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thecapricunt1616 · 9 months ago

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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.

𝒞𝒶𝓇𝓂'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

#the bear fic #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fanfiction #the bear fx #the bear hulu #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #the bear fanfiction #carmy the bear #carmy x oc #carmen x oc #carmy berzatto x oc #carmen berzatto x oc

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severalforraelee · 1 year ago

Text

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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#charles leclerc imagine #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfiction #sfrformula1 #sfrthegirls

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sculptorofcrimson · 8 months ago

Text

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…)

#Ushotan #thunder warriors #constantin valdor #ushotan x reader #ushotan x oc #thunder warriors x reader #warhammer 40k #wh40k #warhammer #sculptor of crimson #adeptus custodes #wh40k writing prompts #headcannons

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your-local-simp-writers · 1 year ago

Text

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.

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shyvioletcat · 2 years ago

Text

Hey there @house-of-galathynius! Happy New Year! Although it’s a little late, thought we’d start the year with a bang. That’s your warning there’s smut content ahead. As promised, here’s the conclusion to your fic. Please enjoy! EDIT: just a general note, you might have missed part 1 because I was away from home and couldn’t tag so it’s just linked below.

Part One

CW: smut, very mild swearing

~~~~~

Rowan was miserable.

It has happened again, only this time he’d been the one to cause it. He’d watched Aelin’s car until it was out of sight, willing her to come back just so they could talk this over. But she didn’t, she kept driving while his heart felt as though it was being crushed in his chest. When the other women had cut ties with him over being a single father and all the inconvenience and difficulties that would entail, Rowan hadn’t felt anything. This time… this time he could hardly bear it.

He knew how this would go. There would be an apology and the notion that he wasn’t the problem. That would be a lie in a sense. He wasn’t the problem, but Ivy was. His precious little girl who couldn’t help her circumstances. What hurt the most was that he thought Aelin would be different. The date last night had gone so well, and yet here he was—standing on his front lawn devastated by the world.

Resigned to his fate Rowan gathered himself to prepare what waited for him inside. Lyria was furious, and he’d only made it worse by coming out here and ignoring her protests and Ivy’s distress. He hadn’t thought, he’d just acted. Passing his daughter to her mother he’d made for the front door. Trying to keep Aelin from running had been what mattered in that moment. Now he had to go inside and face the music.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Rowan turned and headed back inside. His bare feet felt heavy as they nearly dragged them over the concrete path. The three stairs of his porch were a feat and the front door might have weighed a tonne. Rowan could hear Lyria talking to Ivy, not loud enough that he could hear her clearly but at least the baby had stopped crying. He came through the entryway to the kitchen and found his daughter clinging to her mother, her eyes still glassy, while the bottle sat in the warmer.

“I guess she’s gone,” was all Lyria said.

“She has,” Rowan replied flatly.

Lyria didn’t look at him as she took the bottle out and wiped it down with a tea towel. “I suppose she’s worth it.”

“Can we not do this now,” Rowan said, voice straining as he tried to keep the hurricane of emotions within at bay.

“If you want to break the rules, rules which you—“

“This is different, Lyria.” He’d snapped and they all knew it, even little Ivy who looked at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t see how it is,” Lyria defended. One handedly she managed to test the heat of the formula and tilt Ivy back so she could have her breakfast.

“Might I remind you that these rules came about because I knocked on your door, ready to pick Ivy up and a complete stranger opened the door,” Rowan said, hands pressed into the counter. “He was smoking with our daughter in the room and you were nowhere to be found.”

Lyria’s face hardened, she wouldn’t have forgotten that. “I made a mistake.”

“And so did I.” He was determined not to raise his voice, but his anger was evident. “But this was different.”

Lyria shook her head. “We’re not doing this now, not in front of her.”

She had a point, it would do Ivy no good to witness this.

“Fine.” Rowan walked over to where Lyria was standing, and ran his hand over Ivy’s fluffy hair before kissing her forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow, little love.”

He wasn’t going to wait around and he needed to contact Aelin to try and rectify this. On his way out of the kitchen he threw his parting words over his shoulder, “You can show yourself out. Take whatever you need for Ivy.”

Rowan knew he was a coward for not facing the situation between him and his ex now. The truth was he didn’t know how to. His friends always remarked that he was an unfeeling bastard, when in fact he felt too much and didn’t know how to express it. It usually came out in anger and broodiness. Lyria had the focus of his anger at the moment and if he talked to her now it would only lead to more arguing—exposing Ivy to that was not what he wanted. She was only an infant but Rowan knew that even now that things affected her.

The bedroom was quiet and Rowan could see the evidence of Aelin’s rush to leave. He ignored that and went for his phone that was on the nightstand where it had been left last night. Seconds later it was in his hand and he was calling Aelin’s number. It rang out—it rang out three times before Rowan decided that texting would be a better option.

Rowan: Aelin… I’m sorry. Can we talk?

He sat on the edge of his bed, the house so quiet he could hear Lyria and Ivy leaving. All he did was stare at his phone, waiting and hoping Aelin would text him back. When his stomach protested from lack of food he went down to the kitchen and made himself some toast. There was still no answer, so in his desperation he sent another one.

Rowan: That was not how I planned for this morning to go. If I could just explain a few things, we can work this out.

Ten painful minutes went past then there was a reply.

Aelin ❤️‍🔥: Did you talk to your ex?

Rowan: No, not yet.

Aelin ❤️‍🔥: Then we’re not talking.

Those four words were like a punch in the gut. Rowan grappled to understand the reasoning of why Aelin would cut him off so decisively. Then it dawned on him that she might not just be protecting herself, she was trying to protect him and Ivy as well. She was a perceptive and compassionate woman. Just from last night he knew how considerate Aelin was of his way of life. She’d not hesitated to cut the date short because Ivy needed to go home, she’d been mildly disappointed, but other than that she hadn’t cared. Aelin had accepted him so quickly that now the way she had refused him hurt.

Feeling defeated, Rowan lay back on his bed and stared at his ceiling. He wouldn’t stay here long, whenever Ivy went to her mother’s house he took the opportunity to get things done around the house that weren’t easy to do while supervising a baby. So Rowan gave himself five minutes, breathing through the hurt and disappointment. There was nothing he could do until he talked to Lyria, and that wouldn’t be until tomorrow afternoon when he went to pick Ivy up. Until then, he just had to bear it.

Sunday afternoon rolled around and it was a little after lunch when Rowan arrived at Lyria’s apartment complex. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was clean and well maintained. It was the same place he and Lyria had shared and it had been easy enough to transfer the lease into solely her name. He had a key, he didn’t use it though, just knocked instead. Rowan wasn’t about to make a hypocrite of himself.

“You look awful,” Lyria said by way of greeting, opening the door wider so that he could walk through.

“Thanks,” Rowan threw over his shoulder and looking for Ivy. She was lying on her mat under the play gym, reaching for the bright coloured toys hanging above her.

The door snapped shut behind him and Rowan wondered how quickly he could get Ivy and leave without being impolite. After the last discussion he’d had with his ex he didn’t suppose politeness was not a priority. All day yesterday he’d been psyching himself up to confront the situation, and then he’d barely slept last night and all his will had drained away. Turns out he’d rather just ignore it, maybe come back to it in a few days when his anger didn’t lurk just beneath the surface.

“Hey there, my girl,” Rowan said as he loomed over Ivy. Her eyes darted up to him and then she smiled, legs kicking out like they could propel her upwards. Just seeing her smiling face made some of the bitterness in him fade away. “You ready to go home?”

“Before cut and run, shouldn’t we talk?” Lyria asked him, doing what he should have.

Rowan stood to his full height and looked over to where she stood on the edges of the living area. With her arms crossed over her chest, Lyria looked determined and not ready to take no for an answer. He took another glance at Ivy, she was content enough so he let her be as he followed Lyria into the kitchen. It made sense to get this over and done with, then maybe he could convince Aelin to speak to him again.

Out of necessity and convenience Lyria’s apartment was small and mostly open planned. There were no walls separating the kitchen from where Ivy played on the floor, so she’d still be able to hear everything. Even if he and Lyria were out of sight they would still have to try and be civil, or keep quiet at least.

Rowan slipped his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “You wanted to talk?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a condition of wants, rather than need,” Lyria responded. “Would you like a drink or anything?”

Rowan shrugged, knowing he must look like a petulant teenager. To try and ease the tension he decided to take her up on the offer. “Water would be good.”

Lyria nodded and went over to the fridge, taking out a jug of chilled water and poured him a glass. She was about to pass it to him when she sighed, delaying the passover.

“Here,” she said and Rowan took the glass when she finally offered it. Lyria moved over to the other side of the kitchen crossing her arms again. “I overreacted.”

Rowan took a single sip and then put the glass on the counter next to him. “You think?”

“Rowan,” his name was a chastisement.

“What, Lyria?”

“I’m trying to make amends and say that, maybe I wasn’t wrong but I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Lyria said.

“Well, thank you for that,” Rowan said.

“This is where you apologise for what you did,” Lyria pointed out.

Rowan had never been a fan of being told what to do, his stubbornness kicked in instantly. “Didn’t I already do that?”

Lyria visibly bristled. “No, you didn’t. You just pointed out my mistakes and then ran out after the woman who made you a hypocrite.”

After 36 or so hours to really think about what had happened Rowan wasn’t going to dispute her. Because he realised she wasn’t wrong. He had broken the rules and his intentions hadn’t been to deceive, he just wanted his relationship with Aelin to progress and he knew she wasn’t going to be problematic. But at the same time he had lied—to both of them. “I was frustrated and I didn’t want to lose her. I didn’t see the point in waiting until the next date, because I knew Aelin would never do anything to hurt Ivy. She’s not like that. I was sick of putting off the inevitable”

“That’s great for you, but my concern,” then she gestured between them, “our concern should be Ivy. And I know I’ve messed up before and that’s why we came up with those godsdamned rules. So when she walked in, holding our daughter I snapped. Like you snapped.”

“You didn’t have a reason to,” Rowan defended.

“But I didn’t know that.” Lyria tensed with every word. “You haven't said a word about who Aelin is. I didn’t know you were seriously dating. It was pretty easy to assume who she might be standing there in your shirt. You might sing her praises now but she is a stranger to me, and should have been to Ivy before you took your relationship any further.”

“Do you need to know my relationship status?”

Lyria gave him a pointed look. “Would you like to know mine?”

That caught him up again. Because if there was someone Lyria was seriously considering for a partner Rowan would want to know about it. He would want to know everything before whoever it was laid eyes on Ivy. He was quickly deflating under his own hypocrisy.

“Yes, I would,” Rowan admitted.

Lyria looked relieved. “So, we’re understanding each other now?”

The anger was slowly seeping from him and just leaving him with disappointment. “Yeah we are.”

“And I’m not saying no to your friend,” Lyria said. “I just… I can see she’s important to you. Why don’t you tell me about her?”

“We met randomly in a bookstore a few months ago,” Rowan said, feeling a little strange opening up like this to his ex after having shut this part of himself off from her for so long. “I paid for her books when she forgot her wallet and she accidentally took my book home, so we met up to give them back. She’d gotten my number when she insisted on paying me back for the books and we’ve been messaging ever since. She’s funny and kind, and she teases remorselessly. I’ve never met anyone like her and I think maybe fate had a hand in what happened in that bookstore that day. This just feels different, this feels like something that could work.”

There was an expression on Lyria’s face he couldn’t quite place. “Have you talked to her since?”

Rowan shook his head and laughed bitterly. “We did a pretty good job at scaring her off.”

Lyria walked over to him, he wasn’t looking at her but he could hear her soft footsteps across the tiles. A hand landed on his forearm, her fingers squeezing gently. That made Rowan look up, and found sympathetic brown eyes fixated on him.

Lyria’s voice was quiet when she spoke. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

The hand on his forearm shifted up to his elbow, and Lyria took a step closer. Her eyes darted away from Rowan’s, before blinking up at him through her lashes. He recognised the move from their time as a couple. Back then a move like this would end up with his hands low on her waist, her chin resting on his chest, then their lips meeting for a kiss. But now wasn’t then.

“Lyria,” Rowan said, a slight warning in his voice as he pulled himself away from her grasp. “You’re not acting like this because you still think there’s a chance, right?”

“It would sure make things easier, don’t you think?” Lyria replied, the words getting stuck in her throat. She was playing it off but Rowan knew her well enough to read between the lines.

“You’re jealous,” Rowan stated.

This time Lyria laughed. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy. Maybe I… I’m seeing some merits of the situation I hadn’t seen before.”

“No, Lyria,” he said simply. “We don’t work and you know that. And it’s also unfair to me that you expect me to be fine with you dating, but when I do you get mad and act like this. We had our time, and we got Ivy from that, that has to be enough for us now.”

“You’re right, as usual,” Lyria conceded as she took herself off to the other side of the kitchen. “I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid.”

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Rowan didn’t want her to spiral into the self loathing she was prone to.

Lyria found a spot to look at on the floor instead of him. “Why? You don’t exactly care.”

“I do care,” Rowan felt that anger he’d been harbouring over the last two days fading completely. “I may not be in love with you, but I do care about you. We just don’t work, and that’s okay. You’ll find happiness with someone someday, just don’t—”

Rowan stopped himself from finishing his sentence. They’d just made progress, he didn’t need to start another fight.

“Just don’t get in the way of yours,” Lyria finished for him. “And for the record I didn’t react the way I did yesterday because I was jealous. Maybe in the slightest, but I'm pretty sure this is a new development. It was more because I was angry and concerned. I think my maternal instincts took over.”

A wry smile worked its way onto his face. “That’s because you’re a good mum. And I’m sorry, Lyria. I went about this the wrong way and that wasn’t fair to you.”

Lyria waved him off. “Apology accepted. Let’s get our girl ready so you can salvage that budding relationship of yours.”

Ten minutes later Rowan was strapping Ivy into her car seat and driving across town to his place. He’d wanted to contact Aelin straightaway and let her know about the progress he’d made. But he needed to get Ivy settled and fed so he could get her down for her nap. So he put it off, looking after his daughter and making sure she was sound asleep before he even looked at his phone. He pulled up the message thread, Aelin’s text the last one in the list.

Rowan: I talked it out with Lyria. It’s all smoothed over, no more dramas. Now can we talk?

It took nearly twenty minutes of looking at his phone for a reply to come through.

Aelin❤️‍🔥: That’s great, Rowan. Really. I just think I need another minute with my own thoughts.

He hadn’t been expecting that.

Rowan: Let me know when you’re ready.

It wasn’t until Ivy had woken up and he was getting dinner ready that his phone chimed again. It was just a single word, one single word that held an unexpected amount of bleakness and not a lot of promise.

Aelin❤️‍🔥: Okay

And that was the last that he’s heard from her for nearly an entire week.

~~~~~

Aelin had left Rowan’s house on a Saturday morning, and somehow Saturday morning had come and gone again. What a mess that whole escapade had been. When she’d told Rowan to not contact her it had been a rash decision, she’d been hurt and angry. But it was what she had to do, her feelings weren’t the priority. Ivy was.

Whenever Aelin found herself reaching for her phone she just remembered the sadness and fear on Ivy’s face as her parents argued, and the fact they had been arguing over the stranger in the home. She hadn’t expected causing Ivy distress would affect her so much, but making the baby cry had made Aelin’s heart ache and she never, ever wanted to do that again. So even though Rowan had insisted that he had worked everything out between him and Lyria, Aelin was thinking that maybe it was better if she just stayed away completely.

It was hard not to contact him though. Messaging him had become second nature. There were so many times when she saw something that she knew would make him laugh and wanted to send or just wanted to update him about her day like she always did. Every time Aelin had stopped herself, making herself miserable in the process. Rowan hadn’t quit though, and she couldn’t bring herself not to look at his messages. It was torture, but it was sustaining her at the same time.

The door opened and Aelin didn’t bother to look up from where she was moping on the couch. Very few people had the key to her little one bedroom apartment so she wasn’t alarmed. Instead she tried to guess who was intruding on her solitude. From the lighter footfalls she assumed the person was female, ruling out her meddlesome cousin or father. Aedion had noticed the change in her demeanour instantly, and his pestering messages were ones she was happy to ignore. So the identity of the intruder was down to her mother, or one of the two friends Aelin had entrusted a key to.

“Here I was thinking you’d be regaling me with your sex-capades, and instead I find you wasting away on the couch.”

Aelin turned her head so she could look at Lysandra who was standing beside said couch, with her hands on her hips.

“You have no idea how much I wish I could,” Aelin sighed. “It would have been amazing, I just know it.”

“How disappointing for you,” Lysandra kept teasing.

Aelin swallowed, trying to banish the ache building in the back of her throat. “Yeah. It really is.”

She sounded miserable, there was no way her friend would have missed that. Indeed, her face softened with concern.

“Then maybe explain to me what happened,” Lysandra said, all hints of teasing gone.

“I haven’t had the gall to tell anyone,” Aelin admitted.

There was some rustling that caught Aelin’s attention. “I did buy you a hot chocolate and some comfort pastries if that helps.”

Aelin sat up and took the takeaway cup and paper bag her friend held. She hadn’t exactly been starving herself this week, but she hadn’t had a great appetite either. The scent of chocolate prompted her hunger and she sipped and ate while Lysandra made herself comfortable at the other end of the couch.

“I went back to his place, but things didn’t go very far. Rowan said there were some things he needed to talk to his ex about. I was too tired to drive home by the end of the night after watching some movies, so I stayed. Then in the morning I heard Ivy babbling away so I got her up and went down stairs and walked right into the argument Rowan and his ex were having about me,” Aelin recounted.

Lysandra looked startled. “Good gods.”

“Yeah, it was awful,” Aelin went on. “Accusations were thrown around and I didn’t know what to do. And then Ivy got upset.” Her voice got tight and she remembered the distress on the little girl’s face. “So I just handed her over to Rowan and left. I didn’t know what else to do. He chased after me, and I told him to sort it out first.”

“And did he?” Lysandra asked.

Aelin nodded. “He said he did.”

“There’s a but there, I can feel it.” When Aelin didn’t say anything, Lysandra went on, “Did you talk to him?”

With a quiet voice Aelin said, “No, not really.”

“Whyever not?” Lysandra sounded genuinely surprised.

“Because I did some thinking and I think they’re better off without me,” Aelin admitted for the first time aloud.

“Aelin, I—“

“No, listen. I made her cry.” Aelin had been having this argument with herself the whole week so her words were well rehearsed. “Just by being there and causing that argument between her two parents I made Ivy cry. And I never should have gone home with Rowan. Once he had explained the situation I should have walked away because I knew it was wrong. We were breaking the rules. And his ex… If you had of seen her, heard the way she spoke, it’s obvious she’s still holding out hopes for him. She wouldn’t get that upset if she still wasn’t waiting for him, and without me intruding they could be a family.”

“There must be a reason they aren’t together though,” her friend prompted.

Tears were gathering in Aelin’s eyes. “Why should I be the one to stop them from trying again? They’re obviously better off without me.”

Lysandra put a comforting hand on Aelin’s knee. “I don’t think that’s the right way to think about it.”

“I miss him,” Aelin nearly whimpered. “Rowan has still been texting me. And every time it hurts. Sometimes it's just pictures or videos that say ‘this reminded me of you’. Then other times he’s begging me to talk to him.”

“That doesn’t sound like a man that’s wanting to get back with his ex,” Lysandra said far too rationally.

But that wasn’t the only problem. “What if I’m not cut out for the whole step-mum thing?”

“That’s awfully fast thinking.”

“But that’s how I have to think,” Aelin insisted. “Even if we go nowhere, Ivy always has to be considered, from the very beginning. And my track record is already terrible”

Lysandra sighed and took a moment before answering. “You want to try and this time what happened wasn’t your fault, you were just caught up in what was going on between Rowan and his ex. And to me it sounds like, besides the whole sleeping over thing, you were trying your best for what you wanted. And that’s not a bad thing. Then when you saw the volatile situation and you also saw the easiest way to fix it while also doing the best for Ivy. You made a sacrifice of yourself, and I don’t think it needs to be fatal. I just don’t want to see you throw this away without trying.

Aelin sniffed, using a napkin from the bag to wipe her nose. “So, I should talk to Rowan?”

“Yeah, and talk about all your concerns with him. If he was willing to take a risk on you, you must be important to him,” Lysandra said.

“You’re right.”

Aelin picked up her phone and headed to her bedroom, on a singularly focused mission. Letting out a heavy breath she tapped through to their texts. Rowan had sent one an hour or so before asking if she was ready to talk to him that had yet again gone unanswered. She ignored that, instead she wandered to where there was a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants folded neatly on her dresser. She snapped a photo, attaching it to a text.

Aelin❤️‍🔥: I think these belong to you.

~~~~~

Rowan tried not to show that he was nervous as he waited for Aelin to arrive. She hadn’t responded to any of his texts, and the one she had sent hadn’t been relevant to any conversation that he’d been trying to start. But that didn’t matter, what mattered was that she had finally contacted him and she wanted to see him. He just had to try and keep it together until she arrived. Ivy was down for her afternoon nap, Rowan had nothing to distract himself with.

When a knock sounded on the door, he ran to answer it—no hesitation as he twisted the knob and pulled it open. Aelin was standing on his front door mat, looking a little worse for wear and holding two perfectly folded items.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” Rowan all but breathed.

She smiled at him, but it was a little hesitant.

“I have your clothes.” “Come in.”

They’d both spoken at the same time, helping with the awkwardness of the situation. Rowan just moved back from the door and let Aelin walk past him.

“I have your shoes, too,” Rowan said as he followed Aelin to the living room.

“I’ve been missing those.” A touch of her playfulness returning.

“I’ve been missing you,” the words were out of his mouth before he could help it.

Aelin turned, swallowing hard. “We should talk.”

She put the clothes on the arm of the couch and took a seat. Rowan followed, keeping a little bit of distance between them.

“Ivy?” Aelin asked.

“She’s sleeping,” Rowan told her. “Just went down so she’ll be out for a while.”

“Cool.”

He watched Aelin cringe over her word choice. Rowan turned his body so he could face Aelin a little better. “Lyria is okay with us, we talked it out. It was just the shock of seeing you here that made her so angry and explosive. And she had a right to be. I knowingly broke our rules that we put in place to protect Ivy. It was wrong of me, and I’ve apologised to Lyria.”

“Was that her only concern?” Aelin inquired. “Was that the only reason she reacted like that?”

“I…” Rowan wasn’t sure how much to say. But if he was going to take a new step in their relationship in the right direction, honesty was the best way. “She might have been harbouring some feelings… some hope.”

“I knew.” Aelin's gaze had gone distant and her face hard. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“What—Aelin, no!”

Rowan was dashing after her as she pushed herself off the couch and was making for another escape. She made it to the entryway of the living room when Rowan stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm.

“Please, talk to me. We can talk,” Rowan pleaded.

“I… you’re a dad, Rowan,” Aelin said.

“I’m aware of that,” he replied, terrified that this was going down the ‘it’s me, not you’ path.

“Rowan. What if I’m not good enough for her? She has her mother and from the sounds of it you could have another go at that, and wouldn’t that be best for Ivy? Am I just getting in the way?” Aelin said the words near frantically, matching the speed of Rowan’s heartbeat. “You have to do what’s best for Ivy, I know that. So I can just walk and—”

“Aelin, stop,” Rowan said, cupping her face with his hand. He tilted her head up and saw the unshed tears in her eyes. “I’m never getting back with Lyria, I’m not in love with her. I’m…”

It was far too early to admit to that.

Aelin didn’t push for an answer, she just shook her head. “But what if Ivy doesn’t like me?”

Rowan chuckled softly. “That’s a lie, she was all over you the other night. And she doesn’t particularly like people.”

“Something she inherited from you then?” Aelin quipped and made Rowan laugh again.

“Smartass.”

That at last made Aelin smile.

“I want you, Aelin. I’m sorry that I had to start what’s between us with lies and half truths, and that epic disaster. But please, don’t give up on us just yet,” Rowan said.

Aelin closed her eyes and her body shuddered with her unsteady breath. Rowan watched, waited—and when those brilliant eyes opened that turmoil that had been brewing inside him all week finally quieted. Hope filled him, because the smile that Aelin gave him held promises of more.

“Why aren’t you kissing me yet?”

~~~~~

Aelin had expected a little more banter when she had asked for her kiss, but the way that Rowan swooped down on her without hesitation wasn’t unwelcome either. She gasped as his lips pressed on her’s and all that pent up tension melted fire into her blood. He wasn’t holding back, and moments later Aelin found herself being deliciously crowded against the wall.

“Rowan,” Aelin whispered between kisses.

“Mmm?” he hummed against the skin of her neck.

“Are we done talking?” Aelin asked.

Rowan pulled back, lips swollen and eyes dark. “I think so.”

“So that means we can take the next step?” Aelin's eyes went into the direction of the stairs.

“We can talk some more if you want,” Rowan offered with a particularly chaste kiss, and yet the way that his hands were moving up her waist were anything but innocent.

“You know what? Talking is overrated,” Aelin concluded.

Rowan gave her a boyish grin. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Taking her by the hand, he led her up the stairs. When Aelin giggled at their combined eagerness, Rowan hushed her with a kiss.

“Ivy’s sleeping,” he reminded.

Aelin nodded, kissing Rowan again before he led the way to his bedroom. Once that door was closed he was on her again, kissing, touching, feeling, making Aelin moan into his mouth. It was bliss, being with Rowan felt like everything she ever wanted. She was more than ready to discover what else it might entail.

“Take this off,” Aelin said, tugging at the hem of Rowan’s shirt. They broke apart so he could follow her request. What she hadn’t expected was to be rendered speechless. “Holy gods, Rowan. That’s one hell of a dad bod.”

In between his job, being a single dad and wooing the woman in front of him, Rowan still managed to find time to work out it seemed. Aelin’s fingers ran over taut muscle and flushed skin, loving the way he seemed to shudder under her touch. She remembered then what he had said to her last Friday night and she grinned.

“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?” Rowan said, his hand under Aelin’s chin so that she was looking at him.

Aelin put her hands on his chest, urging him backwards. Rowan let her guide him towards the bed, even dropping onto the mattress when she gave him a sharp push. His hands went to her waist, untucking the shirt tucked into her jeans. A man on a mission, he didn’t stop until he was pulling it over her head. Aelin would be lying if she said she didn’t expect for her evening to end up here. Yes, she had thought that maybe she’d just run when she remained unconvinced of their relationshiop, but there was some part of her that hoped they would work things out. And with the way that Rowan was looking at her she would be forever grateful that she had listened.

“Did you know,” Rowan said as a hand splayed over her stomach and then moved up her body, “that green is my favourite colour?”

“Oh, I knew,” Aelin’s voice lost its confidence when that hand rested between her breasts.

She’d bought this set back when they’d been flirtatiously texting. Rowan had mentioned that green was his favourite colour and had also commented how good she looked in a little green dress she had sent him a picture of. So naturally when Aelin had seen this deep, green, jewelled tone lingerie set she had to try it on. Then it had looked sinfully good on her and she pictured how Rowan just might lose his mind over it… Aelin had no choice but to buy it. And her imagination wasn’t too far from the truth. His fingers traced the designers of the lace, paying particular attention to the loops and swirls over her nipples, the entire time his eyes fixed on her. The sweatpants Rowan wore did nothing to hide how much he liked what he saw.

“You said it had been a while,” Aelin taunted. “Do you remember how this works?”

Rowan watched as she undid the button of her jeans and worked them over her hips, then his eyes darted up to her’s. “I can assure you that I do.”

“Do you need a quick refresher course?” Aelin wasn’t letting up, cocking her head to the side like she was thinking it over. “A little pep talk before we go any further.”

“Aelin,” Rowan chided, pulling her closer by the hips.

The smile on her face turned coy, slender fingers pressing into his shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

She had no intention of being gentle, and Rowan must have read the lie because he snorted. Then Aelin had one knee on the bed, the shift of her weight guiding Rowan to lean back, all the way until he was flat on the bed. She swore she saw his brain short circuit.

Aelin was hovering over him now, hands either side of his head. She lent down, brushing a whisper of a kiss over his lips. “I’ll look after you.”

“You’re a menace,” he all but growled in response.

“That might be true, but you’ll enjoy every,” Aelin kissed him, “single,” her hand travelled down and cupped him through the sweatpants he wore, “second of it.”

That was when they both snapped, weary of the teasing and playing. They share a desperate kiss as Aelin lowered her weight onto Rowan. His hands quickly became occupied, one urging her closer with a hand on her back and the other grabbed her ass. She could feel him hard and ready for her.

“Take your pants off,” Aelin demanded.

There was no verbal response, Rowan was a man of action after all. While he tended to the removal of his pants Aelin kissed and nipped over the skin of his neck. When the jostling movement ceased, she assumed the task was done. What she hadn’t expected was for Rowan’s clever fingers to play with the lace of her underwear, then pull it to the side and dipped between her folds. Aelin moaned when his thumb danced over her clit.

“Gods, Aelin,” Rowan breathed. “I need you.”

Aelin cried out when he applied the perfect amount of pressure. It might have been a while, but Rowan wasn’t entirely out of practice.

“Move your hand,” Aelin said, although she might have regretted the words as she lowered herself down so that their bodies were flush.

She could feel the head of him at her entrance, feel the eagerness from Rowan to slip inside her. He’d have to do the work from this angle, but Aelin didn’t think he’d mind. Another roll of her hips, another slide of her heat along the length of him and Aelin knew the patience of the man beneath her was running out. Rowan groaned, neck arching slightly. Aelin licked from the hollow of his throat to his Adam’s apple, earning her a buck of his hips.

“Aelin.” His voice was strained and breathless.

To answer the desperate utterance of her name Aelin rested herself up on her elbows so that the peaks of her breasts dragged over his skin, the lace of her bra scratching deliciously. Her hair fell to one side as she peered down at the man she was taking so much delight in torturing.

“Tell me, Rowan,” Aelin sat up, and rolled her hips to sweeten the deal. “Tell me what you want to see me do.”

Rowan's chest was heaving as he looked up at her, enough that she was willing to take pity on him. Aelin’s hands went behind her back.

“This? Do you want this off?” Aelin said about her bra. Rowan nodded, but that wasn’t enough. “Use your words.”

“I want—”

A shrill cry cut through the moment and Rowan’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no,” Aelin said with a burst of laughter.

“I… yeah this happens,” Rowan explained stiltedly, like his brain was trying to rewire too quickly. “This is gonna happen.”

The crying continued and the very responsible father groaned.

“I’m so sorry.” He closed his eyes, a way to help the redistribution of blood flow.

“Rowan, it’s fine,” Aelin crawled off him, trying not to laugh. The situation wasn’t exactly humourous, but what else was she supposed to do?

Leaning over Rowan kissed her once. “I should be able to soothe her back to sleep, just… hold that thought.”

Rowan picked up his discarded sweatpants and left the room. Left on the bed Aelin could hear him go into Ivy’s room through the monitor. She listened to him talk and fuss over his daughter quietly. And he’d been right, a minute or so later he had soothed Ivy back to sleep and was on his way returning to the adult bedroom. Aelin might as well have a surprise waiting for him when he did.

~~~~~

Ivy had amazing timing. He was moments away from getting exactly what he wanted, so close he could still taste Aelin’s skin on his tongue. Then as quickly as his brain would allow he had to shift gears and force himself into dad mode. Ivy was still half asleep when he went in, the problem was that her pacifier had been pulled from her mouth by her own treacherous hand. It hadn’t taken much to lull her back to sleep, with the pacifier replaced Rowan hummed a lullaby softly and just like that she was back asleep. Thankfully.

He just hoped that the interruption hadn’t killed the mood.

Getting interrupted was a hazard of the job and this wouldn’t be the last time, Rowan was sure of that. More apologies and encouraging words were on the tip of his tongue when he pushed his bedroom door open. He expected to find Aelin on her phone or maybe tucked into the blankets. She had done neither of those things.

Aelin had taken his last request into consideration, the last thought of taking off her bra, and then some. Not only had she removed her bra but her underwear as well. Leaving her utterly naked on top of his covers. But that wasn’t what had him frozen in the doorway. Removing her clothing wasn’t the only thing she had taken into her own hands.

“You started the fun without me?” Rowan asked with his jaw tight, stalking towards the bed with the last of his resolve ready to snap.

Aelin gasped as the fingers between her legs found a sensitive spot. “Who do you suppose I’m thinking about?”

The hand attending to her breast squeezed and Aelin arched off the bed. Memorised, Rowan could only watch the beautiful woman in front of him. She writhed again, whimpered his name, and he couldn’t take it anymore. Shedding his pants, Rowan was on the bed in half a second, bracing himself over Aelin’s body with her hands pinned beside her head. A flash of surprise went through her eyes, then she smiled.

“Impressive. You lasted longer than I expected,” Aelin said.

“Just you wait,” Rowan murmured on her skin, first her neck and then the top swell of her breasts. His lips were light, pebbling her skin in their wake. When his tongue flicked the taut bud of her nipple Aelin arched into him, a plea for more. He heartedly gave it, one of his hands tending to the neglected breast while he used his tongue and teeth one the other.

Aelin sighed, falling into the mattress. Rowan released her other hand, now cupping both her breasts and he kissed lower again. He reached her belly button when she stopped him with a whisper of his name. Looking up he waited for her next request. Her cheeks were flushed with pleasure, her hair a mess above her on the pillow, Rowan could get used to seeing her in his bed like this. Needing to see her ready to fall apart he worked her nipples, and was rewarded with that flush on her cheeks deepening.

“I need you,” she moaned, repeating his words from earlier. Rowan wondered if he had sounded so desperate.

“You have me.” Rowan rose up to kiss her lips.

Aelin didn’t use her words to show him what she wanted, instead she hooked a leg over his hip, urging them to flip. Rowan went with her plan and used his hands to guide her hips for a smoother transition. She sat just below his cock, making him twitch as her fingers gripped him lightly.

“Enough of the teasing,” Aelin told him. Promised him.

With his chest heaving, Rowan watched as Aelin rose up on her knees, sliding the length of him through her folds, making sure he was ready for her.

“Wait.” Somehow common sense had worked its way through his hazy brain. “Birth control.”

“I’m on the pill,” Aelin replied.

Rowan groaned. “Gods, yes.”

Aelin’s smile turned devilish, his cock throbbing in her hand at the thought of being inside her. Mercifully she wasn’t going to make him wait any longer, true to her word about the lack of teasing, and slowly she sunk down onto him.

“Fuuuckk,” Rowan’s voice was strained at the feeling of utter perfection enveloping him.

Aelin’s own voice was breathless when she said, “I thought there was no swearing in your house?”

The quip was so sudden that it made Rowan laugh, jostling them both enough that the humour was drowned out by paired moans. Staying inside her, Rowan dragged himself so he was sitting up with Aelin pressed flush to his chest.

He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, before resting a hand on her cheek. “I think we can make an exception for in here.”

Then he kissed her, thrusting up at the same time. After that they fell into a desperate rhythm, chasing that high. The room was filled with the sounds of their pleasure, gasps and moans and whispered words. In those moments a lot more curses followed. Aelin broke first, gasping his name, over and over, while her body pulsed around him, bringing Rowan over the edge seconds after.

Aelin was nearly limp in his arms, and her eyes fluttered open and landed on his. “That was.. wow.”

Rowan nodded. “Yeah.”

They caught their breath, hands caressing gently. Neither of them wanted to move; they were so content in each other’s arms. Aelin kissed him sweetly, her arms wrapping around his neck to bring them just that much closer. The movement of her body made Rowan hiss—still over sensitive from their recent activities. That just made Aelin giggle and she rolled her hips again. Rowan had to hold her hips still with firm and unwavering hands.

“I thought you said no more teasing,” he said, smiling against her mouth. Because, gods this woman was going to drive him insane in every way.

“Sorry.” She certainly didn’t sound it.

“What do you say to a shower and then you stay for dinner?” Rowan offered.

Another kiss was his reward for the idea and Aelin said, “That would be perfect.”

~~~~~

To Aelin’s surprise, Rowan’s home had started to feel like her home within just a matter of hours. They’d taken a long and very hot shower together and Rowan had given her another set of clothes to wear. These ones she might be stealing on purpose. It was easy to fall into place in Rowan’s life—the way they fit together happened so effortlessly. And that wasn’t just referring to what happened in the bedroom. That had been great, and Aelin was very eager for it to happen again, but this just worked. She didn’t know what she had been so worried about.

Friends. They were friends. That’s why this felt so easy.

They already knew each other so well everything just seemed to fall into place. Together they were prepping dinner when Ivy woke up, her protests coming from the monitor Rowan had brought down from the bedroom. He left the knife on the chopping board, ready to go get his daughter up. Aelin kept peeling the carrots and Rowan dropped a kiss on her cheek as he walked past.

“I’ll be right back.”

Aelin couldn’t help smiling after him, watching him all the way until the point that he disappeared. They’d been talking about Ivy non-stop. Aelin had so many questions, she was an only child and hadn’t had much experience with babies. But Aelin was ready to learn and jump right into the deep end. Rowan knew what he was doing and he’s promised to teach her everything.

Dropping the carrot Aelin looked around for her next task for dinner when she heard Rowan’s voice come through the baby monitor.

“Hey there, my little love. Did you have a good nap?”

There was some cooing in response.

“Yeah, you look so happy, my girl. Let’s get you changed.”

Aelin smiled at the sweet way Rowan spoke to his daughter, it made her heart do funny things.

“We have a guest for dinner, and lucky us we might be seeing her a lot. You met her the other day. From what I can tell you liked her. Da likes her, a whole lot. This won’t be easy for Aelin because us two… we aren’t exactly an ideal situation. But she’s going to take a chance on us, that means best behaviour so we don’t scare her off, alright? Aelin is something special, and like I said, we’re very lucky.”

The conversation ended there and Aelin was grinning. She’d already had her scare, so Rowan didn’t have too much to worry about now. But he was concerned, and Aelin couldn’t wait to kiss that concern away later. She was ready to show him she was here to stay.

Rowan appeared in the kitchen, Ivy on his arm. “There she is,” he stage whispered in Ivy’s ear.

“Hi there, Ivy,” Aelin said. “Want to come to me so your dad can finish up on dinner, because I’ll let you in on a secret. I can’t cook all that well.”

Laughing softly, Rowan walked over and passed Ivy into Aelin’s waiting arms. The baby looked up at her with big eyes, not scared, just curious about who was holding her. Aelin smiled, holding her breath while Ivy decided what to do next.

She smiled back, hands reaching up to Aelin’s face.

“Hey, there we go,” Aelin said to herself more than anyone else.

She glanced over to Rowan who was looking at them both, absolutely besotted.

Aelin couldn’t help herself, it was too easy with him looking at her like that. “Don’t want to scare me off, huh?”

Rowan ducked his head, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. It failed. “You heard that?”

“Every word,” Aelin said, taking Ivy’s hand. “And you have nothing to worry about.”

“Well, that’s good,” Rowan concluded.

Aelin’s cheeks hurt from how hard she was smiling. “Isn’t it just?”

Rowan went back to cooking dinner and Ivy politely demanded attention by starting a completely unintelligible conversation. Once again, it felt so easy to assimilate into this little family. Aelin chatted back, earning laughs from both father and daughter with her ridiculous answers. Both sounds she could get very used to hearing.

These two were well worth taking a chance on.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading! and Happy New Year!

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash // @literary-licorice // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine // @highqueenofelfhame // @3am-reading // @soup-that-is-too-hawt // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca // @sleep-and-books // @alifletcher2012 // @westofmoon // @sleeping-and-books // @ttakeitbacknoww // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen // @velarian-trash // @queenofxhearts // @heroesofterrasen // @highladyofstoriesandmusic // @empire-of-wildfire // @camerooonchiu // @crackedship // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books // @yourwhisperingshadows // @thesirenwashere // @tswaney17 // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper // @cat5313 // @judelovescardan // @flowerspringsea // @chaoticskyy // @the-regal-warrior // @fanfictrash3000 // @blueeyes425 // @starseternalnighttriumphant // @bamchickawowow // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda // @flora-and-fae // @thereaderandfangirl // @illyrian-bookworm // @chemicha // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd // @that-odd-puzzle-piece // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life // @the-third-me // @1islessthan3books // @bestmelle // @cursebreaker29 // @b00kworm // @superspiritfestival // @aesthetics-11 // @maastrash // @mynewdreamwasyou // @the-last-apprentice // @charincharge // @firestarsandseneschals // @scarznstars // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships // @df3ndyr // @trinitybailey2003 // @gwynethhberdara // @booknerdproblems // @larisssss // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7 // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10 // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @paytin77 // @jesstargaryenqueen // @anntheintrovert // @starbornvalkyrie // @loudphantomdragon // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth // @fangirlprincess09 // @maddymelv // @sierrareads // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard // @rowaelinismyotp // @pullnpeeltwizzlers // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction // @gracie-rosee // @elriel4life // @rowaelinrambling // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis // @swankii-art-teacher // @grandma-noob-lord // @vanzetanze // @highlady-brittney // @story-scribbler // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren // @surielandiareendgame // @silentquartz // @live-the-fangirl-life // @whimsicallyreading // @goddess-aelin // @littleboxofthunder // @empress-ofbloodshed // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae // @charlizeed // @feysand-loml // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen // @alyx801 // @amandaswallowtail // @louiseleblancdiggory // @abookishfreak // @danibutterr // @thegreyj // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream // @magnifi2que1807

#and like #i've had an idea for an epilogue too #just if you were interested

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kotoal1011 · 11 months ago

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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

#TIME TO VOTE MY WIFE INNO #I LOVE HER SO MUCH <3<3<3 #I wanna comfort her so badly #she's having a crisis and it shows

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bloody-arrows · 7 months ago

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Greenland fucked me up bro

Movie: Greenland [2020]

Spoilers under the cut plus swearing cw

OHHHH MY FUCKING GOD

Character notes: "tell Santa I'm still upset at him for the coal." whoever wrote Ali's father in this movie deserves a raise Jesus Christ. I love the way how everyone is generally characterized and how You can tell everyone's morals/true colors show during a life ending/world ending event. And even just before The asteroid is going to hit, you can still see John trying to save the pilot

Movie notes: holy shit they did not hold back. They truly showed us every guy wrenching detail and didn't spare us the experience of society before the world ends. There is some *very* distressing scenes though.

Other: I like the whole "Life flashes before your eyes." Thing the movie has going on. First with showing us the family photos before John and Ali's marriage got rough, then as the movie goes on, actually flashing back to earlier times when Nathan was a kid, They especially do this in the plane when they're arriving to Greenland, and at the end of the movie.

Another thing is when they're actually on the plane and are arriving to Greenland. Compared to the state that everything else is in with everything on fire and chaos, Greenland looks relatively untouched. Cloudy skies, but they don't have a reddish hue to them from fires or smoke, and everything generally looks peaceful. Yada yada yada, insert something about Greenland being untouched representing the sanctuary they've been searching for the entire movie, yada yada. (Well at least until the plane crashes.)

okay cool if your reading this your at the end, congrats. If your a die-hard fan of apocalypse movies I think you would like this, Even though it's more focused on the emotional family aspect. So maybe if you like dramas, I would maybe recommend this?? But it has some very distressing scenes.

I have one general problem with this movie though. In the end, we find out that it's been 9 months since The asteroid impacted. And it stated earlier in the movie that Nathan is diabetic, and the nurse at the Fema camp only gave them a weeks worth of insulin and stuff. That means one of two things: 1. The bunkers do have insulin, and in a perfect scenario they could've just boarded the planes and went to the shelter. Or two, Nathan with somehow magically cured and let's be honest that's probably not the case.

I know there's some probably logical reason that Nathan got flagged even though they had The insulin at the shelters, like "oh we need health people to rebuild the world." Or "we need to save on supplies because we don't know anything about the situation" But it's not explained in the movie. It's just like "oh it's nine months later."

#sherrys' nest #sherrys ramblings #movie review #????#man idk i just like talking about apocalypse movies #10/10 would recommend #not for the faint of heart tho #movie yapping #greenland 2020

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greeneyedpixie99 · 2 years ago

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Stars *Leonard "Bones" McCoy* Chapter Four

Summary: After living in her brother's shadow since the day they were born, Eleanor "Nell" Kirk decides to take her life into her own hands. Joining Starfleet, she finds not only a place to belong but potentially, someone she wouldn't mind spending her life with.

Pairing: Eleanor "Nell" Kirk x Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Warning: Mention of injuries, mention of blood, Character Death

CHAPTER FOUR

After a briefing from the CMO in regards to the distress signal and what was expected of them and where each of us were assigned, I was quickly directed to Commander Spock who didn’t seem at all surprised by my assignment being aboard the newest flagship. The USS Enterprise was likely the ship that had been in construction when Jim and I joined (Jim out of a ‘dare’ and myself out of the desire to follow a childhood dream). The shuttle that led us from the Starfleet campus to the ship was long, bumpy and nauseating.

“Cadet Kirk.” I turned to Spock after we disembarked the shuttle. “You are to report to medical and begin the pre-departure medical sweep with Doctor Puree. As soon as you’ve finished, please report to Admiral Pike on the bridge.” Keeping my face void of emotion I nodded quickly.

Finding the Medical Bay on deck three wasn’t hard. Puree was busy assigning Nurses to various things which gave me enough time to select the standard blue uniform and change. I was half way through with the pre take off checklist when the almost too recognizable sound of my brother whining and Len’s prickly beside manor tickled against my ears. Whipping around I was preparing myself to snap at the two, given I knew that Jim was on academic probation, only to find Len supporting a good portion of my brother’s weight. Jim looked all sorts of sweaty and unwell.

"Oh my god! What happened?" Leonard around me to dump Jim onto one of the cots, pressing my back by my shoulder. A stern look was written across his face but seemed to not reach his eyes. His eyes seemed a touch too soft, like he was worried I was going to flip on him.

"Oh this wasn't worth it I wish, i didn't know you." I shot Leonard a look but grabbed a hypo spray to pass to him anyway, hoping he knew what he was doing. Especially considering it was now clear to me whatever was going on with Jim was thanks to Len. Likely a loophole because my brother was probably looking all pathetic after literally being grounded.

"Here's a short lasting sedative."

"I'm itching in my mouth, this is horrible."

"Those symptoms won't last long, don't be an infant." With a quick stab of the hypo Jim fell flat onto the medical bed. Turning to Leonard, hands rested on my hips sternly, I waited for an answer. Several moments passed while I didn’t get one.

"I swear to god if I have to act like your mothers right now I will hurt you. What the hell is going on." Leonard moved around me to change, exposing the muscles of his back to me before I looked away blushing like a schoolgirl. I was a grown woman, we were warping into an emergency and I was focused on him being shirtless in front of me. Priorities Nell Kirk.

"Jim is on academic probation, you obviously know that bit, but it means he can't be here unless he's a patient of mine. So I gave him a case of mudflew to get him on board. Don't tell Nell."

"Bones!"

"Eleanor!" Leonard snapped getting right into my face, that was the first time I had ever called him. I was always the first to tell my brother off for the nickname. The moment of annoyance between the two of us was a short lived moment, the longer I stared into his warm hazel eyes, the more I found I couldn’t remember what we had been arguing about. Leonard placed a hand on the apples of my check, moving closer. Breath caught in my throat and I found myself leaning forward. Len seemed to follow because our lips were about to touch, hands on his chest while one of his on my face and the other wrapped around her waist, when Jim shot upright gasping, sending the two us as far apart as humanly possible without looking suspicious.

"Jim, I told you to stay d- good god!"

"What the hell is that?" I squeaked, rushing to my brother's side. Trying to drive away the image of his eyes against mine, the feel of his hands on my face and waist. To ignore how right it felt and how close we had been to kissing.

"I don't know- a reaction to the vaccine- dammit!" I quickly ran to the back room looking for anything to help get her brother's hand back to normal size, grabbing just about anything I could find, returning to them only to watch Leonard tear off after Jim. Groaning, I dropped the hypo onto the bed and rubbed my face. Whatever was wrong with Jim, the moment I nearly had with Len, and now the crisis. If I made it out of this without a few of my first gray hairs, it would be a miracle.

"I swear to god." With a shake of my head I pulled myself up onto a medical bed. Pulling my PADD over to me from the moving table. It was quick work checking over the layout of med bay. Deck 6 was confusing but if I studied it long enough I knew I could get around no problem. Slipping off the medical bed, I grabbed my finished checklist and PADD. Doctor Puree was going over the protocol of the Medbay most likely. I knew at some point I had to head to the bridge to check in but I wasn’t too concerned about it right now.

"What would you like me to get started on?" Dr. Puri looked from me to the number of ill patients that had been ushered on board thanks to the Doctors covering their care being pulled form earthside.

"Cadet Lucas got bit by something. Can you check him out and let me know what the issue is so I can put it into his chart? After that, you’re free to head to the bridge, I think Admiral Pike wanted to speak with you." Nodding I and was half way over to Cadet Lucas, a boy in one of my starfleet protocol classes, when something hit the ship sending. I was transported back to eight years old. The way the shuttle had dropped from the sky. The feeling of free falling through space.

Except unlike then, the feeling didn’t stop. Instead a sharp pain tore through every inch of me. It was so painful, letting the black of rest was easy to let go into. I just prayed that I could wake up from it.

"Dr.... Rep..." Everything hurt, from her head to her back and down to her toes. Between the numbness in my left leg and the weakness in my arms, I was certain whatever had happened was leaving me incredibly damaged. I wanted to wake up but the comfort of the black void and the lack of pain was alluring, so strong I was almost willing to let myself fall back into it. Even now, with my hearing partially working, my eyelids were heavy almost as if they were trying to aid in my return back under oblivion.

"It's McCoy. Dr. Puri was on deck 6, he's dead… and I can't… I can’t find Eleanor Kirk."

"Then you have inherited his responsibilities as Chief Medical officer, your first order as CMO is to find Cadet Kirk."

"Aye, sir." there was rustling, not loud but not quiet either. It was a comforting background noise, but the longer it occurred and the less talking was issued the closer I was to returning to the dark warm nothingness. I wanted to get up to call out to Len, to tell him that I’m alright but tired and in some pain. That the rapid loss of feeling in my legs and arms wasn’t bad, but the doctor in me knew that wasn’t the case. The little girl in love with her best friend didn’t want him to find me in whatever condition I was in.

"Oh God. Nell, come on Nell, wake up.” There was a comforting warmth against my check, I knew the touch as it had only been twenty minutes ago that I’d felt it for the first time. Len had found me, but at what cost. “Darlin' I need you to wake up so I can figure out where and what is injured. Can you do that from me doll, can you wake up." His voice sounded choppy to me, like he was speaking through a tunnel and a radio with really bad reception all at once. I wanted to force the wires holding my jaw shut to open and tell him I was okay, but everything felt miles away. I couldn’t even move my fingers.

"Nurse Harper, I need you to get me a med kit. Now.”

"Of course Dr. McCoy. How much blood has she lost?" The faintest bit of pressure dug into my spine, likely looking for the cause of all the blood. I didn’t feel like I was bleeding through. I felt sleepy and warm and content because Len hadn’t moved the hand cupping my face. I could still feel the aches and pains sharp and strong, but I was in his presence and that was all that mattered. "Too much. Hurry. If we can't get her out from under there soon I'm not sure if she'll live." Everything suddenly was gone, like the radio had cut and the tunnel had gone silent. I was lost once again to the black nothingness, the only relief being the numbness and the pain was gone.

#star trek bones #star trek alternate original series #star trek aos #aos leonard mccoy #aos jim kirk #aos kirk #aos spock #star trek jim kirk #jim kirk #james t kirk #leonard “bones” mccoy #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #leonard mccoy x oc

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threestarsinline · 8 months ago

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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.

#April 2024 #Fic rec #Rhett abbott x reader #Rhett abbott fic #Rhett abbott one shot #Rhett abbott fluff #Rhett abbott angst #Rhett abbott #Rhett abbott soulmate au #Soulmate au #Hanahaki disease #Outer range

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