#Cat Vomiting And Spraying

[cometkov]

i get the urge to write at the worst times. i have so many finals to study for and my hand keep gravitating towards my word docs.

[always-arrives-overdone]

my roommate’s cat and I have been in a war for the past week. here he is while I try to peacefully lie on the floor in my room. always watching. waiting.

[ddejavvu]

How about Tyler Owen's x scaredy cat where he catches her spraying his cologne on his pillows and one of his shirts because sometimes it's really hard to sleep without him next to her.

Pillow Talk - Tyler Owens x Reader

come participate in tyler owens night !

You'd hoped that the cologne in the air would dissipate by the time Tyler returned from loading up the car. He'd left only his toiletry bag behind, which had worked perfectly seeing as his cologne was tucked gently inside for you to scavenge for. You only used a few sprays, but they're strong and the scent is still thick and heavy in the air when he returns to collect his last few items.

"The wind's startin' up out there," He grins, thrilled that his current target is only a few hours' drive instead of across states, "I think this one's gonna be at least-" His nose wrinkles, and despite nodding coyly throughout his speech, he sees through your attempts to be nonchalant.

"'S that my cologne, darlin'?"

You cock your head to the side but he doesn't drop it, "I didn't bother puttin' any on today; don't need to smell good for Boone. Did you spray it, sweet thing?"

Your tongue wants to lie but your brain doesn't supply anything fast enough, so you're left with an awkward silence before conceding and nodding sheepishly.

"I didn't- I wasn't trying to waste it, I- I know it's expensive, but I just- it's for your pillow, because I, well, sometimes it's really hard for me to sleep when you're gone so I thought that maybe if your pillow smelled like your cologne then I could hug it and it wouldn't be so hard for me to fall asleep."

Tyler does an excellent job of listening along despite the second half of your ramblings being strung together into one almighty word-vomit. You cut him some slack when it takes him a moment to process, but he's surging forwards in no time, hurriedly but gently gathering you into his arms and tucking you snugly into his chest.

"Oh, darlin'." He murmurs, voice a hair thicker than normal as his large hand cups the back of your head and presses your face further into his chest. If he hadn't been hugging you you'd have assumed the worst of his silence, but you hear a deep inhale before he pulls away from the hug and takes you by the shoulders instead.

"Angel baby, don't do that to me," He pleads weakly, eyes red-rimmed and voice shaking, "Y'can't- y'can't go around tellin' me you've got trouble sleepin when I'm not here, that- that just makes me sad."

"Don't be sad," You hum, tears pricking at your own eyes at the sight of his, "It's- I just got used to being with you, that's all. I'll just take melatonin, or- or I'll lay off the coffee after lunch, or-"

"No, just-" He sniffles, aggressive like he's angry at his nose for running, groaning and squeezing your shoulders, "Use my cologne, baby, and I'll leave you one of my sweatshirts, and when you start gettin' sleepy tonight, you call me and I'll tell you all about Boone and Lily and Dani and Dexter, and- and all the crazy shit they say, and it'll be just like we're in bed together and I'm talkin' your ear off."

He finishes with a wobbly smile, one that's perfectly mirrored on your own face as you let out a soft, gentle sob. He's eager to pull you back into his arms and his large hands rub soothingly up and down your back.

"There we go, that's it," He croons, squeezing you tightly while you sniffle into his chest, "Poor baby, I'll be back soon. Shouldn't be longer than a day. I- I might even make it back tonight, who knows?"

"Don't rush," You mumble pitifully into his chest, "I don't want you driving all night through with no sleep, especially after a tornado. Just- just get home safe, okay? Not quick."

"Alright. Alright," He agrees, stroking once more down your back, "I won't drive through, but," He pulls away once more to stare down his nose at you, a stern expression on his face that typically isn't there when he's gazing at you. His hands hold your face in place, locking you into his scrutiny, "You can't stop me from calling you from the motel and talking you to sleep."

"Okay," You laugh, a thick, wet, pathetic sound that's mottled with the remnants of tears that Tyler wipes off of your cheeks, "Maybe- maybe around ten tonight?"

"It's a date," He grins, his hands gently shifting your face upwards so that he can crane down and kiss you, "What should I wear?"

"Something real sexy," You muse, barely able to fight a grin off of your face, "Maybe a thong?"

"I don't think Dexter would appreciate that, darlin'." Tyler laughs, your shared tears long forgotten, "If we're gettin' a motel tonight it's our turn to room together."

You bask in Tyler's laughter until it fades, the way he's still holding you close to his chest producing the same contentment. Finally you hum, "Thanks for letting me use your cologne, baby."

"Anytime." He vows, pecking a kiss against your forehead, "Don't be shy now, askin' for stuff like that. I'll do whatever I can to help you, darlin'."

You find yourself unable to speak, too overwhelmed by a mix of bashfulness and adoration. You sink into his arms instead, and he presses yet another kiss to your head, seemingly on a mission to cover your entire face before he leaves.

"And hey," He hums, the words thrumming against your nose where you nestle into his chest, "If all else fails, I'll bring home a thong for tomorrow night- we'll go so hard you'll sleep through next week."

[januaryembrs]

WHO'S AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME? | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [10]

description: the one with Cat Adams + the one where she tells him.

length: 13k

warnings: literally just watch 11x11, mention of vomit, blood, alcoholism. mention of pregnant wives??

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‘who’s afraid of little old me?

you should be,’

She remembered when she was little when she would wake up so early even the birds hadn’t uttered a morning chirp, her stomach grumbling because she usually hated the fancy stuff they had for dinner and ended up leaving it on her plate. She remembered thinking her mother would be no use, that Elizabeth would tell her to go straight back to bed, even if she whined and cried that she wanted breakfast, remembered thinking Louise, the au pair that usually took the morning shift, wouldn’t be in for another hour or so, and she certainly wasn’t tall enough to reach the cabinets yet. 

Which left her with Emily. 

Nineteen year old Emily, who was already in and out of the house with college, her hair a box dyed black, singed from all the crimping and hair spray. Emily, who liked to take her to the park even if she pretended she was too old, who played Barbies with her and helped her cut all their hair off probably because she figured that was better than her constant urge to do whacky things with her own locks. Emily, who had never wanted a little sister really until Elizabeth had brought home the carrier and suddenly she had never loved ten chubby fingers and toes so much.

She remembered waking Emily up, usually by pulling herself up onto her sister’s Mötley Crüe themed bedding and prodding at the girl’s shoulder until she stirred, how Emily would lead her down the long, ornate hallway into the kitchen, when the only sound in the house would be their bare feet padding along the cold tiles. How Emily would yank two bowls out of the cupboard, tipping a generous dose of coco pops in each of them, back when they were full of sugar and real chocolate, not the healthy crap they sold nowadays. 

It would just be the two of them at the breakfast table, crunching on their spoons, five year old Bugsy no doubt dribbling the brown milk down her chin and pyjama top, but she was happy. Because she had her big sister.

She stared down at the dregs of cocoa that whirled into the white milk as the cereal sat there longer, because she was only picking at it really, and it had nothing to do with the fact she was almost certain they had changed the recipe since she was little. 

“I was thinking,” She said after a moment or so, while Spencer pottered around the kitchen, fixing them both a pot of coffee that she usually was usually bouncing over to grab at this point in the morning. Except today she felt sluggish, lost in that maze of thoughts that only Spencer could really unpick, and the second she’d started speaking his head whipped over the counter to where she idly stirred her breakfast, “About what you said when Gideon… We could probably afford to start looking at buying a house soon, what with the mortgage rates dropping,” 

She looked up at him hopefully, hoping he couldn’t sense the hesitation on her breath because he usually knew what she was thinking before she said anything, and for once she wished he didn’t have that crazy ability to read her mind, only to see him with a small if not saddened smile. 

When Gideon had passed, Spencer had gotten in his head that they needed to leave the apartment, that if the Jason Gideon could have been caught unaware, then they weren’t safe either. Of course he hadn’t meant it, at least not entirely, but Gideon passing had spun the logic half of his brain that spouted the statistics that they were no more in danger now than they were before he’d gone, but still it was something he’d been thinking about. A house meant more space; more space meant they could stop tripping over each other's laundry, meant they could get the bigger shower they’d always talked about, maybe even a tub. A house meant the garden he knew he always wanted Niko and Sergio to have now they were grey around the whiskers and couldn’t run so fast. 

“I think that’s a great idea,” Spencer said, picking up their mugs of steaming hot goodness and carefully stepping towards her, gently sliding the drink over to her as the liquid sloshed and threatened to dip over the edge, “Is there any place you want to look?” 

He left his own mug in favour of circling his arms around her shoulders and pulling her in for a soft hug, her head falling beneath his chin where she sat on the barstool. 

Kissing her hairline gently, she heard him inhale her shampoo scent, and she plonked her spoon back in the bowl to wrap her arms around his waist, squeezing herself into every crevice that they weren’t already touching. 

“I don’t care,” She said, tilting her head to look up at him with love sick eyes, only to see him already besottedly gazing at her, and she guessed by the way his lips draw up at the corners that he didn’t realise he was still smiling, “Anywhere with you is good enough for me,” 

He looked down at her in that way he usually did, expression soft and sweet and entranced, but she saw the traces of worry in his gaze, “You feeling okay? Today is going to be… hard,” 

Bugsy’s expression faltered slightly, and she turned away to push her face into his stomach so he wouldn’t see the doubt lingering in her eyes. She nodded anyway, even though she knew he would catch her in the lie.

After Scratch, Hotch had ordered her to take three months off for a psych evaluation, had granted Spencer at least a month of holiday to watch over her because he knew Reid’s head would be all over the place with worry if he’d returned to work without her. It was like asking Garcia to leave her computers and fluffy pens at home; it just wouldn’t work. 

By the time she was cleared to come back, despite the recurring nightmares of that day still eating away at her sleep, Hotch had set her up to work solely from the office, strictly no field work.

He liked to think it was for her own safety, for her own good since he saw the way she pounded coffee like it was juice while Spencer lingered around her with a worried stare. But if he had to be honest with himself, Hotch couldn’t get away from the things Scratch had made him see just as much as she couldn’t. He couldn’t escape seeing her throat slit like she was a lamb for slaughter, the life leaving her eyes as she faded away. And it was the thought of her carotid artery spraying over his boots that made him want to lock her up in bubble wrap and never let her go. 

But that was feasible in their job, not really. So desk duty it was. 

“You don’t have to go with us into the field, you can always stay with Hotch and Garcia,” He offered, stroking her hair behind her ear and tempting her to look back up at him with gentle fingertips under her chin, and when she saw the unease in the muddy hues, she squeezed him tighter, knowing the past five months had been just as hard on him. 

“No, I want to,” She protested gently, her hands weaselling under his shirt and onto the warm, soft skin of his back, pawing at him like a cat trying to settle. “If you’re being made this woman’s number one target, I want to be there on stand by,” 

And he couldn’t really argue. Because no matter what frame of mind he was in, even if it had been him captured and tortured, he would never let her go out as bait and not be there breathing down her neck. 

He sighed, the urge to protest stuck in his throat and all he could think to do was bring his lips to hers gently in a soft kiss, because his resistance to her being put in the line of danger would only be futile. 

She hummed into the kiss, his hands skirting over her back and she swore she would be content if the rest of her life was spent in Spencer’s arms, in the warm mornings at their kitchen table just the two of them, and the idea of that last part spun her stomach into turmoil all over again. 

What if he freaked out? No, scratch that, he was definitely going to freak out. Spencer hated change, hated having things dropped on him, and Diana was already getting worse with the symptoms of Alzheimers she had begun presenting. He had more than enough on his plate as it was, and she knew she was the only thing that could keep his head from exploding with the worry, even if she was sometimes the cause of it. He’s always been a worrier, and part of her despised herself for the fact that he had shot out of bed every single night she’d been in the midst of a night terror, when the room spun and Peter Lewis seemed so real and so close and she woke up screaming. Because she’d brought him enough stress and trouble, and now she had an extra helping of it dished up and ready. 

It wasn’t one of those things she could keep to herself, not even if she so desperately wanted to sit on it and mull it over for a few months. She needed to tell him soon. 

Spencer looked down at her eyes, the way they’d glazed over slightly, and he wished he could crawl into the space where her thoughts bounced between one another if it meant he could figure out what had gotten her so twisted up the past few weeks. She hadn’t been herself entirely since Scratch, but she had been getting better. She’d started getting more sleep, seemed less jumpy when they were in the quiet of their apartment, and part of him thought maybe that was why she wanted to look at houses. A fresh start. And yet overnight, she’d had this guilty look in her eye like she was suddenly a million miles away, and he hated it. Bugsy had never been distant, which seemed odd to think considering she was burying her hands and face into him like she had no intention of letting him leave. But there was something in the depths of her brilliantly big mind that seemed to hold her tongue for her.

He kissed her again, hoping it was all in his head, hoping she wouldn’t keep things from him because it was them and they always told each other everything. Even if it was gross and weird and inappropriate, everything. 

And he thought maybe it was because he was going on a date with another woman, using himself as live bait to flirt and charm and seduce an assassin in order to take her into custody without fuss. Yeah, that was probably it. He couldn’t say he would be all too pleased if it had been the other way around and he would be watching her ravish another man even if it was just for the job. 

That was definitely it. There couldn’t be anything else. 

“You know I love you,” He said as a statement, yet she nodded as though it was a question, and he kissed her again because he’d regretted not doing it a hundred times a day the second he’d seen her in that closet, regretted not seeing the fact she was more than likely uncomfortable with her boyfriend of two years wining and dining a murderer. “Whatever I say when I’m there with her, you know I love you, more than I could ever love anything else,” 

He seemed so sincere, his eyes turning into that soft puppy like frown, and it only served to drive the knife in deeper as she nodded, her hands wrapping into his hair and pulling him down to kiss her again, this time just a little harder like his lips could wipe away the pit in her stomach. Because it was Spencer, and she was lying by omission, and god did she need him to know how much she loved him before things went wrong and they changed and-

“We have a little time right?” She said, his hands taking the hint as they pulled her to her feet gently, cereal long forgotten in a chocolate slush, and his hands reached down to cup her ass in the way he was more than used to doing now. Didn’t stop him from blushing however. 

“Y-yeah we have time,” He said, and she barely let him finish his sentence before she’d claimed his mouth again, not that he was complaining. She looped her fingers through his belt buckle, stepping backwards with his guidance towards their bedroom, and he hummed through a moan when he felt her run the other hand through his already messy bedhead, tugging on the ends of his curls gently.

“Good,” She responded, with a drop of that natural Bugsy cheekiness he was used to, and the sound of it made him smile. Maybe it was just the job after all, “I think I need a demonstration on just how much you don’t mean whatever you need to say to her,” 

He smirked, because she was more like herself than she had been in days, and god was she pretty when she smiled at him before they had sex, like she knew what was coming, like she knew what she did to him. He wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear his heart thumping in her ears just as clearly as he could. 

“I think you’ll need multiple demonstrations,” He said, his fingers looping in between her buttons on her trousers and popping them apart softly because they’d done this before, rushed it so they weren’t late for work, and ended up ripping good jeans, “Gather multiple sets of data before you draw a conclusion,” 

He kissed down her neck and her small laugh became a moan, “I think it’s pretty much the only way, Doctor Reid,”

He laughed, and she felt it against her pulse, the sound of it making her shiver as he shoved the door open with little remorse for the way it slammed into the wall. And she made a promise to herself that once they’d caught their UnSub, she would tell him, even if it meant all of this would change. 

–

He arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, his suit steamed and neat, a single red rose in his hand. His skin was already crawling at the idea of flirting with another woman, but Spencer knew none of it was real, knew he was just doing his job. Still it didn’t diminish the desire to glance where Bugsy and Rossi were sat in a booth, because he’d seen her in that red dress a thousand times before, and yet it still made his jaw drop the second he saw her in it.  

The brief had been black tie, something to fit in with the five star restaurant, and god had she delivered. He ought to have protested, told her that she was too distracting and maybe insisted she stayed in the office if she looked so striking, but then again she could have worn a bin bag for all he cared, he would still be fighting the urge to look over at her. 

He chose the seat with Bugsy at his back as to eliminate his urge to stare at her, because Dave could keep her safe, the rest of his team could watch her, he had to trust that. 

He lay the rose on the other side of the table, fiddling with the other parts of the cutlery to make sure everything looked perfect, even though in his mind he was thinking of all the things Bugsy would have been saying if she was his date tonight. She probably would have made a comment on his suit (she already had before they’d even stepped out the hotel, just as he’d given her arse a quick squeeze with cheeks even more crimson than her dress because she looked divine), probably would have offered to go to the in-and-out down the street instead because she never cared about splashing out on dates, just being with him was enough. 

Adjusting his jacket a little, he waited, trying to keep his head far away from his girlfriend, although that was much easier said than done. He couldn’t remember what his brain was like before it was filled with thoughts of her.

The ring sat in his sock drawer, buried in one of his older pairs that he hoped she wouldn’t go after since he’d made the mistake of putting it in with his boxers and almost got caught within a day when she went to steal some ready for bed and he’d chided himself for the sloppy work. He knew he wanted to ask her, thought he might even bring her to a fancy place like this, maybe prepare a small speech that attempted to tell her how much she meant to him even though he knew there wasn’t enough words for such a thing. Would he hide it in the cake? No that would be cheesy, she found cheesy overdone. Would she even like it done in public? No, she would hate that, he would wait until they got home, maybe even try that thing she’d wanted to do in bed for a few weeks, and then when they were done-

“Spencer?” A woman appeared at the table, a woman who by all accounts was objectively pretty, yet he felt that small kick of victory when he recognised her from the FBI database. 

Cat Adams. Assassin. Mastermind. UnSub. 

“Cat?” He said with practised naivety, and this time he forced all thoughts of his loving girlfriend from his head like they were about to be tainted by the woman standing in front of him, “Hi,”

“Hi,” She replied, her grin too bright and sparkly for anyone to ever guess she was a killer though he supposed that was the point,

“Hello, it’s nice to finally-” He cut himself off when she leaned up to hug him, her face drawing closer to his suddenly and she looked like she was gearing up for a peck on the lips. Forward. Much more forward than he’d given her credit for, and his stomach flipped in discomfort as he leaned away, “Oh s-sorry, I have kind of a germ thing,” He excused, which wasn’t a total lie. 

Also my girlfriend is sat ten feet away and I can already hear her clenching a fork ready to ball your eyes out like a melon, he wanted to say, though he kept his snark to himself. 

“Oh, sorry,” Cat said, holding her hands up in surrender, and looking up at him with what he knew to be false innocence. But he played along, because the sooner they caught her, the sooner he could be done with the entire thing.

“I’m kinda weird with hugs,” He explained, his face boyish as he gestured her to take a seat, because at least then he could put some distance between them, “Please, sit down,”

She smiled dizzily, slipping her jacket off to reveal a blue dress that accentuated her pixie short hair, her collar bones that could cut glass, her small, sleek figure, and she adjusted her straps as an excuse to divert his attention to her breasts.

“That’s like the oldest trick in the book, get some new material, bitch,” Bugsy mumbled under her breath, drowning her venom in sparkling apple juice disguised as champagne from where they sat in a dark corner booth and Rossi chuckled, shaking his head. 

“I wouldn’t worry about boy genius having a wandering eye, kid. Reid is more devout than my mother on Easter Sunday,” He said, picking at the starter they’d ordered as a way to seem busy. She hummed, diverting her attention into her chicken salad, making sure she wasn’t looking at the happy couple for too long as they talked awkwardly, “Do you think you could take her?”

“I know I could take her,” Bugsy responded in a clipped tone, and Rossi sniggered, and they heard Tara and Derek do the same down their earpieces. 

“It was a joke,” Cat said, to something they hadn’t quite caught, though by the looks of it they were still just making small talk, “A bad joke,”

“No, no, it was funny,” Spencer said reassuringly, and he chuckled, though Bugsy knew off the bat it was fake because she loved making him laugh and it sounded nothing like that. They fell into an awkward silence and she could hear Spencer scrambling for things to talk about because if she walked away their lead to the other assassin went right with her. 

“Can we start over? Hi, I’m Cat,” The woman said, fixing her skirt with a shy smile. She certainly didn’t seem like a killer, Bugsy thought, where she glanced at her in her peripheral. She certainly was pretty, spritely even. A little too eager to kiss a guy she just met. 

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” He replied, in that nervous tone he usually got when she flustered him. 

“Is it true you have three PHDs?” Cat asked with, well, cat-like eyes flicking between sly and seductive, and Bugsy could see how any man who wasn’t as smart as her boyfriend would fall for the act.

“Yes, that’s true. I do have three PHDs,” 

“What’s your favourite book you read last year?” She pressed and Bugsy sipped her juice to stop herself from answering for him.

“I’ve honestly never read a book I haven’t loved,” He said, deflecting the subject, while his girlfriend smirked into her almost empty plate. 

Demons by Fydor Dostoevsky, she corrected to herself because she knew he’d gone back to it more than a handful of times. 

“Tell me about your wife,” Cat went in for the kill, her timid smile morphing into something wicked as she watched Spencer squirm. 

And the second she’d said it something had reared its ugly head inside him. Because try as hard as he might, all he could think about was Bugsy’s face and that damn ring. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d er…” He cleared his throat, wondering why it was so difficult to get through a single conversation when they’d ran through the plan a million times. He knew she would ask, and yet all he could do was get defensive thinking about Cat damn Adams setting her hands on the woman he wanted desperately to marry, “I’d rather not talk about her,”

“Might as well get it out in the open right? I mean, it’s why we’re here,” She said smugly, like that innocent bounce in her step had wiped right away, revealing the murderess underneath, “How long have you been married?”

“Four years,” He lied, though he thought back to JJ’s wedding that same amount of time ago and how beautiful she looked in her dress and her cast and how he’d wished it was theirs. 

“When is she due to give birth?” Cat’s eyes narrowed at the man, pushing her hair behind her ear in a playful manner. 

Bugsy stopped, licking her lips and hoping Rossi wasn’t watching her as she finished off the last of her sparkling juice, raising a hand to a passing waiter to order a second round. 

“You having another one, Grandpa?” She said innocently, despite the stink eye he gave her and nodding to the non-alcoholic beer he’d ordered. 

“Watch yourself,” He said as the waiter retreated, and she snickered into her meal, “Grandpa will knock you on your ass,” 

“You would never, Hotch would hate that kind of paperwork,” She said setting her cutlery on the side of her plate to signal she was done, “HR would have a field day,”

“I wanna hear you say it,” The line crackled in their ear as Bugsy’s drink arrived at the table, and she couldn’t help but think the woman’s seductive voice could easily pass for a call girl. She chanced a quick look over at their table, her heart rate spiking when she saw the woman all but eye fucking Spencer with a bit of her lip, like the thrill of the chase was half the fun for her, and Bugsy felt the disgust settle in her stomach. 

“To have her killed,” Spence replied, and she looked away then, the bitterness settling on her bottom lip in a sneer. She didn’t think for one second that Spencer would think the woman was alluring, it didn’t make him flirting any easier to watch. 

The UnSub smiled wryly, looking down at his arm, “Let me see your ring,”

Spencer froze, holding his hand out hesitantly, the feeling of the gold band entirely alien on his finger even though he was trying to get used to it for the sake of the case. Cat’s hand shot out like a snake striking, holding his ring in between her perfectly manicured fingers, her eyes roving over the jewel.

“You know what that is?” She said with contempt, shaking her head, “A noose, only it doesn't kill you all at once it kills you slowly, day by day,” 

And he couldn’t have disagreed more, in fact the only thing that was killing him was the fact he had been dumb enough to wait so long to propose to the woman he loved more than life itself. 

Spencer Reid, dumb and in love.

“You ever feel that way?” She said, ripping him out of his thoughts, and he nodded wordlessly, sighing for effect.

“I feel that way all the time” Except his every day was spent wondering just how he ever got so lucky, how he managed to fall in love with the same woman who gave him apple cake when he couldn’t remember the last real meal he’d had because he was three months deep in an opioid addiction and having her look at him like he hung the damn cosmos. 

“Take it off,” She ordered, and Spencer tried flashing her a surprised if not charmed smile, though his hackles were slightly raised, “As a sign of your commitment. To me,” 

He bit his cheek, knowing better than to argue back if he was playing the part of the down beaten husband, and began twisting the gold ring off his wedding finger, handing it over to her expectant palm. 

“If she sticks to the pattern, she’ll take him to a secondary location and then kill him.” JJ observed, sipping on her mocktail in her own fancy, ruffled dress, shooting Tara and Derek a look where they played the part of a sweet couple on a date. 

“I’d like to see the bitch try,” Bugsy said through a wide fake smile, her face showing no symptoms of anger except the flash of teeth. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re not letting it get that far,” Rossi added, and the two of them clinked their drinks together in a ringing chink, “Hotch, do you two have a visual?”

Penelope confirmed with a few taps of her keyboard, and Hotch nodded as Spencer confirmed with a small flick of his eyes he could hear the feed, ”Alright, all agents stand by. Dr Reid will give the green light, don’t move until we have it,” 

“Twenty four carats?” Cat asked, twisting the ring in between her fingers with a smug grin like she already knew the answer. 

“Yeah,” Spencer replied, looking down at the band and back up the soulless dark hues of the black widow woman. 

“Twenty four k times… four years. Means this ring should be dinged and nicked, but,” She huffed, reaching into her purse under the table, and Bugsy damn near spat out her juice when she heard a gun load through the mic, “This sucker is brand new. You’re not married.”

“What was that, was that what I think it was?” Penelope’s stressed tone rushed through the ear piece, and the sound of it plus the smell of the chicken she’d just eaten made Bugsy’s stomach turn again. 

Except this time she felt it coming up into her throat, the same way she’d found herself feeling queasy for a few days. Spencer had thought she had a stomach bug, had tried to get her to stay home with some mint tea, but this was more than the last few times. It was like her anxiety clenched her gut in a tight grip and twisted painfully, and she lurched forward, slapping a hand over her mouth. 

“Kid?” Rossi said, his brows frowning at the expression on her face, and she immediately began untucking her napkin from her chest. 

She needed to make it to the bathroom now, hoped on everything that the sudden movement didn’t distract where Cat held a gun to Spencer’s midriff beneath the table. 

“What is she doing?” Morgan hissed into the mic, while Hotch and Penelope began barking protests. 

“Oh, good lord, Bug, stay down, you don’t know what that psycho is going to do!” Penelope squealed, watching Bugsy rush out of the booth seat, a hand firmly over her lips, and Aaron brought a hand to his head, a splitting headache forming at the sight of the youngest agent rushing for the bathroom. 

“Prentiss, what are you doing, you could blow your cover,” He snapped, though there was no anger there, and she could only switch her mic off for what was about to happen, knowing the team had much bigger things to worry about. 

Bursting the doors open, she dived for the nearest stall and fell to her knees, head in the bowl before she could hock up her guts over the floor, and then came a horrid retching sound. 

Spencer’s eyes widened at the table, hearing his team yelling out orders at the one person he couldn’t keep track of, and it took everything in him not to turn in his seat to investigate for himself what happened for her to flee the safety of the table, or go after her even. Because even if he wanted to, even if he needed nothing more than to make sure she was okay, he couldn’t move an inch. Not with the gun being pointed at all of his important organs by the experienced killer with a smile.

“Do you know why I’m so good at my job?” Cat asked in a sweet tone, her eyes cold and calculating as she cocked the gun beneath the seat. 

“Because you kill without compunction or remorse,” Spencer bit, the flirty look in his expression long gone the second he’d heard the rest of his team calling for his girlfriend. He needed to keep his head, Bugsy was safe so long as she was far away from the woman pointing the gun at him. Having the weapon aiming for him he could deal with. 

“That only gets a girl so far in life,” Cat agreed with a nod, her jaw setting in a hard clench, “No, it’s because I think through every possible outcome and then I plan accordingly,”

And Bugsy’s stomach seized hearing her voice so cold and viscous, and she would give anything to hear her partner flirting with that bitch of a woman if it meant she knew he was safe. She emptied her stomach again right as she heard their UnSub speak once more.

“You see, I didn’t walk into your trap. You walked into mine,”

And with that Bugsy gave another hurl.

–

“Spencer, why did you take time off from the FBI?” Cat insisted, her voice nails on a chalkboard, and he felt the apathy on his face flick into slight annoyance. 

Bugsy. Because Bugsy had been ill, because she hadn’t been sleeping, because she hadn’t been herself for a few months, because his mom had gotten worse, because they needed him. 

Spencer would take the bullet before he ever told her about Bugsy, because he knew for a woman who loved male attention, telling her about the girl he loved most in the world would only draw a big target on her back, and he would never dare to put her at risk. Never again. 

Not a single hair on her head, he’d promised. Not even a scratch. 

“You can ask me as many times as you want but I’m still not going to tell you,” He snipped, making sure to keep his face expressionless if he really wanted to sell the deal that she was a nobody to him.

Her mouth tightened in frustration, “Then you’re cheating, and I don’t like cheaters,”

“You don’t get everything you want just because you’re pointing a gun at me under the table.” He stated blankly, his team waiting on bated breath to see if they needed to send in their back up since JJ’s cover had already been blown. “You’re not the first killer to point a gun at me, you’re not even the first woman to point a gun at me. Sorry.” 

Cat’s smile shifted into something akin to a snarl, and she leaned forward on her elbows, and Spencer matched her challenge with cool ease. “You’re really gonna take this all the way, aren’t you?” 

And Spencer smiled wryly, because her composure was collapsing beneath her, “Yeah,”

“So am I,” 

“Dave, go,” Hotch ordered, and Rossi drew his gun beneath a napkin, shuffling to his feet, “Prentiss, where the hell are you?” 

And she knew she was wasting time, but her stomach had picked the worst time to flip. Perhaps it was the anxiety, or the pressure of a gun being pointed at her love, or maybe it was bad chicken. Either way her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton, her legs weak where she’d crouched on the floor, and she chided herself for not being able to pull it together when Spencer needed her. 

And as if her nerves weren’t rattled enough, she heard Spencer’s mic mute out, and she knew then that the time for sticking her head in the bowl and screaming at herself to get up was over. Spencer was in trouble. Two of their agents' cover was blown. With Tara and Derek sitting the opposite end of the restaurant, he was alone if Cat Adams decided to pull that trigger. 

Spitting the rancid taste from her mouth into the toilet, she reached up for the flush, wiping her mouth with a handful of toilet paper. 

“Hotch,” She tuned in, and she heard the sighs of relief as he and Penelope seemed to both ease slightly at hearing her voice, “I’m back, how’s Rossi?”

“His cover’s blown, he’s heading out to find JJ,” Hotch responded, his heart rate in his throat the second he’d heard her sound through. He knew it would be unfair if he pulled her from field work for another three months, but the second she’d disappeared from their screens, he’d already began thinking of the excuse he could give if it meant he knew she was kept out of harm’s way, “Where are you, are you hurt?” 

“No, no, just,” She cleared her throat, leaving the stall and heading for the sinks, “Bad chicken I guess,”

Taking a handful of cold water up to her mouth, she swilled the liquid around to try freshen herself up, sputtering it back into the sink and running the back of her hand over her lips. 

“Do you need to get out of there?” Hotch asked, the concern thick in his tone, almost as clear as it was on his brow as he leaned in to Penelope’s monitor, “Lewis and Morgan have got eyes-”

“No, I’m not leaving him out there,” She protested, leaning over the sink with an exhausted huff, “I can’t head back to the table, she’ll know I was with Rossi,” 

And as if she had spoken a plea to the universe, one of the waitresses waltzed through the bathroom door carrying glass cleaner and a bunch of fresh toilet paper under her arm, smiling sweetly at Bugsy who seemed like any other patron of their restaurant. 

Her eyes snapped over the girl’s body, figuring she was about the same size, perhaps a tiny bit bigger than herself, she almost audibly heard the click of the idea and before she knew it she had reached out to grab the girl’s attention. 

She just hoped it worked, because otherwise the scolding she was going to receive from Hotch wouldn’t be worth it in the slightest. 

“Here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna penalise you by adding ten minutes because I actually did learn something important.” Cat said with a smirk, her finger flicking over the clock on his phone as she prolonged the countdown, and Spencer squirmed where she shuffled closer to him, close enough that their knees were touching and he could feel where the toe of her heels were teasingly stroking up his calf, like threatening him and his team for information was getting her off. He felt filthy, like he’d need a dozen showers before he fell into his girlfriend’s arms, and part of him considered skipping the whole dinner and speech, asking her the second he saw her again if she would be his wife. 

Because this, having another woman so close, was making him sick. 

“Oh really? What’s that?” He snapped, his patience wearing thin as his lips pressed in a straight line. 

“Your back up, I flushed them out,” She replied with a smirk, looking around the room with an arrogance Spencer wished he could wipe right off of her face, “It’s just me and you now,” 

“Hi, how are we all doing this wonderful evening?” A chirpy voice came from the end of the table, slamming two menus down between them hard enough that their attention snapped to her immediately. Spencer felt his eyes morph into horror, though he fought hard to hide it, as he saw a familiar face, the same one that had been running through his mind since, well, forever. Her red dress was gone, replaced with a maroon shirt and a black pencil  skirt, her hair tied back in a neat bun and she had a pen pushed behind her ear for good measure as she smiled at them tightly. 

Bugsy had really done it this time. 

“My name is Emily and I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

–

“Prentiss, what in god’s name have you done?” Hotch barked, as she waltzed behind the bar, ignoring the looks from the barman that clearly had never seen her working there before. 

“I’m making sure Spencer has back up if she decides to get trigger happy,” She bit back, snagging a pitcher of water from the fridge and two crystalline glasses, placing them on an upturned tray. 

“And what happens if she gets trigger happy towards the waitress that won’t leave them alone?” Morgan snipped, shooting her a look where their table faced the long, walnut coloured bar that wrapped around the back of the establishment. 

“Well then, I guess we pray there’s a doctor in the house that isn't Spencer,” She huffed, plastering a fake smile on her lips, and carefully shuffling the tray onto her palm, “You’re going to have to take me out yourselves if you think I’m leaving him there alone,”

And they huffed, Hotch running a hand through his hair. Because they knew she wasn’t kidding. God help the man who tried to stop Bugsy when she had her mind to something. 

And with that resounding silence, she listened to Spencer’s mic, hoping to catch a foot in to the conversation.

“You should have seen right through me the moment you walked in, but you didn’t,” He said, and she didn’t need to take a glance at Cat’s face to know she was getting more than riled up. Why was she here? What happened to staying with Rossi where it was safe? It was her first day back in the field, what was she doing? He didn’t think he’d ever been so angry, though he knew if he scratched the surface of the feeling he’d find it was fear. And unfortunately for the woman sat opposite him, he’d stopped pulling his punches because of it. “You couldn’t. Because you can’t get to the man you really want to hurt, so you need to hurt every man who reminds you of him,”

Cat’s face flashed with what he could have sworn was hurt, before her eyes steeled back over and she shrugged nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t hit straight home, “That’s kind of boiler plate psychology, isn’t it? I’m just another girl with daddy issues,” 

“You’d be surprised how many killers do what they do because of their parents,” He snapped back, because he couldn’t dare take his eyes from their UnSub, no matter how desperately his gut told him to check on Bugsy. “If it’s so boilerplate, let's test that theory. How hard did you look for him?”

Her mouth screwed up in bitterness, “Very hard,”

“And how disappointed were you when you realised you will never find him?”  Spencer drove the knife in deeper, watching Cat’s resolve fade under his hateful stare, “You needed some other outlet for your rage and for a while this worked, but it also tripped you up,” 

And Bugsy stopped, because Spencer always had a way of saying the exact right thing that made her brain tick into genius, like everything about him made her the best version of herself even if he didn’t mean to. That was what tripped her up. Her father. 

“Hotch, it’s her dad,” She murmured, flashing a couple of customers an easy smile as she took the plates off their table, because Cat would catch on way too fast if she seemed to be the only person not be doing a job, “That’s what she wants, that’s her endgame,” 

And there was only a single second between them, before Hotch caught up to that wonderfully big brain of hers, “Serial killers with an endgame will do anything to get to them, even if it means taking themselves down with it,”

“Why would I make you sit here for thirty minutes?” Cat’s voice crawled down her ear piece as she burst through the kitchen doors, dumping the plates at the pot wash and looking to where JJ and Rossi were talking with the manager. 

“Because you’re stalling,” Spencer said, though he didn’t have that usual tone that told her he was sure of himself, and she knew from the direction it was going that something was missing. They’d missed something, otherwise they’d have Cat in cuffs by now.

“Then you don’t know me at all,” She hissed back, and Bugsy shook her nerves out through her fingers, peeking at where they were sat through the thin glass pane on the door, “Do you think I would show up here without an escape plan. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do? Maybe if you hadn’t fallen victim to your own gender bias, and yes all men have gender bias, even you Dr Reid, you would have recognized that your entire strategy was based on one faulty detail. Can you see it?” 

Spencer paused, his frown shifting on his face, “You’re not here alone,” 

“And my partner? Less paranoid than you think,” She said, and by the sounds of it the smirk was back on her face, and Bugsy fought the sneer twitching at her lips. 

“You planted a bomb in the building,” Came Spencer's response, the grave realisation setting all three agents into motion. JJ’s head whirled to where their youngest stood by the door, her eyes widening at her partner’s words. 

And for a second she wanted to beg Bugsy to take cover outside, to get out while she still could, because it had been a miracle the last time a building had exploded around her and she’d only broken a few bones. JJ didn’t think she could stand to grieve her for good, not the girl who had already gone through so much for them. All because they had missed it. 

But she knew better, knew Bugsy would fight tooth and nail to stay if Spencer was still in the building. Knew that that argument would only be futile, a waste of time, because the Prentiss girl was not leaving. 

“We’ll go check it out, you stay put,” JJ ordered, drawing her gun to her side as Rossi did the same and Bugsy nodded, “Don’t do anything stupid, don’t draw attention to yourself, Spencer knows what he’s doing,” 

And Bugsy paused before she answered, choosing to give them a slow nod because she already had a good idea of what her next move would be, and it absolutely did not involve staying put. 

Like hell she would stay put while he was there. 

With that, JJ and Rossi turned on their heel to head for the stairs leading underneath the building, and Bugsy picked the tray back up, right as Lewis burst through the revolving doors, a serious look on her primped face. 

“We need to evacuate,” Tara said, and Bugsy nodded, flicking a look behind her to where the rest of the kitchen seemed to be waiting on their order, because the second JJ had flashed the FBI badge, they had frozen.

“You get the customers out safely, I’m going to buy us some time,” Bugsy said, and Tara watched her slip through into the restaurant, the tray pressed against her stomach. 

This was stupid. Stupider than she’d ever been, but her thoughts struggled to make sense whenever Spencer was in trouble. And it was like she saw the splash of his brains against the table, the same way she’d seen it in Lewis’s house all on the ceiling, like she could see now just what his organs would look like when Adams shot him however many time in the abdomen. 

She couldn’t think like that. They would be okay, they would figure it out together, they always did. They always managed to put their heads together when they were in trouble. 

Being in danger together seemed like a much better bet than having to watch the love of her life killed in the middle of this damn restaurant because she hadn’t done anything. She wanted to do everything with him for the rest of her sorry life, and if that meant sitting at the nozzle end of a pistol with him, then so be it. 

She just hoped he would forgive her quickly. 

“All we want to do is-” She heard Spencer begin, the other waiters filtering out of the kitchen with shaken looks on their faces, as they carefully slipped their patrons the bill that had already paid off, asking them to leave calmly and quietly. 

“Minimise collateral damage, I get it, I’m not mad,” Cat snapped back, rolling her eyes, “It’ll give me the cover I need to slip out. I just need to know it’s clear, so do me a favour and tell your boss that nobody leaves until its safe for me to do so,” 

Spencer chewed his tongue. He couldn’t let her leave, not when they had her so close, not when they were pursuing Penelope, not when they were so close to catching the woman responsible for so many kills. 

Spencer hated losing, he hated knowing that she was about to get away because he had been too wrapped up in his overwhelming thoughts to figure out her plan, too busy fretting over the two women who meant the most to him to think ten steps ahead like he usually did. 

He’d been sloppy, even though he knew he should cut himself some slack. His fiancee, girlfriend, had been tortured, his mother facing a different kind of terror in her mind altogether. He hadn’t been thinking about work, he’d been thinking of the house they were going to buy with the picket fence and the porch swing and the mortgage, and the damn ring-

“Well?” Cat’s goading voice ripped him out of his reverie, and he huffed in defeat, “Spencer?”

“You can leave,” He murmured, the agitation scratching at his skin because he was struggling to think of a final card to play. He was usually so good at games, usually won every single one of them. But his head couldn’t settle when Bugsy wasn’t near, when he couldn’t make sure she was safe. 

Cat shuffled out of the side of the booth, her eyes flicking across the restaurant for her contact, and Spencer had barely opened his mouth in protest before he watched the UnSub walk straight into a waitress, a false smile slipping on her face as to not raise alarm. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” And yet his breath hitched when he spotted the hair he’d ran his fingers through just that morning yanked into a bun, the lips he could kiss for an entire lifetime curled in disdain, the body he worshipped refusing to move out of the way for the woman in a hurry. 

And it seemed Cat only realised that the woman who had brought them water wasn’t a waitress at all, despite her plain face that had faded into the background, despite the fact Spencer hadn’t given her a second glance; Only when she heard a gun cocking behind the serving tray at her stomach did the fake smile drop from Cat Adams face. 

Because she hadn’t flushed out Spencer’s back up. Not while Bugsy was still alive and breathing. 

“Sit back down,” Bugsy growled, keeping her tone low but with enough bite that Cat’s eyes narrowed to hide the surprise. 

“Well, well, seems I hadn’t planned for everything, I thought a pretty face like you would know better than to pull a gun on a woman with her finger on the big red button,” Cat said wryly, though Bugsy caught her eyeing up her chest as if to be checking for a bullet vest, “Move out the way, sweetheart. You don’t want this to get ugly,”

Spencer’s jaw flexed as he ground his teeth, though he kept his breathing even. What was she doing? 

He didn’t care that he had no more power over her than anyone else on the team, he wanted to drag her out of the room himself if it meant she would stop throwing herself in the way of danger. 

“Unfortunately, sweetheart, that’s not happening.” Bugsy snapped back, her expression melting into something rogue, something teasing as she leaned towards Cat with a challenge in her eyes. “You’re going to sit back down, and I’m going to show you exactly why you should have accounted for a pretty face like me,” 

“You’re stalling,” Cat snickered, trying to push past the waitress, who wasn’t a waitress at all but an FBI agent, only for her hand to shoot out and grab her wrist, tossing the tray on the table. 

Spencer felt his heart lurch into his throat as he saw both of them pull their guns to waist height, a blink and you’d miss it kind of movement, and it was like he’d seen the game set and matched then and there. 

Bugsy wasn’t backing down. And neither was Cat.

“I make it a habit of knowing what kind of women are going on dates with my boyfriend,” Bugsy’s hand tightened around her wrist, watching the surprise flicker in the woman’s eyes, and she scoffed, “What? You really thought all that flirting and nervous glances were real?”

And the woman said nothing, her ego clearly a little hurt, though Bugsy was just sticking to the profile, and the profile said she revelled in male attention. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Bugsy snipped through a grin, even if her chest was pounding at the feeling of the gun pointing at her abdomen, “Well, lucky for you I have a present for you. On the condition you sit back down and play my game,” 

“You think I’m going to fall for that shit?” Cat seethed. It was one thing to outsmart a man, that was fair game, that was easy pickings for a woman like her. But a woman, a woman who seemed to love playing with her food as much as she did. That was different, “What is it, a reduced sentence? The good TV in my two by four cell? You can keep dreaming, I don’t want your worthless promises,” 

“I’d hardly call your daddy dearest worthless,” Bugsy mused, and she watched Cat’s expression falter, “A dead beat drunk maybe, but worthless? A little harsh considering you waited so long to meet him,” 

Cat paused, eyes flicking over the woman’s face for any signs of a lie, “You have my father?”

And Bugsy smirked, “Do I look like I’m bluffing?” But her face was set in stone, and Cat hated to admit she seemed too confident to be lying, “Why don’t you make this a little easier for everyone and sit back down. I’m not done with you yet,”

The murderess scowled, her shoulders straightening as she ripped her wrist out of Bugsy’s grip and retreated back to the booth. 

And it was only then that Bugsy looked at Spencer, his eyes wide in a horrid mix of terror and rage, and it was a sight she swore she never wanted directed at her again. But she couldn’t leave him, he had to understand that. Because if all the bets were off, if all the cards were dealt, she knew he would need to be dragged screaming from the building before he left her to deal with a hostile UnSub alone. 

And Spencer knew that too, of course he knew that. Yet it didn’t diminish the sickening worry bubbling up in his chest as the women sat down at the table, and their game had a playing field. 

“So, I take it this is the darling wife you wanted killed,” Cat sneered, and Spencer didn’t dare take his eyes off the woman with the gun, even if Bugsy did have one pointed right back at her, “I don’t blame you, I’d want to be rid of her too,”

And they both knew it was a dig, a stab in the interest of getting them both riled up. But it wouldn’t go far. Because despite the anger Spencer felt dwindling in his chest, he always worked better with her. Like a puzzle piece in the tangle of his mind had clicked into place, and suddenly they were a team again, and she seemed more like herself than she had in months, an ease about the way she leaned back in the plush seat despite the fact her finger was resting on the trigger. 

“Have you ever played Cat’s cradle?” Bugsy asked her, knocking her knee against his as if she’d heard his thoughts. They were together in this. Together. Even if the building went up in flames and bullets and the plan went to shit. Just the two of them, the way they’d always been. 

And he felt himself ease back too, something akin to security shifting over him. They always were safer together. 

Cat’s eyebrows raised as Bugsy dodged her comment, “What, do you want to braid my hair like sixth graders, too? What about it?” 

Bugsy shrugged, reaching over with her free hand to the glass of water she’d set down for the two of them, “The way I see it, Cat, you have got those little paws caught in yarn and are scrambling to get out of it,” She chuckled, taking a quick sip, “Now, if we were to let you go, you’d end up walking out of here scot free, and who knows, might even blow up the whole building anyway. But, if we help you out of this little tangle you’ve got us all in, then maybe we cut a deal that doesn’t involve all of us going out in a ball of flames and champagne. Sounds good right?”

The woman’s lips pursed tightly, her head tilting in annoyance, “Alright. Get on with it, no one likes a show off. How did you find my father?” 

Bugsy smirked, “Well that was pretty easy once you have access to the files we have. We traced your birth record to a Daniel Adams, who did in fact leave the country in 1987 but returned in 2012. Based on confidential records in rehabs and sober living houses, which in turn pointed us to flophouses and soup kitchens.” 

The brunette’s eye twitched, like the girl had just spat in her face, which was what it felt like, and she felt the taste of her own medicine was just as sour as she’d always presumed. 

“He couldn’t put twenty four hours together sober, sweetheart,” Bugsy summarised, shrugging her shoulders as if it was no big deal to her, just another bum on the street, “You can probably imagine our surprise to find that he lives here in DC,”

“Where?” Cat hissed, and Bugsy snickered, shaking her head and taking another sip of her water. 

“I’m an agent, not a miracle worker. It wasn’t that simple,” She replied, boredly tracing her finger over the restaurants emblem they had printed on the napkin, “I found him on the street, showed him your picture and said I’d like to ask him some questions about his darling daughter,”

Cat’s lip pulled down in annoyance, her matt red lipstick smudging with her pout, “And?”

And perhaps Bugsy was being cruel. Perhaps she was playing into the profile that indicated Cat needed someone to match her wit and zeal if she was going to listen. Men, she could squash like bugs. Bugsy, ironically, not so much. 

Perhaps she was thinking about how she’d reached into Spencer's pants to retrieve his gun, and wanted some of what she was saying to hurt. 

“He didn’t even know he had a daughter,” Bugsy said simply, with a small shrug of her shoulders, and she watched the woman’s onyx brown eyes glisten with unshed tears as the realisation crashed on her, "Didn't really seem to care,"

“He-he didn’t remember me?” Cat asked, the tease that had been there half an hour ago wiped clear from her tone, and Bugsy shook her head. 

“Nope,” She said, popping the last syllable, “Alcoholism really rocks your brain. Sorry, honey,”

Adams scoffed, shaking her head with venom, “You’re not sorry. Sorry is what people say when they don’t understand,”

And Bugsy’s brows raised, a bitter empathy flicking in her gaze. Quick, but not so quick that Cat didn’t catch it, and she shuffled in her seat. 

“Oh,” Their UnSub paused, the trodden down look on her face rekindling with interest, “But you understand, don’t you? What, does your father like a good beer or ten, princess?” 

Bugsy snickered emptily, “Ofcourse I understand,” She said, leaning over the table to hold the woman’s glare, because like hell would she back down just because Cat was treading on home ground, “I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. He picked the hot wife and holidays to Aruba over his little girl and he thought a new pony or two would make up for all the times he forgot Christmas. I can’t even remember the last time he sent me a birthday card on time, and yeah he was a bit of a mean bastard once he'd had a whiskey,” She shook her head with contempt, and she felt Spencer knock his knee against hers gently, but she only watched the viper woman with careful eyes. And to her shock, Cat seemed like she understood her, like she had some kind of respect for her telling the truth. “Don’t look so surprised. I’m very good at making sure old guys like that get what’s coming to them. Or is that just what another girl with daddy issues would do?” 

Cat’s face seemed to shrivel in frustration when she heard her words repeated back to her, “Is that really why you came here today? To help me?” And Bugsy tilted her head, knowing their UnSub was running out of time, that her window of opportunity was closing with the patrons of the restaurant getting antsy to leave. “Do you know how many men have told me they want to help me?”

Letting her expression smooth into empathy, she leaned forward, her tone dropping into a hushed murmur, “That may well be true, sweetheart, but from where I’m sitting, I’m not a man,” 

And Cat paused, something like regret drifting over her face, before she spoke again, “Do you want to know how that worked out for them?” 

And with that, JJ and Rossi watched the C4 charge’s switch to green, indicating their line was live and ready to blow. 

“Hotch, she just armed the bomb,”

Bugsy’s expression dropped an inch, the sight of it making Cat’s lips curl into a cheshire smile. 

“You’re not the only one with a loyal partner, honey,” 

But the Prentiss woman was quick on her heels, watching Morgan and Tara rise from their place at another booth, heading towards a woman sitting at the bar on her phone, and she forced her lips together to stop herself from looking too smug to cause suspicion. 

“It seems so,” Bugsy agreed with a nod, handing her gun off to Spencer beneath the table. 

If he was confused, he didn’t show it, probably because he trusted that big brain of hers with everything in him, even if he was mad enough he could feel the annoyance oozing from his hot cheekbones. Yet to the rest of the restaurant, Cat Adams, included she hadn’t moved an inch. 

“But, there is one thing I can guarantee about this partner of yours,” She said, leaning over to pour herself another glass of water casually. 

Cat hummed in content, “Oh, right? What’s that?”

And Bugsy smirked, barely raising the glass to her lips as Morgan pounced on the Bomber, ripping the phone out of her hands and causing the patrons around her to yelp, “She’s sure as shit not as clever as me and my husband,” 

Cat’s head whirlled around to see her partner’s face slamming into the hard wood of the bar, Tara yanking the cuffs from her belt, and she barely had time to flick back to the two agents facing her before a pitcher of ice cold water was thrown in her eyes, her thick mascara running down her cheeks and blurring her vision. Spencer dove over the table and grabbed her gun from her grasp as Bugsy ripped her out of the booth with rough hands. 

She threw her to the ground in the few seconds she was disorientated, her hands tightening around her wrists as make shift cuffs, and she saw Spencer hurrying to grab the real things from his pockets. 

“That was a cheap shot, you’re a cheater, you said you’d play fair,” Cat barked, her cheeks pressing against the rough carpet as the agents cuffed her, ignoring her protests and shoves. 

“Honey, this is me playing fair,” Bugsy snapped with a cruel smirk, “You threatened my friends, you stuck your hand in my boyfriend’s pants, and pointed a gun at him. Believe me I could have done so much worse,” 

And with that Cat Adams was hauled off the ground by the two of them, as they led her out to the police van waiting outside the restaurant. 

–

The doors pulled open, empty, and Cat’s face dropped, because her only silver lining on the entire outcome had been that she’d be able to meet the dead beat dad that ran out on her. 

That agent’s face had been so genuine as she’d said it. It had seemed so real, and yet… 

“You lied to me,” She said as Bugsy set her down on the bench, Spencer pulling another set of handcuffs from his belt and the two of them looked up at her, her lashes lining with disappointment. 

“If it helps, we really did try to look for him.” Spencer said, his tone blunt because she had a crazed look in her eye he didn’t like one bit the second she stared at his girlfriend.

And even though she was the one in chains, heading for prison for a twenty year sentence at the minimum, she laughed. Cackled. 

“It doesn't matter anyway, I still won,” She said, that venomous gaze turning to Spencer because she had learned atleast two thing in the time she’d been sat with the two agents that ruined her life. 

One. Spencer’s mother had Alzheimers, that he hadn’t been lying about. That she was sure was too real to be a story he’d pulled out his ass. 

Two. The girl wasn’t phased by insults or bites or cruel words directed towards her. Yet when it was at Spencer…

“How do you figure that one?” Bugsy said, her brow furrowing as she shook her head at the woman.

“In ten years, Mommy dearest won’t remember anyone’s name,” Bugsy’s head shot up at that, her lips curling into a snarl, and she forced her fingertips into her palm to stop herself from throwing a slap at the woman’s face, “But I’ll remember yours,” 

Bugsy daren’t react, no matter if her chest boiled in anger at the woman’s callous words. Spencer had to give that information up, give a small bit of his soft underbelly to get the woman to trust him enough not to shoot. 

And she couldn’t exactly blame him when he rose to his feet, darting out of the van with a clenched jaw, because the day had been an entire shit show, and she knew by the growl of annoyance he let out that their was a big conversation looming over her head, one she could only see ending in a fight.

It was just the two of them in the van, Cat entirely bound to her seat, and her painted lips had pulled into a grin the second he’d stormed off, her sleek eyes snapping to Bugsy who looked ready to slit her throat. 

“Oh, come on Princess, it was tit for tat,” Cat shrugged as if she didn’t seem destroyed, “You took my dad from me, I guess I had to do the same for that hubby of yours,”

Bugsy looked down at her, swallowing her rage with a purse of her lips, feeling her breath rattle with unfiltered animosity.

“You’d make a shit profiler, for what it’s worth. What you profiled about him was all off,” She snarled, stepping away from the woman and looking down at her as if she was shit on the bottom of her shoe, “At least he’s going to make a better father than the bum who would rather sleep on concrete than know you,”

And with that she slammed the doors closed behind her, darting off on Spencer’s heel. 

+1. The one where she tells him.

She saw his stress lines, the way the day’s events had weighed heavy on him. He sat on the sofa, his shoes thrown by the door after a tense drive home, and she'd found a space on the coffee table in front of him.

He was quiet, he had never been quiet with her, not in the years since they’d kissed that first time in her room. He wasn’t one for the silent treatment, she knew that much. Yet he was just that. Silent.

“Are you mad at me?” She asked, her voice that of a child as her brows scrunched together in worry. She felt the words bubbling in her throat, the thing she’d needed to tell him for a week gnawing at her tongue, crawling it’s way out, only she worried that after what she had done, he might just be ten times more annoyed at her throwing herself in the line of danger. 

He stayed quiet for a moment, and she thought this might turn into their first real fight in the two and bit years they’d been together. Her skin went cold at the words that loomed over them, and she knew by the way he sighed alone he was pissed. 

“You can’t do that,” He said, his voice a restrained bite, and he shook his head for good measure, “You can’t put yourself in the way of danger again, I can’t do that again, not after Scratch.” 

Her throat closed up with tears, and she glanced at him, her fingers itching to take his warm hands in her own, her body begging to preen into him, have him kiss her and tell her he wasn’t mad, that he still loved her, that everything was okay. But he wouldn’t. Not because he didn’t feel any of that, of course he still loved her, but the wet that lined his lashes told her all she needed to know. That seeing what Scratch had done to her had scared him enough that even the idea of her coming close to a hostile UnSub with a loaded gun, that straying from the plan that was designed to keep everyone safe, had tipped him into a grey area that had him both wanting to hold her close and never let her go whilst yelling at her in that broken cadence to show her just how hurt he was. 

“I’m sorry, I just-” She choked, her eyes becoming watery and pathetic and she hated crying during arguments, not wanting to look weak but that was exactly how she felt. Weak. Like she had no backbone to lean on because she knew she shouldn’t have intervened, but the snake-like woman undressing her boyfriend with her eyes while cocking a weapon at him had pushed her over the edge. 

“Oh, you’re sorry, that makes it much better,” Spencer shook his head, furrowing his brows and it was only when he leaned forward that the salty hot tears dribbled down his cheek. “You- you can’t just do that, Bugsy, you know that right?”

She nodded, the words building in her trachea like word vomit, like she wanted to scream the confession at him that she should have given him the second she’d found out. “I know, I’m sorry,” She said again, her words entirely warbled with guilt because she’d never seen him so distraught, and she thought back to the horror that had spread on his face when she’d sat down. 

“You can’t do that to me, sweetheart, do you understand?” His tone had shifted, something a little softer and he grabbed her hands tightly when her shoulders hunched together, and she leaned forward to try to hide her cries in her lap, sitting silently like a scolded child, “What were you thinking? You just got back into the field today, you could have been hurt, you could have gotten someone else hurt-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She sniffled, her expression truly guilty, because everything he was saying was exactly true, she could have gotten him shot. “I didn’t think, I wasn’t thinking, I just was worried that…” She trailed off, her heart rate spiking when the words almost slipped from her tongue. She couldn’t tell him, not like this.

“What?” Spencer pressed, because he didn’t like the look of whatever had just passed over her face, and she shook her head in denial, “Bug, tell me,” 

“No, I can’t,” Her breath clogged in her chest, coming out in a shaky rattle, and it was then that he leaned forward even more, trying to dip his head down to catch her eye, "Not like this,"

“Please tell me,” He begged, his eyes still stinging where another wave of tears threatened to burst at the seam when she shook her head again, her chin pressing down into her chest because he hated this. He hated arguing with her. “I’m sorry I yelled, I didn’t mean to, honey, I just got- worried.”

“I know,” She said quietly through another sniffle, rubbing her cheek on her shoulder to dry it, “I know, I’m sorry I didn’t think it through I just,” She took a deep breath, because she knew she needed to tell him, knew there was no more running from it. 

He lifted a palm to her cheek, his thumb skirting under her eyelashes, and he forced himself together because he could never stand to see her cry, not when it was partially his fault, “What?” 

“I just can’t do this without you,” She murmured, her heart in her throat, and it only made it difficult to swallow. She chanced a look at Spencer, his eyes wet and red and worried as she continued, “I can’t be the one to tell this kid their dad died because I didn’t do anything,” 

“What..” He started, his brows immediately falling into a frown as he looked at her. She swore she could hear every single contraction of her heart muscles in her ears, the blood rushing through her veins making it sound like waves crashing on a shore right in her eardrum. 

“It’s still fixable,” She jumped in, before he could say anything, like she needed to justify immediately what she’d said, or even just talk to fill the silence because she hated not knowing what he was thinking, “It’s only five weeks along, I still have time to… fix it-”

“Five weeks- you-you’re pregnant?” Spencer’s eyes were wide, with horror or shock she had no idea, nor did she want to find out judging by the way he had turned pale, reading between the lines, “W-What- fix it? Is that what you want to do?” 

She stopped, because he seemed to be keeping a lid on his emotions, trying his hardest to sound calm and somehow that made it all the more worse. Because she would rather him get angry, or get frustrated and tell her this was too soon, or tell her there was no way he was ready to be a father, because at least then the pressure of it wasn’t on her back to decide for both of them. 

But he would never, and she didn’t know why she’d ever second guessed him. He wasn’t yelling, or turning away, or leaving her the second things got tough, because it was Spencer. And Spencer would never. Spencer gave her the choice of what she wanted to do. 

She stopped, her lungs suddenly feeling just that bit tighter, as she shrugged pitifully, and she thought this was perhaps not the most ideal way to tell someone you’re pregnant, “I-I don’t know, I think…” She stopped, because what did she think? She’d been so wrapped up in worrying about what Spencer would think, worrying about his mom and her nightmares and Cat God Damn Adams that she hadn’t even let herself entertain the thought of a little them. 

But if she said she didn’t like the idea of a little boy with Spencer’s hair and glasses and smile, if she said she couldn’t see the photo album his mom had handed her full of pictures of their kids butt naked and watering the flower beds, she would be a liar. 

“I think… it would take a lot of work, I mean it’s a baby for christ sakes, Bugsy, of course it’ll take work,” He nodded slowly as she chided herself, but she felt his hands tighten on hers, and the tiny gesture gave her the encouragement she needed. She took another breath, that boy with brown curls and her eyes in a jedi costume flashing through her head, “But.. I think having a mini you is everything I could have ever wished for,” 

His lip quivered for a minute, and she worried she’d said the wrong thing. And then…

He smiled, wider than she’d ever seen him, like she could count every single one of his teeth, and she copied him despite the way a frog leapt into her throat, and she saw his eyes line with a fresh set of tears. 

“Really, we’re really doing this?” Spencer asked, quietly, like someone could hear them, or perhaps he couldn’t believe himself even as he said it. He thought his chest was about to explode, thought his heart could never love someone so much as he loved her, thought it would never beat the same way again as it had before he’d been told he was going to have a baby with the woman he’d been in love with for nearly nine years. She nodded, her shy smile turning into something happy, maybe even excited as he pulled her in for an achingly sweet kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks as he kissed her lips over and over and over again, ignoring the salt that trapped in her skin, and he realised then he had started crying just as much as she had. Two wailing saps sitting in their living room, happier than they’d ever dreamed they were allowed to be. “I love you, I love you, I love you more than anything, I was so stupid, I’m so sorry I shouted-” 

She chuckled, shaking her head, and drawing him back in for a long, silencing kiss, “I was stupid, very stupid.” Bugsy said, the weight lifting off her chest like a dumbbell had been moved, and she could breath again. Because Spencer kissed her like he wanted to merge their bodies into one, like he didn’t care for breath anymore as long as he had her lips on his, and she couldn’t help think if that was what he thought of her too, “No more being stupid from either of us. Kid’s got to have at least one smart parent,“

He smiled, enough joy in his eyes to make her think she was handing him the universe. And yet that was exactly how he felt. Like everything he dreamt of as a kid, when he was in his room wishing his dad had stayed because sometimes looking after his mom was tough on a twelve year old, or when he’d held Henry for the first time and thought maybe he wouldn’t be terrible at it by the time it was his turn. 

He looked at Bugsy, the idea of their kid growing inside her, about the size of a petit pois pea at five weeks, and Spencer damn near felt like he’d won the lottery. 

And all thoughts of Cat Adams were gone from both of their minds, the viper woman she wished she had gotten a good right hook to when she’d had the chance entirely unimportant now. 

Because they were going to be a family, more so than they already were. And Bugsy felt as though she couldn’t love Spencer any more than she already did, but she could love his baby more than she’d ever thought possible. 

--

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[delopsia]

every storm runs out of rain | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 17,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader, Hanahaki disease, soulmates AU, childhood friends to lovers, alcohol, food mentions, vomiting, first kisses, thunderstorms, (temporarily) unrequited feelings, almost kiss, unprotected sex, eventual happy endings 🌹. Vaguely based on the Gary Allan song of the same name. Brief Summary: It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, and yet, your tattoos don't match. You're not made for each other.

It's hard to tell if the feelings started with the stuffiness in your lungs or if it's something that has always been there. 

An indescribable sort of longing that has flown beneath your radar for the better half of a decade. The kind of thing that has let you assume a false sense of comfort under the title of childhood friend. 

Best friend, if Rhett has a few drinks buzzing through his system. Two shining plaques with your name written across them in bold letters.

But neither of them are what you and your dumb heart crave. The pride of being called his significant other is a feeling you will never know, so long as your tattoos are around to remind you that they don't match. So, so close in nature, and yet, they're not the same. 

It's a cruelty you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The perpetual ache of your heart, longing for a man who was never meant to be yours. Everything about him is as if he's made for you, so perfect he could fit into your life like a puzzle piece, and yet fate has destined him and you to fall in love with strangers. Not each other. 

Never each other. 

That tickling rises in the back of your throat. Snowballing larger and larger until you can no longer—

A horn blares. 

Your head jerks back toward the street just in time to see the passenger door of an old GMC squeal open. Rhett. Leaned all the way across his bench seat, hair in his face and all. 

"Y' comin' or not?" He chirps, already beginning to impatiently pat on the cloth seat, beckoning you in like he would a stray cat.

In this cold little town, your heart burns a little warmer.

How he got here so fast, you'll never know, but you've never been more thankful for it. Water splashes beneath your feet, darting toward his truck and away from the crowd of people raging on behind you. Up into your designated place in his passenger seat, slamming the door closed before you've even gotten settled, effectively shutting off the thumping music and flashing neon lights.

"How did you know where I was?" Because last you recall, you never told him about where you were headed tonight. 

Rhett just hums, the noise lost to the rumble of his truck engine. "Recognized the floor in the picture y' sent." 

Of course, that would be one of his many odd talents. 

"Being able to identify a bar just from the floor tile might mean you have a bit of a drinking problem, Cowboy," your eyes roll, shifting to rest against the door. 

"Listen," the streetlight catches in his eyes, lighting them up with a memory, "that checkered pattern is cute 'til your head stars spinnin'." 

He's...got a point. 

Ugh. 

The silence that falls into the truck is a comfortable one. It's the kind of quiet that lets you hear the impatient drum of his fingers, dancing to the soft drone of his radio set to an old country station. Backdropped by the sound of water spraying beneath his tires, washing away weeks upon weeks of built-up dirt from the ranch. 

His whole truck could use a good wash, but it won't see a bucket of soap and water until he scores another date with some no-name from the rodeo grounds. Or alternatively, you show up in the middle of the night and scrub it from top to bottom.

Your phone lights up with a text asking about where you went. Sent from some guy you cared so little about that you haven't even bothered to save his number in your contacts. But as you move to unlock the screen, it opens up to a different set of messages. 

You: Nothing quite like being stuck at a bar, waiting on your designated driver to decide she wants to leave. 10:47 PM

Rhett: What's wrong? 10:51 PM

You: I told a guy I didn't want to dance, and he 'accidentally' spilled his drink on me 🙄  10:51 PM

You: But my ride doesn't want to leave for another hour or two. 10:52 PM

You never noticed the message that was sent right after yours. 

Rhett: On my way 10:55 PM

Maybe not every man in this world has gone to shit. 

Rhett's hand bumps into your chest, some kind of gray fabric balled up in his hand, "here."

You've seen this old shirt before; it's the first thing he ever bought online, hadn't realized until it arrived that it was a few sizes too big for him. Not particularly ideal for a cowboy who can get caught on equipment, but perfect for your impromptu sleepovers.

"You still have this old thing?" You're already beginning to tug your damp T-shirt over your head. Potential onlookers be damned, you're ready to be free of the overwhelming whiskey bitterness reeking from it.

The back of his knuckles graze up your naked side, guided by the thin path of a decade-old scar. A branding from younger, brighter days; the ones when Cecelia would let you spend weekends on the ranch. Waking up at dawn to help Rhett with his ranch chores because the quicker things got done, the sooner you got to run down and play in the creekbed. 

"Still can't believe that piece of glass marred ya like that," Rhett mutters after a long moment. You can't see into his thick skull, but you've got a feeling that he's got a similar memory flickering through his mind. 

"To be fair, I did fall on it," slipping your arms through the clean shirt, you pull it over your head, and once again, that old scar is out of sight. 

That half-hearted chuckle sends a warmth rushing through your veins. The exact one that shouldn't be there. But he hasn't the slightest clue of the wildfire sitting next to him, back to tapping along on his steering wheel as he drives through the main stretch of town. Past feedstores, tourist shops, dinners, the grocery store, and every other little niche boutique hidden between. 

"Thank you." You hardly recognize that it's you speaking. Hadn't realized it was your voice until the sound of it met your ears.

It's a little too quiet in this truck.

But Rhett just reaches over to shake your shoulder. "Y' don't gotta thank me for shit like that," for a fleeting second, he's got just enough time to look away from the road and offer you a lazy smile. "'s what friends do, ain't it?"

Your chest feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Meek, you nod, attention suddenly on the floorboard and nothing else—nothing else to say. 

Yeah. That's what friends do. 

He doesn't make mention of it, but you've got the feeling that your SOS text must have interrupted another one of his dates. A pile of rose petals rests at your feet, scattered as if they've been swept off the seat in a hurry to make space. Caked in mud and the rainwater that tracked in from your shoes. Storebought, that much you know for sure.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. 

The next time you see him, it's planned. 

You have, for some reason, allowed yourself to become roped into the craze of Wabang's beloved Sugarbeet festival. Right smack dab in the middle of some old ranching land that the county bought some years back. It would have been a pleasant idea if the festival was hosted in spring or autumn and not in the blistering heat of summer. Not an ounce of shade to be found, nothing but cheap tents to protect you from the beating sun. 

It's the kind of misery that makes the outdoors feel like a goddamn oven, and heading out to start your car is its own kind of devil. The air jammed in your AC blasts your face with the boiling winds of hell itself. So damn intense that if Rhett's truck weren't crawling down your driveway, you would have canceled and called it a day.

And you're so glad that you didn't, because good lord. 

The last thing you expected was for Rhett to hop out in that unbuttoned flannel, broad chest on display for all to see. The sleeve falls just far enough from his shoulder that you can see the scar hiding below his left collarbone. 

"Quite the festival outfit you've got," you chirp, dragging your eyes away from his bull tattoo and over to a nearby tree, feigning interest. The back of your throat is starting to tickle, lungs tight as you fend off the urge to cough. Not here, not here, not here.

He laughs, "What, y' don't think I look good like this?"

You do, but he doesn't need to know that. Not in the slightest. 

"Its...certainly a choice," faking a grimace, you turn your attention back to your car, slowly but surely growing cooler the longer it runs. A pleasure that Rhett and his broken air conditioning unit haven't known since last summer. 

You don't mind the idea of it staying broken if he keeps showing up at your house looking like this. Even if that does mean that you become his ride on the hotter days, fearing an onset of heat stroke. 

The passenger door is silent as he opens it. No longer squealing due to whatever he and Royal did to it last weekend. Being friends with a family of DIY ranchers has its perks. 

Thunk_

"Shit." 

You blink. Was that...?

Yeah. 

It was. 

As if last time wasn't enough of a lesson, Rhett's got his knees pinned up against your glovebox, the seat too far forward for him and his big body to fit. Though this time, he isn't hurriedly pawing at the seat levers like he'll die if he doesn't get any more space. Instead, he's resigned to a frown. More annoyed with himself than anything.

"You alright there?" 

Rhett's sigh is so heavy that his shoulders visibly deflate. "Yeah," reaching off to the side, pushing the seat back as far as it can go. "Humbled, but 'm alright."

It's toward the end of your drive that you notice the flower petals sitting on your dashboard. Roses, you think. It must be what you get for leaving your windows rolled down all morning, vulnerable to adventurous squirrels and other varmints that enjoy trespassing into property they don't own. 

They're certainly not from you, and you would have asked Rhett if your destination hadn't come up so quickly. Fighting for a parking space in the withered grass is a bigger task than folks let on. Even with folks on the ground, pointing you to the perfect spot, someone will always try to steal it out from under you. 

For a festival in such a small town, there is a hell of a lot going on inside of it. Food trucks, concession stands full of sweet treats, craft booths, and cheap knick-knacks bought offline to resell under the guise of being handmade locally. Apple bobbing, the duck pond, and ring toss. There's a precariously placed dragon roller coaster and a horse carousel that Rhett tries convincing you to get on. 

Worse. There are so many people. Faces you recognize and those you've never seen before. Waiting in lines and shoving themselves between you and Rhett because the small gap between your shoulders looked like a good opening to get somewhere quicker. 

"'s a lil crazy out here, don't ya think?" Rhett's asking through a laugh, once again stepping over to you. Two kids dart between you, their hands occupied with bags of fake goldfish. 

Only took a decade for them to learn not to hand out live fish. You can still remember the three you and Rhett got when you were small. One didn't survive the drive back to his house, and the other two managed to stick around long enough to see New Year's. 

Rest in peace, Goldie Junior and Patches.

"I think it's always been crazy," tilting your head to cough into your elbow, dislodging that goddamn tickling sensation—you look away before you can see what it is. 

There's a girl off to the side, staring in your direction. Or rather, Rhett's direction. Long, wavy hair and a delicate sundress, the kind of woman who looks like she's walked right off the beach cover of a magazine. Her warm gaze has long since settled on Rhett; it's a look you've seen a million and one times at the rodeo. The one that gets him a little weak in the knees.

You look away as quickly as they flickered over there. If you don't make eye contact, maybe she won't come over to introduce herself. 

"We weren't that bad, though," but then, pausing to look at you, concern lacing his narrowed gaze, "...right?" 

Rose-tinted memories flicker through your mind. Rhett falling and breaking his wrist after taking you out on a green horse. Trespassing onto the Tillerson property to play with Luke and Billy, only to get hauled home in the back of a police cruiser, 'cause their momma didn't care much for you two. Getting busted, sneaking out your bedroom window to go spend the night with Rhett. All those times, you had to run through back alleys together because you'd been caught out after Wabang's curfew. 

"I like to think we were relatively well-behaved," concluding after a moment. Though your families may have a vastly different opinion on that. 

Laughter rumbles from you at the same time it does from Rhett, shoulders bumping together. Sends a little shock of warmth rippling through your bones, twisting around your heart like briars.

Maybe the conversation would have lasted longer if you didn't get distracted. Rhett lays eyes on a truck dedicated to a locally crafted beer, and the small frame of a self-serve station from the local candy shop catches your attention. It only makes sense that you would step aside and regroup in a few minutes. You're in desperate need of a breather before that girl works up the nerve to approach him and turns you into a third wheel. 

There's more to this little station than what initially met the eye. It's shelves full of caramel apples, peanut brittle, fudges of every flavor you can imagine, covered pretzels, cookies, and hard candies galore. And here you thought that it would have been wiped clean by the folks who came early in the morning before the sun could reach mind-numbing temperatures. Even your favorite candy is here, the last box left on the shelf.

The price is a little steep, but the flavor of them on your tongue is enough to distract from the pained cries of your wallet. If Rhett knew these were here, then he absolutely would have skipped out on beer in favor of convincing you to split them together—the candy mooch. 

But you must have taken too long to make your decision because you don't see Rhett. Not by the crudely decorated truck, and he said he would be waiting next to the old wooden bench under the oak tree, but it's entirely empty. Not a cowboy in sight. That stuffiness arises in your throat again. 

Maybe he's...

"Hey!" A herd of kids are darting around you. Like a bunch of cats scrambling from the bang of a tractor. One slams into the side of your leg as she rushes past. It doesn't affect her in the slightest, but your feet stumble. Knocked off kilter. Your open container of candy threatens to spill onto the dirt. 

 But then another kid is bursting through the crowd, and this one... 

You recognize this one. 

"Amy?" 

She doesn't need to say a damn thing. Her wide eyes tell all you need to know. 

The crowd is too tall for her to see over it, but as she tugs you along behind her, you've got the feeling that she knows exactly where she's going. Navigating the festival based on terrain alone, over thinly spread gravel, and down a broad dirt path. Her hand clings to your wrist so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. 

You don't know who she's bringing you to or what could have happened. But it has to be something. Perry could have fallen into another one of his rages. Rhett very well may be doing something dumber than getting a DUI on the back of a horse. Or, or—

It's both of them. 

Perry's clawing at Trevor like a goddamn cat. His teeth bared like an animal. Crazed. Feral. Someone's got him by the collar. But it's not doing anything. He barks something incoherent. Jabbing a pointed finger at Trevor. Amy's shoulders jolt. Squeezing your wrist impossibly tighter. 

Plaid shirts scuffle behind them. Cowboy boots and Prada sneakers kick up plumes of dirt. Two brick walls slamming into one another. Caught in a spiral until someone makes the first pull backward. Luke's fist connects with Rhett's jaw. 

Flower petals burst into the air. 

All of a sudden, Luke is jumping backward, his palms raised to the sky. A rare white flag. One that you didn't even know was in the Tillerson arsenal. "I'm sorry, man," is all he can say. Pale as a damn ghost. 

Almost pale as the baby pink petals fluttering onto the dirt floor. 

"Is that..." Amy's the one to break the silence, looking your way as if you hold all the answers. In a sense, maybe you do. "I thought it was a myth?"

Air catches in your windpipe. Feels like you're about to choke. "I did, too." 

What the fight was over, you're not sure. It couldn't have been something serious; they've dropped the issue far too quickly for it to be something worth fighting over. There and gone within the blink of an eye. The Tillerson brothers are dispersing into the crowd without another foul word, Rhett's wordlessly pawing at the fresh red mark on his jaw, and Perry's barking something you don't care to hear. 

Amy's long nails are biting into your skin, threatening to tear through and draw blood, but you can't ask her to loosen up or let go. The sting is half the reason you haven't unraveled like a loose ball of yarn. It isn't enough to stop your lower belly from twisting and turning, a bitterness rising in the back of your raw throat.

"Sorry," Rhett's voice comes so suddenly that you jolt. 

"I leave you alone for five minutes." Your tone comes out blander than you intended, doesn't match the roll of your eyes, deliberately avoiding the sight of flowers lying in the dirt.

He must catch onto it because his frown deepens. But he doesn't say anything, and neither do you. Only offering a wave and a forced smile when Amy ultimately ventures off with Perry for another one of his ice cream apologies. Those seem to be happening more and more lately. 

Hypothetically, someone should say something. Explain what the fight was about, how he got across the festival so damn fast. Was the beer any good? Want to share this candy before your jaw starts to ache like a bitch? The words are flickering through your head a million miles a minute, but not a syllable makes it to your tongue. 

"It's over someone at the bar," Rhett's admission comes in the tune of a guilty child confessing to breaking a vase. Meek. Like he'll fall apart if pushed any harder. "If that's what y' were wanderin'." 

Falling back into the character of annoying best friend is easy. All you've got to do is throw your weight into his side, not strong enough to deliver a playful shove. "So there really is another person stuck with that god awful tattoo," letting your mouth rise into a smile, almost thrilled to be pulling this off so well.

"Hey!" He's pushing you back, laughing, though he's careful not to knock you off your feet this time."'Least mine ain't a shoe."

Defiant, you raise your left arm, the tattoo on your wrist just as dark and bold as it was the day you were born. "It's a lucky horseshoe, thank you very much." 

And just for a little bit, you can deceive yourself into thinking you can still breathe.

You never do put the passenger seat back into its place. It's so far back that you catch yourself thinking it's not there at all; more than once, you clamber into the vehicle and think someone has robbed you of it. A part of you wishes it would happen. That some ridiculous bandit would break in and take that seat. 

It would be doing your dignity a favor; you're acting as if he's dead. 

You passed his truck on the way over here, parked outside the Handsome Gambler. If you weren't worried about wrecking, you would have tried to get a glimpse through the open door to spot him with his shiny new soulmate. 

A good friend would stop in and say hello; if she makes Rhett happy, then you should be happy. It should be on the forefront of your mind; you're three stores down from the bar, but your feeble heart jerks in your chest with a familiar sourness. Hand trembling, struggling to hang onto this little bag of chips. 

A good friend would be happy for him. 

But you're not a good friend. 

And if this cashier doesn't hurry up, you might also become a horrible customer. Your stomach is twisting like you're about to puke, something bitter rising in the back of your throat. Damn near dropping the receipt when she hands it to you, shoving it into the bag, and darting out the open door. 

You hardly make it to the edge of the sidewalk. Keeling over with a wretched noise. 

But the only thing that comes up is the shit that's been lodged in your chest all afternoon, stubbornly sitting in your chest with the weight of a damn elephant. Refusing to move, restricting your airway until you crack, and confess your feelings to a man who was never meant for you. 

"Hey!" 

Bleary, your eyes peel open. Really hope they're not talking to you. 

"I have your sidekick!" Sherrif Joy's voice cuts across the night air like a knife. Swift and straight to the point.

Turning your head might be the thing that puts you on the ground, vision spinning like your eyes have gone loose in your skull. Funny. You can almost deceive yourself into thinking that's Rhett she's towing along.

Maybe because it is him. Boots dragging against the sidewalk, shoulders so loose that they sway in the wind, eyes hardly open, simply led along by the hand Joy has on his bicep. You've got just enough time to paw at your mouth with your sleeve before she's close enough to notice that something may be off.

"I know he's not your responsibility," the glint in her eye suggests she's getting more amusement out of this than she should be. Probably because this wouldn't be the first, second, or third time that she's sought you out. "But he wouldn't shut his mouth when he saw you."

Rhett's grin is too bright for his flushed face. "Hi." 

You don't need to look at your phone to know that it's too damn early for this, and yet, you can't seem to muster up the slightest bit of irritation as you ask. "How are you already drunk at eleven at night?" 

"I—" Hiccup. "Been here all evenin'." Shreds of red rose petals cling to his lips, flaking off with the movement of his mouth and fluttering to the ground like rain.

Oh, Rhett. 

"If you don't want him, I can bring him to the station," Joy always says this, the same damn line over and over, as if she doesn't know what you will ultimately say, "it's no big deal for me." 

Looping your hand through the handle of your grocery bag, you reach out to take Rhett by the wrist. He comes to you easily, long arms reaching out to wrap around you, clinging like an oversized piece of velcro. 

"I'll take him," feigning annoyance is impossible when he's smiling at you like that. Drunk but completely and utterly happy to be with you. 

If only he looked at you this way when he's sober.

Getting him to the car might be the hardest part of this excursion; it takes you and Joy to get him into your passenger seat without banging his head on the roof like last time. But this isn't your first Drunk Rhett Rodeo; Lord knows it ain't Joy's either. It might even break your previous record of five and a half minutes. Not that you were counting.

"Where we goin'?" He chirps the moment you've clambered into the driver's seat. 

"Home." It's the only response you've got. Not entirely sure if he's got the capacity to follow long sentences. 

But his head cocks to the side like a goddamn puppy. "My home, or...home home?" 

Ice forms in your wrist. Suddenly caught before you can turn the key in the ignition. Is he...? It's gotta be. What else would he be referring to? 

"Home home?" More of a question than anything, but he's not sober enough to notice the difference. That grin simply grows a little bigger. His boots kicking against your floorboard, happy as a clam in high water. 

It doesn't fade, either. Even as you get the car going, and he fusses about leaving his truck behind, he doesn't lose the excitement that bloomed the moment he laid eyes on you. Content to sit here and let you drive, looking out the window and commenting on whatever he sees. The crazy lady on Second Street has added more flamingos to her lawn hoard, and someone's mailbox has been knocked over. What does that sign say over there? 

"So what's your soulmate like?" You ask, reaching to turn down the radio. "You haven't said anything about her." 

Rhett's shoulders rise and fall with a shrug so subtle that you nearly miss it. "They're alright," pause. Then, a weary laugh. "I jus' wish they'd like me back."

Yeah. You understand the feeling. 

He doesn't seem to notice the petals clinging to the lower strands of his hair and into his flannel, hanging off the edge of his pocket and accumulating in his lap. They're identical to the ones sitting on your dash, dry and shriveled from the sun, bouncing as your front tire hits a pothole. 

Now that you give it some thought, you suppose that's why he's drunk. 

"My throat hurts," he grumbles out of the blue, rattling you from the sanctuary of your thoughts. 

You hum, not entirely there. "Getting sick?" 

Quiet, he reaches into his flannel pocket, producing a small assortment of something green. Rose stems, their thorns stained with crimson. There's no way that he's...

Your tire smacks the edge of a curb. The steering wheel yanking out of your hands.

Shit. 

Right. The road. 

"You've been coughing those up?" Voice strained by your heart, sitting high in your esophagus. You're so damn lucky that was a concrete curb and not another car. 

And yet, you dare to peer at him through your peripheral. Those stems still resting in his big palm, as if he doesn't have the strength to put them away again. You reckon he's not sober enough to have noticed your mistake. He would have commented on it by now, making fun of it as if he's any better of a driver. 

"Fuckin' hurts," it comes out softly, a confession that his own ears are afraid of. 

And it's the kind of statement that echoes throughout your car for the rest of the drive. Rattling between the pauses between songs and bubbling to the surface at every lull of the music. Clouded over by too many wonderings of how long he's been quietly dealing with the roses growing in his lungs. A condition so extreme that the stems are beginning to come up, too. 

You would ask why he's never told you about this, but...

Rhett's head cracks against the window with a heavy thunk as you pull into the driveway. So sharp and sudden that you fear he's broken the glass. But the only wound to come out of it is the red spot on his forehead, the color already rising to the surface by the time you put the car in park.

"Did that hurt?" It's impossible to ward off the lightness in your tone; a smidgen amused. 

"Nuh-uh," but he's rubbing at it like it does. 

You shouldn't have believed him, either, because by the time you get him through the door, it's already begun to swell. Miniscule at first, but if you give it some time, it'll grow into a proper bump. One that he'll grimace at in the morning but will lie through his teeth when you ask if it's hurting him. 

If he were sober, he would be nipping at your palm for daring to venture near his face; you can hear it now, the prematurely yelped "'m alright!" before you've even opened your mouth. But he's not sober. Has to put his hand on your waist to stabilize himself, not entirely aware of how you're curling your hands around his cheeks, holding him still. 

You don't think this one will rise too horribly, but you've been wrong before. Like how you insisted the cut on your side was just a scratch and wound up needing more stitches than you knew how to count. 

"Will you let me put ice on it?" You find yourself asking, your fingers drifting up to smooth over the bump. 

Defiant, his head shakes. 

"What if I order a pizza? Will you let me then?" Trying again. But even at the prospect of his favorite drunk snack, he's not interested. 

"Ice cream?" No.

"A movie?" Wrong again.

"Two movies?" Nope.

"A promise to never speak of this again?" Nada.

Huffing, you let go of his face, throwing your hands in the air instead. "Is there anything I can bribe you with?"

His brows furrow. A thought flickers behind his eyes.

Slowly, he nods. 

You've got a bad feeling about whatever this could be, but God, it's too late for you to care. "What is it?"

Even if he would have let you go on for the next century, you would have never guessed that he wanted this. 

Here in the soft sanctuary of your cozy little unmade bed, nestled beneath the myriad of sheets and blankets that you swore you'd throw into the washer three mornings ago. There might be a few crumbs left over from your snack last night, too distracted by the video on your phone to notice the mess until it was too late. 

The state of it all would bother you under normal circumstances, but you reckon you're getting contact drunk. Head spinning at the sight of this cowboy, snug as a bug in your bed, his cheek squished against the spare pillow. His arm has wound up draped over your side, over the sheets, and you can't remember when your hand drifted to his face, thumb swiping back and forth over his scruffy, unshaven jaw.

For once in your life, you can breathe.

You've started to forget what that was like.

He's so unnervingly close that you reckon he can hear the hammer of your heart rattling against your chest like a caged animal. Furious. Determined to burst through and spill its contents for him to see. The devil on your shoulder suggests that you should let it happen; chances are, he won't remember any of this come morning. But the soft, whiney voice of the angel reminds you. 

Rhett's got a soulmate. And it isn't you. 

"What made you ask for this, anyhow?" The sound of your voice comes as a surprise; one of those thoughts that have journeyed to your mouth, rather than staying up in your head. 

Those sleepy blues peel open; maybe the slightest bit cross-eyed perfectly matches that crooked little grin. "'s like a sleepover."

There's a word you haven't thought of for a while. Probably hasn't surfaced in your vocabulary since your early teenage years, arising in arguments about how unfair it was that hitting puberty meant no more sleepovers. It was okay before, so why did it become a problem when your ages started ending in 'teen'? 

Hesitant, your attention drifts to the tattoo on your wrist—that not-so-lucky horseshoe. A symbol that only became a problem in your second year of high school when your heart decided that it wanted your best friend over a soul mate. "Like the ones we're banned from?"

"Uhuh," his foot juts out to kick your ankle, "'cause we're too damn old." 

You're kicking him back before you can think twice about it. Old habits be damned; you're not letting him get a shot in without getting one yourself. But he's already fighting back, socket feet smacking against yours. Tangling. Fighting to get one punch in over the other. His leg bangs against your knee. Your hands lightly shove against his chest. 

All of a sudden, Rhett's lurching forward.

The room spins.

And you're lying on your back. Caged beneath the broad frame of a man proven to handle animals over a thousand pounds heavier than you. His hands planted on either side of your head, knees straddling your hips. Long hair strays into his face, slipping out from behind his ears, but it's not enough to block your eyes from locking.

You're itching to reach up and tuck it back into place. To drift your palms across the roughness of his cheeks and trail a thumb over those thin lips. They're bitten to all hell, but try as you might, you can't imagine they're anything other than soft. 

Time itself might have stopped. 

God. You can't breathe. Don't know if it's from the infestation building in your lungs or the overwhelming scent of alcohol on his tongue. 

Or maybe...maybe it's because he's gradually growing closer. Minimizing the gap between your bodies, inch by debilitating inch. An image plucked right out of your own imagination, replayed a hundred and one times. 

But this version of Rhett doesn't belong to you. 

The one in your head didn't reek of whiskey and beer. 

"Rhett..." You're whispering as if anything louder will shatter you like glass. But he's still...he's still leaning in, and, and— "Rhett. You're drunk."

He freezes. Stiff as a board. Eyes so wide that his irises look tiny. 

"Shit," jerking away as if he's been burned, "sorry." 

This time, when his back hits the bed, your belly doesn't fill with butterflies. It fills with something much, much worse. 

It's the silence that eats at you the most. He's right next to you, and yet, not a word can leave your mouth. What if you hadn't stopped him? Did he confuse you for the pretty thing at the bar, wandering around with the same marking as him? Your heart lurches in your chest, tummy twisting sourly. God, why are you even entertaining this sort of thing? 

He's your friend. Friends don't think of each other like this, especially when one of them has a soulmate waiting on them. 

A funny feeling swells in the back of your throat, stomach gurgling so loudly that it's got Rhett tilting his head to look at you. 

"Are y—"

You're getting up before he can finish talking. Darting for the bathroom for the umpteenth time today. 

You wake to an empty bed. 

Sunlight trickles through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the freshly made sheets that Rhett once occupied, tucked in the best he could get it. He's been gone long enough for them to feel cool to the touch, but you can't hear him moseying around your house, either.

Your bare feet drift across the chilly, wooden floor, still frozen with midnight's temperature drop. Where Rhett would typically bump the thermostat up a couple of degrees, today, it sits the same as you left it. 

"Rhett?" Voice a smidgen too fragile for the hammering of your heart. 

All you receive is an echo, variants of your own tune. His boots are missing from where they once sat by the front door, and when you creep far enough to peer through the kitchen window into the backyard, you don't find him there, either. The ice pack has been resting in the freezer long enough to begin hardening again. 

And your phone left sitting on the counter overnight, contains a notification from everything and everyone, except for one man. Still the same text messages from three days ago, no matter how many times you refresh the page. But the magnetic whiteboard on the side of your refrigerator has a new smiley face on it. 

...and the marker is once again missing.

With a sigh, you reach for the phone, fingers tapping away at the keyboard.

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. 09:47 PM

It's not until after you've got a morning drink in hand that you recognize the tire tracks in your front yard. The grass flattened in the corner of your driveway in a fashion that only Perry Abbott can pull off. No matter how many times he's driven here, he's always overshot the turn and ventured into the lawn.

Your phone is still quiet when you cruise through town a little after nine. Rhett's truck is missing from its place in front of the bar, the space now occupied by a vehicle that the Abbotts can't afford. 

 On its own, your heart lurches in your chest. The tail end of a blue pickup is poking out from a streetside parking spot just down the main drag, and that's got to be him. You know this town like the back of your hand. There aren't many trucks that look like Rhett's. If you catch him now, maybe you can smooth things over regarding last night. Before the dust begins to settle and erode away at your psyche—

But Rhett's truck doesn't have stickers. 

This time, you don't make it to the bathroom before that damned sickness overtakes you. Spewing onto the side of the road at the only red light in town, right in front of the old cafe with its outdoor seating. 

A hangover would be more dignifying. At least then, a little old lady wouldn't be tilting her head at you, her kind, wrinkled eyes soft as she offers you a smile. You understand that look more than you'd like to admit. 

It's the same expression you carried when those petals burst from Rhett's mouth. 

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Yesterday.

Odd. Usually he responds fairly quickly, at least when it comes to him hijacking one of your belongings, but maybe he's busy. Summer has never been kind to the Abbotts, between blistering heat and cattle who love to take down the southern fences to get at the neighbor's grasses. Judging by the forecaster rambling on the news, things aren't about to get easier, either. 

You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. Two days ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. 07:33 PM

No dice. 

How are you meant to leave reminders in the kitchen when a rogue cowboy has pocketed your only marker? It's barely been three days, and you've already started to forget things. Today was laundry day, but now you're standing here, swaddled in Rhett's oversized shirt because it's the only clean thing you have left. Maybe there is a benefit to not returning his clothes. You were meant to go get a spice for this new recipe but didn't remember until you were halfway into working on it. Come to find out, that recipe really, really relied on it. 

You can try to blame your lack of an appetite on your cold, unseasoned dinner all you want, but it only goes so far. Heart lurching in your chest, as the screen lights up with a text.

Autumn: Still coming with us Friday night? 👀 07:51 PM

 You: Hey, cowboy, you've got something of mine. One week ago.

You: I'll give you a hint. It writes in purple ink. Five days ago.

You: I'm going to call a bounty hunter if you continue this hostage situation. Three days ago. 

You're getting sick of feeling your heart twist every time you look at this damn screen. But that stupid son of a bitch still hasn't—

"Excuse me," a lady whispers, squeezing past you, "I'm sorry." 

The entrance of Odessa's probably isn't the best place for you to be checking your phone, now that you think about it. 

That's alright; you're already sliding the device into your back pocket, reaching to catch the door before it can close behind her. You've wasted enough time for your friends to have already secured a spot at the Handsome Gambler. It's a wonder nobody hasn't given you a ring to make sure you weren't nabbed off the street. 

Stepping outside does nothing to ward off the drone of multiple shop televisions. All of them moan about how another wicked storm is due to ravage Wabang and every town around it. Same channel. Same woman talking. Same obnoxious blue background. It's a tale you've heard so many times that you can nearly quote it word for word. 

There's a serious storm rolling in tonight. Tornadoes and hail are possible. Here's what to do in a tornado. Do not do these five things in a tornado. Download the news app to stay connected. Tune back in soon to find out if the forecast has miraculously gotten better or worse! 

Looking overhead, you can already see the dark accumulation in the distance, a humid breeze tickling your neck as it drifts past. It feels just like the night you and Rhett rode out into the west pasture to watch the storm roll in. 

Sitting in the grass, watching those dark gray clouds roll closer and closer whilst the horses relaxed behind you, their attentions focused solely on the greenery below. You can still hear the tune blaring from the speaker of his phone. He'd really thought he was clever, playing that Gary Allen song about how every storm runs out of rain. It wasn't so cute when the south pasture flooded. 

A laugh cuts across the evening air. Sharp and pitchy enough to have your head tilting in the direction of it. Right behind you, on the corner of the block. 

Maria Olivares. That's a face you haven't seen in a long while. Wasn't she off to medical school, a couple hours away from here? Who in the world could she possibly be...

You know that cowboy. 

Puzzle pieces click into place. The darkened mark gracing her inner wrist. Too small for you to make out. How she giggles and batts her eyes up at Rhett, as he talks about something in that wonderfully deep voice of his. 

Of course, Rhett's soulmate would be Maria. How could it not be? No wonder why he was so crazy about her in high school; they've got the same damn marking on their bodies. 

As if to spite you, a muscle spasms in the juncture of your wrist. Sourness bubbles in the back of your mouth, but for once, you're able to swallow it down. Not here. Not when either of them can turn their heads and realize that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring like some kind of creep. Even coming from a childhood best friend, that would be weird. 

"Are you in line?" 

You jerk backward. Wide eyes landing on the wirey frame of some middle-aged man standing in front of you. He motions, with the brim of his hat, toward the door. The Handsome Gambler. Your destination.

"Distracted," you blurt, scurrying to grab the handle before he can, "sorry."

"There you are!" A glass of beer rises from the opposite end of the bar. Autumn. "I was fixin' to come looking for you!"

You have to wait until you're within earshot before you can respond to her, squeezing past the group of cowboys crowded at the corner, watching a PBR ride on someone's cellphone. "I was eavesdropping," You supply, can't keep a damn thing to yourself these days, "Maria Olivares must be Rhett's shiny new soulmate."

Autumn's jaw slackens, eyes so big they might comically burst out of her skull, "are you kidding?" 

One of her friends, you forget her name, gives you a gentle nudge with her arm. You suppose Autumn has already filled her in about your situation. "How did you find out?" Her tone is gentle, nearly washed over by the music blaring from the stereo. 

"Saw them laughing together in the street." There's more to that statement, context, and a reason behind why you've come to that conclusion, but Autumn is taking a brightly colored drink from the bartender, passing it your way.

The Handsome Gambler and mixed drinks do not go hand in hand; there's always too much or too little of something. But out of the corner of your eye, you can see the door opening, two familiar frames entering the bar, the happy new couples themselves. 

Tonight, you don't give a damn what these things taste like. So long as it makes you forget the sour twist in your chest, lungs tightening as if all the air has been sucked from them. Without second thought, you bring the glass to your lips.

It doesn't leave until it's halfway empty, and that's only because the need for oxygen has grown superior. 

The lady behind the bar lifts a freshly cleaned shot glass. You've got a feeling that she's overheard your ramblings. "Need something stronger?"

She doesn't need to say another word. "Absolutely." 

One shot. 

Fuck this town.

A second. 

And fuck Rhett Abbott. 

You're feeling delusional enough to ask for a third, but Autumn's nudging you a glass of water instead. It doesn't have the same bite, but it's equally unpleasant against the back of your throat, still raw and sore. 

Next to you, Autumn and her two friends are already delving into a new conversation. Something about the oddities going on around town and how some old man says he walked into a cave and saw a mastodon. You suppose there must be some inside group dedicated to continuing the claim because it's a rumor you've heard every year. 

A smile fights its way onto your face. You and Rhett used to gear up and go mastodon hunting up on the old trails behind the Abbott property. Royal loved to ask what y'all planned to do with it once you caught it, but you and Rhett never thought that far ahead. 

Your gaze follows the bartender, ready to ask for something sweet, but she's on the other end, gathering a dozen beers for a party that just walked in. Someone leans onto the bar. His head blocking part of your view. But then he looks over, and—

Rhett's eyes widen at the sight of you. By the feel of it on your face, the expression is mutual.

At least, it is for a second. That sourness jumps into your throat. Lower gut churning with a fervor unlike ever before. 

"I'm heading out back," you blurt, hand rising to cover your mouth, "you don't wanna follow." 

The girls frown, but they're certainly not making the risk to stop you. Autumn's already reaching for your drink, accepting your nod as a sign that she can finish off what you've got left. A voice jumps across the blare of the music. Almost sounds like the call of your name. But you don't have the luxury of stopping and looking. 

Your feet are barely falling into line. Rushing to push through the men gathered by the back exit. Past the blasting jukebox. There's that tightness in your lungs again. A thick sensation rising higher. Higher. Higher in your throat. There's the door. There's the door. Your hands are reaching out. Grappling at the handle. 

Hinges squeal open. Shoes scuffing on the concrete. 

Vivid purple petals burst past your lips like goddamn confetti. Stems and all. Ripping past your already battered windpipe and sticking to your tongue, little bits of purple carrying in the wind. 

Those three-petalled flowers were pretty until they started growing in your lungs. You can't stand the sight of them, but you've got no choice but to cough more of them up. As if any amount of effort will make them disappear. 

 A bundle of them have caught in the back of your mouth, stubbornly thwarting your ability to breathe. Light as a feather, your head spins, feet stumbling as you scurry to one of the chairs, sitting against the wall. The plastic groans under your weight, so brittle that it ought to give away at any moment.

Lightning flickers as another wave of flowers rain to the floor, and it's a wonder you can get these out at all. 

The back door opens with a screech. Music pours through the gap, an incoherent tune so loud that you can hardly hear the thunder rolling through town. Someone in boots stumbles out, keeling over.

A bloodstained rose tumbles to the ground, pink and red petals dancing behind it, landing amongst your mess of purple. 

When you lift your head, you know what you're going to see. But that doesn't make the look in Rhett's eyes any easier to bear. Some kind of hellish cross between horror and bewilderment that manages to look akin to a wounded puppy. 

Not a word leaves his mouth. Doesn't get the opportunity to, for that matter, another plume of petals forcing their way past his lips before he can do anything about it. Just the sight of them has that tickle building in the back of your throat, but for the time being, your tank is empty. 

Thunder booms as Rhett falls into the chair opposite you. His hand dips into his flannel pocket, producing...

your marker. 

"'m sorry," he mutters, sentence broken by a cough, "Didn't realize I stuck it behind my ear 'til you texted me."

"Which time?" You can't help the bitterness seeping into your tone, plucking the little writing utensil from his outstretched hand. 

His eyes dart away. 

The tension in the silence doesn't come from the storm. Wind howling around the corner of the building, rustling through the trees. Lightning flickers, illuminating the world around you for the briefest of moments, and just like that, rain begins to fall. Coming down in a thick sheet, so strong that even under the awning, it manages to reach you, mist tickling your skin and dampening your clothes.

Idle, your fingers twist the marker back and forth; it's still warm from where it rested in his pocket, snug against his chest. A part of you wonders if he always runs this hot or if your hands are just cold from the Wyoming air.

"So you and Maria, huh?" Even with the roar of the storm, your voice is too loud; a megaphone in the library would be more tolerable. 

"Nah, I just ran into her 'bout a half hour ago." Rhett's head shakes, eyes on the floor. "We were both goin' to the same place, 'n that was about it."

"Damn, and here I thought she was your soulmate." You hate that a selfish part of you floods with relief. So overcome with it that you can feel the way your shoulders drop. "It would have made for the perfect story."

You could have been the perfect story, too.

"I don't know why I liked her in high school," he's continuing, running a hand through his hair, fingers visibly catching on a tangle, "'s like talkin' to a fuckin' wall."

Of all the things you've imagined him saying, that wasn't even close to making it on the list. Though, you can't say he's entirely wrong; ever since that time you got paired with Maria for a history presentation, you haven't been able to see what's so interesting about her, either. Nothing but one-word answers and giggling with her friends while you worked on the assignment by your lonesome. 

It may be petty, but you're still bitter. 

"I'm sorry, I..." Rhett's talking again, caving to the silence that you've unintentionally put between you two. His hands fall into his lap, clasping together. Then, break apart just as quickly, one of them reaching up to rub at his forehead. "I shouldn't have tried to kiss you the other night."

"It's alright—" your tongue pauses before the rest of your sentence can follow. I wanted you to. But you're looking down at your tattoo, and it's still the same horseshoe. It doesn't match Rhett's. 

It will never match Rhett's. 

Finding your voice is damn near impossible, but you do it anyway. "You've done stranger things while under the influence." 

"Like gettin' a DUI on the back of a horse?" He says it so bluntly that you can't help but sputter. 

It's easy. Dissolving into laughter. Peering at each other through smiling eyes. Yeah, getting a DUI on horseback is much, much worse than trying to steal a kiss. You've still got the voicemail from when Joy called you in the dead of night, asking you to come get Rhett and his horse. 

White flashes. Lighting up the world for the briefest moment. An ear-splitting crackle erupts from above. So loud that the town lights flicker in unison like a bunch of candles nearly blown out by the squealing wind. 

"'s gettin' pretty bad out here." The sound of Rhett's voice is nearly lost to the ringing in your ear. 

"Tell me about it," you lean forward, peering over at the miniature river that runs down into the alleyway, carrying with it a parade of purple, pink, and red flower petals. "The road'll be flooded by the time Autumn decides she's ready to leave."

Rhett's head tilts to the side. "You didn't drive?" 

"Couldn't." Shocker, you know. "I had a hot date with a shot of whisky."

"Two from what I saw," so he was watching you do that, huh?

You wink. "I would have made it three if I knew you were watching."

Something crackles in the distance. Maybe a tree struck by lightning, bits of bark falling like rain. A little too close for comfort, whatever it was.

That tickling rises in the back of your throat once more. Forces another cough out of you. The purple petals catch in the wind before they can hit the ground, soaring off like tiny planes. Rhett's eyes follow them until they're out of sight. 

All of a sudden, he rises to his feet, spurs chiming with the motion. Must have forgotten to take those off again. "Need a ride?" Offering his hand. 

You take it before you even realize what he's asking. 

A part of you is beginning to suspect that Autumn can see into the future because she's hardly phased when she turns her head to see you meander back into the bar, hand in hand with Rhett. Her white teeth flash you with a smile, perhaps a little too interested in whatever Billy Tillerson is babbling into her other ear. With their hands intertwined, you can hardly tell that they've got timers imprinted on their wrists, bearing identical numbers.

Autumn doesn't need to ask when you hand her the twenty from your pocket; in the time you've known each other, you've proven to be a creature of habit. Instead, she offers you a wink, not a word said. 

Rhett's already by the door, working his beat-up wallet back into his jeans before he can set it down and forget that it's there. "Y' ready to get wet?" He chirps once you're within earshot. 

You're not, but there's no stopping the rain now that it's coming down. "Ready as I'll ever be." 

The door creeks open. A gust of wind rushes in through the gap. Slams you with the force of a freight train. Damn near strong enough to knock you on your ass. But Rhett's grabbing hold of your wrist and him hauling you forward is the only thing keeping your feet from being swept out from under you. 

Freezing rain splatters against your skin like a million tiny bullets. So sharp you think they might pierce through and come out the other side. A sheet of white blinds you. Forced to lower your head and prey Rhett's hauling you the right direction. The sidewalk is already flooded. Splashing up to lick your ankles. Soaking through your shoes. 

You're moving. You know you're moving. But you might as well be on some hellish treadmill because it doesn't feel like you're going anywhere.

All of a sudden, Rhett's pulling you to the right. Toward the curb. Reaching for the handle. Yanking so hard you can hear it over the rain. 

It opens. You're inside within the very same second. Clambering into the cloth passenger seat, pulling your legs in, just as Rhett slams the door shut. Through the blurry dash, he's only identifiable as a big blue splotch, travelling around the front of his truck. His door rips open just as quickly, the vehicle rocking as he all but throws himself inside.

"'s fuckin' cold!" He sputters, blindly jabbing the key at the ignition. Miss. Miss again. Another miss. He tilts his head. It slides home. 

It's been a minute since the last time you heard this old truck roar to life. Even longer since you've last felt your skin go this numb. Shivering like a leaf, nerves so ruthlessly beaten by the elements that they're shot. There's a texture to this seat. You know there is, but you can't feel it. 

A weary hand darts out. Wavering back and forth. Narrowly misses the little heat dial.

"Ain't got heat, remember?" Rhett almost sounds guilty, though you can't say for sure. It's hard to get a read of his face when he's focused on putting the truck into gear, looking straight ahead as he pulls onto the road. Though you're not entirely sure why, he's still got that old—

...no. His spare shirt is still sitting in your clothes hamper, next in line for a wash. Even if you had miraculously known to carry it with you tonight, there's no way it would have done you any good. Not with how soaked your clothes are, dripping like you've just gone for an impromptu swim in the coldest river you could find. 

Your arms rise to wrap around yourself, clinging to what little body heat you've got left. A jacket. Why didn't you think to carry a jacket? Lightning flickers. Crackling so loudly that you can feel it travel through the ground; almost sounds as if it's laughing at you. 

Even in the safe confines of this truck, the win threatens to wriggle in and get ahold of you. Screaming around the truck. Whipping past light posts. Rattling them so hard that they sway back and forth. Something is telling you that a power outage is in your near-to-distant future. With how you can look out the back window and see it ravaging the main part of town, there's no way it's not going to take out a power line. One little mess up is all it takes to plunge this little town into darkness. 

There's already a tree down. Its long branches obstructing part of the road, forcing Rhett onto the other side to squeeze past. 

"'m I over far enough?" He sounds like he's got a handle on it, head tilting back and forth, drawing the truck closer and closer to the edge of the road. 

Your eyes squint. Struggling to see through the window. "I think so."

It's an obstacle easily overcome, but as you begin to pick up speed once more, a new problem arises. Those poor little windshield wipers can hardly keep up with the rain. Coming down in sheet after sheet, splattering against the glass quicker than it can be swept off. Driving in the ocean would have better visibility.

"Can't fuckin..." Rhett's talking to himself. You hope he's talking to himself because you can't hear him over the chatter of your teeth. Trembling like some kind of exaggerated cartoon character.

The truck gently veers to the right, off into some kind of gravel space on the side of the road, grinding to a halt.

"The— the wipers can't go any faster?" Tongue limp in your mouth. Impossible to move.

Rhett's head shakes. "No, they don't..." 

His eyes lock onto yours. Even that might be enough to eat away some of the ice forming in your bones. His jaw softens. Eyelashes fluttering with an incoming thought.

Slow, his arm rises from his side, extending your direction. "C'mere."

Your breath catches. Is that...no, you....you shouldn't—

"Promise I won't kiss ya," his fingers tap your shoulder, "'m jus' gonna warm ya up."

Another bolt of lightning flashes. 

You're scooting across the bench seat before thunder even has the chance to arise. Slipping beneath his outstretched arm, helpless to do anything but fall into his big chest, equally soaked as you are, but he's warm. A big furnace, wrapping around and squeezing you into him. 

He shifts the slightest bit, leaning against the door, opening himself up for you to properly squirm into his side. With such little space in this truck, it's a squeeze, but you fit nonetheless, cheek resting atop that old bucking bull tattoo, the scruff of his jaw tickling your forehead. 

Another rumble rolls through, wind slamming into the side of the vehicle, rocking it back and forth like some kind of giant cradle. Rhett's legs shift, properly rising up onto the seat, knees knocking into yours as they settle. There's no way that you can feel his body, not with those thick jeans in the way, but a part of you swears that you can. So certain of it that you think the ice in your bones is beginning to thaw.

A big, warm hand runs up and down the expanse of your arm as if to create a little friction there. "Can y' still feel your hands?" He murmurs, voice rumbling against the top of your head, and you think that's the tip of his nose bumping into you.

You're wiggling your fingers, can see them moving in the darkness, but hardly any sensation comes of it. Feels as if you're operating a separate object and not a part of your own body. "I don't know." 

He reaches down, both hands wrapping around yours, and immediately, it's as if you've been set ablaze. Fire burning in your frozen joints, sensitive to even the slightest change in temperature. Rhett's thumb swipes against yours, a rough glide, his skin weathered by a lifetime of labor on the ranch. 

They're so much bigger, too, dwarfing yours in comparison, long and thick with muscle and built-up callouses. He must be noticing it as well because he's sliding his index finger down next to yours, and even in the dark, you can tell that he's at least twice the size. So big that you can hold just the four of his fingers, and not even need the rest of his hand.

You don't know why you're doing this or why he's letting you. 

Careful, your gaze crawls upward, roaming over the wet fabric of his flannel, up his damp neck, and the dripping curls resting at his nape. And he's...

he's already looking at you. Half-lidded eyes fixated on your face, the corner of his lip twitching upward for the briefest moment. A tickle rises in the back of your throat. Nothing comes of it. Lightning lights up the world like a light switch flicked, but you don't hear the thunder that follows. 

His nose bumps into yours. Breath fanning out against your skin. 

This...you shouldn't...but...

Those blue eyes drop down to your lips. Then back up to you. His eyelashes flutter. You think yours might, too. He's so close. Can feel the stubble on his chin brush against you, a fleeting thing that you can somehow still feel, even after the contact breaks. A breath trickles out of your chest. The slightest little movement that brushes your bottom lip against his. And he's not moving away, he's—

An ear-splitting boom tears past the truck. Rattling it back and forth. Sends you and Rhett jumping. Your head bangs against the seat cushion. His elbow hits the horn. 

"The hell..." he grumbles, with a shake of his head. "Was that s'pposed to be thunder?" 

"Is that what it was?" Parroting him, looking toward the window as if that could possibly give you an answer. 

The rain has slowed into a slow trickle that is easily swept away by the windshield wipers, unveiling the world around you once more. You recognize where you're at now, just two or three miles down from your house.  So damn close, and yet...

"Let's get you home," Rhett's sitting up, and you've got no choice but to do so as well. The scoot to the passenger side is almost shameful, the cold, soaked seat squishing beneath you like a sponge. 

A thick collection of petals swell in the back of your throat as Rhett's foot finds the gas pedal once more. Were you about to kiss him? What the hell were you thinking? That isn't how this works. You're not soulmates.

Somehow, the air has grown even colder without him wrapped around you, his very presence haunting you like a ghost. Lingering in the back of your mind so strongly that you can almost deceive yourself into believing that you're still snuggled into his side. But no matter how hard you focus, you can't force it to manifest into reality. 

Cruel is what it is.

Even as the rain picks up once more, it's not enough to pull you over again, swept away from the windshield as quickly as it lands. There's another tree down, but it has barely made its way into the road, such a simple obstacle that only takes a second or two to get past. And just like that, your porch light is emerging in the distance. A golden glow that grows larger by the second, like a tiny sun rising to greet you.

The gravel driveway crackles beneath the tires; it's usually a pleasant sound, but today, all it does is cause your stomach to sink. Such a sour feeling that it rises, flower petals tickling the back of your throat until you cough. Little bits of purple scatter across your lap. Rhett's foot jumps to the brake pedal, a soft squeal emitting from beneath the vehicle as it comes to a stop. 

You've never been so disappointed to see your front door. 

"Thank you," barely a whisper as it leaves your mouth. Anything louder might break you.

He nods, eyes darting from your lap and up to your face. "Yeah." 

The only sound in the truck is that of the frozen rain pitter-pattering on the metal roof. Nothing more. Nothing less. With a forced, tight-lipped smile, you reach for the door handle. It opens with a groan, creating just enough space for you to slip out, the oversaturated ground squelching beneath you. He doesn't say anything as you shut the door, so neither do you. 

Resigned to silence, you trudge through the rain. Wind rips past, determined to lift you up off the ground and whisk you into the sky. But you don't lift off the ground. You don't even slip. Your feet find the front steps of your porch, hand fishing into your pocket and producing a set of drenched keys.

The confines of your home are so much warmer than it was outside, and yet, as you toe off your muddy shoes, you can't help but compare it to Rhett. Your heater may be strong, but it doesn't wrap around you the way his arms did. Big. Secure. The kind of thing you thought only existed in your daydreams. 

Strange, you don't hear his truck pulling out of the driveway. You know he hasn't; that old GMC runs far too loudly for it to slip by unnoticed. Curious, you hook your finger into the blinds, pulling them down.

No, he hasn't moved at all.

...what's he doing out there? Even from here, you can tell that the storm is picking back up again, rustling through the trees, swaying them back and forth. 

Nothing has fallen or otherwise obstructed the driveway, and something couldn't have gone wrong. Not that quickly. Unless he's suddenly developed the ability to hear your heart hammering against your chest, wordlessly begging him not to leave your driveway, there's no reason for him to still be parked. 

The cab light flicks on. Then off again. All of a sudden, he's rounding the back of his truck. You're opening the door, socked feet stepping out onto the cold, wet porch. His spurs chime, boots thumping up one stair. Two. Three. Four. No, no, something must have happened. His eyes are wide, and his jaw is slack, looks half scared to death. 

But he's not stopping. 

"Rhett—"

"I forgot somethin'." One more step, and he's leaning down, and, and...

It's the simplest of things, merely pressing against each other for a long moment, but heaven itself cannot compare to the feeling of Rhett's lips against yours. His nose crushed uncomfortably against your cheek, big hands cradling your cheeks like you'll break if he doesn't. 

Just as quickly, he draws away, soft blue eyes meeting with yours. Lightning flashes, but even the following slam of thunder cannot stop you from grabbing a fistful of his flannel and yanking him in once more. Lips crashing together, feet stumbling with the force of it. One of his arms is wrapping around your waist and your hands are sliding up into his hair. Bold. As if this is familiar, something you've done every day of your lives. 

The press of his mouth and the stubble of his chin are so much more than your imagination ever could have crafted. Warm and scratching against you so deliciously that your head goes quiet. Soul mate markings be damned. This is where you're meant to be. Right here. Twisting your fingers through his unruly curls, gasping against him. Drowning as he kisses you again, and again, and again. 

Your head is spinning. Stumbling blindly as he leans into you, forcing you backward. Your heel catches on the doorway. "Rhett—" But you don't fall. You can't. Not with that strong arm around you. "Cowboy!" 

"You're the only one that's ever called me that." He breaks away, kicking at the door with his foot. There's no doubt a mud stain on the white frame now, but you've hardly got it in you to care. 

"What?" Your nose bumps into his cheek. A little too close.

"Cowboy." He mutters, lips brushing against yours. So, so close. 

A breath hitches in your throat. "Should I stop?"

"Never." And he's kissing you again. 

Muffled thunder rumbles outside, and you're pretty sure the power has gone out, but you can't open your eyes to check. Helpless to do anything but tug on his hair, drinking in his deep grumble like you're starved. You should be embarrassed. Shouldn't be this desperate over a first kiss. 

But Rhett's got it just as bad. Pushing you backward until you're bumping into the wall. His big, calloused hand is venturing beneath your soaked shirt. God, and you're letting him. Back arching as his fingertips trail up your spine, chest pressing into his. Gasping against his lips like you're trying to put on a show. 

More. You want more. Reaching down to toy with the buttons on his shirt, undoing them one at a time, shaking fingers struggling to push them through the holes. Too eager to feel the expense of his chest beneath your palms. 

"You're gonna have t' stop me," Rhett's speaking against your lips, batting your hands away. Makes no effort to finish your handiwork as he yanks the flannel off his shoulders, the final three buttons snapping off and scattering across the hardwood floor.

Before you can stop it, your hand drops to his belt, pulling him closer. Earns you an affectionate chuckle that echoes throughout the house. Those hips of his press forward, obnoxiously large buckle digging into your belly, not an inch of space left between your bodies. 

"Why would I stop you?" It's too early for you to be reaching down to grab at the hem of your shirt, but you don't care. You want this damn thing off. The soaked fabric stubbornly clings to your frame, heavy as you drag it over your head. It hits the floor with a wet thunk, a mess for the future version of you to handle. 

Those deep blue eyes might eat you alive. "Good point." 

It's hard to tell who makes the next move. All you know is that you're leaning in to kiss him, noses crashing together, and his hands are appearing on your ass, squeezing until you get the hint to jump. It all happens so fast. The thunk of your back against the wall. His hips slotting between your thighs. 

"Y' feel what you're doin' to me?" He grunts, and he doesn't need to specify for you to know what he's talking about—heavy bulge straining against his jeans, pressing perfectly against your core, igniting a familiar heat there. 

"Uhuh," is all you're capable of. Greedy hands sliding across his chest and up his shoulders, feeling over all the little freckles and marks that have haunted your imagination. Fuck, and he just lets you. Too busy leaning in to steal a kiss off you. One. Two. Three. Before he shifts to the juncture of your jaw, stubble tickling as he kisses down your neck.  

Your hips buck forward. 

"Fuck," Rhett's voice tickles your ear, "shoulda let me kiss you earlier, sweetheart."

A shiver ripples down your spine. That's new. 

Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Finding your words is a task in of itself. Hard to do much of anything when his lips find the soft spot beneath your ear, sucking lightly. 

"You were drunk," voice strained, wound too tight in your throat. 

"Felt pretty sober in the moment," He hums, tongue poking out to wet your skin. Fuck, you wonder what that would feel like in other places, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter around his hips, works a groan right out of him. 

Thunder booms outside, but it's not enough to stop your lips from crashing once more. Teeth clattering, hopelessly grinding down into him, and even these layers of clothing can't stop you from feeling the way he twitches. 

It's all a blur. 

One moment, you're up against the wall. The next, you're on the ground again, socks sliding against the floor as you stumble down the hall. Hands tangled in his hair. Gasping against his lips. Moving blindly, too focused on each other to spare even a second. You don't know you're in the bedroom until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress, falling backward with a yelp. 

Fuck, you shouldn't be doing this. There's no reason for you to be letting Rhett Abbott climb into bed with you and slot his big, warm body between your legs. He's your friend. You've known him since you could walk. And these tattoos. They don't match. You're not soulmates. 

Rhett's hand rises, pinning yours to the mattress, fingers slotting together. Must know what you're thinking about. "Who gives a fuck 'bout soulmates," he whispers, leaning forward to bump his nose against yours, rubbing them back and forth. "A damn stranger ain't gonna make me as happy as you do."

And you don't...you don't know what to say. 

Maybe you don't need to say anything because he kisses you like he's heard everything your heart has to tell him. Stealing your breath away, plucking every little flower from your lungs, so dizzying that your legs have to curl around him to keep from floating away. As if you could possibly escape the big, warm arms that have settled on either side of your head. 

Slow, his weight settles on top of you. Bellies snug together. So close that you can hardly grind up into him, reduced to a needy squirm, whining high in your throat. 

"Shh," he coos. A big hand curling around your cheek, thumb stroking the thin skin there. "I'll take care of you."

He's already making good on his promise, pulling away to kiss down your neck once more. Hot tongue poking past his lips, running over a vein, leaves behind a glistening trail as he makes his way to your collar. One of his hands dips behind your back, pinching the clasp of your bra, opens it so easily that it almost surprises you.

The last thing you expect is for him to gasp when he pulls it away. Awestruck by the sight of you, bare, for his eyes only. "So fuckin' pretty," whispering, as he kisses down your chest. Too eager to run his tongue down the swell of your breast, so content that his closed eyes seem to smile. 

Oh, that's...

"Rhett..." Heat swells in your lower belly. The feeling of his tongue swirling around your nipple is...truly something... 

Just as quickly, he's darting to the other one, all too excited to feel the little bud harden beneath his touch. Sensitive. Only takes the slightest bit of suction to make you jolt. But he must have noticed something even more enticing because he's pulling away from that one as well, a big hand rising to toy with it as his head dips down lower. 

A delicate kiss presses to the scar on your left side. 

Then another. And another. And another. Loving on the old wound, as if he can possibly reverse the damage if he gives it enough attention. Maybe just one more kiss will do it. If not, then surely the next one can make it happen.

"It was nobody's fault," you say softly, reaching to run your fingers through his hair once more. Truly, it wasn't. Nobody could have anticipated that shard of glass. 

"I know," the rumble of his voice tickles, pausing to run his tongue up the expanse of the mark, "jus' wish it didn't hurt ya like it did."

Gradually, he draws himself away from your side. Kissing his way down your belly until he meets the thin, delicate band of your underwear. His eyes peer up at you with a silent question. Your answer comes in the form of lifted hips, allowing him to pull the material down your legs. Then, he reaches for his belt, pinching it open with mesmerizing ease.

One boot thunks against the floor. Then the other. You really hope he didn't track mud all over your hardwood.

"You and that obnoxious buckle," the comment slips off your tongue before you can stop it. Too busy watching him undress. It's unfair how well the fabric clings to his thighs, fitting him like a damn glove. 

He laughs, kicking his jeans off his feet. "What, don't think it looks good on me?" 

"If I answer that, your ego will go through the roof." Your eyes roll; the last thing you need to do is tell him that, yes, you do like it. Lord only knows he'll run himself through four more rodeo seasons, trying to score an even bigger buckle. 

"Already has," he winks, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his boxers.

You don't know what he's got to be so confident about until...

"Jesus, Rhett."

"What?" He grins. Absolutely fucking obnoxious. But you can't formulate a single word. "What?"

Your thighs cinch together, hiding yourself from view. There is absolutely no reason why that should be springing up from its confines, so heavy that it smacks against his hip, unable to stand up against his belly. So wet that even in the dark you can see him glistening.

"Naw, y' don't gotta be shy," Rhett's hand travels up your knee, slipping between your closed legs, callouses dragging deliciously against your sensitive skin, "'s just me." 

A little too easily, you fall apart once more, feeling a little too exposed as his hungry eyes rake down your body. Every imperfection and curve is on full display. An exhibit of the life you've lived. And Rhett just might be your biggest admirer, his warm frame slipping between your legs, big hands gliding up your sides, pressing lazy kisses as he settles on top of you. 

"Rhett..." you don't know why you're saying his name, thighs curling around his sharp hips. His cock head bumps into the meet of your thigh, sends you jumping before you can realize what's happened.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya," uttering beneath his breath, a sentiment meant for your ears only. "I promise." He reaches between your bodies, gently guiding himself to—

Your head tilts back with a gasp. That's new. The delicate drag of Rhett's cock, gliding between your folds, the underside of him nudging at your clit. Hadn't realized you'd gotten this worked up until now, so wet that you can almost convince yourself that you don't need any lube at all. Not a hint of dryness to be found, sliding so, so easily against you.

But then you're gathering the courage to peer down between your legs, and even the darkness can't hide how big he is. Thicker than your daydreams have ever depicted, just a hair longer than any of the toys hiding beneath the bed.

"Bedside table," you blurt, heart fluttering in your chest. Walking is a privilege you'd like to keep. 

An unforeseen positive to letting your best friend between your legs is the fact that he knows exactly what you're trying to say. No need for questions as Rhett reaches off to the side, hand disappearing into the drawer. Comes back with the bottle, then delves back in, producing some tiny, round hunks of plastic.

You don't recognize them until he flicks one on—the tiny, fake candles from a few Halloweens ago.

"How romantic," there's a strangeness to this that you didn't expect; oddly casual, even with this newfound situation. 

"What?" He asks, innocent as can be, like you have a choice in the matter, already putting one flickering candle off to the side. Another, next to your hip, and he's still got four or five of them left to turn on. "Ain't in the mood for some mood lightin'?"

Lying to yourself is fruitless. The soft golden glow is a welcomed addition to this dark little bedroom. Highlights the room just enough for you to catch the way he drizzles the lube into his palm, reaching down to spread it over himself. That big hand almost tricks you into believing his cock is smaller than it really is, the flushed tip nudging at your cunt with every upward glide. 

They say monsters hide in the dark, and you know you caught sight of one between his legs. 

Two fingers press into you. No warning to be found, the thick digits easing in like they've done it a million and one times, crooking upward, dragging against your walls. There's the slightest hint of a stretch, a soft ache that—

You suck in a breath, a soft noise escaping past your lips. 

Rhett's cock twitches against you. "'s that it?" 

Weak, you nod. Don't trust yourself to speak. Not with him gradually beginning to move, shallowly pumping those long digits into you, never pulling out far enough to make you feel empty. But it's so hard to stay quiet when he continuously rubs up into those little nerves, nudging them on every pass over. 

"Rhett..." hips writhing against the bed, not sure if you want to lean into it or squirm away. 

That must be all that he's planning to give you because all of a sudden, he's drawing away. Wet fingers glisten in the candlelight as he reaches for his cock once more, guiding it back between your folds. Not entirely the same as what you had before, but the drag of his cock head against your clit is so, so worth the exchange. 

His warm chest settles against yours once more, lips finding your cheek, scratchy jaw tickling the skin there. Sounds like he murmurs your name as he travels to the corner of your mouth, pressing another kiss there. Finally. Finally, he meets you for a proper kiss, almost immediately broken by the swivel of his hips, reformed just as quickly.

Your hands are on the move. One in his hair, the other on his naked shoulder, feeling the way his muscles flex and ripple beneath your fingertips. Strong from a decade of bull riding and all that time spent on the ranch, chiseled and perfect in every way you can imagine. Fuck, it's like he was built just for you and this. Rutting between your legs like he's in heat, dragging against your needy clit until your hips twitch off the mattress, pressing into him. 

Swallowing down his groan is enough to put you up on cloud nine. 

A pressure appears at your entrance—the soft nudge of his tip. Your antics must have caused him to wander a little too far down. But you're pushing down onto him like it was your intent all along, and by God, he's not trying to stop you. 

Rhett stiffens. "You want me to...?" Muttering against your lips, unable to draw himself away any further. 

"Yeah," it's the easiest thing you've said all night.

It's all the encouragement he needs, mouth meeting yours once more. Slow, that pressure between your legs begins to grow, his blunt tip spreading you wide. There's a part of you already beginning to wonder if you should have asked for more lube, but his incessant lips are so damn distracting. Tangling with yours, drawing you into a captivating dance, spinning your head round and round, drawing your mind away from the burn. 

His head slips into you with a soft 'pop,' such an odd little feeling that has you gasping into his kiss, fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Now you can really feel him. The delicate drag of his length gradually filling you, centimeter by debilitating centimeter. You'll be waddling come morning. You can already feel it.

There's no way you won't be. Not with how your pussy aches with the overwhelming stretch of him.

"Y' want me to stop?" Rhett's low voice rumbles against your bottom lip; when did the kiss break? 

Thunder rumbles outside, your only reminder of the storm that looms just past the thin walls of your home. Even the memory of running with him in the rain feels like it was forever ago. There were flowers filling your lungs just a few hours prior, but as you draw in a breath, you can't feel a shred of evidence that they were ever there.

"Yeah," nodding, your nose bumping into his, "you're just...a lot." 

God, you shouldn't have said that. 

But it's too late. There's already a wild grin emerging onto his scruffy face, so pleased with your words that his eyes seem to sparkle. As if the sight of you struggling to take his cock wasn't enough of a boost to his ego. 

"'s that it?" Speaking through his smile, still has the audacity to sink even further into you. "Ya never had anything big as me?" 

Your eyes roll so hard that they might get stuck.

All at once, his hips are flush with yours, not an inch of space left, your legs tightening around him as if there's a risk of him pulling back out. But that's not happening. Not with the way he's blindly nuzzling his nose into you, so lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him that he can't hold his eyes open.

"Y' alright?" His eyelashes tickle your cheek as they flutter open.

"Uhuh" is the best that you've got at this given moment. It's so hard to speak when you're so full. Couldn't take another millimeter of him, even if he begged you to. "You can..." pausing for a breath, "you can move."

In perfect synchrony, your attentions flicker down to where your bodies meet. A sight lit by the golden glow of the artificial candles, illuminating the slow withdrawal of Rhett's cock, where you're stretched so wide that you don't think your smaller toys will ever satisfy you again. 

"Shit, look at that," there's no reason why Rhett, of all people, should be so mesmerized by this, but he is, and it makes you fucking dizzy. "'s fuckin' hot."

And then he's sinking back in and—

"Fuck," it's too early for you to be whimpering so high in your throat, but his blunt tip is dragging right against the sensitive nerves hidden within you, and it's so, so much. 

This close, it's hard to miss the way Rhett's breath hitches, "'s that the spot, baby?"

All you can do is nod. Nails biting into his shoulders as he draws back once more, rubbing past that little spot once more. Toys don't normally get this sort of reaction out of you, but there's just something about it being Rhett that's getting to you. Your childhood best friend. The man that your weary heart has yearned for since high school. Eye candy at every rodeo he's ever set foot in. 

His lips find yours, tangling lazily, humming all the while. A part of you wonders if he always demands this many kisses. If he makes a habit of smiling into them. The rest of you knows that he doesn't because otherwise, he'd know that the heavy thrust of his hips would send your teeth clattering together.

"Ow," he's jerking back as if he's not the main culprit behind it. 

His cock head drives right up into those nerves. Sends your back arching up off the bed, pussy spasming around him, and you don't know which of you cry out louder. 

"There, there, there," you're babbling like a fool, but he's already missing it again. Such a minuscule thing that every correction is an overshot. 

Rhett's brows furrow, focusing so damn hard, and yet, "I can't...shit, that ain't it either." 

But you've got an idea.

Without a word, you begin to lean up, foreheads bumping together as Rhett tries to follow along, his big blue eyes so wide that they glisten in the light. Slipping out of you entirely as he falls onto his haunches, looks like a big puppy when he's confused like this.

"On your back," your command is soft. It could easily be bent if he really wanted to, but he's already following through on it, twisting and falling back onto the bed without a fuss. 

Settling into his lap is a feeling you've imagined a million and one times, and yet, somehow, it's unlike anything your mind has ever come up with. Warmth radiating off him like he's a damn heater, broad chest making your hand look impossibly tiny, as you lean on him for balance. He's already one step ahead of you, carefully guiding his cock back to your dripping cunt; all you've got to do is sink down and—

A pair of gasps tear through the room. Louder than the storm raging outside.

"Y' look so fuckin' beautiful on top of me, baby," Rhett sputters, peering up at you as if you've hung the moon and the stars in the sky. 

Already, you're beginning to move. Knees digging into the mattress, palms firm against his chest as you lift yourself up. The curve of his length alone is enough to make your thighs shudder.

"You're not so bad yourself," you're breathless already, hips swiveling, searching for that deceptive little angle. Maybe if you...lean a little further forward...

There it is. 

A tingle ripples up your spine, clamping down around Rhett's cock, and he must feel it because his head rolls to the side, lips parting with a groan that ought to make your head spin. Those big hands settle onto your thighs, gripping like he'll fall off the bed if he doesn't.

"Is that—oh fuck,"  his hips jerk up off the bed, leaking tip kissing those little nerves head on, "is that it?"

You can't answer. Palms shivering against his chest, already fighting to keep yourself upright. An ache blooming in your thighs with every rise and fall, head tilting back, a familiar heat beginning to bloom in your lower belly.

Rhett must be feeling it, too. There's no way he isn't. Head rolling from side to side, back arching off the bed, unable to keep himself still beneath you, a whiny mewl escaping his parted lips. And all it's doing is jostling his length inside of you, sporadically tapping against all those sensitive spots.

A calloused thumb appears on your clit. Not sure when he started reaching down, but it's damn near got you collapsing onto his chest, a tremble setting into your exhausted bones. 

"Fuck, Rhett!" You're squealing, poorly built rhythm already beginning to fall apart. 

Again, his hips snap upward, heavy balls smacking against your ass. "'m sorry, I'm not trying to buck my hips. I just..." he doesn't get to finish that because you're falling forward into his chest, face burying into his shoulder. It's too much. It's too much. 

Big hands settle on your hips. Gripping tight as his knees bend, feet digging into the mattress to pump into you properly. Lewd smacks of skin on skin echoing through the room, artificial candles bouncing with his every motion. 

"Anyone else ever fill your sweet pussy like this?" He rasps in some rumbling, guttural tone you've never heard before. "Hm?"

Your head shakes, but it takes a moment to realize that he can't see what you're doing. Not with you nuzzled up under his jaw. "N-no," whimpering right into his ear. 

Those hands are moving again, gliding up your back, big arms securing themselves around you like a hug, the only damn thing that keeps you from bouncing further up the bed. Your forearms settle on either side of his head, shivering as you try to lift yourself up, but you can only go so far, barely able to meet his eyes.

Lips clash, so loose that it hardly even counts as a kiss. Drinking down Rhett's feeble whine. Makes your head spin so much more than the alcohol ever did. Heat pools between your legs, pussy tightening like a vice around his pistoning cock, thick tip rubbing into those nerves over and over and over. 

You're close. 

"I love you," it slips out of him so quietly that you nearly believe it's a figment of your imagination. "I love you, I love you, I love you." 

One of your hands delves into his hair, noses colliding. Think you might be whispering it back, but you can't hear what's coming out of your mouth. Overridden by the blood rushing to your head and the slap of his skin against yours, and, and, and...

Spots appear in your vision. Body going taut as you cum around him without the slightest warning. Crying out high in your throat, forehead knocking against Rhett's, an invisible flame racing across your skin. Every thrust pushes your head higher into the clouds, could damn near float up to the ceiling if his arms weren't tightening around you, his hips stalling. A melody of whimpers bubbles out of his throat, orgasm washing over him like a tidal wave. 

You think you can feel it. The spasm of his cock and the warmth of his cum painting you white, flooding your pussy so full that you think it's already beginning to pour out of you. His hips jerk up into you, punctuated by a sickening squelch and his own broken moan. 

And yet, somehow, you've got the strength to meet his swollen lips, lazy tongues poking out to twist together like a greeting. Wet and messy as can be, saliva running down your chin, drooling like dogs in the summer sun. Rhett twists beneath you, and you're vaguely aware that the world around you is spinning, falling into the mattress beside him. 

A tickle rises in the back of your throat, forcing a cough out of you. Two purple flowers dance out onto the bed, obnoxiously vibrant and dainty. They've always been small, nothing compared to the roses Rhett's been choking up, but they look even tinier in his sweaty palm.

"Spiderwort," he murmurs after a moment, running a fingertip over their petals. Bleary blues peer flicker up to you, half-lidded and turned upward by his dumb smile.

They've always been his favorite. 

"So there was no girl at the bar?" You ask, hand wandering onto his cheek, curling around it like he's the most delicate thing on this planet. 

His head shakes. "Never." 

There's still a storm lurking outside, rattling the house, lightning and thunder striking the ground with an unmatched fury, but you hardly notice it. Too distracted by the warmth of a cowboy, his legs tangling with yours, uncaring of the mess you've made together. Kissing just for the hell of it, wandering across cheeks and peppering over old scars, musing about the memories attached. 

When you fall asleep, you're not sure, but you wake snuggled into his naked chest, his big arm looped around you like a blanket. Sunshine peeks through the gap in the curtains, the shrill tune of a bird singing her song, and for once, it's dreamy rather than irritating. 

On its own accord, your fingers drift across his sleeping face, warm and maybe the slightest bit flushed. Wandering over the scruff clinging to his jaw, finally at that length where it's grown soft to the touch. Drifting around the minuscule scar above his brow, the only remnant of the night you snuck out together and wrecked the four-wheeler. 

As far as you're aware, Royal never did find out why it started making that funny noise.

...or maybe Rhett was never asleep to begin with because when you look back down, his eyes are open. 

"Keep doin' that," he grumbles, voice deeper than the rumble of last night's thunder, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead. You don't need any further encouragement, trailing your fingertips across his face just for the hell of it.

There are things you should be saying. Discussions to be had about where this puts you and what you are to each other, but the upturn of his lips tells you a million and one words. Seriousness can wait. For now, all you want to think about is this next kiss he's planting on you.

And then another between your eyes, and another on your left cheek, one more on the tip of your nose. Slowly but surely sprawling across your face, peppering you with them so quickly that it feels like the wings of butterflies fluttering against your skin.

"Rhett!" You squeal, pushing at his jaw, but it's no use. He's rolling on top of you, and you're helpless to do anything but squirm and cry out, forced to endure all these kisses. 

As quickly as they start, they stop. 

You're half anticipating them to begin the moment your eyes peel open, but he's not even looking at you. Too focused on something next to his face, just past your wrist.

Or maybe...

"What?" You're not following. 

He leans back, brows furrowed as he looks down at his arm. 

You don't get it. What, was he expecting the tattoos to change overnight? It still looks the damn same to you—

...oh. 

That's not the same marking that has marred your skin from birth. And Rhett's turning his arm to let you see, and it's—

It's the same. Rhett's old bucking bronc, your shoe flying behind its upturned feet. It was never meant to be identical; they were meant to complete each other's picture. 

"Are you serious?" You're sputtering through the smile emerging onto your face, so wide that it shapes your eyes with it. 

And Rhett's not doing much better. Red-cheeked. Grinning from ear to ear. "We just been wrong 'bout it the whole fuckin' time."

This time, when he leans down to kiss you, there isn't a single flower to be found in your lungs. No roses. No spiderwort. Just you and him collapsing into these messy sheets, tangled together as one, matching tattoos at all. 

Separation is only temporary. Breaking apart just long enough to venture into the shower together, uncaring of the tight fit, so long as Rhett's hands are gliding along your body. Tangling together in the kitchen, waiting on the microwave to beep, feet knocking into each other beneath the table like you're five years old, and sharing breakfast at the Abbott house again.

He kisses you in the hallway while mopping up the mud he tracked in. Peppers them along the side of your neck when you stumble out onto the porch to find that a tree has fallen, blocking your driveway completely. Perry says he'll come by with a chainsaw tomorrow afternoon; he could be here within the hour, but you've got the feeling that he's already caught on to what's happened. 

In the middle of summer, you begin to suspect that some familiar flowers are beginning to grow around your home. Vibrant little buds sprout from amidst the dewy grass, nestled against the foundation of your home and roaming out into the lawn, running rampant now that the storm has run out of rain.

Roses don't grow in Wabang. Unless, of course, they're accompanied by spiderwort. 

A few kisses from a cowboy are all they've ever needed. 

[svnoohe4rts]

GAME OVER ! ― part one

masterlist . . . next

↳ PAIRING: lee heeseung x fembodied!reader

↳ SUMMARY: by accidentally ruining heeseungs chances of getting laid, you slowly but successfully start tearing down his reputation. heeseung, however, isn’t going to let it pass that easily.  

↳ WORDCOUNT: 13,4k

↳ WARNINGS: alcohol consumption, brief mention of someone vomiting, smut! fingering, brief marking minors dni! let me know if there’s anything else i should add.

↳ TAGLIST:  @ktnblrz @ckline35 @bteeznation @amourhee @hoonicookies @aliensrme @deobitifull @sweetjaemss @heeswifeyy @mulligrubsss @han8ul​ @flower-lise​ @asyleums​ @jksecret @bwljules​ @heersheysblog​ @dearhee​ @25dejulho​ @loves0ft​ @sunghoonmybeloved​ @heesuengs @tokina​ @rikakhai​ @wonieeee​ @entiways @sunghoons-hand​ (the ones in bold could not be tagged)

HEESEUNG COULDN’T EXACTLY PINPOINT THE EXACT MOMENT THE TWO OF YOU BECAME ENEMIES.

To him, it didn’t really matter. He didn’t even really see you as an enemy to begin with, you were just an extremely easy target, making it almost too easy for him to annoy - sometimes even humiliate you throughout the years; something he enjoyed doing maybe a little too much.

You, on the other hand? You knew exactly when Heeseung became your number one enemy.

You’d like to think that if Heeseung never slipped you that note in math class back in middle school, maybe you and Heeseung wouldn’t be where you were today. But sadly, Heeseung did slip you that note in math class and twelve-year-old you stupidly opened that note.

Maybe if you just threw that note away instead of reading it, you wouldn’t have to go through years of enduring Lee Heeseungs stupid ways of ticking you off. Maybe, just maybe, you would have avoided the incident that changed your and Heeseungs relationship for all eternity. But you were twelve years old, after all, and which twelve-year-old wouldn’t become curious if the cutest boy in their class slipped them a note?

Well, curiosity killed the cat. It didn’t make sense as to why the whole class was looking at you in anticipation, nor did it make sense as to why Lee Heeseung had just slipped you a note asking you to go out with him. He had never paid much attention to you before, so why would he suddenly be asking you, someone who he’d spoken to about three times in total, out?

Oh, how you wished it would’ve stayed that way.

The picture of his stupid grin as you walked up to him after class was practically burned into your mind at this point, holding the note in your hands as you told him your answer. Of course you said yes, who wouldn’t? 

And as his loud laugh, the laugh you swore made your stomach turn inside out, echoed through the hallway, pointing his finger at you with his friends laughing alongside him; Lee Heeseung became your number one enemy.

Your classmates got over the whole thing quickly, only having to endure a couple of days of their endless teasing about you actually believing he was serious when he asked you out. Middle school was hectic, and by the following Monday morning, the whole school had long forgotten about your embarrassment. Heeseung, however? He was not going to forget about it that easily.

The look on your face as he told you it was just a joke was something Heeseung would remember for the rest of his life. The way your ears turned red from sheer embarrassment and how you quickly ran off with your hair covering your face, was most definitely the funniest thing 12-year-old him had experienced; not even Sunghoon tripping on his own shoelaces during soccer practice could beat the look on your face.

That’s when Heeseung made it his number one goal in life to make your life as miserable as possible.

And he most certainly did not disappoint. From shaking your bottle of coke during lunch without you noticing it only for you to get sprayed the second you twisted the lid open, to accidentally tripping you in the hallways; he did all of it, just to see the furious expression on your face.

As high school came around, you couldn’t be more relieved. After having to put up with Heeseung for years on end, you would finally be free; a completely new school, with new friends, new teachers, and most importantly, no Heeseung.

But as you walked through the doors of what you had pictured as heaven, a place where you could finally breathe without having to look behind your shoulder every step you took; your whole world came crumbling down and so did your dreams of having a peaceful high school experience. 

With his stupid grin and his hands shoved down the pockets of his jeans, Lee Heeseung stared at you as you walked through the doors; the sparkle in his stupid doe eyes telling you everything you needed to know. At that moment, it became clear to you that getting rid of Heeseung wouldn’t be as easy as you had originally thought.

Not only did you have to endure another four years of Heeseung endless torment, but the boy also had decided to step it up compared to his childish middle school tactics. You were now in high school, and tripping you in the hallways no longer sounded appealing to Heeseung. So with his newfound status as a popular high school boy, he decided to do what people with that kind of status do best; spreading rumors.

As the news reached everyone else, it also eventually reached you. The news got everyone whispering as you walked down the halls, small giggles leaving the girls' lips and boys rolling their eyes as you walked by; leaving you completely clueless.

Until the amazing news of you being all over Heeseung at a party he attended the weekend before, a party you never even sat foot in; a party you didn’t even know existed reached you that being said. You had been quick to storm off, looking for the culprit himself, only for him to laugh in your face as you approached him. Apparently seeing the furious look on your face was amusing to him, like he hadn’t just ruined your entire high school experience. ‘’What? I’m not going to hook up with you if that’s why you’re here, I thought I made that clear at the party.’’ Had been his exact words, that shit-eating grin accompanying his words as he spoke.

For the entire four years, the four years that were supposed to be the prime time of your youth, that one rumor haunted you. All thanks to Lee Heeseung, your teenage fantasy came crashing down two weeks into your freshman year; no one forgot about the fact that 16-year-old you had tried getting in someone's pants the second you entered high school, not even four years later when the 18-year-old you graduated. 

So when you entered college, you knew better than to expect a peaceful college experience. In some way, you were thankful you had mentally prepared yourself for Lee Heeseung to magically appear. Because if you hadn’t, you probably would’ve gone insane the moment you realized that Lee Heeseung would as a matter of fact be attending the very same college as you.

Something you however forgot to prepare yourself for, the most important thing to every boy attending college; what they would personally describe as the prime of their youth - fraternities.

Now, the fraternities itself wasn’t really the problem.

Sure, you never found it very appealing, not really understanding the thrill of living with a bunch of other men which you would call your brothers and using the precious fratboy term as an excuse for their shitty grades. Everything for the brotherhood, right?

But no, that still wasn’t the problem. The problem?

Lee Heeseung. More specifically, Lee Heeseung joining a fraternity.

With his tall figure and the doe eyes that every girl seemed to love, it wasn’t exactly hard for Heeseung to join a fraternity, any fraternity as a matter of fact. The fraternities wanted Heeseung more than Heeseung wanted them it seemed, while the other boys had to fight for their lives to prove themselves worthy, to even get to the recruitment part - Heeseung had every single fraternity in his Instagram DMs; practically begging him to join them.

And so he did. 

Overnight, Heeseung went from the cute, lanky popular high school boy to your typical frat boy. He was still the very same Heeseung, he still wore the same grin as he walked down the hallways and he still wore the same dangly earring in his left ear; the same earring he had worn every day ever since he was a freshman in high school. Most importantly, however, was the fact that he was still the very same jerk, just worse. Much worse.

You guessed that it was the frat boy status that got to his head, when the attention he already received during his high school years almost tripled. Maybe it was all thanks to the number of people that showed up to the parties Heeseung and his stupid fraternity threw.

Which brings you to your current situation, sitting on a couch in someone's living room with loud music blasting through the room - a red cup in one of your hands and a very drunk girl hanging off your other arm. You had stopped listening to the girl rambling a long time ago, tuning out her voice as you sipped on the alcoholic beverage you had grabbed from some random kid standing in the kitchen.

You had no idea who the drunk girl sitting beside you was, nor did you know how much she had had to drink. But judging from the way she had practically tripped on nothing but air and from the way she had giggled with her eyes half shut when she apologized, she definitely had one too many drinks that night.

Not only had she clung onto your arm like the two of you had known each other for years, like you were a friend she hadn’t seen in a long time - when in reality, you had never even seen her before; but she also decided to go on a long rant. What the rant was about, however, was something you could not answer.

You were already uncomfortable as it was, being dragged to a party against your own will. Not necessarily because you didn’t feel like going to a party, no, that wasn’t the case.

You enjoyed partying. It was fun and you usually had a blast, as long as there was no one around to ruin your night. That special someone being no other than Lee Heeseung, of course. And with tonight's party being hosted by no other than Lee Heeseung and his stupid fraternity, you just couldn't bring yourself to enjoy it.

How could you, when Heeseung was lingering right around the corner, ready to ruin your whole night with a simple grin?

And an incredibly drunk girl telling you her whole life story only made the party even less appetizing. ‘’But I just don’t know how to get his attention, like why is he after my best friend and not me?’’ The girl whined beside you, causing you to hum in response; pretending like you were actually listening to anything she was saying as you scanned the room, looking for a way out of the situation you currently found yourself in.

‘’Do you have any tips for me? To like, get his attention or something’’

‘’Get who’s attention?’’

You immediately realized what you had just said, your eyes widening as your gaze shifted over to the girl now leaning on your shoulder. You practically just gave it away that you hadn’t been listening to a single word that had left her lips for the past thirty minutes.

She just stared at you for a moment with her eyebrows furrowed together, her eyelids still heavy before a giggle left her lips. ‘’Heeseung, stupid! I’ve been talking about him the entire night, were you not listening to me?’’

An uncomfortable chuckle left your lips as you shifted your gaze away from the girl once again as she playfully hit your arm. ‘’No, I have,’’ You tried defending yourself. ‘’I just forgot his name and needed you to remind me.’’

You almost laughed at your own lie as soon as it left your lips. Like you needed any reminding of who Lee Heeseung was. The girl beside you, however, seemed to believe your lie as yet another giggle trailed off her lips. ‘’Don’t be silly, I know you know who he is!’’ 

Her words caused you to once again look her way, now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. She just looked up at you with a grin spread across her lips, still holding onto your arm. ‘’What do you mean?’’ You asked. There was no way this random girl knew that you had known Heeseung almost your entire life, considering the fact that you only met her for the first time tonight. ‘’Well,’’ She sighed, finally letting go of your arm as she sat up straight for the first time since she slumped down next to you.

‘’I know you hooked up with him back in high school or whatever,’’

Your jaw almost hit the floor as soon as the words left her lips. When did the rumor of you allegedly trying to hook up with him turn into you actually hooking up with him? ‘’I what?’’ You almost stuttered as you spoke, the shock causing you to stumble over your own words. She nodded eagerly, the same grin still plastered on her lips. ‘’C’mon, it’s not like it’s a secret! Everyone knows you were like, one of the first girls he ever hooked up with,’’

You almost felt the need to pinch yourself, trying to figure out if this was some sick joke or not. One of the first girls he hooked up with? ‘’No, I never h-’’

‘’You don’t have to act like you didn’t, I mean, look at him! Who wouldn’t want to hook up with him?’’ She interrupted you before you even had a chance to deny the words coming out of her mouth, a sigh trailing off her lips as she finished speaking; her head hitting your shoulder once again. ‘’Isn’t he just so dreamy?’’

With one of her arms now extended, her index finger pointed toward something, or someone in the crowd. Your eyes followed her finger, your eyes eventually landing on the one and only, Heeseung himself.

Leaning against the wall, one hand shoved down the front pockets of his black jeans and a cap sitting on top of his head; his upper body leaning down as he spoke to the girl standing right in front of him. You could see him grinning as he whispered something into the girl's ear, the grin you swore you hated more than anything on the entire planet, causing you to clench your jaw in disgust the second he trailed his fingertips up and down the poor girl's bare arm, the girl you assumed to be the drunk girl sitting beside you’s best friend. 

Not only had he made people believe you tried hooking up with him, but apparently that the two of you actually hooked up. A sour taste filled your mouth as you saw the girl across the room giggle into his touch, his eyes glued to her like she was the most delicious thing he had ever seen. 

The lustful look on his face only made you even angrier. Someone needed to humble him, and they needed to humble him badly. ‘’So do you have any tips or not? Since you’ve already been with him, you probably know what he likes and stu-’’

‘’He’s shit in bed.’’

The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even think, taking yourself by surprise. Instant regret hit you, fighting against the urge to slap yourself across the face as you realized what had just left your lips. You could tell by the way the girl suddenly sat up straight that your words surprised her just as much as they had surprised you. ‘’What?’’

You considered just laughing off, telling her you were just joking and that she should just go for it. But with your eyes still glued to Heeseung standing across the room with his hand now placed firmly on her waist, disgust once more filled your senses. That’s when the idea popped into year head. ‘’Yeah, like he’s really bad, he has no idea what he’s doing,’’ You continued speaking, looking over at the now shocked girl.

Her eyelids were no longer droopy like they had been a few minutes earlier, her eyes now wide open as she stared at you in pure shock. ‘’But,’’ She stuttered, almost like she refused to believe your words. ‘’Everyone says he’s like a sex god or something!’’ She blurted out. A dry chuckle left your lips as you shook your head. ‘’Heeseung? He’s the furthest thing possible from a sex god.’’

The girl sitting beside you only stared at you for a moment, her lips parted in shock before leaning back on the couch; mumbling something indistinctive under her breath. ‘’Are you sure? The two of you hooked up in high school after all, maybe he’s gotten better?’’

Your eyes darted over to the wall which Heeseung was leaning against once again, a small grin forming on your lips as you spotted him now pressing kisses against the girl's neck. ‘’We’ve hooked up in college too,’’ You let out. ‘’And he’s still just as bad.’’

If Heeseung got to ruin your reputation, not only in high school but apparently in college as well, it was only fair that you got to tear his reputation down as well. What could such a little lie possibly do to his indestructible reputation, anyways?

The girl beside you let out a gasp before slapping one of her hands over her mouth, her eyes darting over to Heeseung as well. ‘’But there’s just no way,’’ She mumbled, leaning forwards as she kept her eyes glued on the boy standing across the room. ‘’Like bad how, exactly?’’

‘’Like can’t make girls cum at all type of bad.’’

Another gasp left the girl's lips as you brought the red cup you had been holding in your hand this entire time to your lips, a small smile still plastered on your lips as you sipped on the alcohol. ‘’But everyone says he’s amazing,’’ She mumbled, her eyes gaze shifting over to you. Another chuckle left your lips as you shook your head in response. ‘’Well, that’s just what Heeseung wants everyone to believe,’’ You replied, leaning back on the couch.

‘’Have you ever heard another girl saying that he’s good?’’

Your eyes met the girl's eyes, silence falling upon the two of you for a moment as she thought about your question. You had no idea if she was just drunk and going with whatever you were saying or if she had actually never heard another girl saying that Lee Heeseung was in fact a sex god, but you had to hold back a laugh as she shook her head in disbelief. ‘’You’re right, I don’t think I have.’’

Was he really that bad?

‘’Exactly.’’ You chuckled. ‘’He just wants everyone to believe he’s some type of sex god, when in reality he doesn’t even know how to finger a girl.’’

In reality, you had no idea what Heeseung was like in bed. As a matter of fact, you didn’t even want to know; but you could sure as hell pretend like you knew. And in your head, his good looks were incredibly deceiving as there was actually no way Lee Heeseung knew how to satisfy a girl. Not with that foul mouth of his.

‘’Oh my god,’’ the girl mumbled under her breath, her eyes still wide from the sudden shock of having her whole image of the Lee Heeseung being ripped to pieces. ‘’I can’t let my best friend hook up with him then!’’ Her words made you chuckle as you looked over at Heeseung once again. 

A small smirk formed on your lips as you watched the girl stumbling across the room, making her way towards where her best friend and Heeseung were standing; his head dipped in the crock of her neck. The girl grabbed her friend's arm, the way she practically ripped her away from Heeseung's grip almost made you laugh out loud as you watched Heeseung stare at the two walking away from him with a confused look plastered on his face.

Game over, Lee Heeseung.

‘’You what?’’

The boy sitting in front of you almost choked on his drink as you told him what had gone down the previous weekend. ‘’I hope I ruined his chances of getting laid that night.’’ You chuckled as you shook your head, remembering the look on Heeseungs face as his potential hook up was ripped away from him. 

‘’This isn’t about him getting laid or not Y/N, why would you even tell someone you hooked up with him in the first place? Like the rumor wasn’t bad as it was,’’ Sungchan exclaimed, his eyes wide as he stared at you. You just rolled your eyes in response, crossing both your arms over your chest.

Sungchan wasn’t wrong. He had been there with you in high school when Heeseung first started spreading the rumor of you being all over him at some party. Sungchan was also the only one who believed you when you said it wasn’t true, considering the fact that he had been with you the entire night you were supposedly at the party as Heeseung claimed you were. 

‘’The girl was drunk, like out of her mind drunk. I don’t think she even remembers speaking to me.’’

The boy sitting across the table from you let out a sigh, shaking his head. ‘’It’s gonna bite you in the ass, I’m telling you.’’ He mumbled, raising both his eyebrows as he spoke. You just stared at him, shooting him a sarcastic smile. ‘’C’mon, you can’t deny that it was a good way of ruining his night though.’’

A chuckle left Sungchans lips as he leaned forwards, wrapping his fingers around the drink placed in front of him. ‘’I guess it was.’’ His words caused a grin to form on your lips, leaning forwards; wrapping your own hands over his which was still wrapped around the plastic bottle. ‘’Of course it was, otherwise I wouldn’t have done it smartass.’’

Sungchan chuckled as he spotted the playful grin on your face, pushing your hands off his own. ‘’Careful, you don’t want people thinking you’re trying to get me into bed as well.’’

You met Sungchan in biology class on the first day of your freshman year in high school. The Sungchan you met back then however, was nothing like the Sungchan sitting in front of you now. 

The Sungchan you met back in high school was nothing but a quiet, introverted and awfully shy kid. You, however, were so excited to make new friends that you had practically forced yourself onto the poor boy as you got assigned to sit next to him in biology. 

Looking back, you almost cringed whenever your mind flashed back to your first encounter with the boy. He had stared at you like you were crazy for talking to him, something you completely missed back then. You were just so excited to make new friends, someone who didn’t know you from middle school.

But no matter how cringe it was looking back at it, you were thankful you actually did speak to him. And you knew Sungchan was just as thankful. In a way, Sungchan had you to thank for turning him into the boy sitting in front of you today. 

Only within the first couple of months of your blossoming friendship Sungchan went from the introverted and lanky high school kid to this new almost extroverted and cheerful kid. Not necessarily because you were the most extroverted kid ever, but mainly because the friendship the two of you shared was so genuine. It was his first time ever sharing that kind of friendship with someone, as well as your first time.

Rolling your eyes once again at his witty reference, you playfully hit his arm. ‘’In your wildest dreams.’’

Not only had your best friend dramatically changed in terms of personality, but lookswise as well. He was no longer that lanky, almost awkward looking boy he used to be, he was more mature looking now. Sure, he still had that boyish look to him, but it was nothing compared to what he used to look like. 

His shoulder had gotten significantly broader and his jawline had gotten more defined as the years passed, and you almost even dared to call him handsome. 

Or you knew he was. There was no dancing around it, he was attractive. And if it wasn’t because of the relationship the two of you shared, maybe you would’ve actually considered hooking up with him one day; if you weren’t best friends, that being said. But you were, and there was no way you’d ever even consider it.

You realized you had been staring at the boy sitting across from you for a little too long, snapping out of your wandering thoughts as you unlocked your phone laying on the table in front of you to check the time. ‘’I need to go, I need to use the bathroom before my next class starts.’’

Sungchan nodded in response, shooting the drink in front of him across the table, the plastic bottle grabbing your attention; a confused look plastered on your face it slid across the table. ‘’Take it, in case you get thirsty during class.’’

A small grin replaced the confused look on your face as you stood up, grabbing the already half-empty drink. ‘’Be careful, we don’t want people to think you’re in love with me or something.’’ You winked, causing Sungchan to roll his eyes as he pretend to gag. ‘’Don’t make me take it back,’’ he warned you, causing you to quickly shove it down your bag. ‘’See you after class, Chan!’’ You exclaimed, already walking away from the table; waving him goodbye with a smirk on your face, watching as he shook his head before going back to eating his food.

With one earbud placed inside of your ear and the other hanging down your body, you walked through the hallways; music blasting through your headphones as you made your way toward the bathrooms.

The hallways were almost always empty at this time of the day, with every student busy eating their lunches. Lunchtime was always your favorite time of the day, mainly because you got to hang out with Sungchan but also because everything felt almost peaceful.

No one could've prepared you for how noisy college would be. You thought nothing could top the high school corridors, with a bunch of teenage boys yelling and fighting each other in the hallways and girls giggling while gossiping about something on their phones. You were fully convinced that college would be nothing like that, because when you enter college you’re no longer a kid. You’re grown, and the boys no longer fight in the hallways and the girls no longer stand huddled together against the lockers.

You were wrong.

Even though it was nothing like it was in high school, the boys no longer argued about football practice, and the girls no longer gossiped about the cute boys; in a way, maybe it was just like high school. But football got replaced by arguments consisting of when they should host their next frat party and the giggling about cute boys got replaced by gossiping about how the fratboys fucked their brains out. 

Maybe college was just like high school after all. But that’s why you appreciated lunchtime, because the hallways felt awfully quiet for the first and only time during the day. Today, for example.

You couldn’t help but nod your head to the beat of the song blasting through your headphones, enjoying the peace and quiet as you walked down the empty hallway. That was until you heard distant arguing over your loud music, that being said.

Just as you were about to turn the corner, your steps came to a halt. Your eyebrows furrowed together as you slowly pulled your earbud out of your ear, lowering the volume as you tried to make out where the arguing came from; wanting to avoid bumping into a group of friends arguing, or even worse - a couple arguing.

That’s when you heard a familiar voice. The voice made you raise your eyebrows, your lips parting as you pressed your back against the lockers behind you; trying your best to hide yourself so the people arguing further down the hall wouldn’t notice your presence.

You listened intensely, trying your best to make out what the people were saying. But most of all, you were desperately trying to figure out whose familiar voice it was you were hearing. It was a voice you knew all too well, and the voice almost sent shivers down your spine, yet you just couldn’t figure out who it belonged to. 

You know you shouldn’t look, you really shouldn’t. It’s none of your business, and you don’t want to make it your business either. But curiosity got the best of you and you can’t help but slowly peek from behind the lockers as discreetly as you possibly can, only to get a glimpse of the people arguing.

As soon as your eyes land on the figures standing further down the hall you realize just why the voice sounded so familiar to you. His lanky figure was leaning against the lockers, a girl standing in front of him with her back facing you, playing with her fingers nervously behind her back. You immediately recognized the boy as Heeseung, and the girl, well, as the girl from the party the previous weekend.

The girl you had ruined his chances of getting into bed with.

Your back hit the lockers behind you once again as you slapped your hand over your mouth to prevent a gasp from leaving your lips, your eyes wide as you realized the situation unfolding right in front of you.

You couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes during the quick glance you got at him. His big doe eyes were no longer sparkling like they normally did, no, instead he almost looked sad. Something you had never seen before, something you didn’t even think Heeseung was capable of feeling.

‘’I just don’t get it Yunjin,’’ Heeseung let out, both frustration and hurt lingering in his voice as he spoke. You discreetly peeked your head around the lockers once again, trying your best to remain quiet so they wouldn’t notice you literally spying on their ongoing discussion. Heeseung dragged one of his hands through his hair in annoyance, his eyes still glued to the shorter girl standing in front of him.

‘’It’s just, I don’t think this is going to work out,’’ The girl whose name you noted to be Yunjin let out nervously, still playing with her fingers behind her back. ‘’But why? Where is this coming from?’’ Heeseung pressed, his eyebrows slightly furrowed together as he spoke.

Your lips slightly parted as you listened to the two speaking, your eyebrows slightly furrowing together as well as you tried figuring out what was going on. What was Heeseung doing standing in the middle of the hallway during lunchtime, arguing with the girl from the party? Was he really that butthurt from her getting dragged away?

A sigh left Yunjins lips before she mimicked Heeseung's actions by running her fingertips through her hair as well. ‘’Look, Heeseung,’’ She mumbled, Heeseungs eyes still glued to her as he waited for her to continue speaking. ‘’I’m sure you’re a great guy and all, I mean, the past two weeks we’ve spent together has been great,’’

So she wasn’t just some random girl. The two of them had actually been seeing each other, your eyes widening as you realized what was going on. Were you about to witness Lee Heeseung getting dumped? ‘’It’s just that I’ve heard some things about you and I just no longer see you and me being a thing.’’

You had to hold back a gasp as the words trailed off her lips. You knew that if you made as much as one single noise, they both would hear you and Heeseung would’ve probably killed you for listening to their conversation; considering the look on his face, you knew this wasn’t the right time to mess with him. 

But you also couldn’t help but wonder what things she had heard about him. Maybe her friend actually did remember speaking to you and had told her everything you had told her, about how shitty he was in bed? You quickly disregarded the thought, remembering how incredibly drunk that poor girl had been. There was no way that your little lie was the reason behind this.

‘’What things? You can’t just tell me you want to stop seeing me because of something you heard, at least tell me what you’ve heard so I can clear things up!’’

Yet another sigh left Yunjins lips, her gaze meeting the ground. You could tell Heeseung was only getting more and more frustrated with the girl standing in front of him by the way he was now nibbling on his bottom lip. ‘’Just accept the fact that I don’t want to see you anymore, Heeseung.’’

If it wasn’t for the fact that you absolutely despised Heeseung, you would’ve felt bad for him. You could tell that her words hurt him and for a split second, you actually did feel the tiniest bit of compassion for him. That was until you realized it was Lee Heeseung, and the tiniest bit of compassion you had just felt went away. ‘’I need to go now,’’ Yunjin mumbled, picking up the bag she had placed beside her on the floor.

You watched as she walked past Heeeung, making her way down the opposite way of the hallway; Heeseungs lips parting like he was about to say something. He turned around, his back now facing you as he watched the girl make her way down the hallway but not a single word left his lips.

You should’ve turned around and left ages ago, yet you couldn’t force yourself to actually walk away; yet look away. Your eyes were still intensely watching Heeseung as he ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a loud curse as the girl went around the corner.

It wasn’t until Heeseung turned around and his eyes met yours you realized you were in fact still staring. Your eyes widened, quickly placing your back against the locker once again. You held your breath, praying that he hadn’t actually seen you peeking from behind the lockers, mumbling curses as you shut your eyes.

Suddenly, you heard him make his way down the hallway. You immediately opened your eyes as you realized his footsteps were approaching your end of the hallway, and not the opposite. You quickly grabbed your bag, sprinting the way you came; still mumbling curses as you ran down the hallway. 

It wasn’t until you reached the classroom where your next class was being held you slowed down, panting as you bent over, placing your hands on top of your thighs as you desperately tried to catch your breath. You looked behind you, scared that you would spot Heeseung standing there; but to your surprise, the hallway was completely empty. You let out a sigh of relief, placing your bag on the floor as you ran your fingertips through your hair.

You were thankful that it was still lunchtime and no one had seen you running down the hallways like your whole life depended on it, embarrassment washing over you as you realized that there was a possibility that anyone had seen you.

Including Heeseung.

The thought of Heeseung seeing you, spying on him and then running for your life made you want to sink through the ground. You prayed that he hadn't actually seen you and you had been quick enough for him to miss your eyes peeking from behind those lockers. You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought of Heeseung endlessly teasing you about it, making your life even more of a living hell.

By the time the first student arrived, you had managed to catch your breath and you were even able to shoot the other student a small smile as they greeted you. The small amount of sweat that had formed around your hairline however was still visible and you noticed how the student slightly furrowed their eyebrows together at the sight.

Wiping your forehead, you let out a sigh as you realized you didn’t even get to go to the bathroom. Spying on Heeseung and seeing him get dumped wasn’t as worth it as you originally thought as the urge to use the toilet crept upon you.

Lee Heeseung and his ways of constantly ruining your life. 

The picture of Heeseung getting brutally rejected kept lingering in your mind the following days. You had to hold back a laugh from leaving your throat every time the image of his furrowed eyebrows popped up in your mind, like right now for example; a small smile forming on your lips as the image of him running his hands through his hair in frustration once again flashed through your mind.

Not only had you caused Heeeung to not get laid, but you had also witnessed him getting dumped - all within the spawn of three days.

Some might call it luck, some may say it was unfortunate for him; but you? You’d like to call it karma. He had it coming, after all.

To your surprise, however, Heeseung hadn’t bothered you all week  - something that was incredibly unusual. Normally, he’d go out of his way at least once a day to annoy you, everything from some smart remark about the clothes you were wearing to blocking your locker. 

But every time you walked past him, he didn’t even look your way.

At first, it surprised you. You had prepared yourself for some remark of some sort as you spotted him walking in your direction. But the remark never came, instead he just simply passed by without even laying his eyes on you. It left you confused, purely because something like that hadn’t happened in years. And as the week passed, and Heeseung didn’t even look your way once; you started to feel accomplished instead of confused.

Maybe you truly did manage to humble him by ruining his chances of getting laid that night.

‘’Earth to Y/N,’’

Sungchans voice snapped you out of your thoughts, the image of Heeseung getting blurry as Sungchan waved one of his hands in front of your face; leaning over so he could get a better look at your face. You blinked your eyes, clearing your throat as you put the pencil you had unknowingly been chewing on down on the bed. A chuckle was heard coming from Sungchan. ‘’What are you thinking about?’’

His question almost caused a grin to form on your lips once again, shaking your head in response. ‘’Nothing important,’’ You replied, flashing him a taunting smile as you leaned back on your bed.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Sungchan to hang out after school. Normally, Chenle would join the two of you as well; if he wasn’t busy hanging out at the frat, that being said.

You had met Chenle through Sungchan. The two of them knew each other before you even met Sungchan, and even though they weren’t exactly friends they usually hung out in a group of other people through out middle school. It wasn’t until Chenle showed up at some high school party you and Sungchan had attended together, however, that you met him. 

That night had been the first time Chenle had ever gotten drunk and Sungchan was the only person he could recognize in his drunken state, which led to him following him around the whole night like a lost puppy. You had been there to help clean himself up after he had vomited in a bush outside the party, before he begged both you and Sungchan with tear-stained cheeks never to tell a single soul about what had happened. With a crying Chenle and with small giggles trailing off both your and Sungchans lips, a new friendship formed.

Chenle, to this very day, still denied that night ever happened. You weren’t sure if it was because he was still embarrassed about it, or if he just didn’t want his new frat buddies to find out about his miserable first experience of getting drunk. But one thing was for sure, he did not give up on his party life because of that minor incident. Which is why it didn’t come as a surprise to you when he decided to try getting into some of the fraternities the second he sat foot in college.

You were happy for him when he finally got into one of them, excited about all the parties he’d be able to get both you and Sungchan into with his new position as an official fratboy. But just like always, the universe seemed to have something personal against you when it turned out that Chenle had, as a matter of fact, gotten accepted into the very same fraternity as Lee Heeseung.

To make things even worse, the two of them became friends. Not only did they become friends, but good friends. Chenle hadn’t been around in high school like Sungchan had, therefore he didn’t exactly know the history you and Heeseung shared - even though you had told him about it multiple times. He always just shrugged it off, he never really understood why it was such a big deal anyways. To him, it was just a harmless rumor that hadn’t actually caused you any harm.

Maybe if he knew about the torment Heeseung had put you through ever since middle school, he would’ve actually understood why the rumor of you trying to get in his pants was a big deal.

‘’Whatever you say,’’ Sungchan mumbled, leaning against the headboard of your bed. ‘’Have you even been listening to what I’ve been saying?’’ You looked over at him, a small apologetic smile on your lips. Sungchan let out a groan as he spotted your smile, indicating that you hadn’t been listening to a single word that had left his lips.

‘’I asked you about the party tomorrow night.’’

Now it was your turn to let out a groan, leaning back so you were laying flat on your back. You put your hands over your face, rubbing your eyes in annoyance as your friend reminded you of the upcoming party. Chenle’s upcoming party. ‘’I really don’t want to go,’’ Your words came out muffled due to your hands covering your mouth as you spoke. ‘’You have to, it’s his birthday Y/N,’’ Sungchan argued, lightly slapping your legs; causing you to peak through your fingers.

The serious look on his face told you he wasn’t playing around. You stared at him for a moment before a sigh escaped your lips, letting your hands fall off your face. ‘’I know, I know.’’

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to attend your friend's birthday party. There was no way you’d actually miss it, he was one of your best friends after all; the only problem was that you knew you’d bump into Heeseung.

With Heeseung and Chenle being practically best friends, and with you and Chenle also being best friends, there was just no way you’d be able to avoid him. You were there to celebrate your friend, and so was he; leaving you with no other choice but to hang out with Lee Heeseung - against your will. ‘’You can’t avoid it just because Heeseung will be there,’’ Sungchan let out, his eyes still glued to you.

You rolled your eyes in response. ‘’I know and I won’t. I’m not going to miss my friend's birthday party just because he’s there.’’

Well, a part of you wanted to do exactly that. But you know that would make you a shitty friend, knowing how fed up Chenle already was with the relationship you and Heeseung shared. He just wanted the two of you to get along and not argue every time the two of you as much as walked by each other, how hard could it possibly be? 

Well, harder than he could possibly phantom. ‘’Whatever you say,’’ Sungchan mumbled once again, tearing his eyes off you as he picked up the notepad laying in front of him; placing it in his lap. ‘’You can just avoid him as much as you can and no one ends up getting hurt.’’ His words made a dry chuckle leave your lips. ‘’Like avoiding him is possible when Chenle is so far up his ass.’’

You could tell Sungchan was holding back a laugh by the way his lips almost twitched into a smile. He knows he shouldn’t laugh, he knows he should tell you off for speaking about your friend like that; but he also knows it is true. He knows Chenle views Heeseung like he’s some type of higher being, when in reality he’s just a jerk. But he fits the frat boy stereotype perfectly, and Chenle wanted nothing more than to fit right into that role as well. 

‘’Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the big bad monster,’’ Sungchan playfully grinned at you, your lips parting before playfully kicking him in the arm, a chuckle trailing off his lips as he dodged your kick. ‘’You better, or he might come after you next.’’

Now standing in the hallway where your friend's birthday party was being hosted, you immediately regretted coming. The smell of men's perfume filled your nose the second you stepped into the house, making you scrunch your nose in disgust as the scent only continued to get worse. What did you expect of a house filled with nothing but boys?

‘’Do you want me to hand him the gift or do you want to do it?’ Sungchan mumbled into your ear as you walked through the already packed living room, greeting people as you walked past. ‘’You can do it, you were the one who bought it anyways.’’ You mumbled back, shooting a smile at some familiar faces in the crowd as you continued making your way through the crowd.

You had practically begged Sungchan to be the one buying him a gift, claiming you had no idea what to get a frat boy for his birthday. Not that Sungchan knew any better, but at least he was a man himself and had a somewhat better idea of what to get another boy his age for his birthday. He eventually decided to go with a nice bottle of whiskey, a bottle that you knew Chenle would proudly place on top of one of the shelves in his room as decoration. 

‘’Not only do I have to be the one buying it, but the one giving it to him as well?’’ Sungchan muttered into your ear, causing you to roll your eyes. You were about to argue back, but a loud yell coming from in front of you interrupted your thoughts. ‘’You made it!’’

Your eyes shifted over to the direction where the voice was coming from, a big smile spreading across your lips as you spotted Chenle making his way toward you. ‘’You really think I’d miss my best friend's birthday party? Who do you take me for?’’ You giggled as you felt his arms wrap around your body, pulling you into a tight hug. He slowly rocked your body back and forth, a chuckle trailing off his lips. ‘’I’m just joking, I know you wouldn’t.’’

You watched with a big smile on your lips as Chenle pulled the taller boy beside you into a tight hug as well, a chuckle trailing off your lips as the two slightly stumbled backward. ‘’Be careful, I don’t want to drop your birthday present,’’ Sungchan let out, pushing the shorter boy off himself with a chuckle trailing off his lips. An ironic gasp left Chenle’s lips as he spotted the brown bag Sungchan was holding in one of his hands.

‘’You got me a gift? Guys, you didn’t have to do that!’’

Sungchan only rolled his eyes in response as he handed him the bag, which he didn’t even bother wrapping before leaving for the party. With his shaky handwriting and a pen that almost didn’t even work, he had written ‘To: Chenle, From: Sungchan and Y/N’ across the brown paper bag. You had scolded him for it when you had met up with him, to which he only replied that you should’ve done it yourself if you weren’t pleased with his efforts.

Chenle was quick to tear the paper bag off, only to reveal a nice bottle of whiskey. This was the first time you even saw the bottle, putting your trust in Sungchan when he said he’d buy the fanciest bottle he could find. And he did not disappoint, it was a nice bottle. And judging by the way Chenle’s eyes lit up as he held the bottle up, you could tell he found it just as nice.

‘’Dude, I’m totally putting this in my room for everyone to see,’’ You had to stifle a laugh as the words trailed off his lips, confirming what you had originally thought. Maybe you knew your friend better than you thought. Before you knew it, you were pressed firmly against his chest once again; a squeal leaving your lips as he lifted you up into the air. ‘’Thank you so much,’’ He excitedly let out, refusing to put you down even though you were now giggling and playfully hitting his arm, begging him to put you down.

After Chenle ran off to show his friends the bottle he had just received, boosting about it being the nicest bottle he had ever seen, the night went on.

You stayed by Sungchans side the entire night, chatting with each other over the loud music. Even though Sungchan was no longer the same awkward and introverted kid he once was, he still wasn’t the type to enjoy parties. He could appreciate the social aspect of it, but the drinking? Not so much. But Chenle had managed to get him to drink various drinks throughout the night, something Sungchan usually never did, but it was his best friend's birthday party after all; and who was he to refuse his requests?

‘’When do you think they’re bringing out the cake?’’ Sungchan let out, his eyes scanning the packed room from the corner where the two of you were standing. A chuckle left your lips as your eyes scanned the room as well, spotting Chenle dancing in the crowd. ‘’Not anytime soon,’’ You sighed, taking a sip of the alcohol Chenle had poured you. ‘’Then I have time to run to the bathroom,’’ Sungchan mumbled beside you, placing his cup on the table beside him. You only nodded in response, your eyes darting over to look at him again.

‘’Just be quick,’’ You let out to which he chuckled. ‘’Are you scared the big scary monster is going to get you?’’ He smirked at you, causing you to roll your eyes at the mention of Heeseung. ‘’You’re so funny.’’ You let out, glaring at him as he winked at you before disappearing into the crowd.

Your eyes scanned the room once again, the small smile returning to your lips as you watched Chenle dancing across the room. For a moment, you considered joining him; it was his birthday after all, and he looked like he was having way more fun than you judging by the big smile on his face as he danced with his friends.

Speaking of Heeseung, you had yet to even see him.

The thought, however, barely even crossed your mind before you felt a strong grip around your wrist. You didn’t even get to look at the person who was now holding onto your wrist before you were suddenly dragged up the stairs leading to the second floor, the second floor which Chenle had made very clear was off limits.

‘’I mean it, do not go on the second floor,’’ The serious look on his face as he told you had almost made you laugh, like he was telling you the most serious thing ever. ‘’I wasn’t planning on going up there begin with.’’ You chuckled, raising one of your eyebrows. Chenle let out a sigh before shaking his head. ‘’No, I mean it Y/N,’’

‘’Do not go on the second floor.’’

This time, you could no longer hold back your laughter. Chenle just rolled his eyes at your reaction, getting annoyed that you weren’t taking him seriously. ‘’I’m serious,’’ He whined, watching as you bent over the bed laughing, holding your stomach. ‘’The boys hate when people go up there and they’d literally kill me if they ever found out my friends went up there.’’

The boys, as he liked to refer to them as, were in fact his fellow frat buddies. You wiped your eyes, rolling them before shaking your head. ‘’Don’t worry, you can tell the boys that I wasn’t planning on it.’’

Well, you weren’t. But with the person now dragging you up the stairs, you had no other choice than to follow them as their grip around your wrist was stronger than you; despite your desperate efforts to try to snatch your arm away. The darkness made it almost impossible for you to see who the person was, which only made you even more nervous.

‘’What the fuck,’’ You let out as you reached the top floor, the person in front of you finally letting go of your wrist. ‘’What are you doing?’’ You exclaimed, your gaze darting down to look at your wrist which was now slightly throbbing in pain from the steady grip. ‘’No, what the fuck are you doing?’’

You recognized the voice faster than you would’ve liked. Your eyes immediately darted back up, only to come face to face with Heeseung. Your eyes slightly widened as you scanned his face, his eyebrows furrowed together and his lips pressed into a thin line; he was angry. He was really, really angry. 

A chuckle trailed off your lips after a second of nothing but silence. ‘’Careful dragging me up here, people might think you’re trying to fuck me.’’ You hissed at him, knowing your words will only tick him off even more. 

Over the years, you learned how to bite back whenever he tried getting on your nerves. The first time you had talked back, his eyes had widened for a split second; something he never expected you to do. But as the years passed, it no longer surprised him and now he found himself laughing in your face at your desperate attempts to defend yourself.

Only he didn’t laugh this time.

‘’Everyone already seems to think we’ve fucked so it doesn’t really matter, does it?’’

Another dry chuckle left your throat. ‘’Your own lie biting you in the ass, Heeseung?’’ You glared at him, A sarcastic chuckle leaving his lips as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration, just like he had done when you witnessed him getting dumped; his eyes looking everywhere but at you. 

‘’Why are you telling people I can’t make a girl cum?’’

His eyes met yours as he finished speaking, his big doe eyes squinted as he stared at you. You just stared at him for a moment, both shock and amusement washing over you. So the girl had remembered what you had told her after all. And not only had she remembered, but the words had somehow reached Heeseung which meant that she was now telling other people about it.

‘’You haven’t even slept with me, so why the fuck would you even say that?’’ He continued as you only stood there, staring at him while trying to process what had happened. 

You had unknowingly spread a rumor about Lee Heeseung, the boy who once ruined your whole reputation by once spreading a rumor about you. 

‘’For the exact same reason you told the whole school I tried sleeping with you!’’

Heeseung clenched his jaw as he groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘’Really? That was years ago now Y/N!’’ He exclaimed, his eyes still glued to you. ‘’Well since someone came to me claiming that we slept together the rumor still seems to be relevant,’’ You hissed, crossing your arms over your chest. Heeseung let out a curse under his breath as the words left your mouth, shaking his head in disbelief.

‘’You should be thankful, it’s not like it’s a bad rumor.’’ He hissed back. ‘’Are you kidding me? You made everyone believe I was some kind of attention whore,’’ You defended yourself. This was the first time you ever spoke about the whole rumor thing with Heeseung, and only now did you realize that he had no idea how his stupid rumor affected your high school years.

Heeseung once again let out a groan in annoyance. ‘’So you decided to make that rumor even worse by adding even more lies to it?’’ He spat at you. You shook your head in response, a small smile forming on your lips. ‘’No, I just did it so you wouldn’t get laid.’’

‘’Well now I won’t be getting laid ever again! Why would you tell Chaeryeong out of all people? She never knows how to keep her mouth shut!’’

You raised one of your eyebrows in confusion. You had no idea who Chaeryeong was, you had never even heard of her before; until it hit you. The girl you had told all about Heeseung and how incredibly bad he was in bed must’ve been Chaeryeong. Even though you felt like laughing in his face, you decided to not do so. You didn’t feel like putting your whole life on the line today.

‘’I’m going back downstairs.’’

You had already turned around as the words left your mouth, your back facing him as you made your way towards the stairs. However, Heeseung was not done with the conversation the two of you were having; causing him to once again grab onto your wrist, this time to prevent you from walking away.

You were about to curse him out, anger building up inside of you as you once again felt his tight grip around your wrist. The sound of someone coming up the stairs behind you, however, interrupted your thoughts.

You immediately looked over at Heeseung, fear replacing the previous angry expression you had worn on your face. Heeseung wore the exact same expression on his face, his face going pale as he remembered his own rule. He wasn’t even supposed to bring someone up there in the first place.

‘’Heeseung?’’

Your panic only grew as you recognized the voice as no other than Chanle’s. You kept your eyes glued on Heeseung, who only looked at you with the same amount of fear in his. You wanted to slap him across the face for not quickly thinking of a solution, for a way to avoid Chenle walking up the stairs and spotting the two of you; he had been the one who had dragged you up there after all. Not only did you not want your friend to see you standing alone with Lee Heeseung, but you knew he’d scold you for even going up there in the first place.

But Heeseung just stood there, not moving an inch - his grip on your arm only tightening for each second that passed.

‘’Bro, are you up here? We’re gonna bring out the cake soon,’’ Chenle’s voice only got closer which only contributed to your panic. You could tell Heeseung panicked as well judging by the way his eyes were now darting around the hallway, looking for a way out of the current situation he found himself in.

You were about to snatch your arm away, not wanting to stand around anymore, getting ready to quietly slip into one of the doors beside you. At this point you didn’t even care about the one rule Chenle had ordered you to follow, you’d much rather he found you in one of the bedrooms rather than him spotting you with Heeseung.

Heeseung, however, seemed to have other plans. Before you could even consider where to escape, you felt yourself being pulled to the side; almost causing a yelp to leave your throat as you suddenly felt Heeseung press his hand over your mouth.

Your back suddenly hit his chest, causing your eyes to widen. You had never been this close to Heeseung in your entire life and the fact that his hand was firmly placed over your mouth was stopping you from making as much as a single sound. Not only could you feel Heeseungs hot breath fanning across your neck, but the room he had just pulled you into was pitch black as well; making it impossible for you to even see your surroundings.

But judging by the way Heeseung had you pressed up again this chest, you figured the room couldn’t be that big. You knew Heeseung well enough to know that he would never hold you this close voluntarily. 

His touch sent shivers down your spine, and it most definitely wasn’t the type of shiver that sent butterflies flying in your stomach. No, you almost felt sick to your stomach as you realized it was the Lee Heeseungs hand placed over your mouth, his rough fingers touching your lips - and breathing down your neck.

‘’Don’t you dare make a single sound, okay?’’ He hissed into your ear, speaking so quietly that you almost didn’t even hear him. You only nodded in response, too scared to even utter a single breath.

The whole situation almost felt surreal to you. 

The closest you had ever been to Heeseung was whenever his hands ruffled through your hair or whenever he’d accidentally bump into you walking through the hallway, but other than that he always kept a safe distance from you. But there you were, closer to him than you had ever been before with your back pressed firmly against his chest - something you never thought would happen, nor was it something you had wished for.

You could hear footsteps approaching from outside the door, feeling the grip that Heeseung had on you tighten as they came closer. You weren’t too sure as to why he was holding onto you, almost like he expected you to run out of there if he let you go. Not that it mattered, you were too paralyzed by the whole situation to even consider moving anyways.

As you heard the footsteps slowly descend back down the stairs, you allowed yourself to breathe; grabbing onto Heeseungs hand that was still covering your mouth and ripping it away from your face. A gasp left your lips as you were finally able to breathe properly, slightly stumbling forwards, trying your best to get away from Heeseungs presence. 

‘’What the fuck!’’ You hissed at him, turning around to face him; not that you could see him. The room was still pitch black from Heeseung never turning on the light. Not that it really mattered, you hoped that he didn’t need to see the angry expression you wore on your face for him to understand how mad you were - the anger lingering in your voice speaking for itself.

But to your surprise, it seemed like Heeseung didn’t quite catch onto your hints as you once more felt his hot breath against your throat; causing your eyes to widen. ‘’I told you to be quiet,’’ He hissed into your ear, causing you to slightly panic now that you couldn’t see just how close he was standing to you.

You desperately put your hands on top of his chest, getting ready to push him away from you. Your panic only continued to grow as you felt him quickly grab onto both your hands, bringing them down to his side; his hands still holding onto yours. ‘’Why do you always have to be so goddamn difficult?’’

You swore you could feel his lips brush against the skin of your neck as he spoke, sending shivers against your spine once more. This time, however, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what the feeling now rushing your body meant. You weren’t sure if being in the dark, pressed up against Heeseung had made you lose your mind or if your heart actually skipped a beat as his lips slightly touched your neck; you weren’t too sure if you wanted to find out either.

All you knew was that you needed to get out of there. And you needed to get out of there quickly.

But it seemed like your legs picked the perfect timing to deceive you, refusing to move as much as an inch as you stayed frozen to the spot; Heeseung still holding onto both your hands, now feeling his hot breath against your face. It wasn’t until a quiet chuckle escaped his lips that you realized you were still in fact staring at him, your eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. ‘’I can feel you staring at me, you know.’’ He whispered.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw yourself out of the door, get away from his presence; anything. Yet no matter how hard you tried to get your body to move, you simply just couldn’t. Not only was your body refusing to move, but your ability to speak also seemed to be gone as not a single word left your lips. Heeeung remained quiet for a second, before leaning even closer to you.

‘’Don’t tell me that’s your heart pounding?’’

His words only freaked you out even more as you realized that your heart was in fact pounding. You hadn’t even realized it until he pointed it out, turning you into even more of a nervous wreck. You weren’t sure if you were nervous because of your best friend almost catching you pressed up against Lee Heeseung, or if it was Heeseungs presence that made you nervous. Both options seemed equally bad to you.

Another chuckle trailed off Heeseung's lips as you failed to respond to his question. ‘’Never knew I had that effect on you,’’

Normally, you would’ve just rolled your eyes or told him to fuck off. But in a situation like this, in a completely dark room where you had no vision of your surroundings with him only moving closer and closer to you, those options were completely off the table. You wanted to tell him how wrong he was, that he did not have that effect on you, but your heartbeat definitely told not only Heeseung, but you as well, otherwise. 

You had been preoccupied with your own racing thoughts to even notice that he had let go of your hands, both of them now hanging by your sides. It wasn’t until you felt him place one of his hands on your face you realized that he had let go of them, his touch almost making you flinch.

A series of curses ran through your mind as you felt him place his thumb under your chin, tilting your face up; your eyes still wide from the shock. Maybe you were happy that he never turned on the light, you knew he’d endlessly tease you if he could see the look on your face. Although he didn’t even need to see your face, the faint sound of your pounding heart told him enough.

You felt his head dip in between your neck and shoulder, the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin causing you to let out a gasp. ‘’Should’ve told me sooner and you wouldn’t have to lie about sleeping with me.’’ He mumbled, his lips finally meeting your skin.

Upon his rough lips meeting the skin of your neck, you grabbed onto the surface right beside you, your hand coming into contact with a sink; making you realize you were in a bathroom. 

You had no idea how you ended up in this situation. You had no idea how the fuck you ended up in a bathroom with Lee Heeseung, the person you swore you hated more than anyone else on this entire planet, with his lips leaving wet kisses down your neck. What you did know, however, was the fact that you desperately needed to get out of there.

Heeseung wasn’t going to let you get away that easily though. Almost like he read your mind, he grabbed onto your waist; pushing you up against the counter beside you. A small yelp left your lips as your lower back hit the counter, Heeseungs lips still attached to your neck.

‘’Maybe you’ll let me prove you wrong, Y/N?’’

His lips left your neck, now slightly hovering above your own lips instead. You felt your breath quickening as you felt his top lip slightly brush against your own; one of his hands was still placed on the side of your face, his thumb tilting your head upwards. 

‘’Prove me wrong?’’ You managed to stutter out, not even sure if he could hear you due to how quietly the words left your mouth. He hummed in response and if the room hadn’t been completely dark, you’d be able to see the grin that had formed on his lips.

‘’You’d let me prove to you that I can make any girl cum, wouldn’t you?’’

As soon as the words left his lips, you could’ve sworn you stopped breathing for a second. Normally you probably would’ve cringed at his words, but the shock that had washed over you was making it almost impossible for you to even utter a single word.

Or maybe it was the way his lips brushed against yours that had made you question your entire existence, making it hard for you to breathe properly; how were you supposed to know when all you could possibly focus on was the way he was now pressing his body up against your own?

You knew this was just his way of messing with you. He probably found it amusing, seeing how you became a stuttering mess with him this close to you. You knew he was only doing it for his own amusement, your mind flashing to the future for a split second - a future where Heeseung would tell everyone how he had you quivering in his arms by doing nothing but press soft kisses against your skin.

There was no way you’d ever let that happen.

‘’Yes.’’

Or maybe you would. The word trailed off your lips so softly, so softly that Heeseung almost missed the way they fell off your lips so perfectly. But he didn’t, he didn’t miss the way you whimpered a ‘yes’, which was his cue to press his hovering lips against your own. 

It all happened too fast, too fast for you to even realize the fact that your hands had wrapped themselves around his neck; pulling him deeper into the kiss. Your mind was too foggy to even try to comprehend what was happening, simply accepting the fact that you found yourself pressed up against someone when you should be downstairs celebrating your friend's birthday.

Your brain just choose to ignore the most important part, that the person you had just pulled into a kiss was in fact no one other than Lee Heeseung.

His lips felt almost too soft against your own. His touch, however, was not nearly as soft. You could now feel his fingernails digging into your skin as his hand slipped under your shirt, the grip he had on your jaw only hardening the deeper the kiss got. A small whimper left your lips as you felt him run his tongue over your bottom lip, asking you for permission to enter your mouth. 

The darkness definitely contributed to the whole situation. If you had actually been able to see him, there was no way you’d let him even come remotely to close to you. But you couldn’t, and the darkness made it almost too easy for you to fall into some sort of fantasy where the boy who was now slightly tugging on your bottom lip was someone completely different.

Someone who wasn’t Heeseung.

So that’s what you imagined as his tongue come into contact with yours, causing the kiss to become much messier. You almost whined as his lips left yours, only to travel back down your neck; this time leaving much wetter and harsh kisses. A small whimper left your lips as you felt the dangly, silver earring he was wearing brush against your skin; the cold sensation only heightened the feelings you were already experiencing. 

The feelings you refused to accept were indeed rushing through your body, you refused to accept that you were indeed starting to rub your thigh together in order to relieve the throbbing now coming from your core. Heeseung seemed to catch onto you trying to discreetly but desperately relieve the aching feeling, a chuckle trailing off his lips as he felt you uncomfortably shift underneath him.

His fingertips suddenly started tracing up and down your bare thigh, causing a small gasp to leave your lips; his sudden action taking you by surprise. You weren’t complaining though, feeling his fingertips lightly drag across your skin, moving closer and closer to the spot where you needed him the most. 

It wasn’t until he pulled the skirt you were wearing up, rolling it up by your waist and his fingertips traced over your clothed core that he let out a groan. His fingertips immediately came into contact with the growing wet patch that had formed in your underwear, causing him to slightly bite into your skin. ‘’You’re incredibly wet for someone who claims to hate my guts,’’ He grunted against your skin, causing your eyes to flutter close as he lightly tapped your clothed clit.

‘’Shut up,’’ You hissed through your teeth, the last thing you wanted right now was for him to tease you. The only thing you needed was for him to touch you, and you needed it badly. Too badly. A dry chuckle trailed off his lips, pressing his lips onto the skin right below your ear as he slipped his hand into your underwear.

You let out a sigh of relief as his fingers came into contact with your clit, running two of his fingers up and down your slit. A hiss left his lips as your arousal covered his fingers, feeling his cock twitch in his jeans; something he chose to ignore as his fingertips reached your entrance.

The first finger slipped into you with ease, your slick walls welcoming him with a moan trailing off your lips. He had to hold back a moan himself as his knuckles came into contact with your sticky entrance, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you before eventually slipping in yet another finger.

Your hands grabbed onto his hair, slightly tugging on it as the new sensation took over your body. Never had someone ever fingered you before, and you surely never expected Heeseung to be the first one to do so. But with the way his index and pointer fingers were now pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace, you simply couldn’t help but fall into the pleasure of it all. 

Even though it was the fingers of the person you hated more than anyone else making you feel good, you simply just couldn’t deny the fact that he was indeed making you feel a little too good.

‘’You gonna take back what you said?’’ He mumbled against your skin, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. You had to bite back a moan, shaking your head. ‘’Never.’’

Your words only riled Heeseung up even more, a grin forming on his lips as he pulled his fingers out of you completely. You were about to whine in protest, an empty feeling washing over you as his fingers slipped out of you. But before you could utter a single word, he slammed his fingers into you once again; a loud gasp leaving your lips, slapping one of your hands over your mouth to stop the whimpers about to leave your lips. 

‘’We’ll see about that.’’ 

The previous speed he had set changed into something almost sinister, the sound of his knuckles hitting the wet skin surrounding your entrance filled the room as you spread your legs further apart, making it easier for him to slam his fingers into you.

At this point you couldn’t even control the moans spilling past your lips, nor did you try to. You were too lost in the bliss of his fingers pumping in and out of you at just the right speed to even notice the way you were moaning into his ear. It wasn’t until he curled his fingers, his fingers now hitting just the right spot you realized how loud you were being as a loud yelp left your lips.

Heeseung quickly realized that he had found the spot that made you weak at your knees as he felt you grab onto his bicep in order to stabilize yourself, your legs becoming slightly shaky as he continued to pound his fingers into you. ‘’Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already?’’ He whispered into your ear, your moans almost deafening his whisper. 

You, however, were too lost in the pleasure to even realize he had said something. The only thing you could focus on was the way a familiar feeling filled your stomach, your legs starting to fail you as you felt your orgasm slowly approach you. You were too lost in the pleasure to even notice the way he had leaned over you, his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

Almost like you had forgotten who the person in front of you was, you were painfully reminded as he suddenly flipped the light switch; the bright light causing you to squint your eyes. With a grin on his face and your lips slightly parted, you only stared at him in utter shock as the realization hit you.

You had just let Lee Heeseung finger you in his very own bathroom. 

A whimper left your lips as his movements stopped, his fingers slipping out of you. The knot in your stomach came undone, but not in the way you had hoped for; no, he simply just didn’t let you cum. You just stared at him, your eyes wide from the realization. Not only had you actually let him finger you, but he also left you hanging by not letting you cum.

The two of you just stared at each other, a taunting grin still plastered on his face as your heavy pants filled the room, your eyes still wide. You could tell he was holding back a laugh as he scanned your fucked out expression, a proud smirk replacing the grin on his lips as he leaned closer to you once again. 

Brushing your hair behind your ear, he placed his hand on the side of your neck; breathing down your neck. ‘’What a shame,’’ He whispered into your ear. ‘’I guess I don’t know how to make girls cum after all.’’ 

If you weren’t speechless before, you most definitely were now. You were too deep into your own thoughts, your shaky hands trailing up your face; covering your mouth as the fact that you had just let Lee Heeseung finger you settled in to even notice the boy washing his hands beside you.

It wasn’t until he cleared his throat you looked over at him. He just smiled at you, scanning your body; slightly shaking his head while clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘’I’m gonna go back downstairs now,’’ He let out, placing his hand on the door handle. ‘’You should probably make yourself look at least presentable before going back down there.’’

You stared at him as his eyes darted down to your skirt, your eyes following his. Your lips parted as you realized your skirt was still pulled up by your waist, revealing your now drenched and side-looped underwear. You quickly pulled your skirt down as Heeseung opened the door, a laugh leaving his lips as he watched you straighten your skirt back down using your hands.

You were still fixing your skirt as he stepped out of the door, his head suddenly peeking back from behind the door. ‘’And Y/N?’’ His words caused you to snap your head towards him, not daring to say a single word; feeling both embarrassment and resentment towards the boy standing in front of you.

And with the very same shit-eating grin he always wore on his lips, he took one last look at you. 

‘’That was just for spying on me earlier this week.’’

You were done for, something telling you this was only the beginning of Heeseungs revenge. Not only were you done for, you were fucked.

[corneliaavenue-ao3]

End Game: I wanna be your first string

A continuation of end game. This is stan tumblr's pov of Ginny's World Cup Semifinal match.

if you somehow got tagged in this, i am so sorry it was an accident

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

The first semi-final match will start in just under an hour with England taking on Bulgaria!

@ginwiz posted

i'm nervous, anyone else nervous?

@ginginweas replied: nervous? why would we be nervous? (i've vomited three times today)

@queezy-4-weasley replied: bulgaria's chasers still suck, so i have some hope

@bitch-witchh posted

fuck bulgaria and fuck viktor krum!

@quid-bitch reblogged @bitch-witchh

I'm trying!

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

don't make me bring out the spray bottle cat meme

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Krum will likely get the snitch over Shah, but Bulgaria's chasers still suck

@ginwiz reblogged @queezy-4-weasly

Shah could catch the snitch!

@ginginweas reblogged @ginwiz

yeah and I could win an order of merlin

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

Harry just finished the Frey Family case yesterday, so he should be able to make it to the game!

@harpies-hore reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

how do you know that?

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @harpies-hore

I listen to the auror scanner

@im-a-keeper posted

I am very excited to see England's chasers: Weasley, Alton, and Killick play against Bulgaria's beaters: Higgs and Ross. A fast, electric offense vs a brutal, widespread defense.

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

The England World team has entered the arena. They play Bulgaria in Round 2 of the World Cup.

@queezy-4-weasley posted

AND THERE SHE IS!

@ginginweas posted

GINNY WEASLEY!! THE WOMAN THAT YOU ARE!!!!

@ginwiz posted

THERE IS MY MVP!!!

@quid-bitch posted

do you think Ginny Weasley, Richard Alton, and Ophelia Killick need a fourth?

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

there aren't 4 chasers

@quid-bitch reblogged @bitch-witchh

I wasn't talking about quidditch

@harpies-hore reblogged @quid-bitch

@queezy-4-weasley posted

i've been watching Higgs and Ross, and unfortunately they are on their A game today. I hope Gin, Oph, and Rick can handle them

@puddlemore-111 reblogged @queezy-4-weasley

weirdo, calling them Gin, Oph, and Rick like you actually know them

@queezy-4-weasley reblogged @puddlemore-111

how have i not blocked you yet?

@ginwiz answered

probably not yet since we haven't seen him, but he is going to be there

@ginwiz answered

95% of my blog is Ginny, and the moment i talk about her boyfriend (someone who has been heavily involved in Ginny's life since she was 11), I get this stupid ask. Go take your hate somewhere else.

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

Bulgaria World Cup team, lead by team captain, Viktor Krum, has entered the arena.

@ginginweas posted

NOT THE CAMERA PANNING FROM KRUM FLYING IN TO RON BOOING HIM!! THE LORE!!

@queezy-4-weasley reblogged @ginginweas

wait, whats the lore

@ginginweas reblogged @queezy-4-weasley

krum took hermione to the yule ball back during the triwizard tournament was happening. obviously there is no bad blood, but it's just funny to see him boo his fiance's ex

@quid-bitch posted

poor ron, only member of the golden trio to not have been with an international quidditch star

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

that's what he gets for being a Chudley Cannons fan

@drarry-is-real posted

lol so ron is there but harry isn't, even tho @hinny-luv-4-eva knows that he is free. wonder where he is then

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @drarry-is-real

well we know he is not hanging out with a death eater rn

@gin-will-win posted

GUESS WHERE I AM!

@ginginweas replied: NO WAY

@ginwiz replied: OH SHIT HAVE SO MUCH FUN!

@queezy-4-weasley replied: STOP I AM SO JEALOUS

@im-a-keeper posted

looks like the ref team will be the same team from the france game

#hahaha oh fuck

@harpieshore reblogged @im-a-keeper

@gin-will-win posted

HARRY IS HERE!! THEY JUST SHOWED HIM TAKING HIS SEAT NEXT TO RON

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

HARRY IS THERE!!!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

get fucked @drarry-is-real

@bitch-witchh posted

okay but why was he late?

@harpies-hore reblogged @bitch-witchh

what if i told you he was in England's locker room

@bitch-witchh reblogged @harpies-hore

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

The semi-final match between England and Bulgaria has officially started with the release of the quaffle!

@gin-will-win posted

they are so fast in person wtf

@queezy-4-weasley posted

that bludger that nearly hit killick came out of NO WHERE

@bitch-witchh posted

merlins beard. why did no one tell me bulgaria was actually good now?

@ginginweas posted

did... the bulgaria chasers actually just score?

@ginginweas reblogged @ginginweas

did... the bulgaria chasers actually just score again?

@harpies-hore posted

@ginginweas posted

ENGLAND!!!! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!!

@ginwiz posted

you all need to have more faith in ginny lol

@gin-will-win posted

SHE SCORED!

@ginginweas reblogged @gin-will-win

i don't like that you know what is going to happen 5 seconds before i do

@ginginweas reblogged @ginginweas

but omg yay!! she scored!!

@im-a-keeper posted

England only down 10-20 right now is somehow a miracle

@bitch-witchh posted

THANK FUCK!! POINTS!

@gin-will-win posted

I have such a good view of Harry and he is such a nervous fan, omg. he is basically clinging onto the railing

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @gin-will-win

stop, he is so sweet

@drarry-is-real reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

do you even like quidditch?

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @drarry-is-real

do you even have morals?

@queezy-4-weasley posted

FUCK DID KRUM ALREADY SPOT THE SNITCH

@ginwiz reblogged @queezy-4-weasley

i think he is feinting

@im-a-keeper posted

Shah should start looking for the snitch himself instead of trailing Krum

@ginginweas posted

killick scored!! assist by ginny!

@harpies-hore posted

@quid-bitch posted

omg they got their shit together

@queezy-4-weasley posted

STEAL FROM GINNY!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

POINTS FOR GINNY!

@ginginweas posted

THEY SHOWED RON AND HARRY CHUGGING THEIR BUTTERBEERS IN CELEBRATION!!

@ginwiz reblogged @ginginweas

Hermione looked so disappointed in them, im crying

@quid-bitch posted

what if i said ron is the hottest weasley

@harpies-hore reblogged @quid-bitch

shut up

@quid-bitch reblogged @harpies-hore

they crucified jesus for being right

@harpies-hore reblogged @quid-bitch

who the fuck is jesus?

@bitch-witchh posted

LOL the bulgaria chaser dropped the quaffle again

@queezy-4-weasley reblogged @bitch-witchh

that's the bulgaria team i remember

@im-a-keeper posted

Alton just scored with an assist from Weasley! All England chasers have now scored! 50-20 in favor for England!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Bulgaria's beaters are fucking aggressive

@bitch-witchh posted

OH FUCK

@ginginweas posted

GINNY

@ginwiz posted

FUCK FUCK FUCK! GINNY!!!

@Im-a-keeper posted

that was a NASTY hit by Ross. It looks like Ginny was hit in the face and knocked from her broom.

@ginginweas posted

that hit was terrifying

@harpies-hore posted

Oh shit! is she okay?

@gin-will-win posted

guys, there is so much blood

@ginwiz reblogged @gin-will-win

fuck, i hope she is okay

@gin-will-win reblogged @ginwiz

Richard caught her, and she is moving fine. I think it looks worse than it was.

@ginginweas posted

They showed Harry, and he looks so upset.

@bitch-witchh reblogged @ginginweas

Ross better hire some bodyguards because Auror Potter looks like he is planning his murder right now.

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Harry's heart dropped out of his ass watching that. (my heart did too)

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

Harry looks like he wants to jump down to Ginny to comfort her right now :(

@puddlemore-111 reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

if a player getting hit by a bludger makes her whiny boyfriend act like this, she should just quit and stay in the kitchen

@drarry-is-real reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

harry is faking sadness right now, he would much rather be with his boyfriend than be at this stupid quidditch game

@ginginweas posted

@hinny-luv-4-eva reblogged @ginginweas

you already know who I voted for

@ginwiz posted

SHE IS OKAY!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

They fixed her nose and she is okay!!

@harpies-hore posted

STOP!! she just looked up at the stands and gave the "I'm okay" sign

@gin-will-win posted

Harry visibly sighed when Ginny waved to him. Hermione was rubbing his back and Ron gave him a reassuring shake

@ginginweas reblogged @gin-will-win

Every day, I become more and more thankful for the golden trio

@quidditch-world-cup-updates posted

After a nasty hit, and a presumed broken nose, chaser, Ginny Weasley, makes her penalty shot increasing England's lead to 70-20.

@harpies-hore posted

like we always say. ginny shooting a penalty shot = free points

@bitch-witchh posted

Bulgaria's chasers have now gotten so desperate that they are stooging

@ginwiz reblogged @bitch-witchh

and the refs have done nothing to stop them

@ginginweas reblogged @ginwiz

I feel like I need to bring back the refs vs voldemort poll

@gin-will-win posted

Ross is out of control today. He just elbowed Shah

@harpies-hore posted

Shah gets hit in the face when he is the one player who a beater cannot touch with their body and yet the refs call nothing

@ginwiz reblogged @harpies-hore

hey @ginginweas, we need the poll now

@ginginweas reblogged @harpies-hore

@im-a-keeper posted

I was really hoping that the ref team would have gotten better since the last match, but unfortunately they have not...

@bitch-witchh posted

lol while everyone was focused on Shah and Ross, Ginny scored again

@ginwiz posted

I fucking love Ginny Weasley

@qin-will-win posted

THE ENTIRE STADIUM IS CHANTING GINNY'S NAME RN (I think harry started IT!!!)

@harpies-hore posted

GINNY! GINNY! GINNY!

@ginginweas posted

okay, someone needs to take Ross's bat

@im-a-keeper posted

Ross hits a quaffle out of the hands of Alton. And of course the refs say play on.

@ginwiz posted

FUCK ROSS

@quid-bitch reblogged @ginwiz

I am not going to do that

@gin-will-win posted

KRUM IS FLYING OVER TO ROSS TO YELL AT HIM!

@harpies-hore posted

krum on his way to go yell at his beater

@quid-bitch posted

Krum can come yell at me next

@bitch-witchh reblogged @quid-bitch

JAIL

@ginginweas posted

WAIT

@gin-will-win posted

NO WAY

@im-a-keeper posted

Is Shah about to????

@queezy-4-weasley posted

DID SHAH JUST????

@quidditch-world-cup-updates

England's Shah catches the snitch while Krum is distracted. England wins 240-20!

@ginginweas posted

WE WIN WE WIN!!!!!!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

@bitch-witchh posted

WE ARE GOING TO THE FUCKING FINALLSSSSS!!!!!!!!

@puddlemore-111 posted

A pathetic win for England. How the hell did they make it all the way to the Quidditch World Cup?

@harpies-hore posted

@im-a-keeper posted

I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME!!! LET'S GO ENGLAND!!!!!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

IM SCREAMING!!!

@ginwiz posted

The entire team jumping on top of Shah, celebrating. What if I cry?

@gin-will-win posted

THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!

@bitch-witchh posted

Shah it seems I’ve grown quite fond of you tho there are no sexual urges or desires you come to me as a long lost friend whom I once picked apples with in papa’s orchard

@queezy-4-weasley posted

Ginny, Ophelia, and Richard are dancing around Shah, this is adorable

@gin-will-win posted

GUYS! HARRY IS NOT IN HIS SEAT ANYMORE

@harpies-hore reblogged @gin-will-win

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

HARRY IS ON THE FIELD!!!

@gin-wiz posted

HARRY????

@gin-will-win posted

GINNY RAN UP TO HIM AND JUST KISSED HIM!!!

@queezy-4-weasley posted

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

@harpie-hore posted

HE IS HER BIGGEST SUPPORTER WHICH SUCKS BECAUSE I WANT TO BE HER BIGGEST SUPPORTER!!!!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

BAD DAY TO BE A DRARRY STAN!!!!!

@drarry-is-real reblogged @hinny-luv-4-eva

fuck you

@ginwiz posted

I THOUGHT THE GAME AGAINST FRANCE WAS THE BEST WHEN SHE FLEW OVER TO HIM, BUT HIM COMING TO HER?? MEETING HER ON THE FIELD?? GINNY SEEING HIM AND DROPPING HER BROOM AND RUNNING OVER TO HARRY?? HARRY LIFTING HER UP OFF OF HER FEET TO KISS HER????

@harpies-hore posted

i am so single

@ginginweas posted

THEY ARE SO CUTE!

@hinny-luv-4-eva posted

THEY ARE SO IN LOVE!

@quid-bitch posted

THEY ARE SO HOT!

@im-a-keeper posted

What a thrilling game. I will never forget this. (also hinny are so cute)

@ginnyweasley posted

ONE MORE MATCH! ON TO THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!!!

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Getou Suguru x Reader

Suguru Getou:

You have a superiority complex, you're a massive germaphobe and have a soft spot for poor, abused children.

First Date:

You couldn't believe it. You had a date. Not just any date though. One with the hot guy that was a shaman. He was also a cult leader but you were willing to let that slide due to how attractive you found him. The two of you met on PlentyOfSorcerers.com and you hoped that you weren't getting cat fished again. "If he's as good as he looks than I'll let him expand my domain!" You waited for your date just outside your restaurant of choice. "He should be here any minute."

You were wearing casual clothing. The two of you had agreed that it would be better to dress like average people. You didn't want your dates monk attire to attract any unnecessary attention after all. You were looking through the crowd when you felt someone pat you on the back. "Yo ####. You look wonderful." It was Getou. His long hair was memorizing but you gazed down and couldn't help but notice the shirt that he wore.

It was a plain black t-shirt except for the fact that there was a large image of a dragon ball character. Freezer you think? Anyway it was something about an alien committing genocide against monkeys. You were dumbfounded. "... I thought we agreed to dress casual..." He rolled his eyes. "Hey, he's my idol." Geto than questioned where he was taking you. "Why KFC of course."

You noticed his face starting to go pale. "Is something wrong?" He quickly shook his head. "It used to bring me painful memories. But that's all right because now I have you." You couldn't help but smile. You took his hand and walked towards your destination.

The place was packed. Getou groaned. "Why must there be so many monkeys!" He then glanced in your direction. "####, why don't you find us somewhere to sit while I go and order..." He looked tense. He must not enjoy crowds you thought. You kissed him on the cheek and then went to find a place to sit.

Getou then took out his disinfectant and began to spray everyone in line while he made his way to the front. The patrons were choking and gasping for air but who cares about monkeys right? He went to order when he nearly had a heart attack. He recognized the man behind the register. It was none other than Toji Fushiguro. "WHY ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!?"

The man was used to angry customers so this wasn't anything special but then he looked up at the the patron in front of him. "Oh? I didn't expect to see you here. Anyway, I owe some gambling debt to Gege so he was kind enough to let me work here and pay it off. I have to support my son after all!" Getou spat at him. "You're a terrible father and you know it!"

"Hmpf. Maybe. But at least I actually fathered my children. Now, what will you be ordering today?"

-------------------------

Getou returned and dropped the tray on the table. "Is everything okay...?" He couldn't wait to leave this place. "It's nothing. Go on, eat!" The two of you ate your food and you noticed that Getou looked somewhat sick. His face was now a shade of green. He decided to answer before you questioned him. "This food tastes worse than curses do!""... And what do curses taste like?"

He then responded "It’s like swallowing a dirty rag that’s been used to clean up shit and vomit." Oh. Well you were definitely letting him pick the place next time. If there would be a next time... It was then that you noticed two small children. "Daddy, daddy! We want crepes!" Getou sighed. "Girls, I thought I told you to wait until I came back home..." Your eye twitched."

Your dating profile didn't say anything about having kids..." He knew he had forgotten something. "Surprise...?" You stood up to leave. "I think we should see other people." He then began to sob into the table. The two girls then hugged their father and asked what was wrong. "I miss my wife (Gojo) girls. I miss her a lot."

[morbidology]

On the 22nd of May, 2013, Los Angeles paramedics were responding to a report of a child not breathing. When paramedics arrived at the scene, they found 8-year-old Gabriel Fernandez. They knew immediately that something much more sinister had taken place. “It was just an unbelievable amount of trauma on his body,” said Los Angeles County Fire Department paramedic, James Cermak.

An investigation uncovered a prolonged catalog of abuse at the hands of Gabriel’s mother, Pearl Fernandez, and her boyfriend, Isauro Aguirre

In the months leading up to Gabriel’s death, he was sprayed with pepper spray, forced to eat his own vomit and was regularly gagged to keep him quiet and locked in a cabinet. In addition, Aguirre and Fernandez burned Gabriel with cigarettes, whipped him, shot him with a BB gun, starved him and forced him to eat cat litter and cat faeces.

Gabriel would often be bound, rendering him unable to move, while Aguirre would bite him. In a bid to conceal the abuse, Fernandez and Aguirre put makeup on Gabriel to hide his bruising.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞:

[arthropodboy]

Help save the adorable Miss Margles

A friend of mine from High School is trying to save his new senior kitties life, but he doesn't have the funds. I thought I'd try sharing this here because Tumblr is the only place I have even a little bit of reach.

Donations and/or reblogs would be greatly appreciated

"Hello! My name is Jay and I recently adopted Margles back in the beginning of July. This senior girlie was found wandering around downtown Tacoma in really horrible condition. When she was found, she was severely underweight, dehydrated, and seemed to be ill - it was very clear that someone had dumped her, or maybe everything went wrong and she ended up alone long enough to deteriorate on the street. My homie MJ fostered her for a while until I was able to adopt her!

Despite her condition, she is one of the most affectionate and trusting cats I've met in a long time, and after bringing her home she loved hopping into bed with me in the morning and licking my face to wake me up to feed her. She also absolutely loves getting brushed/groomed. She has quickly become good buddies with Tommy as well (our other senior kitty) who had been showing signs of wanting a companion before we got her.

This past month has been a lot of back and forth to the emergency vet clinic and our primary vet clinic as we've tried to figure out what's going on with her. She has been having bloody vaginal discharge, been unable to get comfortable, urinating inappropriately, vomiting daily, has had a steadily declining appetite, and could never seem to get enough water. We treated her for a UTI, however her symptoms returned as soon as her course of antibiotics finished.

However, we finally were able to figure out what's going on with her!! She has a severe urinary tract infection with two different types of bacteria that require a longer course of special antibiotics. Miss Margles was also diagnosed with kidney disease, pancreatitis, low potassium, and low phosphate. She is also severely underweight at 4.5lbs (but has been steadily gaining weight since coming to us). Thankfully, all of these conditions are easily manageable through treatment, medication, and supplements, and Meegles should be able to recover and live out her golden years in comfort with Tommy after we get her balanced out.

Although, as someone who is currently working paycheck to paycheck at minimum wage, the bills are quickly becoming more than I can handle.

With appointments averaging around $650, recurring medications about half of that, starting a specialized kidney diet, and the costs of supplements + daily fluid therapy (and of course urine + vomit cleaning spray...) I've reached a point where I've decided to seek out financial support in mutual aid. I am very hopeful that she will make a recovery from her current condition, but I fear that if these bills become too much I will have to try to find her a new home, which is already hard enough for senior kitties, let alone a high medical needs senior cat. I don't want to have to put her through a whole life transition again; especially since I have veterinary assistant experience and work in the animal care field, and am confident with giving her specialized care in my daily routine.

I am currently giving her 4 medications a day + 2 supplements, and subcutaneous fluid therapy once or twice daily. She is also getting monthly Solensia injections for her severe arthritis due to having very low muscle/fat content. Due to the sedative effects of some of these medications, Margles is experiencing extreme muscle weakness and needs assistance getting to the litterbox in time, grooming herself after eating or peeing/pooping, and will only eat via spoon feeding for now. Its quickly become a labor of love, and I know that Margles would be better off remaining in my care as she rides out her golden years.

Any financial support for her medical needs to ensure that she gets to remain in my care would be greatly appreciated! Even like $5 goes a long way. The goal amount is based on what I've spent so far and am estimated to be spending on the next follow up appointment. I will return to working at a vet clinic soon (I am currently working with zoo animals) and should hopefully get some discounts for her lifelong fluid therapy, arthritis injections, kidney disease management, and senior wellness exams in the future, so this is just to help us through the next few visits. Times are rough for us all right now, if you aren't able to donate please boost if you can!

Thanks for taking the time to read ‍⬛ I will post updates as they come

- Jay"

[pinkiepiebones]

dinner.

a short gross one inspired by scrolling through the chat. :) 

Renfield felt his Master call out. Then, nothing. 

He ran, shovel in hands. He skittered into the hall, fumbling to retrieve his snuff box and swallow a handful of crickets while still clenching the shovel and distantly noting to mop later, he was tracking mud in.

The crickets wriggled in his throat and his human instinct was to immediately stop his frantic running and try to evict them, but his familiar side screamed like burning needles behind his eyes MASTER NEEDS ME

Renfeild felt his eyes blaze with inhuman power. He vaulted up the stares like a cat and threw the shovel with deadly accuracy, the blade severing on hunter's head from his neck. Blood sprayed as Renfield leapt and spun, his muddy loafer connecting with another hunter's face and there was an immensely satisfying CRUNCH as said face went concave. Eyes and body still ablaze, Renfield retrieved his shovel and swung at the hunter with a hammer in his hands. The two weapons clashed and Renfield snarled. The hammer glinted with silver and blackish red. Renfield charged and pinned the hunter to the wall with his shovel. He used the splintering handle to crush the hunter's windpipe and neck.

Before the final body hit the floor the familiar was at his Master's side. 

Robert Montague Renfield was distraught. He had arrived too late. In his defense, one cannot exactly sprint from the extensive gardens where he was burying dried corpses to the palatial fourth story of the sprawling mansion in which he and his Master currently resided. 

Still.

Renfield's fell to his knees. Blood framed Master like a ruby coloured, thorned mass of halos. Renfield's hands trembled as he tried to reassemble Master's broken head. The silver hammer, no doubt also blessed or carved with Christian bullshit, had all but destroyed Master's skull. An eye remained intact, milky and unfocused. Fangs and bits of skull were mingled with oozing brain matter and blackish blood and hair. Most of Master's lower jaw was intact, as was his tongue. 

Renfield could still feel Master's power thrumming through him, fiery vibrations along the strings of his muscles. He had an idea. He stood on shaky legs and dragged over the body of the hunter with the hammer. He set it close to his Master and knelt between them. Blood soaked into the worn knees of his slacks.

Renfield took a deep breath, in, and out. Then, he leaned over the body, used his long fingers to rip a hole in the broken neck, and then.

Renfield screwed his eyes shut, pressed his mouth to the wound and sucked. 

He immediately regretted it.

Renfield's human side wanted to vomit. The blood was still warm, so strangely metallic! He held it in his mouth and moved to hold Master and, gracefully as he could, drooled it into the gap where Master's mouth should have been.

Renfield's stomach lurched and he shuddered. He pressed his stickey fingers to Master's throat, gently, urging the muscles to carry the nourishment. Relief washed over him when he felt them comply. Invigorated by the knowledge that Master was still alive, Renfield again leaned over, sucked up a mouthful of blood, fought the urge to vomit, and spat it down his Master's throat. 

After several of these odd feedings Renfield no longer needed to urge Master's throat to work. Renfield could feel the little embers at the back of his skull, the mind link reforming as Master's brain matter began to reshape.

"Master," Renfield whimpered. The one intact eye was glossy once again, and blinked.

Renfield fed Master another mouthful of blood and Master's claws dug into the lapels of Renfield's jacket. Master held his rejuvenating body like this, and Renfield held him, and fed him, until Master's brain and the top half of his mouth fully reformed.

Then Master threw Renfield across the room. The sound he made when he collided with the wall was music to Master's ears. Or, ear. One was still missing.

Master grabbed the corpse that Renfield had been feeding him and stood. He could feed himself properly now, and did so while Renfield threw up and scrubbed at his face with his bloodied sleeves. Tears and sick and blood clung to his face. 

Master tossed the now empty corpse aside and floated towards the headless one. He picked it up and slurped loudly and Renfield allowed himself a small smile. It was good to see Master bounce back so quickly.

"Renfield."

Renfield struggled to stand and opted to crawl to his Master. He looked up at the hovering vampire with wide blue eyes.

Master smiled down at him. He gestured and Renfield stood. Master stroked his sweaty hair.

"Good boy." 

[ruthlesslistener]

Ello! Cat advice anon here, just checking in and hoping that i can help a bit more! Holy Moly, from 0 to 4 kit-kats is a LOT. I commend you for taking in so many, personally I've never had more than 2 at a time sharing the same house, so i can only imagine the chaos! An Experience indeed!

For the overly-cuddly Hwanggeum, I'd say it's either bc you're the "head of the house", so to say, or bc you're her favourite and have been till now showering her with most of the attention she's been wanting. Or it could be both. Blue, my oldest, has always presented to my father, but otherwise she always comes to me bc I'm her main source of affection.

I dunno what might stop Hwanggeum from rubbing on everything, since I haven't had this problem with mine (they're actually not very territorial with space as much as with us humans haha!), but maybe having a smell she doesn't like near the places you want to keep her from might help? Smt like sanitary alcohol or another pungent smell, maybe, which might also help with keeping the others from spraying everywhere.

The smell might fade with time, but the stains sure don't as easily 😣 Found that out the hard way when we discovered a hidden spot in the closet where one of them had peed in a while back, but the smell had faded after some time without us managing to find the source of the smell. Then we found some clothes stained and still emitting a slight odor and knew immediately there'd be no saving them 😓

Hopefully the cat you've managed to find a free spot for doesn't go in heat right before it bc otherwise you (or the shelter) might have to wait till after it ends. You might have gotten used to recognising signs of an incoming heat by now, but just in case, watch out for a sudden increase in demands for affection and loud vocalisations. Mine get real cuddly and all meowy about a week before the real thing hits, but it's obvious bc they're usually not super affectionate with us unless it's our nightly or morning cuddle session 😊 Then again, no two cats are the same, one of them is super clingy and the other super bitey 😂

We plan on spaying them soon, but haven't since my mom is (understandably but also frustratingly) overly cautious about the surgery and the aftermath and keeps thinking of worst case scenarios, but my sibling and I finally convinced her.

Anyway, one last piece of advice i have is playing. There's nothing like that hunting instinct activating and putting the hindbrain on the back burner, which is exactly what happens when you play with them with a string or a powered mouse or mini car (the younger one, Odette, loves a tiny truck i got from a kinder egg or something. its back wheels can be dragged back and released and it spins and twists as it goes) for them to chase.

I think that's all I have to offer, sadly, but, once again, hopefully smt does help outta all that rambling of mine. Wishing lots of love to all 4 of the babies and lots of patience to you and your qpp, you guys are doing your best ❤️❤️❤️❤️

From two snakes zero cats to four cats two snakes AND one umbrella cockatoo!! Would it surprise you if I told you that the cockatoo is the easiest of the new animals to deal with?? It's been a learning curve for sure-apart from the heat cycles, the two cats we're keeping both have vomiting issues (one from eating too much too fast, one from being unable to digest the dry food), so it's been a learning curve for sure. And ofc now that Hwanggeum is out of heat, Mochi is going into it, so it's been a domino effect of horny single ladies near me. Someone pissed on my bed just today, which means that I'm gonna have to go back to keeping my room closed off to the cats until it passes, and I feel bad about that bc miss old lady Fiona has taken a soft spot to sleeping on Toast's enclosure + my bed

Hwanggeum- who I've taken to calling Revelry bc she reminds me so much of my friend's DND character + she's silvered out of her golden kitten phase- def. has imprinted onto me, I think. She follows me around everywhere, wails when she can't see me, and tries to make my life as difficult as possible when I need to leave for work via climbing up my leg when she sees me getting ready. So I'm pretty sure that's why she was so clingy when in heat. Thankfully that's ended for now but *man* did it make working on anything difficult bc she turned into a velcro kitty for about a week- I've got minor scratches all up my legs and shoulders from her jumping on my back or climbing me

The problem I've personally found with her rubbing, though, is that these cats rub really aggressively on *everything*, to the point where I'm not sure how get the scent trick working. It's like, they'll rub on any surface they see, but then you make eye contact with them and they start to rub even more aggressively, knocking everything and themselves over in the process. It's fine with minor unbreakeable shit but very difficult when you're in the middle of painting something and they jump up onto your desk and start rubbing their cheeks against your lamp, paint jar, etc. I'm still trying to figure out how to handle that, since Mochi is twice the size of the others and has some real bulldozing power to her. I think we're fine with not missing the shelter spots bc we likely can't get a spot for the spays until mid August anyways, but yeah...I'm eager to get them spayed lol. If cost wasn't so prohibitive then it would have been done right away, but, well...the cheapest we found is 50 per spay, and that's via a mobile vet mobile that is currently unavailiable. And none of us have 150 dollars to get all 3 cats done, so waiting for the two getting adopted out to get their freebies + the clinic to come back for Rev is our only option. Toys ARE a great suggestion, though- I just need to find the ones that they have. They had a whole bunch of them they used to play kitty soccer with that seem to have mysteriously dissapeared, and we haven't the faintest idea where they've gone. I'm already planning on making a stick-and-mouse toy with some cleaned dropped branches and old scraps I've got lying around for sewing practice

Appreciate all your help and well wishes! Both of us are a little overwhelmed, but we're trying our best and making sure we communicate solutions to the problems. I'm going to try my best to get the piss outta my sheets but I appreciate the heads up about the staining lol

[koreanling]

Korean Onomatopoeia!

Animal Sounds In Korean

멍멍: barking (dog sound) 꿀꿀: oink (pig sound) 야옹: meow (cat sound) 음매: moo (cow sound) 매애: baa (sheep sound) 찍찍: mouse’s squeak 훨훨: flutter flutter (butterfly/bird flying sound) 윙윙: buzzing (bee/fly/flying insect sound) 짹짹: chirp/tweet (bird sound) 까악: crow’s caw 꽥꽥: quack (duck sound) 꽤액: goose’s honk 개굴: ribbit/croak (frog sound)

Water

쏴: rain pouring down쏴쏴: the sound of spraying water 주르륵: the sound of water dripping 철벅철벅: splash 주르르: trickle 부글부글: bubbling/boiling 어푸어푸: spitting water out of your mouth 풍덩: splash when jumping into water 철썩: splashing back and forth

Sound Effect Onomatopoeia

쾅: bang 쿵: heavy thud 쾅: crash 칙칙폭폭: chugga chugga choo choo (train sound) 똑똑: knock knock 반짝반짝: sparkle/twinkle 펑: poof 싱: zoom 따르릉 따르릉: ring ring 부릉부릉: car engine vroom vroom 모락모락: smoke/steam 우르릉: rumble of thunder

Action Onomatopoeia

킁킁: sniff 에취: achoo 콜록콜록: cough cough 켁켁: choking 앗: oops 음: ummm… 또릿: ahem! 깍꿍: peekaboo 흑흑 / 훌쩍훌쩍: crying 왈칵: sobbing 울망: tearing up/about to cry at any moment 메롱: sticking your tongue out 뽀뽀: kiss/smooch 얌냠: om nom nom 두근두근: heartbeat 우웩: vomiting bleeh 응애응애: baby crying 보들보들: soft/cuddly 뒤 뚱뒤뚱: waddle

[sorcerobe]

Post Mortem

I really do not like to talk about my relationship with my ex, my accuser, because I refuse to let what I went through define me, but the truth is that it was an abusive relationship and I was the victim. My ex was demanding and controlling and repeatedly berated, humiliated, and isolated me. She broke down my psyche over years until I was unable to make any decisions or take any actions without her explicit direction. I was completely reliant on her to tell me what to do and completely unable to think for myself. It got to the point that shortly before she left me, I couldn’t even select a youtube video to watch together without bursting into tears from the stress of having to make a decision and the worry that she would judge me for it. I would spend hours in the bathroom just crying and trying to put myself together to face her in a positive way. she repeatedly manipulated and controlled my behavior with threats of breaking up, self harm or even suicide if I didn’t conform to what she demanded of me. 

I moved to a country where I knew nobody and didn’t speak the language just to be with her and keep her safe. She wounded her hand and went to work without stopping the bleeding, got so drunk that she vomited and collapsed in a public bathroom and very nearly jumped in front of a train if not for my begging her to reconsider over the phone. This was when I promised to live with her. I took care of her cats for two years. I spent hours thoroughly cleaning our apartment every day at her request. I cooked meals for us almost every day. I did all of this gladly, I was genuinely glad that I was with her and could do these things for her. But my efforts were never enough and lead to constant berating by my ex. 

I have a skin condition that makes me break out in hives in response to humidity and she was convinced that I was actually covered in an invisible fungus and was spreading it over the apartment despite a total lack of evidence of this, and to combat this for months alongside cleaning she required me to take multiple daily showers and spray myself all over with hydrogen peroxide, which is a mild bleaching agent. I think the period where I was doing this has caused permanent damage to my skin, but I went along with it because I wanted her to feel safe.

She was convinced that everyone in our friend circle was one step away from “betraying” her at every turn. Even the most innocuous actions would be interpreted as proof of this and nothing I could say or show would convince her otherwise, and she did her best to preemptively destroy any friendship I had because of this. This is not even to get into the way she tried to take over my career. I could fill pages and pages with anecdotes but it’s pointless. At this point people will believe what they believe.

When her career in Japan didn’t pan out because she was too sick to work, we moved back in with my family in Toronto. My parents were growing concerned with the relationship as they could see what it was doing to me, but they made every attempt to accomodate her needs and were nothing but helpful. I loved her and tried to do everything I could to be what she wanted but I just wasn’t able to do it. I wasn’t able to quit my career as a game developer as she demanded. I wasn’t able to abandon all of my friends & family as she demanded. These were all things that she saw as a requirement for us to continue our relationship, and ultimately they were why she left me. And, as best I can discern, because I have still not abandoned these aspects of myself, they are why she continued to try to quite literally ruin my life. She wanted to ensure that fight knight never came out, she wanted all of my years of work to amount to nothing to prove to me that I was nothing without her.

It’s been over two years since we separated, and almost a year now since she made her accusations in an attempt to ruin the launch of my game. unfortunately  her actions opened a lot of old wounds that had only just begun to heal. I know her to be someone who never lets go of a grudge to anyone who she believes wronged her, and in her mind, truth doesn’t seem to matter, as long as people “get what they deserve”. And she’s surrounded herself with people who enable that behaviour and never push back on it in any way. I can identify this easily because I used to be one of the people in her circle doing just that. I don’t hate those people. I understand the situation they’re in. They want to believe that she is a good person, that she’s just had three decades of incredible bad luck and all she needs are some real friends to turn her life around. I wanted to believe that too, more than anything. I put my life on hold for almost three years and gave her everything I had to try to prove that to the world.

I genuinely don’t want anything bad to come her way. I hope she gets the help and support she truly needs to move on from this and I hope she finds happiness. But this is not that. This is pure vindictive malice. It’s completely unjust and wrong. I am a flawed human being like anyone else on the planet but I did not do the things she accused me of, and she knows this. I have proven that she’s lied repeatedly about everything she claims about me. She repeatedly opportunistically changes her story in ways that contradict herself and the evidence to try to keep up this charade, and she knows she’s lying, but she doesn’t care, she thinks I deserve this anyways. 

Well, I don’t deserve it. I refuse to bend even a single degree to the pressure of people with nothing better to do with their lives than to try to ruin mine. I am innocent.

Thank you for reading.

[obey-me-mammon-lover69]

Written on my phone so sorry for any errors

I feel rlly sick so I decided to write some sick Mc headcanons real quick bc I haven't gotten any asks yet

No coloured text for the boys bc its not working for some reason, RIP

Warnings: Vomit, illness (spoiled just in case)

GN! MC

LUCIFER:

The best person to get sick around (next to Satan)

Holds your hair back when you’re vomiting

Gets you medicine

Basically, dotes on you like a mother the entire time lol

This isn’t his first rodeo

MAMMON:

Gets sympathy sick, and now you BOTH have to be babied

Tries to hold your hair back when ur vomiting but then he starts gagging and has to use the trashcan

Tries to convince you that cuddling makes illnesses go away faster

It works

Treats you like glass the entire time

LEVIATHAN:

Immediately goes for the anime trope of a thermometer in the mouth and an icepack on the forehead

Does not know anything else, does not elaborate

Holds your hair back when you’re vomiting, does his very best but gets grossed out and runs off

Slides you water bottles and crackers

ASMODEUS:

Do not get sick around him (you rlly don’t have a choice)

Wears a medical mask the entire time bc he gets sick super easily

Can’t hold your hair back bc he starts sympathy vomiting and he hates it

Does not go near you the entire time if he can help it, and if he has to, he’s bringing a hazmat suit

Don’t touch him

Sprays you with sanitiser *

SATAN:

Second best person to get sick around

Tries to convince Lucifer that a cat’s purr heals humans super-fast so he can get a cat in the house

Does not work

Reads books trying to find herbal remedies for your illnesses nearly gets involved in an MLM

pets your hair like a cat when he holds it back when ur vomiting 

Has a book in the other hand

BEELZEBUB: 

Keeps trying to give you big greasy meals bc food always makes him feel better when he’s sick, Lucifer has to tell him to stop bc the food keeps making you nauseous

Starts bringing you light things like crackers and bread instead

Tries to carry you to the bathroom bc he’s afraid you’ll trip but ends up getting vomited on

Still tries to carry you afterwards, never learned his lesson

BELPHIE: 

Acts apathetic, is actually kind of worried

Sleeps next to you like a guard dog cow, MC trips on him on the way to the bathroom and now he has to clean up the vomit

Sleeps away from the bed now so it doesn’t happen again

Holds your hair back, and looks away to give you privacy

its bc he also has a weak stomach like Asmo

[stevishabitat]

Long rant/emotional vomit incoming…. 

Where to start? 

In August, our neighbors moved out and left their outdoor cat, Franklin behind. We'd gotten him neutered last year during the big TNR project, so he'd retired from both the kitten factory and the tom cat fight club. So he was left kind of hanging around at loose ends.

Franklin in his previous outdoor life

He'd come to the porch for dinner with the ferals, but we could tell he wasn't super healthy, and when we had a heatwave in the 100°F range, and saw him looking like melted cat on the hot pavement, we just couldn't stand it anymore. Clearly they weren't coming back for him, and no one else was taking care of him. So we brought him inside.

This brings our indoor crowd to six. Four adults and two kittens (all courtesy of the same neighbors who had a constant stream of kittens that they would raise and then put outdoors to fend for themselves - we are not regretting their departure from the neighborhood).

The Crew at Feeding Time

So Franklin actually adjusted really quickly to full-time indoor life. But he came with a bunch of hitchhikers. Ear mites, fleas, and tapeworm for certain. I tried OTC treatments at home, but wasn't making progress, and Franklin clearly also suffered from flea allergies and secondary ear infections and skin infections from the mites.

So off to the vet we went.

He had two different bacterial infections in his ears (the tech that read the ear swab slides said "beyond reality"), so he got a full-spectrum antibiotic shot, twice-daily ear mite treatment, and I ended up with a Revolution Plus prescription and tapeworm meds for all six cats, to break the parasite cycle.

Franklin at vet visit #1

I'm hoping we're on the upward swing of things, although Franklin still has raw patches from the flea allergies that he licks compulsively. I've used an OTC cortisone spray for him, but he may need a more systemic approach. Meaning either a shot or prescription. Another trip to the vet is in the works.

Frankie being just the Sweetest

Little man, Henry, still needs to be neutered and he's going on six months old, so I can't put it off much longer. Three of the others need annual vaccinations. The plan was to do one vet visit per month, if I can swing that financially, but that's looking more difficult than I hoped. 

The Babies: Henry and Patches

We are also fighting a losing battle to keep our water heater running. It was damaged by the flood last July, but we've kept it limping along for a whole year. We've now been without hot water since the beginning of September.

My grandma (who owns the house, but is currently living with another relative) is still hesitant to invest in a new water heater. It will take all of us (me, my parents, and grandma) to jointly pay for it. So without her go-ahead, we're kind of in limbo. There are a couple more parts we can try replacing before we're certain it's unfixable. But my dad doesn't want to pay a plumber, he wants to do those himself.  

I bought a tankless point-of-use water heater so we can at least put together a temporary shower and sink in the basement.

But getting that installed and set up has been more difficult and costly than expected (needing extra adapters and fixtures to connect to old plumbing) and although my dad is doing the work when he can, he's also working part-time and can barely walk most days. He can really only do at-home projects once a week at most, and some weeks he just doesn't have the time or physical capacity. 

My pharmacy, insurance, and neurologist can't seem to connect the dots to get my Aimovig refilled, so I'm now more than a month without a migraine preventative and I'm running out of rescue meds.

I had been paying someone to help around the house for an hour twice a month, but I really can't afford it. But without the help, and without migraine meds, and with cats that are still having digestive issues from the worms, and fleas still hatching out and infesting the house... It's a hot mess.

Can you believe this service exists???

Anyway, we're floundering.

Physically, financially, mentally, emotionally... It's draining.

Anyway, I basically ended up maxing out my credit card on all of this chaos. And this is the time of year that work slows down and overtime dries up.

I wasted so much money on things that didn't fix the fleas, or Franklin's illnesses, or the water heater, or my migraines... or... or....

So much money on meal replacement shakes because I'm too nauseated to eat, and delivery for kiddo because I don't have the energy to cook.

Bought a bunch of rinse-free body cleansers and shampoos so we can try to maintain self-care and hygiene without hot water. Got that tankless water heater and a shower tent and floor mat hoping to make kiddo more comfortable with showering somewhere other than the bathroom (they're still very much against the idea). 

The payment for kiddo's therapy bounced this week, and my biweekly paycheck can't cover that and the credit card payment. So it will probably bounce next week too. I think after two non-payments we have to give up our time slot. Therapy is so important for kiddo's mental health. I have to find a way to keep up with that if nothing else. 

Kiddo is absolutely at max capacity for demands and just can't help at all, can't even do basic self-care, clean up after themselves, or help with the cats like they used to. The state of the house is stressing them out, and they want more connection with me and Grandmummy, that we don't have the time or spoons to give.

Kiddo, Jack and Henry

My mom has also been without her meds for several weeks, and honestly, she's been in an autoimmune flare for most of this year. I think all the physical work from the flood, plus the mold, and a case of covid in the last year really messed her up. 

My dad going back to work (which was financially necessary) means he's physically unable to do things at home, and time wise he's not able to pick my sister-in-law up from work, or take grandma to doctors appointments - so all of that is on my mom now. So she's less able to spend time with kiddo - leaving me as sole caregiver most of the time, including when I'm working from home.

My car is still dead from the flood, and the vehicle I share with my parents has multiple issues. So I get groceries and necessary supplies delivered and only do errands on the day I take kiddo to therapy. That's about as much as I can physically do anyway.

That one time we thought the car was driveable (we were very wrong)

I was supposed to meet my (long-distance) girlfriend for renaissance festival this weekend, but I don't have gas money and her car is in the shop getting necessary brake repairs. It's our twice a year getaway without kids, and I think we're going to miss it.

RenFaire in the Spring

I'm really just venting because I don't have anyone to talk to who isn't also in the thick of it with me. 

I think a lot of my mutuals will understand all of this. So if you're in a mess like this, know that it's not just you. You aren't a failure. 

We're all doing the best we can, and sometimes no matter what you do, the best still looks like a disaster.