#i swear it's worth the emotional distress

[youngpeachenthusiast]

recommending omori to my friends be like: yeah it's scary and like actually probably traumatizing in some parts but i swear it's worth it you will like it even if you hate all the horror parts i swear it's worth it-

also i can't tell you anything about it because i don't know how not to spoil it but the music is sooo good you really should play it

[snoopyhq]

˚ ♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ i want your drama, the touch of your hand

type: viktor x reader

summary: making up with viktor after a particulatly nasty fight

warning(s): suggestive/borderline nsfw content after the red line divider !!!

word count: 1320

a/n: literally had this thought occur to me while i was boxing at my job yesterday and bad romance came on shuffle on my phone, MAN... the original version but also think the moulin rouge "backstage romance" version MWAH

Hour two, still no talking. The atmosphere within the apartment was heavy with unspoken resentment and hurt. Both of you had woken up in particularly bad moods, and it seemed that being in each others' presence simply amplified that.

Every little thing he did 'wrong' was ticking you off, and everything you said that was slightly unpredicted or off in tone would set him off, and it finally boiled over during dinner.

"I don't like lemon zest. I thought you knew that," he commented. He twirled a strand of the linguini through the fork, pushing the food around on the plate. In that moment, he looked like a petulant, petty brat, and it took all your strength not to reach across the table and slap it out of his hand.

"Maybe speak up next time. Or better yet, you could cook for a change then, since you seem to always have a smart remark about it!"

Viktor set down his fork. The lines between his brows furrowed.

"Don't speak to me that way please," he said, meeting your gaze. "I understand you may be frustrated, but I was just stating my preference. Something I thought you would know, since we do live and spend much of our time together, do we not?"

Anything else he may have said after the first statement didn't matter. You were already in an angry mood, and very much did not appreciate being told how to act.

"Don't police my fucking tone, Viktor. I'll speak however I want to dammit!"

He said nothing, picked up his fork again, and ate the rest of his meal in silence. The wall was slowly rising between the two of you once more. Viktor didn't wait for you to finish your food. He took his dishes, stood up, and walked off, the sound of his cane tapping against the tiles echoing too loudly in the space. You did your own dishes that night, and he did his.

Now there was a warmth lacking, even as the mattress dipped and sighed with every toss and turn. You were doing your best to keep your back to the other. It hurt, but your prides were nearly as sharp as your minds.

One of you had to break. You didn't want it to be you.

The loud banging noise from your upstairs neighbor finally did something.

"Goddammit, that idiot dropped something again," you complained.

"Someone please ban him from buying anymore hideous garden statues. That balcony is straight out of a post-apocalyptic nightmare," Viktor agreed.

You snorted, and quickly tried to cover it by clearing your throat.

"Am I only useful when I'm entertaining you?" he asked softly.

"Shut up. You know that's not true," you finally turned to face him.

"Then..."

"Viktor, I swear."

"That denial implies you care for me. Please, show and not just tell me," he requested sweetly.

"Oh yeah? Show you how, exactly?"

"I'm cold. I miss your warmth. You are cruel when you take away my routinely expectations."

"Fine. Come here," you finally reached out, and clasped his hand in yours.

This wasn't going to completely fix all the underlying emotional distress you were both dealing with, and it certainly wasn't going to fully rid what had transpired. But it was a start, made all the more worth it when he closed the gap, arms already wrapping around you tightly.

"I hate it when we fight," he whispered.

"Me too. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken out my frustrations on you."

"I'm sorry too. I should not have nitpicked so much, and I should have realized policing your tone wasn't going to make things go well."

NSFW AHEAD !!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED !!! MINORS DNI PLS !!!

Viktor gasped, the sound breathy as it fell from his beautiful lips, now slightly swollen from how much you'd kissed and nipped at them. Your hands were in his hair, and you delighted in his reactions with every sharp tug. His amber eyes were dark. They gazed up into yours, practically begging for more more more.

You were happy to indulge.

"Tilt your head back a bit more for me," you rasped in his ear, pushing him back against the pillows. He complied easily.

"Please...," he groaned.

You pressed another kiss to his pulse point. It was one of his more sensitive area, and wasn’t helped when you followed it up with more kisses on his beauty marks.

He sighed.

“You always kiss me like you’re discovering oxygen for the first time again.”

"Because you always take my breath away." You murmured in response. You knew he was going to tell you off for such a stupidly predictable statement, and he did. You shrugged and kept kissing him again and again, silencing any more protests he had with your choice of words.

He nipped at your lower lip, enjoying the small little hiss you let out. He loved that. It never grew old.

His lips left yours, reluctantly, but moved on to your flushed cheeks and down your jaw. Viktor’s hands began gently trailing down your body, tracing and touching and feeling, committing you to memory. Everything about you was perfect, and he was in awe of it all.

As if to translate his thoughts through touch, he squeezed your thighs. He especially had a thing for them, always had. It was like they were made for him to hold.

“You’re so touchy already, Viktor? Insatiable,” you teased.

"But you love it when I can’t keep my hands to myself. You can't lie to me about that,” he cooed in a soft, lilting tone. His fingers traced along your thighs again, digging into the soft flesh.

“Yeah, yeah. enjoy that smug look while you still can,” you grumbled, not denying his words.

You suddenly lunged at him, kissing a trail down his body, giggling to yourself at his surprised yelp.

"Hey!" he laughed breathlessly, his stomach doing somersaults as you kissed along his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he felt your lips press to his skin. He loved when you did this, especially when you would leave soft little marks on his hips.

And speaking of that. You were currently working away at his hips now, trying to hold back the urge to just sink your teeth into him.

He couldn't stop the soft sighs and moans that escaped him. Gods, the touch of your lips on his delicate skin was sending shivers throughout his body.

"You don't have to be ah… gentle all the time." he murmured breathlessly, his fingers now the ones tangled in your hair.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. Just bite me already, coward," he demanded.

He liked when you were a bit more rough with him. In fact, he preferred it. You not treating him like he was fragile. It made him feel better than being treated like a priceless doll, hidden away behind locked glass.

“Fuck, finally.” With his permission explicitly given, you finally sink your teeth down into him.

He let out a sharp moan, his hips rolling up a bit automatically.

"Keep going, please." he whispered. “Keep proving to me you’ll keep me warm for the rest of our days.”

You looked up at him, so wonderfully vulnerable and so violently true. His emotions were etched onto every angle of his face. Viktor was never once to mince words when it came to acts of passion, and you were fully reminded of exactly why you adored him so.

“I will. You’re forgiven,” you smiled. “Consider this worship my apology to you, and your acceptance, yours to me.”

You slowly pushed his legs apart, practically aching with the reverence and love and affection you felt for him. You could feel his breath hitch as yours ghosted over his inner thighs.

If this was how you two were to make up after a fight, maybe you should engage in conflict more often, you mused to yourself. It was going to be a slow, feverish night.

[rindreamery]

yukimiya, sweet or bitter (u choose), a tight embrace and secret relationship, please & thank you ♡

ORDER 4: READY TO GO !

yukimiya + bitter + tight embrace + secret relationship w.c. 1.6k+

note. thank you minjee for proofreading <3 erm so this went way above 1k👩‍🦯 i feel like if i cut it short, the story just wouldn't sound right at all, yk?? listened to the instrumental version of toxic till the end - rose while writing this, highly recommend

interested in more? check out the lounge !

there’s nothing more disappointing than being stood up.

the feeling of being so excited to see someone again, after weeks of your schedules not lining up with one another, just for them to not follow through with their plans. without notice, of all things. you understand, in some cases— some things come up unexpectedly, emergencies, problems that are simply out of your control. but as far as you’re aware, there had been no emergency.

yukimiya had simply forgotten all about your date. again.

this would mark the third time, at this point. which was so weird, so unexpected, and so out of character for someone like him. he was nothing short of practical; he was always organized with his time, and any and every event would always be marked down on the calendar in his phone. set with an alarm, a calendar widget added onto his lockscreen, and everything. 

you glance at the clock on the wall, and you sigh to no one in particular. it’s late, hours past the time he had agreed to come over. the food on your dining table had long gone cold, the candles had been blown out and the smoke had fizzled out, and you’ve changed out of your nice clothes into something more comfortable. you sit on the couch in absolute silence, your apartment still, and you stare out the window. 

the city outside is buzzing with the usual hum of nightlife, and you can hear the distant chatter and laughter as people whizz by. people on their phones talking, people with their friends, and people with their significant others. it fills you with a feeling you can’t quite name. jealousy? discontent? or are you simply just sad? you’re not quite sure. 

you’re about to get up, about to pack up the food and save it for yourself to eat another day, when a rapid series of knocks at your door pulls you out of your thoughts.

for a second, you stand there, unmoving. you chew on the skin of your lips as you contemplate opening the door— you know who it is, but truthfully, you’re unsure of whether you're in the mood to really talk to him. a second passes, a tick of the clock rings somewhere in the silence, and then another knock to your door. you walk, despite your best judgement, and you take your time opening it.

you crack the door open, only a little, and a sliver of yukimiya comes into view. 

“i’m so sorry,” he apologizes, words tumbling out of his mouth and rushed, and he sounds as if he were out of breath. beads of sweat line the crown of his forehead, his bangs are slightly matted to his skin. “i swear, i promise, my manager sprung something on me, last minute.”

you stand there, hands gripping onto the doorknob, as you take in his disheveled appearance— his typical polished, put-together demeanor crumbling right in front of you. for the first time, since you’ve known him, yukimiya looked genuinely distressed. his mouth was opening and closing repeatedly, desperately searching for the right words to say, and you can see a glint of pleading swirling in his eyes. but the words never leave his mouth, and all you’re stuck with is his rushed apology. 

“please,” he finally speaks again, “please, open the door. let me in, please.” 

you don’t, not yet.

you’re disappointed, angry, sad, all at the same time— you feel it all as one emotion, deep in your heart, and you want to shout at him. you want to open the door and shove him back, to give him a piece of your mind, and let him feel the weight of the constant disappointment. three dates worth of waiting, having hope that things might finally change, and then realizing that it won’t. 

but you stay calm, eerily so. “you’re late,” you tell him instead, voice flat and quieter than you intended. though, even to your own ears, it sounds more sad than anything. he flinches slightly, despite your hushed voice. “third time, yukki. this is the third time.”

“i know,” he mutters, “and you didn’t deserve that.”

at least you’re aware, you respond back in your head, but you don’t say it out loud. a silence falls between the two of you, thick and suffocating, and you both stand on opposite sides of your door. he doesn’t move, he doesn’t try to shove his way into your apartment, but he simply keeps a hand on your door. just there, yet somehow, so invasive. 

you’re just not sure what hurts more: the fact that he keeps forgetting about your dates, or the fact that you’ve begun to expect it. you’ve already started bracing yourself for the feeling of disappointment each time, somewhere in the back of your mind nagging you that your hopes would be crushed by the reality of his busy life. 

the life he just doesn’t seem to be able to make room for you in. (the life he keeps you far, far away from.)

"please, just open the door." with a heavy sigh, you swing the door fully open. there, the two of you stand, facing each other, unsure of what to say. 

you press your lips together, your mind swirling with all the things you want to say, all the frustration you’ve bottled up. and you end up talking before you think, “another modeling gig.” his shoulders tense at the words, and the way his eyes flit away for a second tells you all you need to know. “and you couldn’t say no, again. even though this date was planned two weeks in advance, and you ended up choosing a modeling gig over me. again.”

the words sting as they leave your mouth.

"i know, i’m sorry. i don’t know what else to say," is all he could say, his voice barely audible, and his apologies repeat like a broken record, "just, i’m sorry."

you want to demand more from him, more than just an empty, repetitive, half-assed apology. but before you can, he steps forward, closing the distance between you, in one swift motion.

you don’t step back. you don’t move at all.

when his arms wrap around you, your arms stay stuck to your sides. his embrace is tense, desperate even, in the way his arms tighten around you at the lack of response. you feel everything he feels— you can feel the way his heart pounds against his chest that’s pressed to yours, you can feel the way his fingers curl into your hair as he pushes your head deeper into the crook of his neck, and his ragged breath that fans against your ear as he buries the side of his face into your hair. for a split second, you find yourself losing to yourself, melting into his touch against your will. 

you can feel the apologies, you feel his regret— as if he’s hoping this hug would say everything he can’t put into words. but it doesn’t fix anything. it doesn’t change the fact that he’s failed you again.

it’s hard to ignore the fuzzy feeling of having his arms wrapped around you once again, the feeling of being shielded from all of your problems. but it’s even harder to ignore that feeling of fear that you’ll always be second to everything else in his life. his jam-packed schedule, spontaneous modeling gigs that he just can’t seem to say no to, and his fans who aren’t even aware of your existence— all who come before you. you’ve tried to be understanding, to be patient, but the neglect has finally worn you down. 

“we can’t keep doing this,” your words are muffled by the skin of his neck, his hand on the back of your head keeping you close to him. "i can’t do this anymore, yukimiya."

silence. 

your words hang heavy in the air, and for a moment, you’re unsure of whether you've even said them out loud. but the shift in yukimiya’s grip—his body stiffening, his breath audibly getting caught in his throat, his hold on you faltering momentarily—tells you that he’s heard you. loud and clear. another beat of silence, and you realize the two of you will never get anywhere like this.

you take this chance, this moment of weakness, to put some distance between you two.

you find the resolve to rip yourself from his arms, hands pressed against his chest as you finally push him away. “i think—” and your voice cuts out as you swallow heavily. but you’ve made up your mind, and you continue. "that maybe it’s better if we don’t see each other anymore," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

his arms reach out for you again, but this time, you step back. "i’ll change," he pleads with you, his eyes searching to meet yours, "i’ll tell everyone about us, i’ll make sure my time is all yours. i’ll even quit, if you told me to." and you know, deep down, that he would. 

you look at him, and the part of you that still (inevitably) loves him aches at the sight. "you know i would never ask you to do that for me, yukimiya," you tell him, shaking your head. "and i should never have to ask you to change, you know."

and yukimiya knows, you’re not wrong.

still. he stands on the threshold of your apartment, unwilling to leave, not wanting to leave. but with a gentle shove of your fingertips against his chest, he steps back. and with that, you move to close the door between you, a “goodbye,” slipping past your lips, before the door clicks shut.

© rindreamery, 2024

[vagabond-umlaut]

affaire de cœur

Plucking one's heart from their chest and devouring it is all 'affairs of the heart' meant to the King of Curses— until his Queen walked onto the stage of his life, that is.

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone'; gallons of domestic fluff between sukuna and reader; hints of spicy times; no warnings except sukuna is very much sukuna here but you too are there, so he's sort of a better sukuna... [not loads better, though]

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"Repeat those words after me, my lord."

"No."

The pouty face you vault his way from the other end of the bathhouse makes Sukuna huff an annoyed sigh. Few monsoons back, you would never even see him in the eye, gaze trained on his feet – until he lifted your chin up; even then you would shyly avert your gaze — yet, now?

Now, you show the boldness to wear such a pathetic expression while making such an imbecilic request– nay, demand of him– locking your gaze with his the entirety of the time, no less.

Another sigh finds its route past his lips. Watching the way those sin-filled lips of yours twitch in a tiny smile before dipping into a pout, he groans.

"Alright. Fine," Sukuna grumbles, resting his two arms on the edge of the tub while the other two move to card through his damp hair, "Will you ever leave me for another, woman?"

Your eyebrows rise for a beat, the second the question you chomped his ears off earlier for, leaves his mouth. Your lover rolls his eyes, loud scoffs erupting from him at the utter inanity of the whole situation at hand — you, not beside by him, but beside those damned towels and bath soaps; him, not soaking in the warmth of your flesh but of these bath waters; the humid bathhouse not resonating with the sounds of your whines but with the remnants of a query, whose answer he does not care the least for, for no matter what you say or do, he will not—

"Yes, I will."

Your clear voice scatters his thoughts away, akin a strong wind and a handful of chaff. Sukuna freezes, every crimson eye of his fixed upon your approaching figure– your soft footfalls, your yellow yukata, your simple hairdo, your angelic smile...

Your husband takes a while too long before discovering his lost voice, eyes narrowed, throat tight and chest heavy as he asks you, "You will leave me, pet?"

"Uh-huh, I sure will," you hum in response, sitting on the stool next to the tub and moistening a towel. Sukuna moves to grasp your wrist in his palm but pauses when he catches you switch your attention from the towel to him, a terrifying emotion brimming in your tender gaze.

You draw in a tiny breath before speaking, voice now a mere whisper.

"Show me someone who is the most feared creature to ever exist, yet is a sulking mess if he isn't being cuddled in bed till noon every single day; someone who detests humans like I detest carrots, yet visits the monthly market in secret, to get gifts for his close one; someone who everyone's told me is the worst, yet goes on to prove, again and again and again, how he's the absolute best in this world—"

You stop suddenly.

Chest growing heavy from an entirely different reason now, your lover drinks in the manner your smile widens, your fragile fingers letting go of the cloth to trace those markings on his skin instead – you resume.

"Show me someone whose embraces feel the safest place in all the three realms, and I swear, my king, I'll leave you and run to his arms without thinking twice."

For the first time in his millennium of existence, the two-faced curse feels the same distress of being paralysed, as his mere mien induces in the muscles of his miserable victims— except, it isn't the fear of an end to his life which is causing this abhorrent weakness to him unlike those worthless mortals— no.

It is the fear of the unknown, of the uncharted, which is rendering his powerful self so, so powerless before your blinding brilliance. Sukuna thinks death might be an easier journey to undertake than these odd realisations your voice and touch elicit in him always.

These days, more so.

This moment, very much so.

The addicting timbre of your voice rouses him from his musings, the second time that night.

"Is every–"

"Is that supposed to be a love confession?" Your husband cuts you off before you can finish your question. You slowly blink at him once then twice, before leaning backwards and picking up the forgotten cloth, a visibly coy giggle bubbling out you as you return to washing his skin.

"Yes," you agree after a beat, gaze darting to his face before skittering away again, "That is supposed to be a love confession for my beloved king; though I wonder what my lord thinks of it. Was it heart-touching as I intended to make it? Or did it sound too tedious to him?"

The addressed being deliberately makes a big show of rolling each of his four eyes at your query. "Neither," he says, curling his lip in a show of vexation before they lift a little at the lower lip you jut out, "And you should count yourself to be lucky that you're my wife, not a worthless mortal, pet. For if you were not my wife–"

"– you would've sliced me into halves without a moment's hesitation," you finish the rest of the sentences for him with a fond shake of your head. "Trust me, my king, I know you. I do, I rea– Sukuna!!!"

The startled shriek of his name— not my lord or my king but Sukuna —parts the curse's lips in a smirk, which widens on noticing the warm water slowly seeping into your clothes, making them translucent; and you staring up at him with a disbelieving look etched onto your pretty face.

Sukuna allows his smirk to melt away into a genuine smile, for once.

Nestling your drenched form closer to himself, he closes his eyes to rest his forehead on your shoulder, palms holding you as if you were not a member of the race he lives for the sake of tormenting, but an invaluable blessing, beings he has never believed in, sent earthward for his damned self.

Which is true, the curse reckons. You indeed are a blessing he knows he doesn't deserve – yet will keep for and with himself for an eternity and some more.

Pressing you closer to himself, your husband lifts his head to plant a kiss to your forehead, followed by your warm cheeks — hoping you'll understand the meaning behind every reverent contact he's marking your form with now.

After all, you know him really well, don't you?

[You do— which is only why you reciprocate every brush of his sharp canine over your skin, with a brush of your soft palm over the wicked, handsome, wickedly handsome visage of the love of your life.]

▸ masterlist

[justarithinnngs]

Spaces. (Squid Game x Player!Reader)

Chapter 1 - Dynasty

Warnings: death (character death), terminal illness, mentions of medical trauma, mental health struggles, emotional distress,

It was a perfect night. The kind that felt like it could stretch on forever—easy, light, and full of laughter. (Y/N) sat at the bar, leaning over to listen to her best friend, Jiwoo, as she rambled on about some guy she’d met earlier that evening. The music was loud, and the chatter was lively, but for a moment, everything felt right. (Y/N) could feel the hum of contentment in her chest, the steady beat of happiness she always found when she was with her friends.

“…And then, I swear, he tried to impress me with some lame pick-up line about my shoes,” Jiwoo laughed, her voice barely audible over the beat of the club. “Like I didn’t know exactly what he was doing.”

(Y/N) giggled, playfully nudging Jiwoo’s arm. “Classic. But hey, at least he tried, right? Most guys wouldn’t even bother.”

Across from her, Soojin joined in, raising her glass and grinning mischievously. “Maybe he thought your shoes were worth impressing. But knowing you, you probably just went along with it.”

(Y/N) laughed again, a soft, genuine sound that could be heard above the noise. It was the kind of laugh that made others smile, the kind that came easily to her. She loved moments like this—being surrounded by her closest friends, the ones who knew her better than anyone. The night stretched on, filled with shared jokes, teasing, and stories. In the midst of all this, (Y/N) was happy. She was light, unburdened, free.

But her friends knew something she didn’t always recognize herself.

“You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?” Jiwoo had said earlier in the night, a serious edge in her voice that was rare for her.

(Y/N) had smiled it off, tossing her hair back. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re always the one to look out for everyone,” Jiwoo had continued, a hint of concern creeping into her tone. “You’re always helping people, always trying to fix things. You need to be careful, (Y/N). It’s gonna catch up to you one day.”

(Y/N) had laughed it off, but deep down, she knew they were right. She was the one always trying to make everyone happy. The one who stayed up late to listen to someone’s problems, who would drop everything to help a friend in need. It wasn’t that (Y/N) minded. She couldn’t imagine being any other way. Her kindness was like a light, and it radiated from her in everything she did.

But now, as the night wound down and she stepped out into the crisp air with her friends, a sudden shift of unease began to settle deep in her gut.

“Are you okay to get home?” Soojin asked, her voice tinged with a touch of concern as she linked arms with (Y/N).

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired, that’s all,” (Y/N) smiled, waving off any worry. “I’ll be fine.”

“Call me when you get home,” Jiwoo added, glancing at (Y/N) with a look that made her hesitate. “We love you, you know that?”

(Y/N) grinned at her friends, pulling them in for a tight hug. “I love you guys too. Now, go home and get some rest. I’ll be fine.”

But the moment she stepped inside her apartment, the weight of everything from the night seemed to press down on her, and she knew something was off. Her phone buzzed as soon as she closed the door behind her.

It was her mom.

(Y/N) had spoken to her mom earlier that day. She’d been worried about her dad, who’d been feeling increasingly unwell. His health had been declining for a while, but they hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong. At first, they thought it was just stress. Then they thought it was something minor, maybe just exhaustion. But as the weeks went on, things weren’t improving, and now, it felt like the weight of it all was suffocating her.

She answered the call, trying to shake off the remnants of the night’s fun, bracing herself for the conversation.

“Hey, Mom. How’s Dad?” (Y/N) asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a long pause on the other end, and then her mom’s voice came through, softer, more fragile than usual. “Sweetheart… We got the results back.”

The words hung in the air, a sharp sting that immediately made her heart race. “Results? What do you mean? What’s going on?”

Her mom took a shaky breath, and in that moment, (Y/N) felt her entire world tilt. “It’s… brain cancer, (Y/N). Your father… it’s brain cancer.”

There it was. The words hit her like a physical blow. Brain cancer. Those two words, so simple, yet so heavy, dropped like an anchor into her chest, pressing the air from her lungs.

She gripped the phone tighter, her fingers trembling. “No… No, that can’t be right. He’s… he’s been feeling sick, but not like that. Not—Mom, there’s got to be a mistake. Please, tell me there’s been a mistake.”

Her mother’s voice cracked. “I wish it were, honey. I wish it were a mistake. But… it’s not. The doctors—they said it’s advanced. We don’t know how much time we have.”

A hollow silence swallowed the room, and for a moment, (Y/N) couldn’t speak. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and all she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat, thundering in her ears.

The world outside her apartment, the noise of the city, the memories of the night—everything blurred, faded into a hazy mist. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed in her chest, each beat slower, more painful than the last. Her mind couldn’t grasp what her mom had just said. Brain cancer? Her dad, the man who had taught her to ride a bike, the one who made her laugh so hard she’d cry, the one who held her when she was hurt… he was sick. So sick.

“No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, cracking under the weight of it all. She sank down onto the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear, the words spinning in her mind like a broken record. No, no, no.

Her mom’s voice came through again, gentle, but full of sorrow. “I know, baby. I know it’s a lot. But we need to be strong now. We need to be there for him.”

(Y/N) shut her eyes, squeezing them tight, as if she could block out the reality of it all. But it didn’t help. It didn’t change anything.

She could feel the spark inside her—her energy, her light—slowly dimming. It wasn’t something that happened all at once. It wasn’t a switch being flipped. It was the slow, agonizing realization that her world had just shifted, irreversibly. She wasn’t the same girl who had been laughing with her friends just hours ago. That girl was gone.

Her voice cracked again, this time louder. “I… I don’t know what to do, Mom. I don’t know what to do.” Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped at her eyes frantically, but they just kept coming. “I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him. Please, Mom, please tell me there’s something we can do.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. Then, her mom spoke, her voice trembling, but filled with quiet strength.

“We’ll fight, (Y/N). We’ll fight for him. We don’t know how much time we have, but we’ll fight. You’re not alone in this.”

But (Y/N) felt alone. She felt the weight of the world pressing down on her chest, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t know how to keep going. The energy that had once been so full of life, so vibrant, felt hollow now. Her father, the one person who had always been her rock, was slipping away from her, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Her sobs echoed through the quiet apartment, her body wracked with grief she didn’t know how to handle. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And she didn’t know how to fight against it.

She couldn’t be strong anymore. Not tonight. Not yet.

[amazinglystay]

Shattered Reflections

Hyunjin x Y/N

·:¨⛦𓆩♡𓆪⛦¨:·

Summary:

When Y/N discovers suspicious texts on Hyunjin’s phone, their relationship is thrown into turmoil as love, trust, and betrayal collide. Faced with heartbreak and doubt, Y/N walks away, leaving Hyunjin to grapple with his mistakes and a desperate promise to wait for her.

T/W:Angst-heavy themes-Emotional arguments and tension between characters-Mentions of potential betrayal (emotional cheating implied)-Emotional distress and trust issues-Themes of heartbreak and self-doubt

·:¨⛦𓆩♡𓆪⛦¨:·

The rain poured relentlessly outside, tapping against the windows like a frantic heartbeat. Y/N stood in the middle of the dimly lit living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Across from her, Hyunjin leaned against the doorframe, his sharp features shadowed by the soft glow of the overhead light.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Hyunjin’s voice was low, almost defeated, but there was an edge to it one that sent a chill down her spine.

“I want you to be honest with me,” Y/N shot back, her voice trembling but resolute. “Was it worth it? Was she worth it?”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes narrowing. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist this into something it’s not.”

“Oh, so I’m twisting things now?” Y/N let out a bitter laugh, her hands falling to her sides. “Hyunjin, I saw the texts. You can’t tell me they didn’t mean anything!”

“They didn’t! She’s just a friend, Y/N. I’ve told you that a hundred times.” His voice rose slightly, frustration bubbling to the surface.

Y/N shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Friends don’t send those kinds of messages, Hyunjin. Friends don’t talk about ‘missing each other’s presence’ or how ‘they can’t wait to see each other again.’”

Hyunjin sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. His usual composed demeanor was cracking, revealing the storm raging beneath. “You don’t trust me. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare turn this on me,” Y/N snapped, her voice breaking. “I trusted you. I gave you everything, Hyunjin. And now, I don’t even recognize the person standing in front of me.”

Hyunjin flinched at her words, his expression softening for a moment before hardening again. “You think I don’t feel the same way? Do you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this, to know I’ve hurt you?”

“Then why?” Y/N’s voice cracked, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “Why did you let it get to this point? Why didn’t you just—”

“I don’t know, okay?” Hyunjin interrupted, his voice raw. “I don’t know why I said the things I did to her. Maybe I was lonely, maybe I was stupid. But I swear to you, it didn’t mean anything. You’re the one I love, Y/N.”

Y/N stared at him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to process his words. The sincerity in his eyes tugged at her heart, but the pain was too fresh, too sharp.

“Love isn’t supposed to feel like this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Hyunjin took a step toward her, his hand reaching out hesitantly. “Y/N…”

She took a step back, shaking her head. “I can’t, Hyunjin. I can’t keep doing this. I need time to think. To figure out if I can ever trust you again.”

His hand fell to his side, and the distance between them felt insurmountable. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain pounding against the glass.

“I’ll wait for you,” Hyunjin said finally, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes. “No matter how long it takes. I’ll wait.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She grabbed her coat from the back of the chair and walked to the door, her steps slow and heavy.

As the door closed behind her, Hyunjin stood alone in the dim room, the weight of his mistakes pressing down on him like the storm outside. And as the rain continued to fall, he whispered into the empty air, “I’m sorry.”

·:¨⛦𓆩♡𓆪⛦¨:·

A/n: ⚠️this is ment to be no hate towards hyunjin or anything just an fanfic i wrote a few days ago!⚠️ but that’s it for today 🤗 hope ur doing well and we’ll make sure to eat drink and sleep loads ok?

More like this? Click here

[lovelyverosika]

Angels going crazy…crazy…is he angry maybe…maybe

Hazbin Hotel! Adam x Fem!reader

Part 4 —> Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Warning: swearing, slight violence, mention of suicide, suggestive ;)

3rd POV:

Meanwhile in the courtroom:

Everything was quiet. All eyes on them. Adam stood in front of Monika with an unreadable expression on his face. "Sir, what are you doing?", Lute said as she came down the podium. Sera looked unsure as well and Charlie looked shocked or to say it better betrayed. Monika knew that redemption was possible the whole time and didn’t tell her and on top of it she’s not the nice demon she acted to be.

"Leave now.", said Adam with a stern voice. Monika raised an eyebrow. "Why?", she asked. "I said leave.", Adam said again, this time with a louder voice. "Naw, are you hurt because your sweet wife is actually a dumb loser bitch?", Monika said with a mocking grin. "I SAID LEAVE, YOU DUMB BITCH OR ELSE I BEAT YOU DOWN THE HOLE YOU CAME FROM MYSELF!", Adam basically screamed at her. Monika looked at him with widen eyes. "Whoa dude, chill.", said Monika with a slight scared expression on her face. "Enough is enough.", Adam said while grabbing Monika roughly and pushing her down the portal to hell. "I’m so sorry for all this mess.", said Charlie as she grabbed Vaggies hand and left for the portal as well. Without saying another word Adam flew out of the courtroom, leaving everyone either confused or shocked.

The streets of heaven were unusually quiet and the angels seem to be in some kind of distress. Why? Because of none other than the first man. The last time they saw him in such an angry state was when Y/N left heaven for 2 weeks for business. Right now he wanted to be alone to clear up his mind or at least collect his thoughts. He really hoped Emily didn’t took Y/N to their shared home, he doesn’t want to get seen in such a vulnerable state at all costs after all he was THE Adam, THE first man. He let out a sigh of relief when he opened the door and everything was quiet. Immediately he went into their shared bedroom and threw his mask on the floor. With a heavy sigh searched for something in the closet of his wife. After a few minutes he found it and couldn’t help but to crack a small smile. It was a stuff bunny, which resembles Y/N.

On their first valentine’s day Y/N has gifted it to him, of course he acted all rough and tough before actually accepting the gift. What would the other angels think if they saw THE first man being all infatuated because of a simple stuff bunny. Behind closed doors he let his facade fall together with his mask since he knew how sensitive Y/N was and how fast she got insecure about those kind of things. Loving kisses and lots of sweet, teasing words were shared that evening but no one needs to know how smitten he actually is. He lied down on her side of the bed, inhaling her comforting smell. He didn’t know how to feel, he still had mixed feelings about what he found out. Out of exhaustion he then fell asleep.

-time skip-

It was early in the morning when Y/N came home, she slept over at Emily’s since she thought it would be the best to give Adam some time. She couldn’t help but to be scared. Adam hated sinners but she changed and redeemed herself and when you think about it there are demons who did much worse than she did. Of course she regretted throwing away her previous life but the past can’t be changed. Everything here in heaven is different now, she finally found someone who makes her (after) life worth living for. Guilt flooded her mind, she only had herself to blame but she couldn’t just causally tell him that she used to be a demon, sadness and fear were one of her most dominant emotions.

Controlled by fear she only does things with a small chance of turning out bad, which lead to her missing out a lot of things since her youth. Adam always gave her a slight push to try out as much as possible as long she’s not too uncomfortable. The outcome was pretty satisfying to her, she tried out lots of new things and they even went to a concert together. Sure it was overwhelming at first but in the end she enjoyed it even more than he did. She smiled at the memory as she walked towards the bedroom door.

She took a deep breath as she opened the door with shaky hands but she relaxed a bit as she saw Adam still sleep. She walked up to him and smiled, he held the stuff bunny she gifted him close to his chest, that must be a good sign, right? Careful not to wake him she kissed his forehead and left the bedroom to prepare some breakfast. Even if he’s going for the divorce she wanted to show him her love and appreciation for one last time.

Right when she finished his favourite breakfast he came out of the bedroom. He sat down in front of her without saying anything, which made Y/N feel even more unsure and nervous than before. "Redemption…huh.", were the first words he said. "Well yes and I’m so sorry for not telling you..I just thought you would like leave me if I told you. And I know you don’t really like demons but I only got to hell because I thought suicide was the answer, which obviously isn’t true, so I’m not a murder or anything. But if you want to leave me I can totally understand that and I’m not mad or anything just a bit sad but-"

Adam interrupted her: "Sheesh babe chill, if you only were this talkative in bed..just kidding this is serious. I forgive you after all how can I stay mad at you when you’re my sweet wifey. Of course you were an asshole for not telling me but you’re still you. Damn I sound cheesy right now." With a loud happy squeal Y/N basically threw herself on Adam and hugged him tightly as they now lay on the floor. "Ouch fuck!", he said while patting her back. Y/N mumbled a quiet sorry before giving him a quick peck on his cheek. "So are we going like fuck now?", he said with a playful smirk. "Adam.. we’re having a wholesome moment right now.", Y/N whined before gently punching his shoulder. They spend the whole afternoon cuddling and just appreciating each other’s affection.

Later that day when the sun went down Adam took Y/N to her favourite flower garden. No one else was there just them. Suddenly Adam got on his knees, leaving Y/N confused and a bit excited. "I’m not good with words, babe but when I say I love you I really mean it and I know we’re already married but will you marry me? I wanna marry the other part of you as well..wanna make you all mine.", he said, leaving Y/N stunned. "Yes, yes and yes!", she answered, touched by his sweet word. Without saying anything else they kissed deeply with the sun setting down behind them.

They spent the rest of the night underneath their sheets naked while loving each other passionate and deeply.

The End<3

A/N: Looking back I never thought that anyone would read this fanfic, which is based on one of my delusional daydreams. The amount of support I got really touched me. That’s why I decided to continue this small Adam x reader series. I really hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for everything<3

[baddestbittyontheblock]

december fic recs

❅ whew, i've been gone for a while. but i've missed making these fic recs. so in the spirit of the new year, i wanted to appreciate my faves that i read during december!! please enjoy!! ❅

❅ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each incredible writer!! ❅

��� however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings. this is also for 18+ ❅

❅ if you’d like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ❅

celebs

billie eilish

✱ nectar by @retrobutterflies  billie eilish x fem!reader | 4k, sickening, cotton candy fluff

- you both admit the extent of your feelings between soft teasing and pretty kisses.

✱ there for you by @ifwbillie billie eilish x fem!reader | comfort, reassurance

-you’re sitting on your bed, wrapped in the blanket like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

✱ flicker of light by @astrcmoni billie eilish x fem!reader | 3.8k, angst, smoking, slight cussing

-two years after a devastating breakup, you unexpectedly cross paths with billie, the ex who shattered your heart, at a crowded party. as the night unravels, unresolved emotions, lingering tension, and unspoken truths collide, forcing you to confront the love and pain that still bind you.

✱ bleeding blue by ^ billie eilish x cosmetologist fem!reader | 10.8k, fluff, slight cussing

-after destroying her hair, billie turns to you, her fiancé, in hopes of you being able to fix it.

✱ eyes for you by @chrissv4mp billie eilish x reader | 2.5k, tiny outburst, small argument, jealous!reader, and billie acting like a huge cornball.

-when you find a wide-spread video of your childhood best friend kissing another popular social media star, you find yourself growing jealous. however, billie seems to think you're a little out of your mind.

✱ birthday wish by @moralesluvr billie eilish x reader | fluff

-billie’s house is buzzing with warmth, the faint hum of music mixing with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filling your ears as you finish preparing pastries that you whipped up for billie’s birthday get-together.

✱ comfort billie by ^ billie eilish x reader | fluff, comfort

-comfort with girlfriend!billie

✱ the way you move on the dance floor by @eilishsmuse sorority president!billie eilish x sorority president!fem reader | drinking, drugs, partying, typical frat boys, swearing, mentions of throwing up, billie is literally the biggest flirt on campus but reader is an even bigger flirt, explicit content, soft billie, lowk romantic, cutoff smut

-both billie and you finally meet at a SAE party after being busy with all the rushing season going on. as the night goes on, it turns out that you and the pi phi president have a lot more in common than you thought. the two of you spend the rest of the night partying, drinking, dancing, and chatting. making a deal.

✱ fade into you by @vi-steponmeplease attentivegf!billie x insecure!reader | 1.1k, angst, fluff, self-doubt, emotional distress—nothing too serious

-when doubts about your worth drive a wedge between you and billie, an emotional confrontation reveals just how deep her love for you runs.

✱ look closely by @freshxsturniolo billie eilish x fem!reader | fluff

-you can't help but blurt out a laugh, a bit of champagne dribbling down your chin as your friends around you spoke loudly.

madison beer

✱ my favorite by @spanktony madison x fem!reader | 1.4k, established!relationship, fluff

-you and madison have a date in the library, according to you.

woso

alexia putellas

✱ busco lo de antes by @randombush3  alexia putellas x reader | 5.2k, brief mention of alcoholism

-you wake up but you're not sure where.

✱ te hacemos falta by ^   alexia putellas x reader | 4.7k, bit of smut

-you wake up but you're not sure where

✱ learning curve pt:2 by @girlgenius1111 alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] | very soft fluff, angst, kidfic.

-will tries to adjust, and so do reader and alexia. a phone call and a nightmare dampen will's spirits, but alexia and r try prove that they are there for him.

✱ injury by @helen-with-an-a alexia putellas x reader | 7.5k, smut, 18+, cunnilingus (face sitting; reader giving), anxiety

-reader gets an knee injury at it brings up some past emotions for alexia

✱ cheater by @mapis-putellas alexia putellas x reader

-alexia's sudden arrival immediately grabbed your attention, but it wasn't just the noise that alarmed you—it was the way she looked.

✱ good news by @ceesimz mom!alexia putellas x reader | hospital, concussion, loss of consciousness, though nothing too serious. smidge of angst, then just fluff.

-alexia gets injured, and you're left dealing with two upset children.

call of duty

simon riley

✱ simon blurb by @shotmrmiller simon riley x reader | smut

-imagine ghost helping you jerk him off

✱ simon series (pt:4) by @sunni-stuff dad!simon riley x mom!reader

-reader who gets pregnant off of a one night stand with some soldier during armed forces day, showing your appreciation for his service a little too well.

✱ eye catching by ^ simon x new!medic!reader

-of course, he noticed you. ghost noticed everything.

✱ rest in his care by @shizumi123yuki simon riley x reader | fluff

-after a long shift, you fell asleep in your work clothes, too exhausted to care for yourself. While you sleep, your husband, simon, quietly tends to your skincare routine and changes you into pajamas. You wake up touched by his thoughtful care.

men's soccer

pedri gonzalez

✱ iman by @pedriscroquettes pedri x reader | pure fluff

-your boyfriend loves you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.

✱ not a lot, just forever by @purinfelix pedri x reader | fluff

-in which you have to remind your boyfriend to take care of himself while away

✱ speechless by @sargeant-bxrnes pedri x reader | 1.8k, arguments, jealousy, slight possessive!pedri. SMUT: grinding, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected, rough wall sex.

-pedri was mad and you couldn't get him to stop arguing; so you did something that left him speechless. or when you flash your boyfriend to shut him up.

✱ public secret by @coolemmasulivan2 pedri gonzalez x reader | 2.4k

-you're not together, but everybody knows that you're together.

✱ add up my love by @planetpedri pedri gonzalez x gn!reader | 0.2k

-pedri, despite just scoring a goal, can’t help but fine you in the crowd, and dedicate it to you.

✱ injured by @p8dris pedri gonzalez x footballer!f!reader | 0.5k, mention of an injury

-after you get injured during a game, pedri is the first person to come and find you.

pablo gavi

✱ loving & losing by @halfwayhearted pablo gavi x fem!reader | 1.15K+, angst, slight comfort, fluff-ish (?)

-everybody knew the two of you were broken up. everybody except, well, you and gavi... fortunately enough.

arcane

caitlyn kiramman

✱ drabble by @soft-beams caitvi x f!reader, established!vi x reader | suggestive?

-caitlyn's nervous and you're there to...help.

✱ sweetest obsession by @glitterandlasheshq commander caitlyn kiramman x reader

-it's easy to let things slip through the cracks during times of war and uncertainty. especially when its your commander doing the slipping up.

marvel universe

natasha romanoff

✱ the madness in me by @salem-witch-slut natasha romanoff x fem!reader | 6.1k, SEX POLLEN, enthusiastic consent, drug-induced sex, masturbation, fingering (N!receiving) pussy eating, (r!receiving), violent sex, mutual pining, confessions of love, reader is described as agoraphobic (fear of being in unsafe, unfamiliar environments), no use of y/n

-you and natasha get infected with an alien aphrodisiac that is supposed to induce heat cycles in many species. how will you both cope with this issue? (we all know how)

✱ there’s been no way for me to say (that i felt a certain way) by @keepingitformyself natasha romanoff x reader | college AU, fluff, angst

-natasha romanoff has loved you for ages and she could never seem to get it right.

✱ be my mistake by @bellaveux natasha romanoff x fem!reader | 19.8k, lots of angst, hurt/comfort??, cheating, insecure!reader, mentions of alcohol/drinking, implied smut, wanda being a good friend

-three years have passed since the divorce, since natasha hurt you and over time, you found yourself reflecting on the struggles you both went through, both as a couple and apart from each other. revisiting memories with your family draw you and natasha closer than you’ve been in years.

✱ just one more by ^ natasha romanoff x fem!reader | 6.3k, 18+ minors dni. smut; top!natasha, bottom!reader, inexperienced!reader kind of, lots of teasing, fingering (r! receiving), oral (r!receiving), heavy overstimulation, squirting, nat is pretty soft/and in love with reader

-natasha gets distracted from her work and refuses to pay attention to anything else but you.

✱ easier said than done by ^ natasha romanoff x fem!reader | 7.4k, hurt/comfort, angst, medic!reader, protective!natasha, injured!reader, injuries, blood

-she didn’t want you on this mission—her only thought was keeping you safe. but despite her efforts, even she couldn’t protect you from getting hurt.

✱ constant by @notanactressyayy natasha romanoff x reader | smut!, making out, g!p Natasha, guided masturbation, orgasm denial, unprotected sex (p in v), choking, swearing, homesickness, fluff, reconciliation.

-natasha and you were the only 'constant' in each other's lives. poor you, to think you could get over her so easily.

✱ undercover by @traveler-at-heart natasha romanoff x fem!reader

-natasha and you play a happy couple for an undercover mission.

✱ and my waves meet your shore by @keepingitformyself natasha romanoff x reader | angst, fluff, sad natasha

-natasha seems to have found silence in all the noise.

✱ learning to warm cold hands by ^ natasha romanoff x reader | fluff

-two people who love each other belong together. that’s it.

✱ little spidey by @yelenasdiary natasha romanoff x spider-woman!reader | 1.3K, angst, comfort, fluff, brief mentions depression & loneliness 

-after coming home from a long mission, you struggle to accept a little shift in your relationships.

✱ someone familiar by @please-destroy natasha romanoff x pregnant!reader | 7.6k

-Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.

fallout

lucy maclean

✱ transfem lucy nsfw blurbs by @mayasaurusss transfem!lucy maclean x gn!reader | reader who is described at one point to have a 'slit' (is a slit a hole? Is a hole a slit?), transfem Lucy, description of blood, heavy smut.

-what if the wasteland's craze got to lucy's head?

✱ married life by @alottiegoingon lucy maclean x fem!reader | lucy is a dork, established relationship, its 2296-2300ish, it takes place after fallout finale and things get better after it, nothing but fluff and a married couple doing cute shit, no nsfw but mentions of it, quick cannibalism mentions (uh…), wasteland and life outside the vault brief mentions, reader wasn't born in the vault, not proofread, silly plot

-meeting lucy + being married to her

✱ practicing by ^ lucy maclean x bsf!reader | smut (mdni), fingering, pet names

-bsf!lucy and reader practicing for boys. r’s loud and lucy has to shut her up because no one can know

✱ hunger by @freelancearsonist lucy maclean x afab!reader | 0.8k, oral (reader receiving), a little bit of internalized homophobia, reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), two (2) okie dokies

-you teach your best friend something new.

sweetpea

rhiannon lewis

✱ being rhiannon lewis's lover! (pre-relationship) by @vevobly rhiannon lewis x reader

✱ showing rhiannon affection by @lottiesgrl rhiannon lewis x reader | fluff, slight angst, rhiannon is a stalker, mentions of murder

-rhiannon has always felt like nothing to other people.

✱ christmas with rhiannon by @rhiannonsknife rhiannon lewis x reader | mostly just fluff. established relationship. gn!reader. some nsfw below the cut. fem!reader for the nsfw hcs. mdni.

-your first christmas with rhiannon hcs.

✱ obessive!rhiannon by ^ wife!rhiannon lewis x reader | nsfw content. mdni!, breeding!kink, obessive tendencies

-obssesive wife rhiannon who is absolutely obsessed with getting you pregnant.

✱ protective by ^ protective!rhiannon x pregnant!reader | fluff

-rhiannon being over protective of your little bundle of joy. Always claiming the baby as her own.

marauders era

remus lupin

✱ dad!remus blurb by @inkdrinkerworld  parent!remus lupin x parent!reader | fluff

-remus brings your daughter to your bedroom for morning cuddles and a chat

sirius black

✱ midnight strolls and nosy portraits by @iamgonnagetyouback sirius black x reader | 0.8k, mutual pining, nosy portrait

-where a nosy portrait causes some feelings to be revealed

✱ no wine, then by @ellecdc sirius black x fem!reader | 0.6k, reader + Sirius have an undisclosed number of kids already, at least one of them is a son, fluff

-reader thinks she's pregnant again

[skellymom]

"LITTLE BROTHER"

THE BAD BATCH ONE SHOT

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 2.7K

Background: What happens if a clone baby doesn't play by the rules on Kamino? This fic includes the headcannon (another Tumblr poster came up with this one) that Hunter has a crush on Shaak Ti. The clone baby is assigned a number, however, since there are so many of them and I didn't want to just guess left it as CT-______. Use your imagination for the number. This fic takes place right before Order 66 and before Hunter is aware of Omega's presence on Kamino. And, this baby alerts Mace Windu to the fact the Batch are the key to Omega being taken in by their squad, eventually leading to Omega helping the Rebellion defeat the Empire (this is the "Shatterpoint" in the Force Shaak Ti speaks of that Mace Windu senses.

Warning: Swearing, discussion of euthanasia, baby poop.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

The keening cry of a newly decanted clone shattered the silence of the Neonate Ward. 

Shaak Ti could sense the little one's distress and hurried down the corridor. The cry was eventually shared with other babies. She entered to a roomful of loud fussy neonate clones. 

Nala Se stood in the middle of the ward, a frustrated expression on her face. 

“Again?” Remarked Shaak Ti. 

“Yes. It would seem this decanted clone will not settle.” 

Shaak Ti glanced down at the tiny instigator, red faced and screaming for all he was worth. 

“IT is causing distress to the other newly decanted.” 

“HE probably needs to be held...” Shaak Ti picked up the screaming bundle... 

...who immediately went quiet. Then the ENTIRE ward went quiet. It seemed that THIS clone was causing the other babies to react as well. 

 “See. That is all that was needed.” Patting the baby's back gently. He cooed at the Jedi. 

Nala Se glibly shot back. “These newly decanted MUST be able to self soothe. They must be in control of their emotions out in the battlefield.” 

“Maybe it’s just temporary? They are JUST babies. Perhaps Omega can help...” 

Shaak Ti was cut off by the Kaminoan. “Omega is currently assisting ME with research and does NOT have the time.” 

Lama Su approached Nala Se and Shaak Ti. “If CT-_____ fails to self soothe by the end of the week, IT will shall be terminated. 

Horrified, Shaak Ti hugged the baby to her. “Are we sure such a drastic measure is necessary?” 

“It is imperative. We have a 20,000 UNIT deadline to complete with accelerated growth in the next few months. They MUST be ready and in top form upon delivery.” Lama Su added. 

“Could we use his ‘defective’ nature to start ANOTHER specialized clone force?” Shaak Ti was grasping at straws now. 

“I was under the impression Jedi should NOT form attachments.” Lama Su shot back. 

He was right...Shaak Ti was doing just that. However, destroying a small life due to needing to be comforted seemed severe. 

Just then the ward door opened, and Omega entered. She approached Nala Se. “Oh, hello Commander Shaak Ti. Nala Se, I am finished with the tasks you gave me. What is OUR next project!” 

The Jedi nodded to the child. Then glanced up at Nala Se. Attachments indeed! 

Nala Se caught the pointed look from Shaak Ti. “Come, Omega. Let us go to the lab.” 

“Bye Shaak Ti” Omega innocently waved then followed behind Nala Se. 

“Goodbye sweet child.” Shaak Ti beamed at the child with an important future... 

The ward doors closed behind them as they exited. 

“IT has 3 days to improve. If not, IT will be terminated.” Lama Su said his peace, then exited the ward as well. 

Shaak Ti glanced down at the little life in her arms. She had a bad feeling about this. 

Unfortunately, things did NOT improve.  

CT-______ continued to caterwaul. Shaak Ti checked in daily. 

Every time the clone cried, eventually his brothers would start in solidarity. When he was picked up by Shaak Ti, he stopped. His brothers would go quiet as well. 

The Kaminoan’s NEVER held their test subjects. It was beneath them to do so. 

Omega was NOT permitted to assist with CT-____ in any capacity. 

Highly concerned, Shaak Ti sought advice from Mace Windu via comm. 

The Jedi listened quietly to the predicament, then rubbed his chin in contemplation. 

“I shall inquire at the Jedi Council, then give you my answer in the next standard rotation.” 

Shaak Ti nodded obediently and waited. 

The day came with CT-______ slated for termination. He refused to self sooth, instead reaching his tiny arms out for ANYONE to hold him...comfort him. 

Nala Se, resigned to sealing this baby’s fate, loaded the bassinet onto a holostretcher and SLOWLY proceeded to the euthanasia chamber. 

Before she could enter, Shaak Ti was waiting outside the entrance. 

Nala Se seemed surprised to see her there. A move Shaak Ti took advantage of. 

The Jedi waived her hand in front of Lama Se. “You have terminated CT-______. You must return to the laboratory with Omega.” 

“I have terminated CT-____. I must return to the laboratory with Omega.” The dazed Kaminoan repeated. 

Nala Se wouldn’t remember a thing. 

 “Well lads, looks as though Master Shaak Ti will be joining us for this mission!” Hunter beamed. 

“Oh Goody. Careful Hunter, she might sense how much you PINE for her.” Crosshair sneered. 

Wrecker shot back with a shit eating grin. “OOOh, Cross, you’re just JEALOUS.” 

Crosshair shot Wrecker a LOOK. 

Echo chuckled at his new squad's antics. 

“It seems we are accompanying her to the Separatist planet of Ryloth as an envoy.” Tech informed everyone. “She will be assisting Captain Howzer.” 

“WHAT!” Echo shot straight up in his seat. “We are working with Separatists?” 

“The details seem to be confidential. Need to know basis for now.” Tech added. 

“That’s strange...” Echo was extremely suspicious. 

Hunter set everyone at ease. “I’m sure we’ll be briefed before arrival to Ryloth. “Here she is now.” 

The clones stood at attention and saluted Shaak Ti as she ascended the gangplank and boarded the Marauder.  

“At ease soldiers.” She warmly smiled.  

Wrecker jabbed Crosshair in the ribs and grinned. Cross gave him stink face. 

Tech started up the ship and prepared to leave Kamino. 

“Commander, please have a seat.” Hunter offered Shaak Ti the seat behind Echo in the cockpit, as he would be seated next to her behind Tech. 

“Thank you, Sergeant.” She smiled. 

Hunter mildly blushed.  

“Before I do there is another matter I must address.”  

Shaak Ti reached down and pulled up the front of her heavy long skirts, exposing her legs and bottom torso underneath. 

Hunter almost FAINTED!  

He may have had some...thoughts about this Jedi General...only at times in solitude so she was unable to sense them... 

The blood rushed to his head, making his vision swim. 

The rest of the crew stopped and stared! This was so UNLIKE the Jedi Commander!!! 

Underneath Shaak Ti’s skirts was strapped a small baby. 

A clone stowaway...under a Jedi’s skirts! 

The baby looked at Hunter and cooed. 

“Uhhh...” Hunter stared dumbfounded. 

“What the FU...dge!” Echo caught himself in time. 

“WAIT? Are they NOT DECANTING them anymore???” Wrecker scratched his head trying to figure out where babies are NOW coming from. 

Crosshair sighed and held his forehead. 

Tech cleared up the confusion. “It would seem that Jedi Shaak Ti is covertly sneaking this clone neonate aboard so that we may shuttle it off world.” 

“You are indeed correct Tech.” Shaak Ti unstrapped the baby and handed him to Hunter.  

She dropped her skirt and sat down. 

Hunter caught a glimpse of the Jedi’s legs before they were covered again. His brain momentarily broke. 

Echo needed details. “Why? He’s too young to leave Kamino.” 

“He is defective and was slated for termination. When we depart Kamino, I shall tell you the rest.” 

The baby reached up and pinched Hunter’s chin, bringing him back to the moment. He sat down and cradled the baby in his arms...seemingly an automatic act even HE wasn’t aware of. “Tech, take us off world IMMEDIATELY!” 

He didn’t have to tell Tech twice. 

The crew was extremely quiet as the Marauder made its way off the planet. Hunter began to worry about what was to develop. Unconsciously, he began to slightly rock the baby. It soothed him.  

Echo glanced over his shoulder at Hunter and smiled. 

Crosshair rolled his eyes. 

Blue light bathed the ship as the Marauder coasted in hyperspace. 

Shaak Ti filled in the rest of the intel. 

“So, our squad are the LAST defective clones to be allowed on Kamino?” Tech surmised. 

“Yes, unfortunately. The Kaminoan’s are tamping down on any deviance within the clone population. They are no longer even trying to reprogram the few who develop out of parameters. Any found outside of those parameters are slated for immediate termination.” Shaak Ti grimly explained. 

“Things have been changing so quickly on Kamino lately.” Hunter’s brow creased. 

“Don’t like it one bit.” Echo’s suspicion was back. 

Shaak Ti followed up. “Conveniently, I was scheduled to meet with the governing body of Ryloth. And, with some help from the Jedi Council we can place this little one with a family there.” 

“The Kaminoan’s don’t just give away their property freely. How did you manage to convince them?” Echo enquired. 

“I agree with Echo.” Tech added. “The Kaminoan’s are anything but charitable.” 

“I... resorted to utilizing the Force.” The Jedi shifted uncomfortably. “According to Master Windu, the exposure to this young clone will help you all on a future mission.” Shaak Ti smiled at the squad. “As you know Master Windu sees an important Shatterpoint in your timeline.” 

“And... what is that Shatterpoint?” Hunter enquired. 

“Unfortunately, Master Windu did not elaborate. He FEELS something strongly in the Force but cannot put it to words.” 

The clones silently glanced at one another.  

Shaak Ti added “But, for now we are saving a small innocent life. This has enough merit on its own.” 

“Agreed” Hunter smiled down at the small one in his arms.  The baby grinned back up at him. 

“Hey...Hunter...can I hold ‘em?” Wrecker asked hopefully. 

“Uh...yeah.” Hunter got up and walked over to Wrecker, who seemed excited. 

Wrecker held out his large hands awkwardly. 

“Wrecker, support his body with this hand. Take your other hand and support his head carefully. He’s young and his neck isn’t strong enough yet. He’s a baby, not a Lula. Gotta be REAL gentle.” Hunter handed the baby over and placed Wrecker’s hands in the correct position. 

Hunter stepped back and watched his brother. 

“Aww, he’s SO CUTE!” Wrecker beamed. 

The baby cooed at Wrecker.  

Cross, sitting next to Wrecker watched silently. 

Then the baby spotted Crosshair’s silver hair shining in the Marauder’s cab lighting. He made grabby hands toward Cross. 

“Ooh, he wants YOU to hold him.” Wrecker grinned. 

“NO.” Crosshair got up and sat at the other side of the ship. 

The baby immediately started to cry. 

“Look, you hurt his little feelings!” Wrecker shamed his brother. 

“I don’t do kids.” Crosshair crossed his arms uncomfortably. 

The baby wailed loudly. 

Crosshair couldn’t handle the caterwauling and stalked to the back of the ship. 

“Ohh, just ignore him cute widdle baby boy.” Wrecker grabbed Lula. “Lula says he’s a big ole’ poopy head anyway.”  

The baby stopped crying and Hunter dabbed his tears away with the baby blanket.   

“Brother Wrecker wuvs you...BOOP!” Wrecker gently touched Lula to the baby’s nose. 

Baby smiled. 

“Brother Hunter wuvs you...BOOP!”  

Baby laughed. 

“Brother Echo wuvs you...BOOP!” 

Baby belly laughed. 

“Brother Tech will wuv you too...BOOP! Especially since you’ll listen to his infodumps...BOOP!” 

Baby laughed SO hard... 

...and made a strange face... 

...then baby’s rear end made the MOST horrid sound! 

“OH MAKER! WHAT IS THAT!!!” Wrecker almost retched. “IT’S SOO STINKY!” 

Wrecker quickly handed baby back to Hunter and ran away after Crosshair. 

“Uh...” Hunter was woefully unprepared and just held baby out away from him. “Commander...uh...please tell me you have extra diapers...” 

The Jedi laughed as she approached, taking the baby from Hunter. She had a bag slung over her shoulder. “I’ll take care of him, Sergeant.” 

He turned red in spite of the horrible smell assaulting his enhanced senses. 

Hunter had an awakening... 

Something about maternal women and little children... 

Something warm and paternal blossomed in his heart. He watched Shaak Ti as she walked to the back of the ship soothing the baby. 

A minute later, Wrecker ran back up to the front of the Marauder. Crosshair followed furiously spraying refresher air freshener EVERYWHERE. 

“I don’t know what that baby ate but...EWW!!!” Wrecker grimaced. 

“OH MAKER!” Echo yelled; his face had a severely pinched expression. “Now it smells like FLORAL SHIT in here!!!” 

Frustrated, Crosshair shot back at Echo. “Well, WHAT would you have me DO???” 

Tech to the rescue: He engaged the Marauder’s indoor filtration system. However, it did take some time to dispel the smell.  

When Shaak Ti brought the cleanly changed baby back, Echo requested to hold him next. The baby took an interest in Echo’s scomp.  

Wrrrrrrrrrr. Baby was entranced. Wrrrr, wrrrr, wr, wrrrrrrrrrr. 

Echo laughed, then the baby laughed... 

And make THAT FACE. 

Wrecker held his nose. “OH NO! NOT AGAIN!!!” 

“It seems the Kaminoan baby formula irritates his sensitive stomach. Another anomaly in his genetics. I switched his formula for the trip.” The Jedi attempted to get up and retrieve the baby. 

“Please relax Commander. I’ve got this.” Hunter got up and took baby from Echo.  

Shaak Ti handed Hunter the diaper bag, and he made his way to the back of the ship. 

Crosshair sprayed the air freshener in Hunter’s wake. 

Echo turned around to glare at Crosshair. 

“What?” Cross leaned back with an antagonistic smirk, inserting a toothpick into his mouth. 

Sometime later everyone settled in during the trip to Ryloth. Hunter offered Shaak Ti his bunk so she could rest before arrival. She warned the baby may need to eat soon. 

By this time, Tech had the baby in his lap and was info dumping about various animal life of the galactic planets. Baby was deeply interested in everything he had to say. 

Or maybe it was just the glare on Tech’s glasses that caught the baby’s attention? 

Either way, Tech set up his datapad to play the corresponding animal sound when the baby pressed a button. Baby cooed with each animal sound.  

Shortly after baby lost interest and started to fuss. 

“Uh oh...” Wrecker was weary. 

“Well...he isn’t making THAT face, so I think we’re safe.” Echo ribbed Wrecker. 

"It’s fairly obvious that he’s hungry.” Tech stated. 

Hunter rummaged through the bag to find a bottle full of blue Bantha milk. 

“You like the GOOD stuff, kiddo.” Hunter smiled, taking baby from Tech and popping the feeding nipple into baby’s mouth. 

Baby suckled away and made grabby hands towards Crosshair again. 

Cross side-eyed baby. 

“Come on, Cross. He obviously likes you.” Hunter pleaded. 

“Usually that’s asking a LOT of someone.” Echo joked. 

“So funny, Echo.” 

“Hey, we ALL held him.” Wrecker piled on. “Hunter EVEN changed his diaper!”  

Crosshair wasn’t convinced. 

Baby continued grabby hands and was now vocalizing in between gulps of formula “Uuuuummmm!!!” 

Straining out of Hunter’s grasp towards the sniper. 

Tech verbally poked at his brother “It would seem that he INSISTS you hold him. Why he wishes to be close to your unyielding nature is a mystery.” Tech was baiting him. 

Crosshair pulled the toothpick from his mouth and flicked it at Tech. “All right...” He huffed. “Give me the little womp rat.” 

Hunter gave Crosshair a shit eating grin as he placed the child on his brother’s shoulder. Cross didn’t expect to have baby THAT close to his face. Hunter KNEW what baby was after. 

The baby held his bottle with one hand, chugging away. Then reached up with the other to grab a handful of Cross’ hair.  

For a second Crosshair looked panicked. But relaxed when he realized baby only wanted to hold onto something while eating. The weight seemed strangely familiar...like his rifle when it rested upon his shoulder. But...warmer...more comfortable.  

Crosshair leaned back on the seat and put his feet up.   

Tech played his specially recorded soothing sounds of Kamino’s waves over the Marauder’s PA system. Baby continued to suckle away at his bottle, then fell fast asleep on Crosshair’s shoulder. 

The sounds also affected Crosshair as he eventually passed out in a deep sleep on the cabin chair totally unaware of what would transpire... 

...as the rest of The Batch decided to record this special moment. 

After all, Baby would be in his new, safe home by tomorrow... 

There’s a pic Tech keeps on his datapad of a snoozing Crosshair with a baby sleeping on his shoulder. The rest of the Batch is posed around him.  

Hunter leans his head against his brother and the baby. A serene smile on his face. 

Wrecker gives Crosshair Lula ears with his fingers behind Cross’ head. He pulls Gonky in next to him. 

Echo puts his arm around Gonky and proudly leans into the shot next to Wrecker. 

Tech took off his goggles and propped them up on the Marauder’s dash so the recording device attached to them could mark the occasion. Then blindly made his way to Hunter’s side to pose, a sassy half grin on his face. 

In Hunter’s bunk, Shaak Ti sighs contentedly in her sleep. 

Back on Coruscant, within the Jedi Temple, Yoda pauses and quietly smiles. 

He looks to Mace Windu “The child is safe, he is.” 

Mace, relieved, replies “Eventually...the galaxy will be too.” 

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[fall0utmind]

Medical Leak AU Ch6

Chapter 6 - Burn/ Mistake Below (4k)

Part 1 - 5 here

Here on AO3

****

I'm still sick and my head hurts but i REALLY hope you guys enjoy this chapter of pure pain.

Thank you so much for all the love, I so so so appreciate it.

Let me know what you think!!

TW//// suicide - slight descriptions of suicide and dying (no actual death) - mentions of overdose and injury (all past)

The room holds its breath. Everyone is on high alert, their wide-eyed stares dancing between different group members, cataloguing every reaction. They are collectively choking on the escalating tension balancing on a razor’s edge, threatening to asphyxiate them all. Valentino studies the scene before him, blinking in confusion at the strange mix of people filling the small space. He raises his eyebrows at his boys, who shuffle awkwardly; Bez refuses to meet his eyes, staring steadfastly at the floor instead. Pecco and Luca do not share the same reservations, meeting his stare head-on. He is astonished to find unrestrained anger in Pecco’s eyes, and he questions what lies he has been fed to him by the surrounding men. He rips his gaze away, instead turning to assess the wider room.

Contrary to popular belief, Valentino is merely a person and, therefore, experiences very human emotions. Watching Marc fly off his bike, somersaulting in the air before slamming into the gravel, made his heart drop and his breath catch. When he didn’t make a move to get up, a decade’s worth of resentment and pain promptly disappeared as overwhelming fear choked him. However, the guilt that has been souring in his stomach since his run-in with Marquez earlieris beginning to evaporate, replaced by the scorching ragethat only Marc can illicit. Valentino observes how Marc has thrown himself on top of Dovizioso and Lorenzo, his teeth grinding in outrage. He cannot believe his insolence – to act like the world has done him some injustice; to fall into the arms of anyone who will offer; turning Valentino’s own riders against him. He seethes at the thought. How can Marc sit there acting so pleased when he has made Valentino feel this way? How dare he trick him like this?  Alex is standing to the side, unnoticed, with his fists clenched by his sides, hot fury spilling over. Who the hell does Valentino think he is turning up here, after everything he has done?

Valentino glances at Marc again, pausing at what he observes. There is something odd about the way he is holding himself; his usual mask of cold indifference has fallen away, replaced by wide-eyed worry. Marc is coiled tight with tension and has been since he registered Valentino. His gaze is darting around the room, anxiety practically dripping off him. It makes no sense. He does not look pleased, or smug. He is not ready for a fight. Instead, he seems scared, defeated, and even drained, like he has nothing to give. Valentino deflates slightly at the lack of provocation he finds from the group, none of this makes sense.

Marc is still slouched on the couch and is visibly panicking now; his heart is thumping in his chest and his breathing has become laboured. The last person he wants to see after the craziness of this weekend is Valentino. He feels vulnerable and helpless, stripped bare in the face of his adversary and unprotected in his own safe space. Images conjured by his traitorous brain flood his mind: Valentino destroying his last remaining sanity; Marc losing everything he has left; and Marc's friends abandoning him when they discover how hopeless he is. He bites back the distressed whine trapped in his throat, desperately hoping no one notices the choked-off noise he makes instead, but 7 sets of eyes immediately dart towards him, the silence broken. He gulps on his fear, his body frozen despite his mind screaming for him to move. The attention of the whole room is directed at where he is staring like a rabbit in headlights, too scared to flee. In his periphery, he swears concern flashes across Valentino’s face, gone as soon as it came, before he speaks, uncharacteristic uncertainty colouring his voice.

“Marc, I-”

Jorge curtly cuts him off, unwilling to let Valentino land his first blow.

“Valentino, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Valentino looks him up and down, sitting at ease in Marc’s living room. The younger is still sprawled across him and Dovi, looking up with scared eyes. Molten-hot anger once more boils in Valentino’s stomach. He does not understand what elicits such a strong reaction; whether it is the presence of Lorenzo or the way Marc is all over the pair of retired riders. Although, why would he be angry about that? It is none of his business who Marc screws. He scoffs, his face contorting into harsh, livid lines. All his intentions for politeness are forgotten. But Jorge knows his old rival too well not to see what is going on, and he can’t allow that. He pushes Marc towards Dovi, letting him settle before he jumps up, starting towards Valentino and talking lowly so that only he can hear.

“Don’t you dare, he has every right to move on, you don’t give a shit about him. Don’t pretend you do. He’s wasted enough of his life over you when you went out of your way to ruin him”

Who said a little jealousy wasn’t good to make sure someone knew what they were missing? Valentino's jaw hits the floor, astonishment and fury pouring over him like gasoline to a fire.

“Move on? Move on from what? I don’t care what the hell the bastard does in his spare time, I just want him to leave my boys out of it.  Get out of my way Lorenzo”

The heightened emotions leak into their voices, louder than intended, grabbing the interest of the others. Alex stands up, coming to stand next to Jorge. Marc’s face has shuttered at Valentino’s words. Luca and Pecco also make a start towards Vale but are halted by Jorge’s hand. Alex beat them all to it, swearing up a storm in Catalan.

“Vés a cagar a la via, puto desgraciat!”

Marc is staring at his brother with shock written across his face, he has never heard him sound so furious. Alex pays no mind, his wrath directed at Valentino.

“Puto imbècil de merda!”

Most of them have no idea what he is saying, but they can gather that isn’t exactly polite. Jorge looks torn between laughter and dismay. Alex collects himself enough to seethe once more in Valentino’s direction, in English this time, so he can understand.

“You bastard. You absolute bastard. How dare you turn up here and start acting so self-righteous. I hate you. You ruined everything. I almost lost him. We all almost lost him-”

Alex chokes on his next words, emotions overwhelming him. There are tears in his eyes which he furiously wipes at as he turns towards Jorge, gesturing for him to continue, before he slinks across the motorhome and through the door to the bedrooms. Valentino shakes himself from his stupor, astonished by the outburst.

“Is he always so dramatic-”

He never gets to finish that sentence as Jorge interrupts him, truly fed up with his nonchalance and refusal to see the truth.

“No, no, you listen here, you bastard. You didn’t have to watch him break down in your arms because of the things people have been saying. You didn’t have to watch him cling to the only people he had left for him because you took everyone else away. You left, walked out, left him broken, and let everyone else pick up the pieces of your mess. Fuck you, Valentino. Fuck you and your stupid denial and your ability to make your own problems everyone else’s.”

Vale stands silently, indignance rising inside him, rendered speechless by Jorge and Alex’s outbursts. He glances at Marc, who has masked his face into the perfect picture of media calm, only a slither of his previous panic shines through. His eyes look far away as if he is barely conscious of the chaos around him. He pushes the thought to the side.

“What the fuck? What did you just say? He lost me my tenth. We all know that I just told it as it was.”

He looks towards his academy boys, who all refuse to meet his eyes. It only makes him madder, a little hysterical at the idea that they too had been corrupted.

“No, we fucking don’t. Ask yourself Vale, what the hell would Marc gain from helping me over you? Why would he do that? He loved you, not me. You’ve clouded your own brain with lies and conspiracies and you’ve forgotten the truth. Marc did fuck all apart from trying to win.”

Marc reacts to that, grimacing from his seat, looking between Jorge and Valentino with barely concealed panic. Valentino gives him a side-eyed look and scoffs.

“Love? Yeah right, the only thing Marquez loves is his bike and winning. But maybe he wanted you more than me?”

“You’re kidding? Jesus Valentino, you’re so dense”

“Well, we all know he slept with half of the grid after Sepang, so it isn’t a giant leap.”

Alex growls at that; Valentino isn’t sure when he re-entered the room, but now he whips around towards Vale but is held back by Pecco. Jorge is panting now, seething with anger. Dani grabs his hands rubbing it comfortingly and pulls him back from Vale as Marc goes to stand, slightly wobbly on his feet.

“So that’s what you think of me huh? Do you think I’m some whore who won the championship for Jorge so I could sleep with him? Do you think I’m an attention seeker? A dangerous rider? That I’ve ruined this sport?”

Valentino watches him in silence, there is something off about Marc, something he can’t quite understand. Something lingers beneath the burning pride and resentment that he is so used to. His eyes are unfocused and a little lost; their usual warm brown has darkened, engulfed by his pupils and his anger. He somehow looks young, wide-eyed and naïve, despite the fury radiating off him. How he manages to look hurt, angry, and confused at once is baffling. It reminds Vale of that godforsaken photo that was taken at the press conference in Sepang, the one that has haunted him for a decade. When he first saw it, he laughed, but then it made him doubt everything. As the years have gone on and he’d solidified his stance on Marc, it still lingers.

“Did you know it was one of your fucking journalist pals that leaked my medical records? Were you part of that too? Did you take delight in all my pain, or was it just your fans? They never could let 2015 go, a little bit like you I suppose.”

Marc spits it out, venom burning his tongue. The room goes silent. Alex turns to him, just as shocked as the others.

“si, the team told me earlier, I couldn’t tell anyone yet, there’s no official confirmation, and frankly I didn’t want to face it. We’ve kept it quiet for your sake Valentino, but maybe we shouldn’t have. After all, you didn’t give a shit when they broke into my house and threatened my family. You didn’t give a shit when I almost died. Why would you care now? You always have had a sway with the media, no doubt they would find a way to spin this in your favour. A few choice words and all would be forgotten. Yes?”

Valentino looks like the floor has fallen out from underneath him. Pecco sits back down heavily as disbelief colours the air around them. The room drops a few degrees. Valentino’s face crumbles, the fight leaving him.

“You’re lying...”

Valentino doesn’t sound certain as the accusation falls past his lips. Marc simply laughs a harsh, cruel thing.

“Why would I lie about this? Let me guess, you think the rest of it is a lie too, huh? Did I make that up too?”

“Marc, I didn’t know”

Marc scoffs in response, rolling his eyes at his former hero.

“What didn’t you know Valentino? About the press digging up all my pain, your fans abusing me, or about how you left me back in 2015?”

Valentino stutters, grasping at the feeble trails of what used to be his truth - torn to shreds in the light of the motorhome.

“Go on Vale, say it, you didn’t know how bad it was? Didn’t know that I-“

“No stop, don't”

Valentino looks devastated now, eyes darting wildly around Marc’s face, looking for a hint of lies. He doesn’t find any. It makes sense then, what he found earlier, Marc looking out of it, clouded eyes, wobbling when he stood up. He���s spitting nothing but the truth because he’s clearly off his face on something. He shoots a desperate look at Alex, the younger meets his gaze but doesn’t react. Valentino starts to speak but pauses, unable to force the words out. Marc releases a bitter laugh.

“You can’t even say it. I had to live it, at 22. I was almost a CHILD. I LOST everything to you. I almost died. You took my heart with you when you left, and a knife in My back.”

Valentino chokes,

“Why didn’t you say?”

Marc laughs even harder, a manic edge to it.

“Of course, I didn’t fucking tell you. What was I meant to say? Hi Vale, I know you hate me and think I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you and the sport but I’m actually in hospital and I want to die. Just thought I’d let you know.

How about this? Valentino, I'm in love with you but actually, I've overdosed and in about ten minutes my brother will find me half-dead. But I thought you should know what you meant to me”

And God the aim was true on that one, Valentino gasps for air, clutching at any defence he can find.

“You were on track with a death wish? It’s not like I was wrong then”

The room startles at that, shocked by his cruelty. Luca puts his face in his hands, muttering obscenities under his breath in Italian as Pecco shoots daggers at his mentor. Dovi honest to God growls, prowling towards Valentino, but is stopped by Dani who is also glaring at the oldest Italian. Alex turns and punches the wall. Hard.

“Really? That’s what you’ve taken from this?”

Valentino seems to wake up to the room’s atmosphere then, realising the stupidity of his statement. He sensibly decides not to elaborate further on that point. Jorge begins to speak, hoping to put an end to the madness but Marc stops him. Now that he’s started laying it out, he can’t stop gutting himself in front of Valentino.

“Shocker but being suicidal doesn’t mean I tried to take myself or anyone else out in style on race day. Well, I certainly didn’t try to kill anyone else. I know you have convinced yourself that I am the devil, that I am dangerous. I can see that you will never change your mind. But you do not get to come here and pretend I have done something wrong by protecting the small amount of will to live I had left by avoiding you. Did you want me to call? In 2015? 2016? You would have loved to hear that you’d broken me. All I did was sleep and cry and be forced to eat when all I wanted to do was stop living. Do you think I should have messaged when I was riding through agony in 2020-2021? Maybe I should have asked you to take me back because I was in so much pain that I was abusing the medication. Do you like my humiliation? Is it some twisted game to you?”

It is then that the final piece of the puzzle falls into place. Valentino realises several truths at once.

Marc had been crying before he had entered and probably for quite some time considering his red-rimmed eyes, filled with hurt. It makes him wonder whether he allowed the others to watch him break apart; the thought makes a spike of resentment lance through him. Secondly, it is jealousy he has been experiencing all weekend, staring at the way Marc relaxes in front of Dovi and the other ex-riders. Valentino can’t pinpoint what he is jealous of, but it sits uncomfortably in his stomach, so he decides not to think about it. Thirdly, Marc hates vulnerability more than anything else; there’s no way he is enjoying this weekend, and he certainly didn’t cause it in a fit of attention-seeking. Valentino used to know him well, he doesn’t know how he overlooked that. For Marc, this must be torture, showing so much weakness to the world. He would be too proud to admit it, but he is hiding behind a wall of fake bravado even in his worst moments, scrambling desperately to hold his defences.

Valentino has seen the reports; the vivid descriptions of Marc’s pain make him wince. Some of them he couldn’t bring himself to read, too painful and gruesome to fathom. Marc’s history is printed out in black and white. He knows what they say, and now he realises with sickening clarity that they are all true. It makes him stumble slightly, horror dawning in his mind like the sun breaking the horizon, lighting up the truth with vivid clarity. He thinks about what he’s read, the graphic details of the overdose in 2015, where Alex had found him on the floor of their bathroom at home, slurring and on the brink of consciousness. All of it is written in stark medical terms, including the resuscitation. Marc had died on the table; it rocks him to the core. He rehashes the reports of Marc depressed and desolate after 2015, a chain he wore for many years to come. Reports of Marc on suicide watch and the subsequent concern of the doctors who cared for him. He feels sick when he imagines the aftermath of Jerez, the surgeries and the subsequent pain, the scribbled doctor’s notes talking about addiction and reliance. Words are thrown around like medical neglect, non-compliance, and risk to self and overdose. Tales of Marc riding through agony only to cram himself full of medication the rest of the time, just to numb the pain. It had all happened to him, to his Marc. And when had it become his Marc?

Vale feels as though he is free-falling off the edge of a building, without a parachute. He is struck again and again by the realisation of the truth of what he has done. He buckles under the weight of it, almost falling to his knees. Distantly, he sees his boys staring at him with a mix of confusion and horror. Valentino has fucked up. All those years, he turned a blind eye, chose to listen to his side of things, and ignored everything that told him otherwise. He’s going to be sick. He has lived in his own little world for too long and now it is as if someone has come along and burst his bubble; they have flicked on the lights. The truth does not portray him in a pretty light. The world outside his bubble is cruel and horrifying. He searches within himself but can no longer find any fury over Sepang, just guilt. He still believes Marx chose vengeance, he still thinks he can be dangerous, but can’t they all? It looks different now, it makes more sense and fits with the other perceptions of Marc. The stone-cold racer who will do anything to win. The suffering man who took solace in his bike. His Marc.

Valentino turns to Marc once more. Tears are shining in his eyes; he looks completely drained of life. Vale feels the same way.

“Marc, I didn’t know. I promise I didn’t know, Oh god, Cazzo. Marc, I had no idea. Cazzo. Cazzo.”

“Leave Valentino, just go.”

“No please, let me explain, I thought-”

“NO. GO! GET OUT. LEAVE. I DON’T WANT YOU HERE AGAIN. PLEASE, JUST GO.”

Marc loses his composure, screaming at Valentino. His voice cracks as the tears begin to spill over. He wipes furiously at his eyes, gazing at Valentino one last time before he looks away. As he turns, he says one last thing,

“You had your chance. Don’t come back”

Alex steps forward then, pushing Valentino to the door, with some delight.  Luca, Bez, and Pecco trail after them awkwardly, Luca puts his hand on Marc's shoulder as he passes, apologising quietly. Pecco pulls him into a tight hug, surprising the older man. As he escorts them outside, Alex turns to Valentino, his tone is crystal clear but simmering with fury, delivering a killing blow.

“Maybe you should spend some time thinking about what it would be like to hold your brother in your arms, minutes away from death. I found him you know. I called for help, I took him to the hospital, and I watched the life fade out of him. No matter how many years go by, I’ll never, ever, forget holding him, thinking it would be his last breath, weeping over him. Nothing will ever be worse.

You’re the reason my brother lost everything, make it right or fuck off and don’t come back.”

The younger Italians look devastated as Alex turns to leave, barely sparing them a glance. Alex slams the door behind him. Vale is breathing heavily as he spins around and meets three disappointed stares. Pecco just shakes his head, turns on his heel and leaves. Bez surprises the older man as he offers Valentino a sad look.

 “You’re a fucking idiot”

Luca’s reaction hurts the most, his younger brother levelling him with a disappointed glare and some harsh words.

“You need to fix it. You fucked up. Badly. Work it out, Vale.”

Vale watches Luca’s back disappear into the darkness, despair threatening to swallow him home. Vale stands there alone, outside Marc’s motorhome, for some time. It feels like time is suspended, the echoes of past mistakes haunting him. He really has screwed up, and he has no idea how to fix it.

[thecapricunt1616]

The Bear & His Honey Chapter 10 -

♡ Chapter Inspo: King Of My Heart (TS) - " I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I'm better off bein' alone. We met a few weeks ago, now you try on callin' me, baby, like tryin' on clothes "

♡♡》》𝟙𝟠+ 𝕆ℕ𝕃𝕐 𝔽𝕀ℂ! ℕ𝕆 𝕄𝕀ℕ𝕆ℝ𝕊 𝔸𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎𝔼𝔻《《♡♡

♡ Summary: Winnie + Carm start to see eachother more regularly, Carm tries on having a bit more of a domestic life for once. ♡ W/C: 19,674 ♡ Posted Date: 03/03/2024 ♡ A/N: Its hereee! I hope it was worth the wait, it took me soooo long to edit it hahah - but were finally starting to get Carm cracked open a little!!! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Smoking cigarettes, swearing, fluff, oral (m receiving), speaking of motorcycle accidents, emotional distress, panic attacks, crying, negative self talk, talk of opiates

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ♡

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

When Sugar dropped me off at home, she’d gotten out and helped me up the few steps to the front door of my building. “Are you sure you’ll be ok from here?” She asked, her voice still laced with concern due to my obvious pain and limp. She leaned against the iron railing, handing me back my bag that she’d graciously held on to as she helped me up the stairs.

I nodded, taking the bag from her and putting it on my shoulder. “Totally sure. Please- I promise this happens all the time. If anything, I’m sorry for putting you out. I really need to be more mindful- I’m the worst at overworking my injury. S’don’t worry, and thank you again, Sugar. This was so kind of you to do for me, especially since we’ve only met a few times. And…by the way, Even if Carm is too in his own head to tell you, I can see just how much you mean to him. I see how much you’ve shaped him as a person. You are an amazing sister, Natalie, really” I told her honestly, rubbing her arm gently. 

She pulled me into a hug, her face settling into my neck, and her arms wrapping under mine around my waist, squeezing gently. Just like Carm’s hugs. I smiled a bit, wrapping my arms around her and rubbing her upper back. I could smell the hairspray from when she curled her hair, as well as some kind of Victoria Secret perfume. Such a big sister. “Thank you, Winnie. That means a lot - really.” She said softly. 

“Also- you are an amazing mom I know it for sure, seeing as you’re such a good sister” I said and she squeezed me tighter. “Oh my gosh you are just too sweet.” She gushed and pulled away with a smile. “I gotta go pick up the littlest from daycare, stay safe ok?” She started back down the stairs towards the car. “You too, and thanks again, drive safe!” I told her and went into the entry hall, shutting the door behind me. I sighed softly as I looked at the daunting staircase.  48 stairs. I can do it. I have to do it.

It took me about an hour to climb all 3 flights of stairs, considering I had to stop every 4 steps or so and sit down for a few minutes, just to avoid my hip giving out again altogether, and likely causing me to tumble down the tiled stairs to my death. My hip was throbbing, screaming by the time I got to my floor. I was in tears again from the pain, my hands shaking as I unlocked my apartment door. 

Persephone meowed impatiently and I dropped my bag to the floor in a heap next to her in the entryway, slinging the door shut behind me. “You'll need to wait, m’sorry” I muttered to her and sniffled, limping over to the couch, and using every surface possible on the way there to support my weight. I collapsed on the sofa and kicked off my sneakers before lying down and digging my phone out of my pocket. 

I tried to stop the tears from flowing, wiping my tear-stained cheeks with my sleeves. It took about 45 minutes of scrolling on my phone before I felt well enough to get up, and get to the bathroom. I swallowed one of my pain pills, before limping into the kitchen and putting Persephone's food In her bowl. I moaned out in pain as I bent over, putting her bowl down and slowly pulling myself back up. 

She quickly started eating and I hobbled back to the bedroom, sitting on my bed as I took off my shirt and bra, standing to peel off my jeans from my thighs before sitting again to get them off my calves and ankles. I let out a heavy sigh, one of those post-sob sighs that was more like a gasp and rubbed my face roughly. When I pulled my hands away from their vicious rubbing of my eyes, my fingers were all streaked in black. I must look fucking nuts with mascara and eyeliner all over my face. I was honestly kind of scared to look in the mirror. 

I shook my head at the thought, getting up and padding over to my dresser, pulling the top drawer open and slipping on an oversized blue T-shirt that was Chris’ once upon a time. I plopped down on my bed, pulling makeup wipes out of my bedside table and wiping the mess of makeup off my face, turning on my tv and putting on an episode of Law and Order SVU, something I’d watched and rewatched a hundred times over.

I finished after about 2 wipes back and front of scrubbing, leaving them on the nightstand and snuggling in to my sheets as I pulled out my phone and went to tiktok, scrolling through videos. Every few minutes though, I remember the missed call on my phone from Carmen, what did he need from me in the middle of the workday? I bit my lip gently, going back to my call log 5 times over the course of an hour before finally clicking his contact highlighted in red. 

Just as I’m about to hang up because I couldn’t bear him letting me go to voicemail, it stops ringing but there’s silence on the other end. I listened for a moment, taking a deep breath, my heart thumping in my throat. “Carmy?” I said softly. “Uh- hey. Hey,” he said and cleared his throat. 

“Hi- how are you, is everything alright?” I asked “ye’ - everything’s- everything’s ok. Why?” He asked and I bit the inside of my lip nervously. “I’m- I’m sorry I should’ve just texted. Uh- I missed a call from you earlier? It must have been a butt dial. I’m sorry if I bothered you” I said, nervously playing with the thread hanging off my shirt. 

“No- no you’d never bother me, I…uh. Called cause I-I wanted to um-“ he pauses for a few moments. “Tell you…somethin’ I guess” he finally said quietly. I pick at my thumbnail nervously. “Shoot” I replied, my stomach swarming with anticipation and anxiety. “I…um. I had a really nice time with you- uh…Saturday. And um…I- I realized something?” He said the end like a question almost, as if he was asking himself if he wanted to tell me. 

“Ok what’s that?” I asked and he took a trembling breath. “I…” he said. I could picture him in my mind, nervously tugging on his hair and squeezing his eyes shut to shut himself off. “I…think- that” he clears his throat “fuck I’m so sorry I- I’ve never done this before,” he said frustrated with himself. 

“Carmy” I said gently “yes” he replied quietly. “I like you. And I think you are…amazing. Your sister is amazing, your cousins are wonderful, I- I don’t think…that we should see each other anymore, because- you’re right. If you can’t handle getting attached, we should cut things off before we both hurt ourselves more. But I had so much fun with you, this weekend. But Please Carm” I plead, “please know that this is not because I don’t want you. It’s exactly the opposite, I want you too much- I want you more than you told me you ever wanted this to go in the beginning and I’m sorry. I know that it sounds pathetic. I know we’ve only been together once but I- I fall for people really fast and I could see falling in love with you being too easy” The line was silent for what felt like minutes before he replied. 

“I think that I want you to teach me” 

Silence again, from both ends of the phone. The only sound I’d assume he hears is the scene on my tv in the background. I swallowed thickly, my eyes fluttering shut in thought. 

“You’ve been in love, right?” He asked, the question hits me like a freight train. I took a deep breath before answering. “Yes I have where is this going” I replied softly. “I- I haven’t. Nothing even close. And I know nothing Winnie. You’re so…so fucking perfect - and I know you’re way too good for me but I…I’ve never wanted to be better? And suddenly…I want t-t’see what it’s like. And you…when we were together” he stopped suddenly, the sound of a car door closing behind him. 

“When we were together, that’s the closest thing I’ve ever- no- no..” he stopped himself, I could hear him pacing back and forth. “No I'm not- I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t lay this on you and -“ I cut him off. 

“Carm, I want to know how being together made you feel, please” I bit my lip harshly, my chest burning with anxiety. 

“I’ve never been in love before but I’ve…I’ve seen it? And I’ve imagined…what it felt like, t-t’feel that from someone. I- I imagined it when you were reading to me- a-and. It was the first time…when I imagined being loved it felt more real…fuck I’m sorry - this is too much- I don’t mean…I mean like I’ve never felt it ever Winnie, from anyone. And I know- I-I know that Syd, rightfully fuckin’ so- told you what a sack of shit I am. And I deserve that, and I- I don’t deserve to feel loved… but I-I thought you should know how- how you made me feel.” His voice was cracking by the end. 

“I made you feel loved?” I whisper, staring blankly at the ceiling. “I’m fucking pathetic” he replied. “N-no, stop. What are you doing?” I asked “M’sorry…I- I don’t know.” He sniffled and I sit up. “No, Carm, what are you doing. Where are you?” I asked. “I-“ he snorts. “A fucking church” he said with a light chuckle “a goddamn church” he repeated and I busted up laughing. “Carmen” I said. 

“Come over. I can’t fuck you, I’m in excruciating pain, but I need to see you. And we need to talk face to face” I hear his car door open and close again, the car starting in the background. “What? Why are you hurt? What happened? I’m coming.” He said quickly. I smiled a bit at his urgency “no, nothing. Nothing did. Well, not today it’s just my hip. I broke it in the accident and had to get it fused, and they fucked it up so majorly that it hurts constantly pretty much. I just need to see your face” I said softly. He let out a sigh, that almost sounded like relief. 

“Yes. Yes. I’m coming now, have you eaten?” He asked and I hum “no, don’t worry about it I’ll make a sandwich when I feel better” I said softly. “No- no, no Winnie. What’re you in the mood for, you aren’t feeling good. Let me help you” he repeated my words from Sugars office that night at the restaurant and I shook my head fondly at the memory. “I want a sandwich, Carm. That’s it. Oo- and fries.” I said and turned on the heating pad that permanently lived on my side of the bed. 

“Yeah? M’kay baby, I’ll be over in like 40 minutes with a kick ass sandwich for you, y’okay with beef?” He asked and I hummed happily at the sweetness in his tone “please, oh my god- I haven’t eaten today and that sounds amazing” I said. “I gotcha’ Win’ don’t worry.” I heard him put his phone in the cup holder. 

“Bring a bag if you want, I kinda hated waking up alone this morning. But it’s up to you- and just come in when you get here, doors unlocked.” I said and hung up the phone, I stared up at the ceiling - Sydney’s voice bouncing around in my mind.  You can’t fix him. He will always end up pushing you away.

𝒞𝒶���𝓂'𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱.🧸 

I parked in the alley next to The Bear how I usually did when I came with my car and locked it, opening the metal door and heading into the kitchen. “Yo - Ebra” I said and he looks up from the grill. “Chef? Richie said you’ve left for the day” he said “Ye’, just came to grab some food I’m meetin’ a friend. Can you get me to Italian beefs and fries to go please.” I told him and he nods “Of course, right away Chef”

“Perfect thank you, I’m gonna be in the office just have someone run it back yea? Oh- and put extra cheese on one, mark it.” I head back to the office “of course chef” he replied. I shut the door and run over my chin as I sit down at the desk, Claire’s words bouncing around in my head.

‘ I’m also a spouse, how you look when you speak of her- she’s your wife ‘

Final time. This is the final - final time. If I can’t fucking handle my shit I’m not doing this and this is the last time I ever try. If she leaves, I’m done. 

I nod, satisfied with my conclusion. This would finally satisfy Sugars urge to push me to ‘find love so I can be happier’, to Richie nagging me about “not allowing myself to be happy”. If this fails, everyone will have to get off my back. Because if this fails, I fail. And it will fully prove to them everything I tell them about me being unlovable is true, and they can believe it- or they can continue living in denial that they don’t solely love me because I’m family. 

But the growing lump in my throat felt very unsatisfying at the fact that this conclusion meant, I would also finally know for myself if I was truly lovable or not. So I would finally put to rest the dream of being somewhat normal. Which felt like I would really go insane, I may just go off the deep end like Mikey. At least I’d know, that The Bear could fully run- I would be guilt free. 

My spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a light knock at the door “Jeff?” I sighed softly, running a hand through my hair. “Come in” I said and Tina opened the door. “Special order with extra cheese” she said and came and set the brown bag on the desk. “What’s goin’ on?” She asked, voice laced with concern. Per usual, I feel the tight defensiveness in my chest. 

“Nothin’..nothin’, chef. Thank you.” I sigh deeply. “You’re flushed” she put her hand on her hip. “Long fuckin’ day” I said before shaking my head “thanks again.” I said dismissively and she heads toward the door. “I hope that’s for a certain ginger - I’ll see you tomorrow” she said and closed the door before  I could reply. I blushed, why the fuck did everyone have such an interest as to who I’m deciding to mess around with. 

I got up, grabbing the bag and my keys off the desk, and opening the office door. I head towards the back through the hall “Bear!” I stopped and turn around to see sugar coming up to me, “ ‘sup?” I asked her and she took my arm, pulling me to the back door. “I just…I wanted to say - I dunno’..I don’t say it enough. I love you” she said, and the lump in my throat grew to be unmanageably large. 

“I…” my voice comes out shaky, so I clear my throat, blinking back the tears welling behind my eyes. “I love you” I replied quietly and swallowed hard. “Know that as long as I’m here, there will always be someone who’s proud of everything you’ve done, Bear” she said just above a whisper, her eyes welling up with tears and she pulls me into a hug.

It took everything in me to hold back a sob, I felt emotionally fucking unravelled today. I wrap my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder. “The fuck are you doin’ that for, Nat?” I asked and she sniffled. “Doing what?” She muttered into my chest. “Trying to make me fuckin’ cry?” I patted her back and she laughed a bit, pulling away. “No jagoff I’m just telling my little brother that I’m proud of him. Now get out of here and think about your shit” she pushed the door open, holding it with her foot. 

“Yeah yeah I’m goin’. Thanks for holding it down today” I said as I headed back to the car. “If it’s so you keep up with that girl? I’ll pull extra shifts. Go check on her, will you? She’s in a lot of pain.” She replied and I look back at her, stopping dead in my tracks. “You saw her today?” I asked and she nods. 

“Had to drive the poor thing home, she was a mess when I came out t’go pick up the baby and drop her at home. Like actually crying in pain. That food is for her I hope?” She raised an eyebrow. 

She needed me, and I wasn’t fucking here. I’m already failing her.  “I-it is. Thank you- call me next time, will you?” I told her. “She specifically told me not to tell you she was here- so do me a favor and don’t mention it to her will you?” She said and my eyebrows furrowed. “She- she said that?” I asked. “I dunno, Carmen. Just- go check on her. Ok?” She said and I nodded “it’s where I was goin’ anyway, thanks for the heads up.” I said, putting the food safely on the floor of the passenger side before getting in the drivers side and starting to my place.

I shut my car door, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and starting up the steps to Winnie’s building. I took a deep breath outside the front door, taking out a 100mL bottle of J&M from my backpack, downing half of it, my mouth and nose crinkling up at the disgusting bitterness, the toxic-feeling burn trickling from my tongue to the pit of my stomach

 like mother like fuckin’ son.

Bounces throughout my head, but I didn’t care - the only thing to get me to tell the truth? Was my confidence being heightened by spirits. Sure, Maybe it was DNA, maybe it was unadulterated anxiety- either way if the bronze-poison helped me in being more honest with Winnie? Family habits be damned, she deserves every ounce of honesty I can muster. No matter how. 

After chugging about half the bottle, I stuffed it back in the same hidden pocket in my backpack, before pushing the large wooden front door open and hauling myself up the 3 flights of stairs to her apartment’s floor. By the time I’d gotten to her door, I had the familiar warm feeling confidence flowing through my chest. Perfect. Pure Honesty. 

I knocked gently, after a few seconds, I hear the soft confused ‘bbrrrrowww?’ Of her fuffy cat, circling close behind the door by the sounds of her. Her behavior really reminded me of Winnie, she was warm, inviting, soft, so sweet. She honestly had made me daydream about having a pet of my own for the first time. 

“Carmy? Told’ya it’s unlocked! If you’re not Carmy, come kill me I guess!” Her sweet familiar voice called through the door, causing me to chuckle. I pushed it open, slowly as to not crush the cat behind it. Stepping in, the whole place dark except the soft pulsing light from the TV spilling into the hallway from  Winnie's bedroom.

Persephone weaves figure 8’s in my legs when I stepped in, purring wildly. As soon as I looked down at her, she plopped on her back, doing a big stretch to offer her belly up for petting. “Hi pretty baby” I squatted down carefully, scratching her tummy as she requested, and feeling her purring intestify at the action, the vibration spreading throughout her whole pudgy body. 

“Happy girl” I muttered softly, standing back up straight and carefully stepping over her to head to Winnie’s room. I nudged the door open gently, nearly gasping at the raw, innocent sight in front of me. 

She was illuminated by light of the TV, Her curly red, curly fringe slightly peeked out of the blanket-hood she’d created around her face - it had to be her baby blanket. Frayed and tattered at the edges, an extremely faded, quilted pattern of Winnie The Pooh shoving honey in his mouth from a pot, curled around her face. The stray fabric tassels were nestled up to her cheeks, her left forefinger and thumb ever so gently rubbing the silk tag against her lips. 

She had a little grey seal stuffed animal nuzzled in her neck, and a little pastel bear in the crook of her arm. I smiled slightly, feeling Persephone brush against my legs. She pushed the door wide open with a *creak*, as if she pays bills or something - blowing up my spot in the hallway admiring her, peacefully just existing. She didn’t even blink until the cat catapulted carelessly onto her stomach, her gaze on the TV being broken suddenly, slightly groaning at the cat's pounce “Jesus Seph” she groaned softly, sitting up slightly, her blanket cage falling below her head. 

The bear falls out of her arm onto the bed as saw me in the doorway, sitting up further, and the cat rolling onto the bed carelessly next to her with a small whine. “Carmy!” she said happily.

I could crumple into the floor at the sound of her honey-like voice. Instead, the alcohol well meeting my inhibitions by now due to my strenuous walk-up - took honus over my mouth. “Y’re too cute” I smiled a bit, coming up to her side of the bed, sitting where I saw her feet were tucked so I wouldn’t crush her by mistake. “Dinner, from Carmen’s hospital, this time” I joked. 

Sephy pads over carefully on the bed, sniffing the container as I take it out, setting it next to Winnie’s blanketed lap. “Aht! Not for little kittens” I teased, scratching her chin gingerly. Winnie sat up fully against the headboard, setting the container to her right on the empty spot on the bed. “Kisses, now - I fuckin’ missed you.” She said, puckering her plump glistening lips adorably. 

 “Where d’you hurt? I don’t wanna make it worse f’you, honey” I asked. She smiled lazily, “I took my pill a’few hours ago, I’m numb, kissy’s please” she pleaded, and outstretched her arms for me cutely. My chest tightened momentarily at the mention of narcotics, but I easily swallowed it down with the aid of the alcohol, leaning in and kissing her deeply. I swiped my tongue over her lips, causing her to open her mouth nearly on instinct. I sigh out in satisfaction at the taste of her vanilla chapstick. She hummed sweetly, hooking her arms around my neck like a little Koala-bear, tugging herself closer to me, our chests touching. 

I rubbed the small of her back soothingly, gently pushing her large t-shirt up to expose her panties, rolling the thin stretchy elastic hem back and forth between my fingers. After a few minutes of heavy petting, deep kissing, and soft kitten-like moans from her, when her hands finally found their way under my sweater, the tips of her nails stroking my midsection in a way that set my soul on fire-  I broke our lips apart slightly, a small, thin string of our mutual desire connecting us until I spoke. “S’time f’you to eat, princess, y’feelin any better, what caused this mm’?” I questioned gently, my hands stroking up her ribs tenderly and squeezing assuringly. 

“Eat, then talk?” she said sweetly, more a demand than an offer. “Course angel, what’re we watchin’?” I took out the box marked ‘E/C’ and set it on her lap, “SVU” she said, leaning over and turning on the lamp. “Hm, alright - interesting choice” I said, getting up and taking off my sneakers, kicking them slightly beneath the bed so she wouldn’t trip in the night, before going and sitting next to her against the headboard.

“It’s my comfort show” she said and took her glasses out of the pink case from the top of her bedside table, putting them on. I smiled a bit, “Y’look really adorable in those, like a little librarian” I said, causing her to blush which made her freckles adorning her cheeks more obvious, her dimples peeking out as she tries to hide a smile. “I am a librarian, 3 days a week anyways.. Did you bring ketchup?” she asks as she opened up her box.

“Oh- no, no sorry- I need to remember that you use that shit like water” I teased “d’you have some?” I set my box down and she does the same, “Yeah-” she said with a slight giggle pulls her crosstitch, fringed blanket back. “No- no, relax, you stay here, I’ll find it, yeah? Y’re hurting, baby.. Did you want me to get you a drink while I'm in there?” I asked while getting up and heading to the hall. She nods, “Yeah- it’s on the door, just grab a soda” she replied while settling back in gratefully. I came back a minute or so later, handing her a can of soda and the ketchup.

“Carmy it’s..I’m fine really- I’ll tell you more about it, but like- This happens all the time, you don’t need to worry, I throw my hip out like at least once a week- sometimes more. I’m like an old fuckin woman” She said, squirting the ketchup into the lid of her container. I sat down, opening my soda and setting it on the nightstand. “That sucks, sorry you have to deal with that- i’m always happy to help you, y’know that right?” I took a bite of my sandwich, watching as she took a bite of the french fry she’d dunked in her monstrous pool of ketchup.

She shakes her head, “I’m fine, really - It’s my own fault. It’s my fault i’m all fucked up anyway.” she took a bite of her sandwich and hums. “ thank you f’r bringin’ this” she mumbles with a partially full mouth, an onion sticking to her lip, causing me to smile in amusement. “Hey” I said softly and she looks over, I gently swipe my thumb across her lip, before wiping it on the napkin that was sitting my lap. She blushed, smiling sheepishly. “Thanks” she muttered softly.  

We ate in silence for a few moments before I decided finally to succumb to my curiosity, “Why d’you think it’s your fault?” I asked quietly, before looking over at her. She met my gazed shrugged, before taking another bite of her sandwich, not meeting my eyes once more. She swallowed, taking a long moment before responding. “Don’t ask me about this - ever again. I’ll tell you one time, and that one time being now because my fuckin’ pills make me... able to be- open? I guess…But uh- I knew he was dead, essentially, and don’t try to tell me it ‘isn’t my fault’ because it fucking was - everything was. I was the one that begged him to bring me, to drive me to my fuckin’ girls house. A girl I knew wasnt in love with me. I’d only ridden like…” she scoffs “3..maybe 4 times? and My stupid, idiot self didn’t fuckin’ realize- I didn’t realize how fucking important it is, to balance your weight especially on sharp turns.” she shakes her head, setting her sandwich down and closing her eyes tightly.

“This- this fucking dickhead - in a huge pickup truck, he was up our ass - Chris had cut ‘em off like a mile back because he was going slow as shit- and Chris was the kind of fucker that was petty- h-he…. He slammed on his breaks a few times y’know? Like- like break-checkin’ ‘em to give ‘em I guess a taste…of-of being stuck behind someone. I should’ve known- I- I should’ve known he was…he-he- Chris was gonna whip into the next lane and dart around the sedan in front of us - but I…I- I didn’t- s-so I-I didnt lean. I didn’t lean. B-because of my weight- w-we… the front tire flipped in, Chris flew- h-he…” she takes a shaking breath. 

“He- he- he got….he hit the windshield of the car in front of us, the fucking sound Carmen- the-the-the bike slid under me, m-my hip- my fucking bone was ground in to the pavement from how far I was dragged. The poor woman in-in-in the sedan d-driving behind us- oh fuck-” she started laughing wildly, but the sound was numb. “Fuck” she looks at me,large- thick tears pooling behind her big hazel eyes. But yet a large, dry smile was plastered among her features. “The sheer force of being hit by a car- my god, when my head hit the pavement? I thought I’d exploded. Like- like I fuckin’ burst into confetti!” she laughs again, a cold, emotionless laugh while shaking her head, wiping her face over with rough hands. It was like everything she felt from this was so intensely painful, that all she could do was laugh or she’d go in to psychosis. I know I’d feel that way if I went through that with Mikey.

I swallowed thickly as she continued. “He-He was- I knew- I-I-I knew Carmen that he was dead-but- b-but- but- I h-had to…had- t- I-I-I had t-t-to see..to see him Carmen- I- y-you know? T-to b-be sure” she heaves out between violent, shaking sobs. Her entire body was trembling with fear, with sadness, with grief. Tears pooled behind my own eyes at the pure agony radiating off of her and I kissed her forehead gently “m’ so fuckin sorry honey” I muttered in to her temple, unsure if anything could console her in this moment. 

She continued, breath heaving as she attempted to explain “you know in-I-in T-TV when someone is- a-a-about to die, and -“ she gasped down a large, shaking breath “and theres this ringing - th-thats fucking real. But- b-but it's-it’s-it’s deafening Carmen. I-It.. Your body vibrates with the f-feeling, it- l-like- i-it’s from your bones-” she choked back a sob and I gently rested my hand on her thigh, “Breathe, babygirl, you’re safe” I said just above a whisper, wrapping my other arm around her frame, cradling her, and her eyes meet mine, boring in to my soul. 

“I- I tried-” she squeaked out. “I tried- I wanted to get up, he- h-” she gasps in a breath “he…h-his-his-” she squeezes her eyes shut. “Hi-s…” she hiccups a breath that sounded painful between sobs “his neck- his neck…his neck” she muttered, shaking her head quickly, bursting out suddenly in to uncontrollable, choking sobs. I rubbed her thigh soothingly. “Shhh…shhh- Baby- baby, angel- you don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, honey” I repeated, putting my plate in front of me, doing the same to hers and hugging her to me, nestling her face in to my chest and rubbing soothing circles into her back. 

She heaves in a large gasping breath, coughing lightly before continuing. “M-my hip, my hip. The fucking- th-the bone…I-I- I don’t want to disgust you.” She whispered, shaking her head against my chest. I smoothed her hair down tenderly, kissing the top of her head that was burning hot with anxiety, the hair at the base of her neck feeling damp with sweat. “Win’- you’d never disgust me, mm? I don’t want you to be sick over this. Y’don’t need t’work yourself up, don’t tell me if it makes you uncomfortable, honey”. My hand curls around her stomach, rubbing long, slow strokes back and forth, feeling her gasping breaths rise and fall against my hand as she spiraled into an episode that looked just like mine. 

Seeing her like this was causing my heart to ache so deeply it was impossible to comprehend the hurt all at once. 

“I’m sorry- I-I’m sorry- I-“ she chokes out a violent, shaking sob “I’m so sorry, Carmen- I- I’m a horrible person. I- you can’t- I don’t deserve a man like you…oh god- i-I’m- it’s me Carm. You-you-I’m horrible“ she coughs. I gently pulled her trembling frame into my lap, nudging her chin up with my forefinger to look at me and she finally opened her eyes. 

“Winnow.” I said quietly, watching her lip quiver sadly before her eyes met mine, the rings of hazel nearly swallowed by her blown out pupils, her cheeks red and tear-stained. She swallowed thickly as my thumb presses to her trembling lip. “You-” I start, my eyes squeezing shut involuntarily to try and reel back the tears gathering behind them. 

I took a large, trembling breath, holding it momentarily while I gathered my racing thoughts. “You- Winnie - you are the furthest thing from horrible, I never want to hear that from you- ever, ever again, do you understand?” I breathed out, my thumb running down her chin gently. She swallowed hard again, her eyes meeting mine suddenly, a thick hot tear falling down her freckled cheek and wetting my thumb.

“Stop.” She squeaked out, her eyes fluttering shut. “W-what baby? Stop what?” I questioned, the pads of my thumbs brushing away her tears. “Stop, Carmen- I told you” her eyes opened , gently grabbing my hands that were cupping her cheeks and squeezing gently around my wrists in objection. 

“I can’t do this.” She whispered, tugging my hands off her face gently. “I told you.” She repeated, shuffling off of my lap, sniffling and wiping her eyes messily. “I’m not your baby- I - y-you can’t call me that. S-Stop calling me sweet names” she hiccuped as she spoke, wiping her nose with a napkin- steadily avoiding my gaze. It’s like I could physically feel my heart snap. 

“How do you mean hon-Winnie?” I corrected myself, feeling a hard lump growing in my throat. “You’re too easy to fall in love with” she shook her head, pulling her plate back into her lap and swirling a fry in her ketchup. 

I sighed softly, “that’s- that’s why I’m here.” I said quietly, watching her continue to swirl the pool bigger and bigger nervously. “I’m not a good - I wasn’t a good person, and- and I’m not sure I’ve ever been loved back. I just know for certain I’ve been in love with someone before. And you deserve someone who knows the whole thing” She shrugged, finally dropping the fry in to the red pool and looking over at me. 

“Well…what was it like?” I ask quietly she snorted, shaking her head. “You don’t get it. That? What I did? It was miserable. Being in love with someone who won’t love you back is like- is like…the most embarrassing thing. I was in love with a person that never even existed, it was an idealized version of her.” She said and I raised my eyebrows, surprised. 

“You’ve never- been in love w-with a guy?” I asked and she shook her head, laughing a bit. “The only guy I claimed to love - beat my ass, and it wasn’t until therapy that I realized I didn’t love him. I just wanted him to love me so bad that I thought if I was ‘better’ or if I changed that I could convince him to love me.” She shrugged a bit. I swallowed thickly “he- he doesn’t live here does he? In Chicago?” She shook her head. 

“Good cause he’s a little bitch. I’d never ever dream of hurting you or any woman that way.” I said and she nodded, smiling a little. “Don’t worry…I’ve learned my lesson- I’d never have been around you if I got the feeling…” she sighed a bit before continuing. “It doesn’t- it doesn’t matter though. To love someone… well- unconditionally.. it’s acceptance?” She looks at me. “It’s… it’s to see someone’s flaws, and instead of…instead of seeing past them you love in spite of them. In spite of someone’s pain, in spite of all the people that have ever hurt them- it’s acceptance that this human is not perfect but they’re perfect for you. Despite their flaws, despite if they hurt you. But true love- real love, mutual love, is acceptance, and respect.” 

She turned back and continued eating her sandwich and I sat for a moment in silence, contemplating what she said. “So…you don’t…you don’t think I’m capable of that?” I asked, rubbing my chin nervously. She shook her head “no, no. I think you’d be well capable- but you…you don’t want it. You don’t want to trust that’s like- that’s the biggest part of love is trusting someone fully like more then anyone in the world you come to them and admire their opinion of you so much that you’ll take their opinion of you second to your own. Like they’re the only other person that you give a fuck about what they really think.” 

I bit my lip nervously “h-how do you- how do you learn to trust? People?” He asked and she looked over, brows furrowed a bit. “Uh-“ she shook her head slightly, thinking for a moment. “I- I guess…it starts with being honest- because if you’re honest about how you feel then it shows you if the person is worth trusting. Like…like I’ll be honest, I’m..i’m scared of being with you.” She said and I feel my heart sink. 

Of course you fucking scare her you’re a brute, your always screaming, you shut people out, you push one of her best friends to her limits constantly 

Her voice brings me back out of my head “because…well I see how innocent you are and-“ she continued but the single word rings through my mind so loudly I can’t hear, nor process anything else. 

Innocent…Innocent? Innocent. Why- how, what- what about me is innocent? I’m a fuckin’ asshole. 

“But..yeah. So I guess…I guess scared wasn’t the best word but I just don’t want to corrupt you” she finished, taking a sip of her soda and I looked back at her. 

“Innocent.” Was all I could manage to say and she looks over at me, nodding a bit. “Like I said- All I’ve had is bad relationships, unhealthy ones, you’re innocent in that sense…I don’t wanna teach you bad habits or something” she said and I sat against the headboard, thinking. “In what world could you possibly corrupt me?” I asked and she covered her mouth as she laughed “dude” she shakes her head, swallowing her food finally. 

“Don’t make me choke! Oh my god. This is what I mean- you don’t know me. I was a total piece of shit before I moved here a few years ago. I was a literal massive bitch after Chris died. I just…just came unglued. People don’t like me back home, Carm. I became a shell of myself. My mom…My mom hates me.” she said and I frowned slightly, shaking my head, “That’s- no, no Win, I dont think that your mom could hate you…you’re too- you’re too kind… Just because you may have said some shit after him- I did too, with Mikey. I’ve…I’ve said alot of fuckin’ - just cruel bullshit” I explained. I was unsure if the ache in my heart had to do with seeing her so upset- so guilt-ridden. If that was the case I would tell her whatever about myself to get to understand just how fuckin’ uncorruptable I am.

“No- no she… she hates me. I was always- I…Chris was always the good twin, I was the one causing trouble a-and to top it off I killed him.The only good thing in her life - her only real thing  to be proud of. I-I couldn’t save him, and I was the reason we were out- and I left her with- with all this debt. Then I just… I ran away! I ran. I’m a coward. And I don’t deserve someone like you who- whos already terrified of commitment, even though I’m “different” now? I still am too fucking coward to talk to my mom, because she hasn’t talked to me since I left.” she pulled Persephone in to her lap, stroking her tail between her fingers nervously and she purred in response, stretching back and looking at me. 

“I-” I clear my throat, nervously running a hand through my hair. “I uh- I didn’t even go to Mikeys funeral..I was uh…I-I couldn’t face it” I bit my lip nervously. “So, I’m uh- you aren’t guilty of anything i’m not, I’m used to running- it’s…my worst habit probably, running from-from everything” I shook my head, averting her gaze. 

“Thats the opposite of love, so if you really want to know what love feels like, you need to run towards the object of your desire.” she said softly and held my hand, rubbing over my tattoo with her thumb in long soothing strokes. I look over at her and smile a bit, getting that now familiar flutter in my stomach that was happening more and more often because of how much time we’d been together recently. “Thats why I’m here, I uh- the church?” I said and gently grabbed her small fingers with my own, lacing them together.

“Oh- did God whisper for you to come see me” she gives me a teasing smile and I chuckled a bit, sitting back on the headboard feeling much more relieved she seemed to be feeling a bit better. “Kinda- this stupid support group..well- I thought it was gonna be stupid? But.. it kinda helped me in a way. This um…girl- the head of the group, she said that our task was to see someone you desire this week so uh.. Here I am I guess” I felt my cheeks heating and she smiled bigger. 

“Oh I see, I didn’t know when I invited you I was helping you check off your therapy homework” she teased and rested her head on my shoulder, the smell of her coconut shampoo hitting my senses. I closed my eyes, resting my head on hers comfortably. “Mmhmm- I um…I wanna keep seeing you” I said and she brought my hand to her lips, kissing gently. 

“Good because I want to keep seeing you, as long as we can both be honest with each other and not run away.” She said, kissing each one of my knuckles gently. I smiled at the sweet gesture. “I can’t promise I won’t…but I’m gonna do everything I can to tell you how sorry I am when it happens” I watched as she examined my hand, finger gently brushing over the large scar that was still dark even after a few years time of healing. 

“What happened?” She asked quietly, tracing her knuckle gently over the raised skin. “I uh- kitchen. Knife accident. Long time ago back in one of my first gigs” I said, deciding it was better to not get in to why I had done it- I was emotionally fucked out today say the least, and going in to my previous boss was going to be too much to handle at the current moment. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier on the phone?” She asked, flipping my arm over, the pad of her finger tracing over the snail tattoo on my arm with a light touch causing goosebumps to raise on my skin. 

“What did I say?” I asked, watching as she rubs gently over the letters before tracing the veins of my forearm. She leaned more into me, playing with my fingers in a gentle way that caused me to smile slightly. “That I made you feel loved?” she asked. I swallowed thickly, biting my lip “uh- I- I mean. Like I said. Never like- I just imagined what it would like…to be- it…It was stupid.” I shook my head slightly, closing my eyes in embarrassment.  “Well…I loved reading to you. Did you want to finish eating and…we can see what Edward is getting up to next?” I looked down at her and she was looking up at me, meeting my gaze with hopeful eyes. It felt like my heart skipped a beat in the moment, “that sounds really nice.” I rubbed the top of her head gently.

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

“And Edward didn’t fly back into the cruel boys arms, he didn’t fly forward into the loving arms of Abaline- But instead, he fell to the left, overboard the ship. Edward focused on the sounds of Abalines desperate cries as he flipped and soared through the air into the ocean with a large *splash*, watching the ship slowly pass him by as he momentarily floated atop the waves.

He waited for Abaline, he watched the surface of the water go from blue to black as he continued floating down, and down until he landed face first on the ocean floor. Edward waited. And waited. Unable to see the stars he loved at night, and without his pocket watch, he couldn’t quite be sure how many days had passed- but he knew it had been many, and yet Abaline never came.” 

I shut the book, setting it down next to my lap where he laid and looked down at him. His eyes fluttered open and his brows knitted together adorably in concern. “That wasn’t the end.” He said, more like a statement than a question, causing me to giggle a bit. “No.” I said simply and shrugged. “Ok- well. Keep going then, he needs to get back to her before I can sleep” he closed his eyes again with a smug smile, and I laughed genuinely at his perseverance and interest in the story, continuing to play with his soft blonde curls that had long gone frizzy and were more broken waves over the course of his long day. 

“And what if he never gets back to Abaline?” I questioned and his eyes shot open, glancing up at me nervously. “Don’t say that. She really loves him- she’s gonna be all torn up if she cant get him back” he said and I smiled a bit, finding his concern for the fictional child adorable. “Probably true…I would be realy sad if I were her. But it was fair to say he didn’t love her, right? She's gonna go on and find a bunny that loves her the same way- and it gives Edward the opportunity to realize what Abaline truly meant to him.” I gently rub the pads of my fore and middle finger over his jawline soothingly. “I guess y’re right…he doesn’t really deserve her” he muttered, his eyes fluttering shut at my touch, and sighing softly through his nose. 

“No, it’s not about Edward being deserving of love. For her, It’s about letting someone go that didn’t appreciate her, and for him it’s about learning to appreciate what he has, while he has it- and telling them.” I trace the veins of his neck with a light touch, feeling his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. After a few moments of gently stroking his face he looks up at me. “It feels really good when you do that” he said just above a whisper and a small smile graced my lips. 

“Yeah? My gram used to do this to help me fall asleep.” I said and he hummed. “Mm..’s makin’ me sleepy.” He said, covering his mouth as he yawned before looking up at me. “I don’t wanna wake you up t’morrow. I get up really early.” He said and I ran my hand through his hair again, scratching his scalp gently. 

“Taylor’s in Australia- it’s her last night there, so I’ve been up early like- almost every day this weekend other then Friday when you slept over” I explained and he chuckled, shaking his head a bit, closing his eyes as he rested his head back in my lap. “How the hell are you seeing that?” He asked, nuzzling his face in my tummy tiredly. “Live streams. This girl, Tess. She’s amazing.” I said with a smile before yawning myself, stretching my back and groaning softly at the dull ache. 

“Fuck” I grumble, I should’ve guessed. My period always makes my hip problems worse for some reason. “What’s wrong?” He looked up at me, his voice slightly laced with concern. “Nothin’. Nothin. My back is just a little sore. C’mon let me up - I gotta brush my teeth, and you have to change so we can go to bed, you have an early day” I said and he nodded a bit, sitting up. He took our trash and kissed my forehead gently before heading out to throw it away in the kitchen. I smiled softly at the sweet gesture, standing up and padding into the bathroom. 

I made quick work of brushing my teeth, washing my face, and doing my quick nightly skincare, before slicking on some deodorant. I shut the door to use the restroom, sitting there with my panties around my knees rubbing my face. I should just fuckin’ put a tampon in I already know what’s coming. I sighed to myself, annoyed. I’d been dealing with it since I was 12, but the pain just got more debilitating as I got older. I would wake up throwing up from cramps, no medicine other than THC oil I had even helped slightly dull the pain. 

But I still went to work. I still got up and did everything I needed to do, because I didn’t have the money to call out sick. Even though I would this time of month be in the bathroom throwing up through tears every few hours due to the pain before I started with the heaven sent THC oil. One time I even passed out on the floor (thank god for my embarrassment, we had just closed so no customers came in the bathroom, and I came to before Mel got concerned and came to check on me). 

I grabbed a tampon from the basket sitting atop the back of the toilet, throwing the empty applicator in the garbage before flushing the toilet. I pulled my panties up and washed my hands before opening the medicine cabinet, grabbing my Nauzene, Dramamine, and RSO syringe, before walking back out and putting them on my nightstand. Carm was already there, laid over the covers shirtless in his dark grey sweatpants. I smiled a bit at the beautiful sight. “can we cuddle?” I asked, turning on my fairy lights I left on at night and turning off the lamps, the room becoming much more cozy and comforting.

“Course” he got up, pulling back the duvet for us, before settling back in. I plugged my phone in on the nightstand, clicking on my white noise machine to play my rain sounds before sitting down on the bed. I pulled open the top draw of my nightstand, massaging in some of my milk and honey hand cream in to my arms and hands, before opening my jar of melatonin and taking 2 of the capsules. “Got a pharmacy over there?” He teased with a small smile, motioning to my nightstand with all my medicines waiting for me. I blushed a bit, “yeah I- uh. I get…sick? Sometimes…at night. Just being prepared in case.” I said, rubbing the extra lotion on my elbows before sitting criss- cross next to him. 

“Lay back like you did last time, I liked snuggling like that your hands are warm.” I said and he smiled softly, “yes ma’am” he joked with a smile, laying his left arm out for me once he got settled in. I laid down, bringing my leg up to straddle his waist comfortably and nuzzling my face into his neck, draping my hand over his chest. He rubs my back in slow, long, soothing strokes. “Can I- uh..can I..ask you something” he said softly and I looked up at him, to see him looking at the ceiling with his other arm propped behind his head and the pillow, his forehead wrinkled in the way that told me he was thinking about something intently.. 

“Anything” I replied, my hand resting over his racing heart, and my thumb rubbing small, gentle circles into his skin. “I went to uh..that support thing this afternoon. And the therapist- she said…she said therapy like- hurts before it helps. Is that…is that true?” He asked. I hummed in understanding, resting my cheek on his chest. 

“Yup. It hurts like a bitch to start with. But think of it like…like if you broke a bone and never set it, and it healed that way? You’d have to rebreak it, and the healing process is always worse the second time ‘cause there’s all the scar tissue but it heals way stronger. And you fully know the injury after healing it correctly, so you better know what triggers it and stuff. ” I said, gently running my fingertips along his ribs. His hand found his way under my shirt, rubbing my lower back gently with his palm, before his fingers stopped at the hem of my panties, tucking his the tops in the top of the band without thought. 

“Is it even worth it” he asked, gently stretching the elastic hem with his fingers absentmindedly. “Mmhmm..for sure. It’s never linear though, if you press on a scar hard enough even if it’s healed it’ll hurt.” I explained. “So…I’ll never be really happy? Fully anyway…Even if I went through all this therapy shit?” He muttered.

“Happiness also isn’t linear, Carm. No one is happy all the time. But you can be generally happy with your mental state, if you do the work in therapy. And it’s work. It’s like-“ I look up at him and he meets my eyes. “You’re fucking depressed, Carm. I am, we all are in this fucked up world. It’s like…an active effort to be happy, because our default if you’re a good person which you are is…sad. Sad for everything around us. For the shit we have to face. But- we can do things that bring more happiness to our lives, keep people around that make us happier. And it just means when we get down, that when we feel good we’ll be even more grateful and it’ll feel even more magical” I said and kissed his chest gently, resting my cheek back down against his skin and goosebumps raised under my flesh. 

“Mm…never thought ‘bout it like that, I guess…” he said quietly, gently squeezing my waist. I found the remote under the hem of the blanket before I turned off the tv, setting the controller down on the nightstand and closing my eyes. I nuzzled into his neck, and brought my hand up to gently play with his curls to help me focus on something so my mind wouldn’t run as I fell asleep. After about 20 minutes of calm silence, when my hand had finally stilled due to sleep taking its toll, I heard him mumble “G’night baby” before reaching down and pulling my thigh up more on his stomach, stroking it tenderly.  My hand grazes down his neck, resting over his heart once again “Night, Bear” I said sleepily, a tired smile forming on my lips when I felt his heartbeat quicken beneath my palm.

 I was woken up a few hours later to the unfortunately all too familiar stabbing and throbbing pain throughout my entire abdomen, the stabbing pain was nausea inducing- shooting all the way through my back muscles, as well as stomach brutally. I tried for about 20 suffering, agonizing minutes to fall back asleep, before the overwhelming nausea hit me at full force like a freight train, all at once. I threw my duvet back in a panic, Sephy meowing in surprise as she flung off my hip into Carm’s chest as I hopped up. I had barely made it to the toilet bowl, heaving up all we’d eaten together a few hours prior, silently praying I hadn’t woken Carm up in my mad dash to not be sick all over my bedroom floor. He has work early, the last thing he needs is to be woken up. 

I wretched violently, my stomach panging throughout my hips and back, everything we’d eaten a few hours ago exiting the exact same way it had went in. The pain in my stomach was heightened due to the sheer force of my heaving and I whimpered pathetically between gags, resting my hot, sweaty forehead on my arm as I swallowed down oxygen after the heaving stopped momentarily. I heard the door creak open, silently willing it to be Persephone’s nosy antics before I heard a raspy, sleep laced voice whisper - “Win? Fuck- are you ok? How can I help?” Carm rushed over and kneeled next to me, rubbing my back soothingly. 

“No- p-please- ahh- stop” I gasp at the sharp pain from his simple, light touch “don’t- d-don’t touch me I-it hurts.” I choked out shakily, messily wiping my mouth with a scrunched up bundle of toilet paper and tossing it in the bowl before flushing the toilet, his presence reeling back all the nausea I’d been feeling due to my unending embarrassment of being sick in front of others.

 “I’m sorry- I’m so, so sorry- h-how can I help you?” He asked as I gently lowered myself onto the cold tile, crumpling up pathetically in the fetal position as a hot flash took over like it usually did after I threw up, my whole body shivering uncontrollably as I sweat furiously. 

“Oh- shit oh my god- d-do you need to go to the hospital what is wrong Winnie?” He pleads, his voice laced with worry. 

I groan as my abdomen throbs with a cramp. “C-carmen” I gasp out. “I-it’s my fucking period. You can help me by just shutting up. I can barely think as it is.” I grit out between clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut due to the pain. “Jesus Christ” he muttered. “Please- please- Carmy- please.” I gasp in pain “Get the-the little syringe from m-my” I take a sharp breath at the shooting pain in my back. “The one on your nightstand?” He asked quickly and I nodded weakly, silently thanking god he took notice earlier. 

He was back in a few short moments and offered it to me. I took it, putting a large dose under my tongue and whining slightly at the potent, skunky taste. “Here-“ he left the bathroom and came back with my pink Yeti water cup from my nightstand. I shook my head “it has to sit” I mumbled, closing my eyes. He sits down next to me, slowly stroking my hair. “I didn’t know it…T-that it could get this bad.” 

I sighed shakily when the pain started to subside due to my heavy dose a few minutes later. “Yup” I mumbled, feeling too exhausted to say anything else. “Does it happen like this every month?” He asked, brushing the hair that had escaped my bun during sleep out of my face. 

“Mmhmm” I hum, gently resting my head on his lap, my neck aching from the hard tile. “Well I’m always just across the street if you need help” he said gently. My heart flutters at the kind sentiment. It was a few more minutes before my mind was clear enough from the pain being dulled that I could form my next thought. “you’re a great person, Carm” I said quietly, and he gently stroked my cheek with his knuckle. “I’m glad you think so” he said and I grabbed his hand, gently kissing his tattooed knuckles. 

“It’s a fact” I said gently against his fingers and sighed slightly. “Can you help me up so I can brush my teeth?” I asked, pulling myself into a sitting position. He got up swiftly, reaching out a hand and easily pulling me to my feet. “You good?” He asked, running his hand down my arm gently. “I’m good. Go wait for me, I’ll be in in a second” I said, wetting my toothbrush before putting on some toothpaste.

In a few minutes I was headed back in the bedroom, Carm was laid in the bed comfortably. “Hey” he said his eyes flickering open when I came in. I sat down on the bed, laying down and looking at him “would you…wanna do me a little favor?” I asked shyly, my cheeks heating. “ f’course baby, what do you need?” He sits up on his elbow, facing me and watching me closely. “Could you…um..like- can we spoon and could you rub my belly? It…it still hurts some.. and your hands are really warm and stuff” I said quietly, nibbling the inside of my lip. Would that be too intimate for him? 

“Ye’ baby, f’course” he laid on his side right away, getting his arm situated under my pillow so it wouldn’t fall asleep. “C’mere.” He opened up his other arm. I gingerly nustled in to him, his large warm palm finding its way under my shirt. “Like this?” He asked softly, rubbing gentle even strokes against my lower tummy. “Mmhmm” I breathe a sigh of relief out of my nose and rest my head back on his shoulder.  “Thank you…” I whisper. He kissed my temple “anytime, baby” my eyes fluttered shut, soaking in the feeling of his warmth into my skin. It really was relaxing to my sore muscles, but the intimacy and kindness of the action made it all the more soothing.

I was woken up to the feeling of my Apple Watch buzzing incessently on my wrist 

Taylor on stage 2 mins.

The alarm read. I groaned softly, pressing the side button so it would stop before grabbing my phone and swiping it open via face ID. I found TikTok- after turning down my burning brightness, before typing in Tess’ account, and checking the time in the corner of the screen that read 3:58. I yawned tiredly, nestling my hand under the blanket, to find Carm’s warm, large palm still resting comfortably over my tummy. I turned my volume down slightly, watching the screen as Taylor took the stage, hoping she was in the outfit I’d chosen on Swiftball before Carm got here last night. 

It was about 3 songs into her 3.5 hour set when Carm’s hand shuffles from beneath mine, reaching up to itch his chin, before rubbing face and he clears his throat, sleepily. “Time is it?” He grumbled tiredly into the back of my neck, his voice deep and thick with sleep. “4:08” I replied softly, intertwining our fingers when his hand found its way back to its comfortable spot on my lower abdomen. He groaned a bit, tiredly “fuckin’ already? D’you care if I shower honey?” He asked, squeezing my hand gently. 

I pouted at the idea of him leaving me cold in the bed so soon. “Why do you have to leave so early, Carmy?” I whined a bit, pulling his arm closer, and cuddling it to the side of my neck. “ ‘cause ‘m the only one signing off on the deliveries, baby.I don’t wanna leave ya’either” he said and kissed my shoulder sweetly. I pouted more “you have a super awesome, capable, smart sister - why don’t you split the days with her?” I asked desperately, and in response- he chuckled into my neck softly. “ ‘cause Sugar has a kid in preschool, and another in daycare- honey.” He replied sweetly. 

I sighed dramatically, “Fine, but can you stay just ten more minutes?” I plead and he kissed my jaw sweetly. “Ten, baby- then I’m gettin’ my ass up, deal?” He said and I smiled wide at my small victory, “deal” I kissed his hand sweetly, and he wrapped his other arm around my ribs contently,, pulling me to his chest. “You really woke up this early to watch this?” I felt his smile in the skin of my neck, full of amusement.  

“Yes really-” I replied. “Some people in this house have important, pressing matters to attend to this early, like cuddling super hot Italian guys, and watching High Priestess Taylor Swift perform across the Globe.” I teased and he snorted a laugh in the crook of my neck. “Mmm you’re right. This is important business, princess” he kissed the top of my head tenderly before yawning. 

“Y’didn’t wake up last night - “ I mentioned gently, “well…other then my fault- sorry ‘bout that again. But…I’m glad you weren’t sick cause of a nightmare or s’mthin” I said quietly, my glance shifting to his hesitantly. 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, clearly just noticing himself. “Oh- shit. Yea...Y’re right-. Don’t be sorry, babe- it’s ok” he rubbed my ribs and sweetly and squeezed affirmingly. “Maybe you should sleep over more often,then..” I smiled a bit, leaning in and pecking his lips tenderly. “Maybe I should '' he said softly, brushing his hair from his eyes. “how ‘bout I bring you some lunch, mm’ princess? You’re always comin’ to see me.. I can come to you for once, Y’re workin’ right?” He asked softly and I nodded. “I’m on 11-6. I’d love that, honestly, not much of a selection f’r lunch here to take.” I said with a smile and he nodded a bit. 

“What time’s good?” He runs his hand down my side, gently rubbing his palm over my hip before squeezing the flesh gently. “3…maybe 3:30- that seems like our time, yeah?” I smiled and his hand runs down under my bum, cupping the flesh and squeezing a bit.. “I like that. Our time.” He said and my eyes darted to the screen quickly as the Fearless chords started, and Taylor came out in her ‘Fearless’ era outfit. 

“Damn it! Fuckin bitch” I mutter to myself, causing him to laugh, his hand travelling back up to my waist. “What did she do to you?!” He questioned “fuckin! I voted that she was gonna wear her gold noodle dress so of course she comes out in the fringe gold one!! I swear I haven’t won Swiftball once” I huffed and he shook his head slightly, laughing at my dramatic reaction. “What in the hell is that?” He asked and I looked back at him “the Swifties! We all make bets on the outfits she wears on stage, and whoever gets the closest wins- like the powerball” I explained and he snorted, shaking his head lightly. 

“I gotta shower, angel. You keep tallying up your Taylorball f’r us, mm?” he got up, padding to the bathroom and flicking on the light. “Swiftball!” I called after him, hearing him chuckle as he shut the bathroom door. I laid there for about 10 more minutes watching my phone, before grabbing it and going out into the kitchen. I took out the bear mug for Carmy, and a hello kitty mug for myself, starting his cup first. I remembered how he said he liked it, mixing it together and I heard the bathroom door open just as I was rinsing the spoon in the sink. 

I came back, nudging the bedroom door open with my hip, to see him pulling on his loose jeans over his boxers, hair still wet from the shower, a few beads of water dripping down his chest. I could have dropped both the cups at the gorgeous sight in front of me. “Hey” he said pulling me from my dirty thoughts. “You’re too sweet- y’didn’t have to make me coffee” he said and I smiled a bit, padding over carefully and handing him his cup. “Well you don’t have time for breakfast so…guess it’s the next best thing” I put my phone on the bed, carefully sitting down criss cross. 

He took a sip, humming in satisfaction “Mm, it’s really good babe, thanks” he set it down on the dresser, pulling a plain white shirt out of his bag that I usually saw him in and smiling a bit to myself as I watched him pull it over his head. “You’re cute” I said softly and he snorted through his nose softly in amusement. “You are sleep deprived from staying up until 1 am, and then waking up at 3 and again at 4 to watch Taylor.” He countered, grabbing his mug and sitting down next to me. 

“Oh sure you’re one to talk about sleep deprivation” I teased, grabbing my phone and setting it in my view. “It’s different for me because I’m used to it. It’s just how I operate. I don't need to sleep” he shrugged and I laughed. “Mmm- so not only are you one of the best chefs in the world- you also are the first animal to not need sleep? I really won the genetic lottery with you our kids are gonna be superhero’s” I joked, and he nearly chokes on his coffee. 

“You want kids?” He asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I-I mean…maybe? If I’m..able to have them…I have a lot of…plumbing issues I guess” I said, turning my attention back to my cup. “I’d be a horrible father.” He said and I looked back at him, furrowing my brows. “No, you would not be, Carmen. Why do you say that?” I asked and he rolled his eyes. “Please Winnie. One thing at a time. I can’t even imagine myself dating someone on a regular basis…” he said and I felt my cheeks heat, nodding quickly. 

“I- I’m sorry it…it was a stupid joke. I probably…I was told it’s like a really slim to none chance I can even have kids, anyways so…” I cleared my throat, biting back the large lump with a sharp, thick swallow. “I’d- I’d probably be a shitty mom anyway” I awkwardly laughed a bit, turning my attention back to the screen and sipping my coffee to ease the tension. “I think you’d be an amazing mom” he said a few moments later, my cheeks getting warmer. 

“I’m- I’m too emotional”  I mutter, shaking my head and looking down at my cup. “That’s one of my favorite things about you” he said softly and I met his gaze, my fingers tightening around my cup. “What- what is?” I asked softly. 

“That you…you just say what it is you’re feeling- even if you’re having like..big feelings, and that you aren’t like..scared? Of how I’ll react? Like you just…you say whatever y’re feelin’.” He admitted, taking another sip from his mug. I shrugged a bit “no use lying about how I feel, or what I want- I’d rather someone just rip the bandaid off and leave if they don’t want the same things before I can get attached to them fully.” I said and he nodded a bit. 

“Have you always been like that?” He asked, and I shook my head quickly. “Absolutely not. I used to be the biggest people pleaser. Now I care about myself and my feelings a lot more. Took years of therapy” I said, looking over as Persephone leaped up, and walked over to Carmen’s lap, plopping herself down and purring loudly. “Well hello miss” he said with a smile, scratching her chin and she purred louder causing him to chuckle. 

“Y’sound like a lawnmower, cat” he set his cup down to give her his full attention, and she rolled onto her back, stretching and showing off her belly, causing me to giggle. “Why don’t you have a cat?” I questioned and he shrugged, petting her soft chest gently. “I dunno…never really thought about it before. I’m never home I guess, so not really sure it’d be fair” he said and she started licking his finger gently, causing him to gasp lightly and look over to me. 

“She’s kissing me” he said giddily, almost giggling as she licked over his tattoos. I felt my heart flutter, feeling so enamored by seeing the softer side of him. “Mmhmm, she thinks you’re her baby I guess, she does it to me too even though I am the mother here” I stroked her tail gently and she looks at me giving a sassy ‘brrrow’ before getting up and settling in to his side, where I couldn’t pet her. 

“Wooooow” I laughed. “You takin’ ‘er? Seems like she’s found a new bestie” I joked, causing him to chuckle. “Are you gonna be my new kitchen kitty, Persephone? Mm? I’m sure the customers would love you” he cooed, stroking her back gently. “You’re just too cute- but I gotta get goin’ little fluff, you make it really hard to get outta here I just wanna lay here and cuddle you all day” he tells her sweetly, causing me to smile wide. He would be a fucking amazing dad. He’s so, so sweet when he allows himself to be. 

“Wait- already?!” I realized what he’d said and he looked over “ye’ babe m’ sorry. But 3 right? I’ll be by the store for ya’?” He grabbed my hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing my fingers. “Yeah” I said and pouted a bit. “Here let me give you your coffee to go” I leaned over him, pecking his lips before grabbing his half full mug of coffee from the nightstand and heading to the kitchen.  

I put it in the microwave so it would be hot for him again, getting out my pale green yeti adorned with different stickers from camping trips and I Sadie had taken, and filling it with the once again steaming coffee, sprinkling a little cinnamon on top before closing the lid and coming back to see he’d already gotten his bag together and was dangling one of Sephys toys chuckling a bit whenever she’d dive up to grab it and miss. “Hey- thanks by the way” he said with a smile, taking the cup when I offered it to him and he flings the mouse he’d been teasing her with in the hallway and she darts after it like a bat out of hell causing him to chuckle lightly. 

“I hate that you have to leave so soon” I come and straddle his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and wrapping myself around him like a koala. He chuckled a bit “2 clingy girls in the morning huh?” He teases as Persephone comes back, dropping the mouse at his feet and meowing, begging him to throw it again. “Well when we have the sexiest chef in all of Chicago here, how can we not be?” I kissed him, playing with his damp curls gently. 

His hand trailed up the back of my shirt, rubbing over the scar that went down the side of my ribs and hip gently, leaving a warm trail of goosebumps in its wake. I hummed sweetly into the kiss, opening my mouth for him and he took the invitation, our kiss becoming deeper, heavier, hornier. I moaned softly into his mouth allowing his tongue to dominate mine as he reached down and squeezes my ass before pulling away slightly. I open my eyes. 

“Why don't you taste like cigarettes?” I asked softly and his brows knitted together for a moment “uh- I- I..dunno? I guess…guess I haven’t smoked since I got here” he said and I smiled a bit. “Hm” was all I said and a grin slowly appeared. “Hm what?” He asked, stroking the sides of my thighs gently with his palms. I shrug, “dunno…just thought you smoked a lot.” I said and he snorts “I do. I go through like…god. I used to be a pack a day but now I’m down to like..half, why? You countin’ for me?” He teased. 

“No, but half a pack usually says you’re going out like- mm every other hour? I’ve seen you smoke 3 times, maybe 4. Less then a handful, for sure, cause you look really hot when you do it, so I notice.” I said, playing with the tight curls at the base of his neck gently. “Mm” he hummed, looking at my lips for a moment before leaning in and kissing me again, the sweet, gentle kind of kiss I knew that was going to end with a ‘see you later’ so I tightened my arms around him, dragging it out for as long as I could before he pulled away. 

“Baby” he said quiet but stern, resting his forehead on mine. “Yes bear?” I said sweetly, causing his smile to grow. “I have to go, or the delivery guy is gonna leave all our shit in the back.” He said softly and kisses my forehead, lingering for a moment. “I promise yeah? As soon as Syd gets in I’ll make sure she knows she’s gonna be covering for me for lunch.” He said and trailed kisses down my jaw. My stomach tightened at the idea of potentially putting Syd under more stress for my own selfish desires. 

“Can’t- w-why can’t sugar?” I asked, my voice trembling a bit as he kissed a particularly sensitive spot below my jaw. He chuckled a bit into my skin, his hot breath causing a fire of goosebumps to trail down my neck. “Because Sug is my books girl, and Syd is my right hand honey. She can handle it, I know she can. C’mon baby, up I’m already 5 minutes behind” he pats my bum. 

I sighed softly, getting up and going to my side of the bed, sliding into my slippers and I walked him to the door. Persephone weaves between his legs, plopping down on top of his feet when we stop in the entryway causing him to chuckle. “I’ll be back soon huh snowball?” He leaned down, patting her hip gently. “Take good care of Y’re mom for me if she has any more tummy aches ok?” He told her as he scratched her chin causing me to smile bashfully.  “Get over here you big smush” I said and he stood up straight, wrapping his arms around my waist and giving me one final deep juicy goodbye kiss before pulling away. “3pm, I’ll be seein’ you princess.” He affirmed and I nodded, feeling absolutely enchanted by the romance and domesticity of it all. “3” I repeated, opening the door for him.

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓂'𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱.🧸 

I practically bounced down the stairs, a small smile on my face. What the fuck was this feeling? I continued asking myself that same question as I fished my cigarettes out of my pocket as well as my lighter, taking a long drag. The light feeling hits my head before I can even slip my lighter into pocket and I exhale, blinking a few times at the sensation. 

I’m pretty sure the last time I got a cigarette buzz is that time in New York I was in the hospital for 3 days and they would not allow me out to smoke. 

I also can’t remember the last time I woke up feeling like this. I didn’t wake up on my own bullshit last night, instead it was Winnie who needed my help. I actually feel…clear headed again? For the first time since I’d - left…Winnie’s on Saturday. 

My heart thumped faster at the realization, why the fuck does she have this effect on me? And why the fuck do I have so many god damn questions this morning? I took another pull of my cigarette, thinking back again to what Winnie said. She remembers what I taste like? I surely remember what she tastes like, I mean- I only fucking imagine it when I’m falling asleep. 

I’d never kissed someone as fuckin’ sweet as her before- in every damn way. From her chapstick that somehow managed to always be present, to her gentle, soft lips, the adorable, delectable little noises she makes when I feel her up. I felt my blood rushing the wrong way and my cheeks heated slightly. How fuckin old am I? Jesus Christ getting semi-hard thinking about making out. Get a grip. 

I sighed softly to myself, thinking about the prep I needed to get done at the restaurant instead. I need to double check the order, I need to take stock of the back freezer, that’s where I put that purple cabbage- I could do cabbage rolls I’d bet she’d get a kick out of a purple lunch. I shook my head to myself, I can’t even keep my mind off her for two seconds it felt. 

I got to the restaurant, just getting the back door unlocked as the delivery driver pounded “sorry- late morning” I muttered as I shoved the door open for him and he goes through to the kitchen, dropping off the boxes at the freezer. “Have a good one” I told him as he passes by with a grunt of acknowledgment, the door swinging behind him and shutting with a slam. 

The sound brings my mind back to yesterday, Sydney’s sharp, cutting words before she left my office. “You will have nothing to worry about me, and my interest in your “personal” life - anymore, heard?” 

I sighed deeply, leaning against the wall and rubbing my face over roughly. “Fuckin, give me a break. Can I just get a break.” I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I mulled over what I could possibly say to try to convince her outside of being her boss I wasn’t the biggest douchebag to ever walk the face of the planet. Nothing that I threw at the wall seemed to stick, whatsoever. Especially considering Sydney’s responses to my pathetic apology attempts before. 

You're right. Your behavior was unacceptable, I’m glad you realize that. 

If you don’t wanna be an asshole- don’t be an asshole. 

I actually tend to agree- you do overreact and have a horrible temper. 

I shook my head, going to the back and changing, leaving my stuff in my locker before coming back out, beginning to put away todays delivery in the fridge and freezer. I got lost in the groove for a while, only being pulled out when I heard the door close and lock again. Fuck. I still have no idea what I’m gonna say to her. I ran a hand through my hair nervously, leaning against the freezer door as I watch my breath in puffs. 

I rested my head against the freezer door, tugging at my hair trying to form at least one noteworthy apology I could come up with. What the fuck am I even apologizing for? Like -

 ‘Hey Syd. Sorry there was a lot of weird sexual tension between us for a few months. I’ve been really horny and frustrated since I moved back from New York, you’re really hot, I’m a manipulative piece of shit- and allowed myself to flirt with you for a while, hard- because I simply wanted to peak my own interest and see if you liked me back. Why? Oh just to stroke my ego! Even though I knew I could never bring myself to jeopardize my friendship with you, or loose the best employee I've ever hired, and likely will ever hire - by a) embarrassing myself with my utter lack of sexual experience, and b) risking the ultimate rejection if you didn’t feel the same - and the worst kind of rejection. Because I’m your fucking MENTOR hitting on my OWN employee and the person who runs ‘HR’ if you were uncomfortable? Oh she just changed my dirty fucking diapers. Totally not a conflict of interest for her on who to side with. Oh! Also- I’m sorry for a few months later- sneaking around your back, and not telling you anything when I started seeing one of your friends- even though we were good friends that told eachother mostly everything just a few weeks before I met her- before I went and fucked it up like everything else of course. Oh!!! and this is all to say- I really want to continue what I had goin’ this morning with said friend of yours, would you mind maybe…staying here for me? handling everything by yourself for an hour while I *hopefully* go get laid later pretty please?” 

“Chef? You here?” Her voice pulls me from my thoughts. I took a deep breath, grabbing my clipboard from the box I’d left it “ye sorry” I said pulling open the door, “the uh- finishin’ the inventory.” I muttered, heading over to the mobile order tablet to see if we had any preorders to fill. “I’m um- about…about yesterday” I looked at her. 

“I’m sorry” I said evenly, “I uh- I’m…I’m sorry. Im sorry for being such a fuckin’ dick lately. I deserved it.” I said she she was a bit taken aback by my apology, something that wasn’t too common coming from me- verbally anyway. 

“Uh…” she blinked a few times. “Yea- yeah. Thank you.” She said, nodding a bit. I sighed a bit, closing my eyes and shaking my head “do you- d’you think you can uh…cover? For me? Today. From 3 to like..probably 4ish” I look at her and she rolls her eyes lightly. “Just know if you hurt her. I’ll know. I’m always watching. Yes. I’ll cover for you. If you bring this” she digs around in her bag, handing over a black dress “back to her so I don’t have to make the extra trip. Tell ‘er thanks again. And also- I want my Prada heels back, I’ve been asking about them for like 3 weeks now and she told me she was holding them ransom until she got this back.” She headed to the back to get changed. 

I held the dress up, looking at it and smiling softly, shaking my head. I went to the office, dropping the dress off in my backpack and seeing a bright green sticky stuck to the side of the desk when I bent over. I grab it, standing up and reading over the note, a large goofy grin taking over my features and blushed, snorting through my nose at the little hearts drawn over the I’s 

You are one sexiii lil’ Italian hunk. Xoxo - ur secret admirer ;) 

I admired her handwriting for a moment, memorizing the details of each little letter. Storing a mental snapshot of it in the back of my mind. I took a tack, sticking it to my little post board that was covered in old notices and bills for the restaurant as well as well past to-do lists, and smiled realizing it was the only splash of color on the board. 

I slip my phone out of my pocket to text her, and see she’d sent me a video as well as a message. I sat down in my desk chair, clicking it open. 

She has NOT stopped - she misses her new bestie 🥺 

I clicked open the video, to see Winnie’s freckled legs splayed on the couch in front of her as she zooms into the front door, where Persephone sat splat in the middle of the hallway, howling. 

“Baaaby girl!!” Her sweet voice cooed, bringing a smile to my face instantly “he had to go to works! He can’t stay home with Mama and play mousey all day with the kittens!” she explained to her, to which the fluffball turned around, meowing in her direction. God, the way she talks to her is so fuckin’ cute. 

“He is a busy important man baby,” she said as the cat pranced over to her, standing on her hind legs and sniffing the camera. “Awww you givin ‘em kisses? That's so sweet my little angel, I miss his kisses too” she said, my cheeks heating and I bit my lip to contain my grin.

“okay you’ve told him how much you miss him and given more kisses- he’s got the coolest restaurant in Chi-town to run, now say bye-bye!” She giggled and the video ended. I sat back in my chair, playing the video twice more over just to hear her voice for a little longer before replying. 

Tell her mamas ‘sexiii little Italian hunk’ can be back for snuggles at 11, if mommy is ok with that, that is 😉 

I hit send before I could think about it, mulling over the words she’d told me this morning. 

No use in lying about what I want. 

I left my phone on the desk, knowing I’d be tempted to pull it out any time I got some random notification from my email or news app to see if she’d texted, and headed back out to the kitchen with the mug she’d lent me, taking a sip and setting it next to the preorder till, scrolling through and accepting the orders for the day. 

Sydney was over at her station next to me, chopping grapes for the welcome broth, looking over when I set the mug down. “Is that-“ she said and I looked up from the tablet, seeing her staring at the mug. “Dude.” She looks at me, heat finding its way back to my cheeks. “I don’t even know why I’m worried about her. You’re the one that’s gonna be getting yourself hurt here.” She shook her head, smiling dryly to herself as she went back to cutting the grapes into even fourths. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, the statement coming out a bit more defensive then I’d meant it to. “It means - I know you, Carm. And this is the same bullshit that happened with Claire.” She said matter-of-factly. I scoffed slightly, “she is not fucking Claire. You should know that, better than anyone else.” I rolled my eyes slightly at the mere idea anyone could ever compare the 2 of them. 

“I know she’s not Claire. But I know who you are, Carmen. And the second you fuck up here, a fuckup you can’t just scramble and fix? You’re gonna blame her. And guess what?” She sets her knife down. “Just like you did with Claire, you’re gonna run away- but this time, instead of having Winnie fall to your feet like Claire did, begging for you to be with her, Winnie is going to drop you and cut you out faster than you can even imagine. She doesn’t fuck around with people who can’t appreciate her anymore.” She pushed the grapes into the bowl and wiped down her board with a kitchen towel. 

“She’s different though, Syd, that’s why I don’t feel like running. It’s honestly…” I shook my head, turning my attention back to the till to avoid her gaze. “It’s fucking terrifying.” I said quietly, rubbing my wrist nervously. “I’m…I’m gonna try. Okay?” I looked at her and she nodded slightly, but the look behind her eyes said she didn’t believe it. 

“Give it your best,” she turned her attention back to the garlic she was now mincing. “I also don’t even think you really know what you’re getting into, but hey-” She shrugged curtly “you’re the boss, right” she said, and I felt my chest tighten. This entire situation was becoming more, and more difficult to navigate as it became more intense due to the simple fact my right fuckin hand isn’t wanting to cooperate.

Syd is my emotional rock at work- which was essentially my entire life, so the way she is refusing to guide me is going to cause this to end up crashing and burning, horribly. 

“Jesus Syd. Will you cut the bullshit. Fuckin- when have I ever thrown that shit in your face?! I respect you, Sydney. I respect the work you do here, and even more I respect you as a fucking friend. Yes, I am a fuckin’ jagoff a lot of the time. I have a short fucking temper, I take it out on you- be-because I” she stared at me, silently waiting for me to finish. 

I swallowed thickly, closing my eyes and reeling the words I really wanted to tell her back down my throat. One night with Winnie was fantastic, but it wasn’t so emotionally unveiling that I’d admit to one of my closest friends that I love having her in my life and genuinely believe her advice. 

“Because- I know…I know you are better then I am, Syd. I see so fucking much in you. I’m harder on you then any other person, because I know you could do this better than I could. And I…I know I’m a fuckin’ mule when it comes to advice about the restaurant but- in life? With..like being a fuckin’ friend and shit? Y’know…like…being- being a whole person.” My voice trailed off at the end and she stares at me, jaw slightly open. 

“Uh…” she said softly, blinking a few times, “thank- thank you. Thank you. For the apology” she went back to mincing the garlic and my eyebrows furrowed. “Apology?” I asked. “The first real apology you’ve ever given me. That is how you apologize, you know that, right? You stated the behavior, admitted you know it was wrong, agreed you were acting shitty, were honest about why you act the way you do, and affirmed me that I do mean something in your life” she said, scraping the garlic into the bowl with her knife. 

“There’s a structural way to give an apology?” I questioned, taking another sip of coffee that was still nice and hot due to the travel mug it was in, I’d need to get one of these for myself. She snorted at my response, a smile finally coming to her face. “You have a lot to learn from Winnie. Shes gonna therapy your ass out. Maybe this is a good thing, she can teach you somethin’ “ she took the bowl, heading over to the stoves where a large pot she’d set out was waiting for her. 

“Yup..she’s already started, you can probably tell though” I began taping up the first orders of the day for Ebra at the order prep station. “You think I can’t tell?” She asked and I smiled a bit, looking back at her. “What? Am I that juvenile that you can tell when I have a crush?” I joked and she laughed a bit. “Well, yes. But also- I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without dark circles. You’ve clearly been sleeping better since you started seeing her.” She poured in the onions she’d been chopping before I came in into the hot pot, beginning to sauté them with a wooden spoon. 

“Have you slept over her house? I swear she has like…” I smiled a bit, taping up the last order up on the metal shelf “a fuckin’ method for going to bed dude. Like- she has this..this-“ “noise machine” we said at the same time and she giggled a bit. “I’ve had many sleepovers there. She’s high maintenance with her bedtime routine.” She said and I snort. “Routine” I muttered, walking over to the ice machine and checking the log to be sure Richie cleaned it as promised. 

“That’s probably why you can’t sleep- what do you do before bed usually?” She asked, pouring in the grapes and garlic to cook down when the onions were soft enough. “Uhhh” I think for a moment. “Well- I get home. Shower. Eat a sandwich, then turn on some cooking show and pass out on the couch before the first commercial” I headed back to the fridge to grab a few loaves of dough out for Marcus that I knew he’d be needing when he got in.  “That’s the reason, and you wonder why your back is totally fucked” she called after me. I came back with the dough “no, not really. Just like to complain” I teased, setting the dough down on his station for him so it would proof before he got in.

I wasn’t able to get back to the office to grab my phone and cigarettes until around one, leaning against the wall and lighting it before taking out my phone to see a text from Winnie that had been timestamped at 9:50. 

This mamas will take a sexy Italian hunk in her bed any night of the week 😚 

I smiled, shaking my head amusedly and sending a response. 

What r we feelin for lunch today? 

It wasn’t more than a few minutes of leaning against the brick, thinking about the prep I needed to finish for next rush, before my phone buzzed against my leg again. I fished it out of my pocket, clicking on the text icon. 

I’m SO glad you asked. I've been stalking your menu online all day- I wanna try the chicken picatta, but can you do pasta + extra garlic in it for meeee 🥹?

I smiled at the choice of emoji, texting back with my thumb quickly. 

Gotchu babe 

I finished my cigarette, sliding my phone in my pocket and stepping out the butt before heading back inside. 

At around 2:30 I started making our lunch, “did I miss a ticket Chef?” Ebra asked, watching as I dropped the pasta in the boiling water. “No- no. All good Ebra keep up your pace. This is f’r me and a…a friend” I mixed it around with the spoon before grabbing 2 to go containers for us. 

“You’ve been seeing your friend a lot ‘eh?” He smiled a bit, continuing to braise the short rib order he was working on. “I have” I nodded, setting the containers down next to my station on the counter. “She’s uh…a good person to be around.” I said adding the lemon in to the sauce. “You seem…more pleasant.” He said, causing me to chuckle. “Y’sayin im an asshole most the time?” I teased and he shook his head with a small smile.  “Some of the time, but less of the time since your…friend.” He said and plated the order, calling it out as he slid it down for the servers. By the time I’d packed up our lunch, and made it back to the office it was 2:54, perfect timing. I put on my jacket, stuffing my cigarettes and lighter in my pocket and headed to the bookstore.

𝒲𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝑒𝓈 𝒫.𝒪.𝒱. 🍯

“No no I think we have to flip it” Sadie said and I gasped, “you are so so fucking smart oh my god the biggest brain ever!!” I laughed, turning my phone back around the right way and screenshotting the photo of the cryptic, scrambled, backwards looking letters Taylor had posted on TikTok. The store was empty, had been for the past hour. The gloomy day out wasn’t helping the case of any possible tourists wandering, or our regulars stopping by. 

“Oh my god shut up” I gasped as I read it “stop!! Evermore and Folklores triplet!” I squealed happily, patting her arm quickly in excitement. “Bitch. Oh my god this is insane” she shook her head in disbelief, a wide smile as she hovered over my shoulder reading along as I swiped the next one, doing the same process of screenshotting before flipping the image.

The bell above the door dinged and we both looked up Simultaneously, “Carm!” I said, hopping off the stool and bouncing over excitedly to give him a big hug. I nuzzled my face in his neck, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders kissing his exposed skin gently. “Hey Win” he said softly, rubbing my back gently. I crane my neck up at his towering frame, looking at him with a large smile “guess what” I said excitedly. 

“What?” He asked with an amused smile, looking down at me adoringly.  “Taylor posted new fuckin’ lyrics!! And they’re SO sad!! C’mon-“ I took his hand, lacing our fingers together swiftly. I look over my shoulder as we passed the font counter “Takin’ lunch- if I go over 30 and it gets busy, come get me” I told Sadie. “ Doubt it’ll get busy this time of fay, Have funnn” she said in a sing-song voice, wiggling her eyebrows and I rolled my eyes playfully, dragging him to the back office and shutting the door. 

“Hey” I smiled and he put the brown paper bag on the desk, wrapping his strong, calloused hands around my waist. “Hey baby” he leaned in, kissing me sweetly and cupping my cheek. My heart warmed at the gentle gesture, relishing in the feeling of his rough skin and gently resting my hand atop of his much larger one, curling my fingers against his palm. My eyes fluttered open when he pulled away, and I kissed along his jaw gently. “How’s work?” I ask softly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders loosely as I pepper him in sweet gentle kisses. 

“It’s goin’ ” he ran his hands down to my bum and squeezed, causing me to smile into his skin, and gently graze the corner of his jaw with my teeth, nipping playfully. He hummed “you need to behave yourself- your friends out there baby” he said quietly as to not alert her, slipping his hands into my back pockets, his thumbs hanging in the back belt loops of my jeans. 

“Who said I’m not behaving?” I whispered in his ear and gently tugged the lobe with my teeth. He inhales deeply. “It’s time to eat” he took his hands out of my pockets, spanking me with his left hand lightly but sharp, causing me to giggle. “Someone’s in a mood today” I teased, grabbing the bag and plopping on the couch in the corner. 

“A mood” he repeated with a smile, sitting down next to me. I crossed my legs over one another casually, taking out one of the two boxes from the bag and handing it over to him. “A bossy mood” I said teasingly, taking out my own box and dumping the remaining silverware and napkins out of the bag into my lap, handing him one of the little plastic pouches as well as half the napkins.  

“Mmm…you say bossy, I say time conscious” he countered and I snorted lightly opening up my white styrofoam container. “ooooo” I said excitedly at the look and smell, looking over at him, beaming in admiration. “it looks soo good Carmy, you spoil me. Thank you, truly. This is so much better then anything I ever could’ve brought.” I leaned over, pecking his lips gently and he smiled

 “Any time babe it’s nothin crazy, just my job” he said and I opened my silverware, pulling out the plastic fork. I said a silent ‘please let this look kinda normal?’ Prayer, before cutting up my chicken. “You’re the best at your job.” I said, huffing slightly when the pieces came out absolutely mangled. 

He laughed “babe- what the fuck are you doing to that chicken?” He asked and I blushed slightly, pouting out my lip and looking over to him. “Stooooppp” I whine. “I hate cutting food. I always fuck it up it looks like a fuckin’ kid did it” I said, twirling up a piece of chicken defeatedly with some of the pasta underneath. “It’s not that hard honey, I can teach you if you want” he said and I rolled my eyes, taking a bite. 

I hummed happily at the lemon, garlic, herby goodness dancing over my tongue, and rested my head back on the couch, closing my eyes. “fuck. Oh my god Carm.” I look at him “this is amazing” I said and he chuckled. “Say say that every time I make you something.” He said and I shook my head, going in for another bite. 

When we had finished eating about 15 or so minutes later, and it wasn’t long after that before I was straddling his lap, and we were heavily feeling eachother up as we exchanged needy, sloppy kisses. I gently tugged on his curls, whimpering softly as he slowly ran his tongue against mine. I felt his hand on the back of my head, pulling me in to kiss me harder. My grip on his hair tightened, pulling a bit harder earning a moan into my mouth that caused me to smile against his lips. 

I hummed against him gently, moving my tongue against his, fighting for control. After about a minute or so, he finally let me have what I wanted. I pressed my chest against his, feeling his hands slowly travel up to my hair, playing with the ends gently hesitantly. I ran my tongue against his, thinking about the interesting taste of the lingering tastes on his tongue and trying to decipher them. 

Cigarettes- obviously, lemon, garlic…maybe cape- my thoughts are quickly interrupted with the feeling of his large hand gripping the base of my neck, his fingers intertwining between large strands of my hair and a sharp pull, causing our lips to suddenly disconnect, a short gasp leaving my lips at the demanding action. 

A small string of saliva connected us for a moment before his tongue darted out over his nearly kiss-bruised lips. “What you said this morning about…about saying what you want” he said softly, his voice husky and low. 

I nodded quickly, my core twitching and throbbing, imagining what he was going to say next. I would do absolutely anything he asked. I needed him so intensely at the current moment, that I was nearly sure I would have to change my tampon again from my gushing arousal when he eventually had to go.

“I-“ he took a sharp, quivering breath as I grind against his crotch with an achingly slow, hard circular movement of my hips, kissing and nipping his neck gently, I could tell the friction was driving him insane. 

“Fuck- I-I want you to suck my cock, h-here. Now. Right now” he said, his voice needy and breathy. I bit my lip to contain a grin. “Yeah? Sure baby, I’d love to” I grabbed a pillow without another thought, plopping it on the floor in front of his feet and getting on my knees, tying my long auburn hair back swiftly into a low bun with the hair tie I kept on my wrist for emergencies.  

I gently stroked his thighs, looking up at him intently. I felt the anxiety radiating off of him, even among the thick tension of desire that was lining the room. “ ‘s ok, baby, Sadie won’t come back here unless the building is literally on fire.” I affirmed gently, feeling him slightly relax a bit under my slow, steady strokes up and down the length of his muscular thighs. 

“Y’re so fuckin’ beautiful, honey. Fuck. Y’re so fuckin perfect.” He muttered, I bit my lip gently, tightening my thighs together to try and gain some friction that would ease the ache in my core. “May I?” I asked gently, my hand finding his belt buckle as I wouldn’t tear my eyes from his locked gaze and tugging gently. 

“Do whatever, baby, please.” He gently brushed my fringe from my eyes gently, running his hand back behind my head, lacing his fingers into my hair firmly. My eyes flicked to his belt buckle, my fingers trembling slightly in anticipation as I slipped the leather free, the light jingle of the metal causing my throat to bob in a thick swallow. 

I wondered what his belt would feel like if he spanked me with it, if he would leave marks if I asked him to... 

I gently undid the button of his pants with light hands, my eyes trailing down, admiring his frame, landing on his abdomen. I slid my hands up his thighs achingly slowly, pushing up the hem of his white shirt with my thumbs, exposing his chiseled stomach. With gentle fingers, I led teasing strokes up his v line gently with the pads of my silky digits. I felt goosebumps rise under my touch, a small smirk gracing my features.  “y’know what’d be so fuckin’ sexy, baby? Like…it’d make me insane?” I asked in a sultry tone. 

My gaze didn’t break his as I pushed his shirt higher, exposing his abs and leaning down, licking a thick, hot stripe along the chizled line. I felt his stomach muscles tightening under my tongue gently, and he let out a soft whimper. “W-what baby?” He questioned, tugging on my hair gently. My eyes flicker up to his, a frisky smile on my lips. 

“It would be so fucking sexy if you had hip tattoos” my fingers brush along his hip bones before leaning down and leaving a trail of kisses over each hip. His breathing got heavier beneath my touch, my hand trailing up and brushing over his abs. 

I kept my eyes locked on his as I raked my nails lightly over his muscular torso causing him to shiver slightly, adorable. I planted an open mouth kiss right below his navel. “F-fuck- I’ll think ‘bout it babe, c’mon, it’s 3:29” he said, glancing at the clock and I giggled, amused at his obsession with keeping time.

“Soo bossy” I hummed, “you need to close your eyes, and trust me. I promise, here” I set my phone next to me “I’ll keep track of time, let me help you relax baby” I kissed his hip tenderly. He nodded a bit, resting his head back and closing his eyes. 

“I usually wouldn’t ask- but please” be quiet.” I said, reaching my hand in his boxers and pulling his hard length free of the fabric, pushing his chefs slacks down out of my way as much as I could. He snorted, looking down at me. “Y’know, I could easily revert to my old ways and say nothing when I fuck you, would you rather that?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise, a smirk coming to my face. 

“I love this new attitude you’ve taken on, Bear” I licked a hot wet stripe with the pad of my tongue from the base vein of his thick member to the tip and his head dropped back, blue eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “Y’re so fuckin’ good at that” he muttered. “You have such a nice cock” I said quietly, admiring it in my hand before taking the tip in my mouth and humming at the salty, slightly bitter taste of his precum coating my tongue. 

His hand finds the back of my head again and he pushes firm but not harsh, causing me to sink down a good three inches “there” he breathed out. I stroked the bottom third firmly as he liked, starting a good rhythm as I bobbed my head up and down. I hollowed out my cheeks, earning a soft grunt from him. 

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, his head was fallen back on the couch, the veins in his neck bulging with pleasure, jaw tight, breathing rigid. I quickened the pace with my hand, along with my mouth and he tugs his bottom between his lip hotly, eyes screwed shut. My other hand trails up his abdomen, tracing the curve of the hard muscle beneath my skin. 

His muscles twitched and contracted beneath my gentle touch, taking a sharp breath as I came up and flicked my tongue quickly over his tip and I felt his cock twitch in my hand. I gently pump him, twisting my hand slightly around his length with the firm grip he preferred, removing my mouth from him. “Carmy” I said softly, my hand splaying over his tight stomach and rubbing strokes back and forth over his hips. 

His eyes fluttered open and he looked down at me, gasping lightly at the sight. My lips were no doubt swollen and glistening with saliva. “I want you to look at me when you cum, I think it’s hot” I said and he swallowed thickly, nodding a bit “yeah baby… I gotchu” he said and I smiled a bit, looking up at him through my eyelashes as I took his tip in my mouth. 

I slowly sank down to meet my hand half way, working my tongue around his length as I hollowed my cheeks. “Y’re so fuckin’ pretty on your knees f’me baby” he said softly, stroking the back of my head with his thumb gently.

My core throbs, aching in desire with the added praise. But in my current condition I’d never let him do anything with me, I’d rather just handle it on my own at home. I could not wait to get home after this was over to get some relief. 

I felt his length twitching and tightening in my mouth around my tongue, I lick a hot wet stripe up to his tip, flicking my tongue over the sensitive pink as I worked my hand in a way that made his stomach clench and his hand that wasn’t in my hair was holding a white knuckled grip on the cushion next to him. 

“Fuck, fuck thats it- good fuckin’ girl” he grunted out as he shot thick white stripes of pleasure all the way to the back of my tongue. I hum in satisfaction at the taste and watch as his head falls back, eyes fluttering shut as he pants. I swallowed the hot salty liquid, gently fixing his pants and buttoning them as he caught his breath. 

He continues to watch me, cheeks flushed and pink, pupils blown wide with pleasure, chest rising and falling softly. “Y’re fuckin’ amazing y’know that, right baby?” He asked and I smile proudly, plopping in his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck loosely. 

“So I’ve heard” I joked and he leaned in, kissing me passionately. He hums gently at the taste of himself on my tongue, I smiled into the kiss, playing with his curls gently that were now slightly damp with sweat from the encounter. When he pulled away he gazes up at me. 

“Y’don’t have to swallow that shit, tasted awful” he said and I slap his chest playfully “does not! Your cum doesn’t taste bad, it’s one of the better I’ve tried actually” I said with a giggle and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head playfully. “You are somethin’ “ he tucks my hair behind my ear, smoothing out the back where he’d no doubt made a mess of it. 

I reach up, tugging the bun free and putting the hair tie back on my wrist. “I could say the same thing about you, never had a guy willingly kiss me after I blew him.” I leaned in to his chest. He scrunched his eyebrows a bit, “really?” He asked and I nod a bit “mmhmm” I hummed. “Why?” He asked and I shrug a bit. “ ‘dunno. The only guy I asked just said it was disgusting but it comes from your body so..and I think it’s hot.” I said. 

“Those guys sound like total pussys.” He said, smiling slightly and pulling me in for another kiss. Were interrupted by his phone ringing and he pulled away slightly, grabbing it from his jacket pocket. 

“Shit” he muttered to himself “hold on honey, I have to take this- it’s Syd” he clicked the answer button and held the phone up to his ear, since we were so close I could hear exactly what was being said. 

Carm? Hey.. uhh- ok so d’you know that like cater order that was placed yesterday on ubereats? 

She sounded very nervous. 

“Yeah- everything is prepped and set, all we had to do was warm it up. It should've been gone 45 minutes ago. What’s wrong” he demands. 

So like- I went on the tablet to check on it like to- to double check everything while it was heating up and I realized that it said it was canceled? And so.. so I was like that’s not right and I called the customer and asked if she canceled it and she got so so pissed like she starts screaming saying how this is for a business conference a-and I can’t.. I can’t get ahold of the people at Uber- I’m fucking up- I’m fucking it all up Carmen. 

He closes his eyes as she rambles on, taking a deep breath and rubbing over his face roughly as he thinks. “I’m on my way back, go in the fuckin’ office and take a breather. Someone fucked up but it wasn’t you.” I got off of his lap and smooth down my hair quickly, gathering the trash to throw away while he finished the conversation. “I’m sorry baby” he told me when he hung up. 

I shake my head slightly “No! No need to be sorry babe- Go be the boss, Syd needs you, are you coming over tonight?” I asked hopefully and he smiled slightly, putting his phone in his pocket “I can if that’s what Persephone wants” he teased and I rolled my eyes with a smile, walking up and wrapping my arms around his middle. 

“Well I guess it’s settled then, I was afraid she was gonna wake up the baby a few doors down” I giggle and he chuckled a bit, leaning down and kissing my lips sweetly. “I’ll be in around 12 or 1 cause a’this, that alright?” He asked and I nodded. “See you then, good luck” I said and he kissed my forehead sweetly before heading back to The Bear.

➵ 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

[severalforraelee]

The Girls Part 10: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Photo credit to Manu Fernandez / Associated Press

Word count: 3,151

Written by raelee / Posted June 3

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

The Girls Masterlist

“Can you put your shoes on?” I ask Ada, setting the tiny Converse in front of her. I hear my phone buzz from its spot on the coffee table but I ignore it, like I’ve been doing since it started buzzing this morning.

Someone really wants to get a hold of me, but I don’t care to respond to them. Ever since Charles and Lando left to go back to the Formula 1 world a couple of days ago, I’ve been a bit distant with everyone. It’s clearly noticeable from the way that Charles texted me the other day telling me that I have to respond to him- if only just to let him know that his daughters are still alive and taken care of.

So, the only reason I’ve picked my phone up in the past couple of days has been to text Charles updates on what the girls are doing or to send him a silly photo of them.

Ada giggles, shaking her head while giving me a toothy smile. I can’t help but smile at her back, barely having time to catch Lucy as she unexpectedly jumps into my arms.

My phone buzzes again.

I ignore it.

“Mama, phone,” Lucy points out as I push Ada’s shoe onto her foot.

“I know, Lucy.” I push the second shoe onto the other foot. “Can I put your shoes on now?”

She nods, moving to sit where Ada was sitting. I help her into her shoes and yank on my own, standing to grab the diaper bag that’s also been my makeshift purse since the girls were born.

I debate bringing my phone, I really do.

There is nothing I would love more than to be as far away from my phone as possible right now. Putting some physical distance in between me and my phone would feel like putting distance between me and the problems that are causing emotional turmoil. I would love to have relief from the problems that have been causing me distress for days and to have time to decompress and clear my head enough to figure out what I should do next with both Lando and Charles.

But I throw my phone into the diaper bag, because I know that I’m too anxious and paranoid to go anywhere without it. I always think that the time that I don’t bring my phone with me is the time that I’m going to need it.

Ada’s tiny hand is gripped in one of my hands with Lucy’s small hand in the other as we make our way down the street to the nearby park. One thing that I love about being a young mom in college is that sometimes, I have the mid-day free, which means that the places that we go to aren’t overcrowded with a bunch of other people.

“Wee,” Lucy cheers as I push her in the swing, Ada holding onto my leg for dear life, unsurely looking at the swing.

“Do you want to try to go on the swing, Ada?” I ask her.

She glances between me and the swing, resting her eyes on me.

“Let’s just try it, if you don’t like it, you can always get off,” I reassure her. She nods and I help her into the swing next to Lucy. I give her gentle pushes at first, then slowly pick up the pace, which causes her to shriek.

“Ada,” Lucy says, reaching her short arm out. Ada reaches her arm out too, connecting her hand with Lucy’s hand. The girls swing hand in hand, the swings moving simultaneously.

I smile admirably at the act of sibling love. Having twins was so hard at first. I would feed one and give them a diaper change, thinking that I would be able to sit down and rest for 5 minutes, but as soon as I put them down in their crib the other one would wake up. I swear, they planned it. There were a lot of tears- from both me and them, sleepless nights, and uncertainty of how the hell I was going to handle two babies at once. But seeing them grow up and their affection and love towards one another makes it all worth it. They love each other more than I could’ve ever hoped for.

I grab my phone from my pocket, taking a quick picture of the moment and posting it on my Instagram story before putting it away to push the girls some more. “Mama, sand,” Ada requests. Lucy nods vigorously, agreeing with her sister.

“Alright, you can go play in the sandbox,” I agree, pulling them out of the swings and setting them on their feet.

My feet carry me to the nearby bench that my bag is on, sitting down and watching the girls play with the toys in the sandbox.

My phone buzzes in my pocket with another phone call. I just sigh, leaning my back against the bench and keeping my eyes on the girls. I already know who it is. It’s the same person who’s been trying to get a hold of me for a few days now.

Lando.

I don’t want to answer his phone call. I don’t want to talk about the issues that I have with my family, I don’t want to hear his apology for trying to push me into returning to an environment where I’m clearly not welcome. Truthfully, I don’t want to think of any of it.

My family right now is me, Ada, and Lucy, with Charles and Lando sprinkled in every once in a while.

My phone dings with a text and I intent to glance over at it, just to see if it’s Charles and needs a response. It’s Lando, but his text catches my attention.

Please answer my calls, I know you’re on your phone, I just saw your Instagram story. I just want to make things right with you.

The text brings me back to the last couple of years that I’ve spent neglecting my relationship with Lando. Every time that I was struggling and wanted to call him, confess everything to him, knowing that at the end of the day everything would be alright because he’s my brother and he would forgive and support me. But instead, I spent all that time fearing his reaction.

Similar to what I’m doing now.

I sigh, glancing up to make sure that the girls are still playing nicely before clicking the phone icon under Lando’s contact.

“Hi,” he answers the phone immediately.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good. How have you been?” This dancing around the elephant in the room is excruciating, but I don’t want to get to the purpose of this phone call instantly. I’d rather ease into it.

“I’ve been good.” It’s quiet. “I just wanted to apologize for my part in how we left things. And for starting that conversation when I know how tense your relationship with our family is. And for not being there for you more. I’m sorry.”

I watch my thumb play with a fray on my shorts through tears in my eyes.

“I accept your apology.”

“I didn’t realize that things were so… hostile,” he says awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed with this conversation.

“Yeah,” I chuckle bitterly, swiping at the tears. “They were. They are.”

“Whenever you’re ready to repair things, if you’re ever ready, let me know and I’ll be right there by your side. I’d rather it be me than Charles.”

I let out a genuine laugh at that.

“Although, I will admit, and this will be the first and last time you’ll hear me say this, he does treat you well and he obviously cares about you.”

My heart flutters at the compliment. “Yeah, he’s great. Lucy, don’t throw that! I have to go, Lando, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, of course. I love you.”

“Love you too.” The phone call ends.

Once I get Lucy situated, I sit back on the bench, able to process the conversation and my feelings. I appreciate his apology and concern, but I find it hard to believe that he had his head in the sand as much as he makes it seem when it comes to how our family treated me during my pregnancy. Sure, he wasn’t at every family event, but he was at enough to know that the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. And I’m still upset that he tried to push me into repairing my relationship with my family- he knows that if I have an issue with someone, it’s for a genuine reason. Trying to force me into repairing a relationship that he doesn’t know enough about why it broke in the first place rubs me the wrong way.

But he’s my brother. I love him, and it shows his strength and maturity in how much he tried to reach me to apologize. And to finally show his appreciation for Charles, who honestly doesn’t get as much credit as he deserves for how he’s acted since finding out that he’s a father. I really should tell him how much I appreciate him more.

~

“Dada,” Ada and Lucy shout simultaneously as the interview panel appears on the screen.

My heart flutters at the sight of Charles. He always looks handsome, but today his hair is longer and messier than usual so he looks even more charming.

I push those emotions down, instead reminding Ada to chew with her mouth closed.

“How was your summer break, Lando?” An interviewer asks.

“It was good, I got to see my family and friends and really just relaxed,” Lando gives his toothy grin.

“And how was your summer break, Charles?” The same interviewer asks.

“Yeah, it was really nice, I spent a lot of quality time with my family so it was a summer break well spent,” Charles breaks out his wide, genuine grin.

“Did you spend a lot of time at Ferrari, too, working on the car?” Lando questions Charles.

My stomach churns at the intentional dig, and it turns even more at Charles’ response.

He turns to Lando, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “Yep.”

It’s not the usual response that Charles would give to Lando, considering their friendship and the common knowledge that Lando’s jokes come off as rude sometimes. Usually Charles would joke back, make a little quip of his own.

I can’t help but wonder if this response is because when Lando and Charles left, Charles was still having to comfort me over my argument with Lando. I didn’t tell him that Lando and I resolved things- I didn’t think that it would be something that he wanted to know.

My fingers are opening Twitter before I can stop myself, another driver answering a question as background noise as I look up Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris to see if anyone else noticed that there continues to be this weird tension surrounding them.

And oh, people have.

I close the app after reading just a couple of tweets, not wanting to spiral in front of my two little girls.

I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about my brother and kids’ father.

~

“Okay girls, dada’s in the red car and Uncle Lando’s in the orange car,” I tell my daughters as we get ready to watch the race.

“Dada?” Lucy asks as Carlos’ car appears on the screen.

“Well…” I pause to think about it. “Yes.”

They’re not even two years old, they won’t be able to tell if there’s one or two red cars. It’s just easier to tell them a color and whoever they see on the screen they’ll think is their dad or uncle.

The camera switches to a driver’s partner standing in the garage, chatting with his parents. For a brief moment I imagine myself in that position. One daughter in my arms with Lorenzo playing with her, another daughter in Charles’ mom’s arms as Arthur plays with her.

Charles and Lando have known each other for a long time, so of course I’ve met his family. But that was only briefly and I was introduced as Lando’s sister, not the mother of Charles’ children.

I’m a little fearful to meet his family- I don’t know what they think about me, and I’m not sure if I want to know. They probably hate me for keeping Charles’ kids from him for years.

But I wish I could be there with Lucy and Ada in person to cheer Charles on. I wish I could show the girls what their dad does and have them give him good luck kisses before the race. But the fear of the judgment that not just me, but Lucy and Ada would face terrifies me.

And I’d do anything to protect my daughters.

~

“You’re missing Charles, aren’t you?” The teasing French accent asks as soon as I answer his call.

I furrow my eyebrows, crouching down to grab the handful of toys off the floor to throw them into the bucket.

“Why do you think that?”

I can’t deny it. Although Pierre and I aren’t as close as Pierre and Charles, we still had a good friendship with a deep understanding of one another when I was at the paddock all of the time. If I denied that I was missing Charles- which we both know is the truth- he would harass me until I finally admitted it.

In a loving way, of course.

“Your Instagram story.”

I posted a picture on my private story of the back of the girls’ heads, watching the screen as Charles was interviewed for his third place finish. I was hoping my friends would take it as just a coincidence that Charles was on the screen when the photo was taken, looking mighty fine, might I add, but clearly Pierre can see through my bullshit.

“I need to take you off my private Instagram story,” I mutter under my breath, shoving the bucket back into the shelf.

“Hey, you can’t, I need to get all of the gossip,” he whines.

Despite him not being able to see, I roll my eyes, rising to my feet.

“Don’t worry, he misses you too.”

My feet that are carrying me to my next destination, the kitchen to clean, pause at his words.

He misses you too.

He misses me? Why would he miss me? He probably just misses me because being with me means being with Ada and Lucy. He doesn’t get to spend time with his daughters without having to see me to ask how they’re doing and get updates on their everyday life.

“Of course he misses Ada and Lucy, they’re his daughters,” I clarify for him, swallowing the lump in my throat. I load the dishes into the dishwasher, trying to distract myself by focusing on anything but his words.

“And you.”

My breath hitches at his words.

Every time that I try to convince myself that Charles doesn’t like me, that he doesn’t view me in a romantic way anymore, something appears to refute that. But… Pierre didn’t say that Charles misses me romantically. He could just miss me as a friend, or a constant presence in his life.

But by the tone of his voice… I can sense the deeper meaning.

“Pierre-””So when are you and the girls coming to a race again? We’re in Italy next week, it would be the perfect race to bring the girls to,” he interrupts, knowing that he doesn’t want to hear whatever I have to say.

“I won’t be bringing Ada and Lucy to a race anytime soon, Pierre.”

“Why not?”

“If Charles suddenly shows up with two toddlers and announces that they’re his daughters, the Formula 1 world would explode. Even if we show up not with Charles, people will recognize us,” I sigh, wiping down the counter.

“Show up with Lando, people already know that he’s your brother,” the Frenchman suggests.

“But there’s still rumors about the girls being Charles’ daughters. Besides, Lando and I don’t have the best relationship right now.”

Pierre pauses. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Good,” I can feel his relief through the phone. “I understand what you’re saying, I just wish you could return to the paddock and Ada and Lucy could be introduced to it.”

“I wish we could too, but I just want to keep them out of the public eye for as long as I can. They’re just so young, and being connected to Charles, one of the most popular Formula 1 drivers, they would get so much attention,” I confess to him my biggest worry with bringing the girls to the paddock.

“I am also a popular Formula 1 driver,” Pierre says defensively.

“Did I ever say that you weren’t?”

He’s quiet. “I guess not.”

I glance at the clock. “Alright, I have to go to bed, I have work tomorrow.”

“Charles is still having you work?”

“Try letting me work. He offers to pay for my expenses practically every other day, I’m waiting for him to force it on me at this point.”

He laughs at that. “Good luck with that. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Pierre.”

I hang up the phone, walking down the hall to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth.

I know that he didn’t mean to, but Pierre’s phone call worsens the feelings of guilt that I felt from watching the race earlier. There’s nothing more than I would love than to come to all of the races- I was a Formula 1 fan before I was involved with Charles. And I’d love to be able to support Lando like I used to.

It’s just not possible between work and school, but especially not now with two toddlers. And I know it’s not Charles’ fault for being so handsome and talented, but his status in the paddock definitely doesn’t help with the ease of bringing the girls to watch him race.

I don’t want to bring up my conflicting emotions to him, I don’t want to burden him with my thoughts and feelings. But sometimes I wonder what he thinks about this. I wonder if he would love to have the girls- or all three of us, if I’m daydreaming here, sitting in the Ferrari garage waving him goodbye before the race and giving him congratulations after the race. Or I wonder if he sees the paddock as more of a professional workplace, wanting to keep his private life and professional life separate.

I swallow down my feelings of guilt as I turn the light off, climbing into bed. I can’t crawl into Charles’ Leclerc’s head and find out, and honestly, I don’t know if I want to know the answer to that question. So I’m just going to go to bed.

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[sculptorofcrimson]

After the Palace

Synopsis: Ushotan survives the Palace Coup. 

Relations: Ushotan x gn character, Ushotan x Valdor(implied)

A/N: Here’s me writing Ushotan(because he’s the only Thunder Warrior I know).

It started as lewd, but it moved onto trauma, and then onto headcanon, and then angst and…well. You’ll see.

How is he alive? He shouldn’t be alive. The poison in his very veins, his own blood, his very corpse. It should have killed him already. Ushotan simply doesn’t understand. The Emperor never made him stupid(after all, no fool could’ve made it to the rank of Primarch), not even his relatively easygoing demeanor knows how to handle this unexpected trip from the grave.

(Why is he alive? Why? Why does he have to live? He no longer knows.)

Hm? Rescued, was he? Rescued, like some helpless kitten? Ushotan wouldn’t stop joking about it, sharp-tongued as always, even when being literally bedbound for the first three days. He’s not some damsel in distress, for the Emperor’s sake, he’s nearly 9ft of pure muscle and steroids and rage. 

Thunder Warriors did not have all feelings expunged from them. They did not lose desire. In some senses, they are human, adhering to a primal sense of emotion and affection lost to most Astartes. In some sense, they’re more human than Custodes or Astartes will ever be. Ushotan still retains his affection, his own loyalties, joy, some kind of fear, rage, full emotions and even desire. It’s messy and it’s torn and it’s ragged, especially with the weight of the years and mental deterioration coupled with Thunder Warriors. And desire burns. For all his decrepitude, for all his wounds, he’s still a furnace of light, still raging against the death of the sun. 

To be human comes at a price. The price is high. The bargain isn’t worth it. He saw his brothers, his soldiers, his men die atop Ararat, and then die again before the Palace. Beneath the cold steel of Valdor’s hands and his cold gaze, not once, but twice. Twice from betrayal, once from Valdor’s, and once from his. 

The guilt is enough to eat anyone alive. 

He doesn’t like the snow. It reminds him too much of Valdor. And what that bastard did. He remembers the hands collapsed limply on his throat, the blood pooling through sticky fingers already losing sensation, the scars braiding across his neck like lightning strikes. The pain of betrayal. And the scent of incense, curdling into ash.

He still insists, as stubborn as an old bull, to take those long walks on the mountains. To drown himself in the memories. 

Thunder Warriors always had higher metabolisms. Ushotan is unbelievably warm. He’s surprisingly comforting when snuggling, his temperature always perhaps a little too hot but undeniably pleasant.

That man sure has a tongue. Ushotan has his own insights, and absolutely no qualms upon voicing them. Sardonic, snappy and without even the hint of restraint. Don’t be taken aback if his language cuts deeper than even his sword. Of course, he could regulate himself, but why bother, when no one has challenged him for decades? (And the only man who could harm him refuses to kill him?)

That man can cuss in no fewer than 12 different languages. Even Valdor is impressed. He, surprisingly, reserves his swears for incidents that actually require them. 

His vivacity and energy is astounding, in more ways than one…For instance, have you ever seen a Thunder Warrior describe the inner mechanics of a tank with an enthusiasm not unlike an overgrown puppy?

(Of course, this also applies to…other factors…)

His neural ports are sensitive, and he guards their access points jealously. Try not to poke him there. Rubbing soothing circles, on the other hand…

As a Thunder Warrior ages, muscle aches become a common occurrence due to their genetic degradation. Ushotan, being much more heavyset than most, must be severely regretting the amount of muscularity he has. Massages are as close to heaven for him as it gets. Nothing precisely exciting about a massage, simply the fact it relieves the tension caused by his genetic instability. 

(It’s not even pleasure, only an absence of pain.)

Thunder Warriors were never meant to fight alone. He was never meant to be alone. Left alone without his brothers, in some deep, buried part of him, hidden under all that ash and false smiles and raucous laughter…somewhere, beneath that false bravado, there’s grief. Grief and isolation and the ache of betrayal so deep it could not be expunged. It could not even be cured, nor brought out to light, it could only be soothed occasionally, when that jagged grin slips off his features as for a moment the former Primarch almost seems like the broken beast he was. A soldier, without a country to fight for, a tool without a purpose. Knowing he’s nothing but a derelict ruin, eking out a miserable existence for a better death. 

(In those days, those times when even Valdor’s knife feels better than his mercy, hold him. Hold him kindly. Wrap an arm around those broad shoulders, poke gently but insistently beneath the scales of half-healed wounds, beneath the aches where memories of his dead brothers lay, and listen to him sob. Listen to him grieve when he finally breaks and lets down his guard. His brothers have been dead for decades, but their Primarch has never accepted their graves.)

His voice is a ragged ruin. A lifetime of stimms, drug abuse encouraged by the Cataegis legions, hasty surgeries, and finally, by Valdor’s hands, have wrecked his once-booming voice. It’s still sharp, and echoing and imposing, as he’s too stubborn to remain silent for long, but he still also rasps occasionally, his laugh a grating chuckle. Occasionally it’s painful for him to speak at all. When away from the company of others, when he can let that mask of sardonic flamboyance slip, Ushotan won’t speak at all. He might let himself cough then, hacking up goblets of oily blood, ignoring the crimson streaks the same way a soldier learns to ignore the stench of corpses.

(He can sing, but only a few warsongs. And a drinking song or two, for good measures. Don’t ask him to try. He’ll laugh at you.) 

(Don’t touch his neck. He hates strangulation. Well, not hate it precisely, but he hates being reminded of the scars on his neck. They’re sensitive. Dreadfully so. Aurite shackles, clipped to his neural ports, could harm him severely. Perhaps a kinder touch could bring him around?)

Sometimes, he can wake himself screaming. Screaming from the dreams. When Valdor slit his throat, and tore his vocal cords, he can still sometimes be heard whimpering. Gasping out wheezes that could have once been screams, awakened from memories of half-remembered war dreams. The dirt of trenches before his boots, the sound of cannons in the distance, every muscle strained and tense for some unknown ambush, battle-madness seeping through his veins before realization sinks in. The trauma will never leave him, not as long as he lives, but he’ll be damned if he lets them see what their Primarch has become.

For the Thunder Warriors that survived with him, he’s still their master, in a sense. He’s alive, isn’t he? He’s all they have left. They look up to him, the same way a broken ship may look towards a granite slab in the distance, weathered and eroded by sun and storm yet still standing strong. (And he’ll be damned if he’ll let them die the same way they died the first time.)

He laughs, he jests, he spars and fights and plays with them, it’s all the brutal, boisterous rituals of Thunder Warriors anyways, soldiers sharing one last smoke before the shells rain down upon them. He can be heard laughing, his booming voice uproarious and unrestrained, confident and unbreakable and as bold as brass before external company, as sharp and as savage as an old knife that still knows how to cut. 

But when that mask of arrogant strength fades, when his jests and his mirth and his sharp, sharp intuitions leave him, there’s nothing but cynicism inside. Nothing but pain in those far too old eyes when his grin finally fades, and his broad shoulders slump from the weight of his defeat. And for a moment he might appear truly beaten, looking upon his surviving Thunder Warriors not with his usual camaraderie but with sorrow, with apologetic suffering when the memories crowd in. A shard of brass, drowning against the unfeeling night. Kandawire had come very close to seeing what he appeared as, what he truly is, at the very edge of this charade, when all his boisterous confidence leaves and the man who had shouldered the entire weight of a broken legion that refused to yield. 

In those moments, Ushotan appears as he truly is. The last remnants of a once glorious legion, soldiers sloughing through the mud in a campaign that will never end, praying the next mortar shell might just strike a bit more accurately. 

In sieges, the key is patience. He knows that under unrelenting force, even the most stubborn of fortresses break. Even the most resolute of walls crumble beneath the relentless assault of batteries, and the screaming of guns. He knows what it feels like when the walls break, and the exhausted soldiers, life broken out of them by cannons and months, gazing back with dull acceptance as their enemies storm through gaping gates and broken walls, their fortresses seized brick by brick and stone by stone. Ushotan knows just how terrible, how painful, it can be…to simply endure.

Because, in truth, is that not what they are? Soldiers in a siege that will never end, holding the line against the stark horror of their very existence itself. No longer living, but simply…existing. Enduring. Sloughing on day after day, when their purpose is made obsolete. 

Former. Primarch. Emphasis on his rank. He was the master of the living storm once. He will not be again. Everything from his old wargear, to his current state, to his very own surviving brothers, seem to exemplify this. Ushotan has never enjoyed feeling quite so old, quite so derelict. 

He’s good with machinery, repairing, innovating, engineering, designing. He’s also good with beating random thugs to death with random bits of machinery. One happens more often than the other. 

Be prepared for occasional outbursts of violence. For a Thunder Warrior, his self-control is remarkably strict. He’s still just about sane, just about in control but there are…lapses. Chinks in his armor. When that smile slips and his memories take over, when he’s a young creature again(Hell, he’s always young, he hasn’t aged since the augments) and smelling the frost of Maulland Sen, Valdor standing at his shoulder. Those memories are never pleasant. He remembers few actually pleasant moments.

For a Thunder Warrior, he can be remarkably patient. Ushotan may have the temperment of a ragged, vengeful, surprisingly playful bear, but he’s still sane enough for self-control. 

Of course, the whiskey. How could one forget? That man could down countless bottles of it without even a single difference. Drowning his sorrows, perhaps, but in this case his sorrows are as cold as a mountain, and as elegant as a certain captain-general, still undoubtedly hunting Terra for his absence. 

Why is he alive? Ushotan doesn’t even know why himself. No need to worry, he’s not foolish enough to…attempt anything. Cowardice is the lowest form of treachery among Thunder Warriors. If he dies, he’ll do it fighting, claw and tooth and nail and fang.

Fighting. It’s what he loves, in a sense. They all love it. It was beaten into their genes. Nothing happier than when he’s grinning, fists covered in blood, wounds standing stark against his broad frame, and not even feeling a single twinge of pain. Hacking, bleeding, wounded and wounding, up to his knees in the heat of combat. That is when Ushotan and his brothers know joy. Wild, unadulterated joy. He knows his purpose. He knows his worth. It was, in a sense, all he is good for.

(Exhaustion can quickly set in, especially given the energy expenditure of a Thunder Warrior. Ushotan has collapsed before, out of sheer exhaustion. The Thunder Warriors can carry him back. That fool of a Primarch only laughs, runs a hand through his cropped hair and calls it “sleeping troubles” before walking off.)

They’ve replaced him already. Ushotan has always noted this with a form of ironic humor. They’ve replaced the Thunder Warriors. He had fought the Astartes in that failed coup, and he wasn’t even impressed. But it was real now. Evidence, in his bloodstained hands. The cycle was complete. The world had no use for him now, even though he had helped build it, brick by brick.

(In rare moments of introspection, the former Primarch sometimes concludes that it is truly better to be forgotten. After all, who would care for the savage soldiers of a bygone age, when victory - and not the struggles it took to achieve them - were already in their grasp?)

Valdor’s still looking for him. He knows it, Valdor knows it. They both know it. It’s a burning, broken thing. An obsession. Ushotan knows that when Valdor catches him, he will kill whomever was kind enough to take him in, he’ll kill his brothers, he’ll kill them and drag Ushotan home in golden chains. The captain will throw him in the Dungeons to rot out an immortality without life, where the sun eclipsed the stars and the nights are endless. 

Taxidermied like a living corpse on display, he’d never see Terra again. If Valdor catches him. If Valdor catches him. There would be no escape.

It is on days like this when he realizes the futility of trying to hide, that he takes another swig of whiskey, closes his blue-grey eyes, and tries to forget. 

(Perhaps…some certain actions can help him relax? He isn’t entirely deprived of desire after all, if one is willing to press him enough.)

His eyes are surprisingly beautiful. They aren’t dark, or black, as presumed. They’re an icy blue overcast with grey. Like stormclouds. Like a hanged sky. Like rain. Such a shame Ushotan doesn’t showcase them often.

Scars. Multitudes of them. They scrawl over his chest, his back, his hips, his thighs, nearly every inch of him. Each scar, a silent story unfolding over flesh, with words he has no interest in speaking. Ushotan doesn’t care for his body, in a sense. He knows it will fail him. He knows it will kill him. The poison in his veins will burn him alive, either way, why would he love what is essentially a glorified coffin?

(He really, really does need to take better care of himself…)

[your-local-simp-writers]

Shadows of Redemption

Word Count: 839

Warnings: Mild violence, emotional distress, dark themes

Arkham Knight (Jason Todd) x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The room was dimly lit, and the air felt heavy with tension. The reader sat bound to a chair, fear gripping her heart as she awaited her uncertain fate. She had been kidnapped by the malicious forces of the Malita, a sinister organization that had its claws deep within Gotham's criminal underworld. The reader had no idea why she was their target, but the terror in her eyes was evident.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. The Arkham Knight. His mask obscured his face, and the reader's breath hitched at the sight of him. The rumors of the Arkham Knight had spread like wildfire throughout Gotham, painting him as an unstoppable force and a ruthless enforcer of justice.

He approached her with a stern and aggressive demeanor, his presence alone instilling fear. "Who sent you?" he demanded, his voice firm and commanding.

"I-I don't know," the reader stammered, her heart pounding in her chest. "I swear, I don't know anything!"

The Arkham Knight remained silent, his cold gaze locked onto hers. The weight of his stare was suffocating, and the reader's anxiety grew by the second.

"Why did you kidnap me?" she finally managed to ask, her voice trembling.

The Arkham Knight's response was curt and direct. "It was necessary," he said, his tone lacking any trace of sympathy.

The reader's mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. She had never crossed paths with this man before, and she couldn't fathom why he would have any reason to target her. The uncertainty and fear overwhelmed her, and she couldn't help but break down in tears.

As the tears streamed down her face, something in the Arkham Knight seemed to shift. He hesitated for a moment before reaching up to remove his mask, revealing his face for the first time. The reader gasped, her heart pounding even harder.

"Jason?" she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

The man before her was indeed Jason Todd, a childhood friend whom she had believed to be dead for the past eight years. They had grown up together on the streets of Gotham, forming a bond that had once been unbreakable. But fate had torn them apart, and the reader had mourned his loss deeply.

"I thought you were dead," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jason's expression hardened, and he looked away. "I'm not the person you thought I was, (Y/N)," he said, his voice low and filled with pain. "I'm not the boy you used to know."

The reader's heart ached at the turmoil in his eyes. She had never seen him like this before, so haunted and conflicted. Her anger and fear faded away, replaced by a longing to understand what had happened to him.

"You're still Jason to me," she said gently. "No matter what you've been through, you're still the person I cared about."

He looked back at her, his eyes searching hers for something she couldn't quite decipher. "You shouldn't care about me," he muttered. "I'm not worth it."

The reader reached out, taking his hand in hers. "You are worth it, Jason. You always have been."

He seemed taken aback by her touch, as if he hadn't expected anyone to show him kindness in a long time. But he didn't pull away, and the reader saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

They sat there in silence for a while, his hand in hers providing a small measure of comfort. In that moment, the reader knew that she couldn't let him push her away. She had to be there for him, to help him find his way back from the darkness that had consumed him.

"I'm sorry for everything you've been through," she said softly, her voice filled with compassion. "But you don't have to face it alone."

For the first time in years, Jason allowed himself to be vulnerable. He leaned into her touch, seeking comfort and solace in her presence. The reader wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, and in that moment, they both knew that they were no longer alone.

But just as quickly as the moment of vulnerability had come, Jason pulled away. He put his mask back on, his expression once again unreadable. "I can't stay," he said, his voice distant. "I have to go."

Before the reader could respond, he turned and left the room, leaving her heartbroken, confused, and scared. She was relieved to know he was alive, but she was left with more questions than answers.

As the door closed behind him, a group of Malita soldiers entered the room, taking charge of guarding her. The reader was left alone, her mind reeling with emotions she couldn't fully comprehend.

In the darkness of that room, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had a chance to help him find his way back to the person he once was.

So, she waited, determined to be there for him when he was ready to let her in again.

[kotoal1011]

incoherent f/o gush ahead (me screaming and crying bc of my wife)

first of all WHAT A FUCKING BANGER WAITING SO LONG WAS WORTH IT. THE EMOTION IN HER VOICE WHEN SHE SINGS AAAAAAA

okay now compilation of screenshots I took cuz it's my wife

faceless ko.toko after being too silly (committing homicide)

SHE. SHE'S FUCKING CRYING I CAN'T

I didn't get to see her cleavage but she's still hot as fuck

the way she probably pushed the girl she just saved aside. the look of disgust and distress in her eyes. ko.toko??? (not to mention the way she looks at the girl later on as if saying "don't fucking touch me")

she looks like a fucking villain I LOVE HER

seeing all of her work destroyed like that kinda breaks me ngl. she's not even sitting on the chair anymore she's just on thr ground looking down like a depressed dog

angry ko.toko compilation <3 she's going feral (quite literally)

THE LOOK ON HER FACE HOLY SHIT

I SWEAR TO GOD I CAN'T I WANNA CRY

[threestarsinline]

OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, I JUST HAVE NO WORDS FOR THIS MASTERPIECE. I'M NOT RELIGIOUS BUT THIS SHOULD BE IN AN ALTAR, IT'S A FREAKING MASTERPIECE, I'M JUST GOING TO MAKE AN ALTAR MYSELF AND PRAY TO IT EVERY DAY AND EVERY NIGHT, THIS IS INCREDIBLE, I AM DEAD ON THE FLOOR AND I AM NOT GETTING UP EVER AGAIN (More fangirling and love for this fic under the cut)

I CAN'T BELIEVE I JUST READ THIS JUST LIKE THAT, FOR FREE, LIKE, I WOULD GIVE AN ORGAN TO READ THIS I SWEAR, IT'S THE BEST RHETT FIC I HAVE EVER READ, I AM NOT KIDDING, NEW FAV RHETT FIC UNLOCKED. I REALLY CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I CAN READ THIS, SERIOUSLY, I WOULD GIVE YOU MY SOUL IN THANKS BECAUSE OMG, I WOULD PAY A MILLION DOLLARS TO READ THIS, THIS SHOULD BE EXPOSED IN A GALLERY AS ONE OF THE GREATEST WORKS OF ALL TIME, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MANY EMOTIONS THIS PULLED OUT OF ME, IT GAVE ME SUCH A VISCERAL REACTION IN THE BEST OF WAYS, I WAS SCREAMING, CRYING, DYING AND THEN COMING BACK TO LIFE.

IT WAS JUST EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED, IT HURT SO MUCH BUT THE COMFORT AT THE END WAS EVERYTHING, IT TRULY MADE EVERYTHING WORTH IT. YOUR WRITING IS JUST AMAZING, I HAVE NO WORDS, I MAY BE REPEATING MYSELF BUT THIS FIC JUST CHANGED MY LIFE I SWEAR, NOTHING HAS EVER FELT AS CATHARTIC AS READING THIS, I AM GOING TO FOREVER THINK ABOUT THIS.

I SHOULD HAVE BEEN DOING THINGS FOR WORK BUT READING THIS MASTERPIECE WAS MORE IMPORTANT, IT WAS A NEED, I JUST CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR WRITING THIS AND SHARING IT WITH US, I HAVE A PERMANENT SMILE ON MY FACE AND I DON'T KNOW IF IT'S EVER GOING TO GO AWAY, I CERTAINLY DON'T WANT IT TO.

I AM LITERALLY LIVING MY CHILDHOOD FRIENDS TO LOVERS DREAMS THROUGH THIS FIC, IT WAS A TROPE THAT I ALREADY LOVED BUT THIS FIC JUST CEMENTED IT AND RAISED IT FOR ME. I MAY NOT HAVE A BOYFRIEND BUT AT LEAST I HAVE THIS FIC, AND I SERIOUSLY WOULDN'T WANT IT ANY OTHER WAY.

EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS FIC IS JUST WONDERFUL, I MEAN, THE LONGING, THE YEARNING, THE PINING, THAY ARE MY FAVORITE AND I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME AND YOU JUST PORTRAYED ALL OF THOSE FEELINGS SO WELL I WANT TO DIE.

I LOVE SOULMATE AUS AND THE ANGST FROM HANAHAKI DISEASE WITH A HAPPY ENDING AND OMG, DID YOU DELIVER QUEEN, IT'S BEEN A WHILE SINCE I'VE READ A FIC WITH THAT AU AND I JUST LOVE IT, IT'S JUST SO INCREDIBLE. THIS WAS DELICIOUSLY WRITTEN, JUST THE ANGST, ALL THE FEELINGS, IT'S JUST SERIOUSLY INCREDIBLE, I LOVED EVERY SINGLE PART OF IT.

AND THE WORLD BUILDING AND YOUR WRITING STYLE OMG THEY ARE JUST AMAZING!!! I COULD LITERALLY FEEL THE STORM COMING, THE WIND ON MY FACE, THE RAIN FALLING, EVERYTHING!! OMG JUST- *CHEF'S KISS*, I HAVE NEVER READ SOMETHING LIKE THIS I SWEAR, YOU DESERVE ALL THE AWARDS, EVERYTHING IN THIS LIFE, I LOVE THIS FIC.

ALL EVENTS IN MY LIFE WILL NOW BE DESCRIBED AS PRE-READING THIS FIC AND AFTER IT. JUST THANK YOU, A MILLION TIMES THANK YOU. I'M SORRY IF THIS IS TOO MUCH, I JUST HAVE TOO MANY EMOTIONS, I AM NOT OKAY BUT IN THE BEST OF WAYS, I AM ONLY SAD THAT I WON'T EVER GET TO EXPERIENCE READING THIS AGAIN FOR THE FIRST TIME, BUT I AM GLAD THAT I WILL HAVE THE PLEASURE OF READING IT AGAIN A HUNDRED TIMES OVER FOR THE REST OF TIME, IT WAS JUST SUCH A DELIGHTFUL READ.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, YOU ARE AMAZING, I COULD KEEP RAMBLING SAYING HOW INCREDIBLE THIS IS AND HOW AMAZING YOU ARE, BUT YOU DESERVE A BREAK OF THIS RANT. JUST, THANK YOU AGAIN, THANK YOU, THANK YOU, AND THANK YOU, THIS REALLY IS ONE OF THE BEST FICS THAT I HAVE EVER READ ON THIS SITE, NOT ONLY COUNTING RHETT FICS, BUT ALL OF THEM, EVERYONE SHOULD GO READ THIS RIGHT FUCKING NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW

Okay, and now that I have calmed down (more of less), after that initial rant of finishing the fic (that I have read over several times, corrected spelling errors from my emotional distressed state after reading the fic and divided into paragraphs to make it more readable and not an incoherent mess of me screaming how much I love this fic in capital letters), here are a few more collected thoughts after I literally spent an hour staring into space, trying to process the masterpiece that I had just read (it's been 6 hours since I read the fic now and it has not left my brain since, and I don't think that it's going to anytime soon. My day was supposed to be productive, I had a lot of things to do, but this fic got in the way of that, and don't get me wrong, I love it, the best way to spend my day, really, I have no regrets). Anyway, here we goooo:

As I said, I will forever think about this fic. It's just so well written, I could feel every emotion and everything was just described so so so well, from the coughing of the flowers to the storm, just every single thing, the details were amazing. And OMG the kiss scene.

The kiss scene. What can I say about it? It was incredible. Amazing. Showstopping. Spectacular. Never been done before, completely unique jsshsjsj. Everything that I needed and more. When she got out of the truck and went inside I was like: RHETT HONEY YOU BETTER GET OUT TOO, WALK UP THOSE STEPS AND KISS HER RIGHT ABOUT FUCKING NOW JDHSJSKS

And omg THANK GOD (aka you) that he did. That first kiss was PERFECTION I swear. I could just feel everything from that moment, the hidden and unspoken feelings, the need, the love, EVERYTHING!! And I loved all of it. Plus, the smut was SUPERB, I just couldn't stop reading.

Also, I listened to the two songs that you mentioned (both the one that inspired the title and the one that inspired the kiss scene) and let me tell you, I am OBSESSED now. I added them to my playlist and I'm going to listen to them on repeat, I love them. That way, whenever they pop up I will be reminded of this awesome fic and reminisce on everything that it made me feel, almost as if reading the fic all over again.

Also, the ending, HELLO??????? It was just so so wonderful and so fulfilling, I was literally in teaaaaars 😭😭 They totally deserved that happy ending, thank you for giving it to them ����🥹 And the final addition of the flowers growing by the house was just the perfect little finishing touch wrapping this incredible story in a perfect bow.

I think that with that I have commented on everything that I wanted (though I'm sure that I'm missing a few things), but just let me say that I really am missing the words to really be able to convey everything that this story made me feel. It is now one of my favorite fics EVER and will forever be glad that I stumbled upon it. Also, roses and spiderworts are my favorite flowers now hsjsjsksk. So, to sum up, just, thank you for writing this fic and sharing it with us. Really, thank you, thank you, thank you ❤️❤️❤️

every storm runs out of rain | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 17,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, Hanahaki disease, soulmates AU, childhood friends to lovers, alcohol, food mentions, vomiting, first kisses, thunderstorms, (temporarily) unrequited feelings, almost kiss, unprotected sex, eventual happy endings 🌹. Vaguely based on the Gary Allan song of the same name. Brief Summary: It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, and yet, your tattoos don't match. You're not made for each other.

It's hard to tell if the feelings started with the stuffiness in your lungs or if it's something that has always been there. 

An indescribable sort of longing that has flown beneath your radar for the better half of a decade. The kind of thing that has let you assume a false sense of comfort under the title of childhood friend. 

Best friend, if Rhett has a few drinks buzzing through his system. Two shining plaques with your name written across them in bold letters.

But neither of them are what you and your dumb heart crave. The pride of being called his significant other is a feeling you will never know, so long as your tattoos are around to remind you that they don't match. So, so close in nature, and yet, they're not the same. 

It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, so perfect he could fit into your life like a puzzle piece, and yet fate has destined him and you to fall in love with strangers. Not each other. 

Never each other. 

That tickling rises in the back of your throat. Snowballing larger and larger until you can no longer—

A horn blares. 

Your head jerks back toward the street just in time to see the passenger door of an old GMC squeal open. Rhett. Leaned all the way across his bench seat, hair in his face and all. 

"Y' comin' or not?" He chirps, already beginning to impatiently pat on the cloth seat, beckoning you in like he would a stray cat.

In this cold little town, your heart burns a little warmer.

How he got here so fast, you'll never know, but you've never been more thankful for it. Water splashes beneath your feet, darting toward his truck and away from the crowd of people raging on behind you. Up into your designated place in his passenger seat, slamming the door closed before you've even gotten settled, effectively shutting off the thumping music and flashing neon lights.

"How did you know where I was?" Because last you recall, you never told him about where you were headed tonight. 

Rhett just hums, the noise lost to the rumble of his truck engine. "Recognized the floor in the picture y' sent." 

Of course, that would be one of his many odd talents. 

"Being able to identify a bar just from the floor tile might mean you have a bit of a drinking problem, Cowboy," your eyes roll, shifting to rest against the door. 

"Listen," the streetlight catches in his eyes, lighting them up with a memory, "that checkered pattern is cute 'til your head stars spinnin'." 

He's...got a point. 

Ugh. 

The silence that falls into the truck is a comfortable one. It's the kind of quiet that lets you hear the impatient drum of his fingers, dancing to the soft drone of his radio set to an old country station. Backdropped by the sound of water spraying beneath his tires, washing away weeks upon weeks of built-up dirt from the ranch. 

His whole truck could use a good wash, but it won't see a bucket of soap and water until he scores another date with some no-name from the rodeo grounds. Or alternatively, you show up in the middle of the night and scrub it from top to bottom.

Your phone lights up with a text asking about where you went. Sent from some guy you cared so little about that you haven't even bothered to save his number in your contacts. But as you move to unlock the screen, it opens up to a different set of messages. 

You: Nothing quite like being stuck at a bar, waiting on your designated driver to decide she wants to leave. 10:47 PM

Rhett: What's wrong? 10:51 PM

You: I told a guy I didn't want to dance, and he 'accidentally' spilled his drink on me 🙄  10:51 PM

You: But my ride doesn't want to leave for another hour or two. 10:52 PM

You never noticed the message that was sent right after yours. 

Rhett: On my way 10:55 PM

Maybe not every man in this world has gone to shit. 

Rhett's hand bumps into your chest, some kind of gray fabric balled up in his hand, "here."

You've seen this old shirt before; it's the first thing he ever bought online, hadn't realized until it arrived that it was a few sizes too big for him. Not particularly ideal for a cowboy who can get caught on equipment, but perfect for your impromptu sleepovers.

"You still have this old thing?" You're already beginning to tug your damp T-shirt over your head. Potential onlookers be damned, you're ready to be free of the overwhelming whiskey bitterness reeking from it.

The back of his knuckles graze up your naked side, guided by the thin path of a decade-old scar. A branding from younger, brighter days; the ones when Cecelia would let you spend weekends on the ranch. Waking up at dawn to help Rhett with his ranch chores because the quicker things got done, the sooner you got to run down and play in the creekbed. 

"Still can't believe that piece of glass marred ya like that," Rhett mutters after a long moment. You can't see into his thick skull, but you've got a feeling that he's got a similar memory flickering through his mind. 

"To be fair, I did fall on it," slipping your arms through the clean shirt, you pull it over your head, and once again, that old scar is out of sight. 

That half-hearted chuckle sends a warmth rushing through your veins. The exact one that shouldn't be there. But he hasn't the slightest clue of the wildfire sitting next to him, back to tapping along on his steering wheel as he drives through the main stretch of town. Past feedstores, tourist shops, dinners, the grocery store, and every other little niche boutique hidden between. 

"Thank you." You hardly recognize that it's you speaking. Hadn't realized it was your voice until the sound of it met your ears.

It's a little too quiet in this truck.

But Rhett just reaches over to shake your shoulder. "Y' don't gotta thank me for shit like that," for a fleeting second, he's got just enough time to look away from the road and offer you a lazy smile. "'s what friends do, ain't it?"

Your chest feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Meek, you nod, attention suddenly on the floorboard and nothing else—nothing else to say. 

Yeah. That's what friends do. 

He doesn't make mention of it, but you've got the feeling that your SOS text must have interrupted another one of his dates. A pile of rose petals rests at your feet, scattered as if they've been swept off the seat in a hurry to make space. Caked in mud and the rainwater that tracked in from your shoes. Storebought, that much you know for sure.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. 

The next time you see him, it's planned. 

You have, for some reason, allowed yourself to become roped into the craze of Wabang's beloved Sugarbeet festival. Right smack dab in the middle of some old ranching land that the county bought some years back. It would have been a pleasant idea if the festival was hosted in spring or autumn and not in the blistering heat of summer. Not an ounce of shade to be found, nothing but cheap tents to protect you from the beating sun. 

It's the kind of misery that makes the outdoors feel like a goddamn oven, and heading out to start your car is its own kind of devil. The air jammed in your AC blasts your face with the boiling winds of hell itself. So damn intense that if Rhett's truck weren't crawling down your driveway, you would have canceled and called it a day.

And you're so glad that you didn't, because good lord. 

The last thing you expected was for Rhett to hop out in that unbuttoned flannel, broad chest on display for all to see. The sleeve falls just far enough from his shoulder that you can see the scar hiding below his left collarbone. 

"Quite the festival outfit you've got," you chirp, dragging your eyes away from his bull tattoo and over to a nearby tree, feigning interest. The back of your throat is starting to tickle, lungs tight as you fend off the urge to cough. Not here, not here, not here.

He laughs, "What, y' don't think I look good like this?"

You do, but he doesn't need to know that. Not in the slightest. 

"Its...certainly a choice," faking a grimace, you turn your attention back to your car, slowly but surely growing cooler the longer it runs. A pleasure that Rhett and his broken air conditioning unit haven't known since last summer. 

You don't mind the idea of it staying broken if he keeps showing up at your house looking like this. Even if that does mean that you become his ride on the hotter days, fearing an onset of heat stroke. 

The passenger door is silent as he opens it. No longer squealing due to whatever he and Royal did to it last weekend. Being friends with a family of DIY ranchers has its perks. 

Thunk_

"Shit." 

You blink. Was that...?

Yeah. 

It was. 

As if last time wasn't enough of a lesson, Rhett's got his knees pinned up against your glovebox, the seat too far forward for him and his big body to fit. Though this time, he isn't hurriedly pawing at the seat levers like he'll die if he doesn't get any more space. Instead, he's resigned to a frown. More annoyed with himself than anything.

"You alright there?" 

Rhett's sigh is so heavy that his shoulders visibly deflate. "Yeah," reaching off to the side, pushing the seat back as far as it can go. "Humbled, but 'm alright."

It's toward the end of your drive that you notice the flower petals sitting on your dashboard. Roses, you think. It must be what you get for leaving your windows rolled down all morning, vulnerable to adventurous squirrels and other varmints that enjoy trespassing into property they don't own. 

They're certainly not from you, and you would have asked Rhett if your destination hadn't come up so quickly. Fighting for a parking space in the withered grass is a bigger task than folks let on. Even with folks on the ground, pointing you to the perfect spot, someone will always try to steal it out from under you. 

For a festival in such a small town, there is a hell of a lot going on inside of it. Food trucks, concession stands full of sweet treats, craft booths, and cheap knick-knacks bought offline to resell under the guise of being handmade locally. Apple bobbing, the duck pond, and ring toss. There's a precariously placed dragon roller coaster and a horse carousel that Rhett tries convincing you to get on. 

Worse. There are so many people. Faces you recognize and those you've never seen before. Waiting in lines and shoving themselves between you and Rhett because the small gap between your shoulders looked like a good opening to get somewhere quicker. 

"'s a lil crazy out here, don't ya think?" Rhett's asking through a laugh, once again stepping over to you. Two kids dart between you, their hands occupied with bags of fake goldfish. 

Only took a decade for them to learn not to hand out live fish. You can still remember the three you and Rhett got when you were small. One didn't survive the drive back to his house, and the other two managed to stick around long enough to see New Year's. 

Rest in peace, Goldie Junior and Patches.

"I think it's always been crazy," tilting your head to cough into your elbow, dislodging that goddamn tickling sensation—you look away before you can see what it is. 

There's a girl off to the side, staring in your direction. Or rather, Rhett's direction. Long, wavy hair and a delicate sundress, the kind of woman who looks like she's walked right off the beach cover of a magazine. Her warm gaze has long since settled on Rhett; it's a look you've seen a million and one times at the rodeo. The one that gets him a little weak in the knees.

You look away as quickly as they flickered over there. If you don't make eye contact, maybe she won't come over to introduce herself. 

"We weren't that bad, though," but then, pausing to look at you, concern lacing his narrowed gaze, "...right?" 

Rose-tinted memories flicker through your mind. Rhett falling and breaking his wrist after taking you out on a green horse. Trespassing onto the Tillerson property to play with Luke and Billy, only to get hauled home in the back of a police cruiser, 'cause their momma didn't care much for you two. Getting busted, sneaking out your bedroom window to go spend the night with Rhett. All those times, you had to run through back alleys together because you'd been caught out after Wabang's curfew. 

"I like to think we were relatively well-behaved," concluding after a moment. Though your families may have a vastly different opinion on that. 

Laughter rumbles from you at the same time it does from Rhett, shoulders bumping together. Sends a little shock of warmth rippling through your bones, twisting around your heart like briars.

Maybe the conversation would have lasted longer if you didn't get distracted. Rhett lays eyes on a truck dedicated to a locally crafted beer, and the small frame of a self-serve station from the local candy shop catches your attention. It only makes sense that you would step aside and regroup in a few minutes. You're in desperate need of a breather before that girl works up the nerve to approach him and turns you into a third wheel. 

There's more to this little station than what initially met the eye. It's shelves full of caramel apples, peanut brittle, fudges of every flavor you can imagine, covered pretzels, cookies, and hard candies galore. And here you thought that it would have been wiped clean by the folks who came early in the morning before the sun could reach mind-numbing temperatures. Even your favorite candy is here, the last box left on the shelf.

The price is a little steep, but the flavor of them on your tongue is enough to distract from the pained cries of your wallet. If Rhett knew these were here, then he absolutely would have skipped out on beer in favor of convincing you to split them together—the candy mooch. 

But you must have taken too long to make your decision because you don't see Rhett. Not by the crudely decorated truck, and he said he would be waiting next to the old wooden bench under the oak tree, but it's entirely empty. Not a cowboy in sight. That stuffiness arises in your throat again. 

Maybe he's...

"Hey!" A herd of kids are darting around you. Like a bunch of cats scrambling from the bang of a tractor. One slams into the side of your leg as she rushes past. It doesn't affect her in the slightest, but your feet stumble. Knocked off kilter. Your open container of candy threatens to spill onto the dirt. 

 But then another kid is bursting through the crowd, and this one... 

You recognize this one. 

"Amy?" 

She doesn't need to say a damn thing. Her wide eyes tell all you need to know. 

The crowd is too tall for her to see over it, but as she tugs you along behind her, you've got the feeling that she knows exactly where she's going. Navigating the festival based on terrain alone, over thinly spread gravel, and down a broad dirt path. Her hand clings to your wrist so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. 

You don't know who she's bringing you to or what could have happened. But it has to be something. Perry could have fallen into another one of his rages. Rhett very well may be doing something dumber than getting a DUI on the back of a horse. Or, or—

It's both of them. 

Perry's clawing at Trevor like a goddamn cat. His teeth bared like an animal. Crazed. Feral. Someone's got him by the collar. But it's not doing anything. He barks something incoherent. Jabbing a pointed finger at Trevor. Amy's shoulders jolt. Squeezing your wrist impossibly tighter. 

Plaid shirts scuffle behind them. Cowboy boots and Prada sneakers kick up plumes of dirt. Two brick walls slamming into one another. Caught in a spiral until someone makes the first pull backward. Luke's fist connects with Rhett's jaw. 

Flower petals burst into the air. 

All of a sudden, Luke is jumping backward, his palms raised to the sky. A rare white flag. One that you didn't even know was in the Tillerson arsenal. "I'm sorry, man," is all he can say. Pale as a damn ghost. 

Almost pale as the baby pink petals fluttering onto the dirt floor. 

"Is that..." Amy's the one to break the silence, looking your way as if you hold all the answers. In a sense, maybe you do. "I thought it was a myth?"

Air catches in your windpipe. Feels like you're about to choke. "I did, too." 

What the fight was over, you're not sure. It couldn't have been something serious; they've dropped the issue far too quickly for it to be something worth fighting over. There and gone within the blink of an eye. The Tillerson brothers are dispersing into the crowd without another foul word, Rhett's wordlessly pawing at the fresh red mark on his jaw, and Perry's barking something you don't care to hear. 

Amy's long nails are biting into your skin, threatening to tear through and draw blood, but you can't ask her to loosen up or let go. The sting is half the reason you haven't unraveled like a loose ball of yarn. It isn't enough to stop your lower belly from twisting and turning, a bitterness rising in the back of your raw throat.

"Sorry," Rhett's voice comes so suddenly that you jolt. 

"I leave you alone for five minutes." Your tone comes out blander than you intended, doesn't match the roll of your eyes, deliberately avoiding the sight of flowers lying in the dirt.

He must catch onto it because his frown deepens. But he doesn't say anything, and neither do you. Only offering a wave and a forced smile when Amy ultimately ventures off with Perry for another one of his ice cream apologies. Those seem to be happening more and more lately. 

Hypothetically, someone should say something. Explain what the fight was about, how he got across the festival so damn fast. Was the beer any good? Want to share this candy before your jaw starts to ache like a bitch? The words are flickering through your head a million miles a minute, but not a syllable makes it to your tongue. 

"It's over someone at the bar," Rhett's admission comes in the tune of a guilty child confessing to breaking a vase. Meek. Like he'll fall apart if pushed any harder. "If that's what y' were wanderin'." 

Falling back into the character of annoying best friend is easy. All you've got to do is throw your weight into his side, not strong enough to deliver a playful shove. "So there really is another person stuck with that god awful tattoo," letting your mouth rise into a smile, almost thrilled to be pulling this off so well.

"Hey!" He's pushing you back, laughing, though he's careful not to knock you off your feet this time."'Least mine ain't a shoe."

Defiant, you raise your left arm, the tattoo on your wrist just as dark and bold as it was the day you were born. "It's a lucky horseshoe, thank you very much." 

And just for a little bit, you can deceive yourself into thinking you can still breathe.

You never do put the passenger seat back into its place. It's so far back that you catch yourself thinking it's not there at all; more than once, you clamber into the vehicle and think someone has robbed you of it. A part of you wishes it would happen. That some ridiculous bandit would break in and take that seat. 

It would be doing your dignity a favor; you're acting as if he's dead. 

You passed his truck on the way over here, parked outside the Handsome Gambler. If you weren't worried about wrecking, you would have tried to get a glimpse through the open door to spot him with his shiny new soulmate. 

A good friend would stop in and say hello; if she makes Rhett happy, then you should be happy. It should be on the forefront of your mind; you're three stores down from the bar, but your feeble heart jerks in your chest with a familiar sourness. Hand trembling, struggling to hang onto this little bag of chips. 

A good friend would be happy for him. 

But you're not a good friend. 

And if this cashier doesn't hurry up, you might also become a horrible customer. Your stomach is twisting like you're about to puke, something bitter rising in the back of your throat. Damn near dropping the receipt when she hands it to you, shoving it into the bag, and darting out the open door. 

You hardly make it to the edge of the sidewalk. Keeling over with a wretched noise. 

But the only thing that comes up is the shit that's been lodged in your chest all afternoon, stubbornly sitting in your chest with the weight of a damn elephant. Refusing to move, restricting your airway until you crack, and confess your feelings to a man who was never meant for you. 

"Hey!" 

Bleary, your eyes peel open. Really hope they're not talking to you. 

"I have your sidekick!" Sherrif Joy's voice cuts across the night air like a knife. Swift and straight to the point.

Turning your head might be the thing that puts you on the ground, vision spinning like your eyes have gone loose in your skull. Funny. You can almost deceive yourself into thinking that's Rhett she's towing along.

Maybe because it is him. Boots dragging against the sidewalk, shoulders so loose that they sway in the wind, eyes hardly open, simply led along by the hand Joy has on his bicep. You've got just enough time to paw at your mouth with your sleeve before she's close enough to notice that something may be off.

"I know he's not your responsibility," the glint in her eye suggests she's getting more amusement out of this than she should be. Probably because this wouldn't be the first, second, or third time that she's sought you out. "But he wouldn't shut his mouth when he saw you."

Rhett's grin is too bright for his flushed face. "Hi." 

You don't need to look at your phone to know that it's too damn early for this, and yet, you can't seem to muster up the slightest bit of irritation as you ask. "How are you already drunk at eleven at night?" 

"I—" Hiccup. "Been here all evenin'." Shreds of red rose petals cling to his lips, flaking off with the movement of his mouth and fluttering to the ground like rain.

Oh, Rhett. 

"If you don't want him, I can bring him to the station," Joy always says this, the same damn line over and over, as if she doesn't know what you will ultimately say, "it's no big deal for me." 

Looping your hand through the handle of your grocery bag, you reach out to take Rhett by the wrist. He comes to you easily, long arms reaching out to wrap around you, clinging like an oversized piece of velcro. 

"I'll take him," feigning annoyance is impossible when he's smiling at you like that. Drunk but completely and utterly happy to be with you. 

If only he looked at you this way when he's sober.

Getting him to the car might be the hardest part of this excursion; it takes you and Joy to get him into your passenger seat without banging his head on the roof like last time. But this isn't your first Drunk Rhett Rodeo; Lord knows it ain't Joy's either. It might even break your previous record of five and a half minutes. Not that you were counting.

"Where we goin'?" He chirps the moment you've clambered into the driver's seat. 

"Home." It's the only response you've got. Not entirely sure if he's got the capacity to follow long sentences. 

But his head cocks to the side like a goddamn puppy. "My home, or...home home?" 

Ice forms in your wrist. Suddenly caught before you can turn the key in the ignition. Is he...? It's gotta be. What else would he be referring to? 

"Home home?" More of a question than anything, but he's not sober enough to notice the difference. That grin simply grows a little bigger. His boots kicking against your floorboard, happy as a clam in high water. 

It doesn't fade, either. Even as you get the car going, and he fusses about leaving his truck behind, he doesn't lose the excitement that bloomed the moment he laid eyes on you. Content to sit here and let you drive, looking out the window and commenting on whatever he sees. The crazy lady on Second Street has added more flamingos to her lawn hoard, and someone's mailbox has been knocked over. What does that sign say over there? 

"So what's your soulmate like?" You ask, reaching to turn down the radio. "You haven't said anything about her." 

Rhett's shoulders rise and fall with a shrug so subtle that you nearly miss it. "They're alright," pause. Then, a weary laugh. "I jus' wish they'd like me back."

Yeah. You understand the feeling. 

He doesn't seem to notice the petals clinging to the lower strands of his hair and into his flannel, hanging off the edge of his pocket and accumulating in his lap. They're identical to the ones sitting on your dash, dry and shriveled from the sun, bouncing as your front tire hits a pothole. 

Now that you give it some thought, you suppose that's why he's drunk. 

"My throat hurts," he grumbles out of the blue, rattling you from the sanctuary of your thoughts. 

You hum, not entirely there. "Getting sick?" 

Quiet, he reaches into his flannel pocket, producing a small assortment of something green. Rose stems, their thorns stained with crimson. There's no way that he's...

Your tire smacks the edge of a curb. The steering wheel yanking out of your hands.

Shit. 

Right. The road. 

"You've been coughing those up?" Voice strained by your heart, sitting high in your esophagus. You're so damn lucky that was a concrete curb and not another car. 

And yet, you dare to peer at him through your peripheral. Those stems still resting in his big palm, as if he doesn't have the strength to put them away again. You reckon he's not sober enough to have noticed your mistake. He would have commented on it by now, making fun of it as if he's any better of a driver. 

"Fuckin' hurts," it comes out softly, a confession that his own ears are afraid of. 

And it's the kind of statement that echoes throughout your car for the rest of the drive. Rattling between the pauses between songs and bubbling to the surface at every lull of the music. Clouded over by too many wonderings of how long he's been quietly dealing with the roses growing in his lungs. A condition so extreme that the stems are beginning to come up, too. 

You would ask why he's never told you about this, but...

Rhett's head cracks against the window with a heavy thunk as you pull into the driveway. So sharp and sudden that you fear he's broken the glass. But the only wound to come out of it is the red spot on his forehead, the color already rising to the surface by the time you put the car in park.

"Did that hurt?" It's impossible to ward off the lightness in your tone; a smidgen amused. 

"Nuh-uh," but he's rubbing at it like it does. 

You shouldn't have believed him, either, because by the time you get him through the door, it's already begun to swell. Miniscule at first, but if you give it some time, it'll grow into a proper bump. One that he'll grimace at in the morning but will lie through his teeth when you ask if it's hurting him. 

If he were sober, he would be nipping at your palm for daring to venture near his face; you can hear it now, the prematurely yelped "'m alright!" before you've even opened your mouth. But he's not sober. Has to put his hand on your waist to stabilize himself, not entirely aware of how you're curling your hands around his cheeks, holding him still. 

You don't think this one will rise too horribly, but you've been wrong before. Like how you insisted the cut on your side was just a scratch and wound up needing more stitches than you knew how to count. 

"Will you let me put ice on it?" You find yourself asking, your fingers drifting up to smooth over the bump. 

Defiant, his head shakes. 

"What if I order a pizza? Will you let me then?" Trying again. But even at the prospect of his favorite drunk snack, he's not interested. 

"Ice cream?" No.

"A movie?" Wrong again.

"Two movies?" Nope.

"A promise to never speak of this again?" Nada.

Huffing, you let go of his face, throwing your hands in the air instead. "Is there anything I can bribe you with?"

His brows furrow. A thought flickers behind his eyes.

Slowly, he nods. 

You've got a bad feeling about whatever this could be, but God, it's too late for you to care. "What is it?"

Even if he would have let you go on for the next century, you would have never guessed that he wanted this. 

Here in the soft sanctuary of your cozy little unmade bed, nestled beneath the myriad of sheets and blankets that you swore you'd throw into the washer three mornings ago. There might be a few crumbs left over from your snack last night, too distracted by the video on your phone to notice the mess until it was too late. 

The state of it all would bother you under normal circumstances, but you reckon you're getting contact drunk. Head spinning at the sight of this cowboy, snug as a bug in your bed, his cheek squished against the spare pillow. His arm has wound up draped over your side, over the sheets, and you can't remember when your hand drifted to his face, thumb swiping back and forth over his scruffy, unshaven jaw.

For once in your life, you can breathe.

You've started to forget what that was like.

He's so unnervingly close that you reckon he can hear the hammer of your heart rattling against your chest like a caged animal. Furious. Determined to burst through and spill its contents for him to see. The devil on your shoulder suggests that you should let it happen; chances are, he won't remember any of this come morning. But the soft, whiney voice of the angel reminds you. 

Rhett's got a soulmate. And it isn't you. 

"What made you ask for this, anyhow?" The sound of your voice comes as a surprise; one of those thoughts that have journeyed to your mouth, rather than staying up in your head. 

Those sleepy blues peel open; maybe the slightest bit cross-eyed perfectly matches that crooked little grin. "'s like a sleepover."

There's a word you haven't thought of for a while. Probably hasn't surfaced in your vocabulary since your early teenage years, arising in arguments about how unfair it was that hitting puberty meant no more sleepovers. It was okay before, so why did it become a problem when your ages started ending in 'teen'? 

Hesitant, your attention drifts to the tattoo on your wrist—that not-so-lucky horseshoe. A symbol that only became a problem in your second year of high school when your heart decided that it wanted your best friend over a soul mate. "Like the ones we're banned from?"

"Uhuh," his foot juts out to kick your ankle, "'cause we're too damn old." 

You're kicking him back before you can think twice about it. Old habits be damned; you're not letting him get a shot in without getting one yourself. But he's already fighting back, socket feet smacking against yours. Tangling. Fighting to get one punch in over the other. His leg bangs against your knee. Your hands lightly shove against his chest. 

All of a sudden, Rhett's lurching forward.

The room spins.

And you're lying on your back. Caged beneath the broad frame of a man proven to handle animals over a thousand pounds heavier than you. His hands planted on either side of your head, knees straddling your hips. Long hair strays into his face, slipping out from behind his ears, but it's not enough to block your eyes from locking.

You're itching to reach up and tuck it back into place. To drift your palms across the roughness of his cheeks and trail a thumb over those thin lips. They're bitten to all hell, but try as you might, you can't imagine they're anything other than soft. 

Time itself might have stopped. 

God. You can't breathe. Don't know if it's from the infestation building in your lungs or the overwhelming scent of alcohol on his tongue. 

Or maybe...maybe it's because he's gradually growing closer. Minimizing the gap between your bodies, inch by debilitating inch. An image plucked right out of your own imagination, replayed a hundred and one times. 

But this version of Rhett doesn't belong to you. 

The one in your head didn't reek of whiskey and beer. 

"Rhett..." You're whispering as if anything louder will shatter you like glass. But he's still...he's still leaning in, and, and— "Rhett. You're drunk."

He freezes. Stiff as a board. Eyes so wide that his irises look tiny. 

"Shit," jerking away as if he's been burned, "sorry." 

This time, when his back hits the bed, your belly doesn't fill with butterflies. It fills with something much, much worse. 

It's the silence that eats at you the most. He's right next to you, and yet, not a word can leave your mouth. What if you hadn't stopped him? Did he confuse you for the pretty thing at the bar, wandering around with the same marking as him? Your heart lurches in your chest, tummy twisting sourly. God, why are you even entertaining this sort of thing? 

He's your friend. Friends don't think of each other like this, especially when one of them has a soulmate waiting on them. 

A funny feeling swells in the back of your throat, stomach gurgling so loudly that it's got Rhett tilting his head to look at you. 

"Are y—"

You're getting up before he can finish talking. Darting for the bathroom for the umpteenth time today. 

You wake to an empty bed. 

Sunlight trickles through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the freshly made sheets that Rhett once occupied, tucked in the best he could get it. He's been gone long enough for them to feel cool to the touch, but you can't hear him moseying around your house, either.

Your bare feet drift across the chilly, wooden floor, still frozen with midnight's temperature drop. Where Rhett would typically bump the thermostat up a couple of degrees, today, it sits the same as you left it. 

"Rhett?" Voice a smidgen too fragile for the hammering of your heart. 

All you receive is an echo, variants of your own tune. His boots are missing from where they once sat by the front door, and when you creep far enough to peer through the kitchen window into the backyard, you don't find him there, either. The ice pack has been resting in the freezer long enough to begin hardening again. 

And your phone left sitting on the counter overnight, contains a notification from everything and everyone, except for one man. Still the same text messages from three days ago, no matter how many times you refresh the page. But the magnetic whiteboard on the side of your refrigerator has a new smiley face on it. 

...and the marker is once again missing.

With a sigh, you reach for the phone, fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. 09:47 PM

It's not until after you've got a morning drink in hand that you recognize the tire tracks in your front yard. The grass flattened in the corner of your driveway in a fashion that only Perry Abbott can pull off. No matter how many times he's driven here, he's always overshot the turn and ventured into the lawn.

Your phone is still quiet when you cruise through town a little after nine. Rhett's truck is missing from its place in front of the bar, the space now occupied by a vehicle that the Abbotts can't afford. 

 On its own, your heart lurches in your chest. The tail end of a blue pickup is poking out from a streetside parking spot just down the main drag, and that's got to be him. You know this town like the back of your hand. There aren't many trucks that look like Rhett's. If you catch him now, maybe you can smooth things over regarding last night. Before the dust begins to settle and erode away at your psyche—

But Rhett's truck doesn't have stickers. 

This time, you don't make it to the bathroom before that damned sickness overtakes you. Spewing onto the side of the road at the only red light in town, right in front of the old cafe with its outdoor seating. 

A hangover would be more dignifying. At least then, a little old lady wouldn't be tilting her head at you, her kind, wrinkled eyes soft as she offers you a smile. You understand that look more than you'd like to admit. 

It's the same expression you carried when those petals burst from Rhett's mouth. 

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Yesterday.

Odd. Usually he responds fairly quickly, at least when it comes to him hijacking one of your belongings, but maybe he's busy. Summer has never been kind to the Abbotts, between blistering heat and cattle who love to take down the southern fences to get at the neighbor's grasses. Judging by the forecaster rambling on the news, things aren't about to get easier, either. 

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Two days ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. 07:33 PM

No dice. 

How are you meant to leave reminders in the kitchen when a rogue cowboy has pocketed your only marker? It's barely been three days, and you've already started to forget things. Today was laundry day, but now you're standing here, swaddled in Rhett's oversized shirt because it's the only clean thing you have left. Maybe there is a benefit to not returning his clothes. You were meant to go get a spice for this new recipe but didn't remember until you were halfway into working on it. Come to find out, that recipe really, really relied on it. 

You can try to blame your lack of an appetite on your cold, unseasoned dinner all you want, but it only goes so far. Heart lurching in your chest, as the screen lights up with a text.

Autumn: Still coming with us Friday night? 👀 07:51 PM

 You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. One week ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. Five days ago.

You: I'm going to call a bounty hunter if you continue this hostage situation. Three days ago. 

You're getting sick of feeling your heart twist every time you look at this damn screen. But that stupid son of a bitch still hasn't—

"Excuse me," a lady whispers, squeezing past you, "I'm sorry." 

The entrance of Odessa's probably isn't the best place for you to be checking your phone, now that you think about it. 

That's alright; you're already sliding the device into your back pocket, reaching to catch the door before it can close behind her. You've wasted enough time for your friends to have already secured a spot at the Handsome Gambler. It's a wonder nobody hasn't given you a ring to make sure you weren't nabbed off the street. 

Stepping outside does nothing to ward off the drone of multiple shop televisions. All of them moan about how another wicked storm is due to ravage Wabang and every town around it. Same channel. Same woman talking. Same obnoxious blue background. It's a tale you've heard so many times that you can nearly quote it word for word. 

There's a serious storm rolling in tonight. Tornadoes and hail are possible. Here's what to do in a tornado. Do not do these five things in a tornado. Download the news app to stay connected. Tune back in soon to find out if the forecast has miraculously gotten better or worse! 

Looking overhead, you can already see the dark accumulation in the distance, a humid breeze tickling your neck as it drifts past. It feels just like the night you and Rhett rode out into the west pasture to watch the storm roll in. 

Sitting in the grass, watching those dark gray clouds roll closer and closer whilst the horses relaxed behind you, their attentions focused solely on the greenery below. You can still hear the tune blaring from the speaker of his phone. He'd really thought he was clever, playing that Gary Allen song about how every storm runs out of rain. It wasn't so cute when the south pasture flooded. 

A laugh cuts across the evening air. Sharp and pitchy enough to have your head tilting in the direction of it. Right behind you, on the corner of the block. 

Maria Olivares. That's a face you haven't seen in a long while. Wasn't she off to medical school, a couple hours away from here? Who in the world could she possibly be...

You know that cowboy. 

Puzzle pieces click into place. The darkened mark gracing her inner wrist. Too small for you to make out. How she giggles and batts her eyes up at Rhett, as he talks about something in that wonderfully deep voice of his. 

Of course, Rhett's soulmate would be Maria. How could it not be? No wonder why he was so crazy about her in high school; they've got the same damn marking on their bodies. 

As if to spite you, a muscle spasms in the juncture of your wrist. Sourness bubbles in the back of your mouth, but for once, you're able to swallow it down. Not here. Not when either of them can turn their heads and realize that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring like some kind of creep. Even coming from a childhood best friend, that would be weird. 

"Are you in line?" 

You jerk backward. Wide eyes landing on the wirey frame of some middle-aged man standing in front of you. He motions, with the brim of his hat, toward the door. The Handsome Gambler. Your destination.

"Distracted," you blurt, scurrying to grab the handle before he can, "sorry."

"There you are!" A glass of beer rises from the opposite end of the bar. Autumn. "I was fixin' to come looking for you!"

You have to wait until you're within earshot before you can respond to her, squeezing past the group of cowboys crowded at the corner, watching a PBR ride on someone's cellphone. "I was eavesdropping," You supply, can't keep a damn thing to yourself these days, "Maria Olivares must be Rhett's shiny new soulmate."

Autumn's jaw slackens, eyes so big they might comically burst out of her skull, "are you kidding?" 

One of her friends, you forget her name, gives you a gentle nudge with her arm. You suppose Autumn has already filled her in about your situation. "How did you find out?" Her tone is gentle, nearly washed over by the music blaring from the stereo. 

"Saw them laughing together in the street." There's more to that statement, context, and a reason behind why you've come to that conclusion, but Autumn is taking a brightly colored drink from the bartender, passing it your way.

The Handsome Gambler and mixed drinks do not go hand in hand; there's always too much or too little of something. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see the door opening, two familiar frames entering the bar, the happy new couples themselves. 

Tonight, you don't give a damn what these things taste like. So long as it makes you forget the sour twist in your chest, lungs tightening as if all the air has been sucked from them. Without second thought, you bring the glass to your lips.

It doesn't leave until it's halfway empty, and that's only because the need for oxygen has grown superior. 

The lady behind the bar lifts a freshly cleaned shot glass. You've got a feeling that she's overheard your ramblings. "Need something stronger?"

She doesn't need to say another word. "Absolutely." 

One shot. 

Fuck this town.

A second. 

And fuck Rhett Abbott. 

You're feeling delusional enough to ask for a third, but Autumn's nudging you a glass of water instead. It doesn't have the same bite, but it's equally unpleasant against the back of your throat, still raw and sore. 

Next to you, Autumn and her two friends are already delving into a new conversation. Something about the oddities going on around town and how some old man says he walked into a cave and saw a mastodon. You suppose there must be some inside group dedicated to continuing the claim because it's a rumor you've heard every year. 

A smile fights its way onto your face. You and Rhett used to gear up and go mastodon hunting up on the old trails behind the Abbott property. Royal loved to ask what y'all planned to do with it once you caught it, but you and Rhett never thought that far ahead. 

Your gaze follows the bartender, ready to ask for something sweet, but she's on the other end, gathering a dozen beers for a party that just walked in. Someone leans onto the bar. His head blocking part of your view. But then he looks over, and—

Rhett's eyes widen at the sight of you. By the feel of it on your face, the expression is mutual.

At least, it is for a second. That sourness jumps into your throat. Lower gut churning with a fervor unlike ever before. 

"I'm heading out back," you blurt, hand rising to cover your mouth, "you don't wanna follow." 

The girls frown, but they're certainly not making the risk to stop you. Autumn's already reaching for your drink, accepting your nod as a sign that she can finish off what you've got left. A voice jumps across the blare of the music. Almost sounds like the call of your name. But you don't have the luxury of stopping and looking. 

Your feet are barely falling into line. Rushing to push through the men gathered by the back exit. Past the blasting jukebox. There's that tightness in your lungs again. A thick sensation rising higher. Higher. Higher in your throat. There's the door. There's the door. Your hands are reaching out. Grappling at the handle. 

Hinges squeal open. Shoes scuffing on the concrete. 

Vivid purple petals burst past your lips like goddamn confetti. Stems and all. Ripping past your already battered windpipe and sticking to your tongue, little bits of purple carrying in the wind. 

Those three-petalled flowers were pretty until they started growing in your lungs. You can't stand the sight of them, but you've got no choice but to cough more of them up. As if any amount of effort will make them disappear. 

 A bundle of them have caught in the back of your mouth, stubbornly thwarting your ability to breathe. Light as a feather, your head spins, feet stumbling as you scurry to one of the chairs, sitting against the wall. The plastic groans under your weight, so brittle that it ought to give away at any moment.

Lightning flickers as another wave of flowers rain to the floor, and it's a wonder you can get these out at all. 

The back door opens with a screech. Music pours through the gap, an incoherent tune so loud that you can hardly hear the thunder rolling through town. Someone in boots stumbles out, keeling over.

A bloodstained rose tumbles to the ground, pink and red petals dancing behind it, landing amongst your mess of purple. 

When you lift your head, you know what you're going to see. But that doesn't make the look in Rhett's eyes any easier to bear. Some kind of hellish cross between horror and bewilderment that manages to look akin to a wounded puppy. 

Not a word leaves his mouth. Doesn't get the opportunity to, for that matter, another plume of petals forcing their way past his lips before he can do anything about it. Just the sight of them has that tickle building in the back of your throat, but for the time being, your tank is empty. 

Thunder booms as Rhett falls into the chair opposite you. His hand dips into his flannel pocket, producing...

your marker. 

"'m sorry," he mutters, sentence broken by a cough, "Didn't realize I stuck it behind my ear 'til you texted me."

"Which time?" You can't help the bitterness seeping into your tone, plucking the little writing utensil from his outstretched hand. 

His eyes dart away. 

The tension in the silence doesn't come from the storm. Wind howling around the corner of the building, rustling through the trees. Lightning flickers, illuminating the world around you for the briefest of moments, and just like that, rain begins to fall. Coming down in a thick sheet, so strong that even under the awning, it manages to reach you, mist tickling your skin and dampening your clothes.

Idle, your fingers twist the marker back and forth; it's still warm from where it rested in his pocket, snug against his chest. A part of you wonders if he always runs this hot or if your hands are just cold from the Wyoming air.

"So you and Maria, huh?" Even with the roar of the storm, your voice is too loud; a megaphone in the library would be more tolerable. 

"Nah, I just ran into her 'bout a half hour ago." Rhett's head shakes, eyes on the floor. "We were both goin' to the same place, 'n that was about it."

"Damn, and here I thought she was your soulmate." You hate that a selfish part of you floods with relief. So overcome with it that you can feel the way your shoulders drop. "It would have made for the perfect story."

You could have been the perfect story, too.

"I don't know why I liked her in high school," he's continuing, running a hand through his hair, fingers visibly catching on a tangle, "'s like talkin' to a fuckin' wall."

Of all the things you've imagined him saying, that wasn't even close to making it on the list. Though, you can't say he's entirely wrong; ever since that time you got paired with Maria for a history presentation, you haven't been able to see what's so interesting about her, either. Nothing but one-word answers and giggling with her friends while you worked on the assignment by your lonesome. 

It may be petty, but you're still bitter. 

"I'm sorry, I..." Rhett's talking again, caving to the silence that you've unintentionally put between you two. His hands fall into his lap, clasping together. Then, break apart just as quickly, one of them reaching up to rub at his forehead. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you the other night."

"It's alright—" your tongue pauses before the rest of your sentence can follow. I wanted you to. But you're looking down at your tattoo, and it's still the same horseshoe. It doesn't match Rhett's. 

It will never match Rhett's. 

Finding your voice is damn near impossible, but you do it anyway. "You've done stranger things while under the influence." 

"Like gettin' a DUI on the back of a horse?" He says it so bluntly that you can't help but sputter. 

It's easy. Dissolving into laughter. Peering at each other through smiling eyes. Yeah, getting a DUI on horseback is much, much worse than trying to steal a kiss. You've still got the voicemail from when Joy called you in the dead of night, asking you to come get Rhett and his horse. 

White flashes. Lighting up the world for the briefest moment. An ear-splitting crackle erupts from above. So loud that the town lights flicker in unison like a bunch of candles nearly blown out by the squealing wind. 

"'s gettin' pretty bad out here." The sound of Rhett's voice is nearly lost to the ringing in your ear. 

"Tell me about it," you lean forward, peering over at the miniature river that runs down into the alleyway, carrying with it a parade of purple, pink, and red flower petals. "The road'll be flooded by the time Autumn decides she's ready to leave."

Rhett's head tilts to the side. "You didn't drive?" 

"Couldn't." Shocker, you know. "I had a hot date with a shot of whisky."

"Two from what I saw," so he was watching you do that, huh?

You wink. "I would have made it three if I knew you were watching."

Something crackles in the distance. Maybe a tree struck by lightning, bits of bark falling like rain. A little too close for comfort, whatever it was.

That tickling rises in the back of your throat once more. Forces another cough out of you. The purple petals catch in the wind before they can hit the ground, soaring off like tiny planes. Rhett's eyes follow them until they're out of sight. 

All of a sudden, he rises to his feet, spurs chiming with the motion. Must have forgotten to take those off again. "Need a ride?" Offering his hand. 

You take it before you even realize what he's asking. 

A part of you is beginning to suspect that Autumn can see into the future because she's hardly phased when she turns her head to see you meander back into the bar, hand in hand with Rhett. Her white teeth flash you with a smile, perhaps a little too interested in whatever Billy Tillerson is babbling into her other ear. With their hands intertwined, you can hardly tell that they've got timers imprinted on their wrists, bearing identical numbers.

Autumn doesn't need to ask when you hand her the twenty from your pocket; in the time you've known each other, you've proven to be a creature of habit. Instead, she offers you a wink, not a word said. 

Rhett's already by the door, working his beat-up wallet back into his jeans before he can set it down and forget that it's there. "Y' ready to get wet?" He chirps once you're within earshot. 

You're not, but there's no stopping the rain now that it's coming down. "Ready as I'll ever be." 

The door creeks open. A gust of wind rushes in through the gap. Slams you with the force of a freight train. Damn near strong enough to knock you on your ass. But Rhett's grabbing hold of your wrist and him hauling you forward is the only thing keeping your feet from being swept out from under you. 

Freezing rain splatters against your skin like a million tiny bullets. So sharp you think they might pierce through and come out the other side. A sheet of white blinds you. Forced to lower your head and prey Rhett's hauling you the right direction. The sidewalk is already flooded. Splashing up to lick your ankles. Soaking through your shoes. 

You're moving. You know you're moving. But you might as well be on some hellish treadmill because it doesn't feel like you're going anywhere.

All of a sudden, Rhett's pulling you to the right. Toward the curb. Reaching for the handle. Yanking so hard you can hear it over the rain. 

It opens. You're inside within the very same second. Clambering into the cloth passenger seat, pulling your legs in, just as Rhett slams the door shut. Through the blurry dash, he's only identifiable as a big blue splotch, travelling around the front of his truck. His door rips open just as quickly, the vehicle rocking as he all but throws himself inside.

"'s fuckin' cold!" He sputters, blindly jabbing the key at the ignition. Miss. Miss again. Another miss. He tilts his head. It slides home. 

It's been a minute since the last time you heard this old truck roar to life. Even longer since you've last felt your skin go this numb. Shivering like a leaf, nerves so ruthlessly beaten by the elements that they're shot. There's a texture to this seat. You know there is, but you can't feel it. 

A weary hand darts out. Wavering back and forth. Narrowly misses the little heat dial.

"Ain't got heat, remember?" Rhett almost sounds guilty, though you can't say for sure. It's hard to get a read of his face when he's focused on putting the truck into gear, looking straight ahead as he pulls onto the road. Though you're not entirely sure why, he's still got that old—

...no. His spare shirt is still sitting in your clothes hamper, next in line for a wash. Even if you had miraculously known to carry it with you tonight, there's no way it would have done you any good. Not with how soaked your clothes are, dripping like you've just gone for an impromptu swim in the coldest river you could find. 

Your arms rise to wrap around yourself, clinging to what little body heat you've got left. A jacket. Why didn't you think to carry a jacket? Lightning flickers. Crackling so loudly that you can feel it travel through the ground; almost sounds as if it's laughing at you. 

Even in the safe confines of this truck, the win threatens to wriggle in and get ahold of you. Screaming around the truck. Whipping past light posts. Rattling them so hard that they sway back and forth. Something is telling you that a power outage is in your near-to-distant future. With how you can look out the back window and see it ravaging the main part of town, there's no way it's not going to take out a power line. One little mess up is all it takes to plunge this little town into darkness. 

There's already a tree down. Its long branches obstructing part of the road, forcing Rhett onto the other side to squeeze past. 

"'m I over far enough?" He sounds like he's got a handle on it, head tilting back and forth, drawing the truck closer and closer to the edge of the road. 

Your eyes squint. Struggling to see through the window. "I think so."

It's an obstacle easily overcome, but as you begin to pick up speed once more, a new problem arises. Those poor little windshield wipers can hardly keep up with the rain. Coming down in sheet after sheet, splattering against the glass quicker than it can be swept off. Driving in the ocean would have better visibility.

"Can't fuckin..." Rhett's talking to himself. You hope he's talking to himself because you can't hear him over the chatter of your teeth. Trembling like some kind of exaggerated cartoon character.

The truck gently veers to the right, off into some kind of gravel space on the side of the road, grinding to a halt.

"The— the wipers can't go any faster?" Tongue limp in your mouth. Impossible to move.

Rhett's head shakes. "No, they don't..." 

His eyes lock onto yours. Even that might be enough to eat away some of the ice forming in your bones. His jaw softens. Eyelashes fluttering with an incoming thought.

Slow, his arm rises from his side, extending your direction. "C'mere."

Your breath catches. Is that...no, you....you shouldn't—

"Promise I won't kiss ya," his fingers tap your shoulder, "'m jus' gonna warm ya up."

Another bolt of lightning flashes. 

You're scooting across the bench seat before thunder even has the chance to arise. Slipping beneath his outstretched arm, helpless to do anything but fall into his big chest, equally soaked as you are, but he's warm. A big furnace, wrapping around and squeezing you into him. 

He shifts the slightest bit, leaning against the door, opening himself up for you to properly squirm into his side. With such little space in this truck, it's a squeeze, but you fit nonetheless, cheek resting atop that old bucking bull tattoo, the scruff of his jaw tickling your forehead. 

Another rumble rolls through, wind slamming into the side of the vehicle, rocking it back and forth like some kind of giant cradle. Rhett's legs shift, properly rising up onto the seat, knees knocking into yours as they settle. There's no way that you can feel his body, not with those thick jeans in the way, but a part of you swears that you can. So certain of it that you think the ice in your bones is beginning to thaw.

A big, warm hand runs up and down the expanse of your arm as if to create a little friction there. "Can y' still feel your hands?" He murmurs, voice rumbling against the top of your head, and you think that's the tip of his nose bumping into you.

You're wiggling your fingers, can see them moving in the darkness, but hardly any sensation comes of it. Feels as if you're operating a separate object and not a part of your own body. "I don't know." 

He reaches down, both hands wrapping around yours, and immediately, it's as if you've been set ablaze. Fire burning in your frozen joints, sensitive to even the slightest change in temperature. Rhett's thumb swipes against yours, a rough glide, his skin weathered by a lifetime of labor on the ranch. 

They're so much bigger, too, dwarfing yours in comparison, long and thick with muscle and built-up callouses. He must be noticing it as well because he's sliding his index finger down next to yours, and even in the dark, you can tell that he's at least twice the size. So big that you can hold just the four of his fingers, and not even need the rest of his hand.

You don't know why you're doing this or why he's letting you. 

Careful, your gaze crawls upward, roaming over the wet fabric of his flannel, up his damp neck, and the dripping curls resting at his nape. And he's...

he's already looking at you. Half-lidded eyes fixated on your face, the corner of his lip twitching upward for the briefest moment. A tickle rises in the back of your throat. Nothing comes of it. Lightning lights up the world like a light switch flicked, but you don't hear the thunder that follows. 

His nose bumps into yours. Breath fanning out against your skin. 

This...you shouldn't...but...

Those blue eyes drop down to your lips. Then back up to you. His eyelashes flutter. You think yours might, too. He's so close. Can feel the stubble on his chin brush against you, a fleeting thing that you can somehow still feel, even after the contact breaks. A breath trickles out of your chest. The slightest little movement that brushes your bottom lip against his. And he's not moving away, he's—

An ear-splitting boom tears past the truck. Rattling it back and forth. Sends you and Rhett jumping. Your head bangs against the seat cushion. His elbow hits the horn. 

"The hell..." he grumbles, with a shake of his head. "Was that s'pposed to be thunder?" 

"Is that what it was?" Parroting him, looking toward the window as if that could possibly give you an answer. 

The rain has slowed into a slow trickle that is easily swept away by the windshield wipers, unveiling the world around you once more. You recognize where you're at now, just two or three miles down from your house.  So damn close, and yet...

"Let's get you home," Rhett's sitting up, and you've got no choice but to do so as well. The scoot to the passenger side is almost shameful, the cold, soaked seat squishing beneath you like a sponge. 

A thick collection of petals swell in the back of your throat as Rhett's foot finds the gas pedal once more. Were you about to kiss him? What the hell were you thinking? That isn't how this works. You're not soulmates.

Somehow, the air has grown even colder without him wrapped around you, his very presence haunting you like a ghost. Lingering in the back of your mind so strongly that you can almost deceive yourself into believing that you're still snuggled into his side. But no matter how hard you focus, you can't force it to manifest into reality. 

Cruel is what it is.

Even as the rain picks up once more, it's not enough to pull you over again, swept away from the windshield as quickly as it lands. There's another tree down, but it has barely made its way into the road, such a simple obstacle that only takes a second or two to get past. And just like that, your porch light is emerging in the distance. A golden glow that grows larger by the second, like a tiny sun rising to greet you.

The gravel driveway crackles beneath the tires; it's usually a pleasant sound, but today, all it does is cause your stomach to sink. Such a sour feeling that it rises, flower petals tickling the back of your throat until you cough. Little bits of purple scatter across your lap. Rhett's foot jumps to the brake pedal, a soft squeal emitting from beneath the vehicle as it comes to a stop. 

You've never been so disappointed to see your front door. 

"Thank you," barely a whisper as it leaves your mouth. Anything louder might break you.

He nods, eyes darting from your lap and up to your face. "Yeah." 

The only sound in the truck is that of the frozen rain pitter-pattering on the metal roof. Nothing more. Nothing less. With a forced, tight-lipped smile, you reach for the door handle. It opens with a groan, creating just enough space for you to slip out, the oversaturated ground squelching beneath you. He doesn't say anything as you shut the door, so neither do you. 

Resigned to silence, you trudge through the rain. Wind rips past, determined to lift you up off the ground and whisk you into the sky. But you don't lift off the ground. You don't even slip. Your feet find the front steps of your porch, hand fishing into your pocket and producing a set of drenched keys.

The confines of your home are so much warmer than it was outside, and yet, as you toe off your muddy shoes, you can't help but compare it to Rhett. Your heater may be strong, but it doesn't wrap around you the way his arms did. Big. Secure. The kind of thing you thought only existed in your daydreams. 

Strange, you don't hear his truck pulling out of the driveway. You know he hasn't; that old GMC runs far too loudly for it to slip by unnoticed. Curious, you hook your finger into the blinds, pulling them down.

No, he hasn't moved at all.

...what's he doing out there? Even from here, you can tell that the storm is picking back up again, rustling through the trees, swaying them back and forth. 

Nothing has fallen or otherwise obstructed the driveway, and something couldn't have gone wrong. Not that quickly. Unless he's suddenly developed the ability to hear your heart hammering against your chest, wordlessly begging him not to leave your driveway, there's no reason for him to still be parked. 

The cab light flicks on. Then off again. All of a sudden, he's rounding the back of his truck. You're opening the door, socked feet stepping out onto the cold, wet porch. His spurs chime, boots thumping up one stair. Two. Three. Four. No, no, something must have happened. His eyes are wide, and his jaw is slack, looks half scared to death. 

But he's not stopping. 

"Rhett—"

"I forgot somethin'." One more step, and he's leaning down, and, and...

It's the simplest of things, merely pressing against each other for a long moment, but heaven itself cannot compare to the feeling of Rhett's lips against yours. His nose crushed uncomfortably against your cheek, big hands cradling your cheeks like you'll break if he doesn't. 

Just as quickly, he draws away, soft blue eyes meeting with yours. Lightning flashes, but even the following slam of thunder cannot stop you from grabbing a fistful of his flannel and yanking him in once more. Lips crashing together, feet stumbling with the force of it. One of his arms is wrapping around your waist and your hands are sliding up into his hair. Bold. As if this is familiar, something you've done every day of your lives. 

The press of his mouth and the stubble of his chin are so much more than your imagination ever could have crafted. Warm and scratching against you so deliciously that your head goes quiet. Soul mate markings be damned. This is where you're meant to be. Right here. Twisting your fingers through his unruly curls, gasping against him. Drowning as he kisses you again, and again, and again. 

Your head is spinning. Stumbling blindly as he leans into you, forcing you backward. Your heel catches on the doorway. "Rhett—" But you don't fall. You can't. Not with that strong arm around you. "Cowboy!" 

"You're the only one that's ever called me that." He breaks away, kicking at the door with his foot. There's no doubt a mud stain on the white frame now, but you've hardly got it in you to care. 

"What?" Your nose bumps into his cheek. A little too close.

"Cowboy." He mutters, lips brushing against yours. So, so close. 

A breath hitches in your throat. "Should I stop?"

"Never." And he's kissing you again. 

Muffled thunder rumbles outside, and you're pretty sure the power has gone out, but you can't open your eyes to check. Helpless to do anything but tug on his hair, drinking in his deep grumble like you're starved. You should be embarrassed. Shouldn't be this desperate over a first kiss. 

But Rhett's got it just as bad. Pushing you backward until you're bumping into the wall. His big, calloused hand is venturing beneath your soaked shirt. God, and you're letting him. Back arching as his fingertips trail up your spine, chest pressing into his. Gasping against his lips like you're trying to put on a show. 

More. You want more. Reaching down to toy with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one at a time, shaking fingers struggling to push them through the holes. Too eager to feel the expense of his chest beneath your palms. 

"You're gonna have t' stop me," Rhett's speaking against your lips, batting your hands away. Makes no effort to finish your handiwork as he yanks the flannel off his shoulders, the final three buttons snapping off and scattering across the hardwood floor.

Before you can stop it, your hand drops to his belt, pulling him closer. Earns you an affectionate chuckle that echoes throughout the house. Those hips of his press forward, obnoxiously large buckle digging into your belly, not an inch of space left between your bodies. 

"Why would I stop you?" It's too early for you to be reaching down to grab at the hem of your shirt, but you don't care. You want this damn thing off. The soaked fabric stubbornly clings to your frame, heavy as you drag it over your head. It hits the floor with a wet thunk, a mess for the future version of you to handle. 

Those deep blue eyes might eat you alive. "Good point." 

It's hard to tell who makes the next move. All you know is that you're leaning in to kiss him, noses crashing together, and his hands are appearing on your ass, squeezing until you get the hint to jump. It all happens so fast. The thunk of your back against the wall. His hips slotting between your thighs. 

"Y' feel what you're doin' to me?" He grunts, and he doesn't need to specify for you to know what he's talking about—heavy bulge straining against his jeans, pressing perfectly against your core, igniting a familiar heat there. 

"Uhuh," is all you're capable of. Greedy hands sliding across his chest and up his shoulders, feeling over all the little freckles and marks that have haunted your imagination. Fuck, and he just lets you. Too busy leaning in to steal a kiss off you. One. Two. Three. Before he shifts to the juncture of your jaw, stubble tickling as he kisses down your neck.  

Your hips buck forward. 

"Fuck," Rhett's voice tickles your ear, "shoulda let me kiss you earlier, sweetheart."

A shiver ripples down your spine. That's new. 

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Finding your words is a task in of itself. Hard to do much of anything when his lips find the soft spot beneath your ear, sucking lightly. 

"You were drunk," voice strained, wound too tight in your throat. 

"Felt pretty sober in the moment," He hums, tongue poking out to wet your skin. Fuck, you wonder what that would feel like in other places, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter around his hips, works a groan right out of him. 

Thunder booms outside, but it's not enough to stop your lips from crashing once more. Teeth clattering, hopelessly grinding down into him, and even these layers of clothing can't stop you from feeling the way he twitches. 

It's all a blur. 

One moment, you're up against the wall. The next, you're on the ground again, socks sliding against the floor as you stumble down the hall. Hands tangled in his hair. Gasping against his lips. Moving blindly, too focused on each other to spare even a second. You don't know you're in the bedroom until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, falling backward with a yelp. 

Fuck, you shouldn't be doing this. There's no reason for you to be letting Rhett Abbott climb into bed with you and slot his big, warm body between your legs. He's your friend. You've known him since you could walk. And these tattoos. They don't match. You're not soulmates. 

Rhett's hand rises, pinning yours to the mattress, fingers slotting together. Must know what you're thinking about. "Who gives a fuck 'bout soulmates," he whispers, leaning forward to bump his nose against yours, rubbing them back and forth. "A damn stranger ain't gonna make me as happy as you do."

And you don't...you don't know what to say. 

Maybe you don't need to say anything because he kisses you like he's heard everything your heart has to tell him. Stealing your breath away, plucking every little flower from your lungs, so dizzying that your legs have to curl around him to keep from floating away. As if you could possibly escape the big, warm arms that have settled on either side of your head. 

Slow, his weight settles on top of you. Bellies snug together. So close that you can hardly grind up into him, reduced to a needy squirm, whining high in your throat. 

"Shh," he coos. A big hand curling around your cheek, thumb stroking the thin skin there. "I'll take care of you."

He's already making good on his promise, pulling away to kiss down your neck once more. Hot tongue poking past his lips, running over a vein, leaves behind a glistening trail as he makes his way to your collar. One of his hands dips behind your back, pinching the clasp of your bra, opens it so easily that it almost surprises you.

The last thing you expect is for him to gasp when he pulls it away. Awestruck by the sight of you, bare, for his eyes only. "So fuckin' pretty," whispering, as he kisses down your chest. Too eager to run his tongue down the swell of your breast, so content that his closed eyes seem to smile. 

Oh, that's...

"Rhett..." Heat swells in your lower belly. The feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple is...truly something... 

Just as quickly, he's darting to the other one, all too excited to feel the little bud harden beneath his touch. Sensitive. Only takes the slightest bit of suction to make you jolt. But he must have noticed something even more enticing because he's pulling away from that one as well, a big hand rising to toy with it as his head dips down lower. 

A delicate kiss presses to the scar on your left side. 

Then another. And another. And another. Loving on the old wound, as if he can possibly reverse the damage if he gives it enough attention. Maybe just one more kiss will do it. If not, then surely the next one can make it happen.

"It was nobody's fault," you say softly, reaching to run your fingers through his hair once more. Truly, it wasn't. Nobody could have anticipated that shard of glass. 

"I know," the rumble of his voice tickles, pausing to run his tongue up the expanse of the mark, "jus' wish it didn't hurt ya like it did."

Gradually, he draws himself away from your side. Kissing his way down your belly until he meets the thin, delicate band of your underwear. His eyes peer up at you with a silent question. Your answer comes in the form of lifted hips, allowing him to pull the material down your legs. Then, he reaches for his belt, pinching it open with mesmerizing ease.

One boot thunks against the floor. Then the other. You really hope he didn't track mud all over your hardwood.

"You and that obnoxious buckle," the comment slips off your tongue before you can stop it. Too busy watching him undress. It's unfair how well the fabric clings to his thighs, fitting him like a damn glove. 

He laughs, kicking his jeans off his feet. "What, don't think it looks good on me?" 

"If I answer that, your ego will go through the roof." Your eyes roll; the last thing you need to do is tell him that, yes, you do like it. Lord only knows he'll run himself through four more rodeo seasons, trying to score an even bigger buckle. 

"Already has," he winks, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his boxers.

You don't know what he's got to be so confident about until...

"Jesus, Rhett."

"What?" He grins. Absolutely fucking obnoxious. But you can't formulate a single word. "What?"

Your thighs cinch together, hiding yourself from view. There is absolutely no reason why that should be springing up from its confines, so heavy that it smacks against his hip, unable to stand up against his belly. So wet that even in the dark you can see him glistening.

"Naw, y' don't gotta be shy," Rhett's hand travels up your knee, slipping between your closed legs, callouses dragging deliciously against your sensitive skin, "'s just me." 

A little too easily, you fall apart once more, feeling a little too exposed as his hungry eyes rake down your body. Every imperfection and curve is on full display. An exhibit of the life you've lived. And Rhett just might be your biggest admirer, his warm frame slipping between your legs, big hands gliding up your sides, pressing lazy kisses as he settles on top of you. 

"Rhett..." you don't know why you're saying his name, thighs curling around his sharp hips. His cock head bumps into the meet of your thigh, sends you jumping before you can realize what's happened.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya," uttering beneath his breath, a sentiment meant for your ears only. "I promise." He reaches between your bodies, gently guiding himself to—

Your head tilts back with a gasp. That's new. The delicate drag of Rhett's cock, gliding between your folds, the underside of him nudging at your clit. Hadn't realized you'd gotten this worked up until now, so wet that you can almost convince yourself that you don't need any lube at all. Not a hint of dryness to be found, sliding so, so easily against you.

But then you're gathering the courage to peer down between your legs, and even the darkness can't hide how big he is. Thicker than your daydreams have ever depicted, just a hair longer than any of the toys hiding beneath the bed.

"Bedside table," you blurt, heart fluttering in your chest. Walking is a privilege you'd like to keep. 

An unforeseen positive to letting your best friend between your legs is the fact that he knows exactly what you're trying to say. No need for questions as Rhett reaches off to the side, hand disappearing into the drawer. Comes back with the bottle, then delves back in, producing some tiny, round hunks of plastic.

You don't recognize them until he flicks one on—the tiny, fake candles from a few Halloweens ago.

"How romantic," there's a strangeness to this that you didn't expect; oddly casual, even with this newfound situation. 

"What?" He asks, innocent as can be, like you have a choice in the matter, already putting one flickering candle off to the side. Another, next to your hip, and he's still got four or five of them left to turn on. "Ain't in the mood for some mood lightin'?"

Lying to yourself is fruitless. The soft golden glow is a welcomed addition to this dark little bedroom. Highlights the room just enough for you to catch the way he drizzles the lube into his palm, reaching down to spread it over himself. That big hand almost tricks you into believing his cock is smaller than it really is, the flushed tip nudging at your cunt with every upward glide. 

They say monsters hide in the dark, and you know you caught sight of one between his legs. 

Two fingers press into you. No warning to be found, the thick digits easing in like they've done it a million and one times, crooking upward, dragging against your walls. There's the slightest hint of a stretch, a soft ache that—

You suck in a breath, a soft noise escaping past your lips. 

Rhett's cock twitches against you. "'s that it?" 

Weak, you nod. Don't trust yourself to speak. Not with him gradually beginning to move, shallowly pumping those long digits into you, never pulling out far enough to make you feel empty. But it's so hard to stay quiet when he continuously rubs up into those little nerves, nudging them on every pass over. 

"Rhett..." hips writhing against the bed, not sure if you want to lean into it or squirm away. 

That must be all that he's planning to give you because all of a sudden, he's drawing away. Wet fingers glisten in the candlelight as he reaches for his cock once more, guiding it back between your folds. Not entirely the same as what you had before, but the drag of his cock head against your clit is so, so worth the exchange. 

His warm chest settles against yours once more, lips finding your cheek, scratchy jaw tickling the skin there. Sounds like he murmurs your name as he travels to the corner of your mouth, pressing another kiss there. Finally. Finally, he meets you for a proper kiss, almost immediately broken by the swivel of his hips, reformed just as quickly.

Your hands are on the move. One in his hair, the other on his naked shoulder, feeling the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingertips. Strong from a decade of bull riding and all that time spent on the ranch, chiseled and perfect in every way you can imagine. Fuck, it's like he was built just for you and this. Rutting between your legs like he's in heat, dragging against your needy clit until your hips twitch off the mattress, pressing into him. 

Swallowing down his groan is enough to put you up on cloud nine. 

A pressure appears at your entrance—the soft nudge of his tip. Your antics must have caused him to wander a little too far down. But you're pushing down onto him like it was your intent all along, and by God, he's not trying to stop you. 

Rhett stiffens. "You want me to...?" Muttering against your lips, unable to draw himself away any further. 

"Yeah," it's the easiest thing you've said all night.

It's all the encouragement he needs, mouth meeting yours once more. Slow, that pressure between your legs begins to grow, his blunt tip spreading you wide. There's a part of you already beginning to wonder if you should have asked for more lube, but his incessant lips are so damn distracting. Tangling with yours, drawing you into a captivating dance, spinning your head round and round, drawing your mind away from the burn. 

His head slips into you with a soft 'pop,' such an odd little feeling that has you gasping into his kiss, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Now you can really feel him. The delicate drag of his length gradually filling you, centimeter by debilitating centimeter. You'll be waddling come morning. You can already feel it.

There's no way you won't be. Not with how your pussy aches with the overwhelming stretch of him.

"Y' want me to stop?" Rhett's low voice rumbles against your bottom lip; when did the kiss break? 

Thunder rumbles outside, your only reminder of the storm that looms just past the thin walls of your home. Even the memory of running with him in the rain feels like it was forever ago. There were flowers filling your lungs just a few hours prior, but as you draw in a breath, you can't feel a shred of evidence that they were ever there.

"Yeah," nodding, your nose bumping into his, "you're just...a lot." 

God, you shouldn't have said that. 

But it's too late. There's already a wild grin emerging onto his scruffy face, so pleased with your words that his eyes seem to sparkle. As if the sight of you struggling to take his cock wasn't enough of a boost to his ego. 

"'s that it?" Speaking through his smile, still has the audacity to sink even further into you. "Ya never had anything big as me?" 

Your eyes roll so hard that they might get stuck.

All at once, his hips are flush with yours, not an inch of space left, your legs tightening around him as if there's a risk of him pulling back out. But that's not happening. Not with the way he's blindly nuzzling his nose into you, so lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can't hold his eyes open.

"Y' alright?" His eyelashes tickle your cheek as they flutter open.

"Uhuh" is the best that you've got at this given moment. It's so hard to speak when you're so full. Couldn't take another millimeter of him, even if he begged you to. "You can..." pausing for a breath, "you can move."

In perfect synchrony, your attentions flicker down to where your bodies meet. A sight lit by the golden glow of the artificial candles, illuminating the slow withdrawal of Rhett's cock, where you're stretched so wide that you don't think your smaller toys will ever satisfy you again. 

"Shit, look at that," there's no reason why Rhett, of all people, should be so mesmerized by this, but he is, and it makes you fucking dizzy. "'s fuckin' hot."

And then he's sinking back in and—

"Fuck," it's too early for you to be whimpering so high in your throat, but his blunt tip is dragging right against the sensitive nerves hidden within you, and it's so, so much. 

This close, it's hard to miss the way Rhett's breath hitches, "'s that the spot, baby?"

All you can do is nod. Nails biting into his shoulders as he draws back once more, rubbing past that little spot once more. Toys don't normally get this sort of reaction out of you, but there's just something about it being Rhett that's getting to you. Your childhood best friend. The man that your weary heart has yearned for since high school. Eye candy at every rodeo he's ever set foot in. 

His lips find yours, tangling lazily, humming all the while. A part of you wonders if he always demands this many kisses. If he makes a habit of smiling into them. The rest of you knows that he doesn't because otherwise, he'd know that the heavy thrust of his hips would send your teeth clattering together.

"Ow," he's jerking back as if he's not the main culprit behind it. 

His cock head drives right up into those nerves. Sends your back arching up off the bed, pussy spasming around him, and you don't know which of you cry out louder. 

"There, there, there," you're babbling like a fool, but he's already missing it again. Such a minuscule thing that every correction is an overshot. 

Rhett's brows furrow, focusing so damn hard, and yet, "I can't...shit, that ain't it either." 

But you've got an idea.

Without a word, you begin to lean up, foreheads bumping together as Rhett tries to follow along, his big blue eyes so wide that they glisten in the light. Slipping out of you entirely as he falls onto his haunches, looks like a big puppy when he's confused like this.

"On your back," your command is soft. It could easily be bent if he really wanted to, but he's already following through on it, twisting and falling back onto the bed without a fuss. 

Settling into his lap is a feeling you've imagined a million and one times, and yet, somehow, it's unlike anything your mind has ever come up with. Warmth radiating off him like he's a damn heater, broad chest making your hand look impossibly tiny, as you lean on him for balance. He's already one step ahead of you, carefully guiding his cock back to your dripping cunt; all you've got to do is sink down and—

A pair of gasps tear through the room. Louder than the storm raging outside.

"Y' look so fuckin' beautiful on top of me, baby," Rhett sputters, peering up at you as if you've hung the moon and the stars in the sky. 

Already, you're beginning to move. Knees digging into the mattress, palms firm against his chest as you lift yourself up. The curve of his length alone is enough to make your thighs shudder.

"You're not so bad yourself," you're breathless already, hips swiveling, searching for that deceptive little angle. Maybe if you...lean a little further forward...

There it is. 

A tingle ripples up your spine, clamping down around Rhett's cock, and he must feel it because his head rolls to the side, lips parting with a groan that ought to make your head spin. Those big hands settle onto your thighs, gripping like he'll fall off the bed if he doesn't.

"Is that—oh fuck,"  his hips jerk up off the bed, leaking tip kissing those little nerves head on, "is that it?"

You can't answer. Palms shivering against his chest, already fighting to keep yourself upright. An ache blooming in your thighs with every rise and fall, head tilting back, a familiar heat beginning to bloom in your lower belly.

Rhett must be feeling it, too. There's no way he isn't. Head rolling from side to side, back arching off the bed, unable to keep himself still beneath you, a whiny mewl escaping his parted lips. And all it's doing is jostling his length inside of you, sporadically tapping against all those sensitive spots.

A calloused thumb appears on your clit. Not sure when he started reaching down, but it's damn near got you collapsing onto his chest, a tremble setting into your exhausted bones. 

"Fuck, Rhett!" You're squealing, poorly built rhythm already beginning to fall apart. 

Again, his hips snap upward, heavy balls smacking against your ass. "'m sorry, I'm not trying to buck my hips. I just..." he doesn't get to finish that because you're falling forward into his chest, face burying into his shoulder. It's too much. It's too much. 

Big hands settle on your hips. Gripping tight as his knees bend, feet digging into the mattress to pump into you properly. Lewd smacks of skin on skin echoing through the room, artificial candles bouncing with his every motion. 

"Anyone else ever fill your sweet pussy like this?" He rasps in some rumbling, guttural tone you've never heard before. "Hm?"

Your head shakes, but it takes a moment to realize that he can't see what you're doing. Not with you nuzzled up under his jaw. "N-no," whimpering right into his ear. 

Those hands are moving again, gliding up your back, big arms securing themselves around you like a hug, the only damn thing that keeps you from bouncing further up the bed. Your forearms settle on either side of his head, shivering as you try to lift yourself up, but you can only go so far, barely able to meet his eyes.

Lips clash, so loose that it hardly even counts as a kiss. Drinking down Rhett's feeble whine. Makes your head spin so much more than the alcohol ever did. Heat pools between your legs, pussy tightening like a vice around his pistoning cock, thick tip rubbing into those nerves over and over and over. 

You're close. 

"I love you," it slips out of him so quietly that you nearly believe it's a figment of your imagination. "I love you, I love you, I love you." 

One of your hands delves into his hair, noses colliding. Think you might be whispering it back, but you can't hear what's coming out of your mouth. Overridden by the blood rushing to your head and the slap of his skin against yours, and, and, and...

Spots appear in your vision. Body going taut as you cum around him without the slightest warning. Crying out high in your throat, forehead knocking against Rhett's, an invisible flame racing across your skin. Every thrust pushes your head higher into the clouds, could damn near float up to the ceiling if his arms weren't tightening around you, his hips stalling. A melody of whimpers bubbles out of his throat, orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave. 

You think you can feel it. The spasm of his cock and the warmth of his cum painting you white, flooding your pussy so full that you think it's already beginning to pour out of you. His hips jerk up into you, punctuated by a sickening squelch and his own broken moan. 

And yet, somehow, you've got the strength to meet his swollen lips, lazy tongues poking out to twist together like a greeting. Wet and messy as can be, saliva running down your chin, drooling like dogs in the summer sun. Rhett twists beneath you, and you're vaguely aware that the world around you is spinning, falling into the mattress beside him. 

A tickle rises in the back of your throat, forcing a cough out of you. Two purple flowers dance out onto the bed, obnoxiously vibrant and dainty. They've always been small, nothing compared to the roses Rhett's been choking up, but they look even tinier in his sweaty palm.

"Spiderwort," he murmurs after a moment, running a fingertip over their petals. Bleary blues peer flicker up to you, half-lidded and turned upward by his dumb smile.

They've always been his favorite. 

"So there was no girl at the bar?" You ask, hand wandering onto his cheek, curling around it like he's the most delicate thing on this planet. 

His head shakes. "Never." 

There's still a storm lurking outside, rattling the house, lightning and thunder striking the ground with an unmatched fury, but you hardly notice it. Too distracted by the warmth of a cowboy, his legs tangling with yours, uncaring of the mess you've made together. Kissing just for the hell of it, wandering across cheeks and peppering over old scars, musing about the memories attached. 

When you fall asleep, you're not sure, but you wake snuggled into his naked chest, his big arm looped around you like a blanket. Sunshine peeks through the gap in the curtains, the shrill tune of a bird singing her song, and for once, it's dreamy rather than irritating. 

On its own accord, your fingers drift across his sleeping face, warm and maybe the slightest bit flushed. Wandering over the scruff clinging to his jaw, finally at that length where it's grown soft to the touch. Drifting around the minuscule scar above his brow, the only remnant of the night you snuck out together and wrecked the four-wheeler. 

As far as you're aware, Royal never did find out why it started making that funny noise.

...or maybe Rhett was never asleep to begin with because when you look back down, his eyes are open. 

"Keep doin' that," he grumbles, voice deeper than the rumble of last night's thunder, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead. You don't need any further encouragement, trailing your fingertips across his face just for the hell of it.

There are things you should be saying. Discussions to be had about where this puts you and what you are to each other, but the upturn of his lips tells you a million and one words. Seriousness can wait. For now, all you want to think about is this next kiss he's planting on you.

And then another between your eyes, and another on your left cheek, one more on the tip of your nose. Slowly but surely sprawling across your face, peppering you with them so quickly that it feels like the wings of butterflies fluttering against your skin.

"Rhett!" You squeal, pushing at his jaw, but it's no use. He's rolling on top of you, and you're helpless to do anything but squirm and cry out, forced to endure all these kisses. 

As quickly as they start, they stop. 

You're half anticipating them to begin the moment your eyes peel open, but he's not even looking at you. Too focused on something next to his face, just past your wrist.

Or maybe...

"What?" You're not following. 

He leans back, brows furrowed as he looks down at his arm. 

You don't get it. What, was he expecting the tattoos to change overnight? It still looks the damn same to you—

...oh. 

That's not the same marking that has marred your skin from birth. And Rhett's turning his arm to let you see, and it's—

It's the same. Rhett's old bucking bronc, your shoe flying behind its upturned feet. It was never meant to be identical; they were meant to complete each other's picture. 

"Are you serious?" You're sputtering through the smile emerging onto your face, so wide that it shapes your eyes with it. 

And Rhett's not doing much better. Red-cheeked. Grinning from ear to ear. "We just been wrong 'bout it the whole fuckin' time."

This time, when he leans down to kiss you, there isn't a single flower to be found in your lungs. No roses. No spiderwort. Just you and him collapsing into these messy sheets, tangled together as one, matching tattoos at all. 

Separation is only temporary. Breaking apart just long enough to venture into the shower together, uncaring of the tight fit, so long as Rhett's hands are gliding along your body. Tangling together in the kitchen, waiting on the microwave to beep, feet knocking into each other beneath the table like you're five years old, and sharing breakfast at the Abbott house again.

He kisses you in the hallway while mopping up the mud he tracked in. Peppers them along the side of your neck when you stumble out onto the porch to find that a tree has fallen, blocking your driveway completely. Perry says he'll come by with a chainsaw tomorrow afternoon; he could be here within the hour, but you've got the feeling that he's already caught on to what's happened. 

In the middle of summer, you begin to suspect that some familiar flowers are beginning to grow around your home. Vibrant little buds sprout from amidst the dewy grass, nestled against the foundation of your home and roaming out into the lawn, running rampant now that the storm has run out of rain.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. Unless, of course, they're accompanied by spiderwort. 

A few kisses from a cowboy are all they've ever needed.