#then they both need to have a moment where they realize they fucked up and hurt someone who shouldn't have been hurt that way

[tpwk-formula1]

Hello! I'm a sucker for menu style requests, expect more of me lol

I would like a gluten-free pizza with red sauce with roasted peppers and pulled pork, plus a mango smoothie with no dessert. All served by Oscar Piastri

I've read a couple of your fics, and they're really good! Keep it up <3

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten-free enemies to lovers red sauce rough sex roasted peppers "Such a good whore" pulled pork "God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you" mango smoothie baby trapping dessert yes served by Oscar Piastri

Oscar x Fem! reader

TW mention of pregnancy, creampie, unprotected sex, fingering, orgasm description, MDNI 18+

WC 1200+

Y/N POV

"Oscar, get ready now. You need to be in the Fan Zone in less than 15 minutes and I'm not fucking sprinting there this week," I snap at Oscar after having found him asleep in his driver's room when he was supposed to be getting ready to go on stage.

"Go away, Y/N! I'll be there on time," Oscar groans back turning his back towrds me making me march over to the Aussie, where I pull him arm slightly.

"Let's fucking go. I'll be damned for you're the fucking reason I get fired," I snapped again while attempting to yank him out of the bed again.

"You do realize my pinky has more strength than your entire body?" Oscar says while looking up at me softly.

"Please, Osc, we need to go," I ask back cleanly getting desperate.

"Fine, but when I'm done I want you back in here with me," Oscar says with a small smirk playing on his lips. I just groan but agree knowing how it goes for Oscar and I.

"You know you love when I use that little body of yours," Oscar whispered in my ear as we walk towards the Fan Zone making my face grow hot but I just laugh lightly trying to play off the moment like Oscar had told a joke since did have eyes on us.

"Get on stage and behave, and then we'll see about me coming back to your room," I tell him softly while standing backstage to make sure I was close to everything in case Oscar or Lando needed something but far enough away not many people could see me.

When the boys finally wrapped up both of them head back off stage and we all quickly usher ourselves back to the garage where we could finally wrap up for the day and head back to the hotel to get ready for race day tomorrow.

"You're coming to my hotel instead. I wanna take my time," Oscar whispers in my ear making me groan and roll my eyes.

"Drop the fucking attitude," Oscar whispers in my ear before we both go separate ways.

When I get back to my hotel room I quickly change out of my McLaren uniform and into a pair of sweats and a tank top before walking out and down the hall towards Oscar's room.

I knock on the door softly when Oscar opens the door and quickly pulls me into his room and in for a kiss.

"Fuck, I've wanted to do that all day," Oscar groans while guiding me toward his bed.

When he gets me on the bed he instantly slips my sweats off leaving me in my tank top and thong.

"Holy fuck Oscar, I've been in your room less than 3 minutes, have some fucking decorum," I gasp when he leans down and takes a teasing lick at my thong-covered pussy.

"I've waited all day 'cause someone insisted work was more important than coming over this morning," Oscar says while sending a slap down on my inner thigh.

"And drop the fucking attitude," Oscar says before sending another slap down on my inner thigh.

"Osc, please," I whine lifting my hips and trying to get Oscar where I need him.

"So fucking needy! You just told me to have decorum," Oscar says with an eye roll but still proceeds to rip off my thong tearing it to shreds.

"OSCAR! That's the third fucking pair this week," I complain but am quickly shut up by Oscar's mouth on my pussy making me moan loudly.

"Just shut up," Oscar groans burying his face back into my pussy. Oscar knew what he was doing, he knew all the spots to hit with his tongue that would leave me with shakey legs and begging to cum for him.

"Oh, Osc," I scream when I feel Oscar roughly shove 2 fingers deep into my pussy making sure to graze my G-spot.

"Fuck, I love when you get close," Oscar groans making me whimper from the vibrations on my clit.

"Cum for me," Oscar says while speeding up his actions sending me into a shaking orgasm.

"Fuck," I cry out starting to try and get away from Oscar's quick and relentless fingers.

"Stay fucking still," Oscar roughly tells me while using his free hand to send a harsh slap down on my inner thigh.

"Osc, too much," I beg trying to get away only resulting in Oscar roughly pulling his fingers out and shoving them into my mouth.

"Fucking finally some silence," Oscar tells me while sending another slap down on my thigh. Oscar makes quick work of taking off his clothes and roughly burying himself deep into my pussy and giving me a few seconds to adjust to his size.

"Fuck, how do you get tighter the more I fuck you," Oscar groans when he starts rocking his hips clearly getting lost in the pleasure.

"So good, faster please," I praise and beg needing more from Oscar.

"Such a good whore," Oscar groans making me whimper when I feel his fingers back on my clit only adding to the pleasure.

"I love feeling you clench around my cock, lets me know you're just a little slut ready to cum whenever I want," Oscar tells me only speeding up his actions and bringing me impossibly closer to the edge. Oscar knew I was gonna be cumming for him if he kept up his actions so he slowed down just a bit.

"NO! Osc, please," I shout out not happy with being denied the orgasm that was so close I could practically taste it.

"You'll cum, but when I'm ready," Oscar tells me making me whimper.

"Please," I begged while trying to sneak a hand between our bodies but Oscar quickly caught both of my hands and pinned them above my head where he continued to pound into me.

"Osc, I need it," I whine again for him.

"I'll do anything," I continue.

"God, I love when I fuck the attitude out of you. One second you're being a little bitch and the next you're like putty in my hands willing to do anything to cum for me," Oscar scoffs making me whine and continue to buck my hips trying to cum for him.

"Go on, cum for me," Oscar finally says while letting go of my hands and bringing one of his down to play with my clit while he brings me over the edge in a screaming orgasm.

I feel Oscar start cumming deep in my pussy making me whimper at the feeling of being filled up with his hot cum.

"God, I would love to watch you get pregnant with my child," Oscar says with a smirk while falling next to me in pulling me in for a chest.

"I would ring you for all your money," I joke with a smirk on my face only making Oscar roll his eyes.

"I would very much be involved in my child's life. But by all means you can have my bank account if you carry my babies," Oscar tells me making me shake my head. It was a conversation for another day.

[deansbite]

　　　𝒥𝒞　　｡　　fuzzy dreams

pairings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　afab!reader x dean winchester

warnings　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　18+ mdni !!　fingering　masturbation　semi-public　sexy hot dean (im sorry i had to)　praise　caught masturbating.. (kinda)　reader has an extremely vivid imagination

summary　𓎟𓎡 ₊ ˖　despite the familiarity of the situation, the thought of sleeping in the same bed as dean riles you up a little more than you wanted it to. it wasn't your fault, he looked too good. with it being your only option, you had to take matters into your own hands—and imagination.

READERS POV

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝

You and Dean were in a motel room bed together, sound asleep. Well, you were asleep. Notice how it was in the past form? Yeah, well reason for that was because you stirred awake due to some bullshit dream — which was explicit. Perfect fucking timing because you and your childhood-fucking-bestfriend-Dean-Winchester booked a motel room with a single queen bed. It was the only room left.

See, you had no problem sleeping in the same bed as him. That was no problem because you'd done it since you both were tiny. Because both your dads were connected to the hip — literally whenever they see eachother on a hunt they'd let you two stand there, gun in hand and stare at eachother till they finished. But that was irrelevant when you were currently in bed.. your body heating up more and more by the minute.

Dean was fast asleep, shuffling and moving so that the mattress dipped under his weight — including his legs being tangled up in the covers so he tugged it over to his side — because you two were full grown adults. Boundaries were set and he was on his side, you were on yours.

On any other occasion, you'd freak out and snatch the covers back. But you were relieved — some cool air ran over your incredibly hot skin. You felt like you were set on fire.. inside and out. You let out a sigh of relief — fluttering your eyes shut. You felt in need of some.. blissful relief. Because your core was dripping wet. Which made you pissed because you never had explicit dreams on any other hunt where you didn't share a bed.. but the moment you actually share a bed with Dean, it magically happens?

You fluttered your eyes open. The motel room you were in — was surprisingly quiet. Well, that is if you don't factor in the continous dripping water from the kitchen faucet.. since the kitchen wasn't all too far away. And you also started to hear every tiny obnoxious noise. Which.. being truthful, was better to think about than your current situation. God damnit you just thought of it again.

Could this get any worse? You exhaled, your eyes having long adjusted to the darkness of the room, which helped you be able to get around. And that was exactly what you were going to do. Dean unexpectedly shuffled around in bed. Which made you tense up — realizing you had to be as quiet as you could possibly be if you wanted to go to the bathroom.

In a swift movement, you sat up. The mattress dipping even further now that you were sat on your ass and all the weight wasn't spread out, but more so pressed down in one single place. And that made you panic — snapping your head to look behind you at Dean. Who was very much still asleep, facing you. In his black tee, black boxers and messy hair.. with covers spread out on and.. around him? Because some of the covers were shoved between his legs — some of it on the ground and some just.. covering parts of him.

You furrowed a brow — about to forget what you were even planning on doing and just giggling at him. But.. you noticed his plump lips pressed together, he was laying on his chest, which shouldn't have upset you as much as it did. But it did. Because his shirt was rolled up just a little — which would've been able to give you a glimpse of his abdomen — and abs. God what the fuck?! He's your bestfriend. You didn't hit puberty or someshit like a twelve year old boy.

Pull it together, and just finger fuck yourself so your absurd thoughts won't be able to drive a wedge between your friendship just because you were horny for one day. Okay, breathe in. You rose to your feet, the floorboards groaning under your weight. That noise — whilst for Dean nonexistent.. for you that was like a rocket taking off. Fear shot up your spine and you froze every muscle in your body. Unable to move any further. Your eyes focused on Dean, watching him closely.

You weren't even sure why you tried so incredibly hard to be quiet.. if you woke him up, you'd just be going to the bathroom. No biggie.. except you were going to literally finger yourself. And you probably don't look the best.. and like you just had to pee. Your skin felt like it was on fire, your hair was probably messy and your pajamas were probably disheveled. After finally feeling like you were good to go, you head for the bathroom.

You needed to get this done and over with, even if Dean woke up. You'll find some excuse to tell him if he hears you shuffle in the bathroom. But you still hoped he slept through everything. Fucking finally you reached the bathroom door. Everything else in the motel room wasn't important, except the bed and bathroom. You looked over your shoulder to see Dean fast asleep.

You were put at ease with that fact, your head turned forward and you focused back on what you were planning on doing. Your hand reached out and your fingers wrapped around the cool.. rusty and metal doorknob, which was a contrast to your warm hands. You twisted it and pushed the door open. The door creaked for a moment, but you were quick to grab it to halt the noise just in time.

Eventually, after literally dealing with this whole situation as if it were a parkour and dodging the most unnecessary things, such as Dean waking up or finding another solution, such as sleeping it off.. but you were stubborn. And, you finally got to shut the bathroom door, gently to make sure it wouldn't slam, just a simple click. Before you got to suck in a deep breath.

Your fingers travelled up to the lightswitch, your index finger flipped up and the lights flickered to life, lighting up the entire room. You glared at yourself in the mirror.. jesus, you seriously looked like you just got into a fight with a Chimera. Your lips were parted and you looked flustered as fuck. You just bent over slightly, turning on the tap, cupping your hands under the cold running water before your hands were filled to the brim with cold water.

You splashed the water on your face, before running your wet hand through your hair and shut your eyes, your left hand gripping on the edge of the sink to balance yourself, the water was still running as background noise, which wasn't on purpose, you simply forgot. Now your heavy breathing and pants won't be the only thing bouncing off the walls.

Your hand travelled down your body, some remaining water droplets dribbling down your skin. To help you get off without feeling like you were a total freak, you started imagining Dean. Imagining his raspy and crackly — his sleepy voice as he praised you. "Doin' so good f'me, sweetheart, just a bit longer. Gotta get you ready for me." Dean's emerald green eyes focused on yours. He was ontop of you, his hand along with his body travelling down your body. His right hand ran all the way down your abdomen, stopping right at the waistband of your pants.

His fingers teased you by fiddling with it. Your eyes were locked on his. He had that dumb cocky grin on his face. "Should I eat this pussy or fuck it w'my fingers?" He whispered, as if he was asking himself. But he was loud enough for you to hear. His words meshed in with one another due to him having just woken up. Your hands went down and grasped onto his messy, dirty blonde locks.. you let out a pathetic whine.

"I hear ya, baby. Just be patient." He reassured, lips pressed together and his right hand, which was initally teasing you, now hovering a little above your pants, before it slipped beneath the fabric. His emerald green eyes travelling down your body, which paused at your bundle of nerves. Despite two pieces of material covering it, he observed the outline of his fingers, a smirk displayed on his lips.

"Oh?" He exclaimed, an eyebrow raising and his smirk a tad bit more visible now. His fingers were now directly pressing against your entrance — with your underwear between his fingers and your core. You clenched around nothing. He felt how dripping wet you were, which caused him to chuckle. "So needy." He commented, eyes darting from your mound to your face. "Look so pretty." He praised, humming and getting back to work, his fingers going to the side of your panties, before tugging them to the side to have better access to your aching core.

"Gonna show you what you've been missin' out on." He whispered. His ring finger was finding your clit, before he pressed on it in the lightest way, moving his ring finger in tiny circles, causing you to moan his name. He chuckled, "Has nobody given you a good handjob, baby? Already so greedy f'more 'n I haven't even started." He prompted. You shook your head in response. He clicked his tongue. "Well, m'glad t'be able t'change that."

Without much of a warning, Dean plunged his index finger into your pussy. A gasp escaped your lips. Dean didn't react, just slowly pushing his index deeper and deeper, you let out a whimper. "Shh, calm down, sweetheart." He mumbled, his left hand, which was just resting on your lower thigh eventually came to use. His thumb caressed your skin. You lightly tugged on his messy locks, causing him to groan. "Come on, baby, ease up."

You were tense, your walls squeezing around his fingers, he sighed and his ring finger sped up the pace for a bit, adding into the mix of pleasure. Now he slowly retreated his index, just so his index was still in your pussy and then he immediately slammed it back in, grunting. "Gotta stretch you out if I wanna fuck this pretty little cunt." He explained, but you were a writhing mess.

He kept fucking you harsh and fast with his index, the squelching and whining coming from you was so explicit your cheeks heated up. "So wet, easier t'fuck ya." He mumbled, his left cheek eventually resting on the inner thigh of your right leg. Eyes still so damn focused on your mound. His plump lips parted. You wondered how they'd feel around your clit and how he'd be eating you out. You let out a much louder moan when Dean started up the scissoring motion, which you already had the pleasuring of your clit with his ring finger and the fingering.

You were close, Dean could tell by the way your breathing became irregular, you began fumbling with your words when you tried to tell Dean that you were about to fall over the edge. But he knew. Your walls were clenching and unclenching around his fingers and he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you faster. And stimulating your clit more. "What was that?" He asked, raising a brow.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you clenched around his fingers and saw literal stars. Your juices covering his hand —

"Hey, sweetheart." A hoarse and concerned voice called out from behind the door. "You okay in there?" It was Dean.. your fucking childhood bestfriend. The guy who you imagined finger-fucking you. Oh fucking christ. This wasn't normal if you saw him as nothing more than a friend. Friends don't exactly fuck themselves with their fingers whilst imagining their friend doing it.

"You kept moaning my name." He added, "Did y'slip 'n fall?" A moment passed with no answer. Jesus christ you were completely fucked.

Your face was so completely obvious that you didn't fall. You removed your hand from underneath your pants and quickly washed it off under the tap. He cleared his throat. "I swear m'comin' in.. if y'don't answer in the next few seconds." His voice was filled with worry. "No, no! I'm fine! I'm just.." What the fuck do you say now?

͝ ⏝𝅄︶ ͝ ⏝ ⊹ ⏝ ͝ ︶𝅄⏝ ͝

cliffhanger cause this is testing the waters 😞 + this was a bit proofread by @pearlzier so... mistakes / grammar errors may be found plus english isnt my first language gang..

tags: @luvr4miya @upsidedean @angelblqde @fallbhind @beausling @pearlzier @fourkilljoys

amab vers: coming soon (im tired and wanna watch gilmore girls ill do it soon)

[zepskies]

Lost on You - Part 10

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: And we’re back! In today’s episode, we have a very special guest. 😉

Also, just so you guys know, my podcast interview with the Idling in the Impala podcast is now live! For all the timestamps of key moments, fic recs, and SPN writer shoutouts, see this post (you'll find the link to the video there too).

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 6.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, angst, drug use, PTSD, violence, and another big reveal…

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

🎙️ Series Masterlist

Part 10: I Need a Hero

Revenge could wait for one more day.

It all can wait, Ben thought. Despite how vehement he was yesterday, today, he was reminded of how good it felt to sleep in a warm bed with a beautiful woman. 

He laid there behind you, on his side. He’d woken up to the sound of music somewhere downstairs, maybe in the dining room.

What time is it? It was hard to remember to keep track of that now, even with the digital clock on the nightstand. It was only midnight, but to his body, it felt like morning.

You were dead asleep. Occasionally you let out soft hums, and other semi-arousing sounds. His lips tugged upward.

Still moans in her sleep.

He drew down the comforter and sheets slowly from your back. He was greeted by smooth skin, except where some marks had been made permanent. His fingers traced carefully over a rough, scarred patch of skin above your hip, as if you had been tased there repeatedly.

His jaw clenched. He could still remember the sounds he used to hear—your screams through the walls of the compound. He remembered when you eventually stopped begging for it all to stop.

“You’re saying this is my fucking fault?!” he said. “Yes! It is your fault. Because you’re too much of a mean, callous, arrogant, entitled, selfish, fucking asshole to see that everybody hates you!” you spat. 

For so long after that day, he hated you. He told himself that he didn’t give a shit about whatever was happening to you, because you clearly didn’t give a shit about him.

But the long months wore on to longer years, alone in the dark. Too often, your words would rattle through his head, reach through his chest with ragged claws. No matter how much he fought it, all he had time to do when he was alone, was think.

He vacillated between stubborn, angry indignation, and rethinking every interaction he had with you, with Countess, the rest of the team, and beyond. Slowly, he allowed himself to retrace his steps. If only in his mind, he began to regret certain things…at least where it came to you.

Ignoring you was both harder and easier, since he couldn’t see you.

That all changed a few days ago.

Eisenstein returned to his cell, but this time he wasn’t alone. Two guards held you bound and gagged. You were just as shocked to see him as he was you.

It felt like he was suspended in time.

He saw the signs of aging in your face, but it didn’t matter. Even now, you were beautiful.

The spell of it broke when they threw you down onto the metal table usually reserved for him. He saw now that they had you in a straitjacket to keep your hands covered. The anger built inside him, almost incandescent in his veins.

“What the fuck is this?”

 The doctor held a glass syringe in his gloved hand. He drew closer to you with slow, measured steps.

A realization soon dawned on Ben, no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it. He saw your terror, the way you wordlessly pleaded with him, asking for help with your eyes.

Part of him still hated you, but he couldn’t take it. He wouldn’t allow this sick bastard to hurt you again. Not right the fuck in front of him.

You were still his.

His hand traveled down your bare shoulder, over the gentle slope of your side, and down the curve of your hip under the covers. You shifted and hummed, edging toward wakefulness. Ben settled in from behind, protectively embracing his body around yours in a perfect fit. He began kissing along your neck, slowly.

“Hmmm I’m sleeping,” you said, keeping your eyes closed. He smirked. His lips became more insistent, along with his hand spanning your thigh.

“Wake up, then,” he said. He teased the shell of your ear with his tongue, dragged your earlobe between his teeth. You shivered.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you retorted, smiling.

Ben huffed. “Yeah, keep being a fucking brat. That’ll get me to stop.”

His beard rasped against your skin as his lips found a path down the column of your throat. Acquiescing to open your eyes, you sighed, tilting your head back to give him more room. Meanwhile, his cock pressed insistently against your ass.

You smirked and shifted your hips, grinding back against him. “Maybe I like working you up.”

“Oh yeah?” He moved your thigh over his to spread your legs for him. There the warm, blunt tip of his cock pressed at your entrance, nudging you open with shallow thrusts. You moaned in response, reaching back to slip a hand in his hair.

You were a wanton little thing, he thought, even as he reached around to bury his fingers in your pussy. Already finding wetness between your folds, he gathered some of it and rolled your clit smoothly between his fingers. You gasped his name, your hips bearing down against him.

He took the opportunity to sheathe himself all the way inside you, until his hips were snug against your ass. You made a sound of pleasure that had his balls clenching on reflex. Your voice was a curse, even without your powers.

For once, he fucked into you slowly, with long, unhurried strokes that still managed to rock the bed. Ben was surprised the frame and springs hadn’t given up yet.

“You’re fucking mine, you hear me?” he said, close to your ear. He punctuated his words with deeper thrusts. “Say you understand.”

“Yes,” you agreed on a gasp.

“Yes, what?” He laid more tantalizing kisses along your neck and jawline. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours,” you said, in a coarse whisper. Ben claimed your lips in a kiss, before he kept moving inside you in languid strokes.

You were a moaning mess, your eyes squeezed shut. You grabbed at your breasts and kneaded them yourself, rolling and pinching your nipples. He strummed more insistently on your clit, until he felt your inner walls finally start to throb around him.

Your orgasm hit you in a slow, long wave as you pressed your face into your pillow. And you clenched so impossibly tight on his cock, it triggered his release as well. His arm curled around your middle and pressed you tight against him as he uttered a sharp grunt. He finished hot inside you, panting heavily into your neck afterward.

“Well, good morning,” you quipped, despite trying to catch your breath as well.

Ben’s hazy reverie broke into a chuckle. He dropped a lingering kiss onto your shoulder.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he corrected.

You shrugged. “Whatever.”

When he pulled out of you, you shivered a little. He rolled onto his back, and regardless of the mess in the sheets, you turned over to rest your elbow on his pillow, leaning over him.

“I should probably tell you something,” you said.

He eyed you in suspicion. “What now?” 

You smiled and laid a hand on his chest, dragging your nails through the fuzz there.

“My family’s from Brooklyn, not a small town in Indiana,” you confessed. "Made it up to make me seem more...down to earth. Doe-eyed and likeable."

Ben’s brows shot up. He took a moment to process that information, then he shook his head.

“Fucking figures.” His arm lowered to curl around your lower back, caging you against him.

“I grew up in a brownstone that we had to share with two other families,” you said.

“So you were broke.”

“Yep. When I was born, my family spent all their savings to contract with Vought, to give me Compound V,” you explained. “Their plan was something like, if I became a famous superhero one day, I’d bring us out of our shitty life.”

Ben sighed, shaking his head. “So they pimped you out to Vought.”

“Essentially,” you said. You paused. He could see it was difficult for you, but you talked more about your life—the expectations from your parents, the training, the grueling schedules and the robbing of your childhood. 

“When my mom died, I…I realized just how much they took from me,” you said, gazing up at him. “Isn’t that horrible?”

Again, Ben shook his head. His hand had been caressing up and down your back, but it stopped now. Part of him was still reluctant, but he told you about the biggest lie of his life. That he hadn’t grown up poor or struggling. That his father practically owned half of Pennsylvania, and Ben had been a spoiled rich kid. He’d also gotten kicked out of boarding school after starting a fight.

“My father said I wasn’t worthy of his name,” he said, with a wry turn of his lips. “So I went out, talked to some of his golf buddies in the War department, and got myself into the Vought program. I became Soldier Boy.”

You listened with rapt attention. Not interrupting him, just giving him the time he needed to find his words.

“When I came home after the war, my mother was just as proud as she’d ever been,” he recounted. But he didn’t smile. “My father took a good look at me, maybe for the first time in my life. And you know what he said?”

You gave him a questioning look, silently prodding.

“He said I took a short cut. ‘A real man wouldn’t have cheated,’” he said.

When he eventually met your gaze, you at least didn’t look pitying. Just understanding.

“I guess we both have daddy issues, huh?” you said.

Ben shook his head. Then he eyed you. “You don’t look that surprised by all this.”

You smiled, a little sheepish. You stroked your thumb across his chin.

“I can sense when a man is lying to me, remember?” you said pointedly. “I clocked you a long time ago, pal. Mostly any time you told some fake war story... You didn't fight in the war, did you?”

He frowned in offence, even though you both knew he couldn’t deny it.

"I was there," he said.

You gave him a knowing look. "Ben."

"I fucking would've, all right, but by the time I got there it was pretty much..." He waved a dismissive hand. His brows were crunched along with his worsening frown. You felt his embarrassment, and as a result, his agitation. You were glad to finally get the truth in his own words, but you didn't want to work him up in that way either.

You tried softening him with a kiss to his cheek. You rubbed a soothing hand over his arm.

“So what do you want to do when we get our lives back?” you asked, purposefully changing the subject. “After the whole payback thing.”

Ben sat up with you against the headboard. His upset slowly faded away with your ministrations, your gentle touch, and his expression fell into contemplation.

“I always thought I had time, but uh…I thought I’d eventually settle down. Have a couple of rugrats of my own. Raise a family,” he said. “Thought I could do it better than my old man.”

You tilted your head at him with a certain measure of surprise. Out of everything he might’ve said, that one didn’t occur to you. Although, with his upbringing, you supposed it made sense. You smiled.

“You might have a few of those out there somewhere,” you said.

He chuckled. “I've always thought so.”

He looked at you in a way he hadn’t before, a bit gentler, with something else you couldn’t name. Your face warmed as something fluttered in your lower belly.

“So tell me then. What do you want?” he asked.

Once you worked through that bit of nerves, you thought about his question. It took you longer than you thought it would to come up with an answer, but when you did, it was the most honest thing you could think of.

“I want to be happy.”

He paused, not expecting that answer. Then he nodded, with a short hum.

You sighed. “Okay, if you really want to go after Vought, I think I have an idea of where we should start.”

I can’t believe it. This thing still fits me pretty well, you thought. You twisted in the mirror to examine yourself in your old black and violet supe suit, though you didn't bother with the mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was already with your generous host, sat with widespread legs on the couch while he smoked a large blunt. His smoke coiled out lazily.

“You gotta believe me, I didn’t know what they were planning,” said Arthur Cohen. AKA: The Legend. He had been forced into a chair, though Ben hadn’t bothered tying him up. The man knew better than to make a false move. He was a decade older, and lucky for him, even wiser.

His penthouse apartment in New York looked more or less the same. Hit records and old successful movie posters adorned the walls, like a true has-been.

“Yeah, you said that fifty fucking times already,” Ben snarked. “What you haven’t said, is why.”

“To be honest, I never asked,” Arthur said. His expression soured. “Stillwell and Stan Edgar shivved me out of that decision, those uppity fucks. Then they got me fired on some technicality.”

“Allegations of embezzlement, or so I heard,” you said, reentering the room.

Arthur raised a finger. “Not true. That money was well earned backpay.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I know you’re lying, right?” You approached the men and crossed your arms. “What’s the lay of the land now?”

“Well, Stillwell’s the new me. Stan’s the new CEO. They disbanded Payback after you disappeared. The others are either working new gigs or are in early retirement. But I heard Vought’s working up to creating a new team.”

You nodded and shared a glance with Ben. He looked a little too chilled out right now. Apparently, Arthur had the good stuff.

“Before we jump into the frying pan with this, I want to go see my family,” you said. “Would you…want to go with me?”

Ben blew out more smoke, gesturing at Arthur. “I’ll keep this one company until he finds our old team. Make sure he doesn’t fuck off to Rio.”

You felt the sting of disappointment, but you sighed and agreed.

“Just…wait for me to get back before you go anywhere,” you said. You saw Ben prickle a little at being “told” what to do. You lowered down to his lips.

“Please?” you said, plying him with a kiss, and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “I’ll be back soon.”

He tightened his hand on yours. His gaze drew over you, briefly with more clarity through his high.

“Fine,” he said. “Be careful.”

You nodded with a smile, giving him one more kiss goodbye.

Your father was the longer drive north than your brother’s house in Queens, so you headed up to find the former first after borrowing a car from Arthur. According to him, your father had moved upstate to Albany after your “death.” 

Now, you understood why.

He lived in a two-story house on a whole acre of land, complete with three cars, a pool, and oh yeah, his new girlfriend. She looked good hanging off his arm in Atlantic City, as you saw from a picture on the wall—after you broke into the house, that is. To be fair, they’d left the sliding glass door open in the backyard.

Your dad was dressed like he just got home from the golf course, walking over from the kitchen to the living room. He dropped his glass of wine in shock when he saw you standing there, admiring the only framed picture of you, your mother, and Chris on one of the display shelves. Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.

“Hey, Dad,” you said. You turned to him, not bothering to hide your disdain.

He gaped for a few seconds as he tried and failed to make his mouth work. He pointed at you with a shaking hand, your name finally falling from his lips.

“It’s a beautiful place,” you said. You gestured widely at your surroundings. “It’s nice to see that you finally got what you wanted.”

He tried to go to you, to embrace you, but you held out a hand. Your lips trembled as you fought the onslaught of your emotions. If he touched you, you might not have been able to control your actions.

“Did you give any of the settlement money to Chris and his family? Or did my death just make you rich,” you asked.

Your father’s eyes closed. He released a heavy sigh before he was able to meet your gaze again.

“He wouldn’t take any of it,” he admitted.

Your tears stung in your eyes as you smiled a little. “Sounds like him.”

“Where have you been?” he asked. “Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Again, he tried to get closer to you, and again, you held him off.

“The only thing I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing,” you said. “Keep living your life like you no longer have a daughter.”

With that, you stalked out of the house and shot out the door, back to your car, no matter how much he called out after you. You got into the driver’s seat and beat the wheel once, twice, venting your frustrations. But you forced yourself to take in deep breaths to calm yourself. You wiped the tears from your eyes.

He wasn’t worth it.

You wondered if you should go see Chris though. Would it be safe for him and his family? Was Vought watching them as a contingency, if you ever escaped?

You weren’t sure. You rucked through your purse lying in the passenger seat for the weird “cell” phone Arthur had lent you. You wanted to check in with Ben first, before you went anywhere else.

You started to dial, but a gloved hand shot out and injected a needle into your neck. You startled at the sharpness and the feeling of a chemicals rushing through your body. Your eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

All you saw was a blurry, black mask.

Meanwhile, Ben was fucking plastered.

He had been ever since you left yesterday morning. In his unrest, he’d moved on to a handful of whatever opiates Arthur kept in his medicine cabinet.

Christ I’m fucking bored.

He glanced down at the phone in his lap. The one Arthur gave him, along with a list of numbers that had been taped to the fridge. The first number on the list was the cell phone you were carrying. Ben read the rest of them.

Pizza place. Chinese. Swedish massage—hmm, there’s an idea. Handy man. BEST escort service…

Ben rose a brow. An inebriated smile curved his lips.

“What makes it the best escort service?” he asked, and loudly. Enough that Arthur came over from where he’d been making calls in his office, trying to find the rest of his former teammates’ whereabouts.

Arthur raised a brow at him. “You sure that’s a good idea right now?”

Ben shot him a terse warning look. The other man raised his hands.

“Eh, I’m three times divorced. What do I know?” he said, but he sighed and gave Ben a long look. “It just seems to me that you and Sirena got a good thing goin’, that’s all.”

The thought of you managed to cut through the haze of drugs clouding Ben’s mind. He frowned.

“That’s how Missus #1 caught me, with one of my ex-assistants in the jacuzzi,” Arthur said, with a mild grimace on his face. “She got that house in the divorce. Well, that and the kids.”

Ben looked over at him blankly.

Heaving a sigh, Arthur went back to his office.

Ben glanced down at the list of numbers in his hand, and the cell phone in the other. What the fuck was taking you so long then?

He dialed the first number on the list—your number. It rang several times, but you never answered. He called you again, waited a few minutes, then called you a third time. You weren’t answering.

His frown worsened, along with a suspicious prickling up his spine. Fuck...

He'd felt it the moment he let go of your hand, but he'd been too out of his mind to actually listen to his instincts; the same ones that warned him not to let you out of his sight. And more importantly, not to let you go.

He got up from the couch and stormed into Arthur’s office, shoving the door open. Arthur jumped in his seat. 

“What? What’s the matter?”

“She’s not picking up the fucking phone,” Ben said. He paused. “Something’s wrong.”

Arthur didn’t ask him the predictable question: how do you know? He just took in the look on the supe’s face and knew it wouldn’t be wise arguing. He tried calling your father's home, but all the man would say was, "She left. She's gone."

Arthur hung up with the man, and for a long moment, he sat pensively while Ben angrily paced the small office, like a tiger confined in its enclosure.

“It’s possible that Vought knows you guys made it back,” Arthur said. At the dark look on Ben’s face, the other man rubbed his chin with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll try to track her down for ya. In the meantime, I’ve got Countess’s address. Maybe she'll even have an idea of where to look for Sirena.”

He slid a piece of paper toward Ben across his desk. He grabbed it, pointing a threatening finger at Arthur.

“Find her.”

You woke with a groan. You knew a drugging when you felt one, and this was it. Someone had given you a powerful sedative.

You were alone in a white padded cell, lying on a cot. It was all too familiar.

Except for the tall figure in black standing in the middle of the room, watching you. You gasped with a jolt, pressing your back against the wall after you sat up. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Irving?”

Black Noir stepped closer until he was sitting beside you on the cot. Tentatively, he raised a hand up to touch your cheek with gentle, gloved fingers.

Your shock gave way to anger. You slapped his hand away.

“What are you doing?!” you said sharply.

Noir backed off at once, as if you’d struck him a real blow. He got up, went over and grabbed a dry erase board that had been lying against the far wall, along with a marker off the floor. He wrote something down on it, then he showed you.

You shouldn’t have come back to NY.

You frowned, both at what he “said,” and in confusion. Why wouldn’t he just talk to you?

“What did you expect?” you asked incredulously. “For me and Ben just to disappear forever? To let you keep ruining our lives?”

Noir paused at that. He tilted his head with a long look at you. With your abilities, you were able to sense that he was disheartened, and even angry. He erased the board with his arm and wrote something else.

Do you love him?

You blinked at the question.

“Who?” you asked, even though you knew.

Soldier Boy

Emotion rose high in your throat, but you worked past it with a swallow, and a deep breath.

“That’s none of your business,” you said.

Noir just stared at you, his head tilting forward. The longer he stood there, watching you, waiting for an answer, the longer you prickled with unease.

He erased the board and wrote the same question again. He held it out for you to see, shaking it once in emphasis.

Do you love him?

You hesitated, but you didn’t want to lie anymore, even to yourself.

“Yes, I do,” you said. “I know what he’s done, believe me, but he isn’t a monster.”

Noir’s head twitched. You felt his anger intensify. He dropped the board onto the floor, startling you, but all he did next was slowly raise his hands to take off his helmet. He showed you what was left of his mottled, disfigured face—the burnt skin and the divot in his skull that had never fully healed.

Your mouth parted in shock as tears sprung in your eyes. You tried to avert them, but Noir stepped forward and grabbed your jaw, turning your face up to his and forcing you to look. Your lips trembled, but you met his gaze unflinchingly.

When he seemed to be satisfied, he released you and stepped back. He placed his helmet back on.

“I understand why you hate him,” you said at last. “But you made your choice when you let them take me too. You…you changed everything for me.”

You were satisfied to feel a lance of Noir’s guilt. You had scars too, and most of them weren’t physical.

“I’m not going to apologize for my choices now,” you said, with a firm glare. “So unless you’re going to kill me, you can fuck off, before I scramble what’s left of your head.”

Your eyes glowed with your power. You opened your mouth to begin your siren’s song, but Noir turned on his heel and exited the door, leaving you alone in the cell.

A fucking chimp sanctuary. Really? Ben thought as he broke into the boundary of the reserve. About a quarter mile into the tall grass, he found a large, if rundown country style house in the middle of the woods.

“Yes, Big Daddy. I’m almost ready for you. Just let me heat these up…”

Ben raised a brow, but he gritted his teeth and kicked through the front door. There she was, Crimson Countess in all her glory, holding a set of anal beads.

She gasped at the sight of him, but she ignored the “client” on speaker on her landline phone, and dropped the beads so she could aim a fiery blast at the intruder.

Ben jumped out of the way and tossed his shield. It hit her square in the chest and sent her flying back into the wall, destroying a bookshelf and the dining table. He walked over to it with slow, heavy steps.

She raised her head with a groan, but then, her eyes watered with disbelief…and fear, when she looked up at him.

“Ben?” she said. “My God…it’s really you, isn’t it? You... you look the same.”

“You don't,” he remarked. He lowered down to grab her by the collar of her suit and raise her out of the rubble.

“How much did the Russians pay you, Donna?” he asked calmly.

She struggled to escape, her nails scraping at his gloved hand. He tightened his hold.

“They didn’t,” she admitted. Tears leaked from her eyes under her mask.

“They didn’t pay you anything?” he said through clenched teeth. “Then why?”

You know why, came sneaking voice in his mind. He tried to pay it no heed, but Donna sneered at him.

“Because,” she spat. “I fucking hated you. We all did.”

Ben’s lips pulled at a humorless smirk. His chest prickled with heat. “I should’ve known you were a bunch of sniveling, backstabbing, fucking cowards.”

“Kill me then,” she taunted. “Is that gonna make you feel better? Going to make you feel less empty inside?”

Ben’s chest began to get that nuclear glow, but he managed to fight it down, back into embers.

“Not yet,” he said. He drew her in closer. She held onto his wrist, her feet scrambling over the debris on the floor.

“I need to find someone,” he said. “And you’re going to help me.”

Ben and Donna sat across from each other on her living room couch, with the landline sat between them. The phone was on speaker as it rang. The longer it took, the more annoyed he became.

“This better work,” he said. She gave him a flat look.

Finally, a woman answered the phone.

“Good afternoon. Stan Edgar’s office. How may I assist you?”

“Hi Gloria, it’s me, Donna,” she said. “I need to speak with Stan as soon as possible, please.”

“Ooh, I’m afraid he’s in a meeting.”

“Trust me, he’s going to want to take this call.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid his next availability isn’t until next week. And next month if you want an in-person meeting.”

“Just tell him to call me back asap!” She said, hanging up the phone in a huff. Ben gave her an unimpressed look.

“That was your big fucking plan?” he said.

She huffed. “You think breaking into Vought is going to be easy? Let alone finding that weasel. He’s got the best security money can buy, and by the way, finding where they’re keeping your little girlfriend isn’t going to be any easier. They could’ve stashed her literally anywhere by now.”

You think I don’t fucking know that? Ben got up from the couch with an angry breath. He turned away from her and rubbed at his beard in contemplation. He shouldn’t have let you go anywhere alone.

I should’ve been there. The thought gripped him, deep in his gut. Guilt was an unfamiliar, uncomfortable feeling.

“We’re going to need help,” Donna said.

His bad mood took a turn for the worst. He glanced back at her.  

“What, the rest of the fucking Scooby gang?” he snarked.

“Or you can try going in alone, guns blazing,” she shrugged. Her sharpened gaze met his. “How fast do you think they’ll kill her, just to spite you?”

Ben’s jaw clenched. Donna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms.

“Or worse. They’ll put you back in a box and ship you back to the Russians,” she said. Her snide smile had him clenching his teeth. “Either way, you’ll never see her again.”

With everything in his being, Ben wanted to fry this bitch to Kingdom Come.

“Get up,” he ordered. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving.”

Donna’s expression fell. “What?"

"You heard me!" he barked, grabbing her arm to pull Donna to her feet. "Get the fuck up."

She struggled against his grip. "Where’re we going?”

“To find those fucking Twins.”

They took her car, a tiny sedan. Evidently, the end of Payback hadn’t been good for Donna’s career. Arthur had told him that, irony of ironies, she now sang at a Soldier Boy tribute act at Voughtland to pay her bills. And as he’d seen earlier, she needed to pad her income in other ways.

She was driving them up to Vermont. It was going to take days, and Ben was already sick of her.

It was a small blessing when they stopped at a gas station in the nighttime. She gave him her credit card to buy some snacks for the road while she filled up the tank. (He took the keys with him as insurance that she wouldn't bolt with the car.)

He returned with a far bigger bag than she expected. She forgot what a human garbage disposal he could be. He tossed the card back at her.

“Your card’s maxed out, by the way,” he said.

She glared at him, but she endeavored to let it go with a sigh, raising a hand to her temple. How the fuck had this become her life?

To minimize being overheard, she stepped closer to him while the gas pump kept going on her car.

“Gunpowder is the easiest one to find next. Mindstorm’s probably hiding in a hole in the middle of the woods some-goddamn-where,” she said, keeping her voice down. She gave her unwanted companion a sly look. “Though I’m thinking you want Mindstorm to stay wherever he retired.”

It brought up an unsavory memory.

After the team turned on him, Mindstorm had been the one to lock his gaze on Ben. For a moment, his feet had been rooted to the ground while Mindstorm tried to shove him deep into his mind. It had given someone the opening to slip a mask of Novichok over his face. He suspected it had been Countess.

Now, Ben turned to her with a glare at her audacity.

“You know, for a massive cunt, you’ve got some brass balls,” he said dangerously. “How the fuck didn’t I see what a vindictive little snake you were from the beginning?”

Donna scoffed in derision.

“I’m vindictive? Says the cheating, lying, bastard,” she snapped.

“Oh, shut your hole. You knew what I was doing, and you didn’t give a shit,” he said with a glare. He leveled a finger at her. “You used me to get exactly what you fucking wanted. Fame, money, and all the perks that come with it.”

Her lips pursed, like she didn’t want to admit it. But if they were airing out dirty laundry, then she wasn’t pulling any more punches.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one. Was I?” she said. “Anyone who ever smiled at you, fawned over you, or sucked your dick was trying to get something from you. Or, they were scared of you. Because you’re a bully. A fucking monster. And sooner or later, Sirena won’t be able to stomach you anymore.”

The thin leash on his temper finally snapped. He reacted, reaching out to grab her by the throat. He was truly thinking about breaking her neck.

Donna choked for air and gripped his wrist. “Without me, you’ll have no one. Good…fucking…luck finding her.”

Ben was furious, but he battled it down, expelling a breath of frustration.

He released her. She coughed and gasped and stumbled a few feet away from him, glaring at him all the while through her fear.

When she was eventually able to stand again, she and Ben shared a look of mutual loathing, but also, of understanding.

It was an uneasy truce. For now.

You were quickly unraveling alone in the dark.

You felt the phantom cold of your old cell. No matter how you rubbed your arms through the leather of your supe suit, you couldn’t get warm. You released a shaky breath and swiped at your tears.

You missed Ben. He had to know by now that you were in trouble, but you didn’t know if he’d know how to find you. Or worse, if they found him first.

You steeled yourself and tried to calm your panic. You counted to thirty. Your eyes flit to every small detail of your cell that you could name: the small crack in the gray linoleum tile, the line of ants slowly creeping along the corner, the brittle wool blanket you were sitting on, laid over your cot.

When your breathing was steady, you tried to think. You didn’t know where you were, of course, but you could try to sense how big the building was.

You did something you rarely did. You cast your awareness outward as far as you could reach.

There were very few male energies, and you only picked up on a few scattered thoughts.

Until you found one. It felt…strong, but young. A kid?

Jesus Christ, what’re they doing in this place? you thought.

What…who’s there?

You heard the voice in your mind, small and afraid and lonely. Before you could answer him, the door of your cell opened to a few familiar faces.

There was an older man in a lab coat that you recognized, but you couldn’t place his name until you read his monogram. Vogelbaum. Followed by Stan Edgar and Black Noir, who came to stand behind you. You knew that if you made any wrong moves, Noir would kill you this time.

Quickly you read their energies as you observed them.

Vogelbaum gave off mild interest in you, but it felt clinical. Stan felt resigned and calculating as he took you in.

“For what it’s worth, I do wish it hadn’t come to this, Sirena,” Stan said. “We didn’t intend for you to get caught up our deal with Russia.”

He may have been telling the truth, but that didn’t mean you cared.

“You’re in the most secure lab we have,” he said, gesturing to your wall-to-wall cell without windows. “No one knows you’re here, and no one will find you.”

You smiled dryly. “So what do you want from me?”

“I want to know how you and Soldier Boy escaped the facility in Russia,” he said, gathering his hands behind his back.

What he really meant was, How did you escape? So we can make the next cell even more effective.

You leaned forward and spat at his shoes.

Black Noir grabbed you by the back of your neck and yanked you back. Your jaw clenched in anger, but you didn’t struggle. Even if you opened your mouth to sing, Noir would snap your neck before your powers had time to affect him.

Stan remained unaffected by your outburst, though he glanced down at his shoes.

“These are handmade Italian leather,” he remarked.

“Even if you find Ben, you’ll never be able to kill him,” you said tersely.

“We don’t need to kill him. Nor will we need to find him,” Stan said. “He’s already looking for you.”

Your eyes widened. Your heart swelled with both hope and dread, though you tried to hide it.

“We have a plan to neutralize him. Several, in fact,” he added, and spread his hands wide. “Until then…welcome home.”

Smug bastard. You glared back at him.

He left, along with Vogelbaum. Black Noir glanced back at you once, then he was gone.

The lights in your cell turned off, leaving you in darkness. You heaved a breath and couldn’t help the tears that found hot paths down your cheeks. You curled your knees up on the cot and held them to your chest.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if you could pretend the room wasn’t pitch black. You focused your breathing, in and out, until your heartbeat began to slow down from its panic.

The kid, you remembered.

You licked your dry lips and tried casting your awareness out again. When you found the familiar energy from before, you reached out to him.

Hey, are you there? you prodded.

Who the hell are you?

It’s okay. Don’t be scared, you said, and you gave him your name. Are you locked up here?

Y-Yeah.

I’m sorry to hear that. I am too.

How can you be talking to me…in my head?

Well, it’s complicated, you admitted. It’s a new power I’m trying out, thanks to my time as a human test subject.

Something told you this kid knew the feeling.

What’s your name? you asked.

Um…John. I’m John.

  AN: 🤭 Oh, yeah, we're going there.

How did you like getting Ben's perspective on things? And his "forced" team up with Countess to find the rest of the cast of Payback. 😬 What could possibly go wrong?

Next Time: 

Ben hated to admit it (so he wouldn’t), but she had a point. It took him a minute to wrangle in his ire, taking deep breaths to try and calm the power inside him. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

This time, it actually did.

His hand fell back to his side, letting the younger man breathe freely.

“Let’s go.” Ben turned on his heel and headed out.

“Where, uh…where’re we going?” Charlie asked, rubbing his sore neck.

“Looks like we’re getting the team back together,” Ben said grimly.

He tilted his head.

“Well. What’s left of it.”

Don't want to wait until next week?

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[queens-of-spirits]

The Poolverine Playlist

So as I mentioned in the latest chapter of my fic, I have a Poolverine Playlist. I had some people say they were interested so here it is! Please let me know if you have additions or edits to these songs to share! It’s under read more because it is loooooong. I was going to add links but tumblr will not let me add that many.

Like a Prayer by Madonna (3 versions). You know why this is here, I know why this is here, no explanation needed, it is their song

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and the News. It’s the song that plays while Wade is searching for his dream man a wolverine

You’re the One that I want - From Grease. The Honda Odyssey song!!! The thing that, combined with the come hither motions, the taunting, the belt grab, and literally ever other part of this scene, makes it clear that there was a little more than fighting going on in that car.

If I Could Turn Back Time by Cher. I know this one is more from the second movie, but the themes of time travelling to undo past mistakes (specifically of cruel worlds like those initially shared between them) really fits their story

The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer. My personal alternative soundtrack to the Honda Odyssey scene. They both were enjoying stabbing each other a biiiiit to much for this not to be fair game.

Love Grows (Where My Rosemary Goes) by Edison Lighthouse. I can’t stop imagining this playing over a series of domestic vignettes post-movie where Logan realizes he’s in love. Also, there is hand-holding imagery, you’ll see a lot of that in this list.

Problems by Mother Mother. Particularly the first few verses. The whole finding love in a strange place while locked up in a cage is very them (“Not all of you was asleep,” anyone?) and that first bit about the singer believing that the subject is good enough for heaven but they aren’t? I can see the edits in my mind’s eye. The best part? It works no matter who you imagine as the singer.

Wrecking Ball by Mother Mother. This could be either of them, but I just can’t help by see Logan dealing with his anger and violence and idea that he ruined his worlds and then the two coming together to be fucked up and break shit together.

Curses by The Crane Wives. This is so Worst Wolverine. His world is destroyed and it’s his fault, but then Wade comes along and makes it all easier somehow.

Tongue’s & Teeth by The Crane Wives. Again, so Logan it HURTS. Feeling like a monster that hurts or destroys every good thing and will ruin Wade too, but willing to accept the fact that Wade seems to know this, but doesn’t care.

Predator by The Crane Wives (I really like their music lol). It’s on their latest albums and again. It really embodies the character of Logan to me. Tim’s hard to describe without just showing you guys the lyrics, so honestly go listen to it guys.

Sticks and Stones by The Pierces. This one is hard to describe, so please trust me and listen to it with Poolverine in mind

Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. Okay, if I had to pick another song for the hand holding to Madonna scene, it’s this one. The vibes are immaculate, the theme talking about not being understood but finding someone who sees you are perfect, but that’s not why it’s here. It’s here because if two lines that are so much like Logan in that moment where he rushes in to save Wade. One: “you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be/And I don’t want to go home right now.” This one is Logan finding something in Wade he’d thought he’d lost and realizing, perhaps even in that moment, that he doesn’t want to go back to a fixed world. Two: the very first line “and I’d give up forever to touch you.” Logan believes that if he goes in that chamber he will die, but he breaks down the door anyway. He’s literally giving up his effectively immortal lifespan (forever) to touch Wade because he’d rather die with him that live in a universe where he doesn’t exist.

Too Sweet by Hozier. This one is so Logan falling in love with Wade post-movie. Logan having another chance at life and Wade trying to pull him out of his most self-destructive habits while Logan can’t think of anything but how Wade is too good, too sweet for him.

This is Love by Air Traffic Controller. I love these boys but they are a liiiiittle toxic. This is that (plus the knife and gun imagery)

The Red Means I Love You by Madds Buckley. Remember that scene where Wade bled into Logan’s mouth and he had that feral ass grin and laughed? Yeah.

I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE by Måneskin. You say rough sex I say Poolverine.

Big Bang Theory Man by Clare Fader and The Vaudevillians. It’s another toxic romance vibes song. This one has guns lol

Somebody to Love by Queen. I think this really exemplifies their lives before they find each other. They’re both lost, both put down by life and the world. They don’t know it yet, but they’re just looking for somebody to love.

You Give Love a Bad Name by Bon Jovi. A little more toxicity for the boys. Logan singing this about Wade works well. Like with the idea that Logan played his part in Wade’s game and got sent to the void. Plus comparing Wade to a loaded gun? Yes. Just yes

You Make My Dreams (Come True) by Daryl Hall & John Oates. I like to believe that they both made each other’s dreams come true. Wade got to team up with Wolverine and Logan got a second chance.

The Other Side from the Greatest Showman soundtrack. Look I know Hugh is the one singing here, but I can’t help but draw comparisons from this song to Wade dragging Logan away from the bar where he’s content to waste away.

I Don’t Care if You’re Contagious by Pierce the Veil. My beta reader (crypticanid here on tumblr) recommended this one so it’s here.

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. The chain is them holding hands to save the world :-)

Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Springsteen. Here for dad rock energy and because it fits pre-movie Logan.

Shackled And Drawn by Bruce Springsteen. See above (Springsteen is peak dad rock to me)

Angel Eyes & Basketball by Foot Ox. Look at these opening eyes and tell it isn’t Logan “There are flowers growing all around a massive animal inside of me/And it's so ugly/And I'm so broken/And I'm so ugly/And it's so broken”

Heaven’s Gate by Amélie Farren. This is so Worst Wolverine pre-movie. He’s lost and helpless and blames himself for ruining his world. Also, the bit about “I was told that I was vital in the plan to save my life” is giving Logan agreeing to help Wade so the TVA can fix his world. And not believing in Wade and always running away before finally deciding to stay and follow? So represented in this song. Also! “‘Cause I didn’t deserve heaven, but I’m standing at its gate”? That is so Logan when he sees the start of his life with Wade stretch out before him.

Creepy Old Guy from the Beetlejuice musical soundtrack. This is one of the silly ones, but I find the idea of Wade singing this about Logan, who remember is over 200, really funny. He’s Logan’s controversially young girlfriend.

November by Sparkbird. It’s a song about travelling grouch parallel universes and the vibes are very Poolverine. Plenty of knife imagery.

Loser, Baby from the Hazbin Hotel soundtrack. Look I know this one is a little off the wall, but c’mon, it’s a song where an animal themed alcoholic and a hyper sexual gun-lover who are heavily implied to have feelings for each other sing about how life sucks and they’re both losers, but at least they have each other. It’s one the nose (I would actually cry if someone did artwork of them dancing in front of that billboard like in the show)

[lewmagoo]

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part two: under pressure

read part one here

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

description: in which you decide to face your fears

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

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

word count: 11,838

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

You curled up beneath the covers that night, eager to get some much-needed rest after a day spent cleaning and socializing. Your body was so weary, and as you snuggled into the softness of Rhett’s bed, your eyes grew heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow, and you drifted off into dreamland. 

But a few hours later, you woke to the sound of your name being sharply whispered into the gray morning light. It took a moment for you to draw yourself to consciousness, climbing your way out of layers of dreams, before your eyes flew open and you found yourself staring into Rhett’s face. 

“Hey, sorry t’ wake ya so early, but there’s storm activity over by Sapulpa. Wanna come with us?” He asked, voice low. 

You squinted, glancing over at the small digital clock on the nightstand. It was barely five in the morning. It had only been a few hours since you’d pledged to go on a chase with Rhett. You had certainly not been prepared for it to be this soon. 

“Fuck it,” you grumbled, tossing the covers off. “I’ll come.”

“You don’t have to if—”

“I’m comin’,” came your sharp reply. You hurried to your suitcase, where you dug out some clothes to change into. 

“Alright, I’ll be in the truck.” He kept his voice at a whisper, but there was an excitement in his tone, electricity in the air. 

When he left the room, you let out a breath, a shudder running through your body. The beginnings of adrenaline had begun to course through you, and your heart rate picked up as you realized what was happening. This was it. You’d made a bet and now you had to follow through with it. 

So, running off of four hours of sleep, with a body that ached from exhaustion, you got dressed, shoved your feet into your shoes, grabbed your phone, and quietly scurried out into the hall and down the steps. 

You were surprised to see Cecilia in the kitchen doorway, waiting for you. “Take this,” she said, placing a paper bag full of breakfast goods such as granola bars and homemade muffins in your hands. Then she patted your hand. “And be careful, you hear me? Both of you.”

“We will be,” you assured her. 

She didn’t seem at all surprised that you were going. Either Rhett had already told her, or she’d simply assumed you would end up going at some point. 

After you bid her goodbye, you burst through the front door and onto the porch, shoes scraping against wood as you bounded down the steps. You jogged to the truck, and in the distance, you could see an F150 and an RV coming down the road. 

The team was coming together. It was time to chase down some twisters. 

With your heart pounding in your chest and your hands trembling, you climbed into the passenger seat of Rhett’s truck, shoving the bag of food down onto the floorboards. Rhett was already in the driver’s seat, fiddling with the radio dial, trying to find a weather broadcast. 

“Y’ready for this?” He asked you.

A shuddering breath escaped your lungs. “As I’ll ever be.” A lie. You were nowhere near ready for this. But you’d already made a promise, so you had to stick it out. 

“Hey,” Rhett continued, bumping your arm gentle with his own. “If you need to stop at any point, just let me know, alright?”

You mustered a smile. “I will,” you promised. You folded your hands in your lap so they’d stop shaking. 

Moments later, after the team pulled in, you glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Zara jump out of the Ford, headed for you and Rhett. With her thick curls piled into a bun atop her head, a pair of smart denim shorts and a tucked in button-down with the sleeves rolled up, she looked ready to get down to business. 

When she saw you, her face broke into a grin. “You’re coming!” She exclaimed, speaking through the truck window Rhett had just opened. 

“Yeah! Had to carry out my end of the bargain,” you told her, trying to sound humorous, but you were certain that your trepidation overshadowed any attempt at being funny.

She held up an iPad. “Here, I’ll let you monitor the radar, if you’re comfortable with that?” 

You looked at weather radar screens for a living. You were more than capable of monitoring the storm path, but you still felt your chest tighten with uncertainty. Even so, you reached out and took the device from her. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Great! All of us communicate through walkies, so if you have any questions, just radio me.”

“I will. Thanks,” you replied with a nod. And then, “Oh! Here, have some breakfast for the road.” You reached into the bag from Cecilia and pulled out some muffins and breakfast bars, thrusting them into her hands. “Give some to Finn and Danny too!”

“Thank you! See ya on the road!” Then she was off, jogging back to the truck.

You settled back against the seat, breathing out a sigh. Beside you, Rhett leaned closer. “Hey,” he hummed, “you’re gon’ be just fine.”

You tried your best to believe him.

As he pulled onto the main road, headed toward Sapulpa, you unlocked the iPad, familiarizing yourself with its layout before you located the radar app. With trembling fingers, you put the location into the search bar and waited for it to pull the correct screen up.

Seconds later, there it was. A large, red colored cloud moving over the map, indicating severe weather activity. Sapulpa wasn’t too far away. A fifteen-minute drive and you’d be there. 

As Rhett drove, accelerating ten miles over the speed limit, you found yourself secretly hoping that you would not encounter a twister on this run. Maybe it would only be a storm. But you knew this area. You were more than familiar with the weather patterns here. 

You looked up at the sky, noticing the angry gray clouds in the distance, roiling with thunder and lightning, full of raindrops, just waiting to unleash their fury upon the earth below. 

It felt as if you were driving straight into the belly of the beast, and essentially, you were. 

Forcing your eyes back down to the screen in your lap, you studied the radar, taking notice of the severe weather banner that had just popped up across the screen. In your pocket, your phone buzzed, and you didn’t have to look at it to know that a tornado warning had been issued for the area. 

Oh, god. 

“Y’ still with me?” Rhett’s voice pulled your attention to him. 

“Yeah, I…I’m fine,” you lied right through your teeth. You glanced out the back window of the truck, and eyed the trailer full of nitrogen tanks, metal rattling loudly. 

It was up to you and Rhett to get these tanks into position. You had to face the danger head-on, get ahead of the potential twister, and make the drop, all while trying to avoid being blown off course by the wind. 

This was a suicide mission. 

But you refused to back out, swallowing your terror and keeping a close eye on the radar. You were getting closer to the brewing storm. Although it was early morning and the sun had just begun to rise, it was eerily dark, clouds casting a shadow over the rolling plains. 

As your gaze flickered to the fields that framed the stretch of highway, you watched the grass ripple in the wind. Without thinking, you moved to open the window, and a blast of humid air hit you in the face. 

A flash of lightning tore through the sky, and seconds later, a deafening clap of thunder made you jump. 

Beside you, Rhett eyed you briefly, unbeknownst to you. He was watching your body language, looking for any signs of distress. Just a few days ago, you’d sworn to him you couldn’t stomach the thought of chasing again. And now here you were, sitting beside him. 

He questioned if you were ready for this. But you seemed fine, so he left it alone. 

“How’s the radar lookin’?” He asked you.

You tore your gaze away from the sky, quickly pressing the button to shut the window before you looked at the screen. “It’s moving fast. Rain will probably hit soon.”

Before you even finished your sentence, the first few drops began pelting against the truck. Thunder rumbled. Your heart skipped a beat. 

You could hear Zara speaking over the radio, but you were too busy focusing on the sky, searching for any sign of funnel activity. Your limbs buzzed with adrenaline. Your chest felt tight. Your breathing was rushed. 

The rain gave way to hailstones, clattering against the truck, and the sky above took on a sickening green hue. 

Sirens began to wail, a haunting sound that made you want to cover your ears. You hadn’t heard those sirens in so long. Hearing them now transported you back to the day you’d lost your dearest friends. 

You could hear Rhett speaking your name, but he sounded so distant. You were too busy staring at the sky. And then the hail stopped, and aside from the sirens, the outside world was deafeningly quiet. 

You thought your terror was going to swallow you whole. 

“Talk to me!” Rhett finally exclaimed, grabbing your arm, pulling your attention to him. His eyes were wide, searching your face. 

But before you could speak, a loud roar drowned out any possible conversation. You turned back to the window, and you saw it. A funnel protruding from the sky. 

A twister had touched down. 

Rhett stomped on the gas, headed east, trying to get ahead of the twister so the trailer could be put in place. You were frozen, staring up at the phenomenon, body cold with fright. 

“I need you t’ stay with me, you hear?! You gotta keep an eye on it, I need to know where to drop the trailer!” He called out to you. 

“O-okay!” You managed to shout back. 

The truck moved faster and faster as Rhett fought to stay on track. You wanted to guide him. To communicate with him and tell him exactly what to do, where to go. But you couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. All you could see was that tornado, coming right at you. This was how your friends had died. Staring into the face of this vicious funnel. 

Was this how you were going to die?

“Rhett.”

“Am I at a good distance?!” 

Had he even heard you? “Stop.”

“Talk to me! Can I drop the trailer now?!”

“STOP!” 

Rhett glanced at you and he saw the distress on your face. He knew what he had to do. “Shit,” he swore. He gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as he made a split second decision and violently yanked the wheel to the left, veering off the road and into the cornfield on the other side. 

He nearly lost control as the truck careened forward several miles, jostled against the uneven earth. You thrust your hands against the dashboard, fighting to hold yourself steady. The iPad in your lap went tumbling to the floor. 

“Rhett! What’s going on?!” Jeslyn shouted over the radio. 

He was too busy trying not to overturn the entire truck. When he slammed on the brakes, the force sent the entire trailer of nitrogen tanks on its side, snapping the hitch right off. 

Your fight or flight response kicked in, and in a desperate attempt to escape the situation, you threw your door open, unable to spend another minute in the claustrophobic truck cab. Rhett yelled your name, but you didn’t hear him over the roar of the wind. 

As soon as your feet hit the ground, you were running, eyes searching for a ditch or any sort of shelter. The wind whipped around you, its force pushing you along. You couldn’t see the twister over the high stalks of corn, but you didn’t need to see it to feel it.

Raw power, so overwhelming it took your breath away.

And then, all of a sudden, something solid collided with your back, and a pair of arms cinched around your waist. “Are you insane, girl?! Gon’ get yourself killed!” Rhett yelled over the storm.

You let out a shriek of surprise as he wrangled you to the ground, his body on top of yours, shielding you from the danger. 

And then, all at once, everything went silent. You heard the sound of crying. It took you a moment to realize the sound was coming from you.

“Hey, hey, I’m here, I’ve got ya,” Rhett’s voice was in your ear, breathless and gruff. He moved to sit on the ground, pulling you up with him, tugging your body against his chest. You buried your face against the side of his neck and sobbed.

He held you tight, listening to you cry. The residual breeze from the storm blew through his hair. He’d lost his hat when he jumped out of the truck and ran after you, he realized. But that didn’t matter now. The danger was gone, but you were falling apart. 

He should have known this was a bad idea. But you’d insisted you could handle it. And now he was cradling you in his arms as your tears soaked into the collar of his shirt. He remembered so vividly holding you this way when Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia had been killed. He was hit with a deeply rooted pain, blossoming through his chest as he relived the memory.

It still hurt just as badly as the day it happened. And here he thought he’d buried that grief long ago. It had been there all along, just waiting to rear its ugly head.

“It’s gon’ be okay,” he whispered against the top of your head. “I’m right here, you’re safe, nothin’ is gonna hurt you. Not while I’m here.” 

You lifted your head to wail out, “I-I ruined it! I should have ne– never come!”

“No, darlin’. Y’ didn’t ruin anythin’,” he tried to reason.

“A-all of Zara’s hard work! It’s messed up because of me!” You were spiraling, filled with regret. This had been such a colossal mistake. 

At that moment, voices could be heard in the distance. Rhett lifted his head, listening. He could hear his name and yours being called. Thank god the rest of the team was alright.

“Found ‘em!” It was Danny’s voice, full of panic as he burst through the wall of cornstalks, eyes wide. “Holy shit, are you guys alright?!” He slid to a halt, lowering to his knees beside you both.

Behind him, Finn, Zara, and Jeslyn all appeared, looking just as disheveled and frightened. 

“Oh my god, what happened?!” Zara exclaimed. She eyed your trembling form, crying into Rhett’s shoulder, and her face softened.

Rhett caught her gaze. The two shared unspoken communication. She knew what he was trying to convey with just his face. You hadn’t been ready for this.

You managed to bring yourself to look into Zara’s face, tears streaking down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come with you guys.”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize,” she said, reaching out to touch your shoulder. “You’re safe, that’s what matters.”

You shook your head, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand. “No, I…I ruined everything, I’m so sorry.”

Finn and Danny stepped away to check on the equipment, while Zara and Jeslyn remained with you and Rhett. 

“No, honey. You didn’t ruin everything. Trust me, those tanks are fine,” Jeslyn assured you. Her eyes were kind, and her voice was gentle. 

Thunder boomed overhead again, and you jumped, pressing yourself even closer to Rhett. He held you just a little tighter. You were safe with him. He would make sure of that.

“Everything looks alright!” The sound of Finn’s voice carried over the field as he and Danny jogged back over. “The hitch snapped, but we can fix it. I figure Rhett can weld it back on since it’s his truck and all.”

“Yeah, it ain’t a big deal to fix,” Rhett replied. 

“Tanks are okay too, they even stayed in the trailer, nothing fell out.” Finn looked at you, making sure to catch your eye. “No harm, no foul.”

“It was a quick twister anyway, not even that big. We probably wouldn’t have been able to get the tanks open fast enough as it was, so it really isn’t a big deal that we didn’t get ‘em into position. Don’t beat yourself up,” came Zara’s words. 

Sniffling, you managed a nod. You were deeply grateful for everyone’s kindness and understanding. You still felt terrible, however. Part of you felt like a scared little child, and you hated it. You were angry at yourself for being unable to handle it. 

“So what’s the plan now? We gotta get those tanks back to Rhett’s place, plus it’s gonna downpour any minute, so we should probably work fast,” you heard Danny say. “There could end up being another twister in the area if the storm keeps at it.”

As the girls and guys put together a plan, you tried to calm yourself down. Rhett hadn’t let you go yet, choosing to remain on the ground with you curled safely against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, for what felt like the hundredth time.

“Hey, look at me.”

You brought your eyes to his. The blue was so intense, it nearly took your breath away. 

“Don’t go sayin’ you’re sorry. You got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“I just kept thinking about that day, and I…I froze,” you whispered, throat tight with a knot of emotion. “I was so stupid to think I could do it.”

“At least you tried, alright? That’s what matters. Nobody expects you t’ just jump right back into it after all these years.”

“I know, I just–”

“No, don’t you start spiralin’ on me, y’hear? Stop beatin’ yourself up about it. Nobody got hurt, and that’s what we all care about at the end of the day. When it comes down to it, if I’ve gotta choose between makin’ sure you’re safe, or stoppin’ a twister, I’m gonna choose you every damn time.”

His words made your chest grow warm, and your bottom lip quivered. He hadn’t changed in all this time. He was just as caring as ever. 

When you threw your arms around his neck to hug him, he hugged you right back, rocking you from side to side before he finally released you. Cool drops of rain began to fall from the sky, interrupting your moment.

Quickly, Rhett stood, reaching for your hand to pull you to your feet. “C’mon, let’s get to the truck.” With his hand still wrapped around yours, he pulled you along, and you ran back through the field to the place where he’d stopped the truck.

When you reached the old Sierra, the team was just finishing putting all the nitrogen tanks in the back of the truck. It appeared that Danny and Finn had managed to jury-rig the trailer so that Rhett could get it back home.

Hurriedly, Rhett guided you into the truck in an effort to shield you from the rain, slamming the door shut and stopping only for a moment to talk to the guys before they parted ways. He jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine, maneuvering through the field and back out onto the main road. 

The drive back home was silent, save for the sound of rain pounding against the roof of the truck. You stared out the window, still upset at the way you had reacted. 

“You don’t have to hold up your end of the deal now, since I couldn’t hold up mine,” you finally told Rhett, referring to the promise he’d made to ride in the rodeo that weekend.

But he shook his head. “Nah, you still did, even if ya didn’t hold out for the whole thing. If you had to face somethin’ that scares you, it’s only fair that I do it too. I’m gonna get on a bull this weekend, because that’s what I said I’d do.”

You let out a breath. “Well, I’ll be in the stands cheering you on then.”

“Jus’ like old times, huh?”

“Yeah…like old times.”

You were choosing not to dwell on the fact that during ‘old times’1, you’d felt his blood seep through your fingers as you fought to keep him alive after that bull had driven a horn into his stomach. That was a freak occurrence. It wouldn’t happen this time around.

At least, that’s what you hoped.

Later that morning, you arrived back on the Abbott farm, feeling weary from the adrenaline crash, as well as the lack of sleep from the night before. Once Rhett stopped in the driveway, you stumbled out of the truck and onto the red dirt. 

The sky was gray, indicating that the storm was following you, and would surely dump buckets of rain on the property. It seemed to have calmed down, so it didn’t appear as if it would turn into anything serious. You knew your poor nerves could not handle another twister that day.

The team converged as you headed toward the porch, but you paused when you heard Danny speaking to Rhett. He was trying to keep his voice low so you wouldn’t hear, but you caught it anyway. “There’s more damage than we thought. Specifically to the wiring on the trailer. It’s gonna take longer to fix,” he explained.

You felt an aching pang in your chest. This was all your fault.

You didn’t stick around to hear what Rhett had to say. You simply trudged up the porch steps and into the house. You just wanted to be alone, but to your dismay, Cecilia was in the home office, which had a full view of the entryway you were currently in.

She saw the bleak look on your face, and she immediately rose from her seat at the desk. “Honey, what happened?”

Her concern was what broke you. Instantly, more tears welled up in your eyes, and your shoulders shook as a sob left your throat. Without hesitation, she came to your aid, wrapping her arms around you. “Hey now, you’re gonna be just fine.”

You didn’t believe that.

When Rhett stepped into the house, he took in the sight of his mother comforting you, and he spared her a saddened glance. She nodded in understanding, though no words were shared between the two of them. He headed into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee, deciding it best to give you space.

A few minutes later, after you finally excused yourself to head upstairs and get some rest, Cecilia joined her son in the kitchen.

Rhett stood at the sink, idly stirring his coffee as he stared out into the water-washed scene unfolding outside the kitchen window. “She wasn’t ready, Mom,” he murmured.

“I can see that,” she replied. “What happened out there? Radio said a twister touched down.”

“It did. We were tryin’ to get in range so we could drop the tanks. But as soon as it touched down she started panicking. Like full-on hyperventilatin’. I had to swerve off the road and as soon as I stopped, she jumped out. Scared me to death. Thought the twister was gonna take her from me.”

Saying those words sent his heart quickening in his chest. He had to face the fact that he still cared so deeply for you, and couldn’t stomach the thought of losing you.

“Glad you both made it outta there safely,” Cecilia murmured, moving to pour herself her second cup of coffee for the day. “Just give her time, Rhett.”

“I will,” he agreed. He downed the rest of the bitter liquid in his mug before he set the ceramic in the sink. “Gon’ go out and fix some of the stuff that got damaged in the twister. We won’t be goin’ out again for a bit, not ‘til we get everythin’ up and runnin’ again.”

He said this to give his mother peace of mind. He knew how much she worried whenever he went out on a chase. The fear of losing her boy was a very real one. 

Meanwhile, you were curled up in bed, curtains drawn, swathing the room in darkness. You hoped you would be able to get some sleep, but you were wide awake, mind racing a mile a minute. So, instead of wallowing in self-pity, you forced yourself to get up. Might as well busy yourself to get your mind off of things.

You decided to head to your great-aunt’s house to continue your cleaning project. As you ambled outside, you caught sight of Rhett, Danny, and Finn in the barn, working on getting the trailer repaired. Grimacing, you averted your eyes and instead climbed into your car.

For the next few days, you avoided Rhett, because you felt so terrible about the entire debacle. But there was never any judgment in his eyes when he looked upon you. He truly did not blame you for what had happened.

In the end, he was the one who came to you, unable to deal with your withdrawn demeanor. He approached you one morning as you were getting ready to leave.

“Hey, I, uh, was wonderin’...I know you’ve got a lot of stuff to haul outta your aunt’s house. Want some help? I can bring my truck.”

You began to protest. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” he insisted. “Y’ shouldn’t have to do it all by yourself.”

He looked so earnest, his eyes pleading, his mouth curved into a hopeful smile. How could you say no to him? “Okay, sure. Why not?”

He tried not to appear too eager, but it was written all over his face. “Alrighty, I’ll bring the truck ‘round!”

That was how you found yourself in the passenger seat of the Sierra again, happy that you were headed somewhere that didn’t involve a raging storm that could potentially kill you both. 

When you arrived at the house, you led Rhett up to the porch, where you stopped to retrieve the spare key from beneath the welcome mat. 

“Some things never change,” he murmured upon seeing you locate the key. “She always kept that key there, didn’t she?”

You smiled as you unlocked the door. “She did.”

As you stepped into the house, Rhett paused in the entryway to glance around. A lot had changed since you’d arrived. Many things were packed away in boxes. But it still held a nostalgic feel. 

“Remember when she’d let us crash here in between chases?” He asked.

How could you forget? “Do I ever. Those were the days.”

You remembered so vividly, curling up in sleeping bags around the living room floor, too excited to sleep, knowing a storm cell could be developing at any moment. Oh, to be young and naive again, endowed with a feeling of invincibility. 

“So…weather analyzin’. How’s that treatin’ ya?” Rhett continued in an effort to kill any awkward silence.

You shrugged as you set about organizing the kitchen, motioning for him to get involved. “Pretty well. I actually really like it.”

“Yeah? Must be a lot cushier than facin’ the storms head-on. At least you got a screen separatin’ you from all the destruction.”

“Yep. It’s a lot safer, that’s for sure.”

“How’s livin’ in Silver Spring?”

“I can say we don’t get many twisters. Which I’m happy about.”

“Guess that’s a plus,” came his response.

You opened up the pantry, preparing to sort through all the food that remained there. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Rhett said as he grabbed the box of garbage bags you silently pointed to. 

You continued speaking as he placed the box in your hand.  “How’d you meet Zara and all them? They all went to OU together. You’re the odd man out.”

He smirked. “What, think a dumb hick like me can’t hang around educated folk?”

You rolled your eyes as you opened one of the garbage bags. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know,” he assured you. “Actually, Zara heard about us. She read the news stories about what happened. She got a hold of me a couple years ago and started askin’ questions. Wanted to see if I’d like to get involved with her project. So I said, why the hell not? She introduced me to her team and had me come to OU to see how their setup worked.”

“You got to see it in action?” You were intrigued.

“Yeah. Jeslyn’s pretty fuckin’ brilliant when it comes to building things. She and Danny and Finn are the ones that put together a machine that can simulate a twister. Zara used a tank of nitrogen to stop the twister. Obviously it ain’t the same as the real thing, but I thought it was pretty damn cool. Figured I didn’t have much to lose, so I teamed up with ‘em, and we’ve been workin’ together ever since.”

“Have you guys been testing out the nitrogen stuff for very long?”

“It ain’t been field tested, if that’s what you mean. We’re tryin’ to see if it works on an actual twister first. After that, Zara wants to get a grant so she can start testin’ on a larger scale. Plus, Danny and Finn are workin’ on this new radar equipment, once it’s ready we’re gonna take it out on a chase with us. The idea is that it’ll help us track storm cells better, and hopefully let us know what we’re up against faster.”

“Huh, I didn’t know they were working on that,” you mused, intrigued. 

“Yeah, they’ve been puttin’ it together for months now. I think they don’t wanna jinx it, so they haven’t said anything. But Finn just told me the other day that it’ll probably be ready for the next chase we go on.”

“Wow. They’re all weather geniuses.” Knowing they were doing so much sent a pang of deep longing through your chest. 

Part of you wished you were doing more than sitting behind a screen at work, watching the weather ravage the country, unable to do anything more but issue warnings and hope for the best. If only you had the guts to actually get out there and take action against the phenomenon that had taken your friends from you.

“They sure are,” Rhett agreed. “Sometimes I feel pretty damn inadequate because I’m just a farm boy from Oklahoma. But they still wanna hang with the likes of me, for whatever reason.”

“Because you’re pretty great,” you heard yourself say. You hadn’t meant to speak it aloud.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smiled a crooked smile, the apples of his cheeks rounding. 

In an effort to change the subject, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did anyone talk to Beau about you riding this weekend? After what happened on Monday I, uh, was so frazzled that I forgot to track him down.”

“Zara talked to him. Said she wasn’t gonna let me get out of it so easy. So, I’m on track to ride after the rest of the contestants. Beau said it was gon’ be an honorary thing, ‘cause apparently it’s been ten years on the dot since I rode last.”

Ten years. Had it really been that long? So much had happened since then, it felt like both a lifetime and no time at all had passed. 

“Are you nervous?” You questioned.

He shrugged, suddenly finding an old box of crackers very interesting, avoiding your gaze. “Kinda.”

He was scared to death, you realized. You could see it in his eyes. But he was pushing himself to do this. At this point, it wasn’t just because he’d made a deal with you. It was because he wanted to prove to himself that he could do it. That he could face his fears and come out on the other side. Perhaps not unscathed, but a better person because of it.

“You’re gonna do great,” you assured him, offering a vote of confidence.

“Sure hope so.”

The rest of the morning carried on with quiet conversation as you worked to clear out the kitchen. A few hours later, you were feeling accomplished, and hungry. So Rhett offered to take you to the diner in town for lunch.

That was how you found yourself sitting in a booth across from him, a spread of food between you both. You reminisced about the past, talking about times before everything had fallen apart. Good memories that you could both share laughter over. 

You found yourself gazing at Rhett, at his easy smile and his sparkling eyes, illuminated by the early afternoon light shining through the windows, and you were transported back to a time when you were so in love with him. A time when you promised him you would be his forever. 

“You listenin’?” His voice, low and velvety, pulled you back to reality.

“I…I’m sorry, I was distracted,” you sheepishly replied.

He looked at you, brow pulling together, as if he knew you’d been admiring him. But he didn’t acknowledge it. “I was askin’ if you wanted to get outta here and head back to the farm.”

“Oh, um, sure. Yeah, let’s get back.”

With that, he opened his wallet and pulled out some cash for a tip before he stood to his feet. You followed suit, and once he’d paid for the meal, you made your way back out to the truck. Things were comfortable between the two of you again. The events that had happened earlier that week during the chase faded into the background, nothing more than a memory. 

You were glad you had agreed to let him come and help you. It had cleared the air and made way for your friendship to continue blossoming, slowly repairing after so much time apart. 

The rest of the week went by in a breeze. You kept busy with working in your aunt’s house, allowing Rhett to tag along when he had the chance to. When he wasn’t with you, he was working alongside his father on the farm, or he was repairing the trailer so it could be reattached to the hitch on his truck.

Strangely enough, the weather had calmed down, despite it being storm season. There had been some rain showers here and there, but no storms, and no twisters, either. You were glad, because you weren’t sure if your poor nerves could handle another storm that week.

You were glad for the lighthearted distraction of going to the rodeo. You hadn’t been to one in such a long time. You were looking forward to all the sights and sounds. Aside from Rhett’s near fatal injury, you had nothing but good memories of attending rodeos. 

You couldn’t help but catch on to the joy emanating from Amy at the prospect of watching her uncle ride a bull. She was over the moon about it. She had never seen him ride before, as she hadn’t even been born yet when he was still competing. All she knew about that time of his life was through the stories that he and her grandparents had told her.

“Hey! You wanna help me make a sign for uncle Rhett?” The girl asked you as you came downstairs that Saturday morning. 

You could see that she had all of her supplies ready, spread out across her grandmother’s office floor. An assortment of colored markers, glitter glue, paint, and poster board. You couldn’t help but smile at her eagerness. 

“Sure! Let me get a cup of coffee and I’ll come help,” you told her.

Her eyes went wide with excitement and she bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yay! Okay, I’ll be in here waiting for you!” She said, scurrying into the office.

Her childlike wonder warmed your heart. You were happy you’d agreed to stay at the Abbotts, if only for the whimsy Amy brought to the experience. Her personality was almost too big for her small body. It was clear that she was the greatest joy in both her grandparent's and Rhett’s lives. 

You were more than happy to help her make a sign for the rodeo. After you poured yourself a cup of coffee, you settled on the hardwood floor of the office, right beside Amy. She handed you different supplies and even allowed you to write the words she wanted to say on the poster board. 

“You write better than me, so I want you to do it. I want the words to be really big, so Uncle Rhett can see ‘em!” She explained. 

“Okay, what do you want me to write?”

“I was thinking ‘you got this Uncle Rhett!’”

“I like it!”

You settled into the carefree fun of making a glittery rodeo sign, enjoying Amy’s creative little touches here and there as she added stickers and designs. 

Halfway through, the screen door squealed open, and Amy jumped up in a panic when she realized it was Rhett. 

“What’re you gals up to?” He asked as he strolled into the house. 

“Don’t come in here!” Amy cried, rushing to push him away. “We’re workin’ on a top secret surprise!”

His brows shot up, and he stole a glance at you, currently holding the poster board at an angle so he couldn’t see what it said. “Oh yeah? You in cahoots with my niece now?” He asked you, smile playing on his lips. 

“Maybe,” came your playful response. “Don’t go spoiling your surprise now. We’ll let you see it later.”

His eyes twinkled with mischief. “Alright, alright. I’m goin’,” he said as he held his hands up in surrender. 

You kept the sign hidden until you knew for certain he’d gone upstairs. Amy bounded back over to you, pretending to wipe sweat from her brow as she exclaimed, “Whew! That was close.”

“Let’s hurry and finish it so we can hide it until later,” you suggested, voice hushed and playfully urgent. 

The girl agreed, and you both set to work, hurriedly finishing up the sign. Once you were done, you put it in an inconspicuous place, hidden away from Rhett’s prying eyes. As you helped Amy put all her art supplies away, you were struck with a warm feeling, blossoming through your chest. Here you were, making signs to cheer Rhett on, anticipating his ride later that night, just like you used to not too long ago.

You were always his biggest fan at the rodeo, that was for certain. You’d made many a sign in your day, with his name scrawled across the poster board, decorated with curlicues and glitter. You never thought it was something you’d be doing again. Oh, how things had changed. In the short time that you’d been here, your fondness for Rhett had returned. You supposed it had never left, to begin with. It had just been lying dormant for six years.

You should have known the blue-eyed cowboy would win you over again. You never could resist him.

Later on that day, as evening time approached, the excitement was palpable. Amy was bubbling with it, and it was rubbing off on everyone else. Zara, Jeslyn, Finn, and Danny arrived at the house to wish Rhett good luck before his ride. 

Cecilia was fretting, making sure Royal and Amy were ready, never one to be late to anything. Royal was amused at her behavior, and you caught him smiling fondly at her, a glimmer in his eyes. He, too, was eager to see his son ride, he just had a much different way of showing it.

He never could fully accept that Rhett had walked away from riding. In fact, there had been a time when he was even disappointed in the boy for doing so.

Royal himself had once been on top of his game as a bull rider, when he was but a young man. He had suffered many injuries during his time in the riding circuit, but he’d always gotten back on the bull. He had chastised Rhett for quitting, and although he never said it, part of him felt that his son was too soft. He needed to toughen up and get back in the ring.

It had been a point of contention between father and son, but they had since moved past it. However, now that Rhett was getting on the back of a bull again, Royal was very pleased. He might even go as far as to admit that he was proud. 

Rhett, on the other hand, was riddled with anxiety. He remembered so clearly the way he used to feel before a ride. It was as if electricity was thrumming through his veins, driving his every movement. It was deliciously exhilarating. But now, all he felt was fear. 

He kept replaying the night of his injury. It was just a freak incident. It wouldn’t happen again. But there was still the question of “what if?” in the back of his mind. He didn’t remember the pain he felt when it happened. He’d been too hyped up on adrenaline. It was almost an out-of-body experience. As if he wasn’t the one being gored by a bull. That was someone else. Another unlucky rider.

Even as he stumbled backward, his body colliding with the sand beneath him, it wasn’t real. It was a dream. A figment of his imagination. Until he was being dragged to safety and you were above him, voice filled with terror as you begged him to stay with you. That was when reality hit him like a ton of bricks, and the pain began to radiate throughout his entire body.

But that was then. This was now. Things were different. He’d long since healed from his injury, though its scar remained, a constant reminder of what he had endured. But after losing his brother and sister-in-law, along with one of his dearest friends, he had learned that oftentimes, the pain of grief was far worse than any sort of physical pain. 

If he had been able to survive the agony of loss, then he could survive a brief ride on an angry bull.

Having the people he loved most there to cheer him on made it a little easier to stomach the thought of riding. But most of all, having you there was the most wonderful part.

“You’re gonna do great. We’ll all be cheering you on the whole time,” you assured him, voice soft, as you shared a moment alone. 

He mustered a smile, humming lowly. “Y’really think I can do it?”

“I know you can.”

Your vote of confidence meant the world to him. It was his driving force as he climbed into his truck and headed to the rodeo grounds. He was going to be just fine.

Later that night, you were all arriving at the rodeo, spirits high as you all climbed out of your respective vehicles. You’d ridden with Royal, Cecilia, and Amy in the beat up old Ranger that had been in the family for years.

As soon as you climbed out of the truck, Amy was pulling you along, talking a mile a minute. “C’mon! We have to get some kettle corn before it starts!” She urged. She waved the rest of the group along.

You all found yourselves in line for the aforementioned kettle corn. The different food smells transported you to rodeos past, and the pressing weight of nostalgia took your breath away. 

“How you doing?” Came the voice of Zara, who stood behind you in line.

You turned, offering her a smile. “I’m okay! Kinda nervous for Rhett, but I know he’ll do great.”

She nodded in agreement. “Oh yeah, he’ll be just fine. I’ve never seen him ride before, so I can’t wait! He tells us all stories sometimes about his riding days. It’ll be cool to finally see him in action.”

“He was awesome,” you told her, “really, he had such a knack for it. I’m glad he’s getting back out there, even if it’s only for one night.”

“Yeah. It’s brave of him, I think. Facing his fears and all that.”

“It is.” Or maybe it was foolish. Either way, it was happening, and you were going to support him if it was the last thing you did.

Once everyone had their own respective snacks, you all followed Royal and Cecilia up to the stands. The voices of those around you overlapped. Fragments of conversations. Old friends catching up. Church ladies gossiping. Young girls giggling over the cute cowboys who would be riding that night. 

You took your seat, eyes flickering across the ring, searching for any sign of Rhett behind the gates. Your belly was fluttering with butterflies. Your heart was racing. Your palms were sweaty. When it came time to stand for the National Anthem, you could hardly sing along, voice coming out shaky and breathless. 

The late spring air was cool against your heated skin, but you hardly noticed it, hand swiping at your forehead where perspiration had begun to form. As you sat back down after the anthem, you felt Cecilia’s hand on your arm.

She shot you a reassuring smile, but you could see the wariness in her eyes. She was worried, too. “He’ll be fine,” she said, more so to convince herself.

You nodded. “Yeah, he will be.”

Then the announcer’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “Good evenin’, Amelia County! We’ve got a fantastic lineup for y’all tonight!” He began listing the names of the boys who would be riding in the circuit. “We’re changin’ things up a little with an honorary ride. Want you to give a warm welcome to Rhett Abbott, Wabang native, who used to ride regularly in our rodeos! He’ll be closin’ out the circuit for us tonight with a final ride. So sit back, relax, and get ready to cheer on our riders! Let the fun begin!”

His choice of words was amusing. Watching bull riding was the least relaxing thing out there.

“We have to wait for everyone to go before we can even see him ride?” Amy complained.

You were inclined to agree with her dismay. Your anxiety was only going to increase as time passed. You knew you wouldn’t be able to focus on any other riders because you would be too busy thinking about him.

With each contestant that was called up, your anticipation mounted. You tuned out the rest of the crowd. All the voices, all the sounds, the reverberation of the loudspeakers. None of it mattered. 

You used to be behind those gates, when you were working in the first aid tent. You’d witnessed Rhett’s pre-ride jitters more times than you could count. He would often seek you out for comfort. He loved when you’d come up to him and wrap your arms around his middle, resting your head against his back. It would always ground him. 

He didn’t have that now. He was behind those gates by himself. Part of you wished you were back there with him, but you quickly pushed that thought aside. He was a grown man, he could handle it alone. 

You instead tried your best to focus on each rider, attempting to enjoy the rodeo. 

Subconsciously, you were counting down the minutes until Rhett’s ride. 

Much to your relief, it all went by quickly, and before you even realized it, it was time for him to come out. Beside you, Amy jumped to her feet and held up her sign, hoping to get his attention as he climbed into the chute. You leaned forward in your seat, and at that very moment, he lifted his head, and locked eyes with you.

You gave him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over your heart. He nodded, and then bowed his head. Sitting atop a creature teeming with virile energy sent his pulse pounding in his ears.

He was surrounded by handlers, all making sure he was securely in place. Some of these guys he’d known his entire life. A few had even worked alongside him when he was still riding regularly. 

“Y’ready, son?” One of them asked. Jason McGowan.

Rhett let out a breath, shifting his gaze straight ahead. His gloved hand was wrapped securely in the rope beneath him, keeping him in place. The animal he was seated upon shifted, snorting loudly, growing antsy and impatient.

“As I’ll ever be,” Rhett murmured. His chest felt tight. His thighs were trembling. Was he even strong enough to hold on for this? Could he really do it?

He counted down in his head. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Then he nodded, and in a split second, the chute burst open, and he was lurching forward as the bull jumped out into the ring. The beast writhed and roared beneath him, bucking furiously, tossing him about like a rag doll.

In the stands, you shot to your feet, holding your breath as you stared at Rhett. Come on, come on, come on. He held on for dear life, free arm in the air. The clock was ticking, but you never dared to glance at it. You would not take your eyes off of him. 

Cecilia grabbed your arm again. You held tightly to her, both of you watching your boy, silently praying for him to succeed.

Just a little longer. You can do it. 

And then he let go. His body sailed through the air, and he hit the dirt, but he kept running, stumbling away from the raging animal as a pair of rodeo clowns directed the bull’s attention elsewhere. 

Rhett straightened, shoulders squared as his eyes flickered up to the large screen to see his time. His name soared to the top of the scoreboard. 

He had the best time of the night.

Around him, the crowd went wild. But he didn’t care about any of them. Frantically, he searched for you, electric blue filled with pride and shock all at once. He finally saw you, cheering for him at the top of your lungs, screaming his name from the stands. He swore he could hear you. Over everyone, there was your voice, praising him, calling for him.

His cheeks were wet, and he realized there were tears pouring down his face.

But he was grinning, teeth flashing white, beaming in the golden light cast upon him. 

I did it. I fuckin’ did it.

He wasn’t sure when his legs started moving, but before he knew it, he was running, boots kicking up sand as he threw himself over the barricade separating the stands from the ring. He took the steps two at a time, making a beeline for you.

Your beautiful face was full of adoration, and the moment you saw him coming at you, you pushed your way through the crowd, nearly tripping over your own feet as you rushed to meet him. You heard whistles and cheers around you, friends and strangers alike urging you both on.

As soon as you reached each other, he was throwing his arms around your waist, crushing you to him. You laughed musically, despite the tears that were running from your eyes. You held him tightly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head.

“I did it,” he whispered in your ear. Then he laughed. “I did it, honeybee!”

You pulled back to gaze into his beautiful face. Honeybee. Oh, how you’d missed that nickname. “You did, Rhett,” you echoed. “I’m so proud of you.”

He lingered, shining eyes locked with your own. The surrounding activity faded into the background, and it felt as if you were the only two people in the entire world. You were suddenly very aware of the warmth of his body against yours. The feeling of his chest heaving in time with his breaths. The beating of his heart. If only for a moment, you were transported back to a time when you were so in love. 

It hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs in one fell swoop.

Oh my god, I’m still in love with him. 

You let go of him as if you’d been stung, and before he could react, he was flooded with congratulatory hugs and pats on the back. You faded into the background and watched him receive showers of attention. But you were reeling, trying to process the emotions swirling through you, much like the tornadoes you used to chase. 

What were you going to do with this knowledge? You supposed it had always been there. From the moment you saw him when you returned to Wabang, the feelings that had been dormant for six years were brought back to the surface. 

You were supposed to have moved on. But the truth was, you never had. 

You couldn’t do anything about it. It felt like the worst possible time to realize you loved him. You had a job and a life back in Maryland. You couldn’t make a relationship work with him, even if you wanted to. 

It was no surprise that you found yourself in the parking lot, wanting to be away from the crowd. Wanting space. If you’d driven yourself to the rodeo, you would already be leaving. But you were dependent on other people to get you back to the Abbott's. And you certainly weren’t about to walk back by yourself. 

Instead, you found yourself leaning against Royal’s truck, your mind moving a million miles a minute. Why couldn’t you just move on? You’d had plenty of time to do so. What was it about Rhett that rendered you unable to let him go? 

He was your first love. Your only love. You had tried dating other people, but nothing had worked out. You always chalked it up to you having high standards, but you realized that perhaps all this time, it had never worked with other people because you were still in love with Rhett. 

What a predicament to be in. 

You were still reeling slightly by the time the rodeo was over. It wasn’t long until you heard the sound of familiar voices. Amy’s voice rang out over the parking lot as she praised her uncle. 

“You were so awesome! I knew you would be! You looked so cool on top of that bull!” She rambled on. 

Rhett was grinning, face flushed, as he tugged Amy into his side for a hug. “Thank y’, Ames,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

“The kid’s right, you knocked it outta the park, man,” you heard Danny say as he clapped Rhett on the back. Everyone else chimed in with their own two cents. 

You pushed yourself off of the truck and came into the light, integrating yourself back into the group. You wondered if any of them had noticed your absence.

“I think we should go out for ice cream to celebrate,” Finn suggested, at which Amy turned to her grandmother with wide, pleading eyes.

“Please, Gramma, can we?!” She begged, folding her hands beneath her chin.

Cecilia relented, a smile on her face as she leaned over and patted Rhett’s back. “Since it’s not a school night, why not?”

As Amy clapped in excitement, Rhett lifted his head, and he caught you looking at him. You held his gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he opened his mouth, as if to say something, but his attention was pulled away again by the sudden weight of Royal’s hand on his back.

A wordless “I’m proud of you, son.”

Rhett didn’t get to speak to you until after you’d all settled in at Marigold’s Ice Cream Parlor. After everyone had ordered their respective ice creams and milkshakes, and you stood nearby with two scoops of chocolate in a small cup, he approached you.

He had a cone of rocky road, his all-time favorite ice cream flavor. “Hey there,” he murmured, speaking lowly. He’d taken his hat off and left it in the truck, and he now sported a head of hat hair. 

“Hi,” you answered. You suddenly felt like a pair of shy teenagers.

“Are y’alright?”

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” You didn’t mean to sound defensive, but that was how it came out.

Rhett shrugged, licking at his ice cream. “I dunno, you ran off after my ride. You looked kinda panicked. Just thought I’d check on ya and make sure you were alright.”

Should you tell him? Would it be foolish to do so? “Well, I…”

“Hey Rhett, c’mere!” Jeslyn’s voice suddenly sounded across the parlor, cutting you off, and he glanced over. She was waving at him, encouraging him to hurry.

“One sec!” He responded before he turned back to you, expectant.

“Sorry…sorry, yeah, I’m totally fine. The crowd was just a lot.”

You could tell he didn’t quite believe you. “Okay. Just, uh, just wanted to make sure.” He offered an endearing smile, and your heart clenched in your chest. “Anyway, you wan’ come join us?”

You nodded and followed him to the table where everyone was seated. You found yourself sitting between him and Danny, and if only for a little while, you pushed aside all the stressors and uncertainties and allowed yourself to melt into the lighthearted atmosphere created around that table in the little family-owned ice cream parlor.

You found yourself laughing along with Rhett’s family and friends, listening to stories and anecdotes, sitting through Amy’s dramatic retelling of an anime she’d watched. You realized that you felt like you belonged here. As if this was where you were always meant to be. Your story was supposed to intersect with the stories of those around you.

Your life was always supposed to intersect with Rhett’s.

No matter where you went, or how far you ran, he would always be part of you. He was ingrained in your bones. In the very cell makeup of your being. The red string of fate tied you together for all eternity. 

It was time you accepted that, and stopped trying to escape it.

So you chose not to fight it anymore. You let yourself care about him. Let yourself love him. And perhaps somewhere along the way, you would find it in yourself to tell him how you felt.

For now, you relished in the peace you felt with these people. And as you followed Royal, Cecilia, and Amy back out to the truck after your ice cream was long finished, you felt at ease for the first time in…well, as long as you could remember. 

Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

That night, you found yourself in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of herbal tea to help relax your body, which was tense and sore from the events of the last several days. As you idly dipped the chamomile sachet in the mug full of hot water, you were alerted to the sound of the front door opening.

You turned to find Rhett stepping into the house. He’d come home around the same time you had, but he’d remained outside for a while, tinkering in the barn with the nitrogen trailer. It was completely repaired, and he was eager to get it back on the road for another chase soon.

As he toed his boots off quietly, he was made aware of your presence, and he offered you a sleepy smile. “Hey. Didn’t know anyone was still awake,” he murmured, socked feet padding against the floor as he walked into the kitchen.

“I couldn’t really sleep,” you replied, “figured I’d make some tea. Want some?”

He shook his head as he opened the fridge, leaning down to glance at its contents. “Naw. Ain’t a tea guy, remember?”

You couldn’t help but smile. Of course you remembered. The only tea he liked was sweet iced tea. Instead, he pulled a jug of milk from the fridge and poured himself a glass. You longed to occupy the silence, so you spoke.

“You were great tonight.”

He took a swig of milk and then gazed into his glass, swirling it in his hand. Then he looked at you, bashful smile on his face. “Thanks.”

“Think you’ll do it again?”

At that, he scoffed. “Hell no. I loved it, I gotta admit. But my arms and legs are so fuckin’ sore right now. I’m too old for it. My days of bull wranglin’ are over, that’s for damn sure.” He downed the rest of his milk before he set the glass in the sink. While he gazed out the window into the night, he continued. “Storm chasin’ is my calling now.”

You hummed softly, eyes falling to a random spot on the floor. You toed it with your slipper-clad foot. “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

He turned to face you. “It wasn’t. But I’m glad I did it. Showed me I can face m’ fears and still come out stronger on the other side.”

“Yeah,” you quietly agreed. His words struck something in you. A strange ache in your chest. A yearning for something. 

He pushed away from the sink, how forehead crinkling as he raised his brows. “Welp, I’m gon’ jump in the shower and head to bed. See ya in the mornin’, girl.”

Before he could leave, you called out to him. “Rhett?”

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, the orange glow of the counter lamp casting shadows over his handsome face. “Yeah?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you considered what you were about to say. “At the rodeo, after your ride, you, um, you called me honeybee.”

He hesitated, his body language stiffening slightly. “Oh, I did?” He brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Didn’t realize it.”

If the light had been brighter, you might’ve seen the tips of his ears turn pink. 

“What I’m trying to say is, I…I liked it.”

His sheepishness gave way into a small, crooked smile. “In that case, I meant t’say it then.” 

You couldn’t hide your own smile. “Reminds me of…” You trailed off. 

“Before. I know,” he agreed. 

You took a step forward. The words were on the tip of your tongue. The realization you’d come to when he held you in his arms after his ride. You could confess it to him. Tell him everything. 

“Uncle Rhett?” Suddenly, the small, tired voice of Amy cut through the tension in the air. 

The spell was broken. Rhett turned, seeking out the source of the voice. “What’s wrong, Ames?” He asked, moving to her aid. 

“I just need a glass of water.”

He stepped toward the staircase and held his hand out to her. “C’mon. Let’s get ya some water.”

He guided the girl into the kitchen, and you took that as your opportunity to sneak out while he tended to her. When he turned to look for you, you were gone. 

With your tea in hand, you crept up the stairs, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid as you went. When you made it to Rhett’s room, you set the cup down on the dresser and hurried to shut the door behind you. 

Letting out a breath, you closed your eyes. You had almost admitted everything to him right there in the middle of his kitchen. Part of you was glad for Amy’s interruption, while the other part was upset.

You knew your feelings would come out into the open sooner or later. 

But you also had some other things to consider now. More than just rekindling feelings for your first love. 

What Rhett said had struck you. Face your fears and come out stronger on the other side. 

You still had a deal to carry out, after all. If he could face years of trauma and fear and live to tell the tale, so could you.

You made your decision. You knew exactly what you needed to do. It was time to stop running from the danger, and instead, run toward it.

The next morning, you woke to the sun streaming in through the window. It was Sunday morning, which meant Cecilia would be rushing about, getting ready for church. You allowed yourself a few moments in bed, staring up at the ceiling, before you finally swung your legs over the edge and stretched.

You quickly readied yourself for the day, throwing on some clean clothes before you padded across the hall to brush your teeth. You could hear activity happening downstairs, and the smell of breakfast cooking reached your nose. 

Eager to join everyone, you finished your routine and then scurried down the squeaky old steps. In the kitchen, you found Rhett, Royal, and Amy all around the table as Cecilia flitted about the kitchen, finishing breakfast preparations.

Rhett saw you first, and his face broke into a smile, eyes glimmering in the golden sunlight that streamed in through the window over the sink. “G’mornin’,” he greeted.

Amy’s head popped up, and she grinned at the sight of you. “Oh, good! You’re up!” She exclaimed, rushing over to take your hand and usher you to the table. You giggled at her eagerness, and you didn’t miss the fact that she guided you to sit in the open chair next to Rhett.

“Mornin’, hon,” Cecilia called out as she stepped over to the table with a skillet full of bacon. “Get yourself a plate and have some breakfast! Was rushin’ this mornin’ so I forgot to set one out for you, I’m sorry.”

“I got it,” Rhett volunteered before you could even stand. He rose from his seat and retrieved a plate from the dishware cabinet.

“Thank you,” you told him, taking the plate from his outstretched hand and nodding to show your gratitude. His eyes lingered on your own before he took his seat beside you again.

“Are you guys in love?” Amy blurted from across the table. 

Rhett nearly choked on the sip of coffee he’d just taken. You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. Cecilia made a chastising sound, tapping her granddaughter’s shoulder in disapproval at the question. But you could see that even she was barely hiding a smile. Luckily for Royal, who was beside you, he could hide his own smile behind his coffee mug.

“What makes you ask that?” Was what you finally settled on as your reply, trying to sound nonchalant. You grabbed a biscuit from the bowl in the middle of the table, busying yourself with pulling the bread apart to be buttered.

“Gramma says you are.”

“Amy.”

“What?! You did say that.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you should repeat it,” Cecilia scolded.

The girl huffed, shaking her head as she poked her fork at her scrambled eggs. “I just wanted to know.”

“Leave ‘em be, Amy,” Royal said, despite the amusement still on his features. He glanced at you. Even he knew the answer to the question Amy had asked. Thankfully, he’d saved you or Rhett the embarrassment of answering. You knew what you would have said, but were you ready to admit it out loud? Was Rhett?

Aside from the slightly awkward question from Amy, breakfast carried on without a hitch, but you were distracted, so many things heavy on your mind. Everything was about to change, you could feel it. Building in the distance, like an impending storm.

You volunteered to do the dishes to allow the rest of the family, sans Rhett, to get to church on time. Cecilia expressed her gratitude as she rushed Amy out the door, and soon, you were all alone in the house with Rhett.

“Y’alright? Got kinda quiet at breakfast,” he murmured as he helped you clear the table. 

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him.

You stood there together at the kitchen sink, staring into each other’s faces.

“You sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

He leaned in closer. “Because if Amy’s question bothered you…”

He was so close you could smell his cologne. The proximity took your breath away. “Oh, um, it…it didn’t.”

“Good.” Did his gaze just flicker to your lips?

“Yeah. Good.”

He’d definitely looked at your lips. You caught him that time. A look of longing swirled in the deep blue, and you suddenly felt as if you were drowning, swallowed up in an ocean. Your chest went tight. You could barely breathe, and yet, you’d never felt more alive. 

“What would you ‘ve told her, if you answered her question?” He inquired.

I would tell her that I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I never will. 

“I…” 

You lost your train of thought, dizzy at his proximity, at his smell, at the sound of his hitched breaths. It was as if an invisible force was between you, pulling you toward each other. Your mouth parted, but no words came out. 

He was going to kiss you, and you were going to let him.

And then, as if the universe was playing a terribly cruel joke on you both, the sound of pounding on the door made you both jump apart as if you’d been struck by lightning. Your hand flew to your chest, pressed over your racing heart as a shock of fright sizzled through you.

“Jesus,” Rhett grumbled under his breath as he whirled around, crossing the floor in a few big strides before he threw open the front door, only to reveal Danny on the other side of the door.

“Didn’t you get my text?!” Danny asked, chest heaving. 

“What? No! I ain’t even looked at my phone since this mornin’!” Rhett answered, breathless.

“Nasty storm’s rolling in! Up in Coal County!”

“Shit, gimme one sec, I’ll meet you guys outside!” He turned on his heel and rushed to grab his phone from the living room, where it was charging. Then he retrieved his hat from the peg near the door.

You watched him scramble, preparing to meet another storm head-on, and you knew, it was now or never. Before you even registered what you were doing, your feet were carrying you forward, out of the kitchen, right to the door.

“Rhett,” you heard yourself call out his name.

He stopped in the doorway, turning to look at you, one foot on the floor, the other on the porch. “Yeah?”

You squared your shoulders and spoke more confidently than you ever had in your life. “I’m coming with you.”

A silent understanding passed between you both. He nodded his head, and simply replied, “Let’s go.”

-

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[silverynight]

Welcome home

<---Previous

Chapter 5

They decide to go to a cafe; the place is nice and cozy, and Izuku will have the opportunity to ask questions to every single one in order to get all the details about the mission; he wants to know how they used their quirks and why they decided to use them that way.

The tables have bench cushions around; Katsuki and Izuku sit on one and Uraraka, Hagakure and Todoroki on the one in front.

Even though he tells himself to calm down, Izuku can't help it and starts asking about the rescue. He listens with a fascinated smile on his face as Hagakure explains how she used her quirk to blind the villain when he tried to attack them.

Then he starts rambling about her quirk for a while, all the data he has gathered about her during the time they have met each other, she seems interested or at least he hopes so. He's too focused he doesn't even realize Uraraka is looking at something with amusement until she makes a gesture with her hand towards it.

Izuku turns around, only to find Katsuki with a hand on his chin, quietly staring at him with a fond smile on his face.

"What?"

Katsuki looks a little bit flustered when he notices Izuku's confusion, but he doesn't say anything.

"Midoriya, do you want something to eat?"

"Right!" He says, embarrassed. He looks back at Todoroki as his cheeks turn slightly pink. "Sorry for rambling! You must be hungry!"

"It's alright, I don't mind," the pro hero with mismatched hair assures him. "Actually, everything you say is fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot about quirks after listening to you."

Izuku can feel the moment his face turns even more red; Katsuki hisses next to him. When he looks at him again, he realizes he's get irritated. He must be starving too.

"What do you want to eat? I'll get it for you."

"Uhh..." Before Izuku can answer Todoroki's question, Katsuki is already getting up while glaring at the other pro hero.

"Don't bother. I always get Izuku's food."

"Well, I want a strawberry churro and Uraraka wants a croissant. Thanks for asking! Yes, we both are here too, in case you have forgotten!" Hagakure cuts in, half irritated half amused at the situation.

"Sorry! I'll go get them for you!" Izuku says.

"Not you, darling! Sit down!"

However, no matter how much Uraraka insists, Izuku ends up in the line with Katsuki and Todoroki.

"Midoriya."

Katsuki growls as a warning, but Todoroki ignores him completely.

"I'd like you to consider working at Endeavor's agency instead."

That definitely wasn't something Izuku expected to come out of Todoroki's mouth.

"I was really impressed by your performance these last two days; you're really smart and I think you'd be a great asset for our agency."

"Oh, fuck off!"

"Kacchan, please," Izuku has to grab the blond pro hero's arm in order to calm him down a bit. Then, when his friend looks less murderous, he turns towards Todoroki again: "I appreciate the offer, but I'm really happy where I am."

"Take that, half and half!"

Rolling his eyes, Izuku is glad they're next in the line. It's a nice distraction. Perhaps food is what everyone needs to feel less irritated.

"What happened?" Uraraka asks, grabbing her croissant and the coffee Izuku decided to buy for her. "I was watching you from here and Bakugo got more grumpy than usual."

"Half and half here wants to steal Izuku from m–us!"

"What do you mean?" Hagakure asks, sounding curious already. By the time Todoroki explains, even the women get slightly annoyed.

"No!" Uraraka huffs, grabbing one of Izuku's hands in hers. "Get your own green bean! This one is ours!"

They keep playfully scolding him for it and even he starts smiling at them. However, Katsuki moves closer to Izuku until their legs are pressing together even though there's plenty of space on his side.

After a while, the four pro heroes start talking about their time in the UA; Izuku can't help but laugh at all the things they tell him about Katsuki.

"They had to put a muzzle on him because he was so angry at Todoroki for not trying harder at the sports festival!" Hagakure chuckles, while Katsuki narrows his eyes at her.

"He even won, but didn't look happy with the results!" Uraraka adds, laughing along with Hagakure.

"He probably thought he didn't deserve it," Izuku cuts in. "That's why he was so mad."

He looks up at the blond pro hero before stroking his cheek; Katsuki closes his eyes and leans into the touch, content.

"It's alright, Kacchan. You did your best!"

"I didn't," Todoroki says then, getting Izuku's attention again. "But that's because I didn't truly accept myself back then."

"But now you do, right?" Izuku asks, smiling kindly at him.

"Now I do."

***

As they sit back in Katsuki's car, Izuku realizes that he's still frowning. Probably because Todoroki asked Izuku to think about his offer.

"I'm not going to work at Endeavor's," Izuku assures him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He relaxes somewhat before looking back at the green haired man with an intense expression on his face; Katsuki does that a lot lately and he has no idea what he's thinking about.

"Stay with me tonight."

"Okay, Kacchan," he says, smiling at him softly. The truth is that he still wants to spend a little bit more time with his friend after what happened.

But staying is a mistake because Izuku likes Katsuki's apartment; it feels like home even though it shouldn't.

The next days he barely stays at his own place and every time he goes back to it, it feels colder and less like the cozy apartment he once acquired.

Katsuki basically gives him one of the guest's rooms; he has a closet for himself in which he keeps a few clothes because he also stays during work days and it's more "convenient" that way.

Somedays, Izuku feels like he's fooling himself.

There's green tea now in Katsuki's kitchen, chocolate, and blueberries on the fridge that Izuku makes disappear quickly.

"You seriously don't want the last bit of honey?" Izuku asks, looking tempted to pour it all over his bread, but he wants to offer it to Katsuki first. He doesn't think he has ever seen him touch the bottle, but he's not there ALL the time.

"I don't like sweet food," Katsuki says from the couch, browsing through Netflix's catalog, looking for a good horror movie.

"But you do like honey!" Izuku argues. "I mean, you bought this..."

That bottle was there before Izuku started staying in that apartment a few times a week.

"I bought it for you," the pro hero says casually, already selecting a movie. The thumbnail looks like it'll give Izuku nightmares.

He looks back at the now empty bottle, feeling warm inside out of the sudden. He smiles, thinking about all the things Katsuki does for him...

"Well, I'll go back to my room now!"

"None of that, nerd!" Katsuki turns around, looking at him over the back of the couch. "You promised!"

"Fine!" Izuku pouts, getting ready to close his eyes. "But if you complain about me clinging to you, I'll leave, okay?"

Being as close as possible to Katsuki is the only thing that makes him feel safe when they watch those kind of movies.

Katsuki snorts.

"Have I ever complained about that?"

"No, but just in case," Izuku mumbles before sitting right next to him, even though there's a lot of space on the couch. "I don't know why you want me here, to be honest. All I do is cover my eyes, gasp and wrap myself around you every time. Sometimes, I even end up on your lap! That can't be pleasant for you!"

Katsuki's smirk makes his eyes glimmer with amusement.

"That is actually very pleasant for me. You have no idea."

It must be because he enjoys Izuku's suffering... his friend is still a jerk sometimes. But he buys a lot of sweets for him and lets Izuku cuddle him so he'll forgive him for that eventually.

To no one's surprise, Izuku ends up covering his eyes and Katsuki's space.

The pro hero looks like he's having the time of his life, but he's kind enough to put a hand over Izuku's shoulders and nuzzle against his green curls to calm him down.

He falls asleep like that but wakes up on his bed in the morning.

***

"Trying a new style?" One of his coworkers asks as a form of greeting. "Well, you look good with everything, Midoriya!"

"Isn't that too big for you though?" Another one says, frowning a bit.

Some days, he wishes he didn't blush that easily; it makes him look like he's hiding something.

"Kacchan gave it to me," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It's not his fault that Katsuki's clothes are very comfortable; it's true that wearing black is not Izuku's style, but he likes the fact that the hoodie feels like it's hugging him.

He's not sure if that's completely true, though, because most of the time is just Izuku "stealing" things from him that the pro hero ends up giving him.

"I see," the man in front of him grins in a way Izuku doesn't like. There's nothing to "see" there.

He runs back to his station then.

An hour later, he decides to pay a visit to Hatsume. He wants to ask about Kaminari's gear; something happened during his latest mission and it ended up damaged, but Izuku doesn't understand what prompted it to act the way it did. And he needs to understand in order to write a report about it.

But he's also very curious.

Right outside Hatsume's department, Izuku remembers why other people are not allowed there unless they let them know they're coming beforehand.

Izuku forgot to do that.

"Not again!" He manages to hear someone complaining before Hatsume laughs.

"It's alright! We always learn from our mistakes," she says right before something inside explodes and sends Izuku backwards.

There's smoke everywhere; his ears start ringing a bit, but he realizes he's alright, although his back hurts.

"Are you okay, Midoriya?" Hatsume asks, leaning over him. "You shouldn't be here."

He gets that now. At least the people from support are completely fine, mostly because they wear special clothes all the time. In case something like that happens.

"Are you sure you're fine?"

"Yes, don't worry!"

"Alright, then let me turn off the alarm in your device before he comes running here..."

Honestly, Izuku had forgotten his pretty necklace was a security device. But now as he looks down he sees a red dot in the middle of the X.

"IZUKU!"

"Too late," Hatsume mumbles, right before turning it off. She moves away from Izuku to give room for Dynamight to fret over him.

"I'm fine, Kacchan, I promise," he assures him as he manages to sit.

Katsuki kneels on the floor next to him and Izuku notices his hero suit; it looks clean and impeccable, which means he was about to go out.

His red eyes start scanning his body from head to toe, desperately looking for wounds.

"Where does it hurt?" He asks, touching Izuku's back of the head with his fingertips. When the green haired man flinches, the pro hero's eyes lose their shine. "I'll take you to the infirmary."

"Kacchan, wait!"

Katsuki growls. He's obviously still in distress, and Izuku can't have that. Pretending no one is watching, he cradles his friend's face and rubs their noses together.

The fear he notices in his eyes shocks Izuku for a moment.

"I'm fine, Kacchan," he whispers, smiling softly at him. "I promise."

He watches as the blond's broad shoulders lose some of their tension. His arms wrap around Izuku's completely before he presses his lips against one of his freckled cheeks gently. After he takes a deep breath, he does the same against the other.

Izuku's heart skips a beat.

"Alright! Let's go back to work, everybody!" Hatsume says, clapping her hands together to get her workers' attention. "There's nothing to see here!"

As the smoke clears, Izuku turns as red as a strawberry.

Katsuki doesn't seem to care about having an audience or not.

"When I heard the alarm, I panicked," he admits, pointing at a bracelet on his right wrist. Izuku had thought all this time it was a simple accessory.

"I'm fine," he repeats, mostly because his own heartbeat doesn't let him think that much.

Katsuki leans to give him a kiss on the forehead, making even more difficult for Izuku to actually focus.

"Let me take you to the infirmary anyway. Please, it'll help me feel better."

"Okay, Kacchan."

As the doctor explains to them both that Izuku doesn't have a concussion and the incident only got him a few bruises, he realizes, as he remembers Katsuki's soft kisses on his face that me might have feelings for his best friend.

And that could be a problem.

***

Perhaps the best thing is to stop staying with Katsuki; Izuku's feelings will only grow if he keeps spending that much time with his friend.

It's a good thing he never moved in with him like Katsuki wanted. He'd be kicked out immediately if the pro hero found out about Izuku's crush on him.

Except that it doesn't feel like a simple crush.

As they both walk down the stairs, Izuku takes a deep breath and thinks about an excuse to stay at his own apartment this time.

"Here, take this, nerd," Katsuki stops for a moment to give him a key. "This is just in case you need it, but you know you only have to type the code to get in."

A copy of Katsuki's apartment door key. And he's going to give him the code too.

"It's 0715," the pro hero says in a whisper. His face turns so red Izuku worries about him for a moment. "So when... I'm on late night patrol you can get in without me and stay there."

"Oh, that'll be easy to remember!" He says, chuckling. His friend probably hasn't even realized what those numbers mean. "It's like my birthday! What a coincidence!"

Katsuki chokes on air, blush spreading down his neck. Maybe he's getting sick or something...

"I know you are really smart, but sometimes you make me question your intelligence."

"Kacchan, that's so mean!" Izuku tries to look offended, but he fails miserably. Besides, his mind is preoccupied with something else.

When they're inside Katsuki's car. Izuku takes a deep breath.

"Take me to my apartment, please."

"Why? Did you forget something?"

"No... it's just," he bites his bottom lip before continuing: "I mean... I live there after all, I should stay in my own apartment."

"Or you can finally move in with me."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

Katsuki turns his head towards him; good thing he hasn't started the car yet.

"Why not? Does something in my apartment bother you? We can redecorate it if you want. I just bought you a display cabinet to put your ridiculous All Might figure collection. It was a surprise, by the way. So pretend to be surprised when it finally arrives."

Katsuki is making it really difficult for Izuku not to fall in love with him.

"Uhh... it's..." Izuku blinks as his eyes start getting wet.

"What is it, Izuku? Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything," he says; he's never heard him speak that softly to him. His thumbs wipe his tears off before he presses his forehead against the sweet nerd's.

Katsuki deserves to know so he can decide for himself if he wants to keep some distance between them from now on.

It'll break Izuku's heart, but he can handle it.

"Listen, Kacchan, don't freak out, but I think I have f-feelings for you. So it'll be better if we–"

"Wow," Katsuki chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really are an idiot, Izuku."

"This is not funny, Kacchan! I'm trying to tell you something important!"

"So am I!" He smiles, red eyes glimmering with unrestrained happiness. He cradles Izuku's confused face, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Izuku. I am in love with you."

"What?" He blinks, getting slightly dizzy as Katsuki keeps pressing their lips together. Kisses pressed against his face as he turns so pink his freckles disappear momentarily.

"I have never been subtle about my devotion to you," Katsuki smirks, enjoying the fact that Izuku gets so flustered after being kissed to speak properly. "That's why everyone in the agency thinks we're dating. Yes, I know about those rumors too, the only difference is that I have never shut them down."

"But why you never told me anything?"

Katsuki's smile vanishes for a moment and Izuku wants to take the question back immediately.

"I thought you didn't love me the way I did."

This time it's Izuku the one who initiates their kiss, although Katsuki is the one in control. He smiles against his lips before taking his time to explore Izuku's mouth.

"Move in with me, Izuku."

"I'd love to, Kacchan."

***

A lot of things have changed in a month; Izuku finally left his old apartment and is now living with Katsuki.

And sleeping on his bed too.

Waving a hand in front of his face to stop himself from blushing, Izuku focuses on the task at hand.

He has practiced that curry recipe a lot, torturing his friends in the process, although Todoroki claims that the first time was perfect.

Uraraka couldn't even finish it, Kirishima gave him a thumbs up, but didn't look like he was enjoying it.

However, the last one was a success, which means he's ready to make it for his boyfriend.

He wants to surprise Katsuki this time; he's the one who cooks for them and he knows he does it gladly, but Izuku wants to show him he can make an effort too.

A loud sigh escapes from his lips when he finishes just in time for the door to open.

"I'm home, Izuku!"

He rushes towards the entrance because that's one of his favorite parts of living with Katsuki, that he gets to greet him in his own home.

In their own home, and wants to do that for the rest of their lives.

The realization hits him by surprise, and both Izuku and Katsuki just stand there, frozen, staring into each other's eyes like they know exactly what they're both thinking.

"You look cute with that apron," Katsuki breathes deeply, as if he had forgotten how to and pulls Izuku into a tight hug. "Is it too soon to ask you to marry me?"

"It's us," he whispers back, trying not to cry. "We have never been a conventional couple to begin with. It's fine."

"Is that a yes?"

"It is."

After a long kiss, Izuku pushes his boyfriend away a bit, chuckling when Katsuki chases his lips desperately and pouts when he keeps turning his head away.

"Come on, nerd! Just one more!"

"Wait, I need to tell you something first."

"What is it?"

"Welcome home, Kacchan!"

Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the glimmer in them and the wide smile on his lips tell Izuku that he's just as happy to hear that as Izuku is to say it.

***

Thank you so much for reading this story!

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[cosmicdahlias]

Low Honor, Lower Morals

an arthur morgan x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: noncon, mild age gap (reader is in their 20’s), threatening you with a gun, stalking mention, kidnapping, corruption, unwillingly enjoying it, biting, forced orgasm, slapping, cumming in your mouth, drugging, taking your virginity, bondage, impreg, alt ending w/ stockholm syndrome

okay this is a short break from my usual ford pines fics. rdr2 has been all over my tiktok fyp and it’s reignited my hoe tendencies for arthur, i love me that cowboy. i’ve always headcanoned that low honor arthur is a sick sadistic fuck who doesn’t take no for an answer, especially when it’s a pretty damsel he just saved. i mean a hero deserves his reward after all. i couldn’t decide which ending i liked more so i included both, idk i always loved the idea of the rough abuser turning sweet at the end ghxbwhxbdh

You were cornered by a gang of thugs. They had been catcalling you as you walked home on the streets of Saint Denis. You tried to run, but they pounced on you before you had the chance, dragging you into a dark alley. You didn’t know if they were there to mug you… or worse.

The leader of the group brandished a gun and held it under your chin.

“P-please, just take my money, I won’t tell anyone.” You said, tears streaming down your face.

“Oh we want something even better than money.” The leader grinned darkly.

You shut your eyes tightly, praying it would be over soon and your life would be spared, when you heard the click of boots and the cocking of a revolver. You expected to be shot at any moment, instead hearing a voice that didn’t match any of your captors.

“Step away from the kid or pay with your life.”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to the source of the voice and saw the outline of a man illuminated by the street lamps. Mercy, you were saved.

The leader scoffed, turning his gun to the mystery man. “Oh yeah? And what’re you gonna do about it? It’s 4 against one, pal. Step closer and see what happens when you-“

Before he could finish his sentence the stranger shot him dead. He collapsed on the ground with a sickening thud. You barely had a chance to take in a breath or blink before he quickly dispatched of the other three.

You stood there, shaking like a leaf. The stranger approached you. He was tall and as he stepped closer and you could make out his facial features, he was quite attractive.

“Thank you Mr.-“

“Morgan.” He said in his deep rural accent.

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. For a second there I wasn’t sure what was going to happen to me. How can I ever repay you? I have money, not much, but hopefully enough to-“

“Oh I don’t need money, but there’s somethin’ else you can do for me.” He chuckled, pulling you in by the waist.

You blushed. “Well how could I say no to the man who saved me?”

You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, the whiskers of his beard tickling your lips. He tasted of whiskey and cigarettes.

You stepped back and he looked down at you, like he was waiting for something. When the realization of that “something” hit you your face turned an even deeper scarlet.

“Oh, umm I’m flattered, Mr. Morgan, truly. You’re very handsome, but… I’m saving myself for marriage.”

He chuckled again. “Well sweetheart the thing about me is-“ he pulled out his revolver. “I don’t take “no” for an answer.”

You felt your stomach drop.

“B- but, I thought-“

He gave a sinister laugh. “You thought what? That I’m some kinda honorable man? I’m an outlaw, I take what I want. You think I just happened to find you like that? No, I saw you days ago, followed you everywhere, waitin’ for the perfect opportunity, hell I even know where you live. You kept your door locked and I almost gave up, but then tonight you were stupid enough to hit the town by yourself with no man to accompany you. Honestly this is for your own good, I’m teachin’ you a lesson.”

You were horrified, your savior had become your assailant.

“Now, listen to me closely. I got a room nearby, we’re going to make our way there and if you so much as try to run or even scream, I’ll kill you where you stand. You got that?”

You nodded, tears forming again. The both of you began walking, his gun pressed against your back the whole way. You opened the doors to the saloon, hoping, praying that someone would see what was happening and intervene. But you were greeted with apathetic patrons who didn’t even so much as look your way. No one was coming to save you.

“You squeal to any of these folks and you’re as good as dead.” He whispered as you ascended the staircase.

You reached his room and he unlocked the door. He shut it behind you and pushed you up against it. You tried to free yourself from his grasp.

“Fight me all you want, I love when my prey don’t go down easy.” He growled menacingly in your ear.

He kissed you aggressively, hands unceremoniously pulling off your clothes. You didn’t struggle, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He looked down at your exposed body.

“Shoot, I see why those men wanted you so bad. You could pose for them erotic pictures, make men go wild.”

He picked you up effortlessly and tossed you down onto the bed. He hovered above you before lowering his head between your thighs.

“Now, I might be an outlaw, but I’m still gentleman. Not that you’d know the difference, bein’ a virgin and all. Bet you have no idea what I’m about to even do to you, but I think you’ll like it.”

You had no experience with anything sexual, but Arthur had spent more than enough time with women of the night to know his way around pussy. He took great pleasure in the idea of corrupting you, to bring you down into the dirty, depraved world of an outlaw.

You gasped as his mouth found your clit. You’d never even touched yourself before, the sensation felt incredibly foreign, but so good. You hated it, you hated how good you felt being touched like this against your will. You involuntarily moaned.

“Good, that’s it. See? I told you you’d enjoy this.”

“Mr. Morgan, please sto-“

“Call me Arthur.”

You whimpered as he sucked on your clit.

“Come on, darlin’ say my name. I wanna hear it come out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

You were silent.

He bit down hard on your thigh. “I SAID SAY MY NAME GODDAMMIT!”

“A-Arthur.”

“That’s better, listen to me next time because after this I’m done bein’ nice.”

He slipped two fingers in you, curling them at your g-spot. You cried out in horrified pleasure. His tongue rapidly circled your clit.

“Feels good, don’t it?”

You nodded, afraid of what would happen if you didn’t respond. He quickened his pace and something in you shifted, the pleasure felt overwhelming, as if you were about to explode. Your back arched off the bed, Arthur seized your waist and held you down.

“Already? Damn, I forgot how easy it is to make you virgins cum. That’s it, cum for me. Though I doubt you have any clue what that means, huh?”

His fingers fucked you intensely, tongue lashing at your clit. You shook, your breathing rapid. You were so overwhelmed that you seized a fistful of Arthur’s hair unintentionally. You froze, thinking you would be punished.

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. Enjoying yourself now, aren’t you?”

He growled into your clit, the vibrations pushing you over the edge. You felt yourself unwillingly bucking your hips into his mouth. Shockwaves of pleasure rolled through you, your walls contracted around his fingers. You moaned loudly, screaming every curse word under the sun. Slowly your breathing settled, the indescribable feeling subsiding.

Arthur chuckled darkly. “It’s always the innocent ones like you who get into it, you just don’t know how to enjoy yourself until a real man comes along. Bet you drive the boys ‘round here crazy, turnin’ ‘em down left and right, tryin’a be a good one, all proper like. Sooner or later this was bound to happen to you, you’re just lucky it was a man like me with some dignity to eat your pussy first. But now it’s my turn, you’re gonna suck me off.”

You stared up at him, you had zero idea what he meant.

“Jesus, do I have‘ta do everything myself?”

He grabbed you by the hair, throwing you to the floor, then pulled you up to your knees by your arm. He started undoing his belt, pulling out his cock. Your eyes widened, you’d never seen a man’s length before, only in a stolen glance of an anatomy textbook at the library, but even you knew he was way bigger than average.

“I- I don’t know if it’ll-“

He smirked. “Fit? Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

He seized your hair and forced your mouth onto his cock. You gagged, trying to pull back, but he only shoved himself deeper. Your teeth scraped his shaft.

He slapped you hard across the face. “HEY! Watch the teeth.”

He thrust hard and fast into your mouth, any possible enjoyment you could’ve had was gone. This was torture, you felt like your jaw was going to dislocate. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead.

“You’re takin’ my cock so good, you sure you never done this before?”

He bucked into your mouth furiously, you choked, saliva dripping from your mouth. He was relentless, he didn’t care if you hated it, he was going to use you. This is what you got for turning down his advances.

His breath hitched and his hips stuttered.

“Fuckin’ god, your mouth feels so good.” He moaned breathlessly.

His grip on your hair tightened. All of this was new to you but you had enough sense to know he was close to what you had experienced minutes prior. He attempted to pull out, not wanting to cum yet, but it was too late. He groaned loudly and spilled into your mouth, a bitter, salty taste flooding your tongue. You made a motion to spit, but Arthur clasped a hand over your mouth.

“Ah ah, swallow, all of it.”

You reluctantly let the warm cum go down your throat, you shuddered.

He gathered a drop of cum on his thumb from your chin, putting it in your mouth.

“Look at you, swallowing my cum like a whore.”

You stood up, looking at the door. Arthur pulled small bottle of liquid and a rag out of his satchel, he doused the cloth in the liquid. He stepped towards you.

“Since I came in that pretty mouth we’re gonna have’ta take a break, but this is just in case you think of runnin’.”

You made a motion to run but Arthur seized your wrist, pulling you to him, his chest pressed against your back.

“As if you could outrun me.” He smirked, shoving the rag over your face.

The smell of chemicals hit you as you tried to fight it, but you felt your eyelids grow heavy, falling to the floor.

-

You awoke god knows how much later on the bed, your eyes struggled go focus. All you could see was a figure on top of you. You blinked, Arthur came into focus, he had removed his clothes. He was so close you could smell him, a mixture of leather and wood with a hint of musk.

“Rise n’ shine, princess.” He said, kissing your neck. “I was startin’ to get impatient. I wanted you to be awake for this.”

He grunted as he tried to slip himself inside you.

“Goddam, you’re tight. Try to relax, I promise it’ll feel good.”

He pressed his tip at your entrance, slowly sliding himself in. You winced and clenched around him.

“Eeeeeasy. I know you don’t want it, but it’ll be so much better if you just accept it.”

He tried to ease his way in gently, but couldn’t help himself. He slammed his full length into you. You screamed from the pain, it felt like you were being split open. Arthur shoved his hand over your mouth.

“Quiet down, you tryin’a let everyone know that I’m takin’ your virginity?”

Tears cascaded down your cheeks.

Arthur scoffed. “Now what good is that gonna do you? No one’s here to save you so quit your cryin’.”

You tried fighting the tears, you still broke down and sobbed, you just wanted this to end, if he killed you after he was done you’d welcome it.

He hit you brutally with the back of his hand. “I TOLD YOU TO QUIT CRYIN’!”

Your head snapped to the side, ears ringing. You stared at him in shock, blood trickled from your nose. Your rage boiled. You tried to throw a punch at him, but he caught your fist.

“Looks like you still got a little bit‘a fight left in you.”

He got off you, for a second you thought he was going to reach for his gun, but instead he pulled out a rope. He bound your wrists together with precision above your head. He must’ve done this hundreds of times before. He sunk himself back into you with a loud groan, fucking you violently.

“There. I love feelin’ you struggle, but I can’t risk you takin’ swings at me, princess.”

You spat angrily in his face. “I’m NOT your princess.”

He took your spit in his fingers, licking it. “God, you’re cute when you’re pissed.”

“Fuck you.”

“Aww, don’t be like that sweetheart, you said it yourself, I’m handsome. I know there’s a part’a you that loves this. Here, I know somethin’ that’ll fix your attitude.”

He reached a hand down and stroked your clit, you reflexively tightened around him.

“Good god, you’re squeezin’ my cock to death. I didn’t know pussy could get this tight.”

He leaned down and bit roughly on your neck, you cried out, he then wrapped a hand around your throat, the other still circling your pussy. You gasped, trying to breathe and failing, you struggled at your restraints, trying to push away his hand.

“You poor thing. Can’t breathe can ya? Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you said “no” to me. We could’a made love, but I’m afraid you asked for this. Maybe now you’ll learn to not turn away the man that saved you from bein’ gang raped in an alley and left for dead.”

You had always imagined your first time, being wrapped in a loving embrace in the arms of your new husband on your wedding night, gentle caresses from a caring gentleman who could never hurt you. Yet here you found yourself, being torn apart by a vicious outlaw. He was raw, animalistic, ripping into you like a wolf that hungered for your blood and flesh.

His breathing hitched again, by now you knew well enough to sense what was coming next. He sped up his fingers on your clit, you were close too.

“Fuckin’ shit, that tight little pussy is gonna make me cum. And I ain’t pullin’ out, I don’t give two fucks if I knock you up. But first you’re gonna cum on my cock.”

His fingers worked you over, you bit down on his shoulder, overstimulated.

“Yeah, feels good don’t it? Almost too much to handle, huh?”

Your breathing was quick, you shook as your orgasm overtook you, your head snapped back as every cell in your body was electrified in pleasure. The shame of cumming twice to a man out of wedlock was setting in, but Arthur gave you no time to process your feelings.

He pounded you into the mattress at a blinding speed, the bed creaking and groaning as the headboard repeatedly slammed into the wall. He bent you in half, taking your legs over his shoulders, digging his nails into your ankles. In this position your ability to breathe was negligible.

He gritted his teeth and growled as he shot load after load of cum into you, you felt the warmth of it inside you. He panted, letting out a satisfied sigh. He pulled out and flopped over next to you. You started crying again, terrified that he had impregnated you.

“Jesus, what are you so upset about? Get dressed.”

He untied your wrists and you quickly pulled your clothes back on between choking back tears.

“Now, as much as I’d love to keep you here, I got important business to take care of. I’m bein’ nice and lettin’ you go. But if find out you told a single living soul what happened tonight, I’ll hunt you down and fuckin’ kill you. So run, get the hell out of here before I change my mind and spare myself the trouble by just killin’ you now.”

You were frozen, you guessed this was what shock felt like. He pulled out his revolver.

“RUN!” He shouted.

You flung the door open and fled down the hall, the fear of Arthur deciding to just go ahead and kill you never leaving your mind. You burst open the doors of the saloon, tumbling onto the street. You quickly picked yourself up and took off running all the way home, not once daring to look back.

When you got home you broke down, crying yourself to sleep.

alt ending:

He gritted his teeth and growled as he shot load after load of cum into you, feeling the warmth of it inside you. He panted, letting out a satisfied sigh. He pulled out and flopped over next to you. You started crying again, terrified that he had impregnated you. Arthur untied your wrists and pulled you against his chest, stroking your cheek and wiping away your tears with his thumb.

He soothed you like a wounded animal, his deep voice speaking gently. “Easy now, shhh. You did so good for me, you know that?”

You nodded. Despite all the aggression and threats that he had showed tonight you started to feel comforted, safe almost. You pulled yourself up to be level with his face, you looked into his eyes, there was almost a softness in them that he hadn’t shown before. You laced your fingers in his hair and kissed him passionately. His cheeks turned pink, he wasn’t expecting that.

“You finally startin’ to come around to me?” He chuckled.

You laid your head back on his chest. “I guess I am, Arthur.”

His heart thumped in his chest, god his name sounded incredible coming out of your mouth. He ran a calloused hand up and down your back.

“Tell you what, I’ll cut you a deal. You can either leave now and I won’t stop you, or you can stay here with me. What’ll it be, princess?”

The pet name you despised mere minutes ago was growing on you.

“I’ll stay.” You said, moving up to kiss him again.

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.” He purred.

[pepperpixel]

“put me on a pedestal and i’ll only disappoint you

tell me i’m exceptional, and i promise to exploit you

gimme all your money, and i’ll make some origami honey!

i think you’re a joke!!! …but i don’t find you very

fuuuuuuu~nyyy”

More tagr art!!! Assorted stuff this time! Featuring some cute chibi stuff. Some solo gaz’s, a lil uhhh. Comic of an altercation.. and a very belated Halloween pic I started drawing last Halloween and didnt finish lol. Also featuring lyrics from pedestrian at best cuz that song rllly rlly fits my ver of tak lol.

[bunnihearted]

sometimes i truly do feel so isolated and alienated because even if people on here are lonely and sad they still have friends and partners and they're capable of having jobs and getting educations ... and im like ok wow im like actually the only one who doesn't just "feel" those things but also is completely worthless and insignificant. cool 👍

[bluesidedown]

hnggghhggg

[ironmanstan]

the dichotomy of man (need to get out of this fuckin house but if i go then i can not see my cats)

[navree]

once again on my frankenstein bullshit because i’m sure it’s a very nice bookend but it is baffling that so many fix it attempts for this story are built on frankenstein asking the creature’s forgiveness in the arctic because like??? no??? the only time victor was ever in the position of “hey you should really say sorry to this guy” is after he first ran away. everything else after that should be the creature fucking groveling and saying “hey sorry i murdered your brother and then framed your friend so she’d be executed and then murdered your boyfriend and the murdered your wife which made your dad weaken and die”  because in the scales of who’s been wronged more, guy whose father was mean to him is very much trumped by guy who had everyone he loves wiped the fuck out because his son threw a temper tantrum. 

sorry.

[synonymroll648]

IF LORE UPDATES APPLIED TO PEOPLE I WOULDVE JUST GOTTEN ONE OF MY HAPPIEST LORE UPDATES TODAY

[hecksupremechips]

I love to imagine Rebecca as trans like it just has become so ingrained in my mind it feels weird it’s not canon. She realized at a young age and her parents were supportive and let her present how she wanted and they used her name and pronouns, but they weren’t around enough to go the extra mile for her and make sure she was being protected. She was the target of some pretty bad bullying at school, both from the students and the staff, and Ashton was the first person to defend her. Ashton is cishet (cuz I think it’s funny) and hes kinda ignorant at first but he tries his best and he just likes Rebecca and wants good things for her and he’s so emo he scares away the bullies lol. And this was definitely a big part in Rebecca gaining feelings for him he just showed her this special kinda care that no one else ever did, and it’s what makes her extra insecure as the years go by. Cuz she wonders if maybe the reason Ashton never seems to reciprocate her feelings is because she’s trans and he just never thought to see her as romance material as a result. Which is a line of thinking that gets out of control really bad and she never gets to have the closure she wants with it either

She tells Isabella that’s shes trans just cuz they’re best friends and it sorta comes up eventually. Isabella was a tomboy growing up so she can definitely relate to the bullying shit pretty well and they are very protective of each other and vow to beat up anyone who talks shit about the other. They also just open each other’s minds a bit, Isabella helps Rebecca feel more comfortable in knowing there’s many different ways to be a woman, Rebecca helps Isabella maybe explore her feelings about her own gender and whether or not she’s really attached to womanhood. Zach finds out in a more casual way, it’s just something he learns cuz it felt weird that he was the only one who didn’t know and well. He’s a good guy, he wouldn’t mind. It’s not something the two of them ever talk about really, aside from bonding over a few shared experiences with having to deal with assholes. And really, being trans just isn’t something Rebecca wants to talk about too much, just because she’s gotten to a point where’s she’s experienced being stealth and she knows how quickly people can turn on you when they know, and she understandably doesn’t wanna deal with that shit. But because her friends are so supportive, she doesn’t exhale and let herself just exist naturally around them and it does help her feel less insecure about who she is

Sexuality wise I think she’s "straight" I think she’s spent most of her life looking at Ashton and just assuming she’d be with a man but once she finally gets to give up on him she has Moments with Isabella or like a certain fondness for Marianne and their shared love of history and other nerd shit and shes just like. Uh Oh 😟

[bi-writes]

I think first make out session of Simon and his mail order bride happened because she wore sundress all day ~~ i'm a bit addicted to the way you writing Simon

mail-order bride

reader described as curvier/plus-sized 18+

simon has gotten away with a lot of things ever since he married you. he's kept a respectful distance; gentle touches, affectionate ones, sure, but it's been easy to brush off the itch in the back of his head ever since he scratched it just enough when he kissed you for the first time.

when the itch becomes too severe, he's been able to hide away for a little while; running it out of his system working out, shaking it off in the field, drinking so it quiets when he makes his way to the pub.

but it's gotten a lot harder lately to pretend he doesn't see you for what you are.

a pretty girl.

he tells you that you're pretty all the time. in the mornings when you're still waking up. sitting at the counter as you watch him make sandwiches for lunch. pushing the cart in the aisle at the market, picking out the right cuts of meat or seeing which crisps you both can enjoy for movie night. and you are pretty all those times, all the time, in fact, and you were pretty when he kissed you, too.

but fuck. you're also...you're also so fucking pretty.

simon kicks off his boots at the front door, holding a few paper bags in his hands from his trip to the store. the weather has been getting warmer, summer creeping by (his most dreaded season since it forces him to take off layers he'd rather keep), and you had been begging simon for some sweet icy treats and a water fountain for the cat (it'll keep her from drinking out of your water glasses, simon).

when he steps into the kitchen, you're coming in from the backyard, flowers in your hands that the neighbor must have given you.

and you're wearing the cutest little white and red sundress (and suddenly he doesn't hate summer so much anymore).

it's got a cherry pattern on it and puffy sleeves. the bodice hugs you until the middle, where it fans out in a pillowy skirt, stopping just above your knees. there's a soft bow tied around the back, but simon really can't help himself from his eyes that narrow in on your figure and how incredible you look with the sunlight behind you.

"hi, simon," you coo, and simon glares, fucking tease. he has an inkling you don't even know what you're doing to him, you can't, not with that sweet little smile and the way you rock onto your toes. you even tied your hair up with a bow, and simon can't help but feel like you're his little gift, all wrapped up just for him.

one he wants to pluck, unravel until you reveal whatever you've been hiding underneath it all--

"oh! look it! oh, simon!" you giggle, grabbing the bag from him when you see the box that pokes out of it. you pull out a sweet, red ice lolly, cherry-flavored, and you lean up on your toes to give simon a big, wet kiss on his cheek before sucking it into your mouth. "mmm...thank you...just what i needed, it's so warm today."

bloody fuckin' christ.

your tongue is so pink. it's sliding up the edge of it until you suck it back into your mouth, and simon lets out the shakiest breath. it's unlike him, and you turn to face him fully when you notice the way he's staring at you. he looks good today, dark denim jeans and a wrinkled white t-shirt that stretches around his big arms, and your eyes dart to his tattoo sleeve for just a moment before you smile back up at him.

"what?" you ask him gently. "you want some?"

instead of offering him his own lolly, you simply tilt yours in his direction. he huffs, letting out an irritated laugh before he leans forward a licks a fat stripe up the side of the cherry ice.

you smile a little as he does, and you don't even realize your gaze has dropped. you're eyeing the way his mouth moves, taking in the hinge of his jaw and the light stubble along it and the scar that stretches across his whole face that you kiss sometimes when he falls asleep before you.

he groans a little as he takes a bite of the lolly, and you seize at the sound, dropping the lolly into the sink on accident as you scramble to look up at him. you stare at each other, lidded brown eyes just piercing into your own. you're quiet for only a few more moments before you're throwing yourself at him.

he nearly slams you against the closest wall. your back hits it firmly, rattling the pictures that hang there, and you throw your arms around his neck as he kisses you feverishly. his hands slide down your waist to your lower back, and you stand on your toes, his palms cupping your ass before he picks you up with ease, guiding your plush thighs to wrap around his waist as he holds you there.

you don't know how long you kiss against the wall, but you're breathless when he pulls away. you chase him, kissing along his nose, his cheek, any of the skin that you can get, and simon grunts lowly, cradling the back of your neck.

"we shouldn't," he mutters.

"why not?" you whine, and he hisses, looking into your eyes, hungry, big man, struggling to keep himself away from you. but it isn't what you want, you want him to kiss you, you want more, more, more--

you stand back on your toes, pushing him backwards. simon follows you, his hands bunched around the skirt of your dress as you walk him further into the living room until the couch hits the back of his knees, and he sits with a heavy breath. you bend to go sit in his lap, and simon curses under his breath, leaning his head back against the couch as your cleavage crowds his line of sight.

"fuckin' christ, baby," simon says lowly, running a rough hand over his face. he grunts when you take a seat in his lap, stretching your knees to straddle him, and you cage him in with your arms as you guide his chin back down so you can kiss him. you slot your mouth over his, kissing him lazily, and when you press your chest against his, he breathes out heavily when he feels your pebbled nipples through your dress. "fuck--fuck, fuck--"

"not yet," you giggle between kisses, and simon groans audibly as he slips two big hands under your dress and grabs both sides of your ass, his fingertips slipping under the lace of your panties so he can get a warm feel of you. you sit yourself down deeper in his lap, and you pull away slowly when you feel him underneath you.

he blinks his eyes open slowly, and you tentatively sit a little more in his lap, your eyes widening a little when you feel him between your thighs.

holy fucking shit--

"jesus," you stutter, and he looks away from you, ears reddening, and you're quick to cup his cheeks to bring his eyes back to you. you smile a little, leaning in again, and you press your forehead to his before giving him the gentlest grind of your hips. "oh--simon--" you kiss him again, soft, whispering against his lips, "s-so...you're so--"

"mhm," he nods, and you move so your lips are against his ear, giving him a light kiss where his jaw and neck meet.

"i'd say you're too big for me," you sigh, closing your eyes, "but i'm a riley now." you giggle. "'n we can handle anything..can't we, simon?"

"shit--"

you squeak a little when he wraps a hand in your hair and tugs, pressing your pelvis to his as he ruts his hips up against yours. you kiss him hard, slipping your tongue into his mouth, and he chokes on his moans, big arms keeping you pressed to him as he pants into your mouth.

he stills, face a little scrunched up as he sits there with you. you keep kissing him lazily, exploring the way he tastes, licking over his teeth and bottom lip, up until he pushes you just that much away and groans in frustration.

your eyes open, and you giggle, and simon smooths his hands up the bodice of your dress, his eyes blown wide as he takes in how pretty you look in it. pretty little angel in his lap, a nice weight to ground him as he tries not to think about the mess he's made of himself.

"i assume you like the dress?" you ask, and when you laugh, simon can see the red on your tongue from the lolly. he knows if he kisses you again and sucks on your pretty tongue, you'll taste like that awful cherry, taste as sugar-sweet as you really are. simon leans back a little, propping you up on his thighs, shaking his head as he runs a big hand down his solid middle.

"well," simon mutters. "'aven't cum in my fuckin' pants since i was a bloody kid, so i'd say so."

"w-wha--! simon!"

you cover your eyes, overcome with shyness, with warmth, not believing really that anyone could you want that much. that anyone could really want you at all.

but when you laugh, he does, too.

[chuluoyi]

𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

he is your husband and you are his wife. but of course you know the bitter truth—you will never be able to replace her.

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, drunken sex, mentions of injury, blood, hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here), spoilers! from zayne’s bond story nostalgic sweetness

note: wc. 8k ! i've been having these bits and pieces scenarios for zayne in mind and then i thought what if i combined it all into one angst joyride? :)) tagging per request: @kissxcore @rjreins @i2s2m @tom-pls-fuck-me @yueyoonie @sanriosatoru

07.15 p.m

Zayne would be getting off work soon. He had just finished an emergency surgery, and it had been exhausting. Now it was quite late.

“Dr. Zayne! Great job today!” Greyson exclaimed, suddenly strolling into his consultation room with a grin. “Want to grab dinner with us?”

Honestly, he was starving too. “Where?”

“Oh, you know, that new place that just opened nearby! They have the tastiest tiramisu, or so I’ve heard. C’mon, we’re inviting the nurses too!”

He knew he needed to head home soon, but fatigue and hunger blurred his thoughts at the mention of dessert.

“Alright.”

. . .

08.25 p.m

Getting together with the hospital staff was always nice. They were rowdy, but it was definitely a great way to unwind after a hard day.

The tiramisu was as great as Greyson said. Speaking of his assistant, he and Yvonne were having a blast. Other doctors were getting drunk. Zayne could only shake his head, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had been here quite a while.

It was only when he turned on his phone and saw the time that he realized, with sinking heart that—

He was supposed to meet you at six.

If you were asked how you felt about your life now, you’d be hard-pressed to say you were completely content.

You were a stellar fighter in the Hunter Association, more than content with your job, and you had a good husband. To some, you had what they would call the perfect life.

The wife of the Dr. Zayne. True, it was a flattering title, yet unbeknownst to everyone, also a humbling one.

And the notion struck you once again when your husband of almost two years stood you up on your dinner date without so much as a notice.

“Miss... we’re about to close now...” The waitress approached your table for at least the third time, and you nodded sheepishly, finally finishing your meal.

You paid for it and left the restaurant. The chilly night air hit your skin, giving you goosebumps as you walked home. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Granted, Zayne had a packed schedule, and you figured he might've had an urgent matter to attend to that he forgot to let you know.

Still... it hurts. Knowing you were not a priority in your husband’s eyes wasn’t a fun feeling.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket the moment you arrived at your shared home. Your husband’s name flashed on your screen. The time now was 08.40 p.m.

“Hello, Zayne?”

“Y/N?” Your husband’s voice sounded frantic. “Are you still at the restaurant? I’m going—”

“Ah, no need to. I’m going home.”

“I’ll pick you up then. Stay there—”

“I’ve already arrived.”

An awkward silence settled between you, and you could clearly hear the noise on the other end. Greyson’s laughter was unmistakable.

You forced a laugh, still trying to sound cheerful for him even when realizing that he had completely forgotten about you. “It’s totally fine, Zayne! Are you heading back?”

“Yeah...”

“Take care then. See you at home.”

You ended the call with a sigh, trying to shake off the sting in your heart. As you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, you passed by a large portrait on the wall, and a bittersweet sensation washed over you.

Your wedding photo. Both of you were smiling on what was the most wonderful day of your life. Zayne’s smile was reserved, but yours was radiant.

It is the most wonderful thing that has happened to you... but is it the same for him?

At that time, despite everything, you were convinced a lifetime of happiness awaited you, yet now... it got harder to fool yourself into believing it.

Your marriage has always been lukewarm.

Zayne wasn’t an overly excited person, and you were his opposite—but try as you might, some things between you just didn’t work out. As a result, both of you tended to keep certain things to yourselves.

Most days, this didn't bother him. He valued his privacy, so the way things were suited him just fine. However, several days later, when Greyson approached him with a worried expression and a news, even Zayne had to draw the line.

“Dr. Zayne? Uh, how do I say this? I think I saw your wife being wheeled in earlier with the injured from the hunt zones raid…”

. . .

“Your husband is a doctor here. Why aren’t you calling him?”

Xavier, your fellow Deepspace Hunter who was partnered with you in this mission, questioned you with a hint of annoyance as he observed your pathetic state on the stretcher and crossed his arms. “Why do you have to bleed out in ER when you can get him?”

You winced, pressing the bloodied cloth against your stinging abdomen as you felt yourself growing faint. “He’s... a surgeon,” you panted. “He’s busy.”

Above all, you didn’t want Zayne to see you like this. You could already imagine his angry face, and that mental image alone made you recoil.

“What sort of husband is busy when his wife is injured?” Xavier raised an eyebrow. “Did you at least notify him?”

You shut your eyes, feeling a migraine coming.

“I will then.”

“No.”

“Y/N, you—”

“Shut up, Xavier—”

The curtain was suddenly pulled back, and you braced yourself for whoever had come to check on you next. To your surprise, the cloth in your hand was snatched away, and you felt your uniform being torn open with urgency.

When you opened your eyes, you barely made out your husband’s figure through your hazy vision. “…Zayne?”

His expression was stern, unforgiving even, as he started to disinfect your wound. Despite the tension, you couldn't deny the relief that washed over you. You knew you were in good hands, even if you had to face his fury later on.

Your consciousness slipped away not long after that.

. . .

The next time you woke up, you found yourself in a private room, with a nagging itch where you had been injured.

You groaned, your limbs stiff and heavy, and the room slowly came into focus—along with your husband's face.

"Zayne?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He stood pristine in his white coat and glasses, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Your wound is, thankfully, shallow," he said flatly, his tone lacking any real concern. "You'll be discharged tonight. I'll take you home as soon as my shift is over."

"Ah..." You blinked several times to clear your head. "Good then. Sorry for showing up out of nowhere. Xavier and I were on a rescue mission, and I accidentally—"

He walked away before you could finish, the abruptness snapping you fully awake. He was furious, that much was clear.

"Ha ha..." You forced a laugh, fiddling with your fingers, trying to ease the awkward tension between you. "It doesn't hurt much, actually. You're right—I'm fine..."

Zayne shot you a sharp glance. "You passed out due to blood loss."

"This isn't the first time it has happened and nor will it be—"

"And it didn't even occur to you to inform me at all. I found out that my own wife was wounded because Greyson passed by the ER and saw you."

His words left you silent, caught red-handed, but your annoyance was reaching its limit. You had imagined how nice it would be if he panicked about you, showering you with care when he found out. But instead, Zayne chose to rebuke you the moment you woke up.

“I’m not a child,” you reasoned, keeping yourself calm. “I’m a hunter. This is nothing new, and you should understand that.”

“The least you could’ve done is to tell me—“

“Do you know why I didn’t? It’s because I know how you’ll react!”

“—and it would do you better to prioritize your safety and not rush headfirst into danger.”

“Believe me, I do but—!”

Suddenly, Zayne spun around to face you, his eyes blazing with fury as he raised his voice. “I’ve told you so many times already, you have to stay back, or you’ll end up—!”

He stopped abruptly, leaving his sentence hanging in the air, but right at that moment, you knew all too well who he meant, and what the implication was.

His, without a doubt, greatest love. His childhood friend, a hunter like yourself, someone he had vowed to save but succumbed to her illness before he could do so, died on arrival.

The irony was sharp. You had become everything she once was. You knew her well, too. When she passed, the entire Hunter Association mourned her loss. And more than that, on the night she died, you had been with him.

Looking back, you should have seen it coming. Still, it hit you like a splash of cold water. Your husband was still preoccupied with thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, and worse yet, he saw pieces of her in you.

And you suspected he had for a while—perhaps even, from the very beginning.

For a second there, not for the first time, you felt your heart shatter.

“I don’t have Protocore syndrome,” you stated, steeling yourself against the heartbreak. “My heart won't suddenly fail because I get injured. I’m not that weak.”

You turned away as Zayne refused to respond, missing his look of disdain as he stormed out of the room.

That was when your first tear fell.

Right from the start, you knew you had to brace yourself for this. You knew that eventually, this tragedy would overshadow your marriage. Because while Zayne might be your husband by law, deep down, his heart still belonged to someone else.

To her.

You two are too much alike.

It wasn’t the first time he had noticed it. And it wouldn’t be the last.

On bad mornings, when his eyes were bleary and he hadn't had a good sleep, he would see her instead of you in your shared bed. And with that mistaken sight came a fleeting sense of relief... until his vision cleared and he remembered she was truly gone and it was you.

Zayne knew how wrong this was on so many levels. It was terribly unfair to you.

Still, his concern for you was genuine. Seeing you lying still on the stretcher brought back that very same nightmare, and really, he truly never wanted you to be hurt.

After his outburst and your clipped response, the two of you barely exchanged any words for the rest of the week. To make matters worse, he was sent on a business trip the following week, and all in all, you went two weeks hardly speaking to each other.

And before he knew it, her death anniversary was only a couple of days away.

. . .

"How much is this?"

"Ah, the bow is 50,000 Gold, sir!"

Inside the airport's souvenir shop, Zayne examined the intricate light blue and white bow clip. Made of tweed and adorned with small pearls, it looked nice.

He thought it'd suit you well.

"I'll get this then."

"Right away!"

As the clerk went to wrap the trinket, Zayne reflected on these past two weeks. A nagging feeling twisted in his gut as he thought about how curt he had been with you in text messages and how often you had left him on read.

Husband and wife shouldn't be this way. He wanted the unbearable air between you to end. Determined to resolve things, he planned to talk to you when he returned. He was on his way to the airport taxi when—

"Zayne!" He stopped in his tracks, recognizing the familiar voice, and turned around.

There you were, waiting by his car with a smile.

It was never in you to stay angry for long. It was a blessing and a curse, really, because while you no longer wished to give your husband silent treatment, a part of you still felt conflicted.

"How was your trip?" you asked as you started the engine, pushing the events of the past two weeks to the back of your mind.

Zayne didn't immediately answer, and you felt his gaze on you as you drove the car. "It was okay."

You hummed in acknowledgement, and he followed up with, "How is your wound? Do you dress it daily?"

"Mm-hm. It's getting better."

"I'll have a look at it later."

"Sure."

Silence. Usually you would ramble to distract him, but now, even you weren’t sure if you should.

Then, he said, "You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have made my way home on my own."

To that, you pasted on a smile. “You always pick me up whenever I have to go on business trips. It’s only fair I do the same for you, husband.”

Ah. Was it the wrong move? The word had slipped out so easily that you didn’t realize it until after you said it.

But to your surprise, Zayne let out a chuckle and played along. "Well, thank you then, wife. It certainly felt quite off without a certain someone the past week."

So, he actually likes having you around...? The thought made you almost giddy. Despite his usual taciturn and sarcastic demeanor, you knew he was genuine in his own way.

"Bet you missed me," you teased, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Nope. But I did miss getting new snowmen."

"...why do you like them so much? I've made plenty for you already."

"No particular reason. Snowman just kinda reminds me of you somehow."

The tension between you had melted away, and you felt a sense of relief. Beside you, even Zayne couldn’t hide his smile. For the rest of the drive home, you chatted like you used to.

When you arrived back at your shared home, he suddenly stopped and presented you with a little box. "I got you something."

"Huh?" you paused, bewildered, as he took your hand and placed the box in it.

"Open it."

With curiosity, you lifted the lid, and were surprised at the sight of a pretty bow clip inside. "Whoa, how cute..."

Zayne eyed you expectantly. "Do you like it?"

Your eyes lit up with delight, and a smile spread across your lips.

"Yes!" you beamed at him with zero hesitation, and in that moment, something struck a chord within him. Zayne had always thought you were easy on the eyes—

—but when you smiled like that, you were truly charming.

"It's healing nicely."

You felt somewhat self-conscious as your husband examined your bare abdomen, where your injury was, as you lied on your bed. His hands, cool and practiced, tenderly removed your stitches.

It wasn't as if Zayne had never touched you. You two had been married for almost two years, and of course you had been intimate several times, but it wasn't as if you were a passionate couple to begin with—so you often found yourself flustered.

"Mm." Despite yourself, you squirmed. Noticing this, he looked up at you, his unfazed eyes meeting yours with a frown.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, not really... It just feels as if you're tickling me."

He was positively unamused. "I'm not trying to tickle you."

"I know!"

Zayne wrapped your midsection securely with the bandage. When he was done, he let out a sigh and you felt like you had to show him your gratitude somehow.

“Thank you, Zayne…” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. But in the next second, your heart skipped a beat as his hand rested gently on your head.

"You can thank me by being more careful next time." Your husband looked at you with the smallest of smile. "Your safety comes first, always remember that."

Without either of you realizing it, you both had tried to bury that argument from two weeks ago, yet it was still gnawing at you all the same. The thought that he too was bothered with it made you warm.

"Noted," you cheekily grinned. "If I'm not safe and sound, a certain iceman will get angry at me."

Zayne shot you an unimpressed look. “If you come to me injured again, I’ll start charging you fees.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How stingy! I'm your wife, not just some stranger!"

"A very uncooperative wife, you are."

You huffed, and he chuckled. You really thought all was well between you two now, until Zayne suddenly stood up and grabbed the car keys. “Well then, rest. I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stop by the florist—”

And it hit you. In two days. The day everything ended three years ago.

Zayne seemed to realize it too, but you quickly masked your falling smile with a faux one. "O-oh, right..."

No matter how, it's still going to be an important day to him. You had nothing against it, really. Your husband's late girlfriend had once been your colleague too, and you mourned her just like everyone else did.

Still, even with that understanding, in your heart of hearts, it remains just as bitter.

You didn't want to, but you needed to find closure. You hoped that by doing this, it would finally put an end to all your insecurities.

"Let's go together, Zayne. I want to pay her a visit too."

Two days later, you and Zayne, a bouquet of flowers in hand, stood before the grave bearing many colorful flowers and postcards.

You supposed you knew already, but seeing it firsthand, you realized just how deeply she was loved still. The outpouring of respect from the Hunter Association was evident in the tribute left behind.

"It's been a while," Zayne, dressed in his most formal black suit, said solemnly, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the pristine stone.

You watched as he knelt to place his flowers and then brought his hands together in prayer. You followed his lead, placing your own bouquet beside his.

What should you even say to her? Your mind raced with countless thoughts, but none felt right to voice before the woman who had so deeply captured your husband's heart.

In the end, when you sensed that Zayne had finished with his prayer, you decided to remain silent and rose with him.

. . .

“Does it get easier?” you asked out of curiosity afterwards. “Three years has passed already.”

Although Zayne wasn’t one for drinking, even the need won today. He didn’t meet your eyes as he sipped his wine, humming thoughtfully. “Somewhat. As they say, time heals.”

You two stopped by a fine restaurant after visiting the grave. The cemetery had been a two-hour drive from Linkon City, and now it was already evening.

“She loved jasmines,” you remarked, recalling the pot of them you once saw on her desk and the flowers overflowing at the grave earlier.

“She did.” The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue as he continued, “She loved old popsicles and macarons too.”

“And you like them as well.”

“To be honest, I started liking them back when we were kids…” Zayne had this pained, faraway look in his eyes as he had another sip. “She cried over her melted popsicle and it got me to wonder if it was really that tasty...”

The idea that you had to compete with a dead woman for your husband’s affection left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you had failed thoroughly as a woman.

Despite hating yourself for asking, you needed to know. “Do I help you… in any way at all?”

Zayne was clearly taken aback by the question. His sharp, gray eyes locked onto you, mind whirred as he tried to grasp your meaning.

“Y/N, you...”

It was foolish, you knew. But you waited with bated breath for his response, even when one wrong word could shatter your heart beyond repair. You were ready for any sort of unfavorable answer, but then—

“I... am glad it is you.”

His words made you look up, and you found yourself caught in his gaze. Zayne’s ashen eyes were steady, piercing into you.

“You were there on the hardest days. And ever since, you’ve always stayed by my side.” He held your gaze firmly, voice was thick with emotion you couldn’t quite name. “I’m grateful for that.”

And then, with a sincerity that pierced through every uncertainty, he added, “What I want to say is... I’m glad I married you, Y/N.”

You have loved him for so long. Since the days when you know he isn’t yours to love, until now.

Your heart swelled with so much warmth that tears brimmed in your eyes. His acknowledgment of your presence filled you with a profound sense of belonging you never knew you needed before.

Was it the alcohol?

You suspected it might be, because in nearly two years of marriage, Zayne had never lost his control like this. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, he pushed you against the wall and devoured your lips hungrily.

“Mmph!” His hands gripped your arms while his lips and tongue pried yours open. The kiss was searing, almost forceful, with the faint bitterness of wine still lingering.

“Zay…ne…” you gasped between his kisses—teary, breathless, your voice trembling.

But your breathy grunts only seemed to spur him on. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, fixed on you as his hands slipped beneath your blouse, deftly unclasping your bra with a flick.

He is hot. Your husband was everything a woman desired in a man. Cool, handsome, blessed with hands that could do wonders—

In no time, he had you naked and wet before him, and with alarming speed, he too discarded his own suit and pants, throwing them away in flurry. And you could hardly believe what you were seeing next.

He spitted on his hand, ran it along his member—stroking himself with a practiced ease, never breaking eye contact with you. The next thing you knew, he yanked you into another burning kiss and made you topple on top of him—

“Ah!” his hands guided your hips with precision, positioning you and entering you. The instant he did, you whimpered at the sudden, sharp sting of pain.

“Does it hurt?” he asked almost in a growl when you clung to his shoulder with uneven breaths.

It was too sudden, and you hoped the discomfort would pass, so you timidly shook your head.

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.” Zayne tangled his fingers in your hair, turning your face to his. “Understand?”

There was always a distinct, almost commanding aura about him whenever the two of you were in your marital bed. Perhaps the way his voice sound lower, but it just hit different.

And you are a willing prey... whenever he becomes that beast.

He inched inside you slowly, making you moan with each instance. He was thick, warm, and taking him in was a challenge in itself. And when he finally sheathed himself fully, your nails had made its first scratch on his skin.

You felt full, and the way your womanhood stretched and clenched around him with each breathe you took made you dizzy. Panting, you finally met his gaze. Zayne’s silver eyes were still clouded with desire as he placed his hands firmly on your hips. Unable to resist, you reached out to caress his face.

"Hmm..." he subconsciously leaned into your touch, pressing his eyes shut together. "You smell nice," he huskily muttered.

Right this moment, all negative thoughts eluded you. It felt gratifying that your husband sought your touch like this as you towered over him.

And yet, despite that...

“Do you... finally see me now?” you asked, trailing your other hand down his toned chest and starting to grind against him. Zayne drew in a sharp breath and groaned, his fingers gripping your bum tighter.

Depending on his response, you would either find peace or face another heartbreak. You had placed your happiness on this pedestal more times than you could count, and it was a cross you had to bear.

But you never received your answer.

Your husband merely gazed up at you with a dangerous gleam. And oh, you could've sworn, this sight of Zayne eyeing you as if he were about to ruin you right then and there, would live-free in your mind for many days to come.

He then buried his face in your bosom, sucking on you with such fervor that your hands instinctively reached for his head to massage his scalp. The room was soon filled with your erotic groans and the squelching sounds from where your flesh were joined together— as he thrusted inside you over and over.

Right in this moment, you felt truly desired and wanted.

You are so happy. Incomparably so.

At the crack of dawn, Zayne woke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was how spent he felt, his limbs stiff and a throbbing headache pulsing at the back of his head.

Then he turned to his side, and the sight that met him twisted his gut in such a way that snapped him fully awake—

You were beside him, barely dressed and still deeply asleep. Your hair was a mess, and love bites were scattered across your skin, some on your chest looking almost like bruises.

It dawned on him that he, too, wasn’t decent. A sudden coldness gripped him, though it wasn’t just the morning air.

Him and you... last night...

Yesterday marked the third year. He meant everything he said to you, but the fact that he did this, with you, on the day of her death...

There was... nothing wrong with what he had done. You were his wife, no one could condone him for what he instigated. Yet, it still made him shiver.

And to make it worse, his thoughts from last night echoed back with vengeance, and—

He suddenly feels so immensely guilty.

. . .

It was the best sleep you’d had all week.

When you woke, sunlight had seeped through the window, and you discovered yourself already in pajamas, tucked snugly under a blanket. Still groggy with a dull ache in your lower belly, you relished the lingering afterglow, sighing in pure contentment, until you noticed Zayne wasn’t beside you.

Where did he go? You wondered amidst your haze. Sluggish, you stumbled out of the bed, flinching when your foot met the cold floor.

You eventually found him downstairs, sipping coffee at the dining table still with messy hair. "Zayne?"

He glanced up at you and nodded. There was something different about him, a subtle shift you couldn’t quite place. As you took a seat across from him, you hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Before you could find the right words though, he spoke first.

"I'm... sorry," he said, his tone laced with regret, causing a sharp pang of unease inside you.

"What?" you stared at him, feeling small and unsettled. "What are you sorry for?" you questioned as you gripped the hem of your shirt.

And then came the killing blow—

"Last night," Zayne muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. It was a mistake."

Mistake. The word echoed in your mind, but it was still hard to grasp its full weight.

"How was that—" you faltered, trembling, as the realization hit you like a truck and you gasped in disbelief. "Oh..."

Her. Again, and again, and again! Even when he was married to you, even when you were the one next to him each and everyday— even so!

Your husband considers that a night spent with you—his wife—a mistake!

The last of your patience snapped, as you broke down in sobs before him. "You're the worst!" you screamed at him amidst your mournful tears.

Zayne seemed taken aback at your outburst, his eyes wide. "Y/N, wait, you don't—"

"Screw you!" But you were beyond explanations at this point. You fled back to your bedroom. Zayne followed you suit, but you slammed the door in his face and locked it. As you collapsed onto the floor, the realization hit you with full force.

No matter what you did, you would always come second—or not at all.

The fracture in your marriage was undeniable.

Things had changed. Your home felt colder, and the tension was so stifling that you sometimes spent the night at the Hunter Association’s dorm just to escape it.

Zayne initially tried to reach out, but you were unwilling to listen, and eventually, he gave up. Before long, nearly a month had passed with this strain in the air.

You threw yourself into more rescue operations, using work as a distraction from the turmoil that lingered in your mind. Despite your best efforts to distract yourself, the unresolved thoughts and feelings clung to you.

"Xavier, am I lacking as a woman?"

Your frequent partner these days cracked open an eye despite his attempt to nap before today’s rescue mission. "What...?"

"No, forget it."

Things couldn't go like this forever. It was obvious by now—as long as he couldn’t let go of his past and you couldn’t accept him as he was, this marriage couldn't be saved.

Just as you headed towards the printer in the room, Xavier responded. "You talk a lot, eat a lot, and always bothering me when I'm about to sleep..."

You shot him an irked glance, disbelief evident on your face. "Hey!"

"But—" his clear voice cut through the air as he turned to you with half-lidded eyes. "You're exceptionally kind. If anyone can't appreciate that, then it's their loss."

At that moment, the ice inside your chest melted. To know that your own co-worker thought that kindly of you gave you a little boost of confidence.

But then Xavier added, "Sometimes you're stupid too. It's funny to watch."

"—?! You're so mean!"

A subtle smile curved on his lips as he turned to his side, ready to resume his nap. "Anyway, what are you printing?"

You feigned a huff as you gathered the papers and brought them to your desk. "Just something I need to submit when necessary."

A part of you wasn’t fully committed to it, of course—it was just that your emotions had no proper outlet even until now. As you pushed the drawer shut, a wave of bitterness washed over you as you reread the title on the blank form:

Petition for Divorce.

Zayne genuinely wanted to treat you well.

You were a nice girl. Too nice even. From the moment he laid his eyes on you some years ago, as a friend of a friend, he knew you were nothing but kind and cheery.

He still remembered that morning vividly: the hurt on your face, the tears welling up in your eyes, and then you breaking into inconsolable sobs. That sight inflicted something in him—it felt as though his own heart had been split in two.

Believe it or not, he cherished you too.

That night, even though he didn’t show it, he was still mourning her. When alcohol took over his mind and he saw you, you seemed like a perfect escape. He thought that even if he forced himself on you, there would be no consequences.

He hated that he had thought that way. He hated that how, in the end, you had become a means of relief for him.

Now you couldn't even look him in the eye, and Zayne didn't want to risk trying to coax you further. You were angry with him and rightly so, but when you ignored him and went home late more often, he was worried.

It was what drove him to volunteer for the rescue mission. When he saw your name on the hunter list, he felt compelled to make sure you were okay.

. . .

It was strange to see you on duty.

With your hunter uniform and your hair tied up, you were the picture of a very capable hunter. Zayne found himself unexpectedly following your movements as you came and went.

"Dr. Zayne, are you checking your wife out?" the EMT next to him teased with a grin. "Well, when you have a pretty wife such as Y/N, of course..."

He cleared his throat and the EMT giggled as he sauntered away.

So, you were also considered attractive here. Of course you were. Zayne knew it, but he just didn't expect that anyone here would blurt it out so openly.

But that wasn't the most surprising of all—

"Xavier, shush!" you playfully punched the blonde man next to you in the chest, your broad smile lighting up the moment. The two of you whispered closely, and Zayne found himself feeling uncomfortable, like being prickled by several needles.

He has never made you laugh so openly like that. The nagging feeling inside him grew stronger as he watched you—even if it was just in a platonic sense—with another man. It stirred something within him, making him want to pull that blonde aside, give him a word or two, and overthrow him altogether.

Amidst the growing storm inside him, you suddenly turned sideways and caught his eye, and Zayne could've sworn... he felt time stopped at that moment.

It was so candid that it took his breath away. The way your earnest, unclouded eyes met his. How natural you were while loading your gun...

Ah, they were right. His wife was exceptionally pretty.

But before he could fully appreciate it, you broke the eye contact and turned away, pretending as if you hadn’t seen him at all.

Zayne wondered then, why did he feel so hurt all of a sudden?

Battlefields were always a place of chaos, and Zayne was no stranger to it.

He was on standby at the makeshift hospital as patients surged in, continuously aiding first-aid. Some were hunters on duty, and his heart was in his throat the entire time, anxiously hoping you wouldn’t be among them.

"Doc... it still hurts," a little girl sniffled right after Zayne wrapped her injured arm with the gauze. Despite the anxiety, seeing this tearful girl softened his frown.

"It's just going to take a while, hmm?" he patted the kid in the head. "It's going to be better soon enough."

"My mom is still inside..." she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "Doc, will they get her out?"

Zayne hesitated, his thoughts briefly drifting to you. He managed a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, they’ll—"

Crash! —all of a sudden, a loud explosion shook the hospital, the sound echoing through the chaos. The little girl clung to his coat in fear.

"Call for retreat!" someone suddenly shouted from outside. "Alert all personnel immediately!"

Retreat. The thought that you might be safe soon brought him a sense of relief. He turned to the girl, trying to keep his composure.

"Look, the hunters are retreating, it means most are already evacuated." Zayne managed a reassuring smile. "Stay here. I'll help you find her later, okay?"

He went to the survivors' camp outside, attending to the wounded and keeping a vigilant eye on each returning hunter. Even until 30 minutes later, he still hadn't seen you. Thinking to contact you, he reached out for his phone.

"Who hasn't gotten out?" Jenna, your team leader, demanded the receiver with a stern voice, standing tall several feet away from the camp, and Zayne overheard the snippets of her conversation.

A frantic voice responded, "Xavier is still inside! Y/N too!"

"Those two! They are always—!"

What?

Zayne almost dropped his phone when he heard your name. Terror gripped him instantly, and then suddenly, again, it was his greatest nightmare realized.

You are still inside. You could be hurt. It was possible you had no means to get out of there.

He didn’t register letting go of his coat or crossing the police line—all that mattered was getting to you. He sprinted away, ignoring the shouts of those trying to stop him.

No. Not again!

Debris flew everywhere, and the roars of Wanderers grew louder as he neared the building wreckage. As a splinter was about to hit him, ice shot through his palms, creating a barrier that shattered it.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name, his voice cracking with panic. "Where are you?!"

All he could think about was the memory of you bleeding out in the ER. Zayne never wanted to see that again. Should anything happen to you now...

He didn't want you to be hurt. He hated seeing you cry. For the past weeks, it had torn him apart to see you so unhappy. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, the one you looked at with love.

The realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Yet it wasn’t an epiphany but a simple truth he had always known but never fully grasped until now.

If he lost you now, it'd destroy him.

He continued screaming your name over and over. And then, after turning several turns, he finally saw you, standing alone in the middle of the wreckage—

You turned to him in surprise when you heard your name in his shout, and were rooted to the spot, in disbelief that your husband was right before you.

Zayne felt a wave of relief wash over him, until a hollow croak from above caught his attention. He squinted—

A glass panel had crumbled and was falling directly towards you.

A sense of dread so great overwhelmed him, a lump formed in his throat, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. He sprinted forward, and with everything he had, he pushed you out the way.

The next thing he knew, everything went pitch black.

"Zayne? Zayne!"

A memory flashed in his mind's eye. The one memory he wished he didn't have to relive ever again.

Sitting on the deserted hospital bench, his eyes were vacant. Utter hollowness choked him, leaving him motionless. It was over. There was no blood on his hands, yet it felt as if there were.

Your grip on his shoulder was tight, shaking him. "Zayne, snap out of it!" and only then he brought himself to meet your eyes.

"She died." That was the only thing he could mutter, pain woven in each word. "She really died."

Your eyes widened in horror, an inaudible gasp left your lips. "Oh..."

He didn't really know what happened next, but he remembered the warmth from when you pulled him to your arms, when sobs wracked his body as he thought the world was ending.

Since then, you have always been there.

And subconsciously, he may have regarded you as his lifeline.

. . .

Another memory.

"Are you awake...?"

His mind was hazy, but he recognized your voice. He blearily opened his eyes to find you placing a cool compress on his forehead.

"Who would have thought the great Dr. Zayne can get a fever?" you said with a soft laugh, patting his hair. "Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep."

You came to see him. He remembered telling you not to. But you still did, and the fact thawed the ice in his heart.

Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out and pulled you closer. "Don’t go."

"Are you trying to make me catch your cold too?" you teased with a soft laugh.

"Hmph. Who told you to come here...?"

"Ah, so you're whiny when you're not feeling well," you observed with a smile. "Okay, I'll stay! But only if you agree to nurse me if I catch your cold!"

You were noisy, but endearingly so.

. . .

"Don't pay her any mind," you fidgeted on your seat, a frown on your face. "My mom always does that."

There was never any talk about the nature your relationship between the two of you, but it was clear to everyone nevertheless. You were always around him, and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.

And not for the first time, your mother pushed him towards marriage with you.

"People are always getting the wrong idea," you grumbled. "Sorry, Zayne..." you lowered your head, seemingly in regret.

He was puzzled, because to him, it wasn't necessarily false. All things you did together lead to this.

"What if it isn't a wrong idea at all?"

You looked at him with slight surprise. "Huh...?"

Your presence was a gift. That tragedy was devastating, but having you constantly by his side made it bearable. He was fond of you, and the thought that if it's you, then surely...

In this memory, he was more sure than ever. What he said then, it came from the truest place in his heart.

"What if I told you... as of right now, I can't imagine being with anyone but you?"

The side of his head was throbbing with pain. Everything hurt, the hard asphalt was bruising his face as the headache set in. He could smell the scent of blood and sweat, but more than that—

"Zayne! Ah, hah— Please, please! No!"

Your voice, choked with tears, blared in his ears as you desperately shook him. You sounded so heartbroken, so utterly panicked, and your voice gradually pulled him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes took tremendous effort. At first, everything was a blur, but then it came into focus—the sight of you disheveled, smeared with soot, with tears streaming down your face. But still you— the woman he had married two years ago.

Yet his heart lurched. You're crying again... why is it that whenever with me, you're always crying?

"Are you... alright?" he rasped, lifting his hand to touch your face.

"Why did you—" You were startled by his question, your gaze fixed on the blood pooling on the side of his face. "Your head is bleeding!"

Ah, so you're fine. The sheer knowledge brought him relief, a faint smile forming at his lips. "I'm glad..."

"I'll help you get back! Hold onto me—" you said after brushing away your tears, lifting him up and draping his arm around your shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"I'm... fine..."

"You're not!" you refuted harshly, voice trembling. "You have to go back!"

You made him lean on you as you made your way back to the makeshift hospital, each step accompanied by your sniffles as you supported his waist.

Zayne glanced at you, feeling a warmth in his chest despite the migraine. "D-Don't cry... I'll be fine."

"You're an idiot!" you choked out, struggling to hold back your tears. "Why did you even come out here?"

"I... have to find you. They said you haven't returned."

"There are still civilians inside! I'll return eventually!"

"I can’t wait for that. I... have to know you're safe."

His response only fueled your frustration. "You don't have to—!"

"You are my wife—" he snapped, turning to you sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. "How can I not worry— for you?"

The forceful tone in his voice went straight to the most tender part of your heart. It really struck you at that moment that he had come out here for you, that his concern for you was that profound.

And that after all these weeks, he still keeps you in his thoughts.

He had pushed you out of the way, even at the cost of himself, barely missing the fallen billboard in that violent crash. If he was in the wrong position, he could've lost his life.

You stared at him, tears glossing your eyes.

"That's enough... Don't cry again." Zayne reached out to wipe your cheeks. His hands, however, were smeared with his own blood, leaving streaks on your face. "Ah... I got blood on you..."

But in that moment, you couldn’t care less. There was this indescribable sting of grief, but also paired with a sense of relief so great in your chest the very second you realize that now, he sees you.

You threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you sobbed, calling out to him in broken voice. “Z-Zayne...!”

“Why are you crying again...?” he let out a resigned sigh, but still embraced you regardless. “What a crybaby...”

You buried your face deeper into him, shaking uncontrollably. “You... saved me...” you managed to say amidst torrent of tears. “Y-You... got hurt...”

“I’ll be fine,” he retorted in your ear albeit in a hoarse voice, holding you close, even as blood trickled down the side of his face. “And I’d do it again. I refuse to see you hurt.”

You cried harder, and he pulled you tighter, his chest aching at the sight of you so inconsolable. And in that moment, he made the decision right then and there.

He will protect you so long as time will allow him to.

It was as if the invisible wall between you had crumbled to dust after that incident. You stayed by Zayne's side night and day, monitoring his condition.

And one night, several days later...

"Here, don't move..."

You carefully dressed the wound on Zayne's temple, sitting close beside him. He quietly observed your worried eyes and trembling fingers without a word.

"You even need stitches..." you lamented, biting your lip as you wrapped the bandage around his head. Tears pricked your eyes, overwhelmed by the concern you were pouring into the task.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," he gruffly insisted in an attempt to erase the sadness from your face. He felt the delicate, almost hesitant touch of your fingers on his face. "It'll heal with time."

Even as he said that, a part of you was still troubled at the sight of the wound on his head and cheekbone. No matter what he said, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault.

"I'm done. Now go rest," you said softly, your voice tinged with bitterness after tying the gauze. You rose to put the kit away, but even after you finished, Zayne remained upright on the bed, so you leveled a frown at him.

"What, why aren't you— Ah!"

Before you knew it, he pulled you by the arm, and you tumbled into his chest in surprise. "What are you doing?!" you yelled at him, clinging to his shoulder and looking up at him with ire. "You could've hit your head!"

He looked down at you with a flat expression, or is that a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes? “Can't a husband cuddle his wife?”

You blinked dumbly, caught off-guard. “Yes, you can, but...”

His arms then enveloped you, fitting you on his chest and he sighed against your hair. “Then there’s nothing wrong with it. Let’s just stay like this for now.”

And so, that was how he decided to sleep throughout the night—with you on top of him, held close. You felt self-conscious as Zayne had never initiated this closeness with you since that night.

"Are you sure you want to sleep this way?" you wriggled a bit in his grasp.

He draped an arm around your waist, pressing his eyes shut. "Mm-hm."

"You..." A part of you recoiled at the vulnerability but decided to ask anyway. "Won't this be… a mistake...?"

That caught his attention, as Zayne's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you, who avoided his gaze with a pout and a torn expression, making yourself small in his embrace.

It dawned on him then that this persisting issue in your marriage was thoroughly his fault. His past was something he could never—and would never—trade for anything, but right now, you were that sense of peace that grounded him.

At one point, he has to let it go. These feelings inside him… they drive him to.

He softened, his gaze full of understanding as he gently brushed your hair back. "No," he said quietly, his voice tender. "We’ve come too far for it to be one."

Your clear, innocent eyes reluctantly met his, and at that moment something akin to clarity resonated within him.

He once thought nothing could ever mend the hollowness in his heart. And once, he indeed hoped that being with you would provide some form of relief or replace what he had lost.

But right now, feeling how vulnerable you were in his arms like this, he understood that you were not, and could never be, a replacement for anything else. Even before he realized it himself, what he felt for you was something entirely different— something dear that had grown and evolved into a genuine affection different from what he had felt for anyone else before.

Those times spent with you, wanting to protect you... Now that he reflected on it, it was never about filling a void, after all.

“I... want to treasure you better.”

Oh. Your heart thumped loudly as those words left his lips, warmth spreading through your entire being. Overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice, you clung to his chest, feeling a surge of love and a profound sense of being freed from the chains of insecurity that had taken you hostage all these years.

Most precious. Zayne smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“This time for sure... I will.”

And at last... he could say it without any lingering guilt.