue kiobxky."

To your credit, you do not blurt out the same stupid thing as the last time someone kneeled to you. Instead, you give her a slight bob of your head, even though it's somewhat off-putting to see someone so prideful kneeling before you. On the other hand, you suppose it's actually quite in-character of her to be so formal, so you try not to be too bothered by it. "It's nice to meet you, Eula."

You think that might be the first normal thing you've said so far.

She gives you a searching look before dipping her head in acknowledgement and rising to face Jean. "Xul knz kqgy lu eitkoiollk, xkhsg jtg o zorvy knz zyor. Erkzgtazxulta, ujkhrg jtg kyuxiay zyas kh zau to knz jrkol kxkncksuy, kyagikh knz vsgi tu ktovytumgxj ygc ezvsk."

Jean nods, looking disappointed but not surprised. "Juuzyxkjta. Qtgnz aue xul mtoum rrg knz egc zau kxknz. Kygkrv kqgz g zgky, aue ejgkxrg cutq unc kxkc mtozogc xul, tknz."

Eula nods, dips her head to you again, and then takes a seat across from her fellow captain. Meanwhile, Noelle rises with equal grace and takes your plate, curtsying again before leaving without a sound.

This time, the ensuing silence is infinitely more awkward. You no longer have anything to occupy you, so you sit stiffly, listening to the tick of the clock on the wall. Eula seems to be doing the same, and Kaeya flips his coin idly. You're not quite sure what you're all waiting for, mind you, but you figure it's best to just go along with it at this point.

You consider working the lists some more, just to make sure you didn't miss anything, but you already know you didn't. Let's face it: anything worth remembering, you were way too invested in Genshin to forget easily. The mere existence of your little lists was just the result of sheer boredom, and not because you thought they'd actually do anything for you. Still, you're considering reading back over them, just to feel busy, when a sudden commotion erupts in the hallway.

Three voices blend together: one annoyed, one gruff, and one whiny. Evidently, the racket has caught the others' attention as well, because every single one of you is looking towards the door when it suddenly bursts open, revealing a straining outrider. "Tkbk lo xkzygs iaroj yvuxj knz ykmxgni, knz mtozig jtgxm xkzygs rrozy jkzykawkx xaue kitkykxv!" she exclaims, dragging... something you can't see from here... behind her. Hers is the annoyed voice.

The whiny one, possibly the 'thing' being dragged, responds. "Ng, ztgi kc zyap zxuy yonz zau xkzgr? O kbgn ykigrv uz kh, ymtuy uz mtoy!"

The last voice is drowned out by the scraping of chairs as both Jean and Eula rise to their feet. Amber gives one final tug, and she and a figure clad in green go tumbling onto the office floor.

Now you're on your feet as well. "Venti!?"

Rubbing the back of his head, the bard peels himself off the ground with a sheepish chuckle. "Urrkn, xaue kigxm."

You gape at him. Your brain is rapidly churning out questions: Why did you dump me at Windrise and leave? Why did Amber bring you here? How did she find you? ...Why was she dragging you?

All of those questions fly out the window, however, when Diluc enters behind him, looking past everyone else in the room to address Jean. "Sorry xul knz egrkj," he says calmly. "Yg you tgi kky, we zon tg jkzikvdkta vsah to knz jgux."

......whAT?!

[kpforpresident]

Can I have “graded exams get handed back to the wrong person and they have to swap” for 100 please. Bonus points for unrequited pining from a distance.

We all know I am a hoe for bonus point(s). 

In my brain this is how NY AU Clexa met. Love a good gen elective, amirite?

///

Clarke slumps forward in her tiny plastic seat, balancing her forehead on a stubby number two pencil. Around her other first year students mill around the large lecture hall, their laughter echoing off the vaulted ceilings. Despite the early hour of the day everyone was awake and bright-eyed, the tantalizing excitement of a long weekend well within grasp. While the intro level Ethics class wasn’t Clarke’s favorite subject, as a mandatory requisition for any first year she was just happy to be in a class with her friends with a professor who wasn’t a stick in the mud, like Pike was. 

Clarke groans slightly, twirling the writing utensil through her fingers as she glances around the large lecture hall. She mimes sticking it into her jugular, laughing when her best friend swatted away her hand with a disgruntled hiss. To her right Raven is hunched over, cradling a large coffee in between her hands, sleek dark ponytail falling carelessly around her shoulders as she takes a delicate sip from the steaming takeaway cup. 

“Why the fuck do we have an eight am Friday lecture?” Raven hisses to no one in particular, pulling her hoodie tighter around her face in an effort to block out a larger amount of the fluorescent light that buzzed overhead. On her other side Octavia grunts in agreement, unscrewing the metallic lid of her water bottle to chug more ice water, looking vaguely green as she did so. 

Clarke eyes them both, crooking an unamused eyebrow as she did. The professor burst through a side door, shoving an extremely disorganized stack of papers at a harried teacher’s assistant as she bustled towards the front of the room. The long suffering TA– Sarah- stood with a sigh, moving to start handing back their midterms as everyone slowly took their seats, the chatter dying down slightly. Clarke angles herself in her tiny desk to better look at her two best friends, who look like that had been murdered and reanimated shortly prior to the start of class. Clarke licks her finger and swipes amusedly at a smudge of mascara under Raven’s eye with her thumb, giving up when Raven swatts at her with a snarl. 

“If you two delinquents hadn’t decided to go shot for shot with the football team last night with a death wish and a mickey of tequila, you might’ve not been feeling so rough this morning,” Clarke says primly, tapping her pencil on the table smartly with a flourish. Raven leans over, picking up the pencil without breaking eye contact. Still staring directly into Clarke’s eyes, she snaps it in two before dropping the pieces in Clarke’s lap and facing forward again. 

“Lincoln’s hot as hell, Clarke,” Octavia snaps, holding her water bottle to her forehead as if she could ease her hangover through pure iron will alone. “I refuse to let those prissy cheerleaders out-drink me- I could snap those bitches in two.”

Clarke rolls her eyes as Sarah trudges by tiredly, shoving a stack of papers at them before moving on towards the next row. Clarke passes Octavia's and Raven’s exam down, ribbing Raven good naturedly on the 98% emblazoned in bed on her paper. She grimaces sympathetically at the 78% on Octavia’s as she flips her own copy, to be met with a perfect score. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion as she gapes at the score on top. 

Raven rips the paper out of her hand, eyes the size of dinner plates, hangover forgotten. 

“No fucking way Griffin got a perfect test score,” she hoots, flourishing the paper in the air. Clarke leaps to grab the paper before Raven jabs someone’s eye out, and sticks her tongue out at her friend before smoothing out the now-crumpled sheet of paper. 

“It’s not even my paper, guys- whose last name in this section is Woods?” Clarke whispers, disappointed as Profesor Indra dimmed the lights to boot up her old fashioned overhead projector- she claimed that it was superior to powerpoint slides. She was simply too terrifying to argue with. 

Raven quirks an eyebrow at her before she tilts her head towards the other end of the aisle, at the girl who sat alone at the end. Clarke leans over, curious, before slamming back in her seat, paper clutched in now-sweaty hands. 

“Lexa- Lexa’s last name is Woods?” Clarke stammers in a low voice, feeling a blush break over her face. Thankfully, in the now-darkened room Raven just tips a glance her way before she turns around to listen to Indra, who had launched into an impassioned tirade about gender equality in proportion to social race construct and did not seem to be in danger of derailment. 

Lexa.

The object of the secret crush that Clarke had harbored for the past two months sits in a far end seat, a curtain of dark hair obscuring her face as she leans over a piece of lined paper, painstakingly writing notes as Indra talked. A cream coloured knit sweater slouches around her slim frame, the sleeves pushed up over her elbows so she could write without fear of smearing lead. 

Clarke lets loose a little sigh as she stares at Lexa. How she angled towards her paper to write, glasses perched precariously on a freckled nose. Clarke had had a huge crush on her since the second day of class, when Clarke had tripped over a ripple in the decades-old carpet and had fallen face first into Lexa’s lap. Lexa had caught her, smiling softly, and Clarke had fallen head over heels. 

Clarke’s daydream was interrupted as a wad of paper bounces off of her face and falls softly into her lap. She blinks rapidly as Octavia’s unimpressed face swims into her field of vision. Clarke flips her off with both hands as Octavia rolls her eyes. 

“Clarke, stop drooling over that girl like the worthless bisexual you are, grow a pair, and talk to her,” Octavia hisses as she jerks a subtle thumb in Lexa’s direction. “I’m sick of hearing you moon over her with those big dopey eyes- go do something about it, Griffin!”

Clarke’s eyes widen in panic as she slaps Octavia’s hand down, ducking her head as Indra pauses mid sentence to sweep a disproving eye over the auditorium. Phones everywhere drop onto desks as dutiful faces turn back to the front of the room. Indra resumes lecturing as she flips transparent sheets on the projector screen, disruption quelled. 

Clarke traces her finger’s over the loop of Lexa’s name, thinking. She ducks Octavia’s glower, nodding her head decisively as she did so. 

“Yeah ok, I will,” Clarke mutters as she kicks a petulant leg against the desk in front of her. A redheaded guy turns around, shooting her a heavy glower as she did so. She throws up an apologetic hand as the boy turns back around, smoothing a thoughtful hand across her hair as Indra’s voice fades into the background.

Fifty agonizing minutes later, Indra flips the light back on, students blinking into the bright light as the door flies open, chatter creeping in from the hallway. Clarked sucks in a fortifying breath as she shoots up from her seat, promptly ignoring Raven and Octavia’s protests as she blows by them, test clutched in a sweaty hand. She pushes down the nerves churning in her gut as she shoves her way out of the throng of students waiting to exit the classroom. 

“Hey! Lexa!” Clarke cringes at the volume of her voice, moving forward to dodge her classmates as the object of her admiration pauses just outside the door, bright green eyes questioning as she trains her gaze on an obviously frazzled Clarke. She shoulders her backpack over a single shoulder, moving to the side as Lexa steps outside of the doorway to let her pass. 

“Sorry, just- they accidentally gave me your test,” Clarke manages to get out, practically feeling her heartbeat in her throat as it beats a tattoo against her ribcage. 

“Nice job, by the way,” she adds, handing over the perfect test with Indra’s impressed marks emblazoned on the top of the front page. Lexa smiles slightly as she extends a dainty hand to take the test back, tucking it into a side pocket as she shifts a heavy looking textbook to her other hand. 

 “Thanks, Clarke,” Lexa says quietly as she tucks a lock of hair behind a petite ear. Clarke smiles involuntarily at hearing this beautiful girl say her name, leaning against the brick wall and angling in to better catch Lexa’s soft speech. “Here, I got yours accidentally as well–”

Lexa pulls a neatly folded test from her back pocket and gives it to Clarke, Clarke taking it with a nod of thanks as she winces at the grade on top of her exam. A bold 76% stares back at her as she moves her hand to cover the offensive grade, in front of this beautiful girl who just single handedly destroyed the curve on this exam. 

Lexa shifts her weight as she stares at Clarke unsurely, worrying a dusky pink lip between perfectly straight teeth as she stares at Clarke. Clarke is trying very hard to communicate nonverbally with the floor that she’d like to be taken alive as a gentle cool hand touches her wrist. 

“Hey, Clarke- if you want to study together before the next exam, I usually study in the Wilson library on the corner of campus. I’m happy to go over things with you, if you’d like.” Clarke flicks her gaze down to that hesitant hand as her face warms slightly, the knot in her chest unclenching. 

“I’d love that, Lexa,” Clarke manages to stammer out as she meets Lexa’s kind gaze. Clarke jams her sweaty hands into her jeans pockets as they slowly start walking down the hallway together, towards what Clarke knows is Lexa’s politics class. Not that she knew her Monday schedule or anything. 

That would be weird. 

Lexa nods once as a gentle smile touches her mouth, slipping a scrap of paper into Clarke’s hand as she reaches for the doorknob of her next class. 

“That’s my number,” -she jerks her chin at the tiny slip of paper Clarke is now clutching as if it contains the coordinates to the lost Dead Sea Scrolls. “I accept payment in coffees from pretty girls- I take it black with honey in it.” 

Clarke stammers out some sort of an acceptance as she stands frozen outside of the door for a long moment. Snapping out of her daze as Lexa shoots her a small smile from the other side of the class. She does an exhilarated little wiggle as she skips off, practically floating as she heads to the arts building. 

Ethics was her new favorite class.

[mxchellesworld]

Discuss!

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis; Where the team discusses the question ‘do you kiss after head’, you find out Spencer has too little experience to answer the question so you help him out

Warnings; smut, oral (male receiving), sub!spencer, praise, slight degradation 

a/n; LMAO im so sorry for disappearing again life has been actually kicking my ass but anyways lately i’ve been thinking about subby early season spence so here we go,, hope you enjoy!

***

Another Friday night and the team was out bar crawling after an easy case. But this time all members were there as it reached 11pm which was rare. Usually Hotch and JJ would have been home by 10:30 and Spencer wouldn’t have been there at all. But there was something light in the air which had all parties concerned sitting packed in a booth, laughing after each sip of their drinks. 

Since it wasn’t your first rodeo together you knew how the night went. It started off with Rossi offering to buy the first few rounds, always whiskey but he made an exception for Penelope. Then again who would deny her anything. 

Once the drinks were flowing and lips got a little loose, the questions would start popping in at the top of your heads. However these were not your run of the mill, ‘hows so and so doing?’ ‘done your taxes yet?’ oh no. The name of the game was discuss where you would all think of a question which would help you dig just a tiny bit deeper into your coworkers sex lives. 

Maybe if you were all sober then you’d avoid thinking of each other in such positions, pun intended, yet in this state your prying minds were open and your stomachs were ready to grow abs from bending over in laughter. 

You raised the margarita glass up clinking it with a fork to get the tables attention. Everyone including Aaron had a smile on their face, ready to hear the intrusive question for the night. 

“Ok my fellow profilers, doctor, and tech genius,” you added pointing at Spencer then Pen, “Do you kiss your partner after they give you head? Discuss!” you finished in your most formal voice. 

Right as you took a swig of your drink the mixed responses of yes and no filled your small space. 

“Why wouldn’t you? You guys especially, if someones willingly trying to swallow then you damn well owe them a kiss,” Emily finished earning nods and ‘exactly’s from JJ, Pen, and yourself. 

“Ok but thats weird. I just can’t explain it but its a no go for me,” Morgan finished. This only gained him a scoff and raised voices, “Hotch man help me out here,” he said looking over to the man hiding his smirk behind the amber liquid. 

“I have to agree with the ladies here Derek,” he said curtly. 

The girls yelped and hooted at Hotch for siding with them while Morgan sat with his arms crossed being the singular person left out as even Rossi agreed. Meanwhile you noticed the presence next to you had shrunk back and wasn’t too active in the conversation. 

“So Spence do you kiss your partner after they,” you trailed off shaking your fist by your cheek and poking your tongue in the side. 

He coughed as he instantly sat up quicker. Even under the dim lights of the bar you could still see the blush creeping up from his neck to his ears and the slightest tint on his cheeks. 

“Oh I uh- I never-” he said looking anywhere but your eyes. 

“You don’t kiss them?” you said raising your brows. 

“No! I-i mean yes. I would I think b-but I haven’t had the chance to actually partake in such.. activities,” he finished finally taking a look into your eyes. 

You could tell he was waiting for you to laugh in his face for being so inexperienced but you felt far from it. If anything you wished you could be the one to show him things. 

That sweet boy had you wrapped around his finger and he didn’t even know it. Maybe it was his naivety considering how exceptionally smart he was. Or maybe it was the cute sweater vests he wore and now he nervously tucked his hair behind his ears. All you knew was that you wanted Spencer Reid and tonight was your night to make it happen. 

You hummed taking in the information, “Well that’s not a bad thing Spence. Everything takes time,” you said putting your hand on his arm for comfort and giving him a smile. 

Going to turn back to face the table you almost didn’t hear Spencer go to speak again, “Do you?” 

Got him.

“Why don’t you find out pretty boy,” you said with a wink as you downed the rest of your marg. In the corner of your eye you could see Spencer shifting in his seat, subtly moving his bag to cover the slowly growing tent in his slacks. 

As the night went by you couldn’t help but really give him a show. You had popped open a button or two on the long sleeve you had on, since it was getting stuffy in the booth. Though when you leaned forward and jutted your chest out, the soft inhale of a breath from the man next to you was just serving as motivation to get bolder. 

For the last hour you called it quits on the alcohol and drank a few glasses of water before you drove home. Spencer had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since your little interactions. 

The team had all gotten up to say their goodbyes. Rossi going by and giving everyone a kiss on each cheek. Derek having to quite literally rangle Penelope from talking to passing by groups on their way out. Then there were two. 

You turned to the side where Spencer was nursing on his coke, “Hey pretty boy, it’s late, let me give you a ride home,” you said grabbing your belongings. 

“Y-yeah ok. Thanks Y/n,” he said getting up. You’d noticed how he still had the burnt orange bag over his crotch. He couldn’t still be hard could he? Well you’d love to find out. 

As gentlemanly as he was, Spencer opened the door for you to exit the building first. The whip of fresh night air cooling on your exposed chest and legs under your skirt. 

You unlocked your car and stepped in, Spencer waiting to hear the little beep signaling his side was open. As he sat down you heard him let out a little whimper. Your head shot over to look at him, you could tell from the flush on his cheeks he didn’t mean to let the noise out. 

Holding in your chuckle you started the ignition and pulled out of the lot, “Can I put on some music?” 

“Yeah I don’t mind,” he said looking over at you with his lips in a line. If it was anyone else, they’d probably think he was uncomfortable but you loved his tiny awkward smiles. 

The ride to his apartment was mostly silent besides a rare quip from Spencer about paper work or fact about an older building you had passed by. It fascinated you to no end hearing him talk. Spencer was a hand speaker, meaning he always used his hands waving them around and making gestures. The pale digits had you captivated. Probably a driving hazard but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. 

You pulled up into one of the visitor spots and put the car in park. You looked over to see Spencer almost contemplating something. You’d seen the look on his face before when he was looking over puzzles. 

“Somethin on your mind Doc?” you said with a small smile. As cute as he looked when he was nervous, you’d never want him to feel uncomfortable around you. 

“Would you-,” he cleared his throat, “Wo- Would you maybe want to c-come inside?” 

“Of course Spence I’d love to,” you finished with a reassuring nod. 

As he led you upstairs you were giddy with anticipation. So what if nothing happened. He was your friend first and you were glad he was letting you into his personal space. Even if you wanted nothing more than to have him writhi-

“Y/n?” 

The door closing snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t even realize you were in his living room. The dark green walls and shelves bursting with books put a grin on your face, “Sorry Doc, just caught up in my thoughts. What did you say hun?” 

His brows practically raised to his hairline from hearing the pet name. While he was used to the names coming from Garcia they took a whole different light coming from your lips. 

“I was asking if you wanted water or something,” he said fiddling with the keys in his hands. Eyes darting everywhere but your face so you wouldn’t be able to see the flush rising on his cheeks. 

“No I’m fine thanks for asking though,” you said taking a seat on the worn leather couch. 

You reached for the tv remote making a face at Spencer to ask for permission. He nodded and you settled back turning on an old sitcom that played late at night. 

As the episode ended you both sat in silence. Again you didn’t mind but you could practically hear the cogs moving in Spencer’s brain. 

You were about to speak when he cut you off before you could even get a word out, “What did you mean by ‘why don’t you find out’.”

Gaining confidence you moved closer to where he was on the couch, slow enough for him to stop you in case he wanted to back out. 

“Well you have options pretty boy,” you said moving a leg to straddle him. Your hands instinctively going to his brown locks. You could’ve sworn you heard a little moan leave his chapped lips. Noted. 

“W-what are the options,” lust blown eyes looked up to yours. 

“One, you can put that mouth to good use on me,” you said trailing your finger over his bottom lip, “and let me cum over that pretty face.” 

His eyes shut hearing your words and you weren’t having it, “Nuh uh eyes on me honey,” instantly they were back on yours. 

“Or number two. I can suck you off and let you cum down my throat, but,” you paused making sure to roll your hips on his growing length, “ you have to give me a nice big smooch after.” 

The hands on your hips pulled you closer as he bucked his hips into you as you finished the sentence. It was clear which option was preferred. 

You moved to slide down in between his legs. You let your hands trail down his clothed thighs, causing him to jump. 

“Tsk such a needy boy,” you said mockingly, “Am I not going fast enough baby?”

“Please Y/n,” he all but whimpered. It was like music to your ears. 

Your hands went to his belt, looking up in his eyes for a final sign of permission. Once he nodded you quickly undid it and he lifted his hips to help get his pants down. You palmed him over his boxers, feeling the wet patch where he was already leaking pre cum. 

“Is this all for me Spence? Does the thought of my lips around you make you this hard,” you said taking him out of the striped confines. 

“Oh god please just,” he cut himself off. You could see his hands curling fists besides his legs. 

“Please what baby? I can’t give you anything unless you ask.” Your hands continued their task of leisurely stroking his length. 

“Fuck please put your mouth on me,” he rushed out, hips bucking to prove his point. 

The answer was good enough for you so you wasted no time in leaning forward and taking him in your mouth. Both of you let out content sighs as you tried to take him further. 

You looked up to see him with his head leaned back, eyes scrunched closes in pleasure. 

You pulled off with a pop, letting your hand work him over. “Better keep those pretty eyes on me before I decide you can’t finish.”

He looked down with a flash of worry, that was quickly replaced by a loud moan as you spit down on his cock before taking him in your mouth again. 

For a germaphobe, Spencer loved how nasty it was. He was thanking god or whatever higher being there was for giving him his eidetic memory because the sight below him was something he’d never wanna forget. 

Your eyes were teary and you had spit dribbling down your chin but he wanted nothing more than to give you more than just a kiss after you finished. Or well after he finishes. 

You could tell he was close by the way he was throbbing on your tongue. Again taking him out of your mouth you used both hands to jerk him off. 

“You’re doing such a good job baby. So good for me. You wanna cum in my mouth pretty boy?”

“God Y/n I’m so close please please please,” he whimpered out. 

“Cum for me baby, be my good boy Spence,”  you said before taking him down your throat. He was big, not girthy but long and it was a struggle but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to take him all. 

Hollowing your cheeks you bobbed your head quickly, egging on his release further. His hands finally found a place in the back of your head. Pushing you down further as he came. 

“F-fuck Y/n I’m gonna”

His moans and whines were a symphony of sounds you’d have on repeat in your head forever. 

You swallowed the salty release but before you could even wipe your lips you were being pulled up by Spencer placing his lips on yours. You moaned into the kiss, his hands gripped the sides of your face not wanting to let you go. 

The need for air made you both pull back. You looked at one another, chests heaving and looking like you ran a marathon. 

Then a sad look came across his face. 

“Spencer what’s wrong?” 

“You didn’t get any pleasure,” he said looking like a hurt puppy. Oh your sweet boy. 

“It’s ok baby, I can take care of myself,” you tried to shrug off.

He was quick to push you back on the couch, taking the spot you were previously in. His warm lips trailing down your exposed thighs. 

“I wanna do it, but only if you kiss me after.”