#i spent so much time experimenting with it

[callsigns-haze]

His Shadow: Chp 4

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

The morning sun filtered softly through the sheer curtains of YN’s mother’s modest living room. The pale light danced across the room, casting gentle patterns on the worn wooden floors and faded furniture. YN had spent the night on her mother’s small, but comfortable sofa, using a makeshift nest of blankets and pillows. She stirred slowly, the quiet stillness of the house a sharp contrast to the bustling atmosphere of the pleasure house.

Yawning and stretching, YN glanced around, her mind still wrapped in the haze of sleep. The night had been restful, but she couldn’t shake the nagging worry about Knox. Her mother had graciously offered to care for him while YN worked, but she had been missing him terribly. It was time to reunite with her son.

She carefully gathered her things, folding the blanket she had used and tidying up the small space as best as she could. Her mother, an woman with a warm, kind demeanour, was still asleep in her own bedroom. YN wanted to make sure everything was ready before she woke her.

With a soft, cautious step, YN made her way to the small nursery that had been set up in a corner of her mother’s apartment. The room was modest but cozy, decorated with pastel-coloured curtains and a few framed pictures of animals. In the crib at the centre of the room lay Knox, his tiny form barely visible beneath the soft, knitted blanket.

YN’s heart swelled as she approached the crib, her eyes softening at the sight of her sleeping son. Knox’s small chest rose and fell with each gentle breath, his little fingers curled into tiny fists. She reached down, carefully placing a hand on his back to wake him softly.

“Good morning, my little one,” YN murmured, her voice tender and loving.

Knox stirred, his eyelids fluttering open to reveal the curious, innocent gaze of a three-week-old baby. YN carefully lifted him from the crib, cradling him gently in her arms. His warmth and weight were a soothing comfort against her chest.

“Let’s get you ready to go home,” YN whispered, her voice full of affection. She carefully adjusted Knox’s blanket, making sure he was secure and comfortable.

Her mother had prepared a small bag with some essentials for Knox—diapers, a few changes of clothes, and a soft toy that YN had brought from home. YN picked up the bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she prepared to leave.

She made her way to the small kitchen, where she could hear the faint sounds of her mother beginning to stir. YN set the bag down on the counter and walked back to the nursery to say a quiet goodbye to her mother.

Her mother emerged, rubbing her eyes and offering a sleepy smile. “Good morning, dear. Are you heading out already?”

“Yes, just about,” YN said, her voice gentle. “Thank you so much for taking care of Knox. I really appreciate it.”

Her mother came over, reaching out to gently pat Knox’s head. “He’s a lovely little boy. I’ve enjoyed having him. Just be sure to get some rest when you can.”

YN nodded, her smile filled with gratitude. “I will. I just need to get him home and settled.”

As YN and her mother exchanged a final hug, YN carefully picked up Knox and adjusted him in her arms. With one last look around the apartment, she stepped out into the fresh morning air.

The city was slowly coming to life as she made her way back to her own apartment. The streets were quieter than usual, and the early morning light bathed everything in a soft, golden hue. YN’s heart ached with both joy and weariness as she walked, the familiar weight of Knox in her arms a constant reminder of the responsibilities and love she carried.

She reached her apartment building, a modest structure with a worn exterior that belied the cozy interior. She carefully navigated the stairs, her mind filled with thoughts of getting Knox settled and ready for the day ahead.

Entering her apartment, YN carefully placed Knox in the small crib she had set up in the corner of the living room. The space was small but welcoming, filled with the warmth of home and the love of a mother’s touch. She adjusted the blanket around him and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Welcome home, Knox,” she whispered, her voice full of love and relief. “We’ve got a lot to do today, but we’ll do it together.”

---

Azriel stood by the large, arched window of Rhysand’s office, the glass cool against his fingertips as he looked out over the sprawling gardens of the River House. The room was bathed in the warm, golden light of the afternoon sun, casting a soft glow over the luxurious furnishings and elegant décor. Yet, despite the opulence of his surroundings, Azriel's thoughts were distant, his attention focused on the scene unfolding outside.

Nyx, Rhysand’s nine-year-old son, and Agnar, Cassian’s seven-year-old son, were out on the lawn, their laughter carrying through the open window. The two boys were engaged in a spirited game of tag, their shouts and giggles filling the air with a sense of carefree joy. The sun illuminated their faces, highlighting the innocence and exuberance of childhood.

Azriel watched them with a mixture of fondness and melancholy. He saw the way Nyx’s dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, a mirror of his father’s, and Agnar’s quick, agile movements, so reminiscent of Cassian’s youthful energy. The sight of them playing together, their faces flushed with happiness, tugged at something deep within him.

A shadow of sadness crossed Azriel’s features as he observed the scene. The joy and vitality of his nephews were a stark contrast to the burden he carried. The secrecy surrounding his relationship with YN and their son, Knox, weighed heavily on him. Despite the love he felt for them, he was forced to keep their existence hidden, his role as a father concealed from those closest to him.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the sight of the boys, his thoughts drifting to the life he could have had if circumstances were different. He imagined what it would be like if he could openly share his joy and pride in Knox, if he could let his family see the life he had built with YN. The pain of not being able to do so was a constant ache, a reminder of the sacrifices he had made to protect those he loved.

Rhysand’s voice broke through his thoughts, rich and warm with a touch of amusement. “You seem lost in thought, Az.”

Azriel turned away from the window, his expression carefully neutral as he faced Rhysand. “Just watching the boys. They’re growing up so fast.”

Rhysand smiled, his eyes following Azriel’s gaze to where Nyx and Agnar continued their game. “They are. It’s hard to believe how quickly time passes.”

Azriel nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, it is.”

Rhysand’s tone grew more contemplative. “Sometimes I think about how different things might be if circumstances were different. But I suppose we make the best of what we have.”

Azriel’s eyes flickered with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. He knew Rhysand’s words were meant to offer comfort, but they only served to underscore the gap between his public life and his private heartache.

“Indeed,” Azriel said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that he tried to mask. “We make do with what we have.”

Rhysand’s gaze remained thoughtful, and he seemed to sense the deeper emotions behind Azriel’s words. “If there’s ever anything you need to talk about, you know you can always come to me.”

Azriel nodded, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “Thank you, Rhys. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Rhysand turned his attention to some documents on his desk, Azriel returned to the window, his thoughts returning to the life he had to keep hidden. The sight of Nyx and Agnar playing was a bittersweet reminder of what he yearned for—an open, unburdened life with YN and Knox.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the polished floors of the River House as Azriel excused himself from the inner circle's meeting with barely a moment to spare. Rhysand, Cassian, and the others were deep in discussion about upcoming strategies and potential threats, but Azriel’s mind was elsewhere, focused on the fleeting moments he could spend with YN and Knox.

“Sorry to cut out early,” Azriel said quickly, his voice tinged with a mix of urgency and apology. “I’ve got something I need to take care of.”

Rhysand looked up, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Everything alright, Az?”

Azriel forced a smile, nodding. “Yes, just personal matters. I’ll catch up with you all soon.”

Before anyone could press further, Azriel was already striding towards the exit. His steps were brisk, the weight of his desire to return home fueling his haste. He made his way through the grand hallways and down the stairs, his thoughts solely occupied with the comforting vision of YN and Knox awaiting him.

The journey back to his apartment felt interminable, but finally, he landed silently on the balcony. He slipped into his home with practiced quiet, his senses attuned to the familiar sounds of his sanctuary. The apartment was calm, the air carrying a soft, serene quality that immediately soothed his frazzled nerves.

Azriel moved through the living room, his heart fluttering with anticipation and love. As he rounded the corner, he was met with a sight that warmed him to his core.

YN was asleep on the couch, her form curled up in a cozy nest of blankets. Her hair was splayed across the cushions, a serene expression on her face. Knox, their precious son, lay nestled on her chest, his tiny body rising and falling with each gentle breath. He was awake now, his small eyes blinking with curiosity as he looked up at his mother.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. The image of YN, exhausted but peaceful, with Knox cradled against her, was a poignant reminder of the love and dedication they shared. He approached them quietly, careful not to disturb YN's slumber.

Kneeling beside the couch, Azriel reached out, his fingertips brushing gently against Knox’s soft cheek. The baby cooed, a small, delicate sound that filled Azriel’s heart with overwhelming tenderness.

“Hey, little one,” Azriel murmured softly, his voice a low whisper. “Look who’s come to see you.”

He carefully lifted Knox from YN’s chest, his movements gentle and practiced. The baby’s head rested against his shoulder as he held him close, a smile spreading across Azriel’s face. Knox’s tiny fingers grasped at the fabric of Azriel’s shirt, his eyes bright and curious as he cooed back.

Azriel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Knox’s forehead. “You’ve been such a good boy today, haven’t you?”

Knox gurgled in response, his eyes widening as he looked up at his father. Azriel’s heart swelled with affection as he held his son, feeling the warmth and weight of him in his arms. The bond between them was palpable, a silent conversation filled with love and promise.

Azriel glanced over at YN, still peacefully asleep. He carefully adjusted Knox, making sure the baby was comfortable in his arms before leaning down to gently brush a strand of hair away from YN’s face.

He settled onto the couch beside YN, keeping Knox cradled close. He watched as YN stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She blinked sleepily, her gaze settling on Azriel and their son.

“Azriel?” YN’s voice was soft, her tone a mix of surprise and sleepiness. “You’re home early.”

Azriel smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. “I couldn’t wait to see you both. How was your day?”

YN stretched gently, her eyes softening as she looked at Knox in Azriel’s arms. “It was good. He’s been a little angel. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze fixed lovingly on Knox. “I’m glad too. He’s grown so much in just a few weeks.”

YN reached out, her hand brushing tenderly against Knox’s cheek. “He has. And he’s so lucky to have you.”

Azriel’s smile grew, his heart swelling with love for his family. “And I’m lucky to have you both.”

As he looked down at his son, Azriel felt an overwhelming sense of pride and love. Knox’s small, cherubic face was a perfect blend of both parents, but it was the subtle, distinctive features that made Azriel’s heart swell with emotion. The baby’s tiny limbs and soft, downy hair were endearing, but it was Knox’s nascent wings that truly captured Azriel’s attention.

Even at just two weeks old, Knox had already begun to display the faintest hints of his Illyrian heritage. Though the wings were tiny and not yet fully developed, their presence was unmistakable. They were delicate and translucent, their edges a soft, silvery shimmer that caught the light. They rested against Knox’s back, their appearance a blend of the ethereal and the divine.

Azriel’s fingers traced the edge of one of Knox’s wings with a gentle touch, careful not to disturb his sleeping son. The delicate membranes were warm and soft beneath his fingertips, and the faint luminescence was a reminder of the incredible heritage Knox was inheriting.

“Look at these wings, little one,” Azriel whispered, his voice filled with a tender awe. “Just like mine. You’re growing up so fast, even though you’re still so tiny.”

Knox stirred slightly, his tiny wings fluttering ever so gently in response to his father’s touch. Azriel’s smile widened, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. The sight of Knox’s miniature wings, so full of potential and promise, made his heart ache with a bittersweet joy.

He shifted slightly, pulling Knox closer to him, his own wings instinctively curling around them in a protective embrace. The warmth of his wings enveloped Knox, creating a cocoon of safety and love. The sensation of his son's small body nestled against him, combined with the soft, almost imperceptible flutter of Knox’s wings, was an exquisite reminder of the bond they shared.

Azriel leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Knox’s forehead. “I know you’re just beginning to learn about your wings, but I promise you, they will grow strong. They will carry you through the skies just like mine.”

He continued to speak softly, his words filled with the kind of love that only a parent could feel. “When you’re older, you’ll learn to soar through the skies. But for now, just enjoy being small and safe in your mother’s arms and mine.”

The quiet moments stretched on, and Azriel found solace in the simple act of bonding with his son. The world outside seemed distant and irrelevant compared to the peace he found in these fleeting moments. The responsibilities and secrets that burdened him felt lighter, if only for a while.

As Knox’s tiny hand reached up, his small fingers grasping at the fabric of Azriel’s shirt, Azriel felt a pang of deep affection. The tiny, innocent gesture was a powerful reminder of the love he had for this little being, a love that transcended the complications of their lives.

The peaceful cocoon of the living room was gently disturbed as YN stirred from her slumber on the couch. She stretched languidly, her muscles protesting slightly as she woke from a deep, restful sleep. She blinked sleepily, her gaze falling on Azriel, who was now tenderly bottle-feeding Knox. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated their quiet moment together, casting a warm light across the room.

YN smiled softly at the sight. Azriel’s presence, so gentle and attentive with their son, was a heart-warming sight. She reluctantly pushed herself up from the couch, her body a bit stiff from the hours spent resting in one position. The couch had become a makeshift bed over the past few weeks, but the comfort of being with her family made it all worth it.

Yawning, YN moved to the small, neatly arranged bedroom where her work attire awaited her. She quickly began the process of getting ready for her shift at the pleasure house, her mind already focusing on the tasks ahead.

She started with her undergarments, slipping into a comfortable, supportive bra and a pair of seamless panties. Next, she chose a simple yet elegant outfit for the evening—a fitted, deep navy dress that complemented her figure and allowed ease of movement. The fabric was soft and smooth, with a subtle sheen that caught the light just right. She paired it with a black satin belt that cinched at her waist, adding a touch of refinement to her look.

As she dressed, YN kept an ear out for Knox’s soft coos and Azriel’s soothing murmurs. The quiet, intimate moments they shared were precious, and she cherished the time they had together, even in the midst of their busy lives.

She pulled on a pair of black, sheer stockings, the fabric gliding up her legs smoothly. Her heeled, ankle-length boots completed the look, their dark hue and sleek design adding a touch of sophistication. She glanced at herself in the mirror, adjusting her outfit and making sure everything was in place.

While YN worked on her makeup, she chose a subtle look for the evening. She applied a light foundation to even out her complexion, followed by a touch of blush to give her cheeks a healthy glow. She carefully applied a coat of mascara to her lashes and a muted shade of lipstick that accentuated her natural beauty without being too bold. The final touch was a delicate, sparkling pendant necklace that rested softly against her collarbone.

As she finished up, YN glanced back towards the living room, her heart warming at the sight of Azriel and Knox. Azriel was gently burping Knox, his movements slow and deliberate, a tender expression on his face. Knox seemed content, his tiny hands gripping the edge of the bottle as he took his time feeding.

“Everything going smoothly?” YN asked, her voice soft but filled with a hint of playful curiosity.

Azriel looked up, his eyes meeting hers with a gentle smile. “He’s doing well. We’re just finishing up here.”

YN moved back into the living room, her steps light and purposeful. She bent down to give Knox a soft kiss on his tiny forehead, her fingers brushing gently against his downy hair.

“Almost time for you to go back to sleep, little one,” YN murmured, her voice full of affection. “I’ll be heading out soon.”

Azriel glanced at the clock, noting the time. “I’ll make sure he’s settled before you leave. You go ahead and finish up.”

YN nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the quiet domesticity of the scene before her. She knew that every moment spent with Knox and Azriel was a precious gift, and she cherished these early, serene hours before her work began.

With a final check of her appearance, YN grabbed her small, elegant handbag and slung it over her shoulder. She moved to the door, pausing to take one last look at Azriel and Knox.

“Be good for Daddy,” YN said softly to Knox, her gaze lingering on the tiny, peaceful face of her son.

Azriel looked up, a touch of mischief in his eyes. “We’ll be just fine. You go on and take care of things. We’ll be here when you get back.”

YN gave him a warm smile, her heart full of love and gratitude. “Thanks, Az. I’ll see you both later.”

With one last affectionate glance, YN left the apartment, the door clicking softly behind her. As she walked to her car, she felt a sense of both anticipation and resolve. Her work awaited her, but the love she had for her family was always close to her heart, a guiding light through the busy days and nights.

--

YN stepped into the dimly lit interior of the pleasure house, the familiar blend of perfume and alcohol greeting her senses. Tonight felt like any other—until she noticed two familiar figures occupying the corner booth. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Rhysand and Cassian, their presence unexpected and sending a ripple of anxiety through her.

What are they doing here again? YN thought, trying to keep her composure as she walked toward them. She had just served them the night before; seeing them again so soon unsettled her.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” she greeted, her voice warm but professional as she approached their table. “Back again so soon? What can I get for you tonight?”

Rhysand looked up from his conversation with Cassian, his violet eyes sparkling with the usual charm. “Couldn’t stay away,” he replied smoothly. “We’re here to discuss Azriel’s next mission. This seemed like the perfect place to do so.”

The mention of Azriel’s mission made YN’s heart sink. She forced herself to maintain a neutral expression, though her mind was racing. Another mission? So soon after Knox’s birth? The thought of Azriel heading into danger again so soon filled her with dread.

Feigning casual interest, she asked, “Where is Azriel tonight? I thought he might be with you.”

Rhysand shook his head. “He’s probably handling some last-minute preparations. You know how he is—always ahead of the game.”

Cassian grinned. “Or brooding somewhere, as usual.”

YN managed a light laugh, but the weight in her chest only grew heavier. She knew where Azriel had been before she left for work, but hearing them discuss his next mission as if it were routine was unsettling. She needed to know more, to understand what lay ahead for him.

“I’ll get your yesterdays drinks,” YN said, slipping into her role. “Anything else I can bring you?”

Before she could leave, Cassian’s voice stopped her. “Actually, YN, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

She turned back, her heart beating a little faster. “Yes?”

Cassian’s expression softened, genuine curiosity in his eyes. “Last night, you mentioned you have a baby. How are they doing? And your boyfriend? It must be a lot to juggle.”

YN felt a surge of panic but kept her smile intact. She had mentioned her baby the previous night to maintain the cover story. Now, under Cassian’s kind gaze, she had to continue the lie.

“They’re both doing well,” she replied smoothly, though her heart ached. “My boyfriend’s very supportive. It’s been challenging, but we’re managing.”

Cassian nodded, his smile reassuring. “That’s good to hear. You deserve the best.”

Rhysand, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “It’s not easy, especially with your job. But you’re handling it well.”

YN’s stomach twisted. They had no idea how close they were to the truth—or how much she wished she could tell them everything. But she couldn’t risk exposing her and Azriel’s secret, especially with his upcoming mission looming over them. She needed to know more, even if it meant asking directly.

“So, this mission you’re planning for Azriel,” YN began, keeping her tone casual. “Is it dangerous?”

Rhysand’s expression became guarded, though his tone remained light. “Nothing he hasn’t handled before. Just another piece of the puzzle we’re putting together.”

Cassian added, sensing her concern, “We can’t share details, but Azriel’s the best at what he does. We trust him completely.”

YN nodded, though her worry deepened. She had seen firsthand the toll these missions took on Azriel—the nights he came home battered and weary, the weight of secrets he carried. She couldn’t help but feel protective, knowing what was at stake for him and their family.

She pressed further, hoping for more information. “Do you know where he is now? I haven’t seen him around.”

Rhysand shook his head. “No, he didn’t say where he was heading tonight. But he’ll turn up.”

Cassian grinned. “Probably avoiding us because he knows we’re about to pile work on him.”

YN forced another smile, though her heart was heavy. She knew Azriel had reasons for keeping her in the dark, but that didn’t make it easier. The thought of him out there, facing unknown dangers while she pretended everything was fine, filled her with helplessness.

“I’m sure he’s just busy,” YN said, maintaining her calm facade. “Let me get those drinks.”

She moved away, her mind racing. As she prepared their drinks, the reality of their situation weighed heavily on her. Azriel was preparing for another mission, one that could take him away from her and Knox. And all she could do was wait, serving drinks and keeping up appearances while the man she loved faced danger.

When she returned with the drinks, she plastered on her best smile. Rhysand and Cassian accepted them, quickly resuming their discussion. YN lingered, hoping to catch more information, but the conversation shifted away from Azriel’s mission.

YN pushed open the door to the small, dimly lit apartment, her heart heavy with a mixture of fear and sorrow. As she stepped inside, the familiar scent of home—of Azriel—washed over her, but it brought no comfort this time. Instead, it felt like a cruel reminder of what she was about to lose.

The door closed behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the silence of the apartment. Knox’s soft coos came from the bassinet by the window, but YN barely heard them, her mind too clouded by the news she had just overheard. She had known this day would come—that Azriel would be called away on another mission—but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

As she walked further into the apartment, her steps faltered, the weight of her emotions finally crashing over her. She stopped in the middle of the small living room, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. A choked sob escaped her lips, and before she could hold it back, she was crying—deep, wrenching sobs that shook her whole body.

She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle the sound, but the tears kept coming, flowing freely down her cheeks. The realization that Azriel would be leaving soon—leaving her and Knox to face whatever dangers awaited him—was too much to bear. The thought of him not coming back, of Knox growing up without knowing his father, of her losing the man she loved, was a fear she couldn’t shake.

YN sank onto the couch, her legs giving out beneath her as the grief consumed her. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. She had always known that Azriel’s work was dangerous—that every mission could be his last—but the reality of it had never hit her as hard as it did now. Knox had changed everything. He had brought a new kind of love into her life, but with that love came a new kind of fear—one that gnawed at her every time Azriel left.

The sound of a door opening in the bedroom startled her, and she quickly tried to compose herself, wiping away the tears with trembling hands. Azriel had been in their room, likely catching up on some much-needed rest after his long day. He had no idea she knew about the mission yet; she hadn’t had the chance to tell him.

YN hurriedly stood up, trying to smooth her dishevelled appearance as she heard Azriel’s footsteps approaching. She forced a smile, hoping to mask her distress, but she knew her red, puffy eyes would give her away.

Azriel stepped into the room, his sharp hazel eyes softening when they landed on her. “YN,” he said gently, concern immediately colouring his tone as he noticed her tear-streaked face. “What’s wrong?”

YN opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She didn’t know how to tell him—didn’t know how to voice the fear and sadness that were choking her. Instead, she just shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as she looked at him, her gaze pleading.

Azriel was at her side in an instant, his strong arms wrapping around her, pulling her close. “Shh,” he whispered, holding her as if she were something fragile and precious. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay. YN buried her face in his chest, her hands clutching at his shirt as she cried. Azriel held her tighter, one hand stroking her hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on her back, his voice a soft murmur in her ear.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, his voice gentle but firm. “Please, YN. What’s happened?”

YN pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. “I heard about your mission,” she finally whispered, her voice trembling. “I know you’re leaving soon.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, his brow furrowing in concern. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away her tears. “It’s just a mission,” he said softly, though there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that told her he knew it wasn’t just any mission.

YN shook her head, fresh tears spilling over. “But what if you don’t come back, Azriel? What if this is the one that takes you away from us? From Knox?” Her voice broke on their son’s name, the fear and anguish she had been holding back pouring out of her.

Azriel’s gaze softened even more, and he pulled her close again, his lips pressing against her temple. “I will come back,” he promised, his voice steady and sure. “I swear to you, YN. I will come back to you and Knox.”

But even as he said the words, YN couldn’t shake the fear that gripped her heart. She clung to him, her tears soaking into his shirt as she prayed that he was right—that this wouldn’t be the mission that tore their family apart.

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[hederasgarden]

Under the Influence - Part 1

Summary: While investigating a suspicious pharmaceutical company, you and Clark find yourselves exposed to a drug that forces you to grapple with its unforeseen consequences. Pairing: Clark Kent x F!Reader  Word Count: 3.9K Warning: 18+ only, explicit sexual content. Dubious consent (reader and Clark are exposed to sex pollen), unprotected PIV, size kink, biting, angst and other untagged themes.  A/N: Thank you @ryebecca @clairewritesandrambles and @a-reader-and-a-writer for holding my hand through this and Becca for beta’ing!

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Masterlist ♡ Henry Cavill Characters Masterlist

It’s late, and the glittering skyline of Metropolis stretches out beyond the windows of the Daily Planet. The usual hum of activity in the bullpen is absent tonight – it’s just you, Clark, and an intimidating stack of boxes that seem to multiply with every passing minute. You may have indulged in a daydream or two about Clark just like this, but none of them ever involved so much paperwork.

You stifle a yawn, reaching for your coffee, only to nearly choke when you realize it’s gone cold. Grimacing, you set the offending mug aside and try to wash away the stale taste with water. The sound catches Clark’s attention and pulls him from his work. He offers you a wiry smile that you return, struck once again by just how handsome he looks. He makes it all too easy to have a crush on him, even though you know it wouldn’t go anywhere.

“I’ll put on a fresh pot,” he offers, stretching as he stands. 

Despite shedding his suit jacket earlier, and the way his tie is slightly askew, he still manages to look annoyingly chipper despite the late hour. You lean back to pass him your mug, your stiff muscles protesting. They ache from hours of sitting and sorting. 

“Back in a jiffy,” he promises, disappearing down the hall. 

By now, the two of you have been hunched over documents for nearly ten hours. Half of them are so technical they might as well be gibberish, but you’ve found a few leads in the financial papers. Unfortunately, your current stack of documents is so heavily redacted that they’re practically useless. You groan in frustration, resting your forehead on your arms until Clark returns, bringing the rich, intoxicating aroma of freshly brewed coffee with him. 

You accept the mug with a smile but quickly set it on the table when the warmth that seeps through the ceramic nearly burns your fingers. Not for the first time, you wonder how Clark managed to get the ancient coffee machine to percolate so quickly. For everyone else, it typically spewed out lukewarm sludge.

“Bet you're regretting volunteering for this assignment now,” Clark says. 

“Not for a moment,” you reply. “You’re still sharing that byline with me, right?” You question, squinting up at him.

“I always keep my promises,” he says with such earnestness that you’re reminded once again why Perry liked to call him a Boy Scout.

“I’ll hold you to it because this story’s turned into a beast.”

Clark sighs, resting his hands on his hips as he surveys the cluttered table strewn with file boxes and paper.  “It really has,” he agrees. 

When Perry called for a volunteer from the pool of junior editors to help with an expose on Salvation Pharmaceuticals, you jumped at the opportunity and not just because Clark was the writer assigned to the story. Most of your days were spent copyediting stories and arguing about AP style. You were just itching for some hands-on research experience, although neither of you expected the thread Clark pulled to unravel so quickly or so thoroughly. 

What started as an investigation into government kickbacks and dubious congressional dealings rapidly evolved into something far more unsettling. Salvation Pharmaceuticals’ R&D department was embroiled in deeply questionable research, from a gas capable of erasing memories to a potent drug they called a truth serum. All of their drugs had horrible side effects, particularly the latter which worked by lowering inhibitions but also triggered something they called sexual psychosis.

Clark’s freedom of information request resulted in your current predicament. Based on the sheer number of boxes they sent it was clear the company hoped to overwhelm you with an avalanche of data and make it difficult to find what you needed. Unfortunately for them, Clark Kent was one of the most determined reporters you’d ever met. If anyone was going to get to the bottom of the story it was him. 

“Well…once more unto the breach,” you quote, holding up a fresh box of files.

As you lift the lid, Clark offers you a small smile, his cheeks dimpling. For a moment, you’re too distracted by him to notice the cloud of yellow dust rising from the box. It quickly expands, swirling into a thick mist that engulfs you both. Immediately, your lungs begin to burn, and you gasp for air. You push your chair back and struggle to stand as your vision blurs. 

A strong arm around your middle hauls you back, dragging your feet on the carpet. Clark pulls you to the edge of the room, and you lean into him, desperately trying to clear your lungs. Behind you, he grunts, his fingers twitching and spasming against your hip. It takes several moments for the air to clear, but when it does, you watch in horror as the yellow dust seems to melt into your skin.

“What was that?” You ask, voice hoarse.

Clark is silent and looks grim when you turn to face him. “I think that was the truth serum. The reports described it as yellow dust.”

You stare at him, bewildered. “Why would the dust be in there?”

“I don’t know. But I can guess.”

You rub your chest and take a hesitant step back. “I don’t feel any different. Do you?”

“No.” He presses his lips together, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. “Do you feel anything?”

You exhale slowly, taking stock of your body. “Maybe?” Your response is more of a question than a definitive answer. You feel oddly warm, but it could just be the adrenaline from the situation. 

“You’re sweating,” he observes, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. The warmth of his touch makes you shudder and you can’t help but notice how good he smells. “Your body temperature is elevated.”

“Huh?” You look up at him, momentarily lost in his gaze. “You’re hot, too,” you blurt out, mortified when the words leave your mouth.

“I feel fine,” Clark replies, either misunderstanding what you meant or choosing not to acknowledge the slip.

You step away from him, feeling your body buzz with embarrassment. Sweat dots your brow, and you’re halfway out of your thin cardigan before you even realize it. As you pace the room, you realize Clark might be right — the powder could be affecting you. You try to shake off the disorienting feeling that lingers, while Clark tracks your progress with sharp blue eyes.

“Should we call someone? Isn’t there a protocol for dealing with mysterious powders?” It’s difficult to think straight when your body feels like a furnace. “Clark?” You question.

His nostrils flare but otherwise, he doesn’t respond until you say his name again. “Yeah. There’s uh, an anthrax protocol. Perry’s got it in his office.”

Time seems to progress in strange lurches and lulls as you wait for Clark to return. You’re not sure how long he’s gone, each minute dragging as the heat within intensifies and your thoughts become increasingly muddled. There’s a growing pressure in your stomach too, something that radiates down. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s persistently irritating — a prickling feeling that needs to be soothed.

“I made the call,” Clark announces, reappearing. “They said it’ll be 30 minutes until they get here with everything they need. We just have to sit tight.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. If it really was the truth serum, and you’re starting to believe Clark might be right, there’s no telling what might come out of your mouth. Even now, as you pace back and forth, you feel a pressure under your tongue, as though the words are lurking just beneath the surface, eager to spring out. The last thing you want to do is reveal your stupid little crush on him.

“God, it’s hot,” you muttered, staring at the window. You press your palms to the glass. It’s cool to the touch and you lay your forehead against it, almost moaning in relief. You wish you could strip off your dress and melt into the floor. 

“Here.” Clark’s voice is closer than you expect.

You flinch at the feel of his hand on your lower back but let him turn you around to face him. He presses a glass of cool water to your lips, and you grasp his thick wrist as he urges you to drink it all, your gaze never leaving his. The moment you finish your mouth feels dry and your throat itches. 

“You have the bluest eyes,” you whisper. “You shouldn’t hide them behind your glasses.” You reach for them, but Clark stops you with a gentle hand on yours. Embarrassment rushes under your skin, and you draw back. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s happening.”

“It’s the drug.”

“Why aren’t you affected?” You question. “You seem fine.”

“My biology is different from yours,” he says almost absently only to freeze a second later. He presses his lips together and clenches his jaw. For the first time since you met him, Clark looks genuinely unsettled. “The reports said it affected women quicker,” he adds before stepping back.

Your hand falls limply to your side as you watch him. Clark tugs at his already loosened tie, stretching his neck with an audible crack. A dark red flush creeps up his cheeks, making the skin around his eyes glow faintly. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a harsh breath through his nose.

“Maybe I should wait in the other room,” he grits out.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Clark barely takes a step towards the door before a sharp, unexpected wave of searing pain rips through your stomach, sending you crashing to your knees. The impact jolts your entire body, but that discomfort is overshadowed by a deep gnawing ache between your legs. You pitch forward onto all fours, struggling as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

“Oh,” you whimper, terrified as your mind recalls the adverse event report for the truth serum with perfect clarity. 

Following an increase in basal body temperature, patients exposed to the drug exhibit symptoms of full-blown sexual psychosis. This condition necessitates achieving climax to alleviate symptoms. Patients who are unable to reach climax experience a marked increase in heart rate and blood pressure, which in some cases progresses to cardiac arrest.

Every muscle in your body tenses, as a fierce, relentless pressure builds. Then, like the tide, it recedes, leaving you curled into a ball on the floor. Through half-closed eyes, you meet Clark’s gaze. He kneels in front of you and his expression mirrors your anguish.

“Clark….”

“I know,” he says quietly. His hands hover at your shoulder for a moment before he finally helps turn you on your back.

None of this feels real; it’s like a twisted wish gone wrong.

“Help me, please,” you cry, the words escaping in broken sobs. You’re too hysterical to feel ashamed about what you’re asking him to do. Details from the report keep replaying in your mind, fueling your terror. You don’t want to die.

Clark looms over you, a sheen of sweat on his brow. You stare up at him, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the pain in your core pulses and builds. The ache in the body is all-consuming, overriding everything else. Worse is the feeling of emptiness that you know he could fill. 

“Please.” Your voice fizzles out as a strong wave of pain slams into you. It leaves you reeling and disoriented. You claw at his arms, fingernails digging into his skin. 

“I’m going to help you.” He says, his gaze lingering on you as he runs his tongue along his bottom lip. “If-if you want me to,” he adds, and a hysterical laugh bubbles up inside you. Of course you do, you’ve dreamed of him since the day you met him in the breakroom. You just never imagined this. 

When another cramp leaves you panting and desperate you grit out a pained, “Yes.”

His large hand encircles your calf, gently but firmly pulling your legs apart so he can kneel between them. The cool air makes you groan and you try to curl in on yourself again, but Clark pins you to the floor easily. With shaky hands, he drags your dress up to expose your simple black underwear. The sight seems to transfix him and you watch his chest rise and fall with quick, shallow breaths that mimic your own. 

“I have to ah, I have to…” He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply. When he shakes his head his glasses fall down his nose. “I need to get you ready.”

“I don’t care,” you sob. “Fuck me, please.”

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the part that's still you, is horrified by your words. You’ve never spoken to anyone like that, let alone a colleague or the man you have a crush on. But you know with a terrifying certainty that if he doesn’t fuck you, you’ll both die. 

“It’s okay,” he soothes, the calm tenor of his voice betrayed by the way his hand trembles against your thigh. He tears off your underwear with an ease that would give you pause if you were in your right mind.

Shame is a thing of the past as you spread your legs even further, allowing his hungry gaze to drink its fill. He parts your folds and draws two fingers through the wetness gathered there, starting with light, teasing strokes that quickly build to more. When his thumb finds your bundle of nerves, he rubs slow, soothing circles until the pain in your stomach eases a fraction. 

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, sounding breathless. “Doing so good for me, honey.”

You moan his name and he shifts closer, bent forward to watch himself work. Soon one kind of pressure recedes and another begins. You gasp, throwing your head back as Clark continues his slow assault, building in its intensity. When your legs thrash his other hand settles on your hip, holding you still as he works a thick finger inside. Your cunt clenches in response to the intrusion. Above you, he groans and his thumb moves faster. 

“More, oh god I need more,” you beg, keening when Clark pushes a second finger inside. 

The stretch of them both burns but that’s eclipsed by the pleasure you feel. You rock forward, trying to take more of him but he doesn’t let you, controlling the pace. You can hear yourself babbling, nonsensical words streaming from your mouth as he draws you closer and closer to your orgasm until, all at once, it overwhelms you completely. Your orgasm is almost painful and your hands curl into fists, your body contorting in response. The room blurs around you, and every fiber of your being is consumed by the relief you feel. 

When it passes you’re left trembling on the floor, avoiding Clark’s gaze. He hovers over you, his arousal hard to miss with the way it tents the front of his gray slacks.

“Clark.” You touch his chest, inhaling when his dark blue eyes snap up to meet yours. “Do you…” 

You can’t even force yourself to say it now that you’re back in your right mind. Clark shakes his head, withdrawing his fingers. You wince, and he looks pained. 

“We should —” he starts, but whatever he is about to say is abruptly cut off as he grunts and hunches forward, a visible shudder running through him. 

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his face. When your fingers brush over the curve of his cheek he moans and surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that steals your breath. He forces his tongue inside and the heat of him is almost unbearable. You push at his shoulder, but he doesn’t relent. His hands travel up and down your sides and you feel that familiar pressure return to your core. It builds slowly, like the spark of an ember that will soon flare into a blazing fire. 

You shift under Clark, drawing your legs up as he swallows down your needy whine. By the time he pulls away, you’re feeling dizzy and gasping for breath.

“We need to,” you begin, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembles.

“I know,” Clark replies.

He fumbles with his pants and you look up at the ceiling as he pulls himself free. It feels like a violation to look, but without your permission, you find your gaze drifting down. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of his cock, just as big and thick as the rest of him. It’s red and weeping. Your cunt aches, and you toss your head side to side, trying to dispel the pain. 

Clark plants a hand near your head while he lines himself up between your thighs. He pushes inside slowly. It hurts, god, it hurts, but you need more of him, and you need it now. Wrapping his tie around your hand, you pull hard, urging him closer. He snaps his hip forward with enough force to jar your bones, and you wail in response. For one blissful moment, everything is quiet. Your buzzing mind and aching body are finally filled in a way they’ve been craving.

“Fuck.” The curse falls from Clark’s lips and brings you back to the moment. “You feel so good. You feel…” he trails off, his words bleed into one long, low moan that has you clenching around him. 

Above you, his handsome face contorts, his lips pressed tightly together. Tension lines the muscles of his jaw and his dark brows furrow in an expression that teeters between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure skitters along your nerves as he drives into you over and over again to reach some unknown place hidden deep inside. Your second orgasm rises to the surface just as swiftly as your first and Clark is relentless as he fucks you through it. 

There isn’t even time to catch your breath before his hands encircle your hips and he leans back, drawing you with him. The backs of your thighs drag over the fabric of his slack as he moves your body to meet his thrusts. As one orgasm fades you feel another spring to life, hastened by the feel of his calloused thumb on your clit. The need inside you burns even brighter, and a litany of desperate pleas spills from your lips. 

“You feel,” he pants, “just like I imagined.”

When you gasp his name he curls his body over yours, the new angle allowing him to move even deeper. You hold onto his biceps and listen to the desperate little noises that escape his chest with each thrust. His lips find the soft skin of your throat as his fingers dig into the neckline of your dress. He pulls hard and buttons scatter, giving him access to your shoulder. Teeth scrap over tender flesh and your back arches as another orgasm blooms in your stomach.

Waves of pleasure ebb through your body and your fingers tangle in the thick hair at the nape of his neck. Clark doesn’t falter even when you fall still beneath him. Your muscles ache, and your body feels tense and exhausted, but that frenzied need that’s driven you since the dust melted into your system slakes away until you’re left feeling everything. Guilt and horror fill your body like sand, weighing you down. 

Clark groans and you realize he’s still in the throes of the drug's effects. The ceaseless rhythm of his hips has turned painful and your insides feel raw. You push at his shoulder but he doesn’t even seem to notice, hitching your leg over his waist to push himself deeper. 

He shudders, gasping, “like that, just like that.” Then his teeth sink into your neck and he finally stills. 

Tears leak from the corner of your eyes as your breath comes in short little sobs, your heart fluttering in your chest. After a few moments, Clark stiffens and you know he’s come back to himself. He shifts, slipping out of you with a quiet exhale. You can’t stifle your whimper of pain and his gaze jumps to you. For a moment you stare at each other and the silence is deafening. Then he passes a trembling hand over his lips and rocks back, moving to his feet in a fluid motion. He turns from you to tuck himself away and runs a hand through his curls. 

You sit up slowly, drawing your knees to your chest while you hold the fabric of your dress together in an attempt to give yourself some dignity. It’s almost laughable after what just happened. Clark says your name and you stare at his outstretched hand. After a moment of hesitation, you take it and he pulls you to your feet. When he drops his jacket over your shoulders you feel a swell of gratitude. You let him guide you to a chair, wincing when you sit. Everything feels raw and tender. 

He clears his throat. “The response team is downstairs.”

“Okay,” you say numbly. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry,” he whispers. 

You want to tell him it’s okay, that it’s not his fault, but the words catch in your throat. All you get out is his name. Nothing about this is okay. How could it be? 

You wait together, Clark standing half a step ahead of you while you stare at his broad shoulders, lost in thought. He’s the one to greet the men and women in hazmat suits. You don’t catch everything he says, but his eyes drift back to you as he speaks. Before long, you’re separated, and the last image you hold onto is his hair tousled from your fingers and his wrinkled, untucked shirt.

From there, everything becomes a blur; moments merge into a disjointed sequence — being herded into a decontamination shower, the uncomfortable scratch of paper scrubs against your sensitive skin, a distressing medical exam, and then the questions. Endless questions bring back the haze of disjointed memories you’re struggling to process.

By the time you’re allowed to leave, the first rays of light filter through the windows of the bullpen. You watch the soft golden glow and listen to the faint chirping of birds. The city is waking up, bustling to life as it always does, but you feel disconnected from it all until you step into the elevator and turn to find Clark standing there.

He halts the doors from closing, his sad, mournful eyes meeting yours. A powerful wave of emotion rises in your throat as the weight of his guilt and your embarrassment settles inside you like a stone. There’s so much you want to say, so much that needs to be said, but it’s overshadowed by a deep ache in your chest. You feel so lost and unsure, terrified about what lies ahead that tears spill from your eyes, hot and unchecked. 

Clark exhales softly and steps back, but just before the doors close, he whispers your name. In that moment, everything else fades away — it’s just you, him, and all the unspoken words that linger between you.

Then, he’s gone and you’re left utterly alone. 

♡

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[mercwiththem0uth]

another drabble because i have soft!wade literally living on my mind 24/7. not proof read!

x gn!reader showering with deadpool and caring for him when his skin has a bad flare-up.

you had been in a relationship with wade for a couple of years now. you knew him inside-out. you loved him so deeply and would do absolutely anything for him, and he was totally head-over-heels for you because of it.

unfortunately, sometimes his mutation causes the scars on his skin to flare up, becoming irritable and painful. he would say that his skin essentially hurt him all the time, and he was just very used to the pain. however when these rare moments happened where it hurt more than usual, you tried to do everything you could to make things more comfortable for him.

in the earlier stage of your relationship, when the first flare-up happened, you spent a long time stood in the kitchen surrounded by a huge amount jars, test tubes, liquids, essential oils, and syringes, trying to find the best combination for a special lotion that wade could use to moisturise his unique skin.

wade stood in the doorway, a small smile on his face as he watched your eyes narrow, tongue poking out of your mouth slightly, concentrating so hard on the task in front of you.

you were so engrossed in measuring out the ingredients and stirring your lotions into different labelled pots, that you hadn't noticed him observing you.

"what are you doing, doll?" wade's voice spoke gently as he stepped towards you in the kitchen. you jumped, heart almost skipping a beat as you hadn't suspected anyone to be home with you.

realising it was him, you relaxed. "you're back early" you smiled at him, tilting your head.

"no I'm not" he smiled widely, motioning his head towards the clock, which read 7:36pm.

oh...

you had been stood in the kitchen doing your little experiments for much longer than you had realised.

wade came behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, dropping a kiss to your exposed shoulder, before whispering in your ear. "so... you never told me what you are doing." he stood back and leaned against the counter, inhaling a deep breath of the different smells that you had created. he was getting senses of ginger and honey... coconut and oatmeal.

"if i was to guess, you're starting up some sort of etsy home-business?"

you giggled at his silliness.

"i'm trying to create a lotion for you. to help... you know... your skin. i know it's been hurting recently." you blushed slightly, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed.

wade felt his heart swell at your words. he almost melted right there on the floor. you had only been together a couple of months, and wade was still very insecure about his appearance around you. but the fact that you were going out of your way to make something to help him, almost made him want to cry.

he knew in that moment that you were something extremely special. you were still in the early stage of your relationship, yet you were being so selfless and kind towards him.

"oh, baby" he whispered, a small smile on his face. "that is so kind. thank you."

the sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter. you hadn't seen a very affectionate/grateful side of wade yet, but little did you know that this was only the beginning, and you are yet to meet the very clingy, loveable deadpool.

he came and wrapped you in a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

you spent the rest of that evening sat together round the kitchen table, testing the lotions and altering some of the recipes, before he settled on one that he really liked. he still uses it to this day, and you happily make him a new batch every month.

wade sat in the passenger seat of dopinder's taxi, staring out the window. his lips were curled until a soft smile as he thought about that memory. you had been his biggest supporter since day one.

he climbed out of the taxi and gave dopinder a high five, before slowly making his way up to your shared apartment. his footsteps were slow and heavy as his muscles ached and his skin screamed against his suit with every step that he took. he finally crashed through the door, immediately relaxing slightly as the familiar scent and warmth of home surrounded him.

"hey baby!" he heard you call from the bedroom, as he kicked his shoes off and made his way to find you. you were folding laundry as you looked up at him and smiled, having missed him all day. he managed to smile back, never once breaking eye contact as you approached him for a kiss. resting your hands on his shoulders you pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, a toothy grin on your face as you pulled away.

"are you okay?" you said gently, watching as your boyfriend began to take his suit off, his face screwing up and flinching in agony every once in a while. "does it hurt?" you whispered.

he just nodded his head, a small sigh and grunt escaping his mouth. you frowned, wishing you could take away his pain. "i'm sorry baby, anything i can do to help?"

"i'm gonna take a shower" he said, voice barely above a whisper, as he peeled the last piece of his suit from his body. you followed him into the bathroom, watching as he leaned to turn the shower on to a lukewarm/cool temperature, making you frown again. he couldn't even enjoy the feeling of hot water. "what's the frown for, kitten?" he said, pulling his underwear down and kicking them off his feet.

"i just feel bad for you", you sighed, hating to see the love of your life feel this way.

"don't be silly" he pulled you against him, holding you in a small hug, "i'm used to it."

"but still, you don't deserve it."

"hey now, if i wasn't a mutant, cancer would've got me a long time ago and I never would've met you." he squeezed your shoulders before pulling away, watching your face waiting to see you smile.

he climbed into the shower, before turning back to you. "you can join me if you like," wriggling his eyebrows, "i wouldn't recommend it though, your sweet cheeks will get cold."

you smiled and rolled your eyes. eventhough he was in pain, he was trying to be his usual-self that always cheers you up. you pulled off your clothes and joined him in the shower, letting him stand at the water end. his big eyes looked down at you, filled with love and adoration, but underlying sadness. he was just in pain, and needed some comfort. you noticed immediately, reaching round to grab his soap. it was an expensive one, formulated to be kind and gentle to his skin.

you poured some onto a soft sponge and used your hands to lather it up with some water, directing him to turn around. you placed the sponge ever so gently at the top of his shoulder blades, before slowly moving it down across his back. he tensed up, liking the feeling but hating it at the same time. his hand reached backwards and he used his fingers to brush against your thigh, indicating to you that he wanted to hold your hand. you reached down and locked fingers with him, giving it a small squeeze, whilst still using the other hand to slowly sweep the sponge across his backside. you squeezed the sponge in your hand, letting the soapy water trickle down his body, so you weren't putting any friction on his most sensitive and inflamed areas.

you brought his hand up to your mouth to kiss it, before tightly tugging him to face you again. he turned around to let you wash his chest and stomach.

you peeked up at wade, his head was dropped down to his chest with his eyes screwed shut. you put an arm around his waist, pulling him close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. he leaned into your touch, wanting more. you breathed a laugh against his skin, giving one more kiss, before passing him the sponge and letting him finish washing his more intimate areas. (although he definitely would not have minded if you'd done that for him)

once he was rinsed off, you helped him out of the shower and passed him the fluffiest towel you could find. you left him alone and ventured back into the bedroom, pulling out some clean pyjamas for the both of you, before going to the kitchen to order his favourite chimichangas.

wade eventually appeared, wearing nothing but some cotton underwear. you looked at him confused, "i got some clothes out for you, bub."

his eyes darted down to his hand, where he was holding a bottle of your home-made lotion. your eyes softened as you whispered an "okay", before quickly washing your hands.

you joined wade on the couch where he was turning on a movie, sitting next to him and rubbing some lotion between your hands. he leaned into your touch and began to finally relax against you, as you gave him the gentlest massage you possibly could.

you spent the rest of the evening cuddling your big baby of a boyfriend, using your fingers to moisturise every nook and cranny of his back, arms, chest, legs, hands and feet. your heart melted every time you heard him let out a sigh or a grunt of pleasure, knowing his pain was finally easing. even if it was only slightly.

after you'd eaten, wade laid across the couch with his head in your lap, your hand resting lightly on his head. you were both fighting sleep as you tried to make it to the end of the movie.

before drifting away, you felt wade tilt his head up to look at you. you met his eyes, softly blinking at him, trying to read his thoughts.

"i don't deserve you," he mumbled, reaching his fingertips up to caress your cheek. "thank you for everything"

you stared lovingly at him for a moment, before leaning down and pressing a long kiss to his lips. he meant every word. what did he do to deserve someone who loved and cared for him so deeply?

guys I'm so in love with this fictional man it's not even funny i just wanna kiss his face and give him the love he deserves :'(

[jmdbjk]

We are sure.

WARNING, SPOILERS.

I have no doubt that every now and then, especially in the beginning, at the end of a long day or when they are tasked with doing something they've never encountered... they look at each other and say ...

And it allows them to laugh it off. They said they were making memories they could look back on while doing their service. What a fantastic period of time they had to create these memories.

This ending scene of the last episode of Are You Sure? has changed the way I think about that moment of them from the Bangtan Bomb of their enlistment day.

On their enlistment day we were so sad and were convinced they were too. And they were. But at that time we had no idea the fun they had during these three fantastic trips, they ate some wonderful food, drank a lot of beer, saw sights they don't have time to see when they are traveling for promotions and performing, spent a lot of "just being" time together which is obviously something they enjoy doing.

And knowing that at the end of Jungkook's I Am Still documentary, there was a scene of him showing Jimin his shaved head... it's as close to seeing it all play out as we're ever going to get. Piece it all together and you have a clear picture of this strong connection they have with each other.

Like Hobi said in his recent Weverse letter, I hope Jimin and Jungkook have come to realize by now it will all be ok. 27 days left until Hobi is back. 8 months, 23 days until Jimin and Jungkook are back. 38 more Mondays.

And they gave us a tiny bit of hope that this isn't the end of Are You Sure.

Delulu time: They have a lot of time to scheme and plan a reboot. Planning the next trip can also help them have something to look forward to. Like Jin did, they can do a quick live at the Hybe building before jetting off to Bora Bora or Alaska to start filming the reboot of AYS. They can make it happen if they want to. It will be another ten days after their discharge before Yoongi is free too and the group can be one again. They can go away for a few days, get comfortable with cameras and civilian clothes again. Get busy, Universe! Please?

All along, Jungkook was expressing his love for these trips, his excitement for the experiences, his enthusiasm for the good food and his easy-going vibe because he's with someone who fits him so well. Jimin enjoys the vibe of being with Jungkook and enjoys watching Jungkook be immersed in everything that brings him joy. He said if we watched these episodes, this is what its like at home.

They made it clear there are no other people on earth either of them would rather be with than each other for these trips. Jungkook said it himself: these were the best trips of his life. Jimin teared up a little when it was time to head to the airport. This was a chapter closing in their lives. If it impacted them this much, they will for sure somehow try to do it again after military service.

Besides the fact the two loved creating this, the series has been ranking high in viewers which would help sway any decisions as to whether a reboot is worth the expense. Of course it is!

Questions: I guess the behind episodes will also be on Disney? Why would they be submitted for ratings if they were only going to be on BangtanTV? Or maybe they'll be on Weverse too?

With the purchase of the photo book, there is a digital code for 52 more minutes of footage. We'll begin seeing clips of that on Sept. 29 when people begin receiving their copies. Got mine! Can't wait for it to get here!

[lewmagoo]

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part one: ain’t no love in oklahoma

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

description: in which you return to the place where you lost everything

warnings: 18+ only, heavy themes, character death, grief, blood and injury, angst with a positive ending, allusions to sex, eventual smut, inaccurate weather terms, please do not check my science lol this story requires some suspension of disbelief. i usually try not to say anything 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

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!

You never thought you would return to the place where you lost everything. 

When you left, you had sworn to yourself that you would never come back. This part of your life, the unspeakable tragedy you had endured, had to stay in the past where it belonged. And for six years, you managed to make yourself forget while you moved on with life.

You knew it wasn’t just you who had been affected by what happened. It had touched the lives of multiple people, shattering everything around them. But while they had stayed, you had decided to run. Away from the agony, away from the memories, away from the man you loved. It was better that way. At least, that was what you told yourself. 

Now you found yourself standing in the middle of the rolling plains of the place that you used to live, wisps of tall grass brushing against your legs as the breeze rushed over the earth. It was all so familiar, yet so foreign. You felt so out of place, like an alien that had just descended the sky and landed on Earth for the very first time.

As you bent to pluck a stalk of switchgrass, you were struck with a memory of the day you left. Sprawled out in the long grass, your first love lying at your side. Rhett Abbott. The man you had known since you were mere babies in the church nursery together. Saying goodbye to him was the hardest part of leaving. But in your heart of hearts, you knew this was the way it had to be. You couldn’t look at him without being reminded of all you had lost. Of all he had lost. 

“I wish you’d stay,” his voice, filled with longing, cut into the still morning air. Such a contrast to the chaos that had transpired in recent days.

“You know I can’t,” you whispered, afraid that if you spoke any louder, your voice would break, and you would succumb to tears.

“We can figure things out, you an’ me. Work through it together.”

“Rhett–”

“Fuckin’ twister took so much from us. Now you’re leavin’, too.” Defeat was evident in his voice.

You sat up, turning to look down at him. “We talked about this, Rhett. I have to leave.”

He sat up, too, nodding somberly. “Y’don’t have to. You just can’t stand the thought of facin’ reality. So you’re runnin’ from it.” Then he rose to his feet, grass crunching beneath him. “Not all of us have the luxury of bolting when things get tough, honeybee. The rest of us have gotta stay and face it head-on.”

Then he walked away, and you let him, knowing this would be the last time you would see him. A love lost. 

Yet here you were again, in the same field where your romance had ended. However, you weren’t here to see him. You had returned to tie up loose ends, and face the past you had spent the last handful of years running from.

Rhett had been right about one thing. You needed to face it all head-on. But you weren’t sure if you had the strength to do so.

Being back in your hometown of Wabang, Oklahoma was a surreal experience. Nothing and everything had changed all at once. Dorothy McIntyre still owned Mac’s Diner on Main Street. Mrs. Simmons still tended to her rose garden every single day, keeping it in pristine condition. The local Baptist church still looked exactly the same as the day you left. 

It felt like the town was stuck in time.

But there were also some changes. A new bar had opened up in town. A coffee shop, too, which was quite the upgrade. Even though life was slow moving here, it still continued on, just like it did everywhere else. 

Coming back was never something you thought was in the cards for you, but a handful of your family members had remained here when you left. Including your great-aunt. Sadly, she had recently passed away, and you’d surprised yourself by willingly volunteering to go sort through her belongings and prepare her house to be sold.

You had a good portion of vacation days saved from your job at the National Weather Service Headquarters, and you decided to take them while you had the chance. Instead of going on a fun getaway, you were cleaning out a house that was just a few steps down from a hoarding house. 

Your poor aunt had gotten rather forgetful in her old age, and had let so much clutter accumulate. Her declining physical health and mental capacity had inhibited her from cleaning, and, unfortunately, her children were not the most diligent when it came to looking after their mother, so no one had helped her with clearing any of the clutter when she was alive. 

That was where you came in. And you certainly had your work cut out for you. But you didn’t mind too terribly. You were glad to have a break from work. Monitoring weather was quite literally a 24/7 thing. You loved your job, but you often felt as if you were running about like a chicken with its head cut off.  

Especially now. It was late spring, and the weather had been wild and unkempt. It had a mind of its own, and with all the freak storms ripping through seemingly every state in the US, the National Weather Service was extremely busy. 

And here you were, in the heart of Tornado Alley, which had seen a record-breaking uptick in tornado activity this season. You couldn’t deny that the thought of being here during this season made your anxiety skyrocket. 

Where you lived now, in Maryland, tornadoes weren’t commonplace. They happened, yes, but not nearly as often as they did in your home state of Oklahoma. 

You had once loved studying the phenomenon of twisters. There had been a time when they fascinated you. A time when you chased after them to analyze their data. And then, one terrible, fateful day, while observing one of those vicious twisters, the unthinkable happened. 

Six Years Ago

“This one’s gonna be a big one. I can feel it,” Rhett’s voice was laced with electric excitement. He was a live wire, blue eyes wide and glimmering with his eagerness. 

His excitement rubbed off on you. You loved doing this together. It was what you were meant to do. “I can, too,” you replied with a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

He leaned in, his gaze flickering to your lips before he ducked his head to kiss you languidly. “Ready to wrangle this twister?” He asked. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Could’ya get a room?” Another voice cut across the site, interrupting your moment. 

Rhett scowled as he looked over your shoulder to find his brother approaching. “Just for that, I’m kissin’ her again.” He pulled you in and planted another kiss on you, dialing it up to disgust Perry all the more.

You shoved at Rhett’s chest, giggling when you parted. “Maybe let’s not gross out everyone within a ten-mile radius,” you joked, though you still leaned in to steal one last peck from him. 

“When you two are done neckin’, you might wanna pay attention to the radar. Winds are pickin’ up,” Perry explained, tapping the screen that was currently resting on the tailgate of Rhett’s truck.

“Think this one’s gonna touch down?” Came the voice of Rebecca, Perry’s wife, as she approached, tugging her ball cap down over her blonde ponytail. 

“Look at them clouds. It’s gotta,” Rhett mused, motioning toward the sky. Angry, black clouds roiled in the distance. Perry was right, the wind was picking up. Although it wasn’t cold, it still sent a shiver down your spine.

Lightning crackled across the gray backdrop, and thunder subsequently rumbled in the distance. As you felt the first drops of cool rain, you locked eyes with Rhett. His face broke into a grin.

“Let’s get goin’!” He called out, retrieving his worn felt hat, the one you’d gotten him on his eighteenth birthday, and placing it atop his head. 

You found yourself laughing with glee as you moved to scurry to the passenger seat of his rickety old GMC Sierra that had seen more storms than you could count. As you wrenched the door open, the sound of scrambling footsteps alerted you that someone was approaching quickly. You turned to find Lydia, your best friend, running toward you, her French braids bouncing wildly about.

“Don’t forget this!” She called out, shoving a walkie-talkie into your hand. Her own remained clipped to the waistband of her cargo pants. 

“Thanks!” You replied. “You riding with us or with Perry and Bec?”

“I’ll ride with them, since they’ve got more room and all,” she told you. Unlike Rhett’s truck, Perry’s had a backseat.

“Okay, see you after the storm. Be careful, alright?” You surged forward and gave her a quick hug. Your friendship went way back to childhood, when you had met each other in kindergarten. You had been inseparable ever since. With your shared fascination with the weather, it was only natural that she would decide to chase twisters alongside you.

“Let’s go to that new ice cream place when we’re done!” She suggested when you parted. 

“Sure, I’ll mention it to Rhett. See ya in a bit!” With that, you yanked the truck door open and climbed inside, while Lydia rushed off to get into Perry’s truck. 

As you settled in the seat, you set your walkie down in the cupholder and grabbed the monitor you used to keep an eye on the weather radar. There, at the top of the screen, you saw the red banner that listed which counties had just been put under tornado watches. 

Glancing back up at the sky, your heart quickened in your chest. While it wasn’t guaranteed that a twister would touch down, it was a very high possibility, especially with the string of storms that had ripped through the area lately. 

“Let’s go chase this son’bitch,” Rhett murmured as he settled into the driver’s seat, tugging his seatbelt into place. He turned the key, and the truck roared to life. Without wasting a single moment, he threw the gear into drive and peeled out of the vacant lot you’d all been congregating in. 

He kept to the east of the storm, offering you the best vantage point. Most storms moved northeast, at thirty to forty miles per hour, so you had to move fast to keep up. Rhett stepped on the accelerator, wasting no time. He was vibrating with adrenaline beside you, and it was infectious. 

He always had been a bit of an adrenaline junkie. When he was in high school, he’d started bull riding competitively. He loved the thrill, the danger, the electricity he felt atop a thousand-pound animal. 

Chasing twisters was similar to bull riding. Trying to hold on for dear life as an angry, churning force threatened to toss you through the air like a rag doll. Once he’d had a taste, he couldn’t get enough. 

His love of the thrill and your fascination with weather made you a dream team. 

Turning it into a family affair wasn’t necessarily the goal, but Rebecca found the phenomenon of tornadoes fascinating, and Perry was simply along for the ride, so the four of you started storm chasing together. 

And of course, Lydia had been on board from the moment you suggested it. Much like Rhett, she also loved thrill seeking, and was content to join your little team. She was particularly good at analyzing storm data. Her entire motivation was figuring out how twisters worked. 

Meteorology was a science that was relatively new. While the study of weather itself had been around for millennia, it didn’t quite progress until scientists began utilizing computers to analyze meteorological data. 

Even with all the progress that had been made, tornadoes were difficult to study. Things like hurricanes and tropical storms were easier to predict and monitor. But not twisters. They were wild, uncontrollable beasts that could touch down at any moment and wreak all sorts of havoc in mere seconds.

Lydia wanted to learn all she could about the phenomena, and so did you. Your shared interest allowed you to work very well together. 

You were so grateful for the little group you worked with. Four people you loved very much. You’d known Rhett, Perry, and Lydia your entire life, of course, and Rebecca was a newer addition. She’d joined you in the last five years, but she was an excellent asset with her history as a news meteorologist. 

What a merry band of storm chasers you were, heading into the face of danger, hoping to encounter one of the most mysterious weather anomalies in existence. 

“How’s she lookin’, darlin’?” Rhett asked, one hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh lovingly. 

You gazed down at the screen in your lap, paying attention to the large highlighted region that showed which direction the storm was moving. The severity was mounting. 

“Pretty intense,” you answered. Then, as if on cue, the telltale sound of hailstones began to patter against the roof of the truck. Your face broke into a grin. 

Over the walkie, Lydia’s voice could be heard. “We’ve got hail!” She cried in excitement. 

The shift in temperature was a good sign. These were peak conditions for a tornado to form in. You grabbed the hand Rhett had placed on your leg, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed right back. 

Moments later, the hail died down, and you opened the truck window, listening. A crack of thunder in the distance. And then, a split second of utter silence. 

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end. 

You turned your head, looking straight at Rhett. The blue of his eyes was bright as could be, shining with anticipation. 

And then, just beyond him, you saw it. 

“Holy shit.”

He glanced to his left and saw it too. A few hundred yards from you, in the open fields, a funnel cloud had begun to form. Your eyes never left it, staring at the sky, willing the funnel to touch down. 

“Come on, come on, come on.”

“We got touchdown yet?!” Rhett asked, eyes half on the road, half on the funnel. 

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. 

And then, all at once, it made contact with the ground. Lydia was shouting through the walkie, and you grabbed the device to answer her. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your teeth chattering as adrenaline began to course through you. 

What a beautiful sight it was. Terrifying and destructive, but beautiful. 

“Goddamn, look at that,” Rhett breathed in awe. He kept his foot planted firmly on the accelerator, maintaining a fast pace, staying just ahead of the swirling tunnel of wind. 

But your spirit of wonder soon dissipated as you noticed something. “It looks like it’s getting bigger,” you remarked. The change was obvious. It was covering more ground. Moving faster and faster. 

Within seconds, your entire life was turned upside down. 

“Oh my God. Rhett…” Your voice failed you, coming out as more of a whisper. You gripped his arm, and he quickly brought both hands to the steering wheel, knuckles white. 

He gazed out at the approaching swirl, and he knew he was no longer chasing the storm. No, this time, the tides had turned. 

Now it was time to run. 

You scrambled for the walkie-talkie, fingers closing around the plastic, but it flew out of your hands as Rhett slammed on the brakes. You let out a yelp as you plummeted forward, seatbelt stopping you from hitting the dashboard. 

“We gotta find cover!” He shouted, throwing the gear into park and unbuckling his own seatbelt. His face was awash with fright, pale as could be. He pointed to your right. “Old Miller property’s over there. Maybe we can make it to the storm cellar!”

Terror-stricken, you scrambled to open your door, tumbling out onto the asphalt. As soon as you righted yourself, Rhett was grabbing you, hand tight on your bicep, dragging you across the road. Your boots crunched against gravel, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the roar of the wind.

It was so close you could feel it tugging at your clothes. A vortex threatening to swallow you whole. If it overtook you, you’d never make it out alive. 

Together, you dashed across an old wheat field, straight for the Miller farm. It had been abandoned for years, but the storm shelter remained, and it was your best chance at survival. 

You could see it just up ahead, jutting slightly from the ground. But your legs ached, and your lungs burned like fire as you struggled to take in gulps of air. So close yet so far. Just a little further. 

You’d never been so terrified in your life. You understood now what people meant when they said their life flashed before their eyes. Yours did at that moment, as you ran alongside the man you loved. 

Images of your family, memories of all the good times you’d had with Rhett, flashes of laughing and singing and being young and foolish and so full of wonder. Was it all for naught? 

“C’mon, baby! We’re almost there!” His desperate shout filled your ears. He yanked you toward him and you nearly lost your footing, and for one horrifying moment, you thought you were going to fall, but Rhett caught you in his strong arms, continuing on across the field. 

By the grace of the Almighty, you made it to the shelter. Rhett threw himself down, lifting the iron bar that was fastened across the rusted doors. Hinges squealed as he heaved them open, and he pulled you forward, urging you down the rickety old ladder into the abyss below. 

You scrambled down, and he followed, slamming the door shut as he did so. When you reached the end of the ladder, your feet hit the floor unsteadily, and you yelped as your foot gave out beneath you, ankle twisting painfully. But your injury was the least of your worries. 

In the inky darkness, Rhett landed beside you and reached out, grabbing you, pulling you close. 

“Rhett!” You sobbed, burying your face against his chest as he cautiously guided you away from the overhead doors. 

“I’ve got you!” He assured you, holding you tightly. He pulled you both to the damp ground, and you curled up beneath him as he laid his body atop your own. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

He held you, his large hands covering your ears as the violent storm raged above you. 

Often, tornadoes were described as sounding like a freight train, and you would agree with that statement, having witnessed so many of them. But right now, as you huddled beneath the ground right below the savage phenomenon, it didn’t sound like a train at all. 

It sounded like the world was coming to an end. 

You weren’t entirely certain how long you stayed down there, pressed against the earth, as Rhett shielded you. It felt like hours. Days. Weeks. 

And then, all at once, it stopped. 

The world went quiet again. Nature went back to its natural order. The danger had passed. 

You laid there for a few moments, both of you breathing hard, hearts racing. You were trembling. So was he. But you were alive. 

“Are you okay?” Rhett asked as he lifted his body from yours, kneeling beside you. 

You sat up, trying to find your voice. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine,” he breathed. 

And then, “Oh my God. Perry, Bec and Lydia!”

You hurried to stand, and Rhett grabbed your arm, leading you both through the dark, feeling for anything that might be in your path. Once he’d grabbed onto the ladder, he ascended it first, grunting as he reached up to open the doors. 

Daylight flooded the cellar, and you shielded your eyes for a moment before you took hold of the ladder yourself and began climbing. 

As you both emerged, the sight you were met with was harrowing. The old Miller farmhouse was entirely decimated, blown flat to the ground like a house made of popsicle sticks. The barn was destroyed, too, pieces of red painted wood littering the surrounding property. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. That had to be an EF4. Maybe even a five,” Rhett said in utter disbelief, his eyes wide, jaw slacken. 

A sob tore itself from your throat as you turned, fully taking in the level of damage around you. There was seemingly no sign of Perry’s truck. 

“Do you think they found cover?” You asked, voice trembling. 

Rhett’s face was grim, but he still said, “‘m sure they did, they’re smart, they’re probably just hunkerin’ down in a ditch somewhere.” Then he grasped your hand. “Let’s head out to the road and see if we can fine ‘em.”

You intertwined your fingers with his and followed, but your stomach was in knots. What if your friends had been consumed by the storm? What if they were dead?

As you walked, you both called out for them, hoping they’d hear and yell back. But your voices bounced off of the eerily silent countryside. Such a contrast to the chaos that had just transpired. 

“They can’t have gone too far. They were right behind us,” Rhett spoke. You could hear the distress in his voice, although he was trying to keep himself steady for you. 

You scanned the horizon, and that’s when you saw it. A long ways off, the silhouette of an overturned truck could be seen. Perry’s truck. 

“Rhett,” came your whisper. 

“I see it.”

Together, you broke into a run, sprinting across the road and into the field on the other side. Faster and faster, desperate to see what was inside the truck. Praying it was empty, that your friends had found cover. 

You came to a stop once you were within a few feet of the truck, and Rhett held out his arm, glancing back at you as he caught his breath. “Just wait, I’ll check,” he told you. 

You shook your head, breathing still labored. “No, let’s look together.”

Holding his gaze, a beat passed before he reached for your hand again. Together, you cautiously approached the truck, which was turned onto its side. It was severely battered, damaged beyond repair. 

As you rounded the front, you peered down into the window and your blood ran cold. “Oh dear God.”

Rhett jumped into action, climbing atop the side of the truck. The driver's side glass was shattered, allowing him to reach in. “Per!” He exclaimed, gripping his brother’s shirt, tugging him upward. “Perry!”

But he got no response. The man was unconscious. A nasty gash marred the side of his head, crimson blood trickling down his face. He was terribly pale.

Beneath him, Rhett could see Rebecca. His heart sank like a rock. Just from the way she was positioned, he could tell she was not going to fare well. He couldn’t see if her chest was rising and falling or not. And when he squinted to look into the back seat, he saw Lydia, slumped over, but he couldn’t tell if she was dead or just merely unconscious.  

“Are they alive?!” You couldn’t tell from your vantage point. All you could see was Perry and Rebecca. If Lydia was still in the truck, she was concealed in the back. 

“I-I can feel a pulse, but Perry’s bleedin’ real bad. Call 911!” He didn’t give you any information about the girls. 

“Rhett, the girls! Are they—”

“Just call an ambulance!” He repeated with urgency. 

You did as you were told, hurrying to grab your phone from your pocket, hands shaking fiercely as you dialed the emergency number. You prayed you would get an answer, knowing the call lines would be flooded after the storm. 

Moments later, an operator answered. Panicked, you explained your situation, begging them to send help. The woman remained calm, asking for your name and location, assuring you that assistance was on the way. You had no recollection of what you said to her. Everything was a blur, adrenaline giving you tunnel vision.

After you hung up the phone, Rhett jumped down from the truck. You threw yourself into his arms as he neared you, tears spilling down your cheeks. “They said they’re on their way,” you whimpered. 

He hugged you close, and you could feel the way he trembled. “I didn’t…I didn’t want to pull him out. The EMTs should be the ones to do it, just in case anythin’ is broken.” While that was partially true, he was also terrified that if he started pulling everyone out, he’d find the girls were dead. It would bring reality crashing down upon him. The thought made his gut churn with dread, and he found himself praying to a God he didn’t even believe in, asking Him to spare his brother and his sister-in-law, and your dearest friend Lydia. 

It took longer than usual, because so many ambulances had already been dispatched to aid those harmed in the storm. But as time ticked on, the more worried you became. “I’m scared,” you whimpered.

Rhett held you tighter, resting his cheek atop your head. He felt so powerless. “I know. Me too.”

Moments later, the wail of emergency vehicle sirens could be heard. Multiple ambulances and a firetruck approached, all pulling into the grass toward the scene. Rhett let you go, the two of you jogging ahead to meet the first responders.

“There’s three of ‘em in the truck!” Rhett exclaimed, “they’re all unconscious, from what I could tell!”

“We’ll get them out!” One of them assured you both. 

You watched as they all rushed toward the truck, firefighters and EMTs alike. Helplessly, you remained on the sidelines, clinging to Rhett, fingers clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. 

He wanted to tell you they’d be okay. That everything was going to be fine, that your friends were unharmed. But in his heart, he knew nothing would ever be okay again. 

Perry was pulled from the vehicle first, still unconscious. Together, you watched as he was placed on a gurney, where an EMT hurriedly checked his vitals, searching for life. 

“I’ve got a pulse, but it’s weak!” The young woman shouted. 

He was alive. That was a good sign, right? Maybe it meant the girls were alright as well. You could only hope. 

A saw was taken to the door, and it was removed so that the inside of the truck was more easily accessible. Then they pulled Rebecca out. She was so still, unresponsive as she was hauled down to a second gurney. 

You heard a voice shout that they couldn’t find a pulse. 

You placed your hand over your mouth, a grieved whimper escaping your throat. Rhett’s name slipped past your lips, and you buried your face in his chest, unable to watch. You could hear his sharp intake of breath. 

Then Lydia was pulled from the wreckage. While you kept your face hidden against Rhett, he watched on, and he knew, just from the sight of her, that she was gone.

His grip tightened on you. It felt as if a dagger had been plunged into his chest. He sucked in a sharp, ragged breath, his eyes falling shut for a moment as the weight of what was happening settled upon him. 

You lifted your head at that very moment, and you turned, realizing your best friend had been taken out of the truck. On instinct, you tried to pull away from Rhett. Tried to run toward the scene, to see for yourself if Lydia was alright. 

But Rhett held you back. “No,” he told you. 

“Let me go, I need to see if she’s okay!”

He repeated himself. “No.” He would not release you, no matter how hard you struggled. 

Tears blurred your vision. “Rhett, please! I need to know if she’s alive!” 

He grabbed both of your shoulders and looked right into your eyes. “Darlin’, stop! Just let ‘em do their jobs!” He didn’t want you near it. Didn’t want you to witness death up close and personal like that. It would haunt you forever. 

Your knees buckled, and he caught you as you fell into him, wailing from the weight of your pain. Brokenhearted, Rhett cradled you in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut as his own tears made their way down his cheeks. This wasn’t happening. It wasn’t real. It had to be a dream. A nightmare. 

And then one of the sheriff’s deputies was approaching. Linden Haynes. “You two need an escort to the hospital?” He asked, voice low. Knowing you’d both want to go in support of your friends. 

Rhett nodded, trying to find his voice. “Yeah…yeah. Thanks. I, uh, don’t know where my truck got blown to.”

Linden hummed, his face sympathetic. “No problem. We’ll find your truck somewhere. Once things calm down, I can see if we can get some deputies searchin’ for it.” He moved to walk away, motioning for you both to follow. 

“Linden, are…are they okay?” you heard yourself speak. 

He turned, trying to mask his expression, but you could see it in his eyes. He had witnessed the wreckage firsthand. He’d seen the EMTs and firefighters rescuing your friends. He knew. 

“Let the docs and nurses at the hospital tell you that, they’ll know more than me,” was his response.

Defeated, you followed him to his squad car, your body still leaning into Rhett. You climbed into the backseat together, and as soon as you were settled, you buried your face in your hands, trying desperately to hold yourself together. But you were unraveling, and the dread was threatening to swallow you whole. 

The hospital was in a frenzy when you arrived. So many people hurt in the storm. You heard murmurs of the tornado being an EF5, which made your eyes go wide as you looked at Rhett. It was a wonder you’d even made it to safety. 

Sitting there in that hospital waiting room was the most excruciating moment of your life. Hoping your friends would survive. Knowing that they might not. 

Rhett was on the verge of potentially losing his brother. And while his relationship with Perry had been tumultuous over the years, he cared about him deeply, and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing him. 

You sat side by side on vinyl-covered chairs, holding each other’s hands in a death grip, startling anytime a doctor or nurse walked by, thinking one of them was coming to give you an update. 

Finally, an update did come. 

You had no recollection of ending up on the floor. But there you were, crumbled against the cool tile as Rhett tried to console you, while simultaneously wracked with grief himself. 

They were dead. Lydia and Rebecca. They were dead, and they had been since they were pulled from the wreckage. Perry, however, was alive, but just barely holding onto life. 

The doctor was a family friend. He offered to contact yours and Rhett’s respective families. It was all a bur. And then you found yourself in Perry’s hospital room, which was stone silent, filled with dreadful anticipation. 

Your memory of that day was patchy at best. Your brain had filtered out some of the more traumatic parts, forcing you to forget. The weight of your anguish made it feel as if you were underwater, being pulled down by a cinder block tied to your ankle. No matter how hard you pedaled, you couldn’t come back up to the surface. 

Late into the night, Perry succumbed to his injuries, too. He slipped away, with his family surrounding him. Worst of it all? His four-year-old daughter was left an orphan in the wake of her parents’ deaths. 

You lost a piece of yourself when three of the dearest people in your life were taken from you. It sent both you and Rhett into a spiral. He blamed himself. You blamed yourself. It was something you could not move past. Every time you looked at him, it was a reminder of that fateful day a twister took everything from you. 

You couldn’t bear it any longer. So you ran. You left Rhett. You left all you had ever known. And you told yourself you would never come back. 

Present Day

Until now. 

You were hoping to go undetected. You weren’t sure if you could handle seeing anyone from your past. Least of all Rhett. With the way you left things between you and him, you doubted he wanted to see you anyway. 

But you should have known you couldn’t hide forever. 

You had been planning to stay in your aunt’s house while you were in town, but when you arrived and saw the dire state it was in, you realized sleeping there wasn’t feasible. So you decided to stay at the only motel in town. 

Before checking in, you needed to stop by the store to buy a few necessities that you had forgotten to pack. You wondered if anyone would recognize you. Had you changed much physically over the last six years? You thought you had, but maybe others wouldn’t notice the change. 

You managed to slip into the store without being recognized. You went about your entire shopping trip, remaining anonymous. You paid for your things without a single soul uttering your name. But just when you thought you were home free, you saw someone who made you stop dead in your tracks for the briefest of moments. 

Cecilia Abbott. 

Your heart rate picked up, anxiety sizzling through your veins like a live wire. She hadn’t seen you yet, too busy bagging her groceries to notice. Perhaps, if you were quick enough, you could evade her and make your escape. 

You almost did, too. Until you heard the sound of your name being called. 

You flinched, pausing for a moment, debating whether you should keep going. But then she was descending upon you and you had nowhere else to go. 

“It can’t be! After all these years?!” The woman exclaimed. 

Slowly, you turned around, trying your best to put on a pleasant expression, masking your look of distress. “Cece, hi!” You greeted. You had no idea how this was going to go. Would she be angry at you for walking out on her son? Would she welcome you back to town with open arms?

She stared at you in disbelief, shopping bag balanced in the crook of her elbow. “Goodness, how long’s it been?” But she knew how long it had been. She never lost count of how many years had passed since the death of her child. 

“Six years,” you heard yourself reply. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. 

“Wow. I can’t believe it.” Cecilia shook her head. “It’s almost like seein’ a ghost! Never thought you’d come back.”

“I didn’t either. But I, uh…I’m here cleaning out my aunt’s place.”

Her face softened, and she shifted, leaning toward you. “I’m sorry. She’ll be missed around here, that’s for sure. S’ a good thing you’re takin’ on the responsibility of cleanin’ that house, though. She did let it go in her old age.”

You hummed in agreement. “Yeah, she really wasn’t there mentally the last few years of her life. It’s sad. But, I’m hoping to have the house looking good as new when I’m done with it.”

Cecilia shifted her bag of groceries to her other hand. “Say, you got a place to stay while you’re in town?” 

“I was going to stay at the house, but it’s too much of a disaster. I’m just gonna get a motel room.” 

You should have known what she would say next. Gasping, she reached out and touched your arm. “Nonsense! You should come stay at our house!”

Your eyes widened. She wasn’t serious, was she? After all that had transpired? “Oh, I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

But once Cecilia Abbott’s mind was set on something, she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “No imposition at all! Home cooked meals, and a clean bed that doesn’t have bed bugs like that nasty ole motel does. The Bed Bug Inn, that’s what everyone calls it. Plus, we’re not that far from your aunt’s, just down the road. Closer than the motel is.”

She did have a point. But you couldn’t fathom the thought of stepping back onto the Abbott property again. You couldn’t face the demons you’d left there. “Cece, I appreciate it, but—”

“I insist. You at least need to come for dinner! I’m makin’ roast tonight, y’know, the one Rhett always loved? If you decide you still don’t want to stay after that, that’s fine. But you have to let me feed ya, I’m not gonna let you go hungry, girl.”

At the mention of Rhett’s name, your breath caught in your chest. “Oh, um… Rhett, how is he?” Your voice raised a little in pitch, and you cleared your throat. 

“He’s fine. Still livin’ in the house with us, but he’s gone all the time. Storm chasin’ business keeps him busy.”

He was still chasing? “I can’t believe he’s still going after storms,” you spoke in disbelief. 

Cecilia shrugged. “He never lost his love for it,” she mused. For a moment, there was a faraway look in her eyes, as if she was remembering something. Likely the way she had lost her son to the very thing Rhett loved doing. 

Then she snapped out of it. “Anyway, come over for supper! Five o’clock!” Without giving you a chance to protest, she turned on her heel and bustled out of the store, leaving you with no choice but to take her up on her offer. You didn’t want to offend her by not showing up. 

But could you handle it? Stepping back into the past, into a version of yourself that you had not been in six years. You thought of Amy, Perry and Rebecca’s daughter. She would be nine years old by now. Would she even remember you? Would she blame you for the death of her parents?

Surely not. She had been four when they died. You doubted a four-year-old had the emotional or mental wherewithal to blame you for the loss of her parents.

But it wasn’t Amy you were afraid to be reunited with. Not really. You were utterly terrified at the thought of seeing Rhett again. Would he be happy to see you? Would he be angry? Hurt? Confused? What would he say to you? How would you respond?

All these questions swirled through your mind as you sauntered back to your car. Maybe he wouldn’t even be home. But if you chose to stay at the Abbott’s, you would likely run into him at some point. Besides, you weren’t sure how long you were going to remain in town. You felt like you were taking advantage of Cecilia’s kindness. So, you determined that you would only go over for dinner. You would not stay the night.

With that thought in mind, you climbed into your car and headed back to your aunt’s house. 

A few hours later, you were back in your car all over again, thrumming with anxiety, wondering if you were making the right decision. It would be so easy to turn back around, but you forced yourself to continue on, hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

When you turned into the Abbott farm, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia so intense you slowed your car to a stop, staring at the house in the distance. It was the same as it had always been. A cozy house boasting of a well-kept garden, a bran off to the left with a nice coat of bright red paint. Chickens milled about the yard. Horses played in the field. Cows lowed in the distance. 

It still felt like home.

With a deep breath, you eased off the brake and urged your car down the long driveway. As you parked near the house, you caught sight of a young girl with honey-colored hair, swinging on the rope swing that was tied to the tree in the front. 

Your heart clenched in your chest. She’d grown so much. It was a reminder that life had continued in your absence. 

Upon seeing you, she hopped down, eyes alight with joy. “Gramma! Gramma!” She called, rushing into the house to alert Cecilia to your arrival.

You took a moment to steel yourself before you climbed out of the car, shoes crunching against dirt and gravel as you approached the porch. As you ascended the steps, you were once again greeted by the little girl. Amy.

“Hi!” She exclaimed. “I’m Amy. Gramma says you can come on in!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Hi, Amy. It’s been a long time. Last time I saw you, you were this big!” You held your hand low, indicating her size.

“I don’t really remember you. But Gramma and Grampa do. They said you and Uncle Rhett used to date.”

You were slightly taken aback, but recovered quickly. “Uh, yeah…yeah, we did. That was a long time ago though.”

Amy shrugged. “I wish he was still dating you. You’re super pretty!” 

“Oh…thank you!” Was all you could say in reply. She certainly was prone to saying whatever came to mind. However, she moved on from it quickly, motioning you inside.

“C’mon!” She said, waving you on, and you moved to follow her, stopping at the door to take your shoes off before you ambled into the kitchen. 

The smell of food cooking made your stomach growl, and you realized only then that you were very hungry. A home-cooked meal would do you some good.

At the sound of your footsteps, Cecilia turned, her face lighting up at the sight of you. “You made it! I’m so glad. Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

You smiled softly, nodding your head. “Is there anything I can do to help?” You wanted to make yourself useful, rather than standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. 

“You can help me set the table!” Amy chirped, already walking to the table with her arms full of plates. 

“Silverware’s in the drawer to the right of the sink,” Cecilia reminded you. But you remembered from the countless dinners you had been a part of here.

With a nod, you moved to gather enough cutlery for everyone, and as Amy set each plate down, you folded a napkin and placed the silverware upon it. You fell into a rhythm, stopping only to grab drinking glasses from the cupboard.

You noticed that the number of place settings was five. That had to mean Rhett was also joining the family for dinner, unless it was a place for someone else. You wanted to ask Cecilia if he was coming, but didn’t want to make things awkward, so you left it alone.

You were kept busy as she handed you different serving dishes full of various foods to put on the table. As you placed a basket of dinner rolls amongst the rest of the food, the sound of the back door opening caught your attention.

Your heart leapt in your chest, and you lifted your head, expecting to see Rhett. Instead, you were met with Royal’s look of surprise. Cecilia looked over at him and motioned to the sink. “Wash up, supper’s ready. We’ve got a guest.”

He nodded as he hung his hat on the peg on the wall, pausing to take off his muddy boots. “I’ll be damned,” he remarked, directing it at you. “Didn’t know you were back in town.”

“Saw her at the market today, so I invited her over. Didn’t tell ya because you an’ Rhett have been in that darn pasture with no signal all day.”

Royal hummed gruffly as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Storm wiped that fence clean out. We had to replace every last post,” he sighed, “took us all day.”

“S’why we need to hire some hands, Roy,” Cecilia lowered her voice, but you still heard her.

Clearly this was something they talked about frequently, because he huffed and shook his head. But he didn’t continue the potential argument. Instead, he turned, drying his hands on a towel. His eyes regarded you kindly. “Been a long time,” he murmured. “Good to see you.”

You managed a smile. “Good to see you too.”

“Rhett on his way?” Cecilia questioned as she placed the final platter on the table.

Again, your heart fluttered anxiously at the mention of his name.

Royal nodded, pulling out the chair at the head of the table and taking a seat. “Yeah, he’s right behind me, he was just puttin’ up the horses.”

“Alrighty, we’ll wait to say grace until he comes in then.”

There it was again, that deep feeling of utter nostalgia. Cecilia had always been a religious woman, and not a meal went by where she didn’t pray over the food. That aspect hadn’t changed at all.

“You can sit here!” Amy announced, patting an open chair next to Royal. “Me and Uncle Rhett will sit across from you.”

You’d have to look into his face. You wouldn’t be able to hide your expressions from him. Rhett had always been so perceptive, more so than anyone gave him credit for. He was always considered to be aloof by those who didn’t bother to get to know him, but you knew that was far from the truth. 

There had been a time when you knew him like the back of your hand. You wondered just how much he’d changed, if at all. 

Just as you took your seat at the table, the squeak of the screen door opening filled the room, and the scrape of boots against linoleum followed. Seconds later, there he was. Blue flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows. Same brown hat he’d had since he was a teenager, which he pulled from his head to place on the hat peg. 

“Uncle Rhett! Uncle Rhett! We have a guest!” Amy exclaimed. 

He hadn’t turned yet. Didn’t know you were there. “Who’s that, li’l pea?”

“Your old girlfriend!” She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

He saw you then, and his eyes went wide. You swore the clock hanging over the sink stopped, causing time to stand still. Everyone else in the room faded into the background as Rhett became your sole focus.

Suddenly you couldn’t breathe, as if someone had taken their hands and squeezed the air right out of your lungs. In the background, you heard Cecilia talking, likely explaining that she’d seen you at the store and invited you over.

You doubted Rhett heard her, either. He was too busy staring at you.

Seeing him again brought so many overwhelming emotions to the surface. Pain. Sadness. Longing. And suddenly, it felt as if the walls were closing in on you. You needed to bolt. 

Abruptly, you stood up, silently cursing yourself for your dramatics. “I–I’m so sorry, this was a mistake,” you squeaked, the legs of your chair scraping against the floor as you scrambled away from the table. 

And then you were fleeing. Just like you had six years ago. 

But this time, Rhett wasn’t going to let you go that easy. Shaking himself out of his momentary shock, his feet moved beneath him, carrying him after you. “Go ‘head an’ eat! I’m gonna talk to her!” He called over his shoulder to his family.

He threw open the front door, lurching out onto the porch. You were already at your car, wrenching the door open. “Wait!” He called out, dashing down the steps.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. You didn’t want him to see. 

“Would ya just– just stop!” He reached out, hand against your door, impeding you from opening it. 

“Let go of my door, please.” You were surprised you had it in yourself to speak.

“Not until you look at me.”

You were afraid you’d fall apart if you did. “Rhett, please.”

A beat passed. Then another. You could feel his body heat, he was standing so close. You could smell the sweat and dirt that clung to him after a hard day’s work. But there was something else, too. Something sweeter. Like freshly baled hay. 

Against your better judgment, you found yourself turning, drawn to him like a magnet. Your eyes finally met his, and you gasped softly. They were even bluer than you remembered. So clear and bright. 

But there was so much emotion there, too. It swam within his irises, and you saw the glint of gathering tears. He drank in the sight of you, and his chest heaved as he took in a breath, then another. “I…I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, as if speaking louder would cause his voice to fail him.

“Me too,” you agreed, as quiet as he was. There was so much you wanted to say. But most importantly, there were a few words he needed to hear. “I’m so sorry, Rhett.” You succumbed to your tears, as they slid down your cheeks in hot trails. 

His bottom lip quivered slightly, and he shook his head. “No, I…I should apologize. I shoulda been more understandin’. You were grievin’, same as me, and I wasn’t letting you do it in your own way. I made you feel like you had to run away, and I’m sorry.”

“Is that what you think? That it was your fault?” Your voice trembled. 

He shrugged, sniffling softly. “S’what I always assumed. Thought it had to be somethin’ I did.”

The thought of him living with that these last several years made your heart ache. “It was never your fault. It was me. I couldn’t face what happened. I thought…if I left, it would be easier. I could move on faster.”

Being reassured that it wasn’t his fault made him relax slightly, the tenseness leaving his shoulders. But there was still a shadow of sadness on his face. “Was it easier?”

At that, you shook your head, scoffing slightly. “No. Honestly, I think leaving you made it worse. I’m so sorry I did that to you. I’ve never really been able to forgive myself for it.”

“Guess we both have a lotta things we couldn’t forgive ourselves for,” he murmured. Then he bowed his head for a moment, gathering himself before looking at you again. “For what it’s worth, I ain’t holding it against you. Losin’ the three of them was the hardest fuckin’ thing we ever had to go through. I don’t blame you for leavin’ to see if it would make you feel better. You did what you thought you had t’ do.”

A fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes. “Oh, Rhett.” Without a second thought, you found yourself moving forward, wrapping your arms around him. He was caught by surprise for only a moment, and then his own arms, strong and steady, came up to encircle your waist. 

You stood there in the middle of the driveway, holding each other for what felt like hours. When you parted, you were both wiping at tear-streaked cheeks. 

“S’good to see you again, by the way,” Rhett said. “I mean it.”

“It’s good to see you too,” you replied honestly. Now that your initial upset was out of the way, you realized it felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. 

“What, uh, what are you doin’ back in town?”

“Cleaning out my great-aunt’s place,” came your answer, and he nodded in realization. “I ran into your mom at the store today, she invited me over. I didn’t really want to come, I was scared to face you again.”

He hummed in understanding. “She knew what she was doin’. She wanted us to talk. She’s a meddler like that.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he spoke. 

You couldn’t help but smile despite yourself. “I should’ve known it was a ruse. She’s convincing, that’s for sure. She’s also watching us right now.”

When Rhett turned, he found his whole family watching through the front window. Upon seeing him turn, they all rushed away from the window, dropping the curtain. 

He faced you again, and there was a smile on his face. “I’m glad she convinced ya, then. Can’t tell you how good it feels to clear the air after all this time. Losin’ you was rough on me, but I’m happy you’re back, even if it’s only for a small visit.” 

“I’m happy too. And I’m happy you stopped me from leaving this time.”

His eyes twinkled like stars, and he nodded toward the house. “Wanna head back in for supper?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Together, you walked back into the house. While there was so much you had missed in your time apart, and so much you still needed to reconcile with each other, you were relieved that the air was clear for the time being. You hadn’t expected Rhett to welcome you back with open arms, but you were thankful he had. 

It broke your heart that he had spent so much time believing he was to blame. It was your own inability to face your grief that was the culprit, not this sweet, blue-eyed cowboy. Never him. But maybe there was a new beginning between you. A chance to let the past remain where it belonged. 

When you stepped into the kitchen and took your seat at the table, the trio was pretending they hadn’t just been spying on you and Rhett. However, it was Amy who gave it away, giggling behind her hand. 

“You guys’re menaces,” Rhett grumbled as he placed a serving of potatoes on his plate. 

Cecilia tried to hide her smile, though ultimately failing. She looked at you, and her gaze was kind. “I’m sorry. Maybe I was a little…overzealous about makin’ sure you and Rhett saw each other again. But it worked, didn’t it?”

You couldn’t hold it against her. Without her meddling, you never would have spoken to Rhett. You likely would have done what you came to do and left town without a single glance in his direction. 

Cecilia had known that it was a chance for you to reconcile with Rhett. Holding on to something that happened years ago wasn’t healthy. She saw the opportunity to ease her son’s pain, and yours, and she took it. Thankfully, it had worked out in her favor. 

You couldn’t believe it had been that easy to reconcile with him. Even after you’d stormed off, upset, he’d still been willing to talk to you. It spoke volumes of his growth. Past Rhett wasn’t very good at communicating. But present Rhett seemed to have gotten much better at it. 

Dinner passed without a hitch, although there was still some slight tension. No one spoke of Perry, Rebecca, or Lydia. You got the sense that Royal and Cecilia were avoiding the subject. Likely because Amy was present. You had no idea how much she knew about that day, but you had no desire to bring it up. 

Conversation instead shifted to what you were doing with your life. 

“Where you workin’ now?” Royal asked, leaning back so that Cecilia could take his plate and clear the table in preparation for dessert. She’d denied your offer of help, insisting you sit and talk, because you were a guest. 

“I work for the National Weather Service, up in Silver Spring, Maryland.”

“No kiddin’?” He replied, eyes glimmering with intrigue. “What d’ya do there?”

You took a sip of your water before you answered. “I’m an analyst. I analyze weather data from all over the country. I work with a team and we try to predict, as best we can, what the weather is going to look like.”

“Sounds intense,” Rhett spoke up. You glanced over at him. He was leaning back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs. 

Until his mother slapped her dish towel against his arm. “Stop leanin’ back in that chair. The legs’ll give out.” 

He corrected his chair right away. You couldn’t help but smile at the interaction. “It is kinda intense. But I love it. Keeps me on my toes,” came your reply. 

“Can’t take the storm chaser outta the girl, huh?” He hummed, catching your eye with a knowing look. 

He was right. Although you’d stopped chasing storms, you still did just that, except it was from a much safer distance this time, through a set of screens. There was no chance of those around you dying grisly deaths brought on by a wicked twister. 

“Guess not,” you finally agreed. 

Before the conversation could continue, Amy happily interrupted, flouncing up to the table to set down a handful of dessert plates. “Gramma made your favorite, Uncle Rhett,” she announced, beaming at him. 

He grinned, pulling her into his side as she squealed. “Did she?” He asked, laughter in his tone as he jabbed his fingers into her sides, while she laughed uncontrollably and tried to wriggle away from him. 

You watched the exchange, and your heart went warm in your chest. But you were also hit with a wave of sadness. This sweet little girl was growing up without a mother and father. These three people in this room were all she had in the world. 

“Y’alright?” Rhett’s voice jarred you, bringing you back to reality. You hadn’t realized that tears were making their way down your cheeks. 

“I…I’m fine,” you answered. 

“Alright, here’s some blackberry pie!” Cecilia’s voice rang across the kitchen, interrupting your moment of melancholy. But you were grateful for the distraction.  

The pie was cut, and everyone was given a slice, along with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and a cup of coffee. Conversation around the table shifted to Amy’s schooling, and she eagerly listed the number of weeks that were left of school. 

But you could feel Rhett’s eyes on you from across the table the entire time. The intensity of his gaze made you feel as if he could see right into your soul. That was how it had always been. Looking at him felt like staring into the sun, at times. So bright and beautiful, but impossible to stare at. 

That hadn’t changed, even years later. Same intense look. 

When dessert was finished, Amy got up to help Cecilia clear the table. Royal headed upstairs to presumably get ready for bed. And Rhett stepped outside onto the front porch. 

“Can I at least help you clean up for the night, Cece?” You asked, hoping to do something, anything to feel useful. 

“Don’t you lift a finger. Amy and I have got it.” 

“You sure?”

“‘Course I’m sure,” the woman insisted. Then, “Have you given any thought as to if you might stay here?”

You hesitated. “Oh, I, uh…I don’t know. I really don’t want to be a bother.”

She huffed, shaking her head. “I already told ya at the store, it’s no bother! ‘Sides, it’s gonna be dark soon, and it gets so pitch black out here, drivin’ into town isn’t safe. And if you stay, you’d be wakin’ up to a home-cooked breakfast in the mornin’.”

With a sigh, you finally relented. Mostly because you were too tired to argue with her. “You drive a hard bargain. Fine, I’ll stay.” It was a good thing you hadn’t taken your luggage out of the car yet. 

Cecilia beamed. “Then it’s settled.”

“I’ll just go get my stuff from the car,” you remarked, already turning to put your shoes back on. 

“Have Rhett help you. I think he just stepped out onto the porch,” she suggested. 

With a nod, you made your way out the door, hinges squeaking as you stepped onto the porch, shoes thudding lightly against weather-worn wood. 

Sure enough, Rhett was there, seated on the bench near the door. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and he was leaning back, eyes fixed on the sky. 

When you came out, his gaze shifted to you, and he smiled softly. “Hey,” he said, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Hey.” An awkward silence soon followed. There was so much hanging in the air between you both. Words left unsaid. “Your momma asked me to stay the night.”

He hummed, nodding as he looked back out across the sprawling land that was the Abbott farm. “Figured she would. Her and that bleedin’ heart of hers.”

“She suckered me into it with the promise of a home cooked breakfast.”

He scoffed playfully. “You get a home cooked breakfast and I get a piece of fuckin’ toast.”

“I’ll share with you.”

His smile turned into a grin. Then he fell serious. “Speakin’ of sharing, you can sleep in my room.”

At that, you shook your head. “Oh no, that’s asking too much. Isn’t there a pull-out bed in the living room couch? I can sleep there instead. It’s where I used to sleep when I’d stay over, remember?”

“Boy, do I,” he hummed. When you were teenagers, Cecilia was insistent that you did not share a bed if you stayed the night. You’d sleep on the pull-out bed in the living room, far away from Rhett’s bedroom upstairs. It didn’t stop him from sneaking down to talk to you in the middle of the night, though. 

He continued, “But ya already served your time on that old couch. I’ll sleep there. My bed’s all yours.”

“Rhett—”

“Hey now, don’t argue with me. We both know I always win ‘em anyway.” 

You rolled your eyes, folding your arms over your chest as you shook your head. He was right, after all. He’d always win you over with kisses dispersed all over your face until you relented with laughter. 

“Fine. I’ll take your room then,” you replied. 

He hummed in satisfaction, and silence fell between you again. It felt so strange, being back in his presence. You felt as if you didn’t belong here, on this porch with him in the late spring night. In your anxious imaginations, you had always assumed he’d never reconcile with you, so you never tried to reach out and make things right. 

But all it had taken was one tearful conversation, and a sense of civility had been restored between you. 

“Why did you forgive me so easily?” Came your question, spoken into the quiet air that hummed with the sounds of nocturnal creatures. 

Rhett eyes flickered to you. “Because I spent too long wallowin’ in hurt, and I couldn’t handle carryin’ all of it anymore. I don’t wanna be stuck in the past. I want to move forward. Forgivin’ you is the best way to do that.” Then he added, “plus, I never could stay mad at you. Guess that still holds true to this day.”

Tears welled in your eyes again as you digested his words. You hated that you’d caused him so much pain. If only you’d been able to work through your grief instead of running from it. But that was in the past. There was nothing you could do to change it. However, you could use it to be a better person in the future. 

“I’m sorry I—”

But he held up his hand. “Don’t need to ‘pologize again,” he assured you, gentleness in his tone. 

You closed your mouth and nodded, and then you decided to take a seat next to him. Several minutes of silence passed again. Again, you were the one to break it. 

“I’m glad I decided to come tonight. I almost didn’t take your ma up on it.”

“I’m glad y’ did too.” He turned his body toward you so he could look into your face. “Six years is a long time.”

“It really is. I can’t believe it’s been that long. And Amy…she’s gotten so big.”

“She has. That little girl’s the apple of Mom and Dad’s eye, I’ll tell you what.”

You couldn’t help but smile fondly. “Looks like she’s the apple of yours, too.”

Rhett made a noise of agreement. “I see ‘em in her. Bec and Perry, that is. She’s a bit of a firecracker. Takes after her dad in that way. But she’s smart as a whip, we’re talkin’ wicked smart, like her momma. And some of the things she says, the tone she says them in…god, it sounds just like Bec.”

“It must be so cool to see them live on in her like that,” you whispered. 

“It is. But it’s hard, too. Thinkin’ about the way things would be if they were still here.”

“Does she remember them?”

He shrugged, shifting his gaze to the night sky above you, shimmering with stars. “Bits an’ pieces. She doesn’t remember whole details. Plus she was so small…I don’t rightly know what she pictures in her head when she talks about it.”

Your heart broke for the girl. “Poor thing.”

Rhett nodded his head. “I know. But she’s doin’ alright. Brings a lotta joy into our lives.” Even in the dim light, you could see the way his eyes sparkled with love. Family had always been so important to him. Even more so now that he’d lost part of it. 

You had to swallow the urge to cry. “That’s good.”

A beat passed before Rhett changed the subject, eager to move on to lighter conversation. “So…weather analyst, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows. 

That drew a shy smile out of you. “It’s no big thing. I have a whole team of people who work with me.”

“It’s a pretty damn big deal to me. You an’ that smart brain of yours. It’s no wonder you want on to work for the fuckin’ National Weather Service.”

At his compliment, you ducked your head, a little embarrassed. “I really like the job. It’s kinda stressful, though. Weather never takes a break like us human beings do.”

“You’re tellin’ me. You shoulda seen the storms that rolled through here last week. One right after another.”

That prompted you to ask the question you’d been dying to know the answer to all night. “Your mom said you’re still chasing.”

Rhett nodded his head as he shifted against the bench, wood creaking beneath his weight. “Yeah. It ain’t just me, either. I’ve got a whole team workin’ with me.”

Your gaze fell to your lap, where your hands were loosely clasped. “Was it…was it hard getting back to it, after they died?” You softly questioned. That was why you’d never gone back to storm chasing. You couldn’t bear the thought of doing so after all you'd lost. 

“Sure was. I didn’t start back up until a year later. That first time I got back out there…man, I almost couldn’t do it. I just kept thinkin’ of them. But then it sorta turned into a way to honor them an’ keep their memory alive. So I’ve been doin’ it ever since.”

“That’s good you were able to get back into it.”

“How ‘bout you? Been out there runnin’ after any storms lately?”

“No,” you answered quickly. The thought made your stomach turn. 

“Y’ should join us next time it storms,” came his suggestion. 

“I’d rather not.” You were hoping he would drop it. 

“C’mon, it’ll be like old times.”

“I don’t want it to be like old times. We lost three of our best friends during old times. I can’t…I can’t face another tornado. I’m scared to death of them now. I’ll never storm chase ever again.” You were on the verge of tears.

He got the message then. “Alright, fair enough. Didn’t mean to upset ya.”

You sighed, shoulders dropping. “You didn’t upset me. It’s just more of a sore subject than I realized,” you said. Then, “and now that I’m back here, I’m so scared more twisters will come through.”

Rhett understood where you were coming from. But he also believed in facing one’s fears. For the most part, at least. There were still some things that filled him with fear that he couldn’t bear to face. 

“More will definitely come. They ain’t been that bad this season so far. Last week was rough though. Had a couple EF3s that hit some neighborin’ towns. We’ve been helpin’ out a lot. The team I’m workin’ with…they’re big into charity. We’ve been able to donate to people who lost their homes. We’re hopin’ to raise enough money to get building supplies that can help rebuild all the damaged homes.”

You raised a brow, surprised. Not over the fact that Rhett wanted to help people in surrounding communities, but over the fact that his team had done so much. That was more than you’d ever been able to do when you were chasing with Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. 

“That’s really amazing,” you remarked. 

“Yeah. Hate seein’ the damage twisters can do, but I’m glad we can at least do somethin’ to help, even if it’s small.”

You had so many more questions about his storm chasing. But you also wanted to change the subject. Your heart was heavy from the old memories going through your mind. So, you asked about another thing that was part of the past.

“Did you ever go back to bull riding?”

Rhett let out a sharp breath, suddenly finding a small tear in his jeans very interesting, fingers sliding over the work fabric. “Hell no.”

“I always wondered about that. If you’d gone back to it after I left.”

“Nah. Never could stomach the thought of gettin’ back on one of them beasts.”

“Yet you’ll chase twisters with no problem.”

“That’s different.”

“How? Both could kill you.”

Rhett didn’t have an answer for that. But he did know he never wanted to experience what he’d been through in that arena all those years ago. 

It happened before you’d started storm chasing together. He was gunning for a career in pro bull riding, and he was headed toward the top. He had it all. Until it came crashing down one night when he suffered a life-threatening injury when he didn’t get out of the way of an angry bull fast enough. 

You’d never forget that night. And neither would he. You’d been volunteering at the rodeo. You were certified in first aid, and you were able to work alongside the on-site medics tending to riders with injuries, so you had access to the riders-only area. 

But what Rhett suffered was no minor injury. The bull’s horn caught him right beneath the hem of his protective vest, impaling the soft flesh of his lower abdomen. You remembered so vividly the way you’d cried out his name. The way he’d been carried out on a stretcher. 

You remembered tearing his vest off of him and seeing blood. So much blood. You remembered pressing your hands to the wound in an effort to slow the bleeding as he grew pale beneath you. You remembered begging him to hold on, assuring him that help was on the way. 

You almost lost him that night. 

The injury scared the hell out of him. It required surgery to repair the internal damage, and it took him out of riding for months. And by the time the doctor cleared him to ride again, he knew he couldn’t. Not after he’d stared death in the face. 

He had a permanent scar on his abdomen, a reminder of what he had endured. 

Rhett never wanted to experience that again. So he hung up his riding vest for good. But he was still a thrill seeker. And when you expressed an interest in storm chasing, he’d eagerly agreed, because it gave him a chance to feel alive again, just like he always felt when he was sitting on the back of a raging bull. 

Now you had traded places. He was too afraid to mount another bull. You were too afraid to go after another twister. It seemed that you had more in common than you realized.

“Guess we’re both scared of something,” you remarked, wrapping your arms around yourself as the evening chill crept up on you like the chilled fingers of a ghost touching your skin. 

“Guess so,” Rhett agreed.

Your conversation fell stagnant, and you found yourself growing sleepy. You had only just arrived back in Oklahoma that morning, and the night before, you hadn’t slept well. The exhaustion was beginning to catch up with you. 

“I should probably turn in before I fall asleep out here,” you mumbled, followed by a yawn. 

Rhett made a sound deep in his throat before he rolled his neck, joints cracking. “I’ll help ya with your stuff,” he offered as he stood. 

You followed suit, motioning to your car. The two of you headed down the porch steps, where you popped the trunk, revealing your luggage. You watched as Rhett heaved the bags out of the car, his forearms and biceps bulging beneath the rolled sleeves of his shirt. 

You were reminded that he was still just as strong as ever. Lifting your suitcases hardly took that much strength, you knew, but Rhett was a farm boy. He’d been strong his entire life, thanks to lifting bales of hay and performing other tasks of manual labor. When he was riding bulls, his core and leg strength had been excellent. Those strong thighs of his allowed him to hold tightly to those raging animals. 

He’d taken on some size since you’d seen him six years ago. His shoulders were more broad. His arms were bigger. His thighs were meatier. Or maybe his jeans were simply too tight, hugging the curve of his quad muscles.

In the kitchen, you hadn’t fully admired him. But here, beneath the night sky, illuminated by the glow of the porch light, you saw him. His stubbled jaw, his twinkling eyes, his small pink mouth the button nose you’d always loved. 

You remembered teasing him and telling him he had an elfin nose, that he had inherited it from a mystical creature. You had adored the way his ears would turn red whenever you said it.

Oh, how things had changed. There had been a time when you couldn’t picture your life without him. And now, you’d been without him for so long that you’d forgotten what it felt like to love and be loved by him.

“Y’alright?” Rhett’s voice jarred you, and you shook yourself out of your reverie.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry. Just sorta zoned out.”

The knowing look in his eye told you he’d caught on to the fact that you were staring at him.

“C’mon, I’ll take you upstairs.” With that, he slammed your trunk shut and gathered your bags again before he headed toward the house.

You trailed after him, closing and locking the front door behind you, assuming everyone was in for the night. Then you ascended the stairs, allowing Rhett to lead you down the hall, all the way to the end, where his room was.

He nudged the partially open door with his foot, and stepped into the dark confines, depositing your luggage onto the bed before he bent to turn on the bedside lamp. You were met with the sight of a surprisingly neat bedroom.

The times you’d been here in the past, his room had never been terribly messy, but random clutter would accumulate in different corners. He was never really the type to make his bed either, because he always said, “I’m gon’ sleep in it again, so why bother?”

But now, the bed was neatly made, and hardly any clutter hid in the corners. 

“I ain’t been stayin’ here much, so it stays pretty neat,” he explained, as if reading your mind. 

“Too busy storm chasing?” You asked.

“Yeah. Stay in a lotta motels when I’m on the road.”

You sauntered into the room, taking in the coziness of it all. Hardly anything had changed. His plaid bedspread was the same. His curtains still matched the bedding. Art pieces of cowboys riding bulls decorated the walls. A picture of Lane Frost hung just above his desk.

A sense of nostalgia washed over you. Being in this room felt like coming home.

“Welp…guess I’ll, uh, let you get to bed,” Rhett murmured. He paused in the doorway, as if he wanted to say something. “I’m glad you’re back, by the way.”

That brought a smile to your face. “I am, too.”

He rapped his knuckles against the door frame. “Anyway, ‘night.”

“Goodnight.”

He reached out to pull the door shut, leaving you in silence, alone for the first time since you had arrived at the house. You let out a breath, and lowered down to sit on the edge of the bed, allowing yourself to process everything.  

Your arms splayed out on either side of you, palms skimming over the softness of the bed. You closed your eyes, and allowed the memories to wash over you. It was here, in this very bed, that you had lost your virginity to each other. You were young and in love and driven by your passion for one another.

Many times after that, you had made love in this room. And as you closed your eyes, it was as if you were reliving those memories. The feeling of his mouth on yours, and his hands on your heated skin. The way he would moan your name into your mouth when you shifted your hips against his own, searching for delicious friction, so eager to have him inside you.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were struck with a feeling of emptiness. How long had it been since you’d been with anyone in such an intimate way? Your job hardly left you time for romantic relationships. You hadn’t really put yourself out there, because you knew your busy career would likely deter anyone who wanted any sort of future with you.

As you readied yourself for bed, you thought about how alone you had felt these last few years. Alone in your grief. In your pain. At least Rhett had his parents to lean on as they endured the loss. You had no one who truly understood. 

Silver Spring was a perfectly nice community to live in, and you had made some good friends during your time there. But nothing compared to the community you once had here in Wabang. No one compared to Lydia, your dearest friend. Your bond had been a sisterly one. You were kindred spirits. You’d never been able to find that again in any of the friends you made in your current home city.

But now that you were back in Oklahoma, the sense of familiarity was nearly overwhelming. You were home. Even if you didn’t realize it yet.

That night, you got the best sleep you’d gotten in a long time. Rhett’s bed was comfortable, and the house was quiet. All that could be heard outside was the distant howl of a coyote, and the sounds of nightlife creeping about.

When you woke the next morning, it was to the sound of a rooster crowing. You lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, relishing in the feeling of being rested. Your body didn’t ache. Your head wasn’t swimming with tiredness. You were at peace, which was something you hadn’t felt in ages.

You could hear the sound of the Abbotts milling about the house. Cecilia was likely in the kitchen starting breakfast. Royal was probably already outside, getting a head start on the day’s chores. Rhett, too, who’d always been responsible for checking on the animals and making sure they were fed.

Not wanting to walk out in your tank top and sleep shorts, you were quick to throw on some clean clothes before you headed across the hall to the bathroom to wash your face and make yourself look somewhat presentable.

When you finally made your way downstairs, you were hit with the smell of food cooking. The coffee pot hissed and sputtered in the corner, nearly finished with its brew cycle. Amy sat at the table, doodling in a notebook. When she saw you, her face lit up.

“Mornin’! I was wondering when you’d come down! You slept for a super long time.”

“Amy,” Cecilia cautioned.

“It’s okay,” you assured her, before turning to Amy, “I needed the rest.”

“Well you came down just in time! Gramma’s making pancakes.”

“Sounds good!” Came your response, as you moved to grab a glass from the cupboard to fill with water. Your mouth felt parched.

“How’d you sleep, hon?” Cecilia asked as she stirred a bowl of pancake batter.

“Like a baby,” you said, bringing your glass to your lips to take a sip. You watched as she poured the batter onto a hot skillet, bubbling with melted butter. “Just so you know, I don’t expect you to make breakfast for me every day. I know you only make big breakfasts on Saturdays and Sundays, I don’t expect pancakes and eggs and bacon every day of the week.”

It was Thursday, so it wasn’t a typical day for her to make breakfast for the family. The weekday mornings were always called “fend for yourself” mornings, where the family was responsible for preparing their own respective breakfasts.

“Nonsense! I’m happy to do it, you need fuel if you’re gonna be cleanin’ that house all day,” she insisted.

You smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Really, it means a lot.”

She ushered you to the table, assuring you breakfast would be ready momentarily. You chatted with Amy once you settled into your seat, and just as breakfast was being put on the table, the screen door squealed open, and in stepped Royal, lifting his hat off his head and placing it on the peg on the wall.

He greeted you, nodding in your direction. “Mornin’,” he said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Cecilia placed a cup of black coffee beside his plate, and he thanked her with a wordless hum. Typical morning small talk followed as everyone began filling their plates. But the quiet chatter was soon interrupted by the screen door opening again.

Rhett hurried into the kitchen, boots scraping against the floor as he made a beeline for the table. You could see a wildness in his eyes, and it made your heart rate quicken. Your gaze flickered to the kitchen window, where you could see distant gray clouds. 

“Gotta take breakfast to go, storm’s brewin’ over in Cimarron County,” he announced as he reached over Amy’s head to grab a pancake. He shoved a few pieces of bacon inside and folded it up like a taco. “Team’s on the way here to meet me.”

“Please be careful!” Cecilia called after him as he turned on his heel to head back to the door. 

He grabbed a backpack that was sitting on the bench in the entryway, presumably packed with necessities. “Always am, Ma,” he replied. Then he looked at you, his hand hovering over the doorknob. “You wanna come?” Hope was in his tone.

His offer shocked you. You certainly didn’t expect it, not after what you had told him last night. “No, I…I’ll stay here,” you answered.

“Alright, see ya soon!” And with that, he was off, door slamming shut behind him.

You weren’t sure what drove you to do so, but you found yourself surging up from your seat, feet carrying you quickly to the door. You flung it open and rushed out onto the porch. “Rhett!” You called. 

Midway to his truck, he stopped, whirling around. “Yeah?”

“Be safe!” He’d just come back into your life. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

His face softened, and he smiled. “I will be. I promise.” Then he turned and continued on to his truck. Still that old GMC Sierra with the light bar on top. It had been blown off the road during the twister you’d narrowly escaped, but somehow, the truck was perfectly fine, and just needed a few repairs to render it driveable again.

Seeing that it had survived after all this time gave you hope that Rhett would make it back safely home again. 

He was gone for three days. You learned of his well-being through Cecilia. He would always text her after a storm passed to assure her he was okay. He was so good about giving her peace of mind. 

In his absence, you busied yourself with sorting through the overwhelming clutter in your great-aunt’s house. It provided a distraction from your worry. 

Living in Silver Spring, you’d had no cause to worry about Rhett. He crossed your mind often, yes, but you had no idea he was still storm chasing, and therefore remained blissfully ignorant. 

Now that you were back home, all those old memories had resurfaced, and you were forced to face the fact that you still cared deeply for Rhett. The thought of him dying out there made your stomach turn. 

At least when you’d been chasing with him, you were together, and he would die by your side if something did happen. Being apart from him now, you had no idea if he was okay or not, aside from updates from his mother. 

You were forced to come to terms with your feelings. Why did you feel so strongly about this? Yes, you cared about what happened to him, just as anyone else in his life did. But there was something more. 

You realized that perhaps you were still in love with him. 

However, you buried that realization deep. You couldn’t rekindle your romance with him. You had moved on, made a life for yourself, had a career you loved. You needed to leave your relationship with him in the past, and move forward with only a friendship between the two of you. 

Easy as pie, right? 

You hoped so. 

Three days later, just as you were arriving back on the Abbott farm after a long day of cleaning and organizing, Rhett returned. 

Relief washed over you from head to toe when you saw that old Sierra coming down the driveway. But he wasn’t alone. You could make out the silhouette of a woman sitting in the passenger seat. Behind the truck, a Ford F150 followed closely behind, and beyond that, an old RV. 

So this was the team he’d been talking about. 

Your gut fluttered at the sudden anxiety of meeting new people. You knew you looked worse for wear in your cleaning clothes. You’d been sweating all day, and you were planning on heading straight for the shower when you got into the house. 

But it would be rude to just turn and go inside, so you stayed put, waiting until all the vehicles came to a stop. 

Rhett jumped out first, slamming the truck door shut behind him. He was wearing his hat, and he was grinning. “Made it back in one piece,” he assured you. 

You couldn’t help but smile in return. “I can see that,” came your answer. 

Your eyes flickered beyond him as the woman in the passenger seat climbed out. She was beautiful, in the most natural of ways. No makeup adorned her face. Her eyes were large, the deepest shade of brown you’d ever seen. Her hair, a deep chestnut color, was curly and unkempt, pulled back into a ponytail. 

Her deep brown skin glimmered with perspiration. You could hazard a guess that the air conditioning in Rhett’s truck was broken. It always had been finicky. 

“Hi,” she spoke, reaching out her hand to shake yours, “I’m Zara Marshall. Nice to finally meet you! Rhett told me all about you.” Then she added, “good things, of course!”

“Nice to meet you, too. I didn’t realize you all were coming. I would’ve at least tried to look presentable.”

“Oh, you look beautiful, don’t even worry about that.” She blew a stray curl out of her face. 

“Zara here is the genius behind all our chases,” Rhett boasted. 

The woman looked at him and beamed, shaking her head. “Oh, hush. I’m no genius.”

An odd feeling blossomed to life in your chest as you watched their banter. The easy way they interacted. It wasn’t jealousy, was it? It couldn’t be. You had no right to be jealous. Not after you were the one that left him six years ago. 

Your moment of distaste was interrupted by the sound of car doors opening and closing. The rest of the team was getting out of their vehicles, clearly eager to stretch their legs after driving for so long. 

“You have to meet my wife!” Zara exclaimed. 

Oh. 

How silly of you to entertain the thought of jealousy when the woman wasn’t even interested in Rhett. 

Another woman came rushing over to the three of you, tall and lean, shoulder-length brown hair hanging loosely against the middle of her back, Tattoos decorated different parts of her body. Mostly her hands and wrists, and a few on her neck. When she smiled at you, it was warm like sunlight. 

“Hi!” She said, “I’m Jeslyn.”

You shook her hand and told her your name. Then you were quickly introduced to everyone else. 

There was Finn, handsome as could be, with bright green eyes and auburn hair. And then there was Danny, with eyes that were just a little less blue than Rhett’s, and graying curls that fell against his forehead. He couldn’t have been older than his early thirties, but he was already going gray. It suited him.

They were all so personable, and their welcome was warm. It made you feel at ease instantly. You should have known the people who chose to associate with Rhett were good people.

You learned that they were all staying for dinner, per Cecilia’s insistence. It was a flurry of organized chaos as everyone offered to help set up the tables outside, rather than crowding in the small kitchen to eat. 

While they were busy with that, you slipped away to take a quick shower, eager to wash the sweat and grime off of your body. 

You turned the water as hot as you could stand, stepping under the spray and closing your eyes. You hadn’t expected to be so exhausted. Your shoulders and arms ached from scrubbing and heavy lifting. Your legs were sore too. 

The steamy water helped loosen your tight muscles considerably, and once you were finished, you breathed out a sigh of satisfaction. Now you felt a little more prepared to face a dinner table full of people. 

But when you stepped out of the shower, you realized that you had forgotten something very important. A towel. Swearing under your breath, you stood in the middle of the bathroom for a moment, debating what you should do.

The linen closet was right across the hall. If you could sneak out there unseen, you’d be able to grab a towel and slip right back into the bathroom unnoticed. So, you cautiously opened the bathroom door and made sure the coast was clear before you dashed for the closet, yanking the door open and scanning for a towel.

To your horror, the sound of footsteps approaching could be heard, and you gasped, reaching for your towel, but you weren’t fast enough. A split second later, Rhett appeared at the top of the steps.

He froze, eyes widening, as you let out a squeak of surprise. Out of respect for you, he quickly turned away. “Shit, sorry!” He apologized.

Wordlessly, you clutched your towel and scurried away, slamming the bathroom door shut. On the steps, Rhett let out a breath, and he couldn’t help but shake his head. He hadn’t seen you naked in years. Of course the first time would end up being an awkward moment like the one you’d both just been subjected to.

He hadn’t seen much, in his haste to give you privacy. But he’d seen enough to make his brain short-circuit for a moment. Mentally, he scolded himself, but he knew, now that he’d seen you in that way, he wouldn’t be able to get it out of his head. Especially because there had been a time when he knew your body, inside and out. He’d had you in the most intimate of ways. And that was something he would never forget.

“Get it the fuck t’gether,” he grumbled to himself as he turned back around, heading toward his room, where he wanted to grab a clean shirt before you came back. He simply couldn’t entertain thoughts about you naked. It would do him no good. 

He shook the encounter off, and quickly changed his shirt, tossing the old one in the hamper. He stopped to glance in the mirror that hung above his dresser, running his hand haphazardly through his hair, which was slightly tousled from all the activity of the day. 

Then, quick as he came, he strolled out of his room and back down the steps before you ever stepped out of the bathroom again. 

Meanwhile, you were hurriedly going about your post-shower routine, your mind spinning. You knew you were making this into a bigger deal than it needed to be. Perhaps you should be grateful it was only Rhett, who’d seen you naked many times before, rather than his parents or Amy. 

But you still had an odd feeling swirling to life in your gut, a feeling that you didn’t want to face, because if you did, that would mean admitting you’d never gotten over Rhett. 

You pushed it down again. Choosing to deny, deny, deny. It would simply go away if you didn’t acknowledge it. 

With that, you headed out of the bathroom and back into Rhett’s bedroom, where you set your shower items down and made sure to hang your towel on the hook mounted on the back of the door. 

Then, with a deep breath for courage, you made your way downstairs. 

There was a flurry of activity happening. Cecilia was prepping Sunday dinner, while Zara and Jeslyn were gathering plates and silverware to set the table outside. Danny, Finn, and Rhett were carrying chairs outside.

Royal and Amy were in the living room, where she was very intently watching him whittle a figurine out of wood. Cecilia had likely shooed them out of the kitchen because there were enough people in the way as it was. 

For a moment, you stood there, in the middle of the house, taking in the sights and sounds, and it transported you back to the past. Sunday dinners with the Abbotts were always your favorite. Lydia and her family would join, and everyone would eat outside, weather permitting, just like they were going to do today. 

Many a good time was had around the large oak table that Rhett had built with his own hands when he was in high school, in woodworking class. One of the of the few classes he thrived in. The craftsmanship was beautiful, and it was still in good condition to this day. 

“Hey, y’alright?” Rhett’s low cadence filled your ears. You looked up to find him standing near, gaze soft. 

“I…yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him, “just reminiscing.”

He nodded. “Mm. Sure this brings back a lotta memories for you.”

“It does,” you agreed. 

He lingered for a moment. Then, with the lowering of his voice, he said, “I, uh, I’m sorry about earlier. Didn’t mean to walk in on ya like that.”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head. “No, don’t worry about it. It’s no big deal.”

“Good. That’s good.” He let his hands rest upon his hips, grimacing at the awkward silence that followed. 

“Guess I’d better see if your mom needs help,” you finally volunteered. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. I’m gon’ make sure the guys set up the table right.” He took a few steps backward before he turned and sauntered out the door. 

You breathed out a sigh, mentally berating yourself for the awkwardness. You hoped it wouldn’t linger for the rest of the day. 

Thankfully, it did not. Once dinner was ready and everyone was gathered around the table, the atmosphere melted into one of warmth and laughter. You didn’t feel like an outsider. The group of friends treated you like one of your own, and it did wonders to put you at ease. 

“I thought you’d like t’ hear this,” Rhett’s voice caught your attention from across the table. “Zara here’s workin’ on a way to stop twisters dead in their tracks.”

That definitely piqued your interest. You looked at her, where she sat between Rhett and Jeslyn. “Really? How do you plan to stop them?” You asked her, leaning forward in your seat. 

Tornadoes were impossible to stop. To your knowledge, no one had succeeded in doing so before. They were so unpredictable, one couldn’t possibly figure out when and where one was going to touch down fast enough to stop it. 

She sprang into her explanation. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s never been done before. But Jes and I have spent years coming up with a solution. There’s a lot of heat and moisture at the center of a twister. My theory is if you can cool down the center to the freezing point, you can stop the twister.”

You stared at her, eyes widening. There was no way it could work. Was there? “How would you cool it down?”

“Essentially, we release liquid nitrogen into the core of the tornado and it brings the temp way down.”

“Have you tested it out yet?” You inquired. You were still skeptical, but fascinated at the same time. 

Beside her, Jeslyn piped up. “We started small scale tests when we were still students at OU. Me, Zara, and some classmates built this machine that uses heat and moisture to simulate a tornado. Our nitrogen tests worked on it, but seeing as that was only a small, contained event…”

“You’d need a lot more nitrogen for the real thing,” you finished for her. 

“Yep.”

Zara continued where Jeslyn left off. “During the run we did this week, we decided to actually test it out and see if we could stop a twister. But…it failed miserably.” She laughed ruefully, and the rest of the team joined her, reliving the memory. 

You were struck with an odd feeling. Fear of missing out, maybe. Which shocked you, because you’d refused to go on the chase in the first place, because you couldn’t face your fears. Now you felt left out? It didn’t quite make sense to you. 

Maybe you did miss storm chasing, after all. 

“It’s hard to gauge how much nitrogen we need, especially because every tornado is different. We’ve been working on collecting as many tanks of nitrogen as we possibly can, but we also didn’t want to use up our whole reserve. We used half of it on what turned out to be an F3. Didn’t do shit,” Zara continued to explain, motioning animatedly with her hands as she spoke. Her face was incredibly expressive. 

You decided you really liked her. You could understand why Rhett enjoyed chasing with her. 

“So, how does that work? Like, do you set tanks of nitrogen on the ground and then open them and hope for the best, or?” You had so many questions, and you simply couldn’t hide your fascination. 

“We use that,” Rhett said, pointing over at his truck parked in the driveway. Hitched to the back was an open trailer, with several tanks of liquid nitrogen situated inside, metal gleaming in the light of the setting sun. 

“But how do you open them? Does someone have to open each one before the twister hits?” You suddenly became very aware of everyone’s eyes on you, and you shrank slightly. “Sorry, I know I’m asking a lot of questions.”

“No, you’re good!” Zara insisted, “it’s just, we’re all used to people telling us we’re crazy instead of actually showing interest.”

“I told ya she’d think it was cool,” Rhett said to her with a smile. He caught your eye. He still knew you well, even though time had driven you apart. 

“Basically, opening the tanks is up to us,” Finn piped up from beside you, motioning to Danny, who sat on the other side of him. He took a swig of his water before he continued. “We made these special remote control valves. As long as we’re within range, we can open the valves with the touch of a button and release the nitrogen into the air.”

“Honestly, it sounds crazy. But also brilliant,” you said, completely in awe. “You gotta show me all the equipment after dinner. I’ve never heard of anyone doing this kinda thing before.”

Part of you still doubted what they were trying to do would ever work. It went against all odds. Even if they did succeed in stopping a tornado, the method wasn’t necessarily feasible for stopping others in the future. It would require countless tanks of nitrogen and a lot of manpower. 

But just to be able to say one had stopped a tornado was a feat in and of itself. You couldn’t hold it against Zara for trying. It was clear she was passionate about her work and believed there was a possibility that it could be successful. 

The conversation around the dinner table soon shifted to other things. You noticed that none of them asked you about your storm chasing past. You wondered how much Rhett had told them, and if he’d instructed them not to ask about the details, at risk of upsetting you. 

It was very considerate of him, if he had. 

After dinner, everyone helped clean up while Cecilia ushered Amy upstairs, against the girl’s protests. “You’ve got school in the mornin’, early bedtime isn’t optional!” Her grandmother insisted. 

But Amy had to make sure she said goodnight to everyone first before she made the reluctant trudge up the stairs. Oh, to have the innocence of a child again, unwilling to go to bed because all the adults were still awake.

The evening carried on, and once the dishes were washed and the table was cleared, you were led outside to see all the equipment Zara had told you about. And what a setup it was.

The trailer attached to the back of Rhett’s truck was full of nitrogen tanks, sealed with remote controlled valves. The trailer itself was also remote controlled, according to Rhett. 

“Come see,” he motioned for you to follow as he opened the driver’s side door. He pointed at the center console, where there was a board of switches, framed by labels indicating what each switch was for. “Danny and Finn helped get this up an’ running. If we need t’ let the trailer go, all I gotta do is press a button and it’ll release. S’how we get the tanks in the path of the twister.”

You stared in amazement at the device. “How? Like, how do you figure out when to release the trailer? And how does it not just get blown away?”

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Figured that one out too.”

He led you to the side of the trailer, where he pointed at a compartment positioned directly between the wheels. “Soon as I get the trailer in place, I flip a switch and stakes lower outta this compartment here and into the ground. Usually we’re cuttin’ it close, but I can get the truck positioned in the path of the twister. Then I get the trailer settled and get the hell outta Dodge.”

“Then I hit the remote control for the tanks and release the nitrogen into the air,” Finn piped up eagerly.

“Meanwhile, Zara and I are tracking the storm pattern and trying to figure out exactly when to release the trailer,” came Jeslyn’s explanation.

You stared at all the equipment in total wonder. These people had thought of everything. More than you or Rhett ever had when you were chasing. Your operation then had been very bare bones, and really, you were just following storms for the fun of it. 

But this? This was an entire science experiment, and it was fascinating. Despite your refusal to chase again, you were very curious about what all of this would look like in action. If Zara ever succeeded in stopping a twister, she would make history. 

That was something you almost wanted to be a part of. Almost. 

Later that night, you found yourself curled up in an Adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as everyone sat around the fire that Rhett had built in the old fire pit. The place held so many memories. Namely, the night Rhett had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was right here. 

He remembered that night, too. You could tell he was thinking about it when he caught your eye from across the fire. 

Around you, the group settled into comfortable conversation. The kind that happened when old friends got together. Anything and everything was discussed as the night gave way to inky darkness, the stars twinkling above, like glitter spilled across a black velvet canvas. 

Before she’d retired for the night, Cecilia had warmed some apple cider on the stove, and a mug of it was currently situated in your hands, its taste spicy and comforting. You enjoyed listening to Rhett’s friends tell stories of different storms they’d chased, reliving all the exciting times they’d had together.

You wondered if you would be running with them, too, had you stayed here instead of moving to Silver Springs and taking your weather analyst job. Would it just be you and Rhett, or would fate have still decided to bring these people into your life?

Their passion was admirable. Zara was a very driven individual, hellbent on making a difference. “If I could at least slow down a twister, even if it doesn’t fully stop it, think of all the lives we could save. That’s why I do all of this. I wanna protect people.”

That was just it, wasn’t it? Saving lives. You thought back to the fateful day you had lost Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. If you’d had a way of slowing down that twister, or even stopping it altogether, perhaps they would still be here.

But you couldn’t think that way, because it was already done. There was no way to go back in time and save them. 

The thought made your chest ache, and you had to swallow the wave of grief that rose in your throat. Rhett caught your eye over the flames, and shot you a reassuring look, almost as if he knew what you were thinking.

To your relief, the subject soon changed from storm chasing, and moved on to lighter things. 

“Hey, rodeo’s on Saturday. We were all thinking of going together. You should totally join us!” Jeslyn suggested, nodding in your direction. 

“Yeah, you should!” Finn agreed.

That piqued your interest. “Sure, I’ll still be in town, so why not?” You hadn’t been to a rodeo in so long. Not since Rhett’s last ride, which had ended in disaster.

Jeslyn grinned over her mug of cider. “Great! We’re gonna have so much fun. We’ll take care of your ticket, so you don’t have to worry about it.” 

You raised a brow in surprise. “Really? You don’t have to do that.”

Everyone protested at once, insisting that they wanted the rodeo ticket to be their treat. You were touched at their generosity, and accepted the offer gratefully. Might as well make the most of your time in Wabang.

Soon, it was time for the group to disperse and head in their own respective ways. Rhett threw some sand over the dying embers, while everyone else folded up their chairs to store back in the barn. As you walked the group back to their cars, Zara turned to you, her face kind.

“I know you’ve got your reasons for choosing not to chase, I want you to know the invitation for you to join us is open, in case you ever change your mind,” she told you. 

You weren’t entirely sure what came over you then. Maybe it was your desire to make a difference. Maybe you were just foolish. But for whatever reason, you were emboldened enough to say, “y’know what? I’ve got a proposition.” You stole a glance at Rhett to make sure he was listening. “I’ll go on a chase with you guys if Rhett agrees to ride at next weekend’s rodeo.”

You knew Rhett. He had a competitive nature. He was going to say yes. Everyone’s eyes landed on him, awaiting his answer.

“Shoo-ee, you gonna accept that challenge, Rhett?” Danny asked with a grin, fully invested.

Beside you, Rhett grimaced. “Ain’t no way they’ll let me in the ring,” he protested.

“Does Beau still oversee the bull riding contestants?” You inquired.

You and Rhett both knew that Beau would agree to letting him ride, because only Beau Wilson was crazy enough to allow such a thing. 

“Yeah,” Rhett answered your question. He was well aware of the direction this was going.

“Then I’ll go talk to him. He’ll get you a spot in the ring. If you can handle it, that is.” You gave him a pointed look. 

“I can handle it, darlin’.” Despite the determination in his tone, the nickname settled over you like a warm embrace. He hadn’t called you that in so long. “So if I do this, you swear you’ll go on a run with us?”

“Pinky swear.” You held your hand out, pinky up.

Rhett eyed your hand for a moment before he linked his pinky finger with yours. “Fine. You got yourself a deal.”

Finn and Danny whooped in excitement, while Zara and Jeslyn looked between you and Rhett, bewildered. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the one to get him back on a bull? We always say he should try riding again, but he always says no,” Zara explained. 

You looked at Rhett, and he ducked his head, hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck. You swore you saw his ears turn red. “Guess he just needed some friendly competition,” you replied.

Not long after, goodbyes were said, and the group parted ways, climbing into their vehicles and driving off, leaving you and Rhett standing there in the driveway. Immediately, you realized that your proposition was a bit preposterous. 

“Oh my god, if you don’t want to ride, you don’t have to. I don’t know why I said that, I just…”

But he waved his hand, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll do me some good to get back on a bull. Just like it’ll do you some good to face another twister. Might help us both process some shit,” he reasoned.

You let out a breath. “Maybe so.”

You both turned to walk toward the house, and he asked you a question as you went. “What made you change your mind?”

You paused, glancing down at your feet before you looked at him. “I dunno, all of Zara’s talk about saving lives…it got me thinking. It would be so cool if it could work. Imagine all the people she could save! She’s making a difference, and I want to be a part of that.” And then, “maybe if…if we had something like that six years ago, Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia would still be alive.”

Rhett’s boots crunched against dirt as he absently kicked a few pebbles out of the way. “Don’t go spiralin’ into the ‘what ifs’. Universe saw fit to take ‘em, so it did. No machine could’ve stopped it. Not that kinda twister.”

You studied his expression. “Do you believe in Zara’s project?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I do, but there ain’t no way it would stop an EF5 tornado. We’d be fucked if it hit us.”

“It’s still worth a try, though, isn’t it? If it works, and if she can get it going on a larger scale…she could save entire towns from being destroyed! Think of the history she’s going to make!”

Rhett’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “There she is.”

“What?”

“My storm chasin’ gal. You’re back.”

You shrugged. “I guess so. But just know this isn’t a permanent thing, ‘kay? I’m only going out there with you guys to see how Zara’s invention works. After that, I’m going back to Silver Springs. To my job, where I don’t have to live off of McDonald’s and Whataburger every day and stay in shitty motels while I wait for a twister to just fall out of the sky.”

He bit back his ever-widening grin, shaking his head. “Sure thing. I’m just glad you decided to face your fear, s’all.”

Facing your fear. That was what this was, wasn’t it? You knew that  if you could do this, it would show you that you were capable of moving past your grief that still felt crippling at times. But you couldn’t help but wonder; when staring into the face of a tornado, would you be able to stand your ground, or would you let your fear send you running like a frightened child?

You would soon find out. But you didn’t realize just how soon. 

-

taglist: tagging those who expressed interest or asked to be tagged (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @peachystenbrough @attapullman

@sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @fragilefearnie @floydsmuse

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@nobody7102 @mearslot @torturedpoetspsychward @floydsglasses @hearteyesforlewis

@shamelessghostwagonwobbler @cloudofbutterflies92 @keep-on-burnin @ravenmoore14 @queenbbarnes

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@frequentnosebleeder @atoncments @eolsens @casuallyclassless @desert-fern

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@callsignmedusa @antiquitea @ohmyeyesmyeyes @spidervman @oddlymighty-witch @dreams-in-anthracis

[sappho-rose]

sae is not amused (supposedly)

Bonus: rin lol

merch art used for inspo under cut:

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, prologue

wc. 2.3K

part 1 [soon!]

The day you had been dreading and anticipating in equal measure had finally come.

You stood in the hallway just outside Gojo Satoru’s classroom, your heart pounding against your ribcage so violently that you feared it might burst out.

In your trembling hand, you clutched a carefully folded letter and a small gift wrapped in delicate paper—a simple token of your feelings. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a box of handmade chocolates, but you had spent weeks perfecting the recipe, pouring your heart into every little detail. It wasn’t about the gift itself; it was about what it represented. For years, you had admired him from afar, suppressing the intense emotions that swirled inside of you every time his tall figure entered the room.

As a first-year student, Gojo had been your teacher, guiding you through the rough waters of cursed energy manipulation and domain expansions. But while your classmates bonded over training and shared experiences, you stayed in the shadows, too shy to interact openly. You did your best to make your presence known without drawing too much attention—helping out quietly, finishing assignments on time, offering assistance when you could—but it never felt like enough.

Gojo Satoru—he was everything you weren’t.

Charismatic, confident, powerful. He dominated every space he occupied with an effortless grace that drew people in. But with that allure came a sense of untouchability. He seemed so far out of reach, almost like he existed on a plane above everyone else. And maybe, in a way, he did. You were just a shy, soft-spoken student, fading into the background of his classes, your presence barely noticed among the others. Still, your feelings for him had grown, nurtured by stolen glances and fleeting interactions that meant the world to you but probably meant nothing to him.

So why, then, did you think today would be different? Why, after all these years, did you think this confession would make any difference? You didn’t know. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was the unbearable weight of the unspoken feelings that had piled up inside you. Or maybe it was the realization that if you didn’t do it now, you never would.

Your feet felt like lead as you took the last few steps toward the door. He was still inside, you knew that much. Through the small crack in the door, you could hear his unmistakable voice, lighthearted as ever, finishing up a conversation with one of the other instructors. Your fingers tightened around the letter, the edges of the paper crumpling slightly from the pressure. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself.

You’ve got this, you told yourself, even though you didn’t quite believe it.

When the conversation inside ended and you heard the other teacher leave, you knew it was your moment. Now or never. Summoning every ounce of courage you had, you pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Gojo was seated casually at his desk, his blindfold firmly in place, but you could still feel the intensity of his gaze shift toward you the moment you entered. His casual posture—leaned back in his chair with his legs crossed and arms behind his head—made him seem more like a student himself than a teacher. His white hair, always slightly messy, caught the fading afternoon light that streamed through the windows, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

He smiled as soon as he noticed you, his usual carefree grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Hey, kid. Need something?”

His words were simple, but the sound of his voice sent a jolt through you. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your nerves from bubbling over.

“I—uh, I wanted to give you something,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. You stepped closer, the distance between you and him feeling like an insurmountable chasm, even though it was only a few feet.

Gojo’s head tilted slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Oh? A gift for little old me? You shouldn’t have.”

There it was again—his easy charm, the way he could make anything sound playful. You wished it would ease your nerves, but it only made them worse.

You held out the small package, your hands trembling so much that you had to clasp them together to steady yourself. “I—I made these for you. And there’s… there’s a letter.”

For a moment, Gojo didn’t say anything, and the silence was deafening. Then, with a quick, fluid motion, he reached out and took the package from you, turning it over in his hands with mild interest.

“Oh? Chocolates?” he said, his voice still light. He didn’t open the box, though. Instead, his attention shifted to the folded letter. “And a letter, too? You’re spoiling me, aren’t you?”

You felt your face heat up, embarrassment flooding through you. This was it—the moment of truth. He was holding your heart in his hands, and you were waiting for his reaction. But what came next wasn’t what you had hoped for.

Gojo’s smile faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to send a cold wave of dread through you. He set the chocolates down on the desk, carefully placing the letter beside them, and then leaned back in his chair again. His expression didn’t change much, still light and casual, but there was something in his tone that made your stomach drop.

“Look, kid…” he began, rubbing the back of his neck as if searching for the right words. “I appreciate the thought, really. But—”

The “but” hung in the air like a death sentence.

“—this kind of thing isn’t really for me, you know?” He waved his hand dismissively. “I get gifts and letters all the time. It’s sweet of you, but… I’m not really looking for that kind of relationship with anyone right now.”

The world felt like it was collapsing around you. His words hit you like a punch to the gut, each one tearing apart the fragile hope you had built. He didn’t even open the letter. He didn’t even open the chocolates. The rejection was so casual, so nonchalant, as if your feelings didn’t matter at all.

“I—” You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. You didn’t know what to say. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as your chest tightened painfully.

Gojo, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stood up, his towering height making you feel even smaller. “Don’t take it personally, okay? It’s just the way things are. You’re a great student—one of the best, actually. But this…” He gestured to the gifts, “This isn’t necessary.”

You nodded stiffly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking down right there. “I… I understand,” you managed to whisper before quickly turning on your heel and walking out of the room.

The moment you were out of sight, your composure shattered. The tears that you had been holding back spilled over, hot and angry, as you rushed down the hallway. You didn’t stop until you reached a secluded corner of the school grounds, where no one could see your breakdown.

You had known this could happen. You had known it was a long shot. But knowing didn’t make the pain any less real. It hurt—deeply. The rejection sliced through you, leaving a hollow ache in your chest.

As you sat there, knees pulled up to your chest, you couldn’t help but feel utterly foolish. You had put yourself out there, given him a piece of your heart, and he had brushed it aside without a second thought. What were you thinking, falling for someone like him? He was untouchable, a world apart from you. And now, the one thing you had feared the most had come true—you had opened up, and in return, you had been broken.

And just like that, the brightness you once felt toward Gojo faded, replaced by something darker, heavier.

You were left wondering: what was the point of caring at all if this was how it always ended?

The days after Gojo’s rejection blurred together in a haze of numbness. You withdrew even further from your classmates, isolating yourself in the quiet corners of Jujutsu High where no one could ask questions. The pain sat in your chest like a weight, pressing down on you every time you thought about that moment—how he had taken your gift, glanced at your letter, and dismissed you so effortlessly. The memory played on a loop, driving you deeper into despair.

You tried to focus on your studies, throwing yourself into your lessons with na intensity that surprised even your teachers, but nothing filled the void. You had hoped that time would dull the sharp edges of rejection, but it only seemed to deepen the hollow feeling inside. Not even cursed energy training, which used to be your escape, could pull you from the dark thoughts that consumed you.

In na attempt to distract yourself, you buried yourself in your extracurricular duties at the school library. It was one of the few places you could be alone, surrounded by shelves of ancient texts and scrolls that stretched back hundreds of years. There was something calming about the stillness of the library—the way the dust particles danced in the beams of light that filtered through the tall windows, the faint rustle of pages turning, the smell of old parchment. It gave you a sense of control, even if only for a moment.

Today was no different. You sat on the floor between two towering shelves, sorting through a pile of old records and files that had been neglected for years. Most of them were mundane—notes on previous missions, reports on cursed spirits, students’ academic progress—but then, buried near the bottom of the pile, you found something that made you pause.

The name on the folder caught your eye immediately: Geto Suguru.

You’d heard whispers about him before, of course. Everyone at Jujutsu High knew about Suguru —the former sorcerer who had gone rogue, Gojo’s best friend turned enemy.

He had once been one of the most promising students at the school, admired by many for his strength and intellect, until he had betrayed them all. No one really talked about him anymore, and his name had become almost a taboo subject among the faculty and students.

Curiosity tugged at you as you carefully opened the folder, your fingers trembling slightly as you flipped through the yellowed pages. The file was extensive, filled with reports about his abilities, his missions, and the events that led to his defection. But it wasn’t the dry reports that grabbed your attention—it was the snippets of Geto’s own words, written in notes from his interrogations, that struck a chord.

“Non-sorcerers are nothing but a burden on this world. The strong should not have to bend to the weak. Why protect those who cannot protect themselves?”

You read the words again, letting them sink in. There was an anger there, a bitterness that you understood all too well. The more you read, the more Geto’s disillusionment with the world began to make sense to you. His resentment, his desire to reshape the world where only those with power mattered—it resonated with the dark thoughts you had been grappling with since your rejection.

For the first time in weeks, something sparked inside of you. It was faint, but it was there—a strange kind of connection between the words in front of you and the emptiness that had been festering inside.

You understood what it felt like to be cast aside, to feel powerless in a world that seemed to reward strength and ignore everything else. You had given everything—your trust, your feelings—and in return, you had been rejected. What was the point of trying to fit into a world that didn’t care about you?

As you read more about Suguru Geto’s ideals, you felt a dangerous sense of comfort in them. He had rejected the system that had failed him, just as you wanted to reject everything that had led you to this pain. Maybe Geto had been right all along. Maybe it was better to follow your own path, to find strength and value in yourself rather than bending to the will of others.

You continued to read about his departure from Jujutsu High, the moment when he had fully embraced his ideals and left behind everything and everyone, including Gojo. That was when your chest tightened, the familiar ache resurfacing. Geto had been Gojo’s best friend—someone Gojo had deeply cared about, and yet, even he had turned away.

You couldn’t help but wonder: if Gojo hadn’t been able to stop Geto from leaving, what did that mean for you? You, who were nothing more than a quiet student, barely a blip on Gojo’s radar. How could you have ever thought you’d be special to him?

The realization sank deeper into your heart, twisting the rejection into something darker, something angrier. The more you thought about it, the more you realized you were done with it all—done with trying to fit into a world where you were invisible, where your feelings didn’t matter. You were done with Gojo, with the pain of wanting something that would never be yours.

As you sat there, surrounded by the cold facts of Geto’s life, a dangerous idea began to form. Suguru Geto had once been a student here, just like you. He had felt the same frustrations, the same disillusionment. And he had found a way out.

What if you could do the same?

The thought took root in your mind, growing stronger with every passing second. You could leave. You didn’t have to stay at Jujutsu High, constantly reminded of Gojo and the life you would never have. You could find Geto—find someone who understood your pain, someone who shared your ideals.

You closed the file carefully, your decision solidifying. The numbness you had felt for weeks began to melt away, replaced by something else—a sense of purpose, of direction.

Suguru Geto was out there, somewhere. And you were going to find him.

You knew what you had to do.

notes: thank you for reading the prologue! I'll be posting new chapters throughout the week, so if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[hochsleep]

Relationship with Daryl Dixon (headcanons)

This is my first experience writing headcanons, but I have a lot to say! And yes, I used a gif from Beth, but we don't support that pairing here, guys.....

Also, thanks to the author of the gif!

Pronouns: she/her (fem!reader) / (I'll do headcanons for Daryl's relationship for gender-neutral readers later on)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon/fem!reader (Y/N)

Warnings: no, not this time. Everything is decent (underage readers can read)

• Daryl Dixon is far from stupid. I mean, he can certainly tell the difference between romantic interest and friendly sympathy. He has Carol, his best friend, and he knows that he feels for her the kind of platonic friendly love he usually feels for a family member. But that's not the case with you. Sure, you've most likely known Daryl for a long time (assuming you joined Rick's group at any point from Atlanta to Prison, can pick at your discretion). So since you've known each other for a while, Daryl has had time to realize that his feelings for you are far from friendly. All the tenderness and care that he feels for you hardly compares to friendship. Daryl definitely didn't feel like kissing Carol's lips every time she came into his field of vision. That's the difference.

• But realizing your feelings is only halfway there. Daryl isn't the type to make the first move and declare his love. He's a very insecure person because of his past, so it would be hard for him to believe that someone like you would want someone like him. Daryl will just watch over you from the sidelines, he will make sure you are safe and will always be there to protect you. Even if it's just a harmless fall down the stairs when you were arranging jars of canned fruit on the top shelf in the Alexandria pantry. He will notice that the stepladder beneath you is wobbling dangerously and will be there to catch you and prevent you from bruising any part of your body. He will take great care of you.

• Daryl is probably the type of man who idolizes and admires the girl he's in love with. Both her character and inner world, as well as her looks. He would spend hours just looking at your unconditionally beautiful face. Every mole, every freckle, every wrinkle in the corner of your eyes when you smile. God, he could never get enough. Every part of you is perfect. Daryl's not sure he's ever seen a more beautiful woman. I mean, he probably had a soft spot for women he personally thought were pretty in the past, but it was never more than a glance in their direction. Just trying to say that Daryl isn't a pristine and innocent man who never thought about women. Over the many years of his maybe not the most prosperous life, Daryl has definitely had his fair share of beautiful women. But it had always been respectful. Mental admiration from the sidelines. Daryl never "barked" or "bit" like Merle. Daryl is much more respectful of women.

• That's why he likes to watch from the sidelines and think about you. A lot of thinking. Daryl is indeed a man of few words, but he has more than enough to think about. And when he falls in love, you become the center. Except when Daryl has to think about survival or when he and Rick are making a plan of action to save the group. But rest assured, all of Daryl's free time is spent thinking about you. He's very observant and remembers every little thing about you so he can think about it later. Do you like to read? Daryl will listen to you talk about your favorite books and find them during one of your outings, rest assured. Do you like wildflowers? Great, a bouquet of a hundred of them will be waiting for you on the doorstep of your Alexandria home when you come home after a hard day's work. Maybe you like a certain kind of clothing? Like something knit? Daryl will either find it during the outing or ask Carol to help with it when she's not busy. He won't say who it's for, but Carol certainly knows. And after you get those little gifts, Daryl will watch you smile widely because you know who left them under your door. And Daryl will think about your smile until he falls asleep at night. But he'll only dream about you, too.

• Somehow you were the first to admit your feelings because Daryl is actually cowardly about these things. A man can take on walkers or hostile people with his bare hands (like the Saviors), but he definitely can't just go and tell someone he really likes how he feels. No, you have to push him. And hints aren't enough, you have to say it outright. And then probably prove the sincerity of your words of love for the rest of your life, because Daryl Dixon is a very insecure man. He knows in his brain that you really do love him and will be faithful to him, but those childhood traumas are really getting in the way of his life. Be prepared for that.

• Your relationship with Daryl will gain momentum gradually. I don't think Daryl really likes all these formalities and labels like "girlfriend" and "boyfriend". You're just his and he's just yours. There's no need to complicate it all, the world of the zombie apocalypse is already very complicated. But if you care about dates and formalities, surely Daryl can learn to take it seriously. Not right away, but he will. Just give him time and he'll lay the whole world at your feet. And he'll start marking your anniversary with a marker on his calendar so that he definitely won't miss this important day for you (he won't admit it, but for him too). Daryl will be learning and you'll have to be a good mentor in this relationship for the first few years. It will be worth it, trust me.

• Daryl Dixon gets attached to people easily. He's like a big loyal dog. I mean, have you seen how loyal he is to Rick and Carol? He bites at first, doesn't want to let anyone in, but eventually he gives in and lets you take his heart and soul under his protection. Take care of that. My point is that this is the same way love works in Daryl's case. I'm pretty sure Daryl doesn't believe in the concept of love at first sight and stuff, he rather believes that love only comes about through the process of a relationship. So at first he thinks you are just a pretty woman. Then a friend. Then a good friend. And yes, he may feel sympathy, affection and probably crush at this time, but not love. No, he falls in love with you gradually. It's a slow process, but in Daryl's case it will be forever. He's definitely a one-woman man. And when he allows himself to really love you and not just be a little bit in love, when his heart completely belongs to you and he finally says "I love you" with all seriousness and responsibility, rest assured that this is love. This man will show you what true love is. Safe, sincere, and endlessly committed. Just give him time. Let him love you.

• The following headcanon (though I think it's unqualified canon) about Daryl's loyalty follows from this. You may try to be jealous of him or think he'll fall in love with someone else (it all depends on your confidence), but Daryl will prove time and time again that he's only loyal to you. This man is serious about his and your feelings and your relationship. Therefore, he will not give not a single reason for jealousy. But there could be quite a few women around (and men probably too) who might like Daryl. He doesn't care, he will never look at anyone else. Why would he do that when he has you? You're perfect for him and his heart doesn't belong to him anymore. So if Daryl notices your jealousy and insecurity, he'll spend all his time trying to prove to you that you're the one for him. He's deeply committed. To Rick, to Carol, to Maggie, to Alexandria. He's eternally devoted to you.

• The relationship with Daryl will be full of complexities, let's not turn a blind eye to that. He's a complicated man with a lot of trauma behind him. The situation is more acute if you're a complicated person, too. There's a lot to put up with. Probably a lot of fighting at the beginning of the relationship, especially if we're talking about Daryl from the first seasons of the show. But if you're both willing to work on that relationship, it will work well. Again, not right away, but it will. Daryl is sure that his love for you will be enough for both of you and certainly for solving all your problems in this relationship. He will try his best for you and you will try your best for him too.

• Physical intimacy is probably going to be difficult. Daryl's not a fan of close physical contact, especially with someone he can't call his family. You know, the boy had a shitty childhood. But he feels the need to feel the warmth of your skin on his skin. So he may unknowingly touch you before your relationship even begins. It could just be a "casual" hand collision when you both reached for the same item on the shelf. Or he may lightly touch your shoulder when he needs to get your attention and say something to you. You shouldn't pressure him with this and force a hug or anything like that. He will definitely come to it on his own when he's comfortable and he sees that you're okay with it. As your relationship progresses, he will open up to new types of physical contact more quickly. Sure he'll hug you a lot, try to hold your hand in his, but it's all in private. And of course kissing. I think Daryl actually likes kissing, but he's not very good at it for lack of much experience. Teach him how to kiss well if you have enough experience yourself. He'll be a good student. Especially when it comes to lessons involving his lips on yours. I'm pretty sure Daryl will become very clingy as your relationship progresses. When you're alone together, he won't be able to feel comfortable unless his arms are around you in one way or another. He physically needs to hold you, to bump his nose into your neck and hair to smell your scent, which he loves so much. And of course kissing. Gentle kisses or passionate French kisses, he loves it all.

• Daryl definitely doesn't like the display of attachment on the publick. He considers it yours and his alone. Something private that needs to be kept out of the public eye. Well, he's also pissed off by those ambiguous looks Carol and Rick give him after you call him "baby" or "cutie" in public. But Daryl is willing to hold your hands and will even let you kiss him on the cheek in public if he's in a good mood. He'll save the rest for the two of you alone in your sweet home in Alexandria.

• As for intimacy, everything is ambiguous here. I think for Daryl it is not at all a mandatory aspect of the relationship. If you are asexual, he will have absolutely no problem with this. You are more than enough. The opportunity to see you smile, hug you and make you happy is all he needs. Sex is not necessary and Daryl can definitely live without it if you are not interested in sexual relations. But if you are not against it, then he will be happy to please you. I mean, he does it every day just by existing and loving you, but if he can please you in a sexual sense, he will be happy to do so. But again, not right away. You both will go to this gradually. Trial and error. Only when he completely opens up to you and is not ashamed of his scars, knowing that you love them completely and completely because they are a part of him. But most importantly, when you yourself tell him that you are also ready, then you can act. Daryl has some experience. Merle ordered Daryl... a prostitute for his twenty-first birthday and Daryl had to do it. I think he was the one feeling like a prostitute, not the woman. And maybe he's slept with random women from a bar a couple of times after drinking too much. But it was never anything special and not out of great desire. With you, it's different. Sex with you is his way of showing you love in a new way. Either way, he knows how it works, but you still need to guide him. Show him how you like it and help him the first few times. Daryl is a quick learner, especially if you help him. So pretty soon he'll memorize all the right places and positions to make you feel good as hell, nothing less. Daryl will make sure that you feel good first.

• Your comfort is Daryl's absolute priority. Over the years, he will learn to compromise and give in when necessary. Daryl loves you unconditionally and is ready to be on his knees in front of you, this is what you have done to him with your love and tenderness. Daryl Dixon has become soft and fluffy around you. Just for you. Merle would call him a pansy and laugh, but Daryl doesn't care. Not anymore. You're all he cares about.

• You're his safe place. His home. His heart and soul belong to you, take care of it. And then Daryl Dixon will move mountains for you, you bet he will.

~ A cute little headcanon as a bonus: I honestly think the soundtrack of the relationship with Daryl, is the song: The Goo Goo Dolls - Iris.

[enhasparadise]

HOW TO (NOT) BE A BROKEN HEART.

— a lee heeseung serie; prologue.

why should you be heart broken when i’m by your side ?

SYNOPSIS ・ Heartbreak aren't a easy thing. well.. breaking up with your boyfriend wasn't the easiest thing to be and was absolutely not the thing that you wished for. and of course it was the most sadest thing you experimented (because you were in love of course.) but suddenly the sad feelings left your body when this boy from the theatre club get into your life on this rainy day.

PAIRING ・ theatre club member!heeseung x student fem!reader

GENRES ・ romance, fluff, slice of life, college au, strangers to lovers!

WORDS COUNT ・ 2138 words

WARNINGS ・ bullying, jealousy, anxiety mentionned, soft!beomgyu,

FEATURING ・ ENHYPEN jake, sunghoon, jungwon & ni-ki, TXT taehyun, beomgyu, ITZY chaeryeong (more will be added later..)

STATUS ・ UNFiNiSHED / ONGOiNG / iNCOMPLET

DATE STARTED ・ 18/09/2024

TAGLIST ・ @r1kification @charlizefaye @starfallia comment to be added to the taglist !!

MASTERLIST | NEXT >>

PROLOGUE. LOVE ISN’T A EASY THING..

Saying that romantic relationships were one of your strong points will most certainly be a huge lie. You've never really had a serious relationship, and your last relationship was a few years ago now. So obviously, saying that you were currently dating Beomgyu, one of the most popular boys in your high school, was quite strange.

Beomgyu was one of the best students in his class, if not one of the best. He was a member of a rock band with four other students in his class who happened to be his best friends, and of course, being a popular student means countless girls interested in him. And, looking at you next to him, you didn't know what to think, you were a shy girl, who spent most of her time reading books. The complete opposite of Beomgyu, so obviously he was quite curious to know that you were going out with him.

When your relationship was made public in high school, all the girls who were interested in your boyfriend gave you a number of dirty looks, and you quickly understood that they just wanted your relationship to end quickly. Apart from the girls, the boys around never took their eyes off you, well... no one took their eyes off you because the scene was so unimaginable.

Your hand was in his, and just feeling all his eyes on you, you felt a lump forming in the pit of your stomach because of the stress and unease you felt inside of you. In truth, you only had one desire since you entered the high school establishment. To hide.

Noticing your discomfort and your slight withdrawal when Beomgyu advanced through the corridors, he let go of your hand simply so that his arm came around your shoulder while he whispered in your ear. "Don't worry about all the looks you want to get okay? They're just jealous to know that such a beautiful girl as you is finally taken by the most incredible boy in this school.." and, onwards from what he had just said, a kiss had been placed on your cheek.

But unfortunately, beomgyu's words had done the opposite rather than reassuring you. You looked up at him, and without knowing why you felt almost your whole body trembling, imagining what you could potentially feel as the day progressed simply because you knew how much girls could be pests when it was about the boys. And unfortunately, Beomgyu was one of the most popular with girls.

"Beomgyu.. I don't feel comfortable.. all the girls are looking at me.." you started to explain while you felt close to crying while tears were present on the corner of your lips. And right now it was at this very moment that you hated being more sensitive than normal. "I've already explained to you... the girls will possibly hate me if she doesn't already hate me and... I'm afraid of what could happen to me during the day when you're not with me.. "

"Don't worry, I promised you that at least one person would be with you all the time when I wasn't there.. Taehyun is in your class, right?" beomgyu asked you, and after a few seconds you ended up nodding your head, responding with a yes. "In this case I would tell him to pay attention to you during lessons, and to defend you if ever necessary, but believe me you wouldn't have any problems, okay?"

Despite everything Beomgyu could tell you to reassure you about the day ahead, your mind kept creating many horrible scenarios where you found yourself the victim of several things because of the girls in your class who were jealous . And just with what you imagined you already hated the fact of having agreed to reveal your relationship in broad daylight, but just at this very moment, with all his eyes on you, you felt extremely bad at it. You were comfortable and you really didn't feel in your element. You just wanted to hide far, far away from everyone. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet when, deep down you knew, the day was going to be very long.

Noticing every detail about your discomfort, Beomgyu tried once again to reassure you, but nothing worked, you were stuck on the idea that, after leaving Beomgyu to join your class, you will be the victim of everything the girls can tell you. to suffer, despite the presence of his best friend in your class.

The corridors starting to empty due to the first ring that would soon be heard, Beomgyu took your face in his hands and delicately placed his lips against yours, a smile appearing lightly on your lips at this contact that you liked so much , but he finally cut contact a few seconds later, delicately caressing your cheeks. "see you at lunch break okay sweetie? and don't worry everything will be fine i promise, taehyun will be there for you" he whispered before quickly running towards the stairs to get to his classroom.

And you had to do the same thing since the time was getting closer and closer to the start of classes.

The halls were now almost empty, and you said surprised to notice almost no one in the halls you had taken to get to your classroom. When you looked up, you noticed that Taehyun was leaning against the wall, his phone in his hand, probably waiting for you, as you had told Beomgyu before he disappeared. And your stress decreased slightly while a smile appeared on your lips, reassured.

Except that, as soon as you raised your hand to wave at him, you were pulled to the right suddenly, and it took you several seconds before you understood where you could be. But noticing the walls and the numerous sinks, you quickly realized that you were in the girls' bathroom. The only problem was that you had just been dragged here, and you hadn't just gone there alone, so obviously this stress had quickly taken over your body.

Without even having time to understand, you were locked in one of the cabins present and, despite all your efforts to get out, you couldn't do it. Your stress began to turn into fear as you began pounding on the door, hoping that the people who brought you inside would let you out. "Hey, that's not funny! Let me go, classes will start soon!" You shouted but no response was heard in return.

The only thing you heard was much too high-pitched laughter and running water. And you froze almost instantly as you realized what was potentially going to happen, while the girls on the other side of the booth seemed to be laughing a lot more as it went on and were whispering among themselves. Your hands had started drumming against the cabin door again but still no way to get out. "It's not fun let me out!!" Did you scream a second time hoping they would let you out.

"Don't dream, we're not going to get you out now!" Had said one of the girls before their laughter resumed, the water still flowing, and just hearing the sentence made you hate the girl no matter who she was.

Despite your many efforts the door still didn't seem to open and, after what seemed like long minutes, the sound of water finally stopped. Which quickly made you panic since you imagined the worst, and unfortunately you started to cry because of the anxiety.

"Go ahead and do it, she deserves it anyway!" A girl's voice said from behind the cabin door.

"But I'm not bad! It was Syeon's idea! She should be the one to do it!" A second girl's voice said as you really wondered what was happening.

But you didn't have enough time to understand that you received the contents of a basin filled with water on your head, which directly wet your hair and completely ruined your uniform.

From the other side of the cabin, the girls' laughter had started up again as they couldn't believe that one of them had finally just thrown all the water at you. And quickly the laughter had faded in the toilets since they had finally left, but one of them had stayed longer since you could still see her converse through the space which separates the floor from the door of the bathroom.

"That's because you're dating Beomgyu." she said without any kindness present in her voice, and as the bathroom door opened she added. "We'll start again soon, don't worry about that."

And then, there was no more noise around you. Except that, even if you tried, you couldn't open the cabin door.

Only two minutes had passed, and you ended up sitting on the toilet and just letting the tears roll down your cheeks while you didn't even know what to do. It hadn't even been an hour since you made your relationship with Beomgyu official that girls were already starting to make you experience this type of thing? No, it wasn't possible... you weren't one of his daughters who boasted about going out with a popular boy... you were actually quite the opposite.

Your hope continued to make you imagine many things and your hands, which were resting on your knees, tightened on them, gripping your tights. You weren't angry, you were just... completely lost and on top of that you were going to be late for the first class, or weren't even going to be able to show up in the classroom.

Your cries could be heard throughout the restroom, but when the door opened again you tried to make as little noise as possible, trembling at the idea that it was one of his daughters again. come to humiliate you once again.

"Is anyone there?" Came the voice of a girl who didn't seem to be mean at all and understanding this you got back up and knocked on the cabin door. "Yes..! I.. I was locked in a cabin by some girls.. I can't get out.."

"Oh...! I'm going to find a teacher and I'll be right back!" She replied before the door closed again and you found yourself alone in the room again.

After about ten minutes, and the bell announcing the start of classes, the bathroom door opened again and the voice of a teacher was heard on the other side.

"Are you sure there's a girl stuck in the Chaeryeong toilet?" She asked as she walked towards the cabin you were stuck in.

"Yes...! It was towards that cabin...!" She replied.

And almost immediately the two girls had noticed something blocking the door handle of a cabin so quickly, it was removed and the door in front of you opened.

Chaeryeong brought her hands to her lips to cover her mouth, noticing the state you were in while the teacher took you out of there, taking your bag at the same time. And although you were happy to finally leave the bathroom stall your crying hadn't stopped as you left the bathroom.

But you were quickly stopped because a boy's voice had shouted your name, and when you turned around you were surprised to notice Taehyun who had quickly arrived towards you.

"My god, what happened to you?!" He asked when he saw the state of your uniform, drops of water falling against the floor. "Do you want me to talk to Beomgyu about this?" He asked you and strangely you shook your head to mean no, probably too humiliating for your boyfriend to know about this incident.

"Mr. Kang, please go back to class," said the teacher next to you, who was holding your arm, "Chaeryeong will come with you, she is also in your class, and tell your teacher that your classmate is in the infirmary please."

"Yes Ms. Yang.." he both replied before they left towards the classroom, leaving you alone with the teacher.

You went down the stairs and after several minutes you ended up in the infirmary. On the way, the teacher asked you many questions to find out what had happened to cause you to unfortunately find yourself in a state like this, but the lump in your stomach that you had felt a little earlier had you completely prevented from speaking.

Fortunately she didn't insist, and when you were in the hands of the nurse she left you, leaving the infirmary to go to her classroom.

And it was at that precise moment that you understood that, unfortunately, the day was going to be very, very long. But you also understood something else...

There was absolutely nothing easy about love.

And that, only because of his daughters who were completely jealous of the idea of ​​you being in a relationship with Beomgyu..

MASTERLIST | NEXT >>

Screaming inside because it’s only the prologue and I already love reading this serie omg

I hope that you enjoy reading it and that you liked how the prologue was going ! I hope to see you for the next chapter or for some other worlds that I’m writing

don’t forget to comment if you want to be added to the taglist

Love y’all 🧸

See you soon, Rain 💗

[makelovetomebypeach]

art donaldson is reader’s ex from college, except you two never really broke it off. at least not properly.

a/n: this isn’t proofread lmfao this was written in the middle of the night i was bored but enjoyyy

-

-

-

you were looking around a gift shop for a friend visiting the city. it was nearing the end of her trip and you wanted to give her a goodbye gift to remember the moment.

the day was cold, snow falling on the streets as cars honked by. thick jackets, winter festivals, christmas trees in the windows of random houses on the street. the entirety of earth settling down to celebrate the most wonderful time of the year.

you knelt down, scanning the shelves for mugs, keychains, you name it. picking out a gift for a friend was a great art you took specialty in.

“lils, don’t run around like that with glass in your hand. drop it and i’ll have to pay.”

you nearly dropped the item in your hand at the sound. a voice that haunts you each day, one that never left your mind. what was his presence doing here?

you were cursing yourself in your mind, putting down the item almost immediately. you didn’t want anything to do with him or his life.

suddenly, a tap on your shoulder causes you to turn around. your gaze meets his beauty, the sculpture of a face he owns. he was a piece of art. literally.

the first exchange of awkward glances soon turn to smiles. past experiences flooding back in a couple seconds of silence.

“i knew it was you.” did you really know? i don’t think you remembered me at all. unless i was stored in the back of your mind like i had always wished. did you miss me too?

“oh my gosh, i haven’t seen you in forever.” you pried a smile on your face as he gave you a side hug. the proximity of your faces sickening knowing that if you’d lasted it would’ve been different.

art took a glance at the girl standing cluelessly beside him. her hand tugging on his jacket as she held up a keychain with a smile. he knelt down, nodding his head and setting a kiss on her curls before she continued her adventure. art’s attention turning back to yours after a huff from the parenting.

“that’s my daughter lily.” “that’s nice, how old?” “seven.”

seven years, and more, he spent getting over me. i never really let go. you keep a leash on my neck even though you’ve got your life together. a child? a wife? a fucking career? why do i feel so magnetized by your invisible presence? why do i, after all these years, hold so much against you, but in reality, there is nothing at all?

“are you and your family just visiting?” you wanted him to come over sometime so that you could excuse yourselves to the bathroom and make out and possibly find your spark again. would that be so evil? you didn’t think so.

he puffed his cheeks, nodding as his hands stuffed into his pockets. “just for a bit, yeah.” the signature side smile that tugged his lips made you have déjà vu.

you were proud of him for doing what you couldn’t, moving on. he found himself a life, one without you, and definitely more successful. did his wife know that you were the one he slept with at night before her? you were the one who ran your fingers through his blond curls? how did he throw you away so easily as if you were never there?

“i missed you.” “i did, too.” “no, i mean like, i really fucking missed you.”

your eyes glistened with something more. yearning, the unresolved question that hung in the air. you didn’t know whether to cry on the spot. everything was full with question marks, anger, sadness, mixes and mixes of emotions that took too much mind to handle. your breath hitched with hesitation. a reassuring smile from art, wiping the tension away.

his smile signaling his acceptance of my thoughts before speaking. “it was real, all of it. and i’m sorry for throwing it under the rug like that. we’re both well past that now, i hope. please forgive the immature mess i was back in college,” his voice paused, like a barrier to the words that were urging to come out.

his hand slipped out the pocket of his jacket, setting it on your shoulder. please, console me, my lover. help me leave the role of being the biggest fish in your sea. no matter how many hooks go through my body, i will always come back to the surface to show you my scales.

“i have to go, but i wish you a happy holidays from my family. you’ll find the one, alright?”

your breath shuddered as you saw art walk away with his daughter hand in hand. their presence disappearing like the intimacy that once remained. the bells ringing as a sign that he was gone, that was his exit. the closure that you so desperately needed all those years.

your story was always destined to be tragic. you were left behind in a dusty cloth, an heirloom soon to be found near his deathbed.

it hurts to know that you will never be loved by anyone like art donaldson again. he was only temporary to your story. you still have a journey that continues, why shed on the past if he’d already moved on?

it was worth knowing that the love was there, and it might still remain, just left unspoken.

you won’t welcome him back anymore. you won’t stay on his doorstep, scratching on the door to find your place again. instead, you’ll be waving goodbye to him from the dock, watching him getting shipped off to sea.

this is our goodbye, art. thank you for stopping by.

[docholligay]

Thank you all for being concerned about the beeb.

She seems fine, she was back to badgering me about wanting to watch a movie and we are making her favorite (spaghetti) for dinner.

So, I get to the preschool, and the kids are released directly to the parents. I go to sign beeb out, and the teacher tells me, "I need to talk to you." My first thought is that my darling child has returned to her roots from infancy, when she was stuck in a life of crime stealing other children's snacks. She hadn't done that in a long time, but she does love a snack.

But then the teacher says, "She's not in any trouble" which is great. Okay, cool.

I get taken back into the classroom and I can tell beeb has been crying. The teacher then recounts to me that apparently, she and a boy were playing, and seemed to be playing together nicely, and then all of a sudden he hit my daughter and put her in some kind of tight headlock and was squeezing the hell out of her.

I get down on my knees next to her, and I am VIBRATING with rage. I am ready to FUCK UP this three year old. I turn to the gal and say--and everyone who has spent long enough around me can hear exactly how this is coming out of my mouth--"I can't help but notice that it looks like she's had a bloody nose."

The boy has apparently been written up, and was sent home, and after they talk to the supervisor he may or may not be returning at all. I don't know what else they are supposed to do realistically, but holy fuck I am so angry about it.

And, AND, after hearing some stuff from beeb--I've been trying not to bring it up so she doesn't associate preschool with this negative experience, because she has been loving it SO much--I THINK I KNOW WHICH KID IT IS. I figure it out in my head, putting all the tidbits I know together, and this wave of FURY comes over me. It is the Zelda "you just figured it out" chime but assembled from the screams of the damned. I am ready to beat this shit out of this [inappropriate things to say about a three year old redacted]. I do not trust that if I see him in the hallway I will be able to stop myself from going full Jack Russell Terrier on this kid and his parent.

I am REALLY hoping this doesn't ruin her time in preschool. She is still talking about how much she liked her swim lesson today. I am trying not to dwell on it with her because I don't want her to think about it too much.

But it was so hard, she was trying so hard to be brave as we were leaving, and she went, 'I'm still a bit sad"

[chevelleneech]

Are You Sure? - Ep8

Here are my thoughts now that I finally watched the episode (I was at work all day, anon, lol).

I honestly don’t have too too many, because my main takeaway was that they seemed to have truly needed these trips together. They knew by Jeju they’d be enlisting together, so I feel like any thoughts I had about the trips being a sort of last hurrah before potentially being separated go out the window.

They knew they’d be together, so barring them being romantically involved in some way… I kind of don’t get the point of the series.

Had this been a special involving other members, then it being work related would make sense. Had this been more like the Jeju episodes where they weren’t as laid back, I’d get it, but it wasn’t. Five out of eight episodes focused on them not doing much else other than simply spending time together. Sight seeing and going out to eat, with a sprinkle of activities. We saw them shopping for food and driving more than anything else, but for some reason they both still say the whole experience and filming of the series was the best thing they’ve gotten to do.

That to me, and I say this with full honesty, does not make sense to me, if they’re strictly platonic. I don’t know, episode eight sees them putting a certain level of importance on these trips that many antis wanted to rip away, and surely they knew that. They know what people think about them in their own fandom, both for the better and the worse, and they didn’t care. Which, good for them.

Moving away from my confusion in an attempt to find another explanation, I also think their joint melancholy about having to leave triggered the dropping of their guards a little bit. Add that to them drinking some, and their whole reaction moment felt almost intrusive to see, lol. They kept gravitating toward each other the entire time, only for the editors to skip to them sitting back up with more space between them. Nevermind the footsie and Jimin walking by the room they were shown going to bed in, when he said he was going to wake JK up.

So unless Jungkook was already up and in the shower or something, which they conveniently didn’t mention despite doing it every other time… they either didn’t sleep in the room with the camera or JK moved rooms. But again, given they gave us updates about every other sleeping arrangement or change, why would their last night be different if nothing happened? (By “nothing” I genuinely mean I think they moved to a different room without a camera, likely to talk or simply be closer. Not necessarily sex, because again, I don’t see them going there with a house full of staff.)

Pure speculation of course, lol, but yeah. Those moments made me feel a little like, okay, they did this with the intent of making memories. They may have wanted to cement who they are to each other in this moment, because no matter how optimistic they were that things wouldn’t change and their friendship would be solid, no one can predict the future.

Couple that with them both starting Ep1 saying they hadn’t seen each other and Jimin not being sure (no pun intended) the trip was a good idea in the first place, to them ending Ep8 saying they didn’t want it to be over and spent the last few days happy… it’s a big deal, I think. Especially with how many times they spent their last day in Sapporo taking about how romantic and pretty everything was.

Per the words from their own mouths, they created a small, romantic, nice, and happy bubble they didn’t want to leave, and I love that for them. They got to be happy and cared for by one another, and want to spend many more years to come doing the same thing. I hope they get that.

Oh and final thought… I want that house! Their final Sapporo house was beautiful, as was the town. It felt like a holiday special!

[lizardsfromspace]

I'm going to be honest: I've never had a bad movie theater experience. I know my experiences aren't universal but I'm always kind of baffled when people start talking about how awful it is. Most of that time was spent seeing wide release movies in multiplexes and I've never really had anything worse than a guy walking out to take a phone call or a crying baby

It's just annoying that this is one of those things where you're not really allowed to say you like doing something without people talking about how much they hate it. Not just talking about it, but hijacking and dominating the conversation to make it entirely about How Much It Sucks. You truly can't discuss going to a movie theater at all without getting instantly drowned out by a sea of OH I HATE ALL THE PEOPLE ON THEIR PHONES AND THE CRYING BABIES, I'LL NEVER GO BACK IT'S SO AWFUL, YEP YEP WHY DO WE STILL NEED 'EM WHEN I'VE GOT SUCH A GOOD HOME THEATER IN MY BASEMENT and like. Cool. Good for you. I'm glad your experiences are universal

(Maybe part of it is that one of the big complaints is about kids and babies, and honestly, I'm not even the slightest bit sympathetic to people who consider having to hear A Child Existing In Public a grand imposition. Maybe if it's something age inappropriate but like. Get over it?)

[mumblelard]

happy free mumblelard day for those who celebrate

this is the end of a long story. one that i haven't really told here. it probably won't be up long

it was a year ago today that three sheriffs deputies came to my home with guns drawn and arrested me, based only on the lies of someone i had once loved. lies about money, and nothing else. money that i didn't have. money she knew she wasn't owed. lies that i had run out of money and will to fight in court. i'll never really know, but i don't really think it was even about the money. this was her last path of attack after i had cut off all other contact

i spent three days in one of the worst jails in the country while my kids worked to assemble the cash needed to get me out. they didn't stop until i was out. places like rice street should not be allowed to exist. i can't believe they are legal much less part of our legal system

i'll never forget it. it was one of the worst things that has happened to me, but...it finally brought the years of lies and manipulations and gaslighting out into the open for my kids and i to all see together. everything she had orchestrated to alienate us from each other. when she realized that she had been caught, she continued to tell new lies to justify all the previous ones. every lie she told revealed, making the enormity of everything she had done clear

she eventually paid the money back, calling it a mistake, admitting it was never hers, but without apology

it was a horrible time, but it brought my kids and i back to each other. this experience we had been enduring apart became something we were moving through together, and that support made all the difference

even though she lives in walking distance, i haven't seen her or had any contact with her for many years now. the person i knew had really been gone for more years than that. she's even changed her name now

the whole of the experience affected me in ways that i am still figuring out and hesitate to write about. it feels so large inside of me, still beyond words, but maybe one day

my kids are coming over tonight, they come over every friday after work. we'll sit at my kitchen table, talk nonsense, and tell stories about our week. i can't wait

(this is the last picture in my roll before my arrest and the first one after. quiet bookends of normality for a nightmare)

[madcapberry]

heyy, you seem to be way more experienced than me in dc so i had a question.. i like jason todd but doesn't nw literally dogwalk him in an actual fight? i dont get the "jason todd is the greatest fighter in the batfamily" (thats cass) or dick couldn't/would have a very hard time beating him.

i might be wrong though!

Hi anon!! Thank you for the question <3!

I personally have never seen anyone say that jtodd is the best fighter in the batfam but maybe that’s because I mostly keep my nose out of most jason fans business…

Anyway when it comes to power scaling in dc comics Nightwing is always a weird character to talk about because writers are not very consistent about it (especially recently, TTs Nightwing was weirdly incompetent sometimes) and he’s often beaten down emotionally and mentally by his villains in order for them to have a chance against him physically. Based on the comics that I love and cherish I personally would rank him as one of the top ten (the lesser end of the top ten but still) most skilled non-powered fighters in universe and jason doesn’t make it anywhere close to that list.

Whenever jason and dick face off jason puts up a good fight, but to my knowledge dick always wins.

Dick is just on another level in terms of skill and experience, and that’s the way it’s been for forever. He was a child prodigy, and has spent his entire life commanding and leading god-like figures. The list of people who could win against him in a fight is pretty short. He has the respect of richard dragon, lady shiva, slade, midnighter, and nearly the entire vigilante/hero community. Jason has been shown to hold his own against bruce but tbh that doesn’t mean as much as a lot of people claim it does.

And yeah, like you said, cass is THE BEST. No argument.

[scarletcomalies]

Hear. Me. Out! Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now. Meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,129

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step and you don't have to distract yourself by reading or writing," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.