#and now seeing everyone love it as much as i do. MAN

[girlygguk]

crazy; jjk (m)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 15.5k

content jk 29 | yn 26, very jealous controlling and possessive jk, same for oc, spirited & bratty oc, jk is rich and spoils his girl, pet names, toxic relo, jk is a red flag, oc is a red flag, they’re obsessed w each other, bonnie n clyde ride or die type shit, soft yandere, drama, mc arguments, cursing, they get angry quick and over it quicker, bar fighting, jk punches a guy.. or two, blood, oc is roughly grabbed on arm by a male w/o consent, canon couple

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system, daddy kink, consensual degradation, fingering (f rec), oral (f rec), cum eating, dirty talk, breeding kink, condomless p in v sex, oc has an IUD, multiple orgasms, creampie, kinda rough(?) sex but i think it ends quite softly, theyre dirty and in love!

a/n pls read all the warnings first & only proceed if ur comfortable!! these two are superr obsessively dependent and possessive so tread lightly baby 🙂‍↕️!! im kinda self conscious abt the smut but i like the fic part and i hope u do too <<3 lemme know if i missed any tags 🖤 mwah

There was something dangerous about him. Something you couldn’t help but be drawn to, no matter how much you knew you shouldn’t. It was like playing with fire—intoxicating, thrilling… stupid.

You knew it complicated things, maybe even made life harder, but you never had been one to back down from a challenge. And when someone like Jeon Jungkook—the kind of man who looked like pure trouble but made you feel more alive than you ever had—walked into your life, resisting him was never even an option.

It hadn’t always been like this. You used to date Park Hyungwon, after all.

Hyungwon was perfectly fine. Kind, sweet, thoughtful in all the ways that made him a good guy. The type who held open doors and asked if you wanted to split dessert. You’d met him through his cousin, Jimin—your colleague and an absolute angel on Earth. In fact, you ended up closer to Jimin than you ever were with Hyungwon.

Because Hyungwon? He was just… ordinary.

There was nothing wrong with ordinary. Some people needed that. They craved stability, predictability. But you? You realized a long time ago that you needed more. You craved intensity. You needed to feel like someone’s whole world. And when your boyfriend didn’t care who you were with, what you were doing, when he didn’t even notice if you went days without texting… well, you started to feel invisible.

You knew it sounded twisted. That most people would see Hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. Healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. But that’s when you realized... you weren’t like most people.

And then he entered the picture.

Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Jeon Corp, son of the late Jeon Jun-seo.

You’d been at Jeon Corp for three years now, starting as a temp and moving into a more permanent role. Everyone knew him—the young, ruthless leader who took over seamlessly and ran things with an iron grip after his father's passing. People admired him, respected him. Feared him.

It had been two years since you made it official with the man you knew was the epic love of your life. Before that, you were friends with benefits for—what, a week? Maybe less. You both knew right from the start that there was no going back to being just colleagues or fuck-buddies. He consumed you, and you reveled in every second of it.

In the early days of your relationship, you couldn’t help but worry. Maybe your promotion had less to do with your work ethic and more to do with Jungkook lusting for you. It was hard not to question it, especially when he was your boss, and you knew exactly how intense his desire for you was. But Jungkook shut that shit down fast.

He had hundreds of employees under him, most of whom he hadn’t even had a proper conversation with. He’d approached you solely because of your performance—your results catching his attention long before he even knew what you looked like. Jimin had confirmed it.

Still, you loved teasing him about it—how he’d basically been eye-fucking you the entire time during your first real meeting. Jungkook never denied it. He would just give you that cheeky, devilish grin of his, reminding you just how that meeting had concluded—with you, bent right over his desk.

Now, sitting at Lumi’s bar with the soft murmur of conversations and the clink of glasses fading into background noise, your phone buzzed with a new message. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, heat spreading through your veins as you read his words.

My Love 10:43 PM Why is your location off? Sent with Siri

10:43 PM Turn it on. Now. Sent with Siri

You bit your lip, already imagining the storm brewing inside him. He was driving, and now probably wasn’t the best time to mess with him. But you were still pissed. And the brat in you couldn’t resist poking him just a little more.

You 10:47 PM i'm out, my love.

His reply was immediate, almost before you even hit send.

My Love 10:47 PM Not in the mood baby. Turn it on

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh as you took another sip of your drink. You could picture him now, pulling the car over, typing furiously with that adorable, frustrated frown. Oh, he was pissed—but that only made it more fun. You let him stew for a few minutes longer.

You 10:52 PM bad day at work? :(

His next texts came in a flurry, and you could almost feel the heat in them.

My Love 10:52 PM Why the fuck are you taking so long to respond? Who are you with?

10:53 PM You didnt tell me you were going out tonight and I just went all the way to your fucking house to find out you’re not even there? And your car’s gone? You drove to go out??? Are you fucking crazy?

His jealousy stoked a fire inside you. You knew better than to test his patience... but you just couldn’t help yourself.

You pulled up your camera and hit record. It started with your legs—crossed elegantly on the stool, the hem of your little black dress riding up just enough to tease. You let your foot swing, the glossy polish on your toes catching the dim light. The clip was short, but you knew Jungkook would recognize the bar in an instant.

Then, you flipped the camera. Your face came into view, framed by a pout and the neckline of your dress—the replacement for the one he’d ripped clean off you the last time some idiot tried to touch you. Jungkook had beaten the guy to a pulp, of course, which was why you were both banned from JaeJae's nightclub downtown. But you hadn’t cared then, and you certainly didn’t now.

Just before you stopped recording, you made sure the camera caught a glimpse of the arm next to you—the arm belonging to the guy who had been sulking since you brushed off his lame advances. You had been ignoring him ever since you walked in, but apparently, he was as clueless as he was underwhelming.

You hadn’t expected to be at this bar alone. In fact, you were supposed to be home with Jungkook tonight. He’d promised an early finish—four o’clock, to be exact—and you’d planned a cute pamper night for the two of you. Face masks, cheesy rom-coms. You even baked cookies.

But then, three o’clock rolled around, and your phone rang. His voice on the other end was apologetic, practically rehearsed at this point. He had to stay late. Again. Not even just a little late—ten-fucking-thirty late. Two hours past his usual finishing time.

You were livid. He promised you tonight.

You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence before hanging up, ignoring the rapid flood of missed calls and texts as you angrily dumped the chocolate chip cookies in the trash.

You were so pissed you might’ve even made his assistant, Hoseok, cry when Jungkook sent him over to check on you. Poor guy. You’d apologize later. Maybe.

By the time 10:32 hit and your phone was still silent, that pit of anger in your stomach twisted into something much sharper. You pulled up the security cameras at his office—and, of course, the room was empty. His briefcase, his keys… all gone.

He had left work without even telling you.

He always texted you when he was leaving the office. You knew there wasn’t a chance in hell it was infidelity; that wasn’t even a possibility. Cheating wasn’t something either of you entertained. But the silence? The lack of communication? That cut.

Sure, you’d been ignoring his calls ever since he canceled on you… but you were allowed to be pissed right now. He? Was not.

When your doorbell camera alert went off at 10:42, right before you were about to check his location, you felt a mix of relief and annoyance rise in your chest. You pulled up the feed to see him standing there—frustrated, fist clenched around his phone, clearly ready for a confrontation.

But you weren’t home.

You were here, at this grimy, sticky bar. Waiting.

The guy next to you shifted in his seat again, breaking you out of your thoughts. He was still there, lingering, despite your obvious disinterest. But honestly, you were kind of glad he hadn’t left.

Because the response you got from Jungkook when you hit send on that video?

Absolutely fucking perfect.

My Love 10:55 PM I'll be there in five minutes.

10:56 PM And if there is anyone sitting next to you who doesn't have a cunt or the name Park Jimin, theyre fucking dead Y/N

10:56 PM And you’re fucking walking home

You suppressed a laugh as you wiped the sugary remnants of your drink from your lips, knowing better than anyone just how serious he was.

As much as you hated to admit it, you loved the way Jungkook loved you. His possessiveness didn’t bother you. In fact, it drove you wild. That definitely made you as much of a red flag as him. But did you care?

A few minutes passed as you took some selfies and uploaded them to your Instagram story, twirling the straw in your glass absentmindedly. Then you remembered the idiot next to you.

"Oh," you said, clearing your throat. He perked up immediately, pulling his beer away from his lips as he turned toward you, eyes lighting up in anticipation. Gross. "You might want to leave."

His smile faltered, confusion knitting his brow. "What?"

You blinked, tilting your head slightly as if he hadn’t just heard you. Leaning in closer, you repeated yourself. "I said, you might want to leave."

He chuckled, leaning in way too close, his breath hot and stale. “Why would I do that? Sitting next to a pretty thing like you? You look a little bored, baby… I can keep you entertained.”

You suppressed a gag. "Hard pass." You shuddered, pulling back. “But really, my boyfriend’s on his way, and he’s pissed. You might want to move down a seat or two.”

He just laughed, lifting his beer again and taking a long gulp, his eyes creepily never leaving yours. "I can handle myself just fine, sweetheart. It’s hot that you’re worried about me, though."

God. You’d never been drier in your entire life.

"Your funeral," you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your phone.

A few more minutes passed in silence, and just when you thought the idiot might’ve finally left you alone, you felt him shift again, turning toward you like he was about to start up another conversation. You sighed, not actually wanting to watch another guy get the shit beaten out of him. So, you grabbed your purse and your half-empty glass, ready to leave.

But just as you slid off the stool, his hand wrapped around your arm.

"Where are you going, baby?” His voice dripped with sleaze. “This playing hard-to-get thing was sexy at first, but now it’s getting kinda boring.”

Your stomach turned, and you yanked your arm from his grip, disgust curling your lip. "Eugh, could you be any more of a stereotypical douche? Get a fucking life."

You took a step to leave, but his hand clamped down on your arm again, harder this time.

“You’ve got a mouth on you, huh?” His voice dropped, and a sickening grin spread across his face as his fingers dug deeper into your skin. “That’s okay. I like ’em that way.”

Rage flared in your chest, hot and immediate. Without thinking, your hand swung forward, and the rest of your drink splashed across his smug face. His eyes widened in shock, the liquid dripping off his chin, but you weren’t finished.

Your free hand darted into the outer pocket of your purse, fingers wrapping around the pink pepper spray canister Jungkook bought for you. You whipped it out, aiming the nozzle directly at his face and pressed down hard.

“Fuck!” he screamed, stumbling back, hands flying to his eyes. But you didn’t let up. The adrenaline thrummed in your veins as you kept spraying, ignoring the yelps and curses spilling from his lips as he clawed at his burning face.

“You crazy fucking bitch! Stop!”

“God, you piece of shit!” you yelled, uncaring of the stares now fixed on you. “Don’t ever touch anyone when they don’t want you to! Fucking pig!”

The can felt significantly lighter by the time you finally stopped, and the guy was practically on his knees, whimpering. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the bartender waving security in your direction and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Typical. He’d been close enough to hear everything, but now he wanted to intervene?

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, slamming your empty glass on the bar before turning to leave.

“I’m going, I’m going,” you scoffed as the guard approached, adjusting your purse on your shoulder and smoothing down the hem of your dress. As you turned to walk away, you pulled out your phone, thumb hovering over Jungkook’s contact.

But before you could make it far, a heavy hand pressed into your back, shoving you toward the exit.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you snapped, stumbling as the security guard forced you forward. “I said I’m leaving. I’m just calling my boyfriend. Let go of me, freak—”

“Ma’am, don’t speak to me like that,” the guard growled, his voice deep and commanding. “Get outside, now.”

“I'm going, you big loof. Can you at least let me wait in the bathroom? If my boyfriend sees me standing outside alone, he’s gonna—”

"I don’t care what he’s gonna do to you, ma’am. Keep moving."

You almost laughed. "Do to me?" You were about to tell him how wrong he had it—that he should be the one worried—when suddenly, the hand on your back vanished. You stopped, brushing yourself off, ready to turn and gloat.

But it wasn’t your words that made him let go. It was Jungkook.

Your very angry boyfriend had shoved the guard—who was easily twice his size—backwards so hard the guy stumbled, nearly falling over.

Jungkook’s eyes were wild, flicking between you and the security guard, a dangerous mix of concern and pure rage.

"Oh, hi, baby—"

“Get in the car,” he growled, his voice low and deadly as he handed you his keys. “And lock the fucking doors. Now.”

His tone sent a shiver down your spine, and you bit back the urge to argue. Instead, you took the keys and turned toward the door, but the security guard wasn’t backing down.

"You and your bitch need to leave now," the guard snapped. "You’re banned from this bar."

Another one? You almost pouted, but he kept going.

"We have you on CCTV. If the victim presses charges, you’ll be contacted."

“What victim?” You laughed, taking a step toward the guy. “You’re gonna let that pig press charges?”

Jungkook’s head snapped toward you, jaw clenched, staying firmly between you and the goon. “What is he talking about? Who’s pressing charges?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you gestured toward the guy still rubbing his eyes with a bar towel, water dripping down his face. “That idiot. But it’s fine, baby. I finally got to use the pepper spray you gave me,” you added, poking Jungkook’s stomach with a giddy smile.

His lips twitched, but his expression stayed serious. “Why’d you have to use it?”

You shrugged, tilting your head, giving him that innocent look you knew drove him crazy. "He kept trying to touch me, but don’t worry, I handled it. Let’s go now, please."

But Jungkook’s gaze was already darkening, his eyes now fixed on the pathetic excuse of a man across the room. You could see the anger rising, feel the tension radiating off him, and you knew he was seconds away from losing his shit.

“Let’s just go, love,” you urged, voice rushing as you eyed the situation. “It’s over now.”

The security guard had disappeared to fetch backup, and you couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. The fact that he needed help dealing with Jungkook was almost laughable. Your man might not have been the biggest guy in the room, but you knew that shove must have rattled him, seeing as though the sidekick he'd now acquired was even bigger than he was.

And they were both stomping toward you.

You turned to warn Jungkook, “Baby—” but as your eyes shifted back to him, he was no longer at your side.

Your gaze snapped to the bar. There he was—storming up to the sleazebag still nursing his wet eyes with a towel, completely unaware that your furious boyfriend was closing in behind him. Ugh, he was like an angry, sexy bunny.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, pushing past a couple of people and hurrying over as quick as you could in your three-thousand-dollar stilettos.

As turned on as you were by the sight of him right now, you really didn’t need him missing work tomorrow because he'd been locked up for the night.

And then you, of course, also missing work because you had to sleep in the uncomfortable plastic chair next to his cell, since the officers wouldn’t accept bail again until he had completed his twelve-hour minimum hold.

You were almost there when you saw it—Jungkook’s hand gripping the back of the guy’s collar, yanking him back with so much force that the idiot’s eyes flew open in shock, panic flooding his face as he realized what was happening.

You bit your lip, trying to shove away the image that popped into your head of Jungkook’s hand tangled in your hair, pulling you up in that exact same way when he had you beneath him, forcing your eyes on his as he drove into you from behind.

God, not now, Y/N.

“Koo, baby, wait—” you called, but it was too late. He was gone.

Before the guy could even think about pushing Jungkook off, your boyfriend slammed his head down onto the bar with a sickening crack that echoed through the room. You winced, feeling the pain in your own skull just by watching it.

“Fuckkkk,” you hissed, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. His muscles were rigid, vibrating with barely controlled rage. “Baby, come on. Security is coming—let’s go—”

But your words didn’t register. Jungkook was in another world, eyes burning with an almost feral intensity as he jerked the guy back up.

Without hesitation, he reeled back and delivered a brutal punch to the guy’s face, the thud of knuckles against bone filled the space as the man’s head snapped to the side, his knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor in a heap.

You sucked your teeth in frustration. You couldn’t care less if the guy sat there on the ground and bled out, truly. What you did care about was the thought of Jimin covering your shift tomorrow because you had to spend the night bailing Jungkook out of jail again.

“Okay, my love, that’s good. Now let’s go—”

“Baby, go and—” Jungkook growled, his voice dangerous and low, as he lifted the guy again. His fist swung forward, colliding with the man’s nose, and you winced at the sharp crunch that followed. The guy collapsed again, shaky hands cradling his face as blood spurted from his mouth.

Jungkook’s head whipped around, his dark gaze locking onto you with a ferocity that sent a chill down your spine. “Go and get in the fucking car,” he snapped.

“No, you fucking idiot, come with me—”

Before you could finish your sentence, your feet were suddenly off the ground, the world spinning as you were slung over a massive shoulder. It took you a second to process what the fuck was happening.

"What the fuck!" you screamed, pounding your fists against the back of the goliath security guard who was carrying you like a sack of potatoes. Your purse fell to the ground as the guy just kept walking toward the exit like you were nothing. "Put me down, you fucking freak!"

Through your distorted, lopsided vision, you caught sight of the other, even bigger, guard heading for Jungkook while you were being dragged away.

The second your boyfriend saw what was happening to you, the loser he had been beating on was forgotten. His eyes locked on the guard manhandling you, and fury ignited in his expression.

The guard approaching barely had time to take a step before Jungkook threw him to the ground like he weighed nothing. His unbuttoned dress shirt sleeves exposed the veins in his arms, rippling as he stormed toward you with a look that promised murder. Yummy.

You were still smacking the back of the giant guard carrying you, panic creeping in as the door got closer and closer. "Baby, my purse!" you whined, halting your attack for a second and pointing to the ground. Jungkook was already stalking past it. "Pick it up!"

He grunted in frustration, turning on his heel to grab the fallen Prada before charging back after you. 

The guard reached the door just as Jungkook caught up, and you braced yourself for the moment you’d be tossed out like trash. But in one quick motion, Jungkook grabbed your outstretched hand and used his other hand to grab you by the bum, pulling you off the guard’s shoulder.

You beamed as he set you back on your feet, happily taking your purse from him while he just rolled his eyes. Then, he turned and sent his fist straight to the giant’s jaw. The guard actually stumbled backward, clearly feeling the weight of the hit, and for a brief moment, you thought it was over.

But then the bastard straightened up, cracked his neck like a fucking terminator, and stepped forward again, completely unfazed.

"What. The. Fuck," you seethed, your eyes widening in disbelief. You grabbed Jungkook’s hand, tugging him back, but he was already mirroring the guard’s steps, ready to go again.

"Nope," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his bicep and using every ounce of strength to drag him toward the door.

You knew he could easily overpower you, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he debated it. But after a beat, he scoffed, shooting a final glare at the guard, who had stopped in place, phone in hand as he watched you haul Jungkook outside.

Probably calling the cops, taking down your registration—whatever the fuck. You could already imagine the panic on Jeon Co.’s PR team’s faces when they caught wind of this fuck fest of a night.

You finally let go of Jungkook’s arm when you got outside, your hand diving into your purse for his car keys. He followed close behind, silent but simmering with rage, as you both made your way to his car. It was parked right next to the entrance—definitely not in an actual spot—but he clearly didn’t care. He’d probably left it there to get to you faster.

As soon as the cold air hit your face and you and Jungkook were away from everyone, it’s like all your anger from earlier flooded right back.

You marched straight toward the driver’s seat, just wanting to get the hell out of there, but before you could reach for the door handle, Jungkook’s bruised hand snaked around your waist and pulled you back against him. He plucked the keys from your hand with ease, scoffing under his breath as he ushered you toward the passenger side.

"Give me the fucking keys, Jungkook—"

He let out a dark, humorless laugh. "First of all, you’ve been drinking. Don’t be fucking stupid. Second of all, why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I’m mad at you!"

"I had a fucking lemonade, I didn’t drink, you psycho!" you snapped, spinning on your heel to face him. "And, I’m sorry, mad at me?" You shoved his hand off your stomach and made a grab for the keys, but he slipped them into his pocket, resting his hand right over them like he was daring you to try.

"You’re the one who just went ape-shit and beat half the bar to a fucking pulp!"

"Don’t be dramatic," he rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the car like he hadn’t just trashed multiple people inside.

"You just fucking—"

He narrowed his eyes dangerously. "And why am I here in the first place, Y/N?"

"Oh, I don’t know," you snapped back, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe because you’re a—"

You cut yourself off this time, catching the slight arch of his brows—just a fraction.

His head tilted, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

"I’m a what, baby?" His voice was low, amused, taunting.

You squinted at him, but he just waited, utterly patient, like he had all the time in the world.

"I’m a what?"

Your eyes rolled to the sky in frustration, and you turned your back on him, yanking on the door handle in frustration. But of course, it was locked. You didn’t even bother looking back at him.

"Open the door, Jungkook."

"Sure," he jingled the keys in his pocket with infuriating calmness, "When you finish your sentence. I’m a what?"

You glared over your shoulder at him, biting back a snarl as your eyes raked down his stupidly gorgeous frame. Tousled hair, the top two buttons of his dress shirt sluttily popped open, bruised and bloody hands casually tucked into the pockets of his designer slacks. So fucking annoying.

"You," you started, eyes narrowing as you stepped back. "Are sleeping alone tonight." You punctuated it with a sarcastic smile before pushing off the car and storming down the street toward your own.

The second you started walking, you heard his footsteps trailing after you like a shadow. You just shook your head, your tone clipped as you bit out, "Go home, Jungkook. Your home. I’m sleeping at my own place tonight."

"Mm, and how do you plan on getting there?" His voice followed, calm—too calm.

"Hmm, take a wild fucking guess, genius," you snapped, diving back into your purse to grab your keys. But your hand came up empty.

"Mother fucker," you hissed, spinning around to find yourself face-to-face with his broad chest. You took a breath, glaring up at him. "Give me my keys."

"When you finish what you were saying," he replied lowly.

You scoffed, incredulous. "You’ll give me my keys and let me drive home if I finish my sentence?" You almost laughed in his face, knowing damn well he was full of shit.

"No," he shrugged, his honesty almost infuriating, "but I still want you to say it."

You groaned, exasperated. "Why is it so important to you—"

"Everything you say is important to me." His tone was unflinchingly direct. "And I want to know what you think of me."

For a split second, your heart tugged at his words, even as the anger bubbling in your chest fought to take over.

You weren’t mad at him for going in there and smashing that dirty sleaze’s head into the counter. You weren’t mad that he had taken on the Goliath twins like a reckless maniac with no concern for his own well-being.

You were mad because he lied to you.

"A liar." The words slipped from your lips, quiet but cutting, your eyes locking with his.

The flicker of pain that flashed across his gaze was immediate. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had braced himself for you to call him a possessive jerk, a jealous asshole, even a fucking loser. But not that.

"Baby," Jungkook swallowed, his beaten hands slowly gliding down to caress the sides of the dress he both loved and hated seeing you in. "I’m so sorry."

"Yeah," you nodded, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away just as he tried to lean down for a kiss. "Always are, huh?"

"Please, don’t," he sighed softly, his breath warm against your neck as his nose nuzzled into your skin. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had buried his fist into a guy’s jaw just five minutes ago. “I would never leave your side if I didn’t have to. You know that. You have to know that.”

"And you just had to stay back tonight of all nights?" Your words were sharp, cutting. "Couldn’t get one of your two fucking assistants to carry some of the workload? Or maybe that slut from level 7 who’s always begging to take some stress off her ‘big, hunky, hardworking boss?’"

Jungkook let out a low chuckle, nipping at your neck in amusement when you imitated Heejin’s voice. She hadn’t ever said anything quite that bold—obviously. You would’ve had him fire her on the spot if she had. But her lingering glances, the way she was always offering herself up for extra tasks, the way she hovered around… yeah, her actions spoke louder than words, and it made your blood fucking boil.

"Our board meeting ran way overtime, and they sprung last-minute critical amendments on us for the Cypher Project, baby," he mumbled into your skin, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. "You know no one else could’ve handled it, or I would’ve been out of there."

"Okay." You nodded, lips pressing together as you let him kiss your neck for a while, but your mind was still racing.

"Okay?" he echoed in a hum, his mouth moving lower, pressing another soft kiss just above your collarbone. He sounded almost suspicious at how easily you seemed to be dropping the argument.

"Okay," you repeated, still letting him kiss you, your body slightly relaxing under his touch.

He hummed again, but then something clicked. No. This was too easy. You were never this quick to drop an argument. There wasn’t nearly enough groveling.

"Baby—"

Before he could finish, your hand shot into his left pocket, snatching the keys and shoving him you off with your other hand. He stumbled back, eyes wide with surprise as he barely caught his balance. You didn’t wait around to see him recover; you just turned and headed straight for your car.

Of course, he followed.

"Baby, come on—"

You didn’t stop, your pace quickening as you adjusted your handbag on your shoulder. "Nope. Don’t care."

"Baby, I'm fucking sorry."

"Uh-huh," you muttered, clicking the button to unlock your car before yanking the door open. He was right behind you, still trying.

“You’re not seriously leaving me right now, are you?”

You shot him a cold glance, leaning on the car door. “Yep. Maybe you should call Heejin—see if she’s free tonight. She can keep my side of the bed warm,” you spat, sliding into the driver’s seat.

His jaw ticked, tongue poking at the side of his cheek as he leaned back, letting you slam the door in his face. The engine roared to life, filling the thick silence between you two, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he nodded, something dark flashing in his eyes as his teeth toyed with his lip ring.

“You know I’m just gonna follow you, right?” His low voice carried through the glass, calm as ever.

You rolled your eyes, throwing the car into gear and pulling out of the lot.

But you weren’t the least bit surprised when, just a few moments later, you caught sight of his car pulling out right behind you.

He was home before you.

Not that you were surprised. You had gotten the doorbell alert two streets over, and it only made you scoff, your foot easing off the gas as you slowed down even more, wanting to make him wait. You had briefly considered going to Jimin’s for the night, but you knew better. Even though Jungkook had a soft spot for his assistant, there was no way in hell he’d let you sleep over at another guy’s house, and you weren't about to drag Jimin into that.

Sliding out of your car, you said nothing, grabbing your coat and purse from the passenger seat before locking it. Jungkook was already perched on your front doorstep, his head snapping up the second your tires crunched against the driveway.

“Baby, I need you to turn your location back on. I get it. You made your point—”

“Don’t start, Jungkook.” You sighed, your heels clicking against the stone steps as you brushed past him to unlock the front door.

You didn’t even bother closing the door behind you as you walked in, knowing he was right behind, the sound of it clicking shut as he locked it for you. Your purse and coat landed carelessly on the hallway table, and your fingers instinctively massaged the soreness creeping up the side of your neck. Without a word, Jungkook crouched down and slipped off your heels, lining them up neatly next to his shoes.

It was late, and the exhaustion that had been chasing you all night was finally sinking in. Your body ached, your mind was running on fumes, and all you really wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep. But something in the air told you that wasn’t happening any time soon. Whether it would be another argument, angry makeup sex, or another night of kicking Jungkook to the couch—only to lie sleepless for an hour before dragging his ass back to your bed—you weren’t sure yet.

Your steps were slow as you made your way to the bathroom, flicking the light on before leaning heavily against the sink. You cracked your neck, your eyes closing for a brief moment as the exhaustion took over.

You didn’t even flinch when Jungkook’s chest pressed against your back, his strong arms slipping around you as he reached for the faucet to wash his hands. The water ran pinkish, swirling down the drain as it cleared the blood and dirt from his knuckles, but you weren’t concerned. He knew how to throw a punch safely—years of boxing and training made sure of that. This was very mild compared to the damage he’d done in the early days of your relationship. Back then, you’d spent more time getting him unbanned from clubs than actually enjoying them.

He dried his hands slowly, taking his time before reaching for one of your hair ties on the counter. His fingers worked through your hair, gathering it into a loose ponytail.

You were far too drained to even consider pushing him away—not that you would’ve, even if you weren’t. Upset? Sure. But truly mad? Not really.

You knew exactly what you were getting into when you fell for a wildly successful, young CEO. Long nights, last-minute cancellations, missed plans—it was the nature of his world. Normally, you accepted it. But tonight had been different. Tonight was supposed to be one of the rare, precious evenings you finally had time to spend together after months of clashing schedules. You’d planned for it, gotten excited about it, and then… it was ruined. So, yeah, you were pissed.

But at the same time, you understood. The Cypher Project was monumental for Jeon Corp. Jungkook had poured nearly a year of blood, sweat, and no sleep into it. It was his baby, and only a handful of people were allowed anywhere near it—his assistants, his CCO, and you. This project mattered. But god, you missed him.

This, though? This was just typical Jeon Jungkook groveling. He’d pamper you, apologize at least a thousand times, buy you another bag or three, and then fuck you until you couldn’t remember why you were mad in the first place. The order of events varied; the bags sometimes took a day or two to arrive.

Once your hair was up, he gently spun you around and lifted you onto the bathroom counter. Your eyes remained shut as he moved between your legs, his long arms reaching for your skincare products. You didn’t have to tell him anything—he knew your routine better than you did at this point.

Before he got started, you cracked one eye open, just for a moment, grabbing his right hand and holding it softly in your lap. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, following the tiny splits. One was still bleeding slightly, while the other looked like it would be bruising by morning.

“Getting better, baby. Barely any blood this time,” you hummed, lifting his hand to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss to his knuckles before closing your eyes again, waiting.

He smiled at that, though you couldn’t see it. The weight of the towel settled on your lap, and his hand left yours, resting lightly on your chest as he leaned you down, cupping warm water from the sink to wet your face. You stayed still, letting him move through the motions, only shifting when he needed you to. His touch was precise but gentle as he massaged the cleanser into your skin.

Your toes wiggled absentmindedly on either side of his thighs, tapping softly against him while he moved through your products, handling each one with practiced ease.

Jungkook was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke.

"I want to move in with you."

You didn’t open your eyes—mostly because your face was covered in toner—but the way your feet stopped swinging and your eyebrows shot up said everything.

“Well, that’s one way to grovel,” you muttered under your breath, leaning down blindly to rinse your face. Jungkook cupped his hand, helping you wash off the spots you missed before gently wiping your face dry with the towel. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips through the fabric.

Cute, you thought.

“Gross,” you mumbled, the faintest smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t respond, just slipped his hands down your bare legs, wrapping them securely around his waist. You tugged the towel down and blinked up at his pretty face. He just stood there, quiet, watching you. Waiting.

"Are you waiting for something?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He bit his lip, barely concealing a smile. “Hmm. Is that how you’re going to be?”

“I don’t know what you mean…”

“So your answer is no, then.” He hummed.

“My answer is nothing because you didn’t ask me a question,” you retorted, brattily swatting his bum with your foot, the light tap making him smirk.

“It’s going to happen eventually,” he said, his tone certain, almost mocking, as he leaned down to brush his lips against yours. His hand caught your ankle, stopping your wandering toe from getting too close to the no-go zone. Well, except that one ti—

“May as well get it out of the way, baby.”

“Oh,” you laughed, amusement coloring your voice as you unwrapped your legs from his waist, resting them on the counter. “Glad you consider the next step in our relationship something we should just get out of the way.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement as he pulled your legs back down, positioning himself firmly between them again, his hands settling possessively on your thighs. “You know what I mean,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a low growl.

“You already know I’d do anything with you, baby,” you sighed, rolling your eyes as your feet lifted back up to drum lightly against his bum. “But I’m annoyed that you asked me this right after an argument. You’re just doing what you think will make me happy—”

The cold, metallic sensation on your thigh interrupted your sentence. Frowning, you glanced down to see his tattooed hand resting on your skin, something small and cool pressed beneath his palm.

Your brows furrowed. “Move your hand, Kookie.”

He didn’t move, his gaze locking with yours. His eyes were serious—more serious than you’d seen in a long while. And that was saying something. Jungkook was always confident, always certain about your relationship, but this… this was different.

“Y/N,” he said softly, his tongue flicking at his lip ring.

“Yes?” you asked, your voice softening as your finger reached up to gently swat his tongue away before you adjusted his lip ring back into place.

“You know how much I love you, right? Like, really know how in love with you I am?” His voice was so genuine, his eyes searching yours intently.

Your head tilted slightly as you swallowed the urge to tease him. The feeling of that little cool object under his palm had your mind racing. You already knew exactly what it was, and if you’d been wearing underwear right now, they’d be fucking soaked.

“I do,” you nodded just as seriously, your hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs as you leaned forward, waiting for his pouty lips to meet yours. He didn’t make you wait long, leaning down immediately, humming as you gently suckled on his tongue and over his lip ring before pulling back.

“I know, baby. I feel it every day." You spoke against his lips, giving them a soft peck before pulling back a little, "I’m so lucky to have you all to myself. I love you just as much, my darling. I hope you know that.”

“I do, baby.” He nodded, leaning down to brush his pretty nose against yours. “You’re it for me, angel. There’s no one after you. That, I know.”

“Mmh,” you grunted in delight, your nose scrunching as your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your lips, hard.

Jungkook melted into you instantly, his hands finding their way up your body as he kissed you with the kind of need that made your entire body hum. His fingers curled into the back of your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss, and you moaned softly against his mouth, just as his hands moved lower.

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, breaking the kiss suddenly as your eyes dropped to the now-uncovered little piece of metal resting on your thigh.

Tears welled up in your eyes the moment you saw it. Your hand darted down, snatching up the now-warm key like it was made of glass, your fingers trembling as you inspected it. This wasn’t a key to his penthouse—you already had one of those.

This was new. Bigger. And turning you the fuck on.

Jungkook's bunny teeth grazed his lip ring, a rare flicker of hesitation crossing his face as he watched you silently. Jeon Jungkook didn’t get nervous. He was rich, successful, gorgeous, and had the hottest girl he had ever seen in his life all to himself. But even he couldn’t deny that his heart was beating a little fast, or whatever.

“Baby, fuck," you choked out, your brows furrowing as the tears threatened to spill over. You looked up at him, still clutching the key. "You fucking... ugh!"

Your hand gripped the collar of his shirt, yanking him back down to you. You kissed him again, deep and needy, your lips crashing against his with a desperation you couldn’t quite name.

"Love me that much, hm?" you mumbled between kisses, your voice husky, body arching into him as his tattooed hands slid down your sides, long fingers squeezing around the soft flesh. "Bought me a fucking house, huh, baby?"

Jungkook’s smirk brushed against your lips, so cocky, so him. “Well, I’m not fucking renting it.”

A loud laugh bubbled out of you, muffled by his mouth still pressed against yours. It was cut short when his tongue slipped past your parted lips, hot and familiar, moving with practiced ease.

His tongue... fuck, with the number of times and places you’d had it in your body, you were sure you could pick it out from a lineup blindfolded. Skilled, wet, with that lingering touch of cigarette. Fucking perfect.

You grunted against his mouth, your hand blindly reaching to set the key on the counter without pulling away. “Told you to stop smoking.”

“Told you to get fucked,” he hummed back, his words vibrating on your tongue as his hands slid from your hips to your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before pulling you flush against his growing bulge.

“Cunt,” you giggled, your fingers tangling around the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper, your tongue chasing that smoky flavor as heat pulsed between your legs. The softest whine escaped your lips as you swallowed his taste.

“Bitch,” he mumbled lowly, tattooed fingers giving a dirty squeeze to your ass, brows furrowing in delight as his hips ground into yours, the thick, hard length of him pressing between your thighs. Even through the layers of fabric, the friction sent a needy throb straight to your clit.

Your nails scratched lightly against the nape of his neck, and just as you were about to bite down on his tongue, he suddenly pulled back, leaving your lips parted in a confused pout.

“What?” you whined, trying to tug him back down to your mouth, but he wasn’t budging. His eyes were locked in place.

On your crotch.

Oh.

“Y/N.” His voice dropped, deeper, more dangerous.

“Yes, my love?” you blinked innocently, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He didn’t move.

“Are you not wearing fucking panties?”

“Um,” you pursed your lips, pretending to think. “Would you believe me if I said I was?”

Your boyfriend scoffed sorely, giving a bitter nod before peeling himself from you completely and walking out of the bathroom.

You sat there for a second, blinking, frowning at the sight of him walking away, watching how the thick muscles in his back rippled beneath his shirt. God, you just wanted to run your tongue over every inch of that perfect, sinful skin, remembering all the times you had gotten off just by riding that big fucking back—

Shit.

“Baby!” you called after him with a pout, hopping off the counter and ignoring the sticky feeling between your thighs as your feet hit the floor. You wobbled slightly, legs stiff from sitting too long. With a quick kiss to the key resting beside the sink, you dropped it into your jewelry case and scurried after your angry boyfriend.

“Kookie, hold on…” The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway, needy and impatient.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You were really pissed when he canceled, okay, and so you did the one thing you knew would get under his skin... going commando in public when he wasn’t around.

You fully expected him to find out at the bar or during some angry foreplay at home. Then, he’d get all sexy, possessive, and you’d end up screaming his name so loud your neighbors would complain again.

But not like this. Not after he’d been so gentle, taking your makeup off with soft, careful touches. Not after he’d just given you the key to the fucking house he bought for the two of you! He was probably feeling all soft and vulnerable, having just taken such a big step in your relationship...

You know, people didn’t really get it—but deep down, your boyfriend was just a big, cuddly teddy bear. Sure, a teddy bear with like three assault charges, but that’s besides the point.

God. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Jungkook didn’t stop. He rounded the corner into your bedroom, shoulders stiff, jaw clenched.

You followed him in, flicking on the light just in time to see him unbuttoning his shirt, quietly tugging it free from where it had been tucked into his slacks. His back was to you, standing near your vanity, jaw tight with restraint, anger radiating off him in waves.

The muscles in his broad shoulders flexed as you stepped closer, your palms sliding up the expanse of his back.

"Baby, I'm—"

"Don't." His voice was low, firm—a quiet command cutting off any apology on the tip of your tongue. He pulled his shirt off, tossing it over the chair beside him before his hand moved to his belt, the metallic clink sounding sharper in the silence of the room.

You sighed softly, pressing a kiss to his warm, bare shoulder, the skin still taut with tension. Your forehead rested against his back as your arms wrapped around his waist, holding him close. “Are you mad at me?”

"Mhm." He scoffed, pulling his belt through the loops and throwing it onto the growing pile of clothes.

Without a word, he shrugged off your hold, his back stiff as he walked over to your dresser. Opening the middle drawer, he pulled out one of his shirts, and without even looking back at you, he held it out.

You didn’t hesitate, taking it from his hand. He didn’t need to say anything—Jungkook never wore shirts to bed. Your fingers slipped behind your back, tugging down the zipper of your dress before you let the fabric fall in a pool at your feet.

His eyes caught your movement in the mirror, and he scoffed softly, watching as you unclasped your bra. The bra slipped down, the absence of panties now glaringly obvious. His expression tightened as you slid his shirt over your head, the oversized fabric falling to mid-thigh.

Jungkook unbuttoned his slacks in silence, shoving them off until he stood in just his briefs. He bent down, gathering both of your discarded clothes before disappearing into the bathroom to toss them into the hamper.

You heard the water running as you pulled the band from your hair and padded toward the bathroom, wanting to brush your teeth too. But before you could enter, he stepped out, his tall frame blocking the doorway.

"Get in bed," he said sternly, leaving no room for argument.

You pouted but turned around, dragging your feet toward the bed. From the way he flicked off the light behind you, it was clear you weren’t getting dicked down tonight. Jungkook always kept the lights on when he was fucking you—he liked to see everything properly. You frowned as you crawled under the covers.

"My love," you started softly, watching his back as he climbed into bed, turning to face the window. He didn’t respond. "Baby, please—"

"I’m so fucking angry," he finally spoke, his voice low, thick with frustration. Your hand raked over the tattoos covering his tense arm as you scooted closer, your fingertips tracing the ink in the way you always did to calm him down.

"Turn around and go to sleep," he grumbled, laced with warning.

"Can’t sleep when you’re mad at me. You know that," you whined softly, shuffling closer until you were pressed against his back, your leg draping over his waist, pulling yourself into his space.

He tensed under your touch but didn’t push you away.

You nuzzled into him, your cheek resting on his shoulder, hand tracing gentle patterns along his side. "Talk to me, baby," you whispered, your voice soft, pleading. "Please."

"You knew it would piss me off. I don’t know why you’re surprised—"

"Yeah, but I thought it would be like sexy, possessive, fuck me into the mattress mad…" Your words were muffled as your lips brushed against the warmth of his back, speaking directly into his skin. “I didn’t expect you to ask me to move in with you, baby—”

"So, if I didn’t," he interrupted, tugging the blanket over his shoulder, brushing you off in the process. "You wouldn’t be sorry at all?"

You frowned, pulling the blanket back down and reclaiming your spot, pressing yourself against him again.

“Not really,” you admitted, lips finding the little heart tattoo on his shoulder blade that he’d let you needle into him. You pressed a gentle kiss to it, your voice softening into a playful coo. “Was really mad at you. But then you were all stupidly cute and you bought us a fucking houseee, baby.”

Your fingers curled around his bare side, your kisses turning into quick, playful pecks across the tattoo. "And now I am very..." You pressed another kiss to his skin, “sorry.” Kiss. “My love.” Kiss.

He shifted slightly, his body tense but responsive to your touch. You knew you were getting to him, your lips soft against his inked skin, your tone low and slow. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop you, not entirely immune to the way your kisses trailed over his back, or the way your fingers skimmed down his side.

“You think you can just kiss me and make it better?” His voice was still low, but there was something softer creeping into it, the edges of his anger starting to blur under your touch.

You gazed affectionately at your softie's back, a smile playing on your lips as you rubbed your nose over the tattoo. “Maybe,” you hummed. “But I can do a little more than kiss you, if that's not enough…” you whispered, your hand trailing lower, brushing just above the waistband of his briefs.

He let out a small, frustrated sigh, but his body betrayed him—muscles relaxing slightly under your touch.

“Brat,” he muttered under his breath, shifting his position to lie on his back, allowing the blanket to slide down his body and reveal his broad, toned chest.

A soft, approving grunt left your lips as you shamelessly drank in the view, your eyes lingering on your favorite tattoo, scribbled prettily across his chest.

You’ve always been vocal about your love for Jungkook’s tattoos—they’re one of your favorite things about him. Some hold more meaning than others, but they're all breathtakingly beautiful. Honestly, with the number of times your nails have raked down his skin while he takes you like an untamed force, you’d think the ink would’ve rubbed off by now.

But your favorite? The tattoo nestled right below his left, perfectly pink nipple.

Your name.

You’ve never been one for tattoos on yourself, and you know people have all sorts of opinions about getting your partner’s name etched into your skin—a curse, they say. But when Jungkook told you, not asked, told you that he was going to get your name tattooed on him, you'd never dropped to your knees so fast in your life.

You were both lounging lazily on his couch, enjoying one of those rare days off, when he told you the news. The next twelve hours were spent on his lap, with the couch left in a state that required professional cleaning. Jungkook was very upset when you had it cleaned while he was at work, but you made it up to him.

By telling him you wanted one too.

You could already picture your sweet Christian mother rolling in her grave at the thought of you getting a tattoo, let alone your boyfriend’s name—the same boyfriend who’s done things to you no amount of repentance could ever erase. But it’s okay. You planned to get it in a place she wouldn’t see, wherever she’s watching from.

When you told Jungkook about your plan to get matching ink, it led to the second most tender and passionate sex you’d ever had—the first being the day you both said “I love you” for the first time. He's a sap like that.

You were supposed to get "Jungkook" etched onto your inner thigh, but the moment the needle touched your skin, you knew there was no way in hell you were sitting through all eight letters. So, you settled for "JK." Still adorable, and you loved it. So did he.

He’s obsessed with it, sometimes spending hours suckling on the ink. He’ll fall asleep with his head in your lap, the tattooed skin nestled in his mouth like a pacifier. His hand gravitates there when you're out to dinner with friends, resting directly on the spot if you're wearing a skirt, over your jeans if you're not.

Jungkook, of course, got your entire first name and let you pick where it would go. He only had one condition: it had to be on the front of his body—somewhere on his chest or maybe his thigh. When you asked why, he simply said he wasn’t getting any other tattoos there. That space was only for you.

You immediately picked the spot under your favorite nipple of his, and rode him into the sunset right after.

Angel isn’t a word most people—well, any people—would use to describe Jeon Jungkook. But for you, it’s that simple.

He’s your angel. Your short-tempered, jealous, possessive, fiery-fisted angel. For forever and then some.

Despite your boyfriend's irritated expression, you could sense the familiar heat building up in him, causing his eyes to darken and his teeth to tug on his lip rings unconsciously. You felt yourself clench around nothing at the sight.

God, you were down so bad.

A sly grin tugged at your lips as you shifted, sliding your leg over his waist to straddle him, your bare heat pressing flush against the hard bulge straining beneath his briefs. A soft, satisfied hum escaped your throat as you leaned down, letting your lips graze along the sharp line of his jaw.

“Thought you liked your bitches bratty,” you murmured, the words brushing against his lip rings. You kissed your way slowly, deliberately down his neck. “Heard Heejin can get real mouthy.”

“Hm, she’s not usually that bad around me,” he said, his tone casual, almost playful. His tattooed fingers slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lazily along your sides. “Then again, her mouth is usually otherwise occupied.”

Your lips froze mid-kiss against his neck, the heat in the room shifting as a bubbling wave of jealousy swirled low in your stomach. You knew he was only matching your teasing with his own, but it didn’t stop the image from forming—Heejin, beneath you, as you straddled her in this exact position. Only this time, you weren’t smirking. This time, your hands gripped a pillow, pressing it down firmly until her frantic kicks finally stilled.

You recovered quickly, trailing your kisses lower down his chest. “Yeah?” you bit, voice tight as you continued kissing along his skin. “She suck your cock just the way you like it, baby?”

Jungkook swallowed a shiver as you slid down his body, your mouth hovering over his chest. The tension between you thickened as your teeth grazed his nipple, your tongue darting out just enough to tease.

“Yeah,” he answered, voice strained as he felt your hot breath fan over him. “She’s real sloppy with it. Bit surprising, considering she acts like a fucking church girl in the office—”

You waited until his nipple hardened from the sensation of your breath before biting down, hard, sinking your teeth into the sensitive skin.

His reaction was instant—a sharp hiss slipping through his clenched teeth as his fingers dug into your sides on instinct, gripping you hard enough to leave marks.

His hips jerked up against you, the friction sending a spark through your core as he tried to suppress the groan building in his throat at your obvious stake to claim. His restraint was fading, and you couldn't fucking wait.

You followed up with a soft lick, soothing the now-red nub before lowering your mouth to press a wet, possessive kiss over your tattoo on his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumbled insincerely, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with him.

Jungkook’s gaze was fiery, narrowed as he looked up at you, but you could see the way his breath quickened, his stomach contracting deliciously beneath your bare heat that he was affected.

The grip on your hips tightened, pulling you down harder as he let out a low warning. "Careful, baby."

You smiled small, dragging your nails lightly over his abdomen as you trailed back up his body. “Sorry, baby. Hyungwon used to love it when I did that—"

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before Jungkook was flipping you onto your back, his hands gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. The look in his eyes was dark, jaw clenched tight as he loomed over you.

If there was one thing that drove Jungkook over the edge, it was when you mentioned your ex.

"Think you're so funny, hm?" His voice dropped low, a dangerous edge creeping in as his grip on your wrists tightened slightly, his gaze darkening as it scanned your face. You could feel the shift—he was serious now.

You pouted up at him, a small smile still playing on your lips. “Just being honest, love. Hyungwon’s left nipple was really sensitive—”

A deep scoff reverberated from Jungkook’s chest, his fingers tightening their hold just enough to send a shiver down your spine. He leaned down, his nose brushing yours as his jaw clenched.

"If you ever comp—" he stopped abruptly, his breath unsteady, voice shaking with barely-contained rage at being compared to the guy he’d nearly put into a coma the last time he laid eyes on him. His jaw clenched, tongue sliding over the inside of his cheek as he glared down at you. "Say his name again, Y/N. I fucking dare you."

You don't know why you did it.

Maybe you lacked survival instincts. Or maybe it was because you were wetter than the fucking Atlantic.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Hyungw—"

You barely got through the first syllable before you were flipped onto your stomach, your cheek pressed into the mattress, the sudden force of the movement knocking the air from your lungs.

A grunt escaped your lips, your head tilting just enough to catch your breath. You could barely contain the smile threatening to spread across your face, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as a thrill of excitement raced through your veins.

Fucking finally.

Jungkook’s weight vanished from the bed, and though every nerve in your body screamed at you to move, you knew better. You had been here before, too many times to count. Sitting up to look at him would earn you more than just punishment—it would leave you edged and begging for release until you were a writhing, pathetic mess. Normally, you’d relish every second of that torture, but right now you were too fucking soaked and too fucking needy to drag this out any longer. You haven't had his cock inside you since before he left your place for work this morning.

And that was like… seventeen fucking hours ago!

Your body thrummed with anticipation, the ache between your thighs pulsing as you stayed perfectly still, hands flat at your sides. You nuzzled deeper into the pillow with a pleased hum, toes wiggling in eager impatience.

Then came the sound you were waiting for.

He was back behind you, the loud click of the belt buckle confirming it. "'M getting too soft on you, baby." His voice was low, dark.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you felt the cold brush of the belt against your bare thighs, the sensation jolting straight to your core.

You bit down harder on your lip, resisting the urge to respond. You knew that would only make it worse. And better.

"Let you ignore my texts," he hummed, the belt dragging slowly up the curve of your legs, making you squirm involuntarily under his touch.

"Let you walk around with no fucking panties," he growled, his hands pulling up the hem of his shirt so your body was fully exposed to him. You immediately gripped the fabric, holding it tight so it stayed in place, eager to feel the weight of his eyes on your bare skin.

"Bought you a fucking house."

He rested the belt on your waist, a promise of what was to come, then his fingers trailed lower, sliding exactly where you wanted them. He gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks just enough to let you feel the warm brush of his fingers against your slick heat.

"This what you wanted, baby?" His voice was a low, mocking drawl, dripping with condescension. "You want me to fuck you like the needy little slut you are?"

A helpless whimper escaped your lips, your thighs parting instinctively at his words, betraying the desperation that throbbed through every inch of your body.

It was fucked, really—how easily he could lead you into this hazy, trance-like state with just a few words. In everyday life, you were lippy, hot-headed, the kind of person who would never let anyone walk all over you without a fight.

But with Jungkook? When he controlled you, when he degraded you, it never left you feeling small, not like other inferior men from your past who only managed to make you feel amused or bored.

With Jungkook, it was different. The way he commanded you, as twisted as it was, it made you feel seen. Wanted. Like you were exactly where you needed to be—in his hands, under his control. All you desired was to surrender completely, to let him take and take until there was nothing left.

Maybe you were biased, considering you loved the man currently smirking wickedly above you with every fiber of your being, but who cared? He owned you, and god, did you love every second of it.

Jungkook hummed, his fingers sliding through your wetness, gathering it slowly. You could hear the smirk in his voice. "So wet just from running that fucking mouth of yours, huh?"

Your breath hitched, every nerve firing as he lifted a hand to press lightly on the buckle resting on your back, the pressure sending a delicious ache radiating through you. You could already imagine the sting it would leave, the thought alone making you drip.

Then, his hand trailed back down your side, leaving the belt untouched and useless on your back. You bit back a disappointed grunt.

"All leaky and achy just from imagining Heejin-ah with my cock in her mouth, baby?" His taunt was biting, and you couldn’t stop the irritated noise that bubbled from your throat. He deliberately added the friendly honorific to get a rise out of you. And it worked.

"Oh?" Jungkook's laughter was filled with malice as he lightly traced his thumb over your folds for the briefest of seconds, not enough to satisfy, not even close.

"You don’t like it when I talk about other girls having me like you have me, huh? Not so fun is it, baby?"

His thumb brushed against your clit, fleeting, fast, gone before you could even register the sensation. Your hips bucked, chasing after the contact you craved, but he was already pulling away.

"Funny that," he mused before his tone turned menacingly low. "Because you sure as hell like talking about that boring fucking cuck a bit too much for my liking."

With the last remnants of your composure, you opened your mouth, ready to fire back one last bratty comment. Maybe the lord was on your side, though, because before you could get a word out, Jungkook cut you off.

"Color."

The retort died on your tongue, and before you even processed it, the response was out.

"Bright fucking green."

Jungkook’s mouth came down hot and harsh, his evil tongue licking a fat stripe right down your soaking slit. He took one of your ass cheeks in each hand, parting them effortlessly. You felt more than heard the deep inhale and exhale over your cunt as he dipped his nose into it like a dog would do to their water bowl on a hot fucking day.

Your breathing turned erratic, and your hands curled into fists to stop yourself from grabbing his head and forcing him deeper into your pussy. The way his tongue moved so deliberately, so lazily, only heightened the tension coiling tight in your core. When he had his fill of dragging his nose up and down your slit, his mouth latched onto your clit, slurping it up like it was his last fucking meal.

Your back arched, a strangled moan ripping from your lips as your fingers clawed at your sheets, trying to clutch onto any last thread of sanity. The grip on your ass tightened, keeping you wide open as he went at you with a brutal pace. Your thighs trembled around his head, your hole fluttering at the pleasure he was delivering to your clit. He was relentless, taking out all his anger and frustration on your poor little pussy.

Your cunt couldn’t keep up with him. It was dripping, soaking your boyfriend's face faster than he could lap it up, coating his chin and dripping down to the sheets beneath you. He groaned into your pussy, a low, dirty sound that vibrated right through your core.

"Ah! Fuck baby," you sobbed, burying your face further into the mattress. "Ngh-fuckkk!"

He didn't stop, tongue noisily sucking and flicking at your clit. Then his hand lifted and came down hard on your right ass cheek, the sharp slap sending a jolt straight through you. It ripped a moan from your throat and you forced yourself not to ask for another one.

"Not my name right now," he pulled back enough to scoff.

Before you could respond, Jungkook’s hands were already on you, shifting your body until you were holding yourself up on your hands and knees, your weight settled into doggy position.

He let out a low hum in approval before wasting no time and burying his mouth back into your heat, tongue sliding up and down viciously through your sopping folds.

“Ah-uhhh! Yes, daddy, oh my godddd,” you cried out, your eyes rolling back, hips bucking as his nose pressed deeper into your pussy.

He moaned into you, the vibration rippling through you as his tongue trailed slowly toward the entrance of your weepy hole.

Your evil fucking boyfriend hovered there for a moment, pretending to tease the tight muscle before his lips gave a big, harsh suck. The sound echoed in your ears as he slurped up as much of your slick as he could, coating his tongue before shoving it right into your clenching hole.

“Ah!” Your scream tore raw from your throat, your nails digging sorely into the mattress. His free hand slid up your body, four fingers pressing into the top of your ass cheeks, gripping you with possessive strength, while his thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing it in big, messy circles.

"Daddy -ah! Oh my fuckkk yes, eat your fucking pussy daddy, goddd."

Jungkook groaned lowly into you, eyes fluttering closed as he relished in the taste of the sweetest pussy he's ever had and will ever have in his life. He was manic as he drank from it, slurped at it, rubbed it all over his dirty fucking face. The wet sounds of his tongue pistoning into your hole, his finger sliding over your soppy clit, your fucked-out whimpers while you screamed for your Daddy.

Music to his fucking ears.

Your legs shook, elbows digging into the mattress as you forced yourself to keep form. If it weren't for your boyfriend's firm hand pressed against your stomach, holding you up, you both know you'd be face down on the mattress again.

Jungkook felt the tension in your belly beneath his palm and he knew you were getting close. He let you writhe for a few more seconds before slowing his movements, slipping his tongue from your hole and pressing a kiss to the pretty, puffed outer lips. He gave a wet suckle to your pebbled clit on his way out and finally pulled back with a loud smacking sound.

As much as the whiny cry you let out when he pulled away made his already aching cock throb harder in his briefs, he needed both hands for what he was about to do to you. And you knew it.

His bunny teeth poked out to graze against your inner left thigh, pussy-coated lips puckering to press a soft kiss over the ink that bore his name. Then, his hand pulled back and landed a quick smack on your right thigh, the light sting spreading instantly across your skin.

You understood immediately, a strained groan slipping from your lips as you rolled onto your back, head sinking into the pillow.

The belt buckle had been digging into your skin, so you quickly pulled it from beneath you, tossing it beside you on the bed. Your feet pressed into the mattress, knees bending as your legs spread open once more, leaving your glistening pussy on full display—just the way he taught you.

"Mm," Jungkook hummed approvingly, his eyes raking over your body with that look of dark satisfaction. His hand drifted to his cock, now uncomfortably hard, and gave it a rough palm through the fabric.

When his gaze paused at your chest, where his shirt had slipped back down to cover your breasts, you knew what to do. 

But you didn't want to take it off… it was your favorite.

Instead, you tugged the fabric higher, pulling it up over your tits, shuddering as the material grazed over your sensitive nipples. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you bit down lightly on the hem, holding it in place between your teeth.

Jungkook let out a low, dirty groan, his fingers trailing up your thighs, giving the soft flesh a possessive squeeze. "Good girl, baby."

"Thank you, daddy," you keened at the praise, though your response came out muffled with the shirt wedged between your teeth.

You gave a little impatient wiggle of your hips, feeling the mixture of slick and saliva begin to drip out of your pussy the longer it was left unattended.

Jungkook's eyes hooded at the sight, watching as a glob of his spit dripped down from your pussy and disappeared right between your crack. He swallowed hard, hands itching to spread the fat cheeks and watch the liquid pool around your tight, puckered hole. He'd grab your phone and make you bring up Park Hyungwon's contact, force you to Facetime the pathetic fuck, and make him watch as he let more of his spit trail from his mouth right over your greedy ass. Then he'd use his big tongue to shove it deeper and deeper into your winking little hole .

Of course, the Hyungwon part was purely theoretical because you no longer had his number or any contact with that cunt anymore. Jungkook saw to that three days into your relationship. But the other parts—

"Daddy?"

His gaze slowly drifted up to your pretty face when your muffled voice broke him from his thoughts. "Yes, my baby?"

"Wha's da bel' for?" you mumbled, your speech slurred by the fabric of his shirt still caught between your teeth.

Jungkook’s tongue swiped over his bottom lip, eyes darkening at the sight of you struggling to speak, and he wasn’t surprised when his cock twitched in response, pressing harder against his stomach.

He glanced at the belt lying next to you. “Was gonna punish you, angel,” he admitted softly.

His hand trailed down, freeing his throbbing shaft from its restraints and kicking the briefs aside. The (non-sexual related) clean freak in him made a mental note to tidy up later.

Climbing onto the bed, he settled between your legs, his weight pressing down on you as his chest melded into your soft, warm skin. A quiet, content sigh slipped from his lips as he let himself sink into you.

“But 'm still very sorry about earlier,” he murmured, his words a gentle apology as his hand brushed along your side, his nose nuzzling against your boob. “And I wanna be a little gentler with you tonight. Is that okay?”

A warmth swirled in your stomach, sending soft flutters through your body. Your hand lifted to thread through his silky, messy hair, your nails grazing his scalp just the way he loved.

“Of cour-kkhm,” His eyes flicked up to meet yours from where his head rested on your chest, and with a bunny smile, his fingers carefully tugged his shirt from your mouth, freeing your lips so you could speak more clearly.

Leaning down, you pressed a gentle kiss to his tattooed fingers, feeling his warmth seep into your skin. “You can have me any way you want, baby,” you whispered softly, your words full of affection. “You know that.”

“Never getting rid of me, you know that, right?” he murmured against the soft skin of your sideboob, his lips puckering to suck a delicate mark into the flesh.

“Would never try,” you sighed, your hand trailing down to rest on his warm, solid back as he licked tenderly over the mark he’d left. “Would fucking castrate you if you even tried to leave me.”

A low, deep laugh rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he shifted up, his naked form pressing closer until his mouth found its place in the crook of your neck. He mumbled softly, a smirk tugging at his lips, “Would let you.”

You giggled, your head tilting to meet your other half. “Slut,” you mumbled sweetly before connecting your mouth with his. Your lips moved together in perfect sync, tongues lazily lapping against each other, unrushed and full of love.

The taste of you in his mouth had you clenching around nothing as the memory of his filthy tongue buried between your thighs minutes ago resurfaced. Your hips rocked up lightly, exhaling through your nose when the tip of his cock just barely brushed against your sticky clit, the sound loud in contrast to the soft click of your tongues.

Jungkook was no less affected, groaning into your mouth as his fingers tightened around the sides of your waist. His hips shifted down so the full length of his shaft could slip between your slick folds, and he reveled in the loud, squishy noise of your heat enveloping him as he slid back and forth.

“Mmmmhh,” you broke away from his mouth with a sigh of relief, your head lolling back as your body ignited at the feeling of his cock finally returning home. He didn’t make a move to push inside just yet, continuing his deep thrusts, coating his length and balls in your slick as he rutted back and forth. "Shit, baby."

Jungkook’s groan was strained as his hand trailed from your side, slipping between the two of you without moving his head. He reluctantly pulled his cock from your slick folds before two of his fingers were there to replace it, sinking into your heat without hesitation.

"F-fuck," you choked, your chest heaving at the sudden stretch, your body reacting instantly to the familiar intrusion. It was the first time something stiff had been inside you all night, and the relief was overwhelming.

Jungkook groaned low in your ear, letting you adjust for a second before his hunger took over. He pushed his fingers in deeper into your hole, sinking them in fully until his palm slapped loudly against your clit. Then he pulled them out and drove them back in, harder.

"Oh god, b-baby, shitttt." Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, jaw slacking when his long fingers easily reached that spongey part deep inside of you.

He nuzzled into your neck, his lips brushing the hot skin there as his fingers continued their relentless pace, a soft groan escaping his throat. The way your walls squeezed tightly around his fingers like you didn't want him to pull out, the loud sqsch-sqsch-sqsch of your pussy echoing in his ears as he thrusted his hand in and out of your dirty little hole.

God, he was going to cum untouched like a fucking teenager.

“Need to put it in, please, baby,” he begged softly, voice strained with need, his breath hot against your neck. “Need you."

Your hand cupped his face, fingers brushing lightly over his jawline as your eyes fluttered shut. “Take it,” you mewled, breath catching as his fingers slowed. His hips shifted back over you, his heavy balls pressed snugly against your clit. “Take it all, baby. It’s yours.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, his wet hand wrapping around his throbbing cock. He exhaled into your neck before slipping back into your folds and you choked out a loud sigh of relief as he finally began to fill you up.

“Shittttt,” he slurred against your neck, his forehead pressing into your jaw as he sank all the way in until his hips were flush with yours. “God, baby... so fucking good.”

His body stayed pressed against yours, his chest melting into your own, every inch of his skin needing to feel yours. His lips ghosted over your collarbone, up your neck, and to your jawline, pressing gentle kisses as he moved inside you with deep, unhurried thrusts.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, your hands sliding up his back, pulling him impossibly closer. You buried your face into his neck, the scent of Bvlgari and tobacco making your head spin. It was so good. So fucking him.

The warmth of his heavy body on top of you made you feel so safe, so completely his. It fueled the burning ache in your stomach, the pressure in your core building with each deep stroke.

Your brows furrowed, overwhelmed, and your eyes pooled with tears, both from pleasure and emotion. "God, I love you so much, Jungkook. You make me feel so safe a-and loved," you choked out, voice trembling.

Jungkook’s hips stilled slightly, but you felt the way his cock twitched inside you at your words. He pulled his head back, looking down at your tear-streaked face, eyes softening.

"My baby," he mumbled softly, his clean(er) hand lifting to brush away your tears before leaning down to press soft kisses over your flushed skin.

"As long as I’m alive, nothing and nobody will ever hurt a hair on your pretty little head, Y/N." He kissed over the fresh tears, licking the salty liquid off his lips before placing a soft kiss onto your pouty lips. "Besides me, of course, when you ask me to."

A watery chuckle escaped your lips as he added, "I love you more than I love myself, baby. You're my world. I would kill for you," another kiss to the corner of your mouth before he cheekily added, "almost have."

You giggled, shaking your head and leaning up to press a grateful kiss against his lips. You followed it with another, longer one, brushing softly over the cool metal of his lip rings. "Can't wait to live with you, baby."

"Mmm," he groaned in satisfaction, his hips instinctively picking up their slow, deep rhythm at your words. "Yeah? Can’t wait to be trapped in my house, nowhere to run when you’re being a little brat?"

You laughed, breathy from the way he was rolling his hips into you. "Like I get far as it is? You just follow me like a dirty stalker."

His smile turned dark and playful as his thrusts became a little sharper. "Uh-huh, and you think that would stop when we sign some stupid joint tenancy papers?"

You couldn't help the way you clenched around him at that, big eyes blinking up at him in shock. "You're letting me sign the papers with you?"

Jungkook's brows furrowed as if confused. "Baby, it's our house; why wouldn’t you?"

A grunt rumbled from your throat as you pulled him down, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Jungkook groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips tightly, his thrusts growing rougher in response to the bite.

The sounds that echoed around your bedroom were wet, needy, the slick squelching with every push and pull as he kept his pace, deep and steady. Your breaths mingled, his lips hovering over yours as he rocked into you.

Jungkook groaned lowly, his hips pressing harder, more urgent. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” he rasped, his lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw, up to your ear. “Give it to me every day, and it's still so wet and tight for me, fucking hellll.”

You keened at his praise, biting your lip harshly as his pace quickened. Your legs wrapped tighter around his waist, thighs squeezing as you pulled him deeper inside you until you were so close you were getting shoved into the headboard with each thrust.

“Ah, bab-uh! Right theree,” you whined, back arching as he hit that spot with precision, his thick head shoving against your g-spot like it was second nature. He knew your body inside out, and still, every time felt like a new fucking discovery.

Jungkook grunted lowly, his lips hovering by your ear as he thrust deeper, harder. “Right there, baby? That’s my spot, isn’t it? Feels so good when I fuck into it like that, huh?”

Your nails dug into his back as you whimpered, completely at his mercy. The slamming of the headboard against the wall was so loud but you couldn't care less. “Yes, yes, fuck, baby, that's yooourr fucking spot, uuh! Fucking take it, baby, godd!"

Jungkook groaned, his hips snapping faster, rougher, each thrust more desperate as he pounded into you. “I will,” he promised, possessiveness dripping from every word. “And you’re gonna give it to me, right, baby? Gonna beg me for it?”

“Please, baby, take it,” you cried out, your legs tightening around his waist. “Take it all, it’s yours. Just fucking take it.”

His hand gripped your hip hard, anchoring you in place as he slammed into you over and over again. He shifted you down a little so your head wasn't slamming into the headboard and his free hand slid down to rub over your slippery clit.

"Whose is it, huh? Who does this dirty fucking pussy belong to? Tell me.”

“You,” you sobbed, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building in your core so quickly you could barely think. “It’s yours, baby. All y-yours.”

“Say my fucking name when you come,” he demanded, “and you’re gonna take everything I give you, right, baby? Greedy little pussy’s gonna suck up every drop of my fucking load. And you’re gonna hold it in there until I’m ready to turn you into a mama.”

You came so fucking hard.

It hit you all at once—your release crashing through you, your body shaking violently as a broken scream ripped from your throat, nails digging so deep into his skin you knew you’d leave marks.

“Jung—” your breath hitched in a sob “Jungkooookkkk!”

Your body arched into him, every wave of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you limp and trembling beneath him as he kept pounding into you, chasing his own release. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass echoed in your ears, barely drowning out the breathless thank yous tumbling from your lips.

“Good fucking girl,” he praised, his voice strained as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing as he used you as a fleshlight.

“Gonna be the best daddy,” you cried, legs shaking as you let him abuse your whimpering cunt. “Can’t wait to have your fucking babies. Give you, uh, g-give you as many as you want daddy.”

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, head thrown back in bliss. “Yeah? Gonna keep popping out babies for daddy until he says you’re done? Gonna let me fuck you so full until it sticks... 'til your belly’s so big you can barely fucking walk, baby?”

You could hear the slick, wet sloshing noise every time he pulled out and slammed back into your pussy, and you swore it was the prettiest sound you’d ever heard.

“Yesss, daddyyy,” you cried out, voice high and desperate. “Please make me a mommy. P-please.”

“Nghhh, fuck!”

With one final deep thrust, he spilled into you, hot and thick, his body trembling as he filled you completely. Your name fell from his lips again as your greedy walls fluttered and clenched around him, eager to milk every last drop of cum from his cock.

But he didn’t stop.

Jungkook’s hips kept rolling into yours, adjusting for a moment at the sensitivity before he sped up, dragging his softening cock against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb was cruel, chasing your swollen clit even as it tried to hide from him.

It was too much, too intense, but you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted—back arching, nails back digging back into his big shoulders, a broken wail spilling from your lips.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, head falling back as the overstimulation consumed you. “I c-can'tttt—”

“Another one," Jungkook growled, his lips brushing over your jaw, kissing you through every ragged breath. “C'mon, my love, you can do it. One more. One more, then you're done, baby.”

And just like that, it hit you—your second orgasm crashing through your body, leaving your toes curling and vision blurring. You cried out his name, your entire body shaking beneath him as he kept grinding, coaxing you through every wave of pleasure until you were trembling, thighs quivering around his waist.

“God, fuck!” you sobbed, clinging to him as the last of your release pulsed through you, squeezing his soft cock tight as he groaned into your neck. You were limp, shaking, but he stayed right there.

You both knew the chance of actually getting pregnant was very slim, thanks to the IUD in your arm, and you weren’t ready for that. You think.

But the breeding talk always turned you both the fuck on, and that 0.9% chance set something dangerous ablaze inside you. The risk, however small, just made it so much hotter.

You let out a content sigh as you crashed back to earth, shaky arms looping around his neck, pulling him down, craving the weight of his body on yours. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, still buried inside you

“Did so good, my baby. Always so good for me,” he cooed, his voice low and soft, as his nose nuzzled gently against your skin, brushing over your collarbone.

A breathy giggle escaped your lips as your fingers threaded through his slightly damp hair. “Thought you said you wanted to be gentle tonight.”

Jungkook hummed lazily against your neck, his lips trailing over your skin with a soft chuckle. “That was gentle,” he murmured, sinking deeper into your warm skin.

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “You’re not wrong,” you replied, your chest still heaving slightly as your hand slid soothingly up and down his back. You felt him smile against your neck, his arms tightening around you, his cock still nestled deep, clearly in no rush to pull out anytime soon.

For a moment, it was peaceful—the sound of your mingled breaths the only noise in the room. Then, Jungkook lifted his head slightly, glancing at the soft glow of your Mac screen. His eyes caught the time, and he let out an annoyed groan, burying his face deeper into your skin.

“Hm? What’s wrong?” you asked, your fingers still threading through his hair as you glanced toward the screen yourself. Your heart dropped when you saw the time.

“You’ve got to be up in, like, three hours,” you mumbled, running your hand down his back, your feet sliding up and down the back of his thighs in an attempt to soothe him.

Jungkook’s body tensed slightly at the reminder, his lips still pressed to your neck. You could feel the irritation in his silence, and your heart sank at the thought of him leaving before you even woke up.

“I’ll make your lunch before I come into work at eight, baby,” you offered softly, your voice gentle as you tried to ease his frustration. “I can bring it up to y—”

“I’m not going,” he interrupted, his voice firm but soft against your skin.

Your heart stilled at his words, and you pulled back slightly, trying to see his face. “What do you mean, you’re not going?”

“I’m not going in tomorrow,” he repeated, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “And you’re not either. We’re staying right here until we both get some real sleep.”

You blinked in surprise. “But—”

“And then,” he cut you off again, his lips brushing yours as he spoke, “we’re gonna wake up, pack your shit, and move into our house.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation.

Jungkook nodded, his lips curving into a soft smile as he leaned down to kiss you pouty lips, his hands brushing back your hair. “Told you, you can’t run from me anymore, baby.”

You grinned against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeply, your heart swelling with love.

“I love you so much, my dirty stalker,” you cooed against his mouth, your fingers drifting to trace over your name inked across his chest.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkled as his lips pressed softly against yours again, his body relaxing as he breathed you in. “I love you more, my crazy girl."

END.

WOW what a ride!! let me know what you think?? love you 🖤

[running-with-kn1ves]

Satin Pillows To Cry On

CW: coercion with money, age gap(7 yrs), transactional marriage, obsessive/yandere behavior

gn! reader

﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀﹀

You’ve got nothing else, no one else to rely on. 

‘You’re something he bought to keep from growing old.” 

Your clothes are worth small countries. Your cars stacked in 3-level garages. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls hanging from your wrists and ears, satchels made of endangered animal skins, different shoes for each day of the year. 

Your boyfriend of three years spat at your feet when you told him what you were doing. 

“His money can’t love you, not like I can.”

The wedding was only two months away when you broke up with him, told him you couldn’t live in his broke-down apartment anymore, that you couldn’t live with debt trailing wherever you went. You went so far as to make him hate you, to tell him that you never wanted to see him again, that you never loved him, that he better not bother showing up to the wedding. You didn’t want him there, you never wanted to see him again. 

“You’re lying to me; he’s making you say these things, he’s using you against me! You’ve known him what-- two seconds, and you’re going to marry this man?! He’s nearly a decade older than you!” 

Seven years of an age gap or not, he was still a thousand times more independent, wealthy, and a safer choice than your boyfriend. You weren’t some fresh college student new to the world, you had graduated over two years ago, still finding no luck in getting a stable income-- forget about whether or not it was in the field of your degree. 

You left in a single day, fitting all of your scavanged belongings into one of your fiance’s awaiting cars. You left anything worth of value with your ex-boyfriend, knowing he’d find more use out of it than you would. You would even leave the rest of your things there if he could find use for them, but you knew they’d just be one more painful reminder of your betrayal. 

He did as you said, not showing up to your wedding, staying clear, never appearing in your line of sight since the day you left. It made it easier…. For both of you that way. 

And now you were happy-- well, maybe not happy, maybe not even content, but you were… safe. You had everything you needed: a working car, a stable job that you felt productive in, a clean and comforting house to come home to, a spouse. Sure, maybe you didn’t get your new job yourself, or your house or your car-- but did that really matter, in this economy? Who wouldn’t trade their life and their independence for this kind of wealth?

And your husband… he wasn’t all bad. He might have only wanted you for the sake of having you at first, like a new jewel or the latest technological invention. But he was doting and caring in his own way. Maybe just a tiny bit too invested in you, in your schedule and who you talked to. A little too hateful towards your ex-boyfriend, the one who had you before he could. But everyone had character flaws, and on good days you could distract him from his grumpy mood and stress and obsessive behaviors by being the loving and oh so perfect spouse you had trained yourself to be ever since he asked to marry you. 

“Colder than all that gold…” You repeated in your mind, the words your family whispered to each other at your wedding reception only a few feet away from you. 

That was over six months now, though… the honeymoon phase never existed, you rarely saw your husband except for his midnight appearances back from the office, and whenever he would whisk you away for a weekend vacation to savor the time he had with you. For someone more sophisticated, much wealthier, and dare you say handsomer than the average man-- you were surprised to find he didn’t have a line of divorces behind him. 

No; he said, he had been “waiting for you.” whether  you or he knew it, he understood right from the moment of meeting you that you were the one he’d have for the rest of his life, even if it killed him. That severity… scared you. But in a sick sense, it made you feel relieved. Forever? This could be yours, forever? Your family would never have to struggle again, you would never have to worry where your next meal came from?

“I cleared your schedule until tuesday; we’re going to the isles. A mini vacation, you might call it. Get your things.”

He was cold, that was for sure. But, was he any worse than your ex-boyfriend, especially when he was offering you an expensive experience on top of that?

“All right..” You acquiesced. 

And now, you lied sunken into the bed feeling his loving, hot breath on your navel. Going so sweetly slow, so oddly and uncharacteristingly lingering with his touches as he gazes into your eyes. You didn’t like this; didn’t like that when he was cherishing you, making love to you, holding you so intimately, he was appearing… like a husband should. Where did he get the nerve to ignore you everyday, to have hardly any time for you, only to come back and beg for your love when it was convenient for him? 

But you keep your mouth shut, like you should, if you want to keep eating breakfast in bed, keep wearing silk robes while watching the view of the ocean outside your window.

“So beautiful…you’re like a work of art, the kind no amount of money can buy.” 

That was funny, hilarious even. Enough so to make you cry. 

A familiar face passes by the slightly ajar door to distract you, likely one of the housekeepers leaving for the night. But you swear the man’s figure reminds you of someone from your past, someone you loved and left for good. 

Your husband brings back your attention by placing a gentle kiss to your temple, blindly undoing the clasp of the necklace he bought you.

“I’m so lucky… so lucky to have been the one to catch you, forever. No one could’ve done it, not without what I have.”

He wanted you to kiss and caress back, but sometimes lying still was just enough. It was enough for him to witness you, basking in the glow of everything you wore from him, lying in the Egyptian cotton sheets he paid extra for, your body molded to the diet his personal chefs cooked. 

Even as he pushed a knee between your legs, traveling from your navel to your stomach with open-mouthed sucks and kisses in the rawest form of affection, you couldn’t help but turn your face deep into the pillow. So soft, the soft purple shielding your eyes from his tender gaze.

You might’ve given up love, given up everything familiar and those who you’ve cared for-- but at least you had satin pillows to cry on, and the finest jewelry to wipe your tears with. 

[sunflowerreid]

Request for a Spencer smut where y/n gets handy under the table while out for drinks with the team after getting back from a case

“Please not now”

Timing - S.R

Warnings: Edging, sub!Spencer, Handjob, Public sex (Kind of)

There are many things you could never get tired of, the deliciously jammy doughnuts from the cafe by yours and Spencer’s apartment, the sounds of the birds first thing in the morning as the sunlight creeps through the shades, the smile on Spencer’s face as he rambles on about something he’s passionate about. But the one thing you know you love the most is the way Spencer squirms. Whether it’s down to your hands touching him in a particularly sensitive spot or when you maintain eye contact across the room while licking a lollipop in a completely innocent manner. You absolutely loved making him squirm. Having been denied this simple pleasure for 4 whole days due to sleeping in different rooms while on a case and having to maintain professional you were dying to get your hands on him.

However, there was one problem, well actually there were six problems, all sat around the table separating you both. After solving a challenging case you’d all agreed to celebrate at your normal bar. You absolutely adore your team with all of your heart but with Spencer sat across from you giggling at a joke Garcia had mentioned, the temptation was beginning to override your common senses. No one could blame you, you had your gorgeous man in front of you causing your thighs to press together, underwear ruined once again. You had to do something about it, the throbbing was becoming too much. Suddenly remembering what had happened earlier that day, the way Spencer had deliberately brushed up against you, pressing his crotch subtly against yours while grinning cheekily. That was enough cause for you to grin to yourself, a wicked idea coming to mind.

You smirked at him from across the table, making eye contact with him as you lifted up your leg, heel slowly brushing up his leg. His eyes widened slightly catching on to your plan as your heel got higher and higher teasingly brushing up his thigh towards his crotch, you knew that look ‘Please not now’. He stiffened up slightly, eyes glossing over as his cheeks began to flush. He squeaked quietly, jumping in his seat as your heel made contact with his growing erection. “God Reid are you drunk already” Garcia giggled next to him. “Maybe had one too many” he answered shyly. “Awww pretty boy I always knew you were a light weight” Morgan teased from across the table next to him. “Leave my boy alone, he’s perfect just as he is” you nudged Morgan, knowing the praise would get Spencer worked up. You could feel him throbbing through his trousers, a noticeable stain appearing through the fabric by the leaking tip of him. He was twitching in his seat, desperate for more friction as you continued your torturously slow pace. Everyone was too busy having conversations amongst themselves to notice what was going on, no matter how obvious Spencer was making it. He couldn’t sit still, as a moment of weakness overcame him, placing his hand on your heel to thrust up against you. You knew the look on his face, eyes rolling back slightly into his head, mouth opened slightly, cheeks flushed, eyebrows rising. He was close, a few more thrusts and he would cum in his boxers. You allowed him a few more jumpy thrusts before removing your heel from him. He groaned quietly, staring at you like you’d just ripped his favourite book apart from across the table while you maintained a conversation with Emily. You knew it was mean, cruel even. But he had to be punished for what he’d done before, he knew better.

“Right guys I’ve got to bounce” Morgan announced, blissfully unaware of an edged Spencer a few feet away. “Yeah we need to go to” you agreed, giving Spencer an out as relief washed over his face “Yeah bye guys see you soon” he whispered following you out of the bar door towards your car since you’d only had one drink, planning on driving home afterwards to save you walking back. “God Y/n so horny please, need you so bad” he whimpered approaching you from behind as you reached the car. You turned around running your hands through his curls as your lips met. “In the car baby” you ordered as he immediately rushed over to the passenger seat. He was on you as soon as you got in your side, hands desperately grabbing onto anything he could reach, “Please fuck please Y/n so hard need to cum so bad” he whimpered kissing down your neck. “Alright honey calm down I’ve got you” you reassured him gently. “Trousers off”. He scrambled back to his seat quickly undoing his belt and pulling his trousers down. He was throbbing for you, streaks of precum running down the side of him from his leaking slit. “Please y/n please” he whined thrusting up into the air. You smirked to yourself running your finger up and down his erection, barely touching him. He twitched, a spurt of precum leaking down towards his base as you finally took pity on him, wrapping your hand around his base before pumping up to his tip. “UGH FUCK YES” he moaned loudly, hips humping up towards you as his head rolled back onto the headrest. “God yes please faster, faster” he whined begging for more friction. You quickened you hand, thumb swiping over his tip after every stroke. “M’sorry gonna cum, can’t hold it, cumming ,cumming,I’M CUMMING FUCKKK” he screamed as you finally granted the relief he’d been waiting for. “That’s it honey, that’s it” you whispered, calming him down as he came down from his high, gentle murmurs from him as he buried his head into your neck, slumping over the centre of the car. “I know honey, did so good for me”. It was peaceful, calm, perfect. Well, it was. The little bubble you two were in was immediately burst the moment you made eye contact with a man leaving the bar. Your boss. Aaron Hotchner. The best profiler you have ever known, the man who knows everything. You had no idea how much he’d seen but from the eyebrow raise and slight smirk on his face you knew he knew exactly what was up. God your timing sucks, you’ll both have to work on that.

[innerfare]

Shanks Relationship Headcanons 

Summary: A random collection of Shanks relationship headcanons

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks can’t stand you at first. You get under his skin without even trying. Worse still, you don’t take his bait- you don’t bicker with him, you don’t argue, but you also don’t laugh at his jokes, and it drives him absolutely insane. He’s never met anyone he couldn’t drag down to his level and he doesn’t know what to do about that. 

You also rebuff his advances initially, and he panics because nobody rebuffs his advances. He could bed Akainu if he wanted to, he’s certain of it, so why can’t he bed you? He becomes consumed by his desire to have you, not just in his bed but in his company more generally, eating at his table and sharing a drink and some gossip with him. 

He never shuts up about you, constantly complaining to Beckman, who realizes what is going on almost immediately. Beckman doesn’t bother trying to illuminate Shanks as to the annoying predicament that is love, just laughs to himself.  

Starts writing down and rehearsing his absolute best material before he sees you. When you don’t laugh, he becomes convinced you’re withholding your laughter just to be mean to him. He almost blows a gasket when Lucky Roux tells him, “you know, Captain, maybe your sense of humor just isn’t for everyone.” 

This eventually culminates in him blowing up and kissing you one night. To his utter surprise, you kiss him back. From that point forward, the two of you are going steady, which is uncharted territory for Shanks. 

When he does finally identify your sense of humor, it’s one of his proudest moments. He’s merciless from that point forward, drawing as many laughs from your lips as possible. He'll even resort to tickling you just to hear that musical sound.

To his surprise, you relationship quickly becomes his temple. You’re the person he’s actually serious with, the person with whom he shares his fears and ambitions, with whom he is raw and vulnerable. When he has nightmares, you’ll be the one to comfort him, and when he has doubts, you’ll be the one to reassure him. 

There’s much more to him than meets the eye. He isn’t just a drunken layabout or a prankster, but a complex man with great ambition, and the foundation of your relationship is your ability to unravel these complexities. 

That being said, if he does eventually make you a little less mature, a little more petty, a little more childish, he’ll view it as one of his greatest victories. 

So dramatic. Tells you things like, “I would cease to exist if we were parted,” and, “you fill in the cracks in my soul,” and he means them 100%. Naturally you don’t realize he means them 100% until you find yourself in a life-threatening situation and he drops literally everything to rescue you, apologizing profusely for allowing a hair on your head to be harmed. It’s in that moment you realize the gravity of receiving the affection of an Emperor. 

Brings you flowers, usually a bundle of cheap supermarket flowers with a lot of different colors (he can't actually identify any of the flowers but thought they were pretty). He’s the sort to throw rocks at your window and serenade you with a guitar (he’ll sing but he’s bad at it), but only after you’re in a relationship so it makes you laugh more than it makes you swoon. 

Will order Beckman to reroute the crew’s course so far out of their way it’s comical because he wants you to try a restaurant on an island he visited a decade ago because they served your favorite food in a unique and delicious way; naturally when you get there the restaurant has closed. Shanks makes it up to you with a bowl of ramen, though. 

Got you a massive stuffed strawberry from a carnival (he lost the game but stole the prize anyway when the carnie wasn’t looking, delinquent ass boyfriend), gets very upset if he walks into your room and it’s not on your bed. Now likes to call you strawberry. Other nicknames include red panda or just panda and even my sake cup. Also refers to you in conversation as the crown jewels. 

Tipsy walks down the beach at night, your fingers intertwined, that end with him chasing you through the shallows, catching you in his arms, and spinning you around. He loves a good came of chase, or even hide and seek. Also, strip poker. 

Would never admit it, but he’s often the little spoon. He’ll collapse on top of you after a night of drinking with the boys. Also, he can’t fall asleep without a fistful of something, and since the two of you became an item, that something is usually your hair or shirt (at least to keep it SFW 😉). 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[quirrrky]

—•✦ STUPID CUPID! 

BOKUTO's got it all, but while all his friends have special someone in their lives, all thanks to him, he was left single and alone until that one accidental night ‧˚꒰happy birthday, bokuto!! 🥳꒱༘⋆

3k+ f!reader, accidental marriage, suggestive

Bokuto “The Volleyball Hero” was the center of MSBY Jackals. He got special interviews, merch of his own and even a vlog series for god’s sakes. He seemed like he’s the most fortunate among the members, but little to what the outsiders know, he was the most envious. 

“I hope you both fulfill the love, family and happiness you're dreaming of,” Kenma called for a toast for his newly wed best friend and his wife. 

Everyone around Bokuto was getting married, engaged or partnered up.

Let’s not go anywhere far. Just take Kuroo right there who was so busy sneaking kisses from his bride from time to time.  

Not long ago, he was single as a pringle like Bokuto too. Man had casual to shallow relationships but nothing’s ever going anywhere, until that day Bokuto brought him as a plus-one at a wedding. Kuroo hit it off with another plus-one who’s not even related to the couple. It was love at first sight according to him, and now, he’s the one getting married.  

Bokuto was left single.  

He took a deep breath and saw his kouhai, Akaashi. Since he had been an athlete, he seemed to see his junior less. Excitement brewed inside him only to turn cold right away as he watched one of MSBY’s road managers lace her fingers with Akaashi’s. Yeah, it was all because of Bokuto’s meddling as well.  

Akaashi was an editor of a Volleyball-centric manga and he needed Bokuto’s insights back then and so Bokuto gave one of MSBY’s road managers as contact person to communicate with Akaashi. Now, they were set to get married next year too. 

A long sigh escaped through him. Everywhere he looked, everyone was happily in the arms of another. He slumped his shoulders. What’s so good about romance and relationships anyway? It’s not as if it’s as fun as Volleyball.  

He pouted.  

Bokuto was jealous, seething envious.  

He wanted someone to give him a loooong kiss after winning a match just like Atsumu and his fiance. He imagined someone would call him long-distance whenever he’s away like how his pretty manager would do for Akaashi. He would very much love to look at someone and laugh with her like the world only belongs to the two of them just as how much Kuroo was having the time of his life right now with the love of his life. 

All of them happened because of him yet he was left all by himself.  

Tears triggered to fall from his eyes, but he swallowed every drop of them in. He was genuinely happy for his friends, and he wished, with all his heart, that their relationships would be successful and fulfilling.  

Perhaps, he’s lucky in Volleyball but totally sucks in love. This is life. You can't have it all. So he won’t. That simple.  

All night long, Bokuto partied like an animal he never was. He drank all the hard liquor together with the bitter truth that he’s the fun single uncle his nephews and nieces would love to play with.  

“Bokuto-san, you've had enough! That’s- that’s too much!” He heard Akaashi called out to him, but he didn’t care.  

Curse all the gods! All this time he was playing cupid to all his friends and now he’s the one without anyone.  

“F@#k you!” He shouted to the heavens. Big F to that dumbass Cupid! He had been doing that loser’s job all along yet he ain’t having any reward. Asshole better train. He’d been missing his arrows when it came to him. “Aaarghh! Fu-” 

Bokuto clasped on his chest. A strong sting came right through and, all of a sudden, he bumped onto someone. He looked back and a shroud of white flooded his vision.  

Is he dead? 

But how can he hear birds chirping?  

Are there birds in heaven?  

Well, there can’t be any in hell so he’s lucky he’s in heaven.  

Bokuto opened his eyes as he slowly brought himself to sit upright. He rubbed the sleep off and took in his surroundings. Fancy room. He thought. Was this his apartment in heaven? 

He glanced at his side, and he marveled at the ethereal being he saw. Must be an angel. A smile appeared across his face. He’s so lucky to wake up next to an angel, indeed. Itching, he poked a finger on her cheek.  

Her eyes gradually opened, and he sure heard a chorus sang in his ears by how beautiful she was. She got up, wearing a large white tee, which looked immaculate on her by the way. She didn’t need wings to fly. She had already taken flight in Bokuto’s head.  

Wait! Was this even true? You blinked twice. Thrice. Four times.

"B-Bokuto..." Your eyes widened. He’s shirtless, looking so hot this early in the morning beside you in bed... 

Last night... 

You inspected your clothing which gave out every sign of intimacy and if you were right...

"Y/N!" It finally registered in his head! He's still alive and it was you? He studied you closely, taking in your swollen lips, flushed cheeks and beautifully disarrayed hair. You're lovely. You're still an angel regardless if he's just dreaming.

Who thought you were this pretty all along! Bokuto's the type of guy who could never take a hint unless you initiate and you...You never initiate nor flirt with him obviously that's why he'd never really see, consider you in that way.

Maybe it wasn't Cupid's fault, it's his. An angel was just around him but he always failed to notice.

Gulping the thick lump in your throat, if you would remember correctly...

You turned to the bedside table on your left. Surprise coloring your expression as you take the paper on the table. 

It was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream.  

But no. 

Bokuto took a long read at the paper you were holding.  “W-Wait- We are...” 

“Yes.” 

You were, indeed, married to Bokuto Koutaro.  

One of the guests at Kuroo’s wedding was a government employee, who had the authority to officiate a marriage with just a stamp and now... 

“Semi!” Bokuto proclaimed. “It’s him! What happened?” he asked. “How?” 

You blushed. You’d rather not recall what happened last night which was a bit clear for you unlike Bokuto who was totally clueless. You snuck a glance at him. He’s so comfortable in his own skin, attractive mire than he knows it, and you were flustered, seeing him half uncovered.  

“I-I-I guess we better get dressed first!” 

“Oh! Yeah!” He agreed and stood up. The blanket slipped off his body completely, unraveling what’s left unraveled that had your eyes popping at the sight in front of you. “I’m sorry! I'm sorry!” 

You turned away red-faced. 

You were the content creator especially assigned by the JVA to Bokuto. Since he had a strong clout and they can utilize it to promote volleyball, he had exclusive interviews and vlog series, which were something you were doing for him.

You probably know Bokuto more than himself by now with all the research you've done about him and with all the time you spent with each other.

Since you were assigned to him, your career was centered around him, which was your entire life right now. You would be lying if you'd say you didn't find him attractive at all. You may have quite a soft spot for him you kept on burying to death, keeping things professional between you two until last night. If there's something aside from volleyball he's a pro at it's definitely...

You shook your head. You shouldn't be thinking these things.

Once dressed, you both decided to seek Kuroo's help. After all, the newly kept hinself sober last night.

“So we got married at the same day, huh?” Kuroo told Bokuto while waiting for Semi on the phone. The two of them talked over the guy in question to seek for a solution.

Apparently, according to Semi, divorce was the easiest method since annulment would be pricier. 

“He said we have to divorce,” Bokuto informed you. Now, this part came with a little bit of disappointment for him. “The papers will come in a month or few.” 

He was lowkey sad. He got his chance for a love life only to be taken away in a snap.

"No worries," you said. "I can wait."

Somehow, you shared the same sentiments as him. Despite your close relationship professionally, you'd want to get to know him more...personally—not as an athlete, but as an individual.

You were about to exit the hotel but a small commotion suddenly made its way towards you.

The reporters and vloggers were quick to pick up on the news, and as soon as someone saw you both together, they all approached with questions.

Bokuto couldn’t lie as he was actually proud and happy to have you, while you were worried that your accidental marriage might affect his image and sponsorship.  

You tightly held onto his hand and looked at him. He leaned down and you whispered. “I can be your wife.” His eyes grew in surprise. “For a while.”  

An ecstatic grin appeared on his face. Who would’ve thought he’d be so lucky? He got an angel as his wife, though he felt so stupid not to realize how good of a match you two would make until something unforeseenike this would happen.

Bokuto's quick to pull you close to him and he proudly announced that he’s officially a married man. You couldn’t help but feel the same happiness he was radiating. You giggled just watching him. He glanced back at you, eyes watering with gratitude. 

“You’re the best!” 

Sure, he already said that to you a hundred of times, but there's something about the way he said it this time that made it different.

•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•

You both agreed to live together in the meantime since people’s noses would be up his business. Also, soon, he’d be away for overseas training so it wouldn't be much of a big deal.  

Bokuto took his role as a husband very seriously though. He’d welcome you with a big tight hug whenever he’d come home from practice. After all, you have already done more than that the very first time you got re-acquainted.  

You’d spend the rest of the day eating and doing chores together. Some nights, you’d be playing card games and watching movies together just like two best friends, enjoying each other’s company in cold nights. 

“There you go! Catch him! Go!” Bokuto screamed at the TV.  

“Uhm...I think that’s the killer though,” you pointed out. “He’s chasing after the victim.” 

Bokuto stopped, stupefied. Damn! How could he look so much like a loser in front of you. You just laughed at him. It was not mocking, rather it was very endearing. Just watching you laugh sort of made him much bubblier too.  

Silly! He was so silly. He laughed at himself and you both shared that small but warm moment. It felt so good he didn’t want it to end. 

Aaaargh! He was truly an idiot for realizing that you were there right beside him all along and he kept his sights to non-sense pursuits. It didn't matter now what mattered the most was he got you right with him at this very moment.

Days turned into a week and it’s time for his overseas training. Bokuto felt a little off. Everybody could tell that he wasn't his usual chirpy self. He got so used to being around you that not having you in a day made him lose all balance in spirits. A pout never left his face the entire flight.  

They took a break from practice and his teammates were teasing each other when his phone rang. Lazily, he looked into it and his face lit up when he saw it was you.  

“Y/N! It’s youuu!” He exclaimed with enthusiasm. “You called!” 

“Of course,” you said. “You were away so I thought I might check up on you.” 

Timezones had it. It was during this time when you’d both watch your favorite show together, so it reminded you of him. And...maybe a day without him was something so new now for you.  

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I never thought you would! It’s great to hear your voice.” 

You giggled from the other line.  

“Me too.” 

“Will you call me tomorrow before the game too?” His tone was almost pleading. 

“Sure,” you said, rolling all over the bed like a giddy high school girl.  

“Yes! How ‘bout even after the game? Then the next day?”  

“I would. Everyday.” 

Atsumu quirked up an eyebrow, watching Bokuto go from zero to a hundred. Just what kind of vitamins did he take just now to be so bolstered up at an instant like that.  

“What’s with him?” The blonde asked his teammates. 

Hinata scooted close to Atsumu and whispered like a gossiping old lady. “Y/N...” 

“Ohhhh...” Tsumu reacted as they talked about Bokuto and his express wedding setup, but the person in topic had all his ears on you over the phone.  

Distance didn't matter between the two of you. He enjoyed listening and talking to you over the phone. It also made coming home more exciting. He never felt this way before.  

“Y/N!” Bokuto announced, arriving home. You turned in anticipation and he copped you in his arms and twirled you around like a Disney princess.  

You were in a fit of laughter and he simply found joy in your happiness.  

“Miss you so much!” He hugged you super tight, rubbing his cheek against yours. 

“Me too! Me too! I stopped watching the series because I’m waiting for you.” 

“Oh, Y/N!” he exclaimed then remembered, “I smelled like airplane! I better take a bath first before we get back to episode 7.” 

You laughed and he headed off to the bathroom, while you set aside his luggage and kept some of his stuff.   

“Y/N! My angel!” he called from inside the bathroom and you covered your face. He was always so cheesy like that even if it’s just you two and you’re still not used to it. “I forgot to bring my towel with me.” 

You grabbed his towel and knocked on the door. He partially opened the door, showing you a glimpse of his well-toned abs and a slight peek at his bare pelvis and legs. You reached the towel to him not looking at back at his direction.  

“Are you embarrassed?” he asked, curiously. 

“Y-Yes,” you admitted, flushed to the neck. “Are you not?” 

“Why would I?” Bokuto wrapped the towel around his waist. “I believe I look good,” he said. “The same as you.” 

“W-What?” Your face heated up profusely.  

“I think you look good with or withou-”  

“Stop!” You ran away, diving into your bed and hiding under the blankets. You knew you couldn’t say no if he’d ever make a move. Under the context of your agreement, you were married..for a while. You also live uder one room, so the possibility of that is highly likely.  

You heard his steps getting closer. He sat beside you and lifted the blanket, revealing your bashful self underneath.  

He giggled. “You’re just so cute. Do you know that?” His face inched closer to yours. He kissed your nose and you closed your eyes. Next thing you knew, he had already captured your lips. His arms now caging you as you got lost, fallen under his spell.  

His eyes were so loving when you’re under him. Peeling you off from where you hide, his smiled like he couldn’t believe what he’s seeing. “You look so good. So good just like how I thought.” 

Right then and there, you allowed yourself to believe him and get swept away.  

•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•

Koutaro usually comes home early but he was getting home a little late recently. You were glancing at the clock when the doorbell rang and you thought it was him. He probably left his keys again. You headed towards the door and opened it. 

“Mail for Bokuto Koutaro-san,” the mail man informed and you signed the receiving form.

You read the delivery details attached on the envelope. 

From: Semi Eita 

You gasped. 

Divorce papers. You knew this would be the divorce papers you and Koutarou requested when you initially found out that you got married by accident.  

And you remembered that this setup was only for a while.  

Your heart ached so suddenly. You didn’t want this to end. You didn't want you and Kotarou to end. You might not start the way normal couples do, what you had for him was real. At least, for the few months you spent with each other, it seemed so real. But was it ever real for him too? 

You must’ve prepared yourself when you agreed to this arrangement. 

Tears crawled down your cheeks. You’re in love with Koutarou, but you must do the right thing.  

The door to your, no, his apartment opened. “Y/N, my angel! I’m back hooome! Where are you?” Bokuto excitedly announced, but his face dropped to be welcomed by your crestfallen face. “What happened? Why are you...” 

You wiped your tears away and forced a smile. “No, this...is just...nothing. Nothing really!”  

He sat beside you. Before he could even tease you, you handed over the envelope to him. 

You heard the material being torn open as you focused your vision to your hands on your lap.  

Several scenarios played in your head. It’s either he’d play it cool because all this time he knew what he’s singing for, and all this was just a random episode in his life—something he could easily shrug off. The other one was the probability that he loved you the same, but he wouldn’t want to ruin the agreement between you and him, so he’d gladly set you free. 

You weren’t prepared for this. Could you ask for one more night, days, weeks, months, years with him? Would he allow that? Do you really have the courage to ask that of him? But you knew your heart would be broken into shards once he rejected you.  

Your mind spiralled out of control.  

“Is this...why you’re sad, Y/N?” he asked, full of concern. You couldn’t lie about that. “Actually, I asked Semi about this. I really wanted to divorce you immediately.”  

You pinched close your eyes and gripped the fabric of your skirt. 

“But seeing that this got you sad, I guess, I better tell the truth.” He took your hand and cupped it between his. “I want us to divorce so I can do things properly.”  

You raised your head to look at him.  

He knelt down on the floor and brought your hand over his cheek.  “Oh, how could I even hurt you? It’s my fault I made you cry like this.” 

“Koutaro...” you mumbled in confusion. 

“My friends are helping me plan things. Kuroo even helped me pick, but this couldn’t wait.” Scurrying inside his pocket, he pulled out a box, flipped it open and revealed a diamond ring. “I want to marry you properly, Y/N.” 

Your tears of sadness were replaced with pleasant surprise. Your hands flew to your mouth.  

“Now, this wasn’t as grand as we are thinking of but...” His lips quivered and soon he joined you in sobbing. “I can’t afford to see you crying. I can’t break up with you, Y/N. Ilove you. You’re my angel. How can I survive knowing that I let you fly away?” 

You lovingly laughed at his signature dramatics and you knelt beside him, engulfing him in a warm embrace. “I love you, too, Koutaro.” You parted a little, looking him in the eye. “I’ll marry you.” 

He burst out in happiness as you giggled like pre-school kids encountering the magic of puppy love.  

Bokuto recalled wishing for this not a while back...To laugh like the rest of the world doesn't matter just like Kuroo and his wife back then when you two first met.  

Now, he’s got a wife too.

Maybe it wasn't Cupid who was stupid all along. Maybe it was him. The love of his life was always right in front of him yet he failed to notice.

Thanks to Cupid for doing his job at last. He finally struck an arrow to the woman Bokuto could never live without. 

@pixelcafe-network

[imwetforyourmom]

JUST FINE.

CW: Unrequited love, unresolved angst, crying, swearing, cheating in a way if you think about it, yelling

SUMMARY: When you’re the only thing Chris has ever wanted, and ever will, but, when you dont see him that way, and probably wont ever, how will he take it? Or, you’ve stood the poor boy up on a date, hoping he’d get the hint.

A/N: Doc give it to me straight, did I fall off?

·˚ ༘

“You didnt have to do that.”

The dark alley way lit you and Derek, the light providing the perfect visionary to Chris’ nightmares. But, oh gosh, how he wished it hadnt. He would’ve given anything to not see your and his actions. It all sending an itch to gag at the back of his throat and tears beginning to take their place along his waterline.

His eyes took in what they could with his consistent wiping of the back of his hands to rid of the shedding tears, trying to see, to acknowledge what you wouldnt do to Chris, what you could never picture doing with Chris.

What wasnt meant to be for Chris. Your hands were never meant to be running along his body, rubbing seductively while your lips pressed against his, your lips teasingly keeping shut, depriving him of a more intimate kiss. But, what more depriving than watching the love of your life do the actions you’d begged for if she’d asked, do to another without hesitation? No holding back seemingly present in your movements, everything raw and unforgiving to chris. Why couldnt that be him?

Why couldnt he be the one pinning you against the brick red wall, why couldnt he be the one you were moaning and inhaling sharply for, the one where your stomach fluttered with butterflies, the one where you planned to live old with? Why couldnt he be ‘the one’?

Why wasnt he meant for your love? Why was fucking derek the one in his place? Out of all people.. Derek. Derek was the one you desired the most, the one you couldnt hold your composure with, the one your heart beat raced with.

Why couldnt it fucking be him?

His body felt heavy with each second he stared, his eyes beginning to puff with each unshed tear, or hard sob being held deep into his throat, making it harder for him to watch your sinful actions.

The flowers he’d especially boughten because they were your favorite, slowly began slipping from his loosened grip. Too distracted with the utter sight of your carefree actions to keep hold of the now useless flowers.

If you’d told him a year ago, he’d be here, watching his unrequited love makeout with another man—after standing him up, he would’ve laughed in your face. Collected his breathing, and looked you into the eyes, with a puzzled expression, “who is my ‘unrequited love’?” even despite the gleam in his eyes that was present just minutes ago, now gone with the forced laughter that escaped his body.

His body would crash on the inside, but his face would stay stoned, eyebrows raised with questionairre and a clenched fist with the grasp of the little tamed composure he had left. He’d act as if he’d no clue whom his unrequited lover was, but, as much as he wish he did, he knew who she was and now the name brought an itch to throw up at the back of his throat.

The mere thought of you would strike his entire being with the pain he thought he’d never experience, but thats what everyone thinks, until it happens, then they’re never the same.

Everyone swears the love they experienced in highschool was one of tragedies, but tragedies to adore, to admire, to wish you’d had.

Its the tragedies that get to your soul, tear you apart and leave you with the thought ‘Will I ever be the same?’ tears lining your eyes and the ghost feeling of being ‘you’ again, whoever that cold, distant memory may be.

Till that special person falls to their knees and mends you back together entirely, their hand a delicate reminder that you’ll always be worth something to them, never differentaiting from the earths grime, to the earths wonders, the northern lights being danced inside your eyes, but even the skies that withold the mesmerizing colors go dark, see the nights light, an uninteresting black, but they still stand colorful again.

All it takes, is that special person.

And Chris wasnt your special person, the one that would hold your face in his palms and whisper soothing praises as you cry about the tragedies currently overtaking your soul and claiming it as its own.

Derek was gonna be that person, at least, for what he hoped, until highschool was over.

A few years later, on that same street, Chris thought he healed, he’d wished he had, but he knew he didnt. Sure, maybe majority of him healed, but deep down, in his gut he knew a part of him would never heal from the possibilites of you and Chris becoming more, becoming everything he’d ever dreamed of.

His mind never left that brick red wall, too tangled with the mingling of your and Dereks bodies, lost in the desperation and confusion of why he couldnt be Derek. What did Derek have that Chris didnt? What was so good about Derek?

But to you, your voice could never end when Derek was mentioned, the nervous beating of your heart when his name was even mentioned, you could go on and on about Derek, seemingly never having an end towardd what was so good about Derek, and when Chris was mentioned, your arms cradled yourself, curling into yourself as the guilt in your stomach filled, replacing the rapid beating of your heart with its rightful pace.

You knew what you did that night, you saw Chris watching you and Derek, but in that moment, you were too caught up with the fire Dereks fingertips danced along your skin, his lips pressing on yours with comfort and need all at the same time.

Everything about Derek was everything you’ve ever described as ‘begging to want’, the love you’ve so desperately latched onto even the second it was offered, with no thought. Too desperate to experience the love you’d crave everynight, cradling yourself in your arms as your mind did the best it could, creating the fake scenarios for love.

Nothing about Chris was in your desires, nothing he seemed to do gave you the same fluttery in your stomach as Derek did. Even when Chris did his best to adopt Dereks mannerisms, try and be a little more like him—he couldnt. That wasnt him, Derek wasnt him. He was Chris, he just needed to accept the fact that he was him.

The sound of small splashes against rain puddles and footsteps broke Chris’s train of thought, his ghost train, to be specific, his better judgement the ambulance just begging to save him.

He looked away from the same spot he witnessed his entire world fall, only to meet your gaze. The same, cheerful gleam in your eyes, warmfilled smile overtaking your features. Everything about you was comforting.

“What’re you doing out here at,”—you pulled your puffed jacket sleeve from your wrist, checking the familar patterned numbers on the watch, comfortably placed on your wrist, before looking back at Chris—“Twelve ‘o clock at night?” You asked, even with the question in your voice, the same bubbly features remained on your face.

Chris looked back at the wall beside the streetlight, licking his lips dryly as he thought of an answer, his mind running laps, desperate for a reason as of why he was here.

His head dropped to look at his feet, his throat closing with the dry sensation.

“Just, y’know, thinking.” He replied, looking back at you, his tongue peeking back out to lick his lips again.

“What about?” Your curiosity overtook your tongue, though, chris expected no less. You were always naturally curious.

“Us,” his eye contact faltered, deciding it’d just be best to stop lying, to stop living his life in his own shadow.

Your eyebrows stitched, your loud smile beginning to fall to a slight frown. “Whats there to think about us, Chris?”

“Everything, Y/n,” he looked away again, his voice faltering between a cracked whisper, to the non-chalant tone he was desperate to keep.

“I cant keep pretending like im happy with ‘us’. I’m not, fuck, I’ve never been happy with how we are. I dont want this.” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he fought the overwhelming emotions slowly taking over his features, the frown enveloping his mouth, the slight crack in his voice each time he spoke and a slow start to the never ending whirlwind of emotions he’s about to speak of, and experience, all over again.

Your eyes ran over his face, slowly understanding everything that he was saying. Your heart fought its own thumps to stay unwounded from his own hurt.

“Chris, I-“ your voice was cut off with his, a seemingly urgence in the way he spoke.

“No. Let me finish.” He shifted on his feet before turning to look at you, taking in a small breath as preperation before continuing.

“I, I was fucking standing there, watching as you and Derek got all- fuckin,” his voice began to break, thinking of the night he witnessed why you stood him up, “all that. Do you know how fucking bad you hurt me that night? Words dont even begin to explain how hurt I was. You were feeling Derek up, while I was fuckin crying in the empty space of my room.” He exasperated, the look in his eyes gave it all away, he still wasnt finished. His mouth was still full of words he wanted to say, but he wanted to let his previous words sink in first.

“Chris, im sorry, I really am—I dont know what I was thinking- I truly am sorry.” You begged, your eyes filled with sympathy and your voice beginning to crack with guilt.

“You can’t say that, Y/n, you’re not sorry. You dont have a right to be sorry, all you had to do, Y/n, all you had to do was go on the date with me. You didnt fucking have to stand me up, you could’ve even shot me a text cancelling the date, but you didnt. You didnt, you left me there to watch. To watch what you weren’t willing to do with me. And I get that, I understand that you dont want me, but you could’ve fucking said that!” He snapped, his emotioms overtaking his everything. Tears brimmed at his eyes, his voice gave signs to the vulnerabilty he was giving.

“You didnt have to do that.” He sighed, unwilling to let the rest of his emotions flow, he didnt want you to see what you did to him, only hear what you caused.

The shield you’d made just minutes ago to keep your heart together, crashed down. You could feel the radiating thump of your heart against your rib cage throughout your entire body, but none of it amounted to the pure guilt that claimed your body, the sinking hole inside your chest beginning to sink with the guilt overlapping, becoming too heavy.

Tears brimmed at your waterline, a lump grew in your throat, creating the effort you should’ve put in Chris, now replaced with the effort to apologize to Chris.

“Please Chris, you need to understand, I didnt mean to hurt you!” You begged, your voice becoming desperate. Yet, not even beginning to be as desperate as Chris ever was.

Hearing your words sent anger coursing through his blood, “Didnt mean to hurt me? You didnt fucking mean to hurt me? Can you hear yourself, Y/n? Are you out of your mind? Of fucking course you were gonna hurt me! You stood me up for some low life, I would’ve given you the world! But you chose fucking Derek—who, remind me, left you for a slut? No?” His words pierced right through you, re-opening the carefully stiched wounds Derek had left on you.

Fighting off the sobs became weaker and weaker, before your body felt absolutely broken from it all. Sobs racked through your body, and guilt replaced the tears spilling from your cheeks.

“No, no, no, Y/n, its fine. I’ll be just fine without you.” He mocked, shaking his head before sparing you one last glance, moving his begrudgingly feet away from you, walking away and leaving you there just as you’d done to him.

Even despite the pure need Chris felt to run back to you, to cradle you in his arms, soothe and apologize to you, he knew you didnt deserve that, he knew he was better than what you were going to offer to him anyways. You didnt fucking deserve the love and pure adoration Chris would’ve offered, would’ve given with no hesitation.

2096 words.

TAGS

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@elas3

[writing-for-life]

Sandman Sneak Peek Analysis

There is Brief Lives in this, but you’ll miss it if you blink…

Is everyone recovering? 🤣

So we obviously got our fill of thirst traps, but I wanted to analyse the sneak peek (click to watch) a bit more closely.

Many people were commenting they only see Season of Mists and Song of Orpheus in the clip, but I don’t think that’s true. We obviously don’t know what exactly they did to the arcs and what might have changed, but I still predict that the first batch will be Season of Mists and Brief Lives (with other stuff thrown in, I wrote about it here). [I think we also saw a clip from Thermidor in the sneak peek, and that Lady Johanna Constantine was in it, but that just as an aside.]

So let’s start with stills I think are definitely from

Brief Lives

I honestly think it’s this (they’re lighting his face from below for a campfire effect, there are candles etc):

Edit 22/09:

We sleuthed a bit more across several platforms, and some clever people pointed out this:

These two frames appear in different places of the sneak peak, so we can’t know for certain if they are from the same scene. It is possible though. And if they are: He is wearing his ruby on the one to the left. It’s hard to tell if it’s the same thing to the right, but it could be? If so, that would mean this could be from Song of Orpheus instead of Brief Lives.

He does wear a clasp in Brief Lives all the way through, so that’s also possible, but again: If these shots are from the same scene, which it honestly looks like, I’m now leaning towards Song of Orpheus, and this particular scene (there’s a fire there, too):

Plus, if you zoom in and squint really hard, he seems to be wearing something on his shoulder here, too:

What else?

We see Despair’s Realm. But we don’t in Season of Mists. So this is either Brief Lives, or they give us a bit of Three Septembers and a January (which I’d love tbh, but I’m not going to hold my breath).

Next:

I think this could be Ruby’s/Wanda’s death/the fire. It’s really hard to see, but that could be Indya Moore sleeping? Let me know what you think…

Then this one:

I bet my bottom dollar this is Suffragette City and Ishtar’s dance. Now, the bottom panel is a tricky one because in the sneak peek, it’s actually right after the shot of (presumed) Wanda, so my initial response was it’s the fire. But the curtains look exactly the same as in the one with Ishtar’s dance, plus I think the glass is also in both shots. Which makes me think they either just put those scenes randomly together in the clip despite them being separate, OR that they changed the arc a bit and pulled Wanda/Ruby and Ishtar’s dance together. Either way, we’re definitely in Brief Lives I think.

Over to…

Season of Mists

I cackled like a lunatic when I saw this. IYKYK, but I somehow didn’t expect them to give us that one. Hurray (or not, depending on whether you like spiders I guess 🤣)

Angels looking modern…

Shame really, I wouldn’t have minded a more comics accurate look, but hey. Also: Is that your man Edward, @marlowe-zara ? Hard to tell from this angle, but I think it could be?

That’s also Andre Flynn in the background (also an Angel then).

Shivering Jemmy with the balloon! 🎈 If she doesn’t dump it on Dream, I’m gonna riot!

These ones with Lucienne are hard to place, and they could be anything, but they somehow give me stronger Season of Mists than Brief Lives vibes, although both is possible.

I have a hunch it’s this one:

Then there’s naturally all the obvious stuff (Cluracan, Susano-o-No-Mikoto, the family dinner etc etc), but I don’t think I have to get into those because they jump out at us straightaway.

More in the realm of

Casting

I think that might be Ella Rumpf as Eurydice, @tickldpnk8 What do you think?

This is definitely Wil Coban, but who he? Fae (the ears suggest so much)?

So what’s everyone thinking?

[lewmagoo]

we own the sky | rhett abbott

part one: ain’t no love in oklahoma

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

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

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

pairing: rhett abbott x f!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rhett–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It felt like the town was stuck in time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Six Years Ago

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

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

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

“As I’ll ever be.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then, just beyond him, you saw it. 

“Holy shit.”

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

“Come on, come on, come on.”

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

Almost there. Almost there. Almost there. 

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

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

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

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

Within seconds, your entire life was turned upside down. 

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

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

Now it was time to run. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It sounded like the world was coming to an end. 

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

And then, all at once, it stopped. 

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

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” he breathed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rhett,” came your whisper. 

“I see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rhett, the girls! Are they—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, an update did come. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Present Day

Until now. 

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

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

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

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

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

Cecilia Abbott. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It still felt like home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not until you look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess not,” you finally agreed. 

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

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

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

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

“I…I’m fine,” you answered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

Cecilia beamed. “Then it’s settled.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll share with you.”

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

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

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

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

“Rhett—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does she remember them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon, it’ll be like old times.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s really amazing,” you remarked. 

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

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

“Did you ever go back to bull riding?”

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

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

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

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

“That’s different.”

“How? Both could kill you.”

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

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

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

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

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

You almost lost him that night. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess so,” Rhett agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too busy storm chasing?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Amy,” Cecilia cautioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Easy as pie, right? 

You hoped so. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. 

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

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

“Hi!” She said, “I’m Jeslyn.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It does,” you agreed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

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

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

Maybe you did miss storm chasing, after all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The conversation around the dinner table soon shifted to other things. You noticed that none of them asked you about your storm chasing past. You wondered how much Rhett had told them, and if he’d instructed them not to ask about the details, at risk of upsetting you. 

It was very considerate of him, if he had. 

After dinner, everyone helped clean up while Cecilia ushered Amy upstairs, against the girl’s protests. “You’ve got school in the mornin’, early bedtime isn’t optional!” Her grandmother insisted. 

But Amy had to make sure she said goodnight to everyone first before she made the reluctant trudge up the stairs. Oh, to have the innocence of a child again, unwilling to go to bed because all the adults were still awake.

The evening carried on, and once the dishes were washed and the table was cleared, you were led outside to see all the equipment Zara had told you about. And what a setup it was.

The trailer attached to the back of Rhett’s truck was full of nitrogen tanks, sealed with remote controlled valves. The trailer itself was also remote controlled, according to Rhett. 

“Come see,” he motioned for you to follow as he opened the driver’s side door. He pointed at the center console, where there was a board of switches, framed by labels indicating what each switch was for. “Danny and Finn helped get this up an’ running. If we need t’ let the trailer go, all I gotta do is press a button and it’ll release. S’how we get the tanks in the path of the twister.”

You stared in amazement at the device. “How? Like, how do you figure out when to release the trailer? And how does it not just get blown away?”

A grin tugged at his mouth. “Figured that one out too.”

He led you to the side of the trailer, where he pointed at a compartment positioned directly between the wheels. “Soon as I get the trailer in place, I flip a switch and stakes lower outta this compartment here and into the ground. Usually we’re cuttin’ it close, but I can get the truck positioned in the path of the twister. Then I get the trailer settled and get the hell outta Dodge.”

“Then I hit the remote control for the tanks and release the nitrogen into the air,” Finn piped up eagerly.

“Meanwhile, Zara and I are tracking the storm pattern and trying to figure out exactly when to release the trailer,” came Jeslyn’s explanation.

You stared at all the equipment in total wonder. These people had thought of everything. More than you or Rhett ever had when you were chasing. Your operation then had been very bare bones, and really, you were just following storms for the fun of it. 

But this? This was an entire science experiment, and it was fascinating. Despite your refusal to chase again, you were very curious about what all of this would look like in action. If Zara ever succeeded in stopping a twister, she would make history. 

That was something you almost wanted to be a part of. Almost. 

Later that night, you found yourself curled up in an Adirondack chair, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as everyone sat around the fire that Rhett had built in the old fire pit. The place held so many memories. Namely, the night Rhett had asked you to be his girlfriend. It was right here. 

He remembered that night, too. You could tell he was thinking about it when he caught your eye from across the fire. 

Around you, the group settled into comfortable conversation. The kind that happened when old friends got together. Anything and everything was discussed as the night gave way to inky darkness, the stars twinkling above, like glitter spilled across a black velvet canvas. 

Before she’d retired for the night, Cecilia had warmed some apple cider on the stove, and a mug of it was currently situated in your hands, its taste spicy and comforting. You enjoyed listening to Rhett’s friends tell stories of different storms they’d chased, reliving all the exciting times they’d had together.

You wondered if you would be running with them, too, had you stayed here instead of moving to Silver Springs and taking your weather analyst job. Would it just be you and Rhett, or would fate have still decided to bring these people into your life?

Their passion was admirable. Zara was a very driven individual, hellbent on making a difference. “If I could at least slow down a twister, even if it doesn’t fully stop it, think of all the lives we could save. That’s why I do all of this. I wanna protect people.”

That was just it, wasn’t it? Saving lives. You thought back to the fateful day you had lost Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia. If you’d had a way of slowing down that twister, or even stopping it altogether, perhaps they would still be here.

But you couldn’t think that way, because it was already done. There was no way to go back in time and save them. 

The thought made your chest ache, and you had to swallow the wave of grief that rose in your throat. Rhett caught your eye over the flames, and shot you a reassuring look, almost as if he knew what you were thinking.

To your relief, the subject soon changed from storm chasing, and moved on to lighter things. 

“Hey, rodeo’s on Saturday. We were all thinking of going together. You should totally join us!” Jeslyn suggested, nodding in your direction. 

“Yeah, you should!” Finn agreed.

That piqued your interest. “Sure, I’ll still be in town, so why not?” You hadn’t been to a rodeo in so long. Not since Rhett’s last ride, which had ended in disaster.

Jeslyn grinned over her mug of cider. “Great! We’re gonna have so much fun. We’ll take care of your ticket, so you don’t have to worry about it.” 

You raised a brow in surprise. “Really? You don’t have to do that.”

Everyone protested at once, insisting that they wanted the rodeo ticket to be their treat. You were touched at their generosity, and accepted the offer gratefully. Might as well make the most of your time in Wabang.

Soon, it was time for the group to disperse and head in their own respective ways. Rhett threw some sand over the dying embers, while everyone else folded up their chairs to store back in the barn. As you walked the group back to their cars, Zara turned to you, her face kind.

“I know you’ve got your reasons for choosing not to chase, I want you to know the invitation for you to join us is open, in case you ever change your mind,” she told you. 

You weren’t entirely sure what came over you then. Maybe it was your desire to make a difference. Maybe you were just foolish. But for whatever reason, you were emboldened enough to say, “y’know what? I’ve got a proposition.” You stole a glance at Rhett to make sure he was listening. “I’ll go on a chase with you guys if Rhett agrees to ride at next weekend’s rodeo.”

You knew Rhett. He had a competitive nature. He was going to say yes. Everyone’s eyes landed on him, awaiting his answer.

“Shoo-ee, you gonna accept that challenge, Rhett?” Danny asked with a grin, fully invested.

Beside you, Rhett grimaced. “Ain’t no way they’ll let me in the ring,” he protested.

“Does Beau still oversee the bull riding contestants?” You inquired.

You and Rhett both knew that Beau would agree to letting him ride, because only Beau Wilson was crazy enough to allow such a thing. 

“Yeah,” Rhett answered your question. He was well aware of the direction this was going.

“Then I’ll go talk to him. He’ll get you a spot in the ring. If you can handle it, that is.” You gave him a pointed look. 

“I can handle it, darlin’.” Despite the determination in his tone, the nickname settled over you like a warm embrace. He hadn’t called you that in so long. “So if I do this, you swear you’ll go on a run with us?”

“Pinky swear.” You held your hand out, pinky up.

Rhett eyed your hand for a moment before he linked his pinky finger with yours. “Fine. You got yourself a deal.”

Finn and Danny whooped in excitement, while Zara and Jeslyn looked between you and Rhett, bewildered. “Who would’ve thought you’d be the one to get him back on a bull? We always say he should try riding again, but he always says no,” Zara explained. 

You looked at Rhett, and he ducked his head, hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck. You swore you saw his ears turn red. “Guess he just needed some friendly competition,” you replied.

Not long after, goodbyes were said, and the group parted ways, climbing into their vehicles and driving off, leaving you and Rhett standing there in the driveway. Immediately, you realized that your proposition was a bit preposterous. 

“Oh my god, if you don’t want to ride, you don’t have to. I don’t know why I said that, I just…”

But he waved his hand, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ll do it. It’ll do me some good to get back on a bull. Just like it’ll do you some good to face another twister. Might help us both process some shit,” he reasoned.

You let out a breath. “Maybe so.”

You both turned to walk toward the house, and he asked you a question as you went. “What made you change your mind?”

You paused, glancing down at your feet before you looked at him. “I dunno, all of Zara’s talk about saving lives…it got me thinking. It would be so cool if it could work. Imagine all the people she could save! She’s making a difference, and I want to be a part of that.” And then, “maybe if…if we had something like that six years ago, Perry, Rebecca, and Lydia would still be alive.”

Rhett’s boots crunched against dirt as he absently kicked a few pebbles out of the way. “Don’t go spiralin’ into the ‘what ifs’. Universe saw fit to take ‘em, so it did. No machine could’ve stopped it. Not that kinda twister.”

You studied his expression. “Do you believe in Zara’s project?”

He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I do, but there ain’t no way it would stop an EF5 tornado. We’d be fucked if it hit us.”

“It’s still worth a try, though, isn’t it? If it works, and if she can get it going on a larger scale…she could save entire towns from being destroyed! Think of the history she’s going to make!”

Rhett’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “There she is.”

“What?”

“My storm chasin’ gal. You’re back.”

You shrugged. “I guess so. But just know this isn’t a permanent thing, ‘kay? I’m only going out there with you guys to see how Zara’s invention works. After that, I’m going back to Silver Springs. To my job, where I don’t have to live off of McDonald’s and Whataburger every day and stay in shitty motels while I wait for a twister to just fall out of the sky.”

He bit back his ever-widening grin, shaking his head. “Sure thing. I’m just glad you decided to face your fear, s’all.”

Facing your fear. That was what this was, wasn’t it? You knew that  if you could do this, it would show you that you were capable of moving past your grief that still felt crippling at times. But you couldn’t help but wonder; when staring into the face of a tornado, would you be able to stand your ground, or would you let your fear send you running like a frightened child?

You would soon find out. But you didn’t realize just how soon. 

-

taglist: tagging those who expressed interest or asked to be tagged (lmk if you wanna be added or removed)

@withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @ryebecca @peachystenbrough @attapullman

@sebsxphia @delopsia @damrlova @fragilefearnie @floydsmuse

@fairyheart @hangmanapologist @lovinglyeternal @likearolloftape @bobfloydsbabe

@nobody7102 @mearslot @torturedpoetspsychward @floydsglasses @hearteyesforlewis

@shamelessghostwagonwobbler @cloudofbutterflies92 @keep-on-burnin @ravenmoore14 @queenbbarnes

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@frequentnosebleeder @atoncments @eolsens @casuallyclassless @desert-fern

@perfectprettypisces @parcetamoldaisy @zirrocom @rhettsgirll @just-in-case-iloveyou

@ada--44 @sydney-malcontent @9ullmans @bradshawsbitch

@callsignmedusa @antiquitea @ohmyeyesmyeyes @spidervman @oddlymighty-witch @dreams-in-anthracis

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (10/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 10: The Hills

The Colorado mountains loomed in the distance as Lewis's car wound its way up the private road to their secluded home. Exhaustion from the Las Vegas race and recent events weighed heavily on him, but the anticipation of seeing his family pushed it all to the back of his mind.

With only two and a half days at home before he had to leave for Abu Dhabi for the season's final race, the Hamilton family had decided to celebrate an early Thanksgiving. It was a chance to gather everyone together before the hectic end to the Formula 1 season and the upcoming holidays.

As Lewis pulled up to the house, he could already hear the muffled sounds of activity inside. A wreath hung on the front door, and the scent of pine and cinnamon greeted him as he stepped out of the car.

Before he could even reach for his bags, the front door burst open. Roscoe's excited barks filled the air as the bulldog bounded towards him, tail wagging furiously. Close behind, a blur of motion that could only be Lyric toddled out, arms outstretched.

"Dada! Dada!" Lyric called out, his face beaming with joy.

Lewis scooped up his son, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Hey, little man! I missed you so much."

As he carried Lyric inside, with Roscoe circling his legs, Lewis took in the scene before him. The house filled with people, everyone pitching in to prepare for the early celebration.

In the kitchen, he spotted Rorie and his mother, Carmen, working side by side at the counter, flour dusting their aprons as they prepared what looked like pie crusts. His father, Anthony, and stepmother, Linda, were in the living room with Rorie's parents, arranging decorations and setting up extra chairs.

"Look who's here!" Lewis called out, unable to keep the smile from his face.

Rorie looked up, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him. She quickly wiped her hands on her apron and rushed over, enveloping both Lewis and Lyric in a tight hug.

"Welcome home," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

As the family gathered around, exchanging hugs and greetings, Lewis felt the tension of the past few days begin to melt away. Here, surrounded by the love of his family, he could almost forget the challenges that awaited them.

But as he caught Rorie's eye over the heads of their excited family members, he saw the shadow of worry there. They had much to discuss, decisions to make. But for now, for these precious two and a half days before he had to leave for the crucial race in Abu Dhabi, they would celebrate. They would be thankful for what they had – each other, their families, and the strength to face whatever came next.

"So," Lewis said, bouncing Lyric on his hip, "what can I do to help with this early Thanksgiving?"

The room erupted in laughter and a chorus of suggestions, and Lewis dove right in, grateful for this moment of normalcy amidst the chaos of their lives.

The family bustled around, preparing for the early Thanksgiving celebration, and Lewis found himself alone in the living room with his father, Anthony. The older man's face was etched with concern as he helped hang a string of lights.

"Son," Anthony began, his voice low, "we need to talk about what happened in Vegas."

Lewis tensed, knowing this conversation was coming. "Dad, I–"

"I saw the TMZ video," Anthony cut in, his tone stern. "That woman, Deja... she seemed pretty convinced about your history. What's that all about?"

Lewis sighed, running a hand over his face. "Honestly, Dad, I don't remember meeting her. It was All-Star weekend in 2017, I was partying a lot back then."

Anthony shook his head, disappointment evident in his eyes. "Lewis, you know better than to let situations like this escalate in public. What were you thinking, engaging with her like that?"

"I wasn't thinking," Lewis admitted. "It caught me off guard. I never expected–"

"That's the problem, isn't it?" Anthony interrupted. "You always need to expect the unexpected, especially with your profile. This could have serious consequences for you and Rorie."

Just then, Rorie entered the room. She sensed the tension immediately. "Everything okay in here?"

Lewis looked at her, guilt washing over him. "We were just discussing the Deja situation."

Rorie's face fell slightly, but she squared her shoulders. "We're in this together, Lewis. Whatever happened in the past, we'll face it as a team."

Anthony nodded approvingly at Rorie's words. "That's the right attitude. But Lewis, you need to be more careful. This woman's claims, whether true or not, could affect your reputation, your career."

"I know, Dad," Lewis said, feeling like a chastised teenager again. "We're working with our legal team to handle it."

Rorie moved to stand beside Lewis, taking his hand. "We also need to discuss the situation with Luisa," she said softly.

Anthony's eyebrows shot up. "Luisa? Your housekeeper? What's she got to do with this?"

Lewis and Rorie exchanged a look before Lewis spoke. "It turns out she's been the one leaking information to Deja and possibly the press."

"Good Lord," Anthony muttered. "It never rains but it pours, does it?"

Just then, Lyric ran into the room, breaking the tension. "Dada, play!" he demanded, tugging on Lewis's pant leg.

Lewis scooped him up, grateful for the interruption. "Sure thing, little man. Let's go see what trouble we can get into."

As Lewis left with Lyric, Rorie and Anthony shared a concerned look.

"We'll get through this," Rorie said, her voice firm. "We always do."

Anthony nodded, patting her shoulder. "That you do, my dear. That you do." He paused, his eyes softening as he looked at Rorie. "You know, you're the best thing that's ever happened to Lewis. He's grown so much since being with you."

Rorie smiled, touched by his words. "Thank you, Anthony. That means a lot."

"But," Anthony continued, his tone turning serious, "his past... it's not all pretty. Are you prepared for it all to come out? There might be things even you don't know about."

Rorie met his gaze steadily. "I know about what happened in his life before me, Anthony. We've been open with each other from the start."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "Even what happened with Nicole?"

Rorie nodded. "Even Nicole. And his mistakes in their relationship. We worked through it in counseling a long time ago, and he even apologized to Nicole for cheating." She took a deep breath. "I've got this, Anthony. Trust me. Nothing is coming between me and my husband. Whatever Deja is saying is nothing we can't handle."

Anthony studied her for a moment, then broke into a warm smile. "You're a strong woman, Rorie. Lewis is lucky to have you."

"We're lucky to have each other," Rorie corrected gently. "And we're lucky to have such a supportive family. Now, come on. Let's get back to these decorations before my mom comes looking for us."

_______________________________________________

As the afternoon wore on, the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of more guests. Tia, Ayesha, and Britt bustled in, arms laden with bags of food and gifts, their laughter filling the entryway.

"We're here!" Tia called out, shaking snow from her boots. "And we brought reinforcements!"

Behind them, KiKi entered more hesitantly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. As Lewis came to greet them, there was a palpable tension between him and KiKi.

After a moment's hesitation, Lewis pulled KiKi into a hug. "We need to talk later," he whispered in her ear.

As they pulled apart, KiKi glanced at Rorie, who gave a subtle nod. "Sure," KiKi muttered, her voice unsteady.

The group dispersed, with the women heading to the kitchen to help with dinner preparations while the men, led by Lewis and Anthony, began setting up the expansive dining room table and arranging the bar area.

In the kitchen, Rorie was carefully preparing Lewis's vegan meal alongside the traditional Thanksgiving fare. The aroma of herbs and roasted vegetables mingled with the rich scent of turkey still cooking in the oven.

"So," Ayesha said, sidling up to KiKi as she chopped vegetables, "when were you going to tell us about Khalil?"

KiKi's knife paused mid-chop. "What are you talking about?"

Tia joined them, her voice gentle but firm. "We know you've been seeing him again, Ki."

Rorie turned from the stove, wiping her hands on her apron. "We're worried about you, that's all."

KiKi's shoulders slumped. "It's not what you think. He's changed, he–"

"Girl, please," Ayesha interrupted. "That man has more lines than a geometry textbook."

"What about Miles?" Britt asked softly. "He really cares about you, Ki."

KiKi's eyes darted between her friends. "Miles is... he's great, but–"

"But nothing," Rorie said, moving closer to the group. "Miles is a good man who treats you right. Khalil? He's shown you who he is time and time again."

"Miles is actually on his way here," Tia added. "He should be arriving soon."

KiKi's eyes widened. "What? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

"Because we wanted to talk to you first," Rorie explained. "KiKi, you deserve someone who values you, who's ready for the same things you are. Give Miles a real chance."

KiKi was quiet for a moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I'm scared," she admitted finally. "What if I'm not good enough for him?"

The three friends enveloped KiKi in a group hug. "You are more than good enough," Rorie assured her. "Just be yourself. That's who Miles fell for in the first place."

As they broke apart, KiKi managed a small smile. "Okay, okay. I'll talk to him when he gets here."

"That's our girl," Tia grinned, playfully bumping KiKi's hip.

The kitchen buzzed with renewed energy as they continued their preparations, the air filled with the warmth of friendship and the promise of new beginnings. Outside, the sound of another car pulling up signaled Miles's arrival, and a fresh wave of anticipation swept through the house.

As Miles made his way inside, greeting everyone with warm hugs and handshakes, the women put the finishing touches on the meal. Rorie and Carmen carefully transferred the golden-brown turkey to a serving platter, while Tia and Britt arranged side dishes on the expansive dining table. KiKi, with a newfound determination in her eyes, volunteered to pour the wine, stealing glances at Miles as he chatted with Lewis and Anthony.

Soon, the dining room was filled with the enticing aromas of the feast and the soft glow of candles. As everyone settled into their seats, the room resonated with laughter and the clinking of cutlery. Miles had slid into the seat next to KiKi, offering her a warm smile that she tentatively returned.

Greg raised his glass, proposing a toast to family, friends, and new beginnings. As glasses clinked and the meal began in earnest, the room filled with animated conversation and the warmth of togetherness. Lewis eventually caught KiKi's eye and nodded towards the kitchen. Excusing themselves, they stepped away from the bustling dining room.

In the relative quiet of the kitchen, Lewis turned to KiKi, his expression serious. "KiKi, I owe you an apology. I was wrong to suspect you of talking to The Sun. I'm sorry for doubting you."

KiKi's shoulders relaxed slightly. "It's okay, Lewis. I understand why you might have thought that, given everything that's been going on."

Lewis nodded, relieved. "Still, I should have known better. You've always had our backs."

KiKi took a deep breath. "Actually, there's something I need to tell you. I was... kind of involved, but not in the way you think."

Lewis's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Deja invited me out to lunch one day," KiKi explained. "When I got there, she started talking shit about Rorie. I left immediately, but... well, let's just say I handled it."

Lewis's eyes widened. "KiKi, what did you do?"

KiKi took a sip of her wine, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Let's just say the bitch knows better than to open her mouth again."

Lewis couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head. "You're wild, you know that? But seriously, what did you do?"

KiKi just shrugged, a haunting smile playing on her lips. "Some things are better left unsaid, Lewis. Just know that I've always got your back – you and Rorie both."

Lewis studied her for a moment, then broke into a grin. "You really are a ride-or-die friend, aren't you?"

"You know it," KiKi winked. "Now, can we get back to dinner? I've got a fine ass man waiting for me out there."

As they rejoined the dinner party, Lewis couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the fierce loyalty of their friends. Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew they had a strong support system to lean on.

Back at the table, Rorie caught Lewis's eye, raising an eyebrow in silent question. He gave her a reassuring smile, mouthing "Later" before diving back into the lively conversation around him. For now, he was content to enjoy this moment of warmth and togetherness with their extended family, savoring every bite of the lovingly prepared meal and every moment of laughter.

On a sunny afternoon in California, Rorie stood outside Luisa's modest home in the Valley. The streets were lined with deciduous trees, their leaves a mix of golden yellows and deep reds, a reminder that even in sunny California, autumn had arrived. With Lewis still in Abu Dhabi preparing for his final race of the season, Rorie knew he and Julian would have a conniption if they knew she was there, but she needed answers.

Rorie adjusted the basket of toys and gifts in her arms, filled with items for Luisa's daughters - Isabella, now a vivacious 7-year-old, and Catalina, a precocious 9-year-old. She thought back to all the times she'd visited this house, the laughter and warmth that had always greeted her. Luisa had been more than just a housekeeper; she'd become family over the years.

Taking a deep breath, Rorie knocked. When Luisa opened the door, surprise and fear flashed across her face.

"Por favor, Luisa," Rorie pleaded, her Spanish much improved from their years together. "Necesitamos hablar."

A small smile cracked Luisa's stern expression. "Your Spanish gets better every time," she said softly.

"I had the best teacher," Rorie replied, her voice warm with affection.

After a moment's hesitation, Luisa stepped aside, allowing Rorie to enter. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air, mingling with the aroma of something savory simmering on the stove - perhaps Luisa's famous pozole, perfect for the cooler weather. It reminded Rorie of countless afternoons spent in this kitchen, chatting and laughing as Luisa taught her to make traditional Mexican dishes.

"Where are the girls?" Rorie asked, looking around the cozy living room, noticing the fall-themed decorations.

"With their abuelita at the park," Luisa replied, her voice softer now. "Mamá is visiting for the month."

Rorie's face lit up. "Oh, I've missed your mother! Her stories always make me laugh."

Luisa's tension eased slightly. "She misses you too. She asked about you just this morning."

They settled at the small kitchen table, soft autumn light filtering through the lace curtains Rorie had helped Luisa pick out last year.

"I'm so sorry, Rorie," she began, tears welling in her eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you or your family."

"Then why, Luisa? Why did you help Deja?"

Luisa took a shaky breath. "Alexander... he promised to help Miguel. He said he had connections at the embassy." She explained about Miguel being held up in Mexico after a short visit to see his parents and border patrol agents noting him missing certain documents claiming his resident status in the U.S. "But it's not true. They're just being difficult."

Rorie was stunned. "Luisa, why didn't you come to us? We could have helped Miguel!"

Luisa broke down, sobbing. "You've done so much for us already. I couldn't ask for more."

Rorie felt a mix of hurt and frustration. "Luisa, I love you like a sister. We would have helped in a heartbeat."

"I know that now," Luisa whispered. "I was scared and desperate."

Rorie reached across the table, taking Luisa's hand. "I understand. But we can fix this. I'll talk to Julian about not pressing charges and I’ll see what I can do about helping Miguel."

Luisa looked up, hope in her eyes. "Really?"

Rorie nodded. "But we need your help with our lawsuit against Deja. Maybe you could meet with her again?"

Luisa squeezed Rorie's hand. "Anything. I'll do anything to make this right."

After their emotional conversation, Rorie and Luisa spent some time catching up on lighter topics, the familiar rhythm of their friendship slowly returning. As they chatted, the front door burst open, and Isabella and Catalina rushed in, followed by their abuelita.

"Tía Rorie!" the girls squealed, throwing themselves into Rorie's arms.

Rorie hugged them tightly. She exchanged warm greetings with Luisa's mother, promising to visit again soon for a proper catch-up.

As Rorie prepared to leave, Luisa walked her to the door. "Thank you for coming, Rorie. For listening and understanding."

Rorie squeezed her hand. "We're family, Luisa. We'll get through this together."

On the drive back to Malibu, Rorie's mind wandered to her conversation with Lewis about KiKi. KiKi's ominous words about handling Deja worried her. While she appreciated KiKi's loyalty, they needed to ensure their case against The Sun and Deja was solid and above board. They couldn't afford any complications.

Arriving home, Rorie headed straight to the office area. As she settled in, Nina knocked softly on the door frame, Lyric balanced on her hip.

"Look who's up from his nap," Nina said with a smile.

Lyric's face lit up at the sight of Rorie. "Mama!" he squealed, reaching for her.

Rorie scooped him up, peppering his face with kisses. "Hello, my sweet boy. Did you have a good nap?"

Lyric nodded enthusiastically. "Play now?"

"In a little bit, baby," Rorie promised. "Mama has some important calls first. But after that, we'll have some playtime, okay?"

Lyric considered this for a moment before nodding. "Okay, Mama."

As Nina took Lyric back, Rorie called out, "Thanks, Nina. I should be done in about an hour."

"No problem," Nina replied. "We'll be in the playroom when you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, Rorie logged into Zoom for her interviews with potential personal assistants. Yael and Penni had screened several candidates, narrowing it down to two promising options.

The first candidate, Zoe, appeared on screen. She was a Black woman in her late twenties, with box braids pulled into a neat bun and warm, intelligent eyes. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Hamilton," she began confidently. "I'm excited to discuss how I can support you and your family."

Rorie was impressed by Zoe's organization and attention to detail as they discussed the role. "How would you handle a situation where the media is pressuring for a statement on a sensitive family matter?" Rorie asked.

Zoe's response was measured and thoughtful, demonstrating a good understanding of media management.

The second candidate, Olivia, was a white woman in her early thirties with auburn hair and an air of calm competence. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hamilton," she said. "I understand the unique challenges of your position and I'm prepared to handle them discreetly and efficiently."

As they talked, Olivia demonstrated a solid understanding of crisis management. "In my previous role, I dealt with several high-profile situations," she explained. "Discretion and quick thinking are key."

By the end of the interviews, Rorie had a lot to consider. Both candidates had their strengths, but she knew she needed someone who could navigate the complexities of her life with grace and discretion.

As she ended the calls, Rorie made notes to discuss with Yael later. They had a tough decision ahead, but having a capable assistant would be crucial in managing her increasingly complicated life.

True to her word, an hour later, Rorie found herself in the playroom with Lyric, their laughter echoing through the house as they built towers with colorful blocks, the weight of the day's events temporarily forgotten in the joy of these precious moments with her son.

As the 2023 F1 season officially came to a close, Lewis felt the familiar mix of fatigue and relief. After wrapping up his final promotional duties with his sponsors, he was more than ready for some quality family time. And boy, was it needed. Between the bullshit with Deja and The Sun, Rorie's impromptu visit to Luisa's home, and the scrap metal of a car he drove this season, he wanted nothing more than to relax. He'd wish that his wife would've gone over her plan before visiting their housekeeper, but he was happy to know that Luisa wanted to make it up to them.

Thank God for small miracles.

Lewis, Rorie, and Lyric made their way inside SoFi Stadium for the Denver Broncos vs. Los Angeles Chargers game. As part of the Broncos ownership group, they bypassed the main crowds, a discreet security detail ushering them towards a private elevator. Rorie couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement - no matter how many games they attended, the experience never got old.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a corridor of luxury suites, but theirs was special. At the end of the hall, a door marked with the Broncos logo slid open, revealing a space that was more akin to a high-end apartment than a typical stadium box.

Floor-to-ceiling windows led out to a private balcony that hung over the field, offering an unobstructed view of the action below. The players looked like action figures from this height, but the roar of the crowd was crystal clear.

"Wow," Rorie breathed, stepping out onto the balcony. The rush of being so close yet so far above the field still amazed her.

Lewis set Lyric down, the toddler immediately racing to the balcony railing, securely designed with little ones in mind.

"Mama, up!" Lyric demanded, his eyes wide with excitement at the bustling stadium below.

She chuckled, scooping up her son. "What do you think, sweetie? Pretty cool, huh?"

As they settled in, a staff member approached. "Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Hamilton, is there anything special you'd like prepared for today's game?"

This was just one of the many perks they enjoyed - personalized service that catered to their every whim. As Lewis discussed some vegan options with the attendant, Rorie sank into one of the plush outdoor seats, Lyric clambering onto her lap.

She couldn't help but marvel at how far they'd come. From watching games on TV in Lewis's bachelor pad to owning a piece of an NFL team and enjoying this incredible view - life had certainly taken some unexpected turns. They were soon joined by other members of the ownership group, including Melody Hobson, a successful businesswoman and friend.

"Lewis, Rorie! So good to see you," Melody greeted them warmly. "And look how big Lyric's getting!"

As kickoff approached, Lewis found himself explaining the basics of American football to Lyric, who was more interested in the colorful uniforms and the massive screens around the stadium.

"See that, Lyric? Those are our guys in the orange," Lewis pointed out.

The game was a nail-biter, with both teams trading leads throughout. In between plays, Lewis chatted with fellow owners about potential team strategies and upcoming decisions. Rorie, meanwhile, was deep in conversation with Melody about balancing career and family life.

As the fourth quarter wound down, the Broncos managed to pull ahead with a last-minute touchdown. The box erupted in cheers, with Lyric joining in, more excited by the adults' reactions than the game itself.

"We won, little man!" Lewis exclaimed. "Can you say 'Go Broncos'?"

"Go Boncos!" Lyric attempted, causing Rorie to laugh.

"Close enough, baby," she said, ruffling his braids.

As the excitement settled, Melody approached them. "Great game, wasn't it? Lewis, have you given any thought to that youth program we discussed?"

Lewis nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. I think it's a fantastic idea. Maybe we can set up a meeting in the new year to flesh out the details?"

"Sounds perfect," Melody agreed. "Enjoy your family time. You've earned it after this season."

As they prepared to leave, Rorie spotted Ciara and Russell Wilson making their way over.

"Rorie! Lewis!" Ciara called out, embracing them both. "It's been too long."

Russell shook Lewis's hand warmly. "Congrats on a good season, man. And thanks for bringing that energy over to us."

They chatted for a few minutes, catching up on family life and recent events.

"We're heading out for pizza," Lewis mentioned. "Care to join us?"

Russell glanced at Ciara, who nodded. "We'd love to, but we've got an early flight tomorrow. Rain check?"

"Absolutely," Rorie agreed. "We'll set something up when we're back from Brazil."

After saying their goodbyes, Lewis, Rorie, and Lyric made their way to their favorite vegan pizza place in L.A. As they settled into a cozy booth, Lyric coloring contentedly, Lewis and Rorie finally had a moment to discuss their upcoming trip.

"So, Brazil," Lewis began, a smile playing on his lips. "I was thinking we could start in Rio, spend a few days there before heading to that secluded beach house in Bahia."

Rorie's eyes lit up. "That sounds perfect. Lyric will love the beach."

"Beach!" Lyric chimed in, clearly recognizing the word.

Lewis chuckled. "That's right, buddy. Lots of sand and waves for you to play in."

As their pizza arrived, they continued to plan their trip, discussing potential activities and places to visit.

"Oh, and I was thinking," Lewis added, lowering his voice slightly, "maybe we could have a few days just to ourselves? I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind watching Lyric for a bit."

Rorie raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Sir Hamilton, are you suggesting we sneak away for a romantic getaway?"

"Maybe," Lewis grinned. "After the year we've had, I think we deserve it, don't you?"

Rorie leaned in, kissing him softly. "I couldn't agree more."

"Is that right?" he whispered against her lips, being mindful of their impressionable toddler just a few feet away. "Are you going to f-u-c-k me like that one time during our honeymoon?"

Rorie’s eyes widened in recollection as they parted. "Oh, you mean with the ‘cuffs?" Her husband bit his bottom lip, nodding vigorously. "Maybe…as long as I can bring the new toy we’ve yet to use."

"You mean the–"

"Yes, exactly that and something else I bought just for you. Something with leather…"

Lewis’ mouth tilted into a mischievous grin. "I love winter break so much."

As they continued to enjoy their meal, the conversation flowed easily from travel plans to reflections on the past year and hopes for the future. The stress of the F1 season, the drama with Deja, and the challenges they'd faced seemed to melt away in the warmth of family time.

Later, as they drove home with a sleepy Lyric in the back seat, Lewis reached over and took Rorie's hand.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?" Rorie asked, squeezing his hand.

"For everything. For being my rock, for giving me this beautiful family, for just... being you."

Rorie smiled, her eyes glistening slightly in the dim light. "Always, babe. We're in this together, remember?" Her eyes softened as she looked at her husband. "And speaking of being in this together... I've been thinking about what Dr. Chen said. About trying for another baby through IVF."

Lewis's breath caught slightly. "You have?"

"Yeah," Rorie said, her voice gentle. "I know it's been tough, but I think we're ready. If you are, that is."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on Rorie's hand. "I think I am," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe... maybe we could start the process after we get back from Brazil?"

Rorie smiled, bringing his hand to her lips for a soft kiss. "I think that sounds perfect."

Lewis nodded, a mix of emotions playing across his face. "It won't be easy, but we've faced tougher challenges together."

"We have," Rorie agreed. "And just think, this time next year, we could be celebrating the holidays with a new addition to our family."

They got out of the car, carefully lifting a sleeping Lyric from his car seat. Lewis cradled Lyric close to his chest, feeling the weight of their decision.

"You know," he said softly, "no matter what happens, you and Lyric are more than enough. You're everything to me."

"And you're everything to us," she whispered back.

A few days later, Rorie found herself in the heart of downtown Los Angeles, stepping out of a sleek black car onto the red carpet of a FWRD event. The evening air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled against the darkening sky.

Rorie smoothed down her outfit - a stunning, form-fitting black dress from the latest FWRD collection, paired with strappy heels and minimalist jewelry. Her hair was swept into an elegant bun, and her makeup was flawless, emphasizing her natural beauty.

As she made her way down the carpet, camera flashes erupted around her. Rorie smiled and posed, years of experience allowing her to navigate the media gauntlet with grace.

"Rorie! Over here!"

"Mrs. Hamilton, a moment please!"

"Rorie, who are you wearing tonight?"

She answered a few quick questions, her responses polished and warm. "I'm excited to be here supporting FWRD and their incredible new collection," she said to one reporter. "Fashion has always been a passion of mine, and FWRD continues to push boundaries in the industry."

Inside the venue, the atmosphere was electric. The space had been transformed into a chic, modern wonderland, with avant-garde installations showcasing the latest FWRD pieces. Rorie mingled with other celebrities, fashion insiders, and influencers, her natural charisma shining through in every interaction.

As she sipped on a glass of champagne, Rorie caught sight of her reflection in a nearby mirror. She looked every inch the successful, confident woman she was, but her mind couldn't help but wander to Lewis and Lyric at home, and the possibility of expanding their family. It was a balancing act, this life of glamour and domesticity, but one she navigated with increasing skill and appreciation.

The event began to wind down, and Rorie found herself reflecting on the night's significance. This was their last big event before heading off to Brazil for their family vacation. The excitement of their upcoming trip mingled with the lingering buzz of the fashion world.

Saying her goodbyes, Rorie stepped out into the cool night air. In the back of her town car, she kicked off her heels with a sigh of relief. She pulled out her phone, smiling at a text from Lewis:

Hope you had a great night. Can't wait to see you.

As the car wound its way through the LA streets, Rorie's mind drifted to their impending lawsuit, set for April of next year. It felt far away, yet ever-present in her thoughts. She made a mental note to touch base with Julian before they left for Brazil.

Arriving home, Rorie quietly made her way upstairs. She peeked into Lyric's room, her heart swelling at the sight of her peacefully sleeping son. Then, she slipped into her own bedroom, where Lewis was still awake, scrolling through his phone.

"Hey, beautiful," he said, looking up with a smile. "How was the event?"

Rorie sat on the edge of the bed, starting to remove her jewelry. "It was great. Lots of networking, and Kendall even mentioned a potential capsule collection with FWRD."

Lewis's eyes lit up. "That's fantastic, babe. You deserve it."

As Rorie unzipped her dress, she added, "I was thinking about the lawsuit on the way home. Should we check in with Julian before we leave?"

Lewis nodded, his expression turning serious. "Good idea. We can give him a call tomorrow. But for now," he patted the bed beside him, "let's focus on us. I miss you."

Rorie tossed her dress onto the chair, a playful glint in her eye as she caught Lewis's gaze. "Oh, you miss me, huh?" she teased, stepping closer to the bed in nothing but her lingerie. The way Lewis’s eyes darkened with desire made her feel powerful, and she decided to make the most of it.

Lewis leaned back against the pillows, his grin widening as he watched her. "You know I do," he replied, his voice low and smooth, filled with anticipation.

Rorie moved slowly, deliberately, letting the moment build. She unclasped her bra and let it slip from her shoulders, tossing it aside with a mischievous smile. "Maybe I miss you too," she said, her voice soft and teasing, as she slid under the covers next to him.

Lewis's hands were on her the moment she was within reach, his touch firm yet gentle as he pulled her closer. "Is that so?" he murmured against her ear, his breath warm on her skin.

Rorie giggled softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as she straddled him. "Mmhmm," she hummed, leaning down to brush her lips against his in a feather-light kiss. She loved the way he looked at her, as if she were the only person in the world, and she intended to make him feel the same way tonight.

Their kisses deepened, growing more intense as Lewis's hands roamed over her body, tracing the lines of her curves with fervent desire. Rorie felt a familiar heat building between them, her skin tingling at every touch and caress.

Lewis flipped them over effortlessly, his strong arms easily pinning her beneath him as he continued to kiss her deeply. "I've been going crazy thinking about you all night," he whispered against her lips, his voice rough and eager.

A smile tugged at the corners of Rorie's mouth as she ran her hands down his back, feeling the muscles tense under her touch. "Then why are we still wasting time talking?"

Without hesitation, Lewis shed his own clothing before returning to hover over her, their bodies pressed together in perfect synchronization. Agonizingly slow, Lewis positioned himself between her legs and gradually entered her, eliciting a low moan from Rorie's throat. Every inch of their bodies melded together now, their movements becoming more frantic and frenzied with each passing moment.

Her nails dug into Lewis's back, leaving faint red marks as she urged him on. She couldn't get enough of him, her body craving his touch again and again. Lewis's movements became more urgent, his hips thrusting harder and faster as he neared his release. Rorie's moans grew louder, her body arching up to meet his every move. She was close too, her skin flushed and her eyes half-lidded with desire.

"Just like that, don't stop, baby," she gasped, her voice filled with need and desire. "I'm so close."

"Fuck, baby," Lewis groaned, his fingers digging into Rorie's hips as he increased his pace. He was so close now, and he could feel Rorie trembling beneath him.

With one final thrust, they both reached their climax together, their bodies shuddering and crashing against each other in waves of ecstasy. Lewis collapsed onto the bed next to Rorie, both of them panting and trying to catch their breath.

"That was..." Rorie trailed off, unable to find the words to describe how amazing it felt.

"Unbelievable," Lewis finished for her with a satisfied grin. He rolled onto his side, pulling Rorie closer to him as they lay there in a blissful haze.

Rorie nuzzled her face into Lewis's chest, feeling content and happy in this moment with him. She loved these quiet moments after they made love, when they were just together without any distractions or obligations.

Lewis kissed the top of Rorie's head before pulling away slightly to look at her. "I love you so much," he said softly.

"I love you too," Rorie replied with a smile before leaning up to kiss him again.

They touched down in Rio de Janeiro, where the city’s vibrant energy welcomed them like an old friend. Over the next few days, they immersed themselves in the rhythm of the city, exploring iconic sights and soaking up the atmosphere. They visited the breathtaking Corcovado Mountain, where the towering Christ the Redeemer statue watched over them, and spent time wandering through the colorful steps of Escadaria Selarón. Everywhere they went, the city buzzed with life, providing the perfect backdrop for their family adventures.

Lyric was utterly fascinated by the beaches of Copacabana and Ipanema. His little legs carried him excitedly across the warm sand, chasing after seagulls and marveling at the endless expanse of ocean. Lewis and Rorie took turns running after him, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the surf and the chatter of beachgoers. It was a carefree time, a brief escape from the pressures of the lawsuit and their next phase in expanding their family.

After their time in Rio, they traveled to a secluded beach house in Bahia. Here, the true relaxation began. The private stretch of coastline became their sanctuary, a place where they could unwind and reconnect as a family. Mornings were spent building sandcastles with Lyric, who giggled as the waves knocked them down, and afternoons were for lounging under the sun, the gentle breeze carrying away their worries.

That night, after putting Lyric to bed, Rorie and Lewis found themselves alone in the serene quiet of their beach house. The soft sound of waves crashing outside mixed with the gentle rustle of the warm night breeze filtering through the open windows. Moonlight poured into the room, casting a silvery glow that bathed everything in a soft, intimate light.

Rorie stood before Lewis, her naked body still glistening from the water droplets that clung to her skin after their shared bath. The steam from the bathroom still lingered in the air, carrying with it the faint scent of lavender. Her braids, damp and curly, cascaded over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that made Lewis's breath catch in his throat. She was breathtaking, and in that moment, she was all his.

Without a word, Rorie moved closer to him, her hips swaying slightly with each step. Lewis was already seated at the edge of the bed, his eyes dark with desire, following her every movement. His hands rested on his thighs, fingers twitching with anticipation. As she straddled him, her legs on either side of his, he reached out, his hands finding their place on her hips, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together.

Rorie leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a soft, teasing kiss. Lewis groaned softly, his hands gliding up her back, feeling the smoothness of her skin under his fingertips. She could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed as he held himself back, savoring the moment.

She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue slipping past his lips in a slow, sensual dance. Lewis responded eagerly, his hands roaming over her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her that he could touch. His lips trailed down her neck, pressing kisses along her collarbone, tasting the faint saltiness of her skin.

Rorie moaned softly, her body arching into his touch, the heat between them building with each passing second. She could feel him hard beneath her, the evidence of his desire pressing against her thigh. She moved her hips slightly, teasing him, eliciting a low growl from deep within his chest.

"You're going to be the death of me," Lewis murmured against her skin, his voice thick with need.

Rorie smiled, her hands cupping his face, bringing his lips back to hers. "Then let me bring you to life," she whispered, her words a promise.

With a gentle push, she guided him to lie back on the bed, her body following his down until she was atop him, their bodies perfectly aligned. She could feel the heat of him between her legs, the ache of desire that pulsed through her, begging for release. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, a soft gasp escaping her lips as he filled her completely.

"Jesus Christ, baby." Lewis's hands gripped her hips, guiding her as she began to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that drove them both wild. "Yes, ride this dick, baby. Fuck…"

Rorie's head fell back, her long bohemian knotless braids spilling down her back as she rode him, the pleasure building with each thrust. The feel of him inside her, the way his hands caressed her body, sent shivers down her spine. "Shit, Lewis....mmhmmm..."

Their movements became more urgent, the rhythm faster, more desperate. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their heavy breathing, the soft moans and gasps that escaped them both. Rorie leaned forward, her hands braced against his chest, her lips finding his once more as they moved together, their bodies in perfect sync.

But just as their passion reached its peak, they heard a tiny voice at the door. "Mama? Dada?"

They froze, their eyes widening in surprise. Lyric stood in the doorway, clutching his stuffed bunny, looking at them with innocent curiosity.

Rorie quickly covered herself, biting back a laugh. "Oh, sweetie, what are you doing up?"

Lyric toddled over to the bed, his eyes wide as he tried to climb up. "Bunny fell," he said simply, holding up the toy.

Lewis couldn’t help but chuckle as he rolled off the bed to put on a pair of boxers. He then scooped up their son, settling him on his hip. "Well, looks like we’ll have to continue this later," he said, giving Rorie a knowing look.

Rorie sighed, glancing at Lyric with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "My parents cannot come fast enough," she muttered, though she couldn’t help but smile at the way Lyric snuggled beside Lewis, oblivious to what he had interrupted.

Lewis grinned, pulling Lyric closer. "We’ll have our time. I’m going to put him back to bed."

As Lewis carried Lyric back to his room, Rorie slipped on a silk robe and followed them. She leaned against the doorframe, watching as Lewis gently tucked their son back into bed.

"There you go, little man," Lewis said softly, placing the bunny next to Lyric. "Bunny's all safe now. Time for sleep, okay?"

Lyric nodded sleepily, his eyes already drooping. "Night, Dada. Night, Mama," he mumbled.

Rorie stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to Lyric's forehead. "Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams."

They quietly left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. In the hallway, Lewis pulled Rorie close, his arms wrapping around her waist.

"Now, where were we?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

Rorie chuckled softly, placing a hand on his chest. "Hold that thought. We should probably make sure he's actually asleep this time."

Lewis groaned playfully but nodded in agreement. They retreated to their bedroom, leaving their door open to listen for any more midnight wanderings from their son.

As they settled back onto the bed, Rorie curled up next to Lewis, her head resting on his chest. "You know," she said, tracing patterns on his skin, "as much as I'm looking forward to some alone time with you, I'm going to miss him when my parents take him for those few days."

Lewis nodded, running his fingers through her hair. "I know what you mean. But it'll be good for us to have that time together, especially before we start the IVF process."

Rorie looked up at him, her eyes soft in the dim light. "Are you nervous about it? The IVF, I mean."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, considering. "A little," he admitted. "But mostly, I'm excited. The thought of giving Lyric a sibling, of expanding our family… it feels right."

Rorie smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. "It does, doesn't it?"

As they lay there, talking softly about their hopes and plans, the interruption from earlier faded into just another cherished moment of parenthood. The night stretched on, filled with quiet laughter and tender touches, a perfect prelude to the adventures that awaited them in the days to come.

_______________________________________________

A few days later, Rorie's parents, Marian and Greg, arrived at the beach house. The Hamiltons welcomed them warmly, grateful for the extra hands with Lyric and the chance to catch up.

One afternoon, as they lounged on the patio enjoying the ocean breeze and some fresh fruit, Marian decided to broach the subject of recent events back home.

"So," Marian began, running a hand through Lyric’s braids, "any news about Martin? Has he tried to contact you guys again?"

Rorie nodded, her expression concerned. "He called a few times last week. Keeps saying he wants to talk to me, to explain himself. What’s happening back at home?"

Greg added, "The paparazzi situation hasn't improved much. They're still camped out near the house most days."

Rorie sighed. "I'm so sorry you're dealing with all this because of me."

"Don't you dare apologize," Marian said firmly. "We're family. We handle these things together."

Lewis reached over and squeezed Rorie's hand. "Your mom's right. And we'll figure out how to deal with Martin and the media. We're not letting them ruin our time here."

As they continued to discuss the challenges ahead, Lyric, perched on Marian's lap, happily munched on a piece of mango, oblivious to the adult concerns.

"So, sweetie," Marian cooed at her grandson, changing the subject, "what have you been up to with Mama and Dada?"

Lyric's face lit up. "Mama Dada hug!" he exclaimed, his limited vocabulary conveying the essence of what he'd seen a few nights ago. "A lot!"

Rorie and Lewis exchanged a quick, embarrassed glance. Greg raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Is that so?" Greg chuckled. "Lots of hugging going on, eh?"

Rorie felt her cheeks flush. "Dad, please," she mumbled, while Lewis suddenly became very interested in his drink.

Marian laughed softly, bouncing Lyric on her knee. "Oh, leave them be, Greg. They're young and in love."

Eager to change the subject again, Lewis cleared his throat. "Actually, I've got some news. My 2025 contract with Ferrari is through. I just need to sign to make it official."

The family erupted in excited congratulations, the mood lifting instantly.

"That's fantastic news, Lewis!" Greg exclaimed, clapping him on the back. "Ferrari, huh? That's quite a change."

Marian beamed, "We're so proud of you, dear. Both of you," she added, smiling at Rorie.

"Thanks," Lewis grinned, visibly relaxed now that the news was out. "It's a big move, but I'm ready for the challenge."

Rorie squeezed his hand, her eyes shining with pride. "He's been working so hard for this. I can't wait to see him in that red suit."

"Red! Like Elmo!" Lyric chimed in, making everyone laugh.

"That's right, buddy," Lewis chuckled, ruffling his son's hair. "Daddy's going to be like Elmo."

Greg stood up, stretching. "Well, I think this calls for a celebration. How about we fire up the grill? We've got that fresh fish in the fridge, and I picked up some plantains earlier."

"Ooh, yes!" Rorie agreed enthusiastically. "And I can make that mango salsa you love, Mom."

"Perfect," Marian nodded. "Lewis, why don't you and Greg handle the grill? I know you're vegan, sweetie, but could you grill some vegetables for yourself?"

"Of course," Lewis smiled. "I saw some great-looking bell peppers and zucchini in the kitchen."

As they all moved to start preparing the impromptu celebratory dinner, Lewis scooped up Lyric. "Come on, little man. Want to help Daddy and Grandpa with the grill?"

"Yes! Help!" Lyric clapped his hands excitedly.

The patio soon buzzed with activity. Greg and Lewis stood by the grill, with Greg seasoning the fish and Lewis preparing his vegetables. Lyric "helped" by handing them utensils and watching in fascination as Greg sliced the plantains. In the kitchen, Rorie and Marian chopped fruits and vegetables for the salsa and side dishes, the rhythmic sound of their knives punctuated by laughter as they shared stories.

The afternoon stretched into evening, filled with delicious food, flowing conversation, and the warmth of family. As they sat around the table, enjoying their meal under the starry sky, the worries of paparazzi and complicated family dynamics seemed far away. For now, they were simply a family, celebrating good news and cherishing their time together.

______________________________________

As New Year's Eve approached, Rorie and Lewis prepared for their night out in Salvador. They said goodbye to Lyric, leaving him in the capable hands of his grandparents.

"You two have fun," Marian said, shooing them out the door. "We've got everything under control here."

"Thanks, Mom," Rorie said, giving her a quick hug. "We'll see you next year," she added with a wink.

Rorie and Lewis headed towards the city, and the excitement of the coming celebrations and the promise of new beginnings filled the air. They found themselves in the heart of the historic Pelourinho district, surrounded by music, laughter, and the infectious spirit of Bahia.

Rorie, dressed in a flowing green lace dress that caught the warm breeze, swayed to the rhythm of the samba playing in the square. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, enhanced by the few caipirinhas she'd enjoyed throughout the evening.

"Come on, babe!" she called to Lewis, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. "Dance with me!"

Lewis, sober but caught up in the festive atmosphere, laughed as he allowed Rorie to guide him in the dance. Though he wasn't as fluid as the locals, he moved with the natural grace of an athlete.

"You're getting better at this," Rorie teased, her arms draped around his neck.

Lewis grinned, his hands on her waist. "I've got a good teacher."

As midnight approached, they made their way to the beach where thousands had gathered to watch the fireworks. The crowd was a sea of white, following the Brazilian tradition for good luck in the new year.

"Ten! Nine! Eight!" The countdown began, and Lewis pulled Rorie close.

"Seven! Six! Five!" Rorie's eyes met Lewis's, full of love and anticipation.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Feliz Ano Novo!"

The sky erupted in a dazzling display of fireworks, but Lewis and Rorie were lost in their own world as they shared a deep, passionate kiss.

"Happy New Year, love," Lewis murmured against her lips.

Rorie smiled, her forehead resting against his. "Happy New Year. Here's to new beginnings."

As the celebration continued around them, they stood there on the beach, arms wrapped around each other, watching the fireworks paint the sky. The promise of the year ahead - with all its potential joys and challenges - stretched out before them, but in that moment, they were content to simply be together, savoring the magic of a new year's beginning in this beautiful corner of the world.

"You know," Rorie said, her voice slightly slurred from the drinks, "I think this might be my favorite New Year's Eve ever."

Lewis chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Even better than the one in Aspen?"

Rorie pretended to think for a moment. "Okay, maybe it's a tie. But this one definitely has better weather."

The fireworks faded and the crowd began to disperse, and Lewis and Rorie decided to take a moonlit walk along the beach before heading back to their hotel. The warm sand beneath their feet and the sound of the waves created a perfect end to their night of celebration.

"We should properly celebrate," Rorie murmured, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Especially since we don't have to worry about being interrupted."

Lewis grinned, understanding her meaning immediately, and his hands found their way to her ass. "I like the way you think, Mrs. Hamilton."

Rorie laughed and playfully swatted at his hand. "Not here," she whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby. "You gotta wait until we’re back at the hotel."

When they finally reached the privacy of their hotel room, the door had barely clicked shut behind them before Lewis had Rorie pressed against it, his lips crashing down onto hers in a searing kiss. She responded eagerly, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer as their bodies pressed together.

Lewis's hands roamed over her curves, squeezing her ass as he deepened the kiss. His tongue teased hers, exploring the warmth of her mouth with a skillful rhythm that left her breathless. Rorie moaned softly against his lips, her body tingling with anticipation as her hands worked to unbutton his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest.

Breaking the kiss, she pushed him back just enough to give herself some space, her hands trailing down his torso, appreciating the firm muscles beneath her fingertips. "Get on the bed," she commanded softly, her voice laced with desire.

Lewis grinned, his eyes dark with lust as he obeyed, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes before lying back on the bed. Rorie followed, slowly stripping out of her own clothes, letting each piece drop to the floor in a deliberate, tantalizing manner. She could feel his eyes on her, drinking in every inch of her as she revealed herself to him.

Once she was completely naked, Rorie reached for the small duffle bag they’d packed for the trip, her fingers brushing against the new toy she’d brought along for their special night. She pulled it out—a sleek, remote-controlled clitoral vibrator. The look on Lewis’s face when he saw it made her smile with satisfaction.

Rorie crawled onto the bed, straddling Lewis's thighs as she held up the toy, her eyes locking onto his. "I thought we could finally try this new toy," she said, her voice sultry as she flicked the vibrator on, the soft hum filling the room.

Lewis’s breath hitched, his eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and arousal. "You’re full of surprises tonight," he murmured, his hands sliding up her thighs, gripping her hips as he watched her intently.

Rorie leaned down, kissing him deeply as she guided the toy between her legs, pressing it against her clit. She gasped at the sensation, the gentle vibrations sending pleasure coursing through her body. Lewis groaned against her mouth, clearly enjoying the way she was responding.

She pulled back slightly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she began to ride him, the vibrator nestled between them, heightening the sensation with each movement. Lewis’s hands moved to her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her taut nipples as he thrust up to meet her movements, each motion sending waves of pleasure through her.

The combination of the toy and the feel of Lewis inside her was intoxicating. Rorie’s head fell back, her moans growing louder as she moved faster, her body trembling with the intensity of her arousal. She could feel herself getting closer, the pleasure building to a point where it was almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, you’re amazing," Lewis groaned, his grip on her tightening as he thrust up harder, his dick hitting that perfect spot inside her over and over again. "Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come all over this dick."

"Lewis!" she gasped, her hands clutching his shoulders as the pleasure wracked her body. "Oh, God, I’m coming so hard!"

Rorie finally shattered, her body convulsing as she came, the pleasure washing over her in waves. The vibrator fell to the side as she clung to Lewis, riding out her orgasm until she was spent.

But Lewis wasn’t done. He flipped them over, pinning her beneath him as he thrust into her, his pace relentless as he chased his own release. Rorie could feel him, still rock hard inside her, and the aftershocks of her orgasm made her even more sensitive, every thrust sending sparks of pleasure through her.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her nails digging into his back as he drove them both toward the edge once more. His name was a mantra on her lips, each moan urging him on.

"Fuck, yes," Lewis groaned, thrusting into her one last time before his own release took over, spilling himself deep inside her with a guttural moan. "Rorie, oh fuck…"

They stayed tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat and the remnants of their passion. Lewis pulled Rorie into his arms and held her close as they both caught their breath.

"Holy shit, woman," he murmured against her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Rorie smiled, still feeling the afterglow of their lovemaking. "Worth the wait?" she teased, snuggling closer to him.

"Absolutely," Lewis replied, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "But next time, I’m not waiting until we get back to the hotel. I’m just gonna fuck you on the beach."

Rorie laughed softly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "You’re insatiable."

"For you, always," he said, his hand gently caressing her back as they drifted off to sleep, their hearts full and their bond stronger than ever.

As the first day of January dawned, Deja stood before her bathroom mirror, examining the fading bruises on her body. The assault in late November had left its mark, both physically and emotionally. While the acute pain had subsided, a dull ache remained, a constant reminder of the attack.

Her fingers traced a yellowing bruise on her ribcage as her mind drifted back to that fateful night in New Orleans during the 2017 All-Star weekend. The memories were vivid, almost taunting in their clarity.

The pulsing beat of the club, the electric atmosphere of celebrity and excitement. She remembered the way Lewis had looked at her, or at least how she thought he had looked at her. His smile, the warmth of his hand on her lower back as they danced, the intoxicating mix of his cologne and the whiskey on his breath.

"You're special," she thought she heard him say, the words barely audible over the music. But had he really said it? Or was it just what she wanted to hear?

Deja shook her head, forcing herself back to the present. The attack had thrown a wrench in her plans, forcing her to cancel appearances and partnership deals to focus on healing. It had also planted a seed of paranoia. Who was responsible? The attacker had robbed her, yes, but the beating felt personal. A nagging suspicion that Rorie might be involved refused to leave her mind, though she had no proof. She picked up her phone, scrolling through recent photos of Lewis and Rorie at public events. Their happiness felt like a personal affront, fueling the bitterness that had driven her actions.

The alliance with The Sun and Alexander had seemed like the perfect revenge, a way to shatter the perfect image of the Hamilton family. But now, as she sat alone in her apartment, nursing her injuries and haunted by memories, Deja couldn't help but question her choices.

Her phone buzzed - another message from Alexander, demanding more information. She ignored it at first, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her. The revenge she had sought was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, and the collateral damage to people like Luisa was weighing heavily on her conscience.

But pride and stubbornness kept her from backing down. She had come too far to turn back now. Steeling herself to respond to Alexander, Deja couldn't shake the feeling that she was on a path that would only lead to more pain - for everyone involved.

TO BE CONTINUED…..

[cuubism]

last year I saw this 1989 Dreamling art by @webonchin, became extremely obsessed with it, pondered and mulled over it for much time, and now ten whole months later I have a fic

--

my kingdom for a kiss upon your shoulder

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, 1989 Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Meeting, Musician Dream of the Endless, Stockbroker Hob Gadling, Love at First Sight, Getting Together, New York City, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Queer Themes, Disillusionment, Explicit Sexual Content, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Depression, tfw you meet someone who makes you want to change up your whole life Summary:

Despite Hob's success on Wall Street, life is starting to feel meaningless. Limitless sex, drugs, and money should be endlessly entertaining but instead he's bored, he feels empty, like something's missing.

Something, maybe, like the beautiful, tragic musician he meets at a party, who opens more than one new door in Hob's life--and reawakens the buried longing in his heart.

--

Hob lies on the couch of the crowded apartment he’s found himself in for the evening, head tipped back over the arm. Pounding music thumps distantly around him. Dim lights. Warm bodies moving in blurs. He ignores it all. Picks up his vodka soda from the coffee table and takes a swig. Half of it runs over the side of his mouth instead of into it.

He’s… bored. What’s wrong with him that he’s bored surrounded by as much drugs, sex, and general debauchery as he could possibly want?

But he is. All that climbing for so long and now… he doesn’t know where he is. Why he’s doing any of it. The climb, the growth, was fun for a while. Chasing hunger, chasing more, that was fun. But now he has all of it. Supposedly.

He sighs. Pours the rest of his drink inelegantly into his mouth. If he wants another one he’s going to have to get up. He doesn’t really feel like getting up. He feels like merging himself with the couch instead.

The party spins on around him, as it always does. Not everyone’s feeling as burnt out on sex, drugs, and debauchery as Hob is.

He could go track down some coke, he thinks hazily. Someone here’ll have some. Maybe it would kick his energy back up.

He just feels kind of tired at the thought.

It says something bad about the point he’s reached in life that even cocaine isn’t doing it for him anymore.

“This is very dull,” says a low voice, and a man slumps down beside him, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. He tilts his head back, looking up at Hob. “Do you think so?”

“Yeah,” Hob says, and then does a double take as he catches a proper look at the man.

Christ but he’s gorgeous. Nothing like the men Hob would normally see at a thing like this—nothing like Hob himself—with their fashionable suits, slick hair, slicker smiles. This man is lithe and sprawling, like a wild predator, stark black and white lines, spiky hair, dark makeup, studs flowing down his ears like raindrops. Clever eyes. Long fingers clutching a cocktail that he doesn’t seem particularly interested in.

Hob is instantly fucked.

“I was promised good drugs and better sex and I’m bored on both counts,” the man continues. He takes a sip of his drink, and grimaces.

“That why you’ve come over here?” Hob asks. “Because I looked equally bored?”

“Exactly.” He offers the drink to Hob. “You should try this.”

Hob takes it. It’s… very blue. “What the hell is this?”

“There was a girl working the bar… very drunk. She said she would make me her ‘special potion.’”

That sounds… questionable. Hob takes a sip, and chokes. “Christ.”

“I witnessed her pour in vodka, Prosecco, and tequila. Blue Curaçao—for color, of course. And maraschino cherries.” He plucks one out of the glass by the stem—there are about seven of them total—and eats it.

“What the fuck.” The stuff’s revolting. Hob takes another sip. “That’s alcohol poisoning in a glass.”

“It’s been one of the better parts of the night,” the man says.

Hob returns the glass, and the man tosses more of the drink back, his throat working. Hob’s just drunk enough to not attempt to stop staring like a creep. He wants to ask him if he wants to get out of here, or even just to steal away into one of the many spare bedrooms—it wouldn’t be out of place at a party like this, hell, Hob could drag him into his lap on the fucking couch, everyone’s far too drunk to care—but propositioning this creature for a mere hookup feels like wearing an Italian suit to mud wrestle. What a waste of a perfectly-made thing.

How did something like this wind up at this party?

“Who’d you come in with?” he asks, as the man plucks another cherry from the glass and delicately bites it off the stem.

“Someone who gave me a rather mediocre blowjob after a show,” he says. “I suppose I thought I would find better here, but I was mistaken.”

“Fifty-fifty shot on that, I’d say,” Hob says. Based on personal experience. Sometimes mediocre is good enough. Sometimes sex, regardless of quality, is good enough. For a while it has been. He’s not so sure anymore.

“I dislike betting,” says the man. Then stretches up a limp hand to shake Hob’s. “If we are to commiserate, perhaps names are in order. I am Morpheus.”

Morpheus. What kind of name. Though he had said at a show. A performer of some kind? “Hob,” says Hob, shaking his hand despite the awkward angle.

“Greetings,” says Morpheus solemnly. “You are the first man I’ve met tonight who has not tried to impress me with inanities. I am indebted to you.”

Hob tips his head back against the arm of the couch again with a sigh. “Too tired for bullshit. What’ve people been saying to you, then?”

“I have been taught much,” Morpheus says seriously. “Thrice I have been ‘educated’ on the great promise of ‘mortgage-backed securities.’ The reactions to my disinterest ranged from offense to outright concern for my sanity.”

“I think they were just trying to get in your pants,” Hob tells him.

Morpheus frowns. “The finance lecture was not helping their case. In fact, with each passing minute, I became more aggressively repelled.”

Hob laughs. “You’re on Wall Street, baby,” he says. It comes out kind of slurred. “Only thing more important than the size of a man’s dick is the size of his portfolio.”

Morpheus hums in consideration. “Neither of those has a direct correlation to talent.”

“Try telling them that,” Hob says.

Morpheus sits up straighter against the couch, leaning his head on his arm to study Hob. “I suppose I should ask about yours.”

“You’re too pretty for me to be tacky like that,” Hob says honestly. Maybe he’s a bit more drunk than he thought.

“Am I?” Morpheus seems pleased.

“So pretty.”

“Hmm.” Morpheus rests his cheek on the couch cushion. The tips of his hair brush Hob’s hip. His eyes are so liquid in this light. Hob wonders if he’s hallucinating his existence.

He reaches out, mesmerized, to touch Morpheus’s hair. Morpheus doesn’t stop him. He lets Hob pet him, eyes falling shut. His hair is tacky on the ends with hair spray, but soft underneath.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Hob says, and Morpheus hums. “All those self-important stockbrokers trying to impress you with their convoluted financial instruments… they just want to hide that it’s all really a scam.”

“Is it now?” says Morpheus. “I was under the assumption it was legal.”

“Something can be a scam and technically legal. Oh, it’s all very clever. But it’s just building money on top of money with nothing real to support it. Kick out the base of the tower and it’ll all go into free fall.” He makes a whistling, falling sound, and Morpheus smirks.

“And I suppose you are better than all this.”

Hob chuckles. “Oh, no. I’m a money-grubbing little vermin, too. Just letting you in on the game. How it’s not so serious.”

“Hmm. I am a musician,” says Morpheus. As Hob figured, then. “I’m afraid it’s as serious as death.”

“Hence the all-black ensemble and the makeup,” Hob says.

“Indeed.”

Hob wants to hear Morpheus play. Or sing, or whatever it is he does. He bets he’d be exquisite. Divine. Hob can imagine those lips pressed to a microphone. Or those long fingers on guitar strings.

“Do you want something more interesting than alcohol?” says Morpheus.

“Why, you still bored?”

“Less and less so.” He pulls from his pocket a small bag of pills and hands it to Hob.

“You brought your own drugs to a party where you were promised drugs?”

“Promises cannot be counted on,” says Morpheus seriously.

“What is it?” Hob asks, then decides he doesn’t care, and takes a pill, chasing it with the watery last drops of his drink, which is a terrible idea, but then, he’s full of them.

“Ketamine,” says Morpheus. Oh, great, Hob thinks. Morpheus takes it back from him and takes a pill himself. “It occasionally makes me feel less like I am going to hurl myself from the balcony.”

He doesn’t seem to be joking. “Good for something, then,” Hob says. “Why do you want to jump off the balcony?” He still has his hand in Morpheus’s hair. He honestly can’t believe he hasn’t propositioned him yet. That’s not like him. These parties are usually only good for quick, casual sex. He even thinks Morpheus would probably agree, and yet.

“The state of things,” says Morpheus. He has such a deep, solemn voice. Hob wants to touch his mouth, or throat maybe. Okay, this is already not going so well. “And the state of my heart.”

Hob pets his hair again. Morpheus leans into the touch. “Writing songs about yearning and angst and stuff isn’t fixing it?” He can well enough guess what Morpheus’s music is probably like.

“No,” says Morpheus. He seems to really think about it. “I think it is making things worse. Perhaps I will try manipulating the financial markets instead. Is that giving you existential fulfillment?”

“There’s only so much money you can make before it starts feeling stupid,” Hob says. Maybe he should just throw all his cash out the window and go live in the woods or something. Carve figurines out of fallen trees. Probably do more good for the world, not that that’s ever been a focus of his. “Maybe it was always stupid.”

“No solution has been found for us yet, then,” says Morpheus. “Would you care to go outside? I find that if you are high enough, the city lights look like stars.”

“You’re not going to jump off the balcony, are you?” Hob asks, suspicious.

“This is not the right locale for my dramatic end.”

Somehow, Hob actually believes him. Morpheus wouldn’t truly kill himself unless it could have the right effect.

Hob levers himself up from the couch. Oh Jesus, now the room is spinning. The pounding music is starting to feel louder, starting to thud through him. Feels good, though. Everything being bright and hazy.

He helps Morpheus to his feet. Leads him, hand in hand, out to the balcony. They lean against the stone wall, looking down at the street, dizzyingly far below, cars poking along like lines of luminescent ants, distant horns crying. Then up, out at the collision of skyscrapers.

Morpheus was right. The lights are spinning and twinkling, just like stars. It reminds Hob of the first time he’d come to New York, when he was looking for adventure, and to get a little rich—or a lot rich—and everything had seemed like it was glowing and buzzing and flying.

The air is clearer up here than down on street level, and Morpheus tips his head up, breathing it in. His throat is so long, his shoulders and collarbone so angular. He looks like he’s been starving. But the stud in his ear at least looks from afar like a real ruby. Intentional, then, to be skin and bones.

“I think I am tired,” he admits, still looking up at the sky. “Do you know that… all I had ever wanted was for someone to like my music. And now I have that and it has not fixed anything.”

Hob takes his arm and pulls him close. He’s feeling very touchy-feely now, which could be the drugs but could also just be Morpheus. He’s so pretty and he looks so sad, and his sadness is beautiful and all the more terrible for that.

“I could kiss it better,” he offers. It’s still not a real proposition. Hob’d just kiss his hand if that’s what he wanted. Or the sharp bone of his sternum under those hanging necklaces. Or kneel at his feet and kiss his thigh—

Christ. Hob’ll be lucky if he survives the night, at this rate.

Morpheus looks at him, eyebrow raised. But Hob must look serious about it, because he says, “Okay.”

So Hob leans in and kisses his cheek. And Morpheus smiles, a bright, truly happy smile, just for a moment.

“Do you wish to dance?” he says. “I do not usually, but I feel I may fall over if I move from this wall without something to hold onto.”

Yeah, the floor is kind of moving. And Hob will certainly not turn down having Morpheus in his arms. “You wanna dance to this shit?”

They’re playing some godawful thumping grating song over the speakers now, and Hob doesn’t think either of them is up to the kind of bouncing thrashing dance that would call for.

“I will sing something different in your ear,” Morpheus says.

So Hob draws him in, wraps his arms around his waist. Morpheus plasters himself to Hob’s body, mouth to the shell of Hob’s ear. He starts humming a low, melancholic song. Hob shivers at the brush of his voice.

They sway together with very little coordination. Eventually Morpheus starts singing, though Hob’s brain isn’t capable at the moment of taking in many of the lyrics. It’s something about longing, and losing things in a terrible fire. Hob presumes it’s one of his songs. Morpheus’s voice is gorgeous, low and hypnotic, and Hob closes his eyes as it rumbles straight through him.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs eventually, filled with a sudden tragic pain about it. “Please don’t throw yourself off the balcony.”

Morpheus chuckles. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Never,” Hob says vehemently, and clutches his warm body close. He might cry about it. Fucking drugs. “We should go get food. You’re so fucking bony I think might you die of an overdose if we don’t sop it up. You had that wretched drink, too. Christ.”

“You are worried for me?” says Morpheus, sounding touched.

“Incredibly. Come on.” Hob finally pulls away from him, with chagrin, and takes his hand. “This party’s shit. I’ll take you to get pizza.”

“Pizza,” Morpheus repeats, with a tiny smile. It’s gorgeous on his face. “Very well.”

--

One dollar pizza is one of New York’s greatest inventions, in Hob’s opinion. They find some hole-in-the-wall place barely a block from the apartment building, and stand outside the door, eating incredibly greasy pizza off of paper plates, and it’s fucking heaven. It might be the best pizza Hob’s ever had in his life—granted he’s still very high.

Morpheus is scarfing his down like all pizza on earth is about to be chucked into space. Poor bony thing. Hob just wants to feed him up until he stops looking like a skeletal waif that’s about to drop dead at a cold breeze.

And wants to fuck him, too. Yeah, that’s still there, even with Morpheus licking grease off his fingertips. It’s actually getting worse because of that.

“Told you,” Hob says. “Needed some bread to soak up the fifteen shots in that drink.”

“I think I may throw up,” Morpheus says, with the careful articulation of someone who very well might. “But I am enjoying it nonetheless.”

“Let me know and I’ll find you a bin,” Hob says. He’s had worse nights than puking on the street corner.

“Now I owe you sexual favors in return for this generous meal,” says Morpheus, folding the empty paper plate with surprising precision, considering his enduring level of intoxication, and sliding it into a nearby trash bin.

It says something about Hob’s own level of intoxication that he barely responds to this statement. “Oh, yeah, the whole four dollars of it. What does that get me?”

Morpheus scrunches his nose in thought. “Two kisses,” he decides.

“We’ll save it for after you’ve decided if you’re going to throw up.”

Morpheus giggles. He’s so cute.

Hob tosses his own plate, and takes Morpheus by the arm. “Come on. You can come back with me. I don’t live that far.”

“Ah, now the proposition,” says Morpheus, but doesn’t sound unhappy about it.

“The ‘make sure my new friend doesn’t get hit by a cab effort’, more like, but sure.” He feels kind of responsible for Morpheus now. If Morpheus actually threw himself off a balcony Hob would never forgive himself.

“Friend,” repeats Morpheus, sounding pleased.

“See, isn’t this better?” Hob says.

“Better?”

“You got to eat pizza and didn’t even puke yet, isn’t that better than killing yourself?”

Morpheus huffs. “Quite a dichotomy. If you recall you too stated that you felt your efforts becoming meaningless.”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna jump out a window about it.”

“Fortitude,” Morpheus says, and it sounds mocking but Hob doesn’t really mind. Maybe it is fortitude, he doesn’t know. Maybe to Morpheus fortitude is gullibility, continuing to play the game when it’s long lost its spark and its reward. Hob likes the game, though.

“What will you do about it, then?” Morpheus asks.

“Dunno.” It’s the first time Hob’s really thought about it. Up until now, it’s been about chasing. Always wanting more. But now— now he’s basically at the top. Where he wanted to be. And... there’s really nothing there at all. “Leave New York, maybe.”

The words surprise him, even as he says them. Midtown is so bright, even at four a.m. It’s something Hob once loved about the area. About the city. But now he’s staring into Morpheus’s darkness. Into the ink stain of his hair against the glowing storefront lights, the sway of his body, graceful even while swimming in dissociation. And everything feels different.

“To go where?” says Morpheus.

“Back to London, maybe.” He has enough money to go anywhere. And yet, it’s hard to feel a particular point to anywhere. Where’d his sense of adventure go? His ambition? Somewhere it all slipped, in the glut of the present.

“I grew up in London,” Morpheus says. “It is too personal there, now.”

So he’s chasing something too. Or running away.

“Tokyo, then,” Hob says, as if Morpheus coming with him is a key part of the decision. “Is’at the furthest city from New York? Gotta be close.”

“It’s Perth,” says Morpheus.

“You’ve looked it up?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. “And from London: Wellington.”

“It’s settled, then,” says Hob.

“I am coming with you?” says Morpheus.

“Course.” Hob’s not going across the world by himself. Not anymore. He bumps his shoulder with Morpheus’s, squeezes his arm where they’re leaning together. “You’re coming with me.”

“We should go further, then,” says Morpheus.

“Antarctica?”

“Mars.”

Hob finds himself giggling, mirth rising in him like champagne bubbles. Morpheus giggles, too. It’s truly a ridiculous sound in his deep voice.

“They don’t have cool jackets on Mars,” Hob says, poking at Morpheus’s studded blazer.

“Ah.” Morpheus frowns. “Maybe not, then.”

That only makes Hob laugh louder, leaning on Morpheus’s arm, and Morpheus sighs, irritated to be made fun of, but doesn’t push him away.

“Come on, I’m here,” Hob says, steering Morpheus into his apartment building as it comes up. They make their way across the lobby and to the elevator bank, only a little unsteady, and then slump against the wall once the elevator doors close.

“I think I am very sleepy,” Morpheus says, tipping his head back against the mirrored wall as they go up, up, up the insanely tall skyscraper Hob’s for some reason chosen to live in.

“You think you are?”

Morpheus squints at the infinite tunnel being created by the opposing mirrors on the walls. It’s dizzying, more so now, when they aren’t exactly sober. He shudders and closes his eyes. “I would have to be connected to my physical form to know for sure.”

Yeah, Hob’s feeling that too. The walls are kind of tipping in at him, which is particularly uncomfortable when they’re mirrored. “I’ll put you to bed, sweetie.” He still really, really wants to bed him, more specifically, but he might also be about to fall over. He’ll rue the missed opportunity in the morning, but it can’t be helped.

“Sweetie,” Morpheus echoes, with vague distaste, and tips his head against Hob’s shoulder.

The doors slide open, and they stumble out into the hall. Hob somehow manages to get his keys in the door and get them inside without dropping Morpheus, who’s now using him to support almost his entire weight, and then gets them into the bedroom.

What follows is a dreamlike whirlwind of undressing, where the floor keeps tipping under him, where he tries to hold Morpheus up as he slips out of his boots and his bloody complicated jacket, his skintight jeans and even tighter shirt, helps take each ring off his slim fingers to leave carefully on the nightstand, and the pendants too, and gives him a t-shirt to sleep in, and Morpheus says, “Wait— I must—” and flees to Hob’s adjoining bathroom to strip off his makeup with some makeup wipes scavenged from Hob’s cabinet, undoubtedly left behind by a prior hookup. The silly thing talks about killing himself but still puts effort into skincare. Hob just shakes his head, then regrets it as it makes the room spin.

He strips down to boxers and undershirt and climbs into bed, because he is actually about to fall over, and soon enough Morpheus stumbles back out and collapses into the sheets beside him. For a moment they just gaze at each other in the dark. Hob means to do something, to kiss him, maybe, claim one of the ones that was promised. But exhaustion claims him first. 

[cornyonmains]

I really think we're seeing a very clear path laid out for how Deadpool is going to be integrated into the MCU via Deadpool and Wolverine, and here's why.

If you subscribe to the theory that Peter Parker is the anchor being, then it's important to recognize that Peter is completely adrift, without family, friends, or guidance, trying to survive as a teenage renter in NYC. He's going to be isolated and struggling right as Doom, who's likely to be a Tony Stark variant, enters the scene. The emotional conflict writes itself.

I could see the TVA setting Wade and Logan in Spider-Man's path. Bizarrely enough, Wade would likely have a somewhat positive impact on Peter, because Deadpool, unlike any other adult character in the MCU, respects the absolute fuck out of Spider-Man. This would be something Peter really needs to hear at a time when he thinks his moral code took away everyone he loved.

Logan, he's more of a wildcard for me, but he's likely the key to getting mutants into the sacred timeline. I have this tinfoil hat theory introducing Logan and Spider-Man might be important, because Spider-Man might end up coming to him later on down the road if he starts mutating, which could compel Wade to get him into the timeline with mutants for help from Professor X. Also, I don't think the writers would want to miss a chance to introduce Logan to another character whose mouth runs as much as Wade. Comedy gold.

If Loki wanted to merge the timelines, an anchor being, a mutant, and a man who was enlightened with such knowledges of his universe it drove him to homicidal dimension hopping madness would definitely be one way of doing it. The ingredients are there, but R-Rated properties are uncharted territory in the MCU. If Disney was doing well right now, I wouldn't even consider this a possibility, but they're getting desperate, and that motivates change.

Guess we'll see. All I know is I am not paying top dollar to go see a PG-13 movie at almost 40 years old. The Ren Fair runs 2 months in my state every summer. You want me in a movie theatre instead, then I demand sin.

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Sukunaxreader smut, penetration, multiple positions, dominant Sukuna! , unprotected sex, pet names, Sexual theme, Adult theme, talking her through it, <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>

Authur's Note→ 18 and Under, GET TA STEPPIN! I know for sure this will be broken into parts, however I'm not sure how many parts will be to this. I just decided to get back into writing little dabbles here and there so I'm honestly just testing the waters with this. Slightly proofread (English is my first language, but even the baddest of Bitches still make mistakes! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯) I do hope you guys enjoy! 🤎

Synopsis: You’ve decided that you would begin your fitness journey. Accompanying your best friend, today’s the day where you’ll being taking working out and going to the gym seriously (well kind of). Lacking motivation and ready to go back home to lounge around to watch some TV and pig out, that all changes when suddenly you meet this drop dead gorgeous as hell man. Will he be the inspiration you need to continue your new lifestyle?

w.c» 2.1 K

“Sis, I love you I do, but the gym life isn’t meant for someone like me.” You panted out.

You weren’t sure why the sudden urge to accompany your best friend to the gym came about. Maybe it was because you were tired of always feeling burned out, sluggish and lazy. Possibly because you seen how fit, and fucking sexy, your best friend was getting after starting her fitness journey a while back. Whatever the reason, it went out the window the moment you set foot inside the gym complex with her and tried, very pathetically, to keep up with the routine she’d developed for herself. 

“Fuck this,” you thought, “I’d rather be home eating ice cream while watching Flavor of Love.” 

“See, that’s your problem right there. Rather be watching old TV shows and being lazy then getting your sexy on.” She fired back at you making you realize the last thought was actually out loud. You rolled your eyes playfully before glancing back over to her. 

 Both you and your best friend were on the treadmill walking at an incline with the speed up more that you would have liked. She was barely breaking a sweat, having gotten comfortable on the machine while jamming out to her workout playlist. She had on a two-piece workout set, showing off her toned stomach and big ass. You glanced around the gym, catching a few of the men every now and then peeking over at her, trying to get her attention. 

You on the other hand, you were barely making it. Panting like a dog in heat, your workout set you borrowed from her was sweated out, and your puff was starting to frizz out from all the sweating going on in your head. You could only imaged how you may have looked to everyone else inside the gym.

“C’mon Jade, I applaud you for your fitness journey but obviously I’m not ready, I should have at least started off slow so I could get used to it.” You whined out. She snorted out a laugh while throwing you a look. 

“Oh no ma’am, I tried to do that for you, but you were the one that said you could keep up.” She said as a matter of fact. All you could do was huff in annoyance at her response, because she was right. You figured anything she could do you would’ve been able to. You assumed it wouldn’t have been that bad, but you quickly seen the lie in that. 

“Whatever.” You mumbled as she smiled triumphantly, knowing she won the argument. 

“I’m not even tripping,” You began, “I’m about to get my unfit ass off this treadmill and head home, take a shower and be lazy.” You said determined. 

“Seriously Y/n? We’ve barely been here for forty-five minutes.” She looked at you with a judgemental look. You promised, no matter how much you might’ve complained, to see it through and finish the workout. But fuck that, Flavor of Love and a tube of ice cream was calling your ass. 

“Nah sis, I tap out. And there’s nothing or no one that’s gonna make me change my mi-”

“Uh excuse me miss?” 

You heard a deep, baritone voice sound off behind you. Startled, you whipped your head around to tell off the person for interrupting your monologue only to be stopped dead in your tracks with the sight before you. 

There stood a man, looking like the epitome of a gym God. You were met with a chiseled face, a smirk etched across his features. Sharp, bold crimson red eyes that stared down at you with a glint of amusement and playfulness. He graced you with his shirt off showing his toned washboard abs, littered with tattoos and sweat cascading down his torso, all the way down to his deep V-line. Gray gym shorts that hung dangerous low off his hips, not missing the way he was flexing his sculptured legs. Along with huge forearms that were decorated with dark line tattoos as well. 

In the mist of eye fucking the man, you briefly forgot you were on a moving treadmill, almost busting your ass in front of him and the whole gym. Before making a fool of yourself, he caught you just as you were about to fall off. Wrapping his huge forearms around your waist, securing you in place.

“Woah, you alright ma?” He asked. You looked up to his face, seeing his eyebrows furrow in concern. You also caught the sweat dripping, oh so deliciously off the tip of his nose, resisting the sudden urge to reach up and poke the tip of your tongue out to catch it. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” You thought to yourself.

You gulped as you stared into deep into his crimson eyes, becoming entranced by them. He shook you lightly to capture your attention again.

 “Hey, you sure you good?” He asked again. He wrapped his arms around you tighter while staring back into your eyes waiting on a response. 

“Y/n, girl say something.” Your best friend broke the silence. You gasped and looked down, becoming embarrassed by your actions.

“Oh yea, I’m good, thank you for catching me.” You answered timidly. 

Being plushed against his chest, you melted like puddy feeling the vibrations coming off from his deep chuckle at your response. 

“Good, wouldn’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you hurting herself.” He answered with a smirk. 

You looked up at him shocked, making his smirk deepen. 

“Maybe being at the gym wasn’t so bad.” You thought. 

“I hate to break up this lil’ love session, but we were in the middle of working out. While at least I was, my friend here was getting ready to lea-” Jade started before you cut her off abruptly. 

“Oh uh yea, I actually was about to get off the treadmill and head over to start on the stair master.” You found yourself saying, trying to give off the impression you come to the gym all the time. Without having to look back at your best friend you know she was giving you a “Bitch, are you serious” look into the back of your head, so much so it made your scalp start itching.

The man, still with his arms around you, let out a deep laugh this time. 

“Is that so ma? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you seem like you was struggling on this treadmill.” He said with a hint of playfulness in his voice. His response caught you off-guard while it made Jade throw her head back, cackling. Caught red handed, you chuckled lightly. 

“Was it that obvious?” You asked, not realizing you placed your hands on-top of his forearms while standing comfortably in his embrace, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He smiled down at your while unconsciously giving you a light squeeze. 

“Yea that and your panting, I could hear you over the speakers ma.” He joked causing your to groan in embarrassment. Despite the awkwardness of him catching you in a lie, you both stay in your current position, neither of you moving. Only deepening the stare you both were committed in. Your best friend looked between you and the mysterious man. Dispelling whatever magnetic charm you both had each other captivated in, Jade cleared her through signaling both of you to gaze in her direction. 

“Not trying to be rude or anything, but what exactly was your reasoning for coming over?” Jade got straight to the point. Even though she knew the answer to it. Despite your own thoughts over your appearance, you were drop dead gorgeous. From you bra-length natural hair, medium brown complexion, big doe eyes, plush lips and a curvaceous body, Stevie Wonder could even see how fine you were. You just had to get out of your head about your looks. But Jade knew that was easier said that done, otherwise you wouldn’t have forced yourself to accompany her to the gym. However seeing how transfixed you’ve become around this guy, she was more than glad that you did tag along. 

“Oh uh right, well I seen how hard of a time she was having with the treadmill, I just wanted to come over and suggest a few pointers.” The man stated. He wasn’t lying, that was part of his reason for coming over. The other part was to introduce himself to you. He noticed you the moment you and your best friend walked inside the gym and was immediately hooked. He knew without a doubt he wasn’t leaving this gym until he at least got your name, and hopefully your number. 

“Oh how sweet of you.” Jade said playfully when an idea popped inside of her mind. She threw a cheshire cat smile at the both of you before continuing her statement. 

“Seeing that you want to make sure Y/n is doing the workouts correctly, why don’t you guys start coming to the gym together.” She said with a glint in her eyes.

“If motivation is what you want”, Jade thought to herself, he’s definitely all the motivation you need Y/n.” 

You whipped your head around almost giving yourself whiplash, looking at your best friend as if she just lost her mind. From the looks of the guy, he took his workouts serious. You barely kept up with Jade, why in the hell did she think you would be able to keep up with him?

You were getting ready to shoot down the idea when he began talking. 

“I don’t mind ma, that’s if you’re up to it?” He asked hopeful. He was silently thanking your best friend for being his voluntary wingman in assisting a chance for him to see you again. You turned back to face him, meeting his hopeful stare and small smile, giving you all the push you needed to slowly nod your head yes at the proposal. His smile deepened as he squeezed you once more. Realizing you were still in his arms, his actions caused you to gasp slightly, making Jade chuckle at the interaction. 

“Cool, I work out pretty much everyday around eight at night, so whatever day works best for you ma, I’m available.” He stated as he looked down into your light brown, doe eyes. He couldn’t help but image how they would be closed slightly, hooded with lust as he pinned you under him while he thrusted deep ins-

“Sure, uhm how about this Wednesday night? That’ll work best.” You cut off his thoughts with your proposal. Coughing as he blushed from his vivid thoughts, he nodded in acknowledgement. Hell, you could’ve said to meet up on Mars at the eleventh hour to workout, he would’ve made damn sure to make it work just to be around you again. 

Sliding his arms from around your waist, you tried to hide the disappointed sigh that escaped from your lips, causing him to smirk lightly. 

“Alright ma, that’s a bet. Give me your number and I’ll text you later to make sure you don’t flake on me.” He joked. You rolled your eyes playfully and smacked your teeth, causing him to shoot his eyebrows up in amusement. 

“Oh she has a ‘lil attitude problem, I’m gonna have to set that straight.” He thought to himself. 

“Boy whatever.” You said as you tried hiding your smile. You reached out your hand, signaling for him to hand over his phone. You typed in your cell number and text yourself so you could go in later and put him into your contact list. Handing him back his phone, he let his hand intertwine with yours longer than it needed to be, sparking an electric jolt to course from your fingertips all the way over your body. 

“Cool, I’ll see you Wednesday ma.” He said with a small smile before turning away to walk back to the area he was working out at. You gave a small nod, about to turn back to Jade before realizing you never caught his name. In a hurry you called out to him to grab his attention. 

“Hey wait, I never got your name?” You said with a small pout. The action making his dick stir a little in his gray shorts. 

He looked you up and down before catching your gaze again with a smirk to his lips. 

“Sukuna.” He said with wink and turned to leave. 

You stayed hypnotized in the same spot he left you, watching his figure walk away before you heard your best friend behind you. 

“See you got your own Flavor of Love right here, didn’t even have to go home for it.” 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[sailorstar9]

F/N's Boyfriend Had a Wedding with His First Love, So She Reconciled with Her First Love

Warning: Anti-Gorou, Anti-Kokomi, Angst, Modern AU

Trigger warning: Cheating

The day F/N's boyfriend's first love was discharged from the hospital, he drove dozens of kilometres to see her and held a small wedding ceremony with her.

Gorou explained, “Kokomi will never be able to walk again. This is her only wish. I couldn't refuse to help her fulfil it.”

“And what about me?” F/N retorted. “What am I supposed to be?”

On stage, F/N's current boyfriend was deeply affectionate with someone else.

Off stage, F/N's ex-boyfriend sneered at her, “F/N, I thought you would be doing so much better after leaving me.”

Kinich, F/N's ex-boyfriend, was standing beside her at that moment, his voice dripping in sarcasm. “So, this is all it comes to.”

F/N was momentarily stunned, pressing her lips together without saying a word. She just stared at the two people in the centre of the hospital lobby.

Gorou knelt on one knee, placing a wedding ring on the bride sitting in the wheelchair.

At that moment, the room erupted in applause. The atmosphere was vibrant and Gorou lifted her veil.

F/N finally saw the star of his show; Gorou's first love, Kokomi.

The crowd began to chant, “Kiss, kiss.”

Kokomi, unable to stand on tiptoe, lifted her head and pouted her lips, looking at Gorou with eyes full of affection.

Perhaps because he remembered her, his girlfriend of just over two years, Gorou hesitated for a few seconds, then finally kissed the side of her face. At that moment, he looked up and saw F/N standing on the outskirts of the crowd, with Kinich hovered by her side.

Gorou was immediately stunned, his expression flustered as he released Kokomi's hand and made to move to chase after F/N. “F/N, I...”

Kokomi quickly grabbed his arm, her eyes tearing as she pleaded, “Gorou, you can't just leave me like this.”

The guests, unaware of their situation, turned their gaze towards F/N and frowned, disapprovingly. “Who's this woman? What's she doing here? She's ruining a perfectly good wedding.”

F/N didn't bother responding, instead she took out a phone and made a call, her eyes fixing on Gorou.

The brown-haired man shook off Kokomi's hand and in front of everyone, took a few steps to stand before F/N. “F/N...” he then glanced at Kinich, his hand clenched in a fist. “Koko had a car accident and she might never walk again. She just wanted someone to help her experience what it's like to be a bride.”

Kinich chuckled lowly and causing Gorou's face to darkened instantly. His arms tensed, vein popping as he looked at F/N with restrained emotion. “F/N, I'm sorry. I messed up. Can you...”

“Madam?” F/N's called went through and her secretary's voice sounded on the other end.

“Anisa, schedule a meeting with the CEO of the Orobashi Group.” F/N put the call on speaker. “I'm quite sure Ms. Sangonomiya will be very interested in hearing about her shameless boyfriend-stealing daughter.”

“At once, Madam.” Anisa ended the call.

“Gorou,” F/N turned to her now ex-boyfriend. “She just wanted someone to help, but why did that someone have to be you?”

Gorou understood F/N's meaning and instinctively took a step forward, wanting to grab her. But as soon as he lifted a leg, Kinich stepped forward, blocking him with his body.

Behind Kinich, F/N made a second phone call, this time to her company's HR Director, “Imatani, have Gorou transferred from Planning to Warehouse.”

“Understood, Madam.” the middle-aged HR Director responded.

Gorou, having heard the conversation, paled. “F/N...”

F/N interrupted him, her tone now indifferent. “Gorou, did you think you could do this and not expect any repercussions? Let's break up.”

Before the words had fully settled, Kinich turned back to look at F/N and grabbed her wrist, pulling her away.

As the pair stepped into the setting sun, they remained silent for a while.

“Kinich....” F/N was the first to break the silence. “It's been a long time.”

Kinich chuckled, his tone indifferent. “You know it's been a long time since we last saw each other?”

“Kinich, it's been six years and you still...” F/N sighed.

Kinich took a few steps closer, standing firmly in front of F/N with an undeniable presence. “F/N.” he raised his hand to touch her face, his thumb pressing gently at the corner of her eye. “You like him that much? You couldn't let him go, so you had to go to his wedding to finally give up. Who knew the CEO of the Hakushin Conglomerate would be so sentimental?”

F/N broke away from Kinich's grasp. “Of course I liked him and we were a good match. Otherwise, I wouldn't be with him. But you, you wouldn't still be hung up on me, would you?”

Upon hearing that, Kinich scoffed, “What makes you think I'd still like you? F/N, don't forget you were the one who asked for the breakup. I haven't forgotten.”

“By the way, why were you at the hospital?” F/N thought to ask.

“My stomach was acting up.” Kinich answered.

F/N clicked her tongue. “Kinich, you really are a spoilt brat. Whatever happened to your fiancée?”

As soon as F/N said that, Kinich pressed his lips together, his expression darkening. “She found someone else and eloped.”

Kinich and F/N were college classmates and also each other's first love. In their early twenties, they loved each other with fiery passion. He came from a good family, had good looks and was capable. Such a person was always the centre of attention. It was like that since college; there were always people pursuing him, getting close to him.

But Kinich rejected them all thoroughly. He never gave anyone a chance to get close to him.

That was the security he gave F/N; he was the one who pushed her forward, holding her hand, standing side by side with her.

At that time, F/N had his clear and unwavering love.

But reality was cruel: it first gave F/N a sweet taste only to slap her hard afterward. For the most cliché of reasons, Kinich's family arranged a fiancée for him. At first, he was against it; arguing fiercely, even running away from home. It seemed that F/N was his entire world. Then, his family came one after another: his mother, his uncle, and others, along with that excellent fiancée they always talked about but F/N never saw. Finally, F/N was threatened by Kinich's mother, the Malipo family matriarch; if she didn't break up with him, it wouldn't just be F/N who was in trouble, but also the people around her.

F/N simply told Kinich that she was tired; that love should be happy and joyful and not a lone fight against the world.

Kinich looked at her in disbelief, saying he wouldn't agree.

F/N reminded him that breaking up didn't need mutual consent.

Kinich begged F/N again and again, asking her to wait a little longer, saying he would sort everything out.

But F/N still left decisively; she still remembered his final words, his gaze cold and harsh, “F/N, I'll make you regret this. I swear.”

Shortly after graduating from college, F/N was brought back into the Hakushin Family main house and formally named as the Hakushin successor.

The sudden ring of F/N's phone broke the silence. She glanced at the screen – it was a call from Gorou.

Kinich's expression darkened further as he coldly mocked. “He still has the nerve to call you?”

Ignoring him, F/N answered the call and Gorou's anxious voice came through, sharp and almost grating. “F/N, where did you go? Please listen to me. I didn't know she asked me to help her with this. I was just confused for a moment. That's why I agreed...”

“Gorou,” F/N interrupted him, glancing at Kinich. “I was very clear when we agreed to try this relationship. We cannot betray each other, even if it's just once, even if it was a moment of confusion. It's irreparable. Let's break up, Gorou.

“F/N, I don't agree.” Gorou insisted.

“Breaking up doesn't need mutual consent.” F/N smiled slightly, repeating the words she once told Kinich. With that, she hung up and blocked Gorou's number.

“It's irreparable?” Kinich echoed. “I didn't sense anything unusual.”

“When someone makes a mistake, they have to face the consequences.” F/N stated matter-of-factly. “Isn't that normal?” as if sensing something was off, she turned to look at Kinich,

His greenish-yellow eyes were locked onto F/N, intense and unwavering and his voice was cold. “But I didn't make a mistake back then. It was some coward who decided to leave me. It was she who let go of me, saying she was tired, that she didn't love me anymore.” as he spoke, Kinich leaned closer, his gaze fixed on F/N. “F/N, tell me, who was really at fault?”

“Let's head over to my place.” F/N offered. “I'll reveal everything there.”

No sooner had she spoken, Kinich's phone rang. As soon as he saw the caller ID, the coldness around him dissipated, his expression softening. “Okay, wait for me there.” he responded. “I'll be right over.” and then he hung up.

When F/N saw Kinich in the conference room several months later, her first thought was 'Fate's mood today is hard to assess.'

As soon as F/N took her seat at the head of the meeting table, the conference room door was violently flung open and F/N looked up to see Gorou.

He didn't look well; his face was pale, his shirt was wrinkled, his chin was shadowed with stubble and dark circles under his eyes indicated he hadn't rested well in a long time. Gorou stared at F/N, his eyes reflecting a light she couldn't quite decipher, causing a sense of foreboding to settle in her chest.

F/N made a gesture to her assistant, but it was too late. Gorou walked briskly towards her, his voice filled with sorrow. “F/N, what did I do wrong that you had to break up with me? We've known each other for almost two years. Don't you know what kind of person I am? What happened that day was just a misunderstanding.”

Facing with Gorou's complete disregard for the situation, F/N suddenly realized she had no idea what kind of person he really was; she had only agreed to date him after six months of him courting her. But she hadn't forgotten how he knelt on one knee to put a ring on his first love's finger.

Suddenly, there was a burst of laughter followed by few sparse claps echoing in the conference room.

F/N turned to face Kinich, his face all of mockery and Gorou's face visibly darkened.

Before he could react, Kinich spoke first. “Your words are quite interesting. I was there that day and saw you kneeling on one knee to propose to someone else. And now you say it was just a moment of confusion?”” he smiled coldly. “You must be very confused to say something so shameless.”

“What did you say...” Gorou snarled.

“Gorou!” F/N cut him off sharply. “We're all adults. We could've handled this with dignity, but you insisted on making it ugly. You want to know why I had to break up with you? I can tell you clearly: because I find it disgusting. My boyfriend proposing to his first love in front of me; that scene makes me sick every time I think of it. I'll say this once: I have no regrets about being with you. But I'm breaking up with you because you made a fundamental mistake. I can't pretend nothing happened.” then, she waved her hand, signalling her assistant to escort Gorou out.

After the meeting, F/N returned to her office and was startled to see Kinich sitting on the visitor's couch.

Without a word, she opened the top drawer of the side table and took out a pack of half-used quadruplet floral tea. Dropping two scoops of mixed dried flowers into the glass teapot, she then proceeded to make the tea for her unexpected guest.

As the scent of lemon verbena emitted through the room, Kinich's phone started ringing urgently. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the caller ID, kept a hand locked on F/N's wrist and took the call. “Say what you need to say.” he put the call on speaker. “If it's nothing important, don't bother me.”

“Why are you snapping at me, pipsqueak?” Xilonen's irritated voice barked. “I was just calling to tell you that the thing you asked me to take care of a few days ago has been resolved...”

Before the person on the other end could finish speaking, Kinich interrupted, “Did you hear that? This is one of my cousins.”

“Your family is really big.” F/N noted, pulling away her hand to pour out the floral tea. “Besides, what does that have to do with me?”

“How could it not be related?” Kinich ended the call. “I have other siblings. If you want to know, I'll tell you everything.”

Dragging her exhausted body, F/N made her way home. But as soon as she stepped out of the elevator, she saw Gorou who was squatting by her door.

When he noticed F/N, he quickly stood up and rushed over, catching her oof guard as he wrapped his arms tightly around her. “F/N... I was wrong. Please don't break up with me. I really know I was wrong. I've already sorted out things with her. I promise it won't happen again. It was all my fault before. I didn't know what came over me.”

“Gorou,” F/N pushed him off. “I'm sorry, but I never loved you from the beginning.”

“Stop...” Gorou sniffled. “F/N, please stop...”

Just then, Kinich arrived and he swung a fist at Gorou before he pulled F/N to his side, a deadly gaze staring at the other man.

As if realizing something, the defeated Gorou let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I get it now. It always has been him.” then he turned and stumbled towards the elevator.

Kinich's attention finally turned to F/N. Reaching into her bag, he took out her keys, unlocked the door and pulled her inside. “You promised you'll tell me everything.” he reminded.

F/N just sighed and walked into her kitchen to bring out a tea set and a pack of half-used sextuplet floral tea.

As the reunited pair sipped the fusion tea, F/N revealed everything; about how Kinichi's mother had laid out her ultimatum.

That night, with the aid of the blood orange infused tea, F/N had a good night's sleep. When she opened her eyes again, Kinich was sitting by the window, gazing at her with a gentle expression.

“Come here.” Kinich reached out a hand and pulled F/N into his arms, before engulfing her lips in an intense kiss.

When they broke apart, F/N felt a cool sensation spread across her fingers. Looking down, she realized Kinich had slipped a silver ring onto her finger.

“F/N,” Kinich whispered, nuzzling her ear. “I want to hold onto you.”

After that day, Kinich and F/N got back together.

When the Hakushin family matriarch, F/N's grandmother found out, her eyes turned red.

Kinich's mother came to see F/N in a rush after she got off work. She was usually a poised, composed and impeccably dressed woman. But now, her hair was dishevelled and she was visibly agitated.

“Why didn't you tell me you are the Hakushin heiress?” the Malipo family matriarch demanded. “If I had known six years ago, I would've...”

“You would've what?” F/N curled her lips in a small smile. “Broken off Kinich's martial contract because the Hakushin family is among the top elite and therefore more influential?”

“Mom, have you ever thought that maybe the reason I was with F/N was not because of her family?” at some point, Kinich had appeared beside F/N.

“Fine.” the elder Malipo woman relented. “My son has grown up.”

A/N: My first Kinich post. Hopefully, he won't dodge me after this.

[ladykailitha]

Hellfire Exotic Club Part 4

Yay! This story is really moving along and were getting to all sorts of plots coming up for you.

With any luck I'll finish Secret Tunnel (aka the Game Show AU) and then just so it goes up and you can read it before the end of the time, I'll be doing a one time posting on Tuesdays.

"A Love Connection" coming to your screens this Tuesday!

It looks like it will be about 7 chapters and lot of fun. So stay tuned for that.

In this we Steve making waves and Jeff having a heart to heart with his best friend.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

~

It was Saturday night and Chrissy and Steve were debuting their fallen angels. Eventually they were going to get color change outfits made up so that they were white when dry and red when wet. So that by the end of their dance, they’ll be devils.

Eddie was so thrilled by the idea that he ordered a couple of different outfits for them so they didn’t always have to wear the same outfit every week.

What they wore as Samael and Eve weren’t anything like their Sins, Satan and Lilith. Steve was having his own outfit made, so for now he was merely wearing the very held on together with too many pins outfit of the former Envy. Bill was much broader than Steve and his out was meant to be tight.

When he first tied them on he looked ridiculous. Steve refused to wear the cowboy hat that went with it because one, it was hideous; two, he had no way of knowing anything about Billy’s hair care or lack thereof to be considered safe; and three, because Steve was a vain ass bitch and refused to cover his hair for anyone.

So until their costumes came, Steve and Chrissy were just wearing skimpy white outfits that they removed during their dance.

It featured Samael and Eve being tempted by Lucifer into falling. It was sexy as hell and Eddie didn’t mind getting to dance with them both.

After all, Eddie was bisexual and both Chrissy and Steve were amazing dancers. Steve wore wings that by the end of their dance, Eddie had ripped off. Eve and her apple. Turning into the gluttonous Lilith, having tasted temptation and wanting to devour it all.

Then it was Eddie’s turn with the hour in the spotlight and he began with his guitar. He played like a rockstar and as he played and screamed his heart out, the clothes came off until there was nothing between him and his sweetheart.

Then he would set the guitar aside dance in just his boots, bumping and grinding for the crowd and all their hard earned money, now his.

Everyone was thrilled with how well the angels dance went down. Well, almost.

Eddie was putting the club’s take of the money into the strong box that would then be locked in his safe in the floor when he got a knock on his office door.

He looked up from his count. “Stella! Come on in. Have a seat. What can I do you for?”

She moved with all the deadly grace of cobra.

“That was a pretty impressive dance tonight,” she hummed non-committedly. “You and Chrissy and the new guy.”

Eddie was a smart man. He gotten to where he was based on that and his good instincts. And both were screaming Stella was in fact not impressed.

“It feels good to shake things up a bit,” he hedged. He wasn’t sure what her complaint was. That Steve and Chrissy got ‘extra time’? That Eddie was playing favorites? That they were a trio instead of duo or single like they usually were?

“We aren’t called Heaven and Hellfire Club, Eddie,” Stella huffed. “There’s shaking things up and then there’s throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”

Ah. The Heaven theme. “A lot of the demons in hell were fallen angels. Lucifer, Samael, Abbadon, Rosier and several others. We’re just tapping into the more Judaic and Islamic mythos instead of relying on the Christian one.”

She pursed her lips and Eddie could feel a storm brewing.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Eddie continued, cutting her off before she could build up steam. “If people don’t like it, we’ll stop. But at least for tonight, we pulled in good money for that dance.”

Stella nodded primly. “You’re right, Eddie. We’ll see.”

Like that wasn’t ominous as fuck.

~

Steve didn’t feel as nervous tonight as he had last week. He had had more time with the dance and he felt more confident in his skin. He knew by now that not everyone stripped, but he wanted to try a little tease tonight to see how that went over.

He leaned over the stool in the middle of the stage and waited for the lights to come on. This was his favorite moment even when he was back doing ballet. He loved the beat between the spotlight being off and then on.

That moment of hushed silence as the crowd takes in a collective breath in anticipation. Waiting.

Waiting.

Bam!

The lights came on and Steve snapped up his head. He pulled his body over the stool and straddled it. He ran his fingers over his body and looked back into the crowd with a pout.

Half way through his hour of dancing, he looked over his shoulder at the crowd and slowly unzipped his corset and then pushed it down his body, as money flew through the air.

Yep. That would certainly do the trick. He turned around and dipped down low, spreading his legs. He bounced right back up. He spun and then did the splits, slowly sinking to the floor. He brought his legs back together and arched his back, leaning on his hands. He laid completely flat and undulated his body. He sat back up and tucked his legs under him.

He crawled toward the front of the stage where there were men and women alike waving fists of cash at him. He let them tuck the bills wherever it would fit and then stood back up.

He finished his dance back on the stool and turned away from the audience. He looked over his shoulder again and winked.

~

Eddie was going to go feral. This was it, the end of his sanity. It had slowly been ebbing away for years but this?

This destroyed the last tether he had to reason. He didn’t drink on the clock. Because he knew the second he got drunk some catastrophe would happen that he would need to be sober for and he’d fuck the whole thing up.

But god, did Steve’s little wink at the end make him want to start with one end of the bar and go all the way down, drinking everything he could get his hands on.

How his hands managed not to shake when he handed Steve his cut of the night’s earnings, he’ll never know. But he even got in a sincere smile while he was at it.

He quietly put the money in the lockbox to be combined with Saturday’s take and taken to the bank first thing in the morning. He locked up his office and went out front to wait for the cleaners. When he got out to the bar, he saw Jeff waiting for him.

That brought him up short. If he was expecting anyone to stay for a chat it would have been Chrissy or Gareth. Jeff pulled out a bottle whiskey and poured them each a glass before sitting down. He patted the stool next to him.

“Come on,” he murmured gently. “I’m not gonna bite you.”

Eddie scoffed and did as he was told. This was bound to be a better conversation then the ones he had with Stella and Steve. At least this time there was booze involved. He picked up the glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long drink.

“You did good bringing him in,” Jeff started. “More people are coming in then they were before and tips for everyone have gone up.”

Eddie looked over at his best friend and then cocked his head to the side with a half shrug. “I was about ready to go drown my sorrows and give up finding anyone who could replace Billy. Because, yeah for all we brandy about him being stereotypical, he got warm bodies into the club every Sunday night.”

“He certainly could out Magic Mike even the best of strippers,” Jeff agreed. “Too bad his personality was shit and he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants off the stage.”

Eddie drained the rest of his glass and poured himself another. He turned in the stool to face Jeff. “See that’s the part I don’t understand. Why would he sleep around with married women? Especially high profile married women? Because that was just asking for trouble.”

“Because it’s not about sex,” Jeff said with a shrug. “It’s about power. He could have sex with any woman he wanted so he went for the ones in power so that he could control them. Dude was a class A asshole.”

“That’s true,” Eddie scoffed. “But no, I’m glad Steve is settling in. Since Scott’s been helping him learn the moves, he’s been picking them up faster and even adding his own moves.”

“When you got him in to see Ellie?” he asked downing his drink. “Because if he was in a costume that actually fucking fit, he’d be bringing in even bigger numbers.”

Eddie winced. He loved Ellie. She did all the costumes for the club and was always happy to make him new ones. Hell, she was super excited to do the costumes for the fairy tale night. But he was having a hard time getting Steve and her together in the same room because of how wildly different their schedules were. He really wasn’t thinking about that when he gave Steve his schedule.

“I’m working on it,” he muttered darkly. “She’s already slammed with some of the extra work we sent her. I don’t know what Steve does on his days off, but he’s been super busy so it’s hard to get the two of them in the same room.”

“Just have her show up to one of the shows,” Jeff said, “and have her take the measurements between him shaking his assets.”

Eddie snorted. “She likes making our costumes but she passes on the actual show.”

“She’d be in the back in the dressing rooms,” Jeff huffed. “Because he needs to get costumes that fit his style. Hell, he needs to dance his style. The envy dance was great for pole, but Steve barely touches the damn thing. Which considering his past experience is a little weird, but that’s not here or there. He needs to be able to branch out.”

“Would you tell that to Stella, please?” Eddie growled. “She’s already been on my ass about the angel thing. She’s trying to clip his wings before he even gets them.”

Jeff poured them both another glass. Eddie raised an eyebrow. He didn’t usually have more than two. “Don’t worry, I’ve got Uber on standby, but I think we both need this right now. But to answer your question, some people just don’t like change. Especially since she is one of the last vestiges of the KitCat Kitty Club. Her and a couple of the backup dancers. When they saw Billy get fired, suddenly they got very afraid for their jobs.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said, playing with his glass and really not drinking it. Around them the cleaners were getting to work. They were used to Eddie having a drink with one of his friends and just did that section last.

“You just have show them you understand where they’re coming from,” Jeff said, “without letting them push you over. You’re boss after all.”

Eddie glared at him. “And how do you suppose I do that, pray tell?”

“I don’t know,” Jeff said waving his hand. “Fly casually.” He snorted when Eddie hit his arm. “Look, man I don’t know. I’m just a dancer. I shake my ass and I get paid for it. You’re the real brains of this place. You took it to new heights when it should have failed. You brought in some of the best dancers this town has ever seen by the sheer grace of just being friends with them. I don’t know why you’re asking me for advice.”

Eddie buried his head in hands. He sat like that for a moment and then drank all the whiskey in his glass in one gulp. He put his head on the bar and thunked it a couple of times. He was good at this. He could do this.

“I can handle this,” he said waving his hands at the bar. “What I can’t handle is how hot Steve is. Like what the hell?”

Jeff threw his head back and laughed. “Can’t help you with that one, man. I’m straight.”

“God, I wish I was straight or gay instead of the bisexual disaster that I am.”

Jeff put his arm around his shoulders. “People still think you and Chrissy are still an item?”

He nodded morosely and then laid his head on his arms on the bar. He turned his head to look at Jeff. “I can’t beat the allegations even with my personal no dating staff rule.”

“Maybe they just want you to be happy,” he said, finishing his drink and setting the glass behind the bar for the crew to clean up.

“It’s just she’s not out as a lesbian,” Eddie whispered, “and I worry she’s going to be pushed into revealing something she’s not ready to yet.”

“So take a night off once and awhile and date, man,” Jeff huffed. “You give everyone at least one night off, two if you can swing it. But when was the last time you stepped into a club that you didn’t own?”

Eddie scoffed. “Probably never.”

“You have me and Chrissy to help you run this place,” Jeff reminded him. “Take a day off, rest. Hell, go visit your uncle. I bet that bastard misses your scaly ass.”

Eddie shook his head and finished his third glass. “I should. I call him all the time, but it would be good to see him too.”

“I think you’ve had your head so wrapped around this club,” Jeff said, “that you forgot to be someone other than ‘boss’.”

Eddie let out a slow shuddering breath as he pushed away from the bar. “Thanks, Jeffy. I owe you.”

Jeff laughed. “You don’t owe me shit. I love my job and I know there would be no other place in or out of this fucking state that would take a black man as a headlining stripper, let alone one looking like me.”

“Which is a damn shame,” Eddie replied. “Let’s find that Uber of yours and go home.”

Jeff laughed. “You’ve become such a fucking lightweight.”

Eddie pushed him and then wrestled and tussled as they exited the bar.

In the back of the bar one of the cleaners watched them go with a furrowed brow.

~

And don't worry, I haven't forgotten our little cleaner, they'll make an appearance later. ;)

Tag List: ONE SLOT REMAINING

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @dreamercec @sadisticaltarts @too-much-tma-stuff @dolphincliffs @chameleonhair

10- @themoonagainstmers @gloomysoup @novelnovella @micheledawn1975

[kyokutsu-sama]

Flashy night

Uzui Tengen x f! Reader x wifes

A/n: Just a flashy scenario for a flashy man. I'm thinking about writing Kyojuro's pov and posting it later🤔

Tw: Slightly suggestive

••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••

"Tengen, I think you better go home man. Your wives must be waiting for you!" Rengoku shouted in the middle of the street due to the noise of the people and the music.

The two friends had planned to go to the entertainment district because of a festival Tengen had mentioned. Rengoku never refused to go anywhere with his best friend, especially if it promised lots of fun and food. They had gone in completely sober and were now completely drunk and barely knew their way back.

"Yeah, I know. My wives love me and everyone knows it!" Tengen said, holding his drink as he danced. He really was an exhibitionist.

"Yes, but if we don't get back soon, you'll end up sleeping on the couch." Rengoku joked, trying to drag his friend out of the crowd. They were now leaning on each other and walking like blind people in the middle of a shootout.

"Now that's not true! They would never do that to me," Tengen said, laughing."They love me, believe me..."

*Meanwhile, at Tengen's house*

"Tengen hasn't come back yet?" Makio asked, arriving in the living room and seeing you sitting on the couch, waiting for Tengen to come home. "Where the hell did he get himself to again? I hope he doesn't have to face a demon on the way."

"It was a possibility... If I didn't know he went out to go to another one of those flashy festivals he likes so much."

"And he didn't even take us with him. Just left us here alone and bored." Makio said, pouting and holding some resentment for his action

"He said he was going with a great friend of his."

"Probably that one who talks really loud, the hashira of the flames... I don't remember his name." She said, looking at the ceiling, trying to remember the name

"Rengoku?" You said, and she nodded

"Yeah, that one! They get along very well."

"I believe he should be arriving soon. I mean, it's almost three in the morning." You said looking at the clock on the wall

"Typical of Master Tengen. He never arrives at the time he says will. Suma and Hinatsuru must be fast asleep by now, and getting Suma to sleep after she found out Tengen went without us was no easy task. That idiot almost cried her eyes out." Makio rolled her eyes, remembering the scene

"Suma is always sensitive..." You said with a giggle. "What about you? Aren't you going to sleep?"

"I just came to see how you were since you were the only one who wasn't sleeping yet, but if you're going to stay there waiting for him, that's fine. I'm going to the bed, good night." Makio said, hugging you and getting up afterwards

"Sleep well."

"Yeah, and be sure to kick Tengen's drunk ass when he gets here!" She shouted from the end of the hallway and you chuckled

"I will!"

You stood there for a while until you heard the front door open and saw the big man stumble on his own steps and almost fall to the floor while laughing out loud. You knew at that moment who it was. You got up from the couch and walked to the entrace hall with your arms crossed as you saw him waving to his friend who was already going home.

"Have a great night my great buddie Rengoku!!"He shout before closing the door

When he turned around and saw you behind him, his smile widened and you were almost blinded by the glow he exuded at that moment. The drunkenness made him hotter than usual but you didn't want to let your guard down at that moment. And you definitely wouldn't.

"Look who's here waiting for me! I'm sorry for leaving my princess alone but since I'm here I think I should make up for my absence..." He said in a seductive voice, approaching and covering your figure with all his tall and wide stature. Oh, he was really stepping over the borders...

His white hair was loose and disheveled, there were a few messy strands on his face, his cheeks were pink from the alcohol and the heat. He was wearing a yukata that was open and exposing his chest. You could bet he was doing it on purpose to tease you.

"Why don't we go upstairs and 'talk' a little about my late arrival?" He whispered in your ear with a little giggle and distributing a few kisses on your neck but you just rolled your eyes and sighed. It was difficult because he really was driving you crazy.

"Makio, Hinatsuru and Suma have been asleep for a while now and I don't want to bother them and besides, Makio herself told me to kick your drunk ass, so..." You said and the hashira laughed

"My dear Makio is cold, but I like her. What about you? Are you really going to kick your husband's drunk and flashy ass?" He said holding your face with both hands

"You deserved it, you know? It's just that you left and came back late and as if that wasn't enough, you didn't take your lovely wives with you."

"I already apologized! Come on, why don't we settle things amicably, my love?" He leaned his forehead against yours, which made things even more difficult for you, who were trying not to give in

"Tengen, don't insist. You're drunk and I'm sleepy." You said, trying to get away from him, who at that moment knelt in front of you looking like a clingy, whiny boy.

"You're not being flashy, Y/n. Why don't you give me a little chance. Please, five minutes! We don't even need to go to the bedroom..." Uzui insisted again, holding the hem of your shorts, but you slapped his hands away and walked away from him

"Damn, Uzui! You're stubborn when you're drunk. Jeez!" You said, and he was silent for a moment while he massaged the hand you slapped, but still with a smile on his face and his eyes shining at you. "And don't make those puppy dog ​​eyes at me. Let's just go to sleep, it's too late." You ordered

Tengen got up from the floor and let out a long sigh, seeing that he couldn't be more stubborn than his wife who was in front of him. However, his ego didn't allow you to have the last word.

Tengen got closer to your ear and bent down a little, which made you feel chills.

"Alright, you win. But one thing is for certainly, I'll deal with you tomorrow. Just you wait!" He slapped your butt and ran to the bedroom while laughing and you felt your cheeks burn with shame.

He really could drive everyone crazy.

"Tengen, you son of a-- Come back here now!" You said, running after him

[rey-jake-therapist]

"Sauron is not enough evil and scary in Rings of Power"

Because he was scary in LOTR?! That thing is scary to you?

I'll tell you what : Sauron's eye in the movie NEVER scared me. Not even a little bit. I remember that the first time this big ridiculous eye appeared on screen, we all chuckled because... "That's it? that's Sauron?" . And the least that we can say, it's that in terms of personnality... Well he has none, right? The conversations must be nice:

"Hey Sauron, how are you today?

Sauron: RING! RING !!! AHHhrhzjjjjjjj RING!!!!!!!

Oh yeah, the ring, sure Boss. Anything else you need?

Sauron: RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!"

Fascinating.

I hate to break it to you, but movies Sauron is BORING. He's boring because he's hardly an entity. He's more a concept, and at the end everything about him rests on what the characters tell us about him: that he's extra evil, very cruel, a tyrant, obsessed by the One Ring, yada yada. But since he's no more than this giant eye on a tower, he never becomes tangible. We believe he's evil because that's what everybody says and also because of what his unpaid employees do, but he never gets to do anything himself, so we don't really see it.

Shelob scared me. The Nazguls terrified me. Heck, I was more afraid than Gollum than I was of Sauron. Don't laugh, did you see his teeth? I would be at least afraid to catch an horrible disease if he bit me...

In ROP, however, Charlie Vickers nails it as Sauron. He may not be literally on fire, but his evilness and his cunningness are palpable in season 2. I mean, the way he treats Celebrimbor?! If that's not sheer cruelty I don't know what it is, and it will get even worse in the episodes to come. Sauron doesn't take no for an answer. He tortures Celebrimbor, not physically but psychologically to bend him to his will. Since day #1, he lies constantly to Celebrimbor, flatters him, tells him what he wants to hear, gaslights him, isolates him from his people, nearly drives him to madness and only at the end, threatens to destroy his city if he doesn't do what he wants... That's not evil enough for you?? Oh, and add "creepy" on the list too, for this poor girl he keeps being weird with.

And as for the scary side of Sauron: Charlie proves to be an excellent actor when he manages to express his moments of contained rage through his micro expressions. For example, every time Celebrimbor resists him, his face changes enough for the audience to see he would tear the poor man's eyes out if he could, but it doesn't last long, blink and you miss it ! Same in the last episose 6, when King Durin refused to deliver more mithril to him; it was so obvious he wanted to kill the old man on the spot, but he's patient, he'll let the Balrog do it for him. Because yes, he's vicious and likes to keep his hands clean, so he tells animals do the job for him when he can!

But it's there, and we already got to see a glimpse of the sheer fury that can possess him when he loses control : in Numenor, when he beat the shit out of the men who had mocked him, and on the raft when Galadriel rejected him. That was probably just a forestate of what we can expect from the next seasons, folks.

By the way, I wrote all this with love. I love that TROP made Sauron tangible. I can see the threat he is now. I understand why everyone during the LOTR is terrified at the idea that he may come back. And I don't want anyone to fix him, mind you...

TROP Sauron, stay as you are, get much worse, PLEASE!