#I’m sure this sort of thing has been done before and much better lol

[milatiny-xx]

moonshine | j.wy

⊹₊⟡⋆ Westeez Series | Part 1 of 8 ⊹₊⟡⋆

pairing: ranch hand!wooyoung x fem!reader summary: He's good with words and even better with his hands. tags: cowboy/wild west AU, widow!reader, alcohol, NSFW/18+/MDNI (oral—f receiving, fingering, dirty talk, oral fixation, P in V unprotected sex—WRAP IT FRIENDS!!!) wc: 9.1k a/n: it's heeere!! this took me AGES and turned out wayyy longer than i expected lol but i'm so excited to finally be posting this!!! jung wooyoung the things YOU DOOOO

⊹₊⟡⋆ masterlist | taglist ⊹₊⟡⋆

PROLOGUE

“I don’t know how I’m gonna get it all done,” you sigh, your finger anxiously tracing the rim of your glass. “There ain’t enough hours in the day to do everything I need to keep the ranch going and look after the house and take care of all the finances and…”

You groan, running your hand over your face.

“It’s still only been ten months since he passed, darlin',” Ed’s smooth, low voice is a comfort. He rests his calloused hand on top of yours. “Give yourself a little grace. I’m sure Billy wouldn’t wantcha runnin' yourself ragged like this.”

A pang shocks through your chest at the mention of your late husband’s name. Ten months…you can’t believe it’s been that long. It feels like an eternity and the blink of an eye at the same time. You should have prepared more. You had plenty of time. Billy fought tuberculosis for four years before he succumbed to the disease.

But the truth is that you weren’t ready for him to go. You certainly weren’t ready to handle all of the work he left behind.

“I know, Ed,” you reply. “I just don’t know what to do.”

Ed Milton, one of the kindest and warmest men you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, is a friend of Billy’s father. He was close with your husband. He looked after the both of you like you were his own children. His wife, Lily, has brought you stew and cornbread more times than you can count since Billy’s death.

“You thought about hirin' some help?” Ed asks.

You perk up a tad, a faint glimmer of hope glinting in the distance.

“Well…no, actually. I guess I been too busy sortin' out all the paperwork. I hadn’t even thought about it.”

“I think you should hire a ranch hand. Somebody who can look after all the farm work so you have more time to deal with the business side of things.”

You nod, considering his suggestion. Although the idea has you practically salivating at the thought of a full night’s rest, your mind is quickly clouded with questions and worries. 

“It sounds wonderful, but I wouldn’t know where to start with all that. I mean, where do you get one? How much do you pay ‘em? How do I know I can trust him if I do hire him?”

“Alright, okay,” Ed holds up a hand, telling you to rein yourself in. “I know the ranch is everything you have, and you don’t wanna rush into anything. Since you’re spread too thin as it is, why don’t I ask around and see if I can’t find a suitable one.”

“Ed, I couldn’t ask you to do that for me.”

“Nonsense. You’re like a daughter to me, Y/N. This is the least I can do. Please, let me help.”

You hesitate, guilt swimming through your blood like a snake in water. Ed’s eyes are glassy, eyebrows furrowed, deep wrinkles spreading across his forehead. With a heavy sigh, you nod.

“Alright.”

PART ONE

You’re sitting at the writing desk in the parlor, working and reworking math equations to balance the books for the ranch. A sharp knock on the front door startles you. You glance up at the grandfather clock in the corner. Nine o’clock. Right on time.

You stand, flattening the pleats of your skirt and tucking a strand of stray hair behind your ear, before making your way to the door. You swing it open, and your breath is knocked from your chest.

The man who stands on the other side is not at all what you had been expecting. Ed wrote you last week to tell you that he’d found a ranch hand who came highly recommended. He sorted the details out on your behalf and set today’s date as the ranch hand’s first day of employment. You expected to see an older, grizzly, possibly greying man with a God-awful handlebar mustache or mutton chops or something.

But who you’re looking at is nothing of the sort.

This man is medium-height with a solid build, his broad shoulders clearly visible even underneath his button-down shirt. His face is young and smooth, no sign of a handlebar mustache to be seen. His plump lips are turned up into a polite smile. Your gaze traces up his nose, a straight, slender bridge with a gentle curve at the tip. His eyes are dark but soft, trained on you and set underneath a mop of raven black hair.

He’s young, fit, and very handsome.

“Good morning, Mrs. Reynolds,” he says, tipping his hat respectfully.

“H-hello,” you stutter.

He stares at you, dark eyes friendly and focused. You know you should speak—welcome him to the house, thank him for taking the offer, anything—but you can’t move your mouth. He clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m Jung Wooyoung,” he continues. In response to your continued stunned silence, he adds, “Your ranch hand.”

“Oh!” you reply, finally managing to snap yourself back to reality. “Y-yes, of course! I’m sorry. Too much on my brain, I guess.”

You laugh nervously, brushing your hand across your hairline. He smiles politely, dimples forming on either side of his mouth. “That’s quite alright, ma’am.”

“Oh, please, call me Y/N. I-if you’d like. I…” you laugh nervously again. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never done this before. It’s always just been me and my husb—well it was me and Billy…uh before he—er, d-died. Anyway, this is brand new to me, and I’m not really sure how it all works just yet.”

He chuckles, the sound deep and breathy. His head dips so that he’s glancing up at you from beneath the brim of his beige cowboy hat. His lips are curved in a crooked smile, dimples still showing.

While you try to control your breathing, your eyes drop down to the small suitcase propped against his leg. You gasp.

“Oh! I’m sorry. Again. Let me show you to the bunkhouse, where you’ll be stayin'.”

You cringe and curse at yourself as you step onto the porch. You scold yourself sternly inside your head as you lead him across the dirt path from the main house to the bunkhouse. Opening the door, he steps inside. His head swivels as he takes in the small space. The wooden floor and walls creak and groan under your weight and the small window is crooked on one side. The only items inside the house are a metal-framed bed with a quilt, a small table with a pitcher and a basin for water, an old rocking chair, and a wooden stove for a fire.

“It ain't much,” you say, “but if there’s anything I can get you to make it more comfortable, please let me know. The outhouse is just out that back door there.”

He gently puts his case down beside the table and sits on the bed. He offers another tight-lipped smile.

“It’s great. Thank you, ma’am.”

You nod, returning his grin.

“I-I can leave you for a little while to unpack your things, if you’d like.”

“No, that’s alright. I can unpack later tonight. If you wouldn’t mind just showing me to the barn and letting me know what you’d like me to get started on, I can go ahead and get to work.”

“Oh…of course. Follow me.”

You scold yourself again, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. He must think you’re the dumbest woman alive.

You fidget with a loose thread on your bodice as you lead him out of the bunkhouse and to the small barn across the way. You reach for the latch to the door, yanking it to the side. It sticks for a moment, like it always does, but with one additional tug it slides free. You stumble slightly, slamming your hand ungracefully onto the wooden wall to stabilize yourself. You feel heat spreading across your cheeks and ears as you sheepishly look up at him.

“Bolt's a little rusted out,” you try to explain. “It sticks a little. You gotta yank it pretty good. Uh...this is the barn. It’s small and…well, it’s a mess, but this is it.”

You glance around, placing your hands on your hips. He steps inside, taking inventory of everything there. Half-picked over hay bales lay haphazardly around, various tools are strewn all over, feed is scattered across the dirt floor. You’re suddenly extremely embarrassed. You should have found time to tidy up.

“Mr. Milton said you needed help looking after the animals. What can I do?”

“Chicken coop’s out back,” you gesture to the other side of the barn. “Pigs are out there, too. Horses and cattle are normally out in the field in front of the main house. We only move ‘em in here if bad weather rolls through. Most of the animals take care of themselves. Just make sure they’re fed once or twice a day and that water troughs are full. Horses are groomed, stalls are mucked. Don’t worry about the eggs, I can take care of those myself.”

“What about repairs? Anything broken that needs fixing?”

“Oh, um, nothin' major. A few of our fences could maybe use some work, but you really don’t need to feel obligated if you don’t want to. I mostly just need help with the animals.”

He nods.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get on taking care of the animals and then, if it’s alright, I’d love to have a look around the whole property to see if anything else needs some attention. Starting with this…”

He brushes past you. Angling his head to peer underneath the bolt to the barn door, he taps it with his fingertip.

“Yeah…” he mutters. “I’ll get this fixed up today.”

“Oh…that would be wonderful. We have tools…around.”

You chuckle awkwardly. He nods, shooting you that dashingly handsome crooked smile again.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Alright, well...I’ll be in the main house. If you have any questions or need anything, just let me know.” You turn to leave, biting a way a girlish smile when something occurs to you. You glance over your shoulder, “Oh, supper will be served around six. You like beef stew?”

“Yes, ma’am. Six o’clock.”

You nod to confirm before turning away. As you walk back to the house, you feel a faint tingling sensation in your chest. You try to ignore it while you settle in to finish your work, but it nags at you like a fly all day long.

Supper is awkward, almost unbearably so.

Exhausted and distracted by today’s unexpected turn of events, you slightly burn the potatoes in the stew. Ears fire red from the combination of the oven’s heat and embarrassment, you slide the overcooked meal in front of Wooyoung at 6:30 instead of six.

You apologize profusely, but, to his credit, he genuinely doesn’t seem to mind. He eats up every last drop of the stew, compliments your cooking, and then excuses himself to get back to work. You eat in relative silence, aside from whatever polite small talk you could muster.

As you scrub the dishes clean, you glance up at the framed photograph of Billy that you keep in the kitchen. Sadness ricochets through your body. You smile weakly.

“I’m a mess, huh?” you mumble to the photo.

That night, you toss and turn in bed. You finally will yourself to sleep, vowing to be more composed in front of your new employee tomorrow.

PART TWO

Within a month’s time, you’ve settled into a rhythm. Each morning, you wake at six a.m., two hours later than you used to. You stoke the fireplace and heat water for coffee. After dressing, you head out to the coop to gather the eggs and milk the cow. Then, you make breakfast.

Wooyoung comes to the house around seven to eat with you. Your morning meals together are usually quiet, but you’ve grown rather comfortable in the silence. He eats quickly and then heads out to work.

Then begins the fun: chores. With Wooyoung taking care of the animals, you have much more time to upkeep the inside of the house. You wash dishes, do laundry, dust and sweep, mend clothes, tend to the garden, and any other household chores. Wooyoung usually skips lunch, just taking some dried jerky and a biscuit along with him to the field. Normally, you eat a small meal alone.

You spend the afternoon hours working on business matters—tracking expenses and earnings, writing letters to cattle salesmen, preparing orders for supplies. The work itself is mind-numbingly boring. But it’s your favorite time of the day. Because you can see him.

You sit by the window in the parlor, having discovered that it’s the perfect seat from which to watch your handsome ranch hand work.

At first, you just found it interesting to observe him. You felt like you were learning while you watched him mend broken fences and chop firewood. You admired the softness of his hands while he inspected the cattle and horses. His expertise was inspiring.

Each evening, Wooyoung comes to the house for supper. Each and every day, no matter how badly you may have butchered the meal, he devours it like it’s his first time tasting food. Like a true gentleman, he always washes his hands and face and removes his hat and dirty boots before coming inside for supper.

After supper, he usually goes back to work. But, sometimes, if he has things to tend to inside the house, he sits with you for a while as you sew. He complimented your needlepoint once.

You were so flattered that you’d started working on a gift for him. A few weeks ago, you’d been hard at work planting bluebells in front of the main house. When Wooyoung came in for dinner, he said how much he liked them, talked about how beautiful they were. You’d decided to make him something special as a thank you.

He’s settled in nicely, clearly comfortable here at your ranch. The first couple of weeks, he’s quiet and polite. He always calls you ma’am and tips his hat and does his work without complaint. It’s easy—to talk to him, to joke with him, to be with him. He has been nothing but professional.

So, when you absentmindedly glance out the window one day to see him working in the field, completely bare from the waist up, your heart jumps into your throat. You do a double take. Your fingers instinctively crumple into the piece of paper under your hand.

The hot July sun beats down on him, the golden afternoon rays illuminating the streaks of sweat across his back. You gulp as your eyes rake over him. His muscles shift and tense as he hammers a nail into the fence. One small jagged scar cuts across his otherwise smooth skin, making you wince as you imagine what could have caused it. Two black lines adorn the middle of his back, just under his neck. Tattooed words, too far for you to read.

He turns, lifting an arm to wipe the sweat from his brow. Your eyes widen as they trail down his torso. His stomach is ribbed in muscle all the way down to where his trousers hang low on his hips. You force your gaze back up before it can dip any lower.

But looking at his face might be even worse. Strands of his long raven hair are stuck to his sweaty forehead. Beads of sweat drip down his jaw. His plump lips are parted, chin angled upward as he heaves deep breaths.

You raise a hand, placing it on the side of your head to block your peripheral vision. Your heart is thudding in your chest. Your stomach is churning uncomfortably. You haven’t felt this way in years. Squeezing your eyes closed, you try to calm yourself down. Instead, you’re assaulted by the image of Wooyoung burned into your memory.

You can’t focus. You can’t work.

You take your materials and move to a different room—one with no windows and no view of the field or the shirtless man toiling away in it. It doesn’t work. You grab a cup of coffee and drain it for energy. Doesn’t work. You set up a pocket watch to make yourself work for ten minutes straight. Doesn’t work.

Desperate and involuntarily horny, you resort to the only thing you can think of to relax yourself: hard liquor.

You glance up bashfully at the photo of Bill as you rummage through his old liquor cabinet and reach for the bottle of prized apple moonshine.

“Don’t judge me, Bill,” you mumble toward the photo and pour yourself a shot.

As the liquid burns down your throat, you breathe deeply. You can’t believe he’s having this effect on you.  Apparently, you’ve been more touch-starved than you realized. Because of his illness, you and Billy hadn’t been able to do much. Not to mention that the TB had weakened him significantly; he was pale and almost skeletal with very little muscle mass. By the end, his back was scarred over from bed sores.

It’s been years since you’ve seen a healthy young man. An attractive, well-built young man. Cringing at yourself, you take another shot. It seems like a betrayal to Bill to feel this way. It wasn’t his fault he got sick. But seeing Wooyoung like that…raw and muscular and sexy…you need the touch of a man. And you need it now.

You down another shot. Ridiculous. You’re a grown woman and his employer. Feeling this way is wildly inappropriate. On multiple levels.

You need to get a hold of yourself.

You take another shot.

And before you know it, your head is buzzing. You haven’t had a drink since before Bill got sick. And never in your life have you ever had four shots…or five? You’ve lost track. The fact that you’re able to finish cooking dinner on time is a miracle.

As you slide the bowl in front of Wooyoung, now fully clothed, you brace yourself on the table to keep from stumbling as you sit down across from him. You handle yourself as well as you can manage and shove down food to soak up all the alcohol you impulsively drank.

Conversation flows freely between you. He teases, you giggle, he compliments your cooking, you flush. As he inhales his last bite, you study him. His hair is brushed back, resting handsomely against his cheeks. He looks calm, peaceful, and happy. He looks up, his eyes locking with yours.

“Ma’am?”

“Hmmm?” you hum, distracted.

“I got something on my face?”

“No.”

“You’re staring at me, Mrs. Reynolds. And smiling.”

You’re suddenly aware of the stupid grin on your face—you hadn’t even realized you were doing it. You drop your gaze.

“Just…glad to have someone enjoy my cookin'. Bill never seemed to like it very much.”

“Everybody’s got different taste. Maybe he didn’t like his potatoes charred.”

You giggle, shooting him a playful glare. He smiles, those damn dimples pulling at your heartstrings again.

“Ah! That reminds me," you say. "I made something for you”

His eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. You fish through a drawer in the parlor, pulling out a pair of leather gloves. You press them to your chest, excited to hand them over after all these weeks.

“I noticed that your gloves were gettin' a little worn, so I bought these at the store a while back,” you explain, laying the gloves on the table in front of him. “I remember you sayin' how much you liked the bluebells in front of the house, so I embroidered them onto the side.”

His smile drops for a moment, eyebrows furrowed while he studies the gloves. He picks them up reverently, almost as if he’s afraid to break them. When he meets your gaze, his eyes are glassy. You would almost swear you notice his eyes drop down to your lips, but chalk it up to the remnants of your earlier buzz messing with your head. Wooyoung clears his throat and stands.

“I can’t accept these,” he says, holding out the gloves for you to take.

“What? Why not?”

“I appreciate the gesture, ma’am. But these…these are much too fine for me. I couldn’t possibly take them.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. My embroidery ain't that good,” you tease, offering a smile. He chuckles, but his eyes are still tinged with concern. “I made 'em for you. Take 'em. They won’t fit me, anyway.”

He hesitates for a moment before breathing deeply and nodding. He matches your gaze.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll take good care of them.”

He bows his head and turns toward the door. Your heart sinks as you watch him slip out. Emboldened by your desperation, you bolt from your chair and call out to him.

“Wooyoung?”

He freezes, glancing over his shoulder at you nestled in the doorway. His hat is nestled in his palm, propped against his chest. The orange glow from the setting sun casts shadows across his face and halo around his body. He looks ethereal, more handsome than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Would you like to stay for a while? Have a drink and maybe some cake?”

His eyes widen. One of his eyebrows quirks up in disbelief. He opens his mouth to respond but then closes it. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your fingernails dig into the wooden frame around the door. He hardens his jaw, bowing his head respectfully.

“Thank you, ma’am. But I…still have a little bit of work to do tonight,” he replies. “The fence needs a couple more boards put up, and I-”

“Leave it,” you blurt. “Don’t…don’t worry about it tonight. It ain’t going nowhere.”

He hesitates again, dropping his gaze to his hat.

“You’ve been workin' real hard,” you say. “Harder than I expected you to. Why don’t you take tonight off. You’ve earned it.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. He nods.

Half an hour later, Wooyoung licks his fork clean, shaking his head.

“I'm not just being nice, Mrs. Reynolds, this cake is delicious,” he says.

You chuckle, waving a hand dismissively.

“It’s Bill’s mother’s recipe. I ain’t got nothin' to do with it.”

“Well, cheers,” he says, lifting the fork up to the photo of Bill.

You burst into giggles, tossing your head back. Wooyoung laughs, too. Somehow you’ve ended up on the floor in the parlor, shoes off and furniture ignored. His cheeks are flushed from the alcohol. You’ve drained the rest of the moonshine along with most of a strawberry pound cake. He seems impressed by your ability to handle the liquor, jokingly saying he was going to start calling you moonshine.

You grieve for the headache you know you’ll have tomorrow. But, right now, all you can think about is him.

“Tell me, Moonshine,” he says.

You lie down on your side on the floor and prop your head up with your hand.

“Tell you what?” you ask.

“About you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mrs. Y/N Reynolds,” he leans forward, elbows propped on his knees, “Who are you? Really?"

“Well, I was born and raised here in Texas. My daddy was a farmer, and I was raised on a small farm. I loved it. I always loved bein' outside. I didn’t mind the dirty work. Shortly after I turned twenty, I met Billy. Liked him enough to settle down and get married.”

“Liked?” His eyebrows raise. “Didn’t you love him?”

You hesitate, glancing over at the photo of Bill. When you look back at Wooyoung, your face is grim.

“I don’t know. He proposed so soon, and I…suppose a part of me just wanted so badly to be married already. I was tired of playin' the game. I hardly got the chance to really know Bill. We only had two good years together. Then, he got sick. Couldn’t get better. Then, he died.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you. That pang of betrayal slams into your chest. Why aren’t you crying? Shouldn’t you feel sad? You should be thinking about Bill, but all you can focus on is the gentle way Wooyoung is looking at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly.

You shrug.

“That’s life, right.”

You clear your throat and shift, positioning yourself next to him, your backs propped up against the sofa and socked feet extended toward the roaring fireplace.

“Alright, your turn,” you say. “Tell me about you.”

“What do you wanna know?”

“Hmmm…everything. Where were you born? What were your parents like? Did you have any sisters or brothers? How’d you get here? How’d you learn how to do all this?”

His signature crooked smile and dimples return.

“I don’t know where I was born. My mother and father died when I was two, and we were raised by the man who found us, Eli Jenkins. I have two brothers, one older and one younger. They both live in Montana. They work at ranches up there. Eli had a ranch, and the three of us learned everything we know from his ranch hands. When we were old enough, we started going out on cattle drives. We’ve been all over the west. We broke our backs during the day and then slept under the stars. Dongyoung and Kyungmi, my brothers, always wanted to go up to Montana where it snows, with the mountains and all that.”

“You didn’t?”

“Nah. I don’t like the cold,” he jokes, turning his head to shoot you a smirk.

You giggle.

“Anyway, I’ve…” his smile falls, replaced by a tight line. You straighten, sitting up. “I’ve never had a real home. Never had a woman like you in my life…until now.”

Your heart flutters. A muscle feathers in his jaw. This time, despite the alcohol and everything else, you’re certain you see his eyes drop to your lips. You allow your gaze to dip, too, tracing the fluid curve of his mouth. Your eyes flutter, threatening to close. You feel the heat of his body as he leans forward. You breathe shakily, lips parting in anticipation. His nose brushes against yours, the gentle touch small but welcome. You hear him exhale sharply, and your gut pulses. You tilt your head up with every intention of pressing your lips to his, but the second your eyes close, you see Bill’s face in your mind.

Gasping, you jerk away. You place your hand on his chest to push him back. His eyes open, brows furrowing. You shake your head, avoiding his gaze.

“I-I can’t,” you mumble. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

He pulls away, setting his jaw. He avoids your eyes.

“No,” he says quietly, seriously. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was inappropriate. I’m sorry, ma’am. It won’t happen again.”

Your mouth opens, and you almost beg him to stay, but your propriety gets the best of you and nothing comes out. You watch in silence, helpless and ashamed, as he disappears out the front door and into the night.

Your heart drops. As your mouth starts to quiver, you angrily glare at the photo of Bill, visible even from where you sit in the parlor.

“Why did you do this to me?” you whisper.

You curl your knees into your chest, letting the hot stream of tears paint your cheeks.

PART THREE

He stops coming to the house. He doesn’t come for breakfast. Or lunch. He takes his dinner back to the bunkhouse with him and eats it there. The fleeting moments where you do run into each other are painfully awkward and stiff. He refuses to meet your gaze, he doesn’t smile, he doesn’t joke. He’s professional to the point of being cold. You don’t even see him work out in the field anymore. He must have rearranged his schedule so that he handles the cattle and horses in the morning. It makes you wonder if he somehow knew how much you enjoyed watching him all those afternoons.

You feel miserable. The empty bottle of moonshine still sits in the kitchen underneath the photo of Billy, a haunting reminder of that night. You should have let him kiss you. You wanted him to kiss you, alcohol or not.

Despite you ruining everything, your body doesn’t seem to know the difference. You dream of him at night—sometimes it’s the memory of his glistening muscles in the sun, sometimes it’s his smile. Sometimes you wake up in a cold sweat. Others, you wake up burning hot, slick dripping down the inside of your thighs. You wipe it away. If someone’s going to finish you, you want it to be him and not your right hand.

You’re going on two weeks of this.

He’s done such an amazing job. He’s practically turned the ranch around. The animals are in the best shape of their lives, healthy and fed and strong. The barn is cleaner than you’ve ever seen it. The troughs are always full, stalls always mucked clean. He’s fixed the rusty bolt on the barn door, straightened framed photos inside the house that you’re too short to reach, repaired equipment, painted walls. He’s done everything you could have asked for and more. You can’t fire him.

But how much longer can you stand living like this? The agony of having him so close without being able to have him in the way you want, the way you crave?

The weather mirrors your mood today. Thick, dark clouds hover overhead. Rain drizzles onto the dirt and grass. A cold chill is in the air. You’re inside, sitting by the window in the parlor as usual. Thunder cracks in the distance as the rain begins to pick up.

You sigh heavily, gazing through the window just as you’ve done a thousand times. No Wooyoung. He’d gone into town this morning on a supply run, mentioning something about needing more nails to patch up the last bit of the broken fence.

You stare blankly across the sheets of pouring rain. Just as you’re about to look away, something catches your attention in the distance. You narrow your eyes to focus on it.

You gasp as you realize what you’re looking at. Your instincts kick in before you think twice. You shove your feet into the pair of rain boots you keep next to the door and dash outside. The dirt turns to mud under your feet as you rush to fling open the gate to the cow pen.

Somehow, one of the milk cows has escaped through the far side of the fence, right past the weak section that Wooyoung is in the middle of repairing. She’s wandering away from the house, her frantic moos almost drowned out by the downpour and the thunder.

“Bessie!” you shout.

You carefully step over the cracked pieces of wood and circle around to Bessie’s front. You curse as you realize that, in your haste to get to the cow, you forgot to bring rope. Lightning cracks, hitting a tree not too far away. Your heart jumps, panic striking through you. You nestle your shoulder against hers, pushing with all your weight. Bessie moos but begins to stumble in the direction you’re shoving her.

You pant as you throw your weight into each push, your boots slipping on the mud. Thunder cracks again, the lightning illuminating the darkened sky. You squeeze your eyes shut, fully concentrated on pushing Bessie toward the barn.

“Y/N!!” Your eyes flash open at the familiar voice. Wooyoung is sprinting toward you, unhitching the rope from his belt. “How the fuck did she get out here?!”

“I don’t know!” you yell back. “I looked out the window, and there she was!”

He moves to wrap the rope around Bessie’s neck, but you shove her away at the last second. You’re filled with sudden and inexplicable anger.

“I don’t need your help!” you shout.

“I’m not helping you!” he yells back. “I’m doing my job!”

You have no comeback for that.

He steps closer, leaning over you to secure the rope around Bessie’s neck. Your breath catches. Raindrops drip off the brim of his hat, landing on your nose. He clicks his tongue as he takes Bessie, tugging her back over the broken wooden shards, carefully watching her hooves. You watch in awe as he pulls her with ease. He tugs her across the pasture, you following at their heels like a helpless child. Wooyoung ushers Bessie into the barn like it's nothing.

He slams and locks the door behind him. You’re standing outside the barn, shoulders turned in as the rain drenches through your clothes. He grabs your arm, pulling you toward the bunkhouse. You stumble along, unsure why you’re letting him take you there when the main house is equally far away. But you let him. You snap out of your daze as soon as you’re safely inside. You whirl on him, but he initiates first.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouts.

“What?!”

“Why the hell would you run out into this weather like that?”

“You weren’t here! Bessie was in trouble! I had to do something!”

“No, you didn’t. You should have waited for me to get back. I would’ve handled it like I just did.”

“It’s my cow! My ranch! My problem!” you hiss through gritted teeth.

He matches your energy, clenching his jaw and glaring down at you. He reaches for the laces to your bodice, and you swat his hand away.

“How dare you!” you gasp.

“We have to get these clothes off you, or you’re gonna get sick! Your life is not worth one fucking cow!”

You open your mouth, about to yell back when you suddenly notice the state of the bunkhouse. Your anger melts. The walls have been painted, a soft eggshell white. The floor is swept cleanly, the bed pushed against the wall, the broken table leg fixed. A small red cotton pillow is perched on the rocking chair. The bed is made neatly, the quilt folded at the end. His clothes and shoes are also stacked neatly in the corner. A small lamp glows faintly on the nightstand, next to a blue ribbon and the gloves you’d gifted him.

“Oh…you…you fixed it up so nice,” you mumble. “How did you do all this?”

“I…er…this is how I spend my days off. I hope…is this okay?”

You look over at him, nodding profusely.

“Of course. It’s…wonderful. You’re wonderful,” you whisper the last part to yourself, hoping he can’t hear you.

You walk toward the nightstand, touching the gloves gently. You smile.

“You kept 'em.”

“Of course I did,” he says, like it’s obvious.

“I never saw you wear them. I...didn’t think you liked 'em.”

“Of course I like them. That’s why I don’t wear them. They’ll be destroyed. I-I want them to stay...pretty like that.”

Your gaze shifts to the ribbon and you pick it up. You raise an eyebrow as you show it to him. He stutters, cheeks flushing red.

“It must have fallen out of your hair. I found it on the floor in the kitchen. I was…I meant to give it back to you, I just…”

Your heart beats remarkably steadily considering the heat you feel. You let the ribbon slip from your fingers, crossing the small room in two steps. Your eyes never leave his, glued to his gaze like there’s a string between you. Pain is written all over his face, downturned mouth, flaring nostrils, knitted brows. You don’t hesitate, reaching up to cup his cheek. He inhales sharply.

And you pull him down to you, pressing your mouth firmly against his. He stalls for a second but then his arms wrap around you. You kiss him again. He angles his face to the side to reach you deeper. His nose presses up against yours, locking your faces together. One of his palms flattens on your lower back. The other one slides up your spine. You shudder at the sensation. His fingers snake up your neck and tangle into your dripping hair.

Your free hand reaches up to take the hat from his head, dropping it on the floor next to you. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip, and you open for him. Your fingertips thread between his hair to press him closer. Your tongues slip and slide against each other, saliva mixing deliciously.

His hands slide onto your stomach, and his fingers begin to unbutton your shirt. While he works, his lips slip from yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the side of your jaw and onto your neck. Your head lolls back, mouth open. Pants fly from your mouth each time his tongue drags up your skin. As he eases your unbuttoned shirt over your shoulders, he peppers your bare skin with soft kisses. Your stomach coils as a familiar ache builds below your hips.

He straightens, leaning his forehead against yours. Your eyes close instinctually. Your head bobs forward, breathless. But he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he anchors his knuckle under your chin and slides his thumb across your jaw. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he mumbles.

Your heart flutters. He moves to unbutton your skirt and bloomers. They pool at your feet. Before you can react, his arms wrap tightly around your waist. He picks you up and steps back once, pulling you out from your shed clothes.

Your hands slide down his chest, fingers fumbling with the buttons frantically. The image of him sweaty and bare in the field flashes through your mind. You want to see him. Now.

He pulls back, eyes black with hunger as he watches the way you rip his shirt from his chest. A gasp escapes your chest when it comes off. You greedily run your palms across his smooth chest, catching your lip in your teeth at the feeling of his muscles pulled taut. You can’t drag your eyes away from him. He smirks, a breathless chuckle spilling out.

“Like what you see, ma’am?” he says.

You open your mouth to speak but find yourself silenced. So, you just nod your head dazedly. Before you can collect yourself, his hand wraps around your wrist. He guides your touch down his abdomen. You whimper as you watch his abs contract under your fingertips. Your fingers brush over the cold metal of his belt buckle.

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze, as if asking for permission. In response, his lips capture yours again. This time, he kisses you deep and slow. You unlatch his belt and the buttons of his pants. As you work, your core begins to throb just as fast as your pounding heart.

Distracted by his mouth, you barely even notice that he’s moving you until you’re falling back gently onto the mattress. You unlace and drop your boots as he sheds his jeans and boots. You watch, enraptured as he plants himself securely between your legs on the bed. His eyes drag slowly down your form.

“This is insanely inappropriate…” he says quietly.

A flicker of concern flashes across his face. Your breath shutters. Impatiently, you grasp at his wrist. Then you pull his hand up toward your chest. He spreads his fingers in anticipation when you place his fingers at the hollow of your neck.

“I don’t give a shit,” you reply.

“But you’re my employer. What if-”

“Yes, exactly. I’m payin' you to do a job—whatever I need. And, right now, I need you. So, if I tell you to touch me, then you do it. Or I’ll fire your ass right now.”

His eyes sparkle mischievously as his touch moves shamelessly down your chest, palm ghosting over the curve of your breasts. Your chest heaves under his gaze, as if rising to meet his touch. He nods, grinning.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He leans down and presses heated kisses to your throat as his fingers work to unlatch the hooks on the front of your corset. Your back arches into him. He sucks on your skin, his spit spreading across your chest. You lean up to slide your arms out of the corset, and he takes the opportunity to sink his teeth into your shoulder. Something in between a moan and gasp slips from your mouth. You feel his breath hot against you as he chuckles.

“You like that?” he mutters against your neck. “When I bite you there?”

You just catch your lip in your teeth. He does it again. You moan quietly, throwing your head back at the sore sensation spreading through your muscles. He removes the straps of your chemise and pulls the thin fabric down to reveal your breasts. He releases a shaky breath, both palms sliding onto the sensitive nubs. He massages your sore breasts, thumb brushing over your nipples.

He leans down to take one in his mouth, nipping at it and then swiping his tongue over the hurt. Your fingers grasp at his back and neck, fingertips digging into his skin. One of his hands wraps around the outside of your thigh. It snakes upward, pushing your chemise aside as he goes. You wriggle in his grasp, pressing your thighs against his sides.

You don’t even know what your body is doing. It’s been so long since you had this, you almost can’t remember what it felt like. Then again, it never felt quite like this will Bill.

Your hips buck up toward him, your body begging him for friction against that desperate ache between your legs. He laughs breathily against your neck but pulls back to sit up on his knees. You gasp, fingers slipping from his skin. He smirks down at you, hair tangled and wet. His eyes drop down your figure once and then he’s moving again.

You watch, frozen, as his fingertips trail back down your thigh and hook into the hem of your stockings. He pushes your leg up toward him and slides your stocking down. Then, he takes his time, pressing teasingly chaste kisses to your shin, your knee, the top of your thigh. He repeats the process on the other side.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours again, you lose your breath at the intensity of his gaze. He maintains your stare while he moves your thigh back to his mouth, only breaking eye contact when he plants an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh.

You can feel how swollen you are. You feel full, like you need to be emptied, and he’s the only person alive who could do it the way you need it.

He kisses you again on the other side. And then again, and again, all the while lowering himself down to be on eye-level with your aching core. He glances up at you again as he gently pushes your chemise onto your stomach, leaving your legs parted and open for him. A smirk tugs at his lips as he studies your pussy. He hums approvingly.

“There she is…” he says quietly. “All red and swollen. Perfect just like that.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, biting back a moan. Bill never talked to you like that.

Wooyoung kisses your thigh once more before sliding one fingertip down your dripping folds. A relieved groan escapes your lips. You wriggle as he strokes you again. His thumb finds your clit, and you buck toward him. You can’t see him with your eyes shut, but you can envision his satisfied smirk at having you so helpless under his touch. He drags his finger along your folds a few more times before he plunges one inside. You moan, your hands fisting the sheets.

“Damn, Moonshine,” he whines. “You’re soaked. All this for me?” You can’t respond because he inserts another finger, curving them up inside you. “You like my fingers, don’t you? When I do that? Yeah, baby, I know you do.”

He curves them again—you moan. He moves slowly, pulling them out and pushing back in rhythmically. Just as you’re about to beg for more, you feel a new sensation.

Your eyes flash open, and you look down to see his face buried between your legs. His breath is hot against your folds, but his tongue is the star of the show. He drags it along your wetness, flat and hungry, as if you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. When he slides it into you, your eyes roll back into your head. Your hands move to his hair, gripping hard. Your hips jerk with every swipe of his tongue. Increasing the stimulation, his beautiful straight nose rubs against your clit with every thrust of his tongue.

You moan between pants, muttering “right there” quietly, over and over, to tell him when he’s hitting you just right. He hums into you, the vibration making you lightheaded. You can feel yourself start to crest. Your groans fade into quiet panting, your hips lift, and your eyes squeeze shut tightly.

But he lifts his head, and you deflate. You look down and whine at the sight of him—hair mussed, lips swollen, nose all the way down to chin shiny and covered in you. He smirks for a quick moment before his hands are curving around your thighs. He pulls you down on the bed and then slides an arm behind your back, shifting you up onto his lap. Your hands snap onto his shoulders to brace yourself. You gasp as you sit on him, feeling every inch of how badly he needs you, too. At some point he had managed to slip out of his own underwear, leaving him swollen and bare underneath your thighs.

“Hi, Moonshine,” he says, as innocently as he can considering your current situation.

He reaches up, tugging your bottom lip down with his thumb. You have no idea what comes over you when you dip your head, taking it into your mouth instead. You swipe his fingertip with the pad of your tongue. His eyes widen for a moment, and he just watches. Then, he tilts his head and shifts his hand to shove his first and middle fingers into your mouth. You moan onto them, tongue tasting yourself.

“Yeah? You taste good, don’t you baby? I never tasted anything so sweet. You got me hard as a rock. You can feel it can’t you? How bad I need that sweet, sweet pussy?”

You whine when he slips his fingers out of your mouth. He guides your hips up, just far enough so that he can line himself up with your entrance. You grip his shoulders hard, hissing as he slowly helps you sink onto his cock. He groans, leaning his forehead against your chest.

“Shit, Moonshine…you’re so loose,” he whispers, voice low and rasped. He chuckles. “And so, so fucking wet. You been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Dreaming about me deep inside you like this? I bet you’ve imagined all sorts of dirty things, huh, baby?”

“Yeah,” you admit breathily, fingers tugging at his hair. 

“How long? How long have you wanted me like this and not said anything? Was it that night at the main house?”

“Before…” you whisper, hips twitching on him. “Long before. That day in May when you were workin' out in the field. I watched you from the window. You were bare from the waist up, sweaty and muscled—just like this. I thought I was having a heart attack, my heart was beatin' so damn fast.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I wanted you from day one,” he says. “The first day I came to your door, the first second I laid eyes on you. I wanted you. Just like this, bare and sat on my lap, my cock buried deep inside, my name spilling from your lips.”

You nudge your nose against his, his words making your stomach churn. You shift on him again, begging him to move.

“Please…” you whine, pressing into him. “Please move.”

“Say it.”

“What? Say what?”

“My name. I wanna hear it. Tell me, baby. Whose tongue fucked you so good? Whose cock is gonna make you scream?”

You bite your lip, nudging your nose against his again.

“Wooyoung,” you whisper against his mouth. “Please, Woo.”

He finally obliges, guiding your hips as he shows you what to do, how he wants you to move on him. You settle into a slow circular rhythm—sitting down and then flicking your hips back just barely as you move up. One of his arms snakes around your waist, pressing your chest onto his. His other hand cradles the back of your head, pulling your lips down as he kisses you deeply.

Your hands interlock behind his neck to keep your body steady as he drills up into you. You whisper his name against his lips, over and over and over as he fucks up into you.

He dips his fingertips into your mouth, telling you, “Spit, Moonshine.” And then he moves his touch back to your clit, rubbing circles while you move on him. The coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. Each stroke of his fingers threatens to send you over the edge.

His thrusts grow sloppier, his breathing ragged. Your thighs are beginning to shake and burn, and you can feel yourself starting to clench.

“Woo…I can’t,” you whine against his lips.

“Then let go,” he responds, equally as breathless. “You can. Let go all over my cock, Moonshine. Coat me in you.”

Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling his face against your shoulder. He sinks his teeth into the skin as you clench around him. He holds you tightly, rocking you through each wave of your orgasm. Your brain fogs with the pleasure, taking you away from time and place. You can’t remember exactly how or when, but Woo's warmth floods into you, too. His arms warp tightly around your waist and his face nuzzles against your neck.

As you start to come back down, your legs turn into noodles. Wooyoung gently lays you back onto the mattress. He slides out and pulls up the quilt before collapsing beside you.

Neither of you speaks or moves for a few moments—you just lie together in silence. Soon, his hand finds yours underneath the quilt, fingers threading between yours.

“You did so good, baby,” he mumbles. “You took me so good.”

You roll over, resting your chin against his chest. He adjusts his head and smiles down at you.

“I’s thinkin',” you say quietly, “you did such a nice job out in the pasture and with the barn and with this place. Maybe you could work a little more on the main house, too.”

His eyebrows raise as he considers your suggestion, and then he nods.

“I suppose I could do that. It might take a while seeing as the main house is pretty big, but I could work on it here and there.”

“I’s…also thinkin' that, if you’re gonna be workin' on the main house so much, you’ll probably be spendin' a lot more time up there.” His eyebrow quirks upward, clearly unsure as to where you’re going with this. “It doesn’t seem to make much sense to have you walk back and forth every single day from this little shack to the house.”

“What are you getting at, Moonshine?”

The ghost of a smile is tugging at his lips, letting you know that he’s starting to see what you’re suggesting.

“Just seems easier if you go on ahead and move into the main house with me. Now, there is a second bedroom but it’s full of Billy’s old things. We might be able to get it cleaned up, but I suppose in the meantime we’ll just have to share my bed.”

The corner of his mouth curves up in a deep smirk.

“I suppose that sounds real nice, ma’am.”

You push yourself up, eyes studying his lips for a moment before you kiss him deeply. He holds your mouth close for a long time before releasing you. You nestle into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of leather and fresh rain that lingers on his skin. With his arm wrapped around you, he gently strokes your hair. You trace patterns on his smooth, warm chest.

“Wooyoung?”

“Mhm?”

“This can be real,” you whisper. “This place. It can be your real home.”

“It already is, Moonshine. My home is wherever you are.”

EPILOGUE

His laughter sounds from the pasture in front of the house. That sound. You love that sound. It feels like a warm burst of sunlight cutting through a long winter. Mischievous, boyish, melodic. Unmistakably his.

You can’t help but smile as you watch from the doorway. He dashes in circles as your newest foal stumbles after him. For a few moments, you don’t say anything. You just watch and try to memorize every single detail of this perfect moment.

“Wooyo!” you shout. “Come inside for supper!”

His head snaps toward you, a beautiful smile pasted across his handsome features. Still, after seven years, he manages to take your breath away. His long black hair lays in waves over his forehead. His button down is only half-buttoned with the sleeves rolled up—just the way you like it.

He saunters over, grin softening. Under the light of the setting sun, his eyes sparkle. Affection. You recognize it immediately.

“Mmm, smells good, Moonshine,” he says huskily.

You giggle when he lowers his lips down to yours. His hand is perched above your head to brace himself on the doorframe. He leans against you, pushing his body weight on top of your figure. You sigh contentedly as your mouths move together. When he pulls back, he looks at you for a moment. His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

And then, his head tilts suddenly, and he raises his eyebrows. You shake your head. That’s his “I’m about to do something naughty” face.

“What're yo-?”

But your question is interrupted by Wooyoung’s strong arms encircling your waist and lifting you up. You yelp as he tosses you over his shoulder with ease. He starts walking inside the house. Your stomach aches as you laugh, playfully smacking his back.

“What are you doing, you idiot!” you shout, breathlessly in between giggles.

“Taking you to our bedroom.”

“But I just made dinner!”

“It ain’t going nowhere. I’m having dessert first tonight.”

He lays you down on the bed. You wrap your arms around him as he crawls on top of you. Your laughs fade to love-drunk whispers as the sun dips below the horizon on your perfect little life.

taglist: @rileylovescats @wooyoungsbrat @estrnrea

[arcticmist0324]

There was definitely a huge wave of fannish music, specifically “wizard rock” (called wrock) in the late 2000s and early 2010s. In 2014, there was a MASSIVE shock to the community as many prominent creators were accused of a number of abusive behaviors (towards both other fans and creators). It was a mess. I discuss it a bit more in the tags.

Hank Green (who is someone who was involved in this space and has a reputation for being a stand-up human and not a creep) even made a video in response. It’s still up on the Vlogbrothers YouTube channel. It’s titled “Sexual Abuse, Consent, and Culture.” He doesn’t delve into specifies, but it’s a good sense of the things being discussed at the time. (A lot of the creators who were accused were tied in with the Nerdfighter community).

Oh, and I remember this but I don’t think many other do, but there was also Hunger Games-themed music called Rockingjay. There was overlap with Wizard Rock (which might be a reason it didn’t really go anywhere because… well 2014 happened).

I'm meant to be writing so naturally my brain went into asking the real questions— why don't we have fandom music? We have all forms of expressive art, writing, drawing, editing. The more physical forms of art, sewing outfits, forging swords, acting, even audi narrating fics. So basically all art forms in order to further explore our blobros and yet— no music? Why is it? I am genuinely curious why songwriting and music-making is the one form of art that is not present in the daily fandom life? Yes there's music video edits, even people recreating music from shows on piano etc— but that's not what I mean, I mean honest to god making a real, proper, lyric and music and singing original song for your blobro. Why don't we have that?

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You face with some hard feelings, and Zayne is there to comfort you.}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Possessive Behavior, NS!FW, P0rn with feelings lol, Love Confession, Cowg!rl

Chapter 13: Grief

Seeing Sylus during the day is always a pleasant surprise, so imagine your shock when he’s knocking on your door at 7am. Much to a very sleepy, very cranky Xavier’s dismay. 

The blond huffs in displeasure when you leave the bed, and takes a pillow to cover his head when you open the door. Your butt is sore, stinging as you walk, and you’re certain there’s hand-shaped red marks there. 

“Good morning, kitten.” Sylus drawls, leaning against the doorframe, “Late night?”

Xavier had been gone for a single day, and had come back ravenous. “You could say that. What are you doing up so early? If you’re here for cuddles, I have to get up and get to work so you're a little late.”

“You’re so cruel to me, sweetie.” Sylus places a hand over his heart in mock agony, “But no– despite how tempting your bed is, I come with other business. You’ll need to kick your prince out,  the delivery truck is here and they need the room.”

“What truck?” You ask as you cross your arms, “I didn’t order anything.”

“I did.” Sylus replies, “A bigger bed, remember? Now, scoot, I’ll get the boy out.”

Sylus pushes past you and enters your room. He’s already grinning like a cheshire cat before he even reaches the bed. With more force than necessary he yanks the blankets back and Xavier groans, clenching his hands on the pillow over his head. 

“Rise and shine, my prince.” Sylus’ voice is so teasing yet so fond. 

While Sylus torments Xavier, poking at him and trying to pry the pillow away, you go to the closet to get dressed. Better to leave those two to sort things out themselves. 

It’s getting closer to spring now, and you’re not sure where the time went. Passing by in a flash of busy days and busy nights, but you don’t feel like you’ve missed out on anything. You don’t dread the passage of time anymore, which is new. And nice. 

It’s the middle of the week, so you’ve got plenty to do. You still do your job, despite how difficult the men make it sometimes. You have to wait to clean the studio when Rafayel’s not there, otherwise he’ll pull you into his latest painting. Asking for your opinions or assisting you in some new brush technique he wants you to know. 

You’re starting to think he likes having you sign his work. There’s over a dozen paintings now with your name signed just below his– much smaller of course. His manager Thomas had shown up in an outrage at the sight of it, claiming those can’t be sold now. Rafayel had just laughed at him. 

Xavier has some form of narcolepsy– you’re sure of it. When he’s not out working, he’s here napping. And you have to be extra careful because that man’s ears are sharp, and if you wake up him? Well, you’re taking a nap too. 

Zayne and Sylus are the only ones who don’t pose an immediate threat to you getting your job done. Likely because Zayne works so much, and Sylus is nocturnal.    

When you enter the bedroom, the bed is empty and Xavier has Sylus on his back on the floor. The blond knee is against Sylus’ stomach, but the pinned man looks unfazed. Smirking in amusement. 

“So cranky.” Sylus taunts from below, “Don’t take it out on me. I’m just the messenger.”

Xavier clicks his tongue. The hand he has braced against the floor comes up to rest at the base of Sylus’ throat, “If not you, then who do I take it out on?”

Sylus replies with a decadent laugh, and his eyes glance towards you and then back up, “Don’t start things you can’t finish, my prince.” 

Xavier huffs and rises to his feet, offering Sylus a hand to pull him up as well. 

“I should get to work,” You say, “How long will the delivery guys take?”

Sylus rolls his shoulders and then shrugs, “An hour? Perhaps two? You still have some time, don’t you? Why don’t we go–”

“No.” You interrupt him, “I won’t be dragged off to your den again! The last time the two of you got ahold of me I passed out!”

Xavier’s grinning, like you’d spoken of some great accomplishment he’d achieved, “What if I promise to be gentle? I can be gentle if you want me to, bunny.”

He’s delicately brushing his fingers through your hair, and you can feel your resolve weakening. 

When Sylus places a hand to your lower back, it’s just a light. The slowly heating pot, and you’re the frog. “We could just relax. Go slow. Is that what you want?”

“I…” You shake your head and step back, “I need to work. You two are corrupting influences, and you’re going to get me in trouble.”

Sylus chuckles while Xavier frowns. 

You turn on your heel and enter the hallway, followed closely by your fair-haired puppies. Even without looking you can tell their footsteps apart. Sylus’ heavier,  louder steps. He makes no effort to be quiet, at least, not at home. Xavier is so much quieter. Even though he’s not that much smaller than Sylus, he’s practically featherlight. 

“How big is the bed?” Xavier asks as you scale the steps.

“Alaskan  King.” Sylus replies, “I was going to order a custom mattress, but the size I wanted wouldn’t fit inside the room.”

“An Alaskan King?” You scoff, “I’ve never even heard of that. Why not make my whole floor mattress at that point?”

“Tempting, but Zayne argued that we should do that to a different room. He’s very concerned about you maintaining your personal space.” Sylus snickers. 

You enter the kitchen and set to making breakfast, having to push Xavier out of it twice before he resigns to take a seat at the bar. 

“I think he might be the only sane person here.” You sigh, “How does bagel sandwiches sound?”

“That sounds lovely.” Xavier says as he rests his chin in his hand, “Though, are you including yourself in that tally for sanity?”

You can’t help but laugh, “Oh, absolutely not. I’m the worst one of all of you.”

“Why’s that, kitten?” Sylus shifts in his seat, pulling out his phone to rest it on the counter. 

“Because despite every rational part of me telling me this is insane,” You turn your back to them, needing to keep your hands busy as you speak. A sudden rush of affection leaves you feeling open and raw, “I keep ignoring it. At every turn, at every red flag– I can’t help but stay.”

You’re cracking eggs into a bowl, mind wondering if maybe you are insane. This certainly wasn’t the life you thought you’d pick for yourself, but every cell inside you thrives in it. A long parched part of you finally quenched. Finally able to breathe for the first time. 

You know it’s Sylus who touches you just by where he does it. A hand snaking across your lower back– his favorite spot for some reason. He lets his hand rest on your hip and he coaxes your attention away from the food and up to his face. 

“Is that so bad?” He whispers, sounding– for the first time since you’ve met him– unsure. 

“No.” You reply instantly. “I’m not complaining. Just…I’m happy here. With you. It feels weird sometimes.”

When Sylus steals a kiss, Xavier isn’t far behind. And it takes some convincing to get them back to their seats. A little moment of affection that leaves you feeling sticky and sweet inside.

It’s late afternoon. Your ‘shift’ just ended and you’re sitting alone in your bedroom. Xavier and Zayne have yet to come home from work. Rafayel’s in his studio– working on some new painting that he claims was inspired by your night out over a week ago. And Sylus went to bed the minute the delivery guys finished. 

Your bed now takes up half the room, and sitting alone in it feels horrifically empty. You scold yourself for feeling so blue about it. You’re a big girl! You can handle being alone for a little while. 

Your old phone feels heavy in your hand. The screen is off, and you’ve been spinning it back and forth for over ten minutes now. Gaining the courage to do something you haven’t done in a while. 

It’s been nagging you. Haunting you. The festering wound in your heart reminding you of who you’ve lost in those moments in between moments. In the seconds between sentences, when the room falls quiet, it reminds you. Echoes of memory making the room feel cold. 

You didn’t see Caleb that night. You keep telling yourself that. It was the alcohol. It was a trick of the light. It was anything but the impossibility of Caleb being alive. Alive and in front of you. 

So, for the first time since the explosion, you turn on your phone. The little charm attached to the case rattling a little, and the plain blue background that you changed it to months ago greeting you. 

You open the photos app. The mere sight of it making a pit form in your stomach. It feels like opening a crypt, and you don’t feel ready to view remnants from a life that doesn’t feel like yours anymore. 

The tiled view of photos comes up, and you feel your breath catch. The last photo you took is one of Rafayel asleep in the studio. He’d passed out with a sketchbook on his face and you’d take a photo of it, then one of the graphite marks on his face. 

The next is you and Xavier. You’re holding up the phone to catch the disaster in the kitchen. Flour covering the counters and a plate of sad mostly-burnt cookies in Xavier’s hands. He’s smiling proudly with flour on his face and his shirt. 

Another down and there’s you and Zayne. There’s snow in his hair and the barest of smiles on his lips. It was in front of the hospital after your last checkup (it was not nearly as unorthodox as the one before that). The two of you had gotten some hot tea afterwards in the hospital courtyard.

You continue to scroll. Screenshots of messages from the group chat you wanted to keep, and the photos from your day out with Sylus that you saved. 

Then comes the older photos. 

The photos are sparse, weeks or months apart. One of you and Tara in front of a statue in the park. She’s beaming with her arm around your shoulders, fingers up in a happy peace sign. You’re holding the phone, and your smile is small. Barely managed behind the dark circles that look severe even to you. 

Then there’s photos of flowers. Large arrangements of chrysanthemums, gladiolus and roses with letters of condolences. You took photos of the tags to remind yourself to send thank you notes– you never did. 

Later still, and there’s Zayne again. He’s in his white coat standing at the nurse’s station. You’d been waiting almost an hour to see him and so you snuck a photo without him noticing. 

Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling. You move through the past quicker now, and when he finally comes up,  you almost miss it. 

It shocks you. Seeing his face so clearly on your phone screen makes your muscles tense. It’d been so long since you’d looked at a picture of him that it’s like your body forgot what it felt like. 

Caleb’s got you in a headlock, holding the phone high above your head and grinning triumphantly while you reach for it. Your face is squished in his arm, cheeks smushed upwards but you can tell you’re laughing in the picture.

Your eyes sting, and you curse softly. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this still. It was supposed to feel nostalgic. Why did it hurt so much still? Weren’t you supposed to be healed now? All patched up with love and kisses? 

You swipe away from the photo and it’s more nonsense for a while. Some pictures of food and random things you’d thought were pretty. You curse again. Why didn’t you take more pictures of him? Why did you waste so much time with stupid nonsense stuff like this?

The screen goes black. A little shudder of light glitching before it falls dark in your palm. Through the dew collected in your eyes, you scoff. Shaking the phone and tapping the button to get the screen to come back on. 

It flickers for a moment, and then it’s back. But not where you left it. 

It’s the maps app, not photos. A pin dropped right at your old apartment. For a moment you’re frozen, confusion making your brain work a little slower. What the hell?  

The phone chimes, and vibrates softly in your palm. And the pin turns into directions. The gentle voice of the GPS telling you to take a right. You drop the phone onto the bed, startled by the eerie response. 

Was it a ghost? Or the hacker? 

Be reasonable , your mind pleads. This isn’t someone reaching from the beyond to give you a sign. That didn’t happen. This was some kind of trap. The hacker, or stalker– whatever he was– wanted you to take the bait. 

Picking the phone back up, you hold down the power button until it turns off, and with a little more force than necessary you throw it down onto the bedside table. It smacks against the surface before sliding and thudding to the floor. 

Your new phone– the brick Sylus gave you– sits next to you on the bed still, and a part of you wants to pick it up and call one of them. Rafayel is just down the hall. Sylus just downstairs. You should call one of them– both of them– because you can feel yourself beginning to fall apart and you don’t want to be alone. You can’t stand it now. This oversized monstrosity of a bed too empty and your heart too full to process what you’re feeling.

But you don’t. Your hand won’t move. It won’t do the right thing and call for someone because your hands are going to your hair, gripping at your hairline and holding tight as that first, ragged breath of air enters your lungs. It’s the only warning you have before you’re sobbing.

It’s been a while since you’ve cried for him. It felt like it would never end at one point, nights spent clinging to cold pillows until you sleep from pure exhaustion. It cracks you. The swell of ice on cement, splitting you open until it’s all you can do but cry. Tears soaking your face and snot running down your nose. 

The door opens, and you barely hear it. You’re sitting in the middle of the bed, knees up to your chest and hands covering your face. You weren’t even trying to be quiet, but how could you? When grief swallows you and spits you out so violently that you’re left without your mind or senses. 

You hear your name being called and then, “What happened?”

It’s Zayne. You hadn’t expected that. 

You lift your head, only barely able to make out the blurry form of him. The white of his shirt and the cream colored vest he wore. You’re not sure why, but seeing him makes another fit of sobs sputter out of you. 

You realize it when you reach for him, uncurling from the fetal position to branch out towards him. It’s because he’s safe. Because he’s here and he’s real, and he’ll understand. You’re not alone, careening over stormy waves, capsizing at any moment. 

Your door is left open in his rush, and he crosses the short distance in a single stride. He takes your hand first, pulling you up and into his arms. He doesn’t ask again what happened. Not until you’re fully wrapped up in him. His arms wrap tight around you, hand firm on the back of your head that keeps you snug against his shoulder. 

You hiccup softly and sob again, a new wave of tears soaking into his pristine shirt. You’ll feel bad for it later, but not right now. 

Zayne sits up against the headboard and holds you close, legs bent on either side of you. He keeps his face to your hair, and shushes you gently. Waiting until you’ve stopped heaving with sorrow when he asks again, “What happened?”

You whimper against him and press your face tighter into him. You can’t bear to be seen right now, for him to look you in the eye– and you can’t stand the sight of his concern. “I..I-I m-miss…I miss Caleb.”

Zayne doesn’t react for a moment, and his hand drifts down to pet your hair. “I see.” He says gently, barely a whisper.

“I…I thought I saw him.” You croak out, sniffling. “When we went out, I swear– I swear someone looked like him and I just…I…I don’t know w-why it still hurts so m-much.”

“Shh…” Zayne hushes tenderly, “He was and still is important to you. It will hurt for as long as it hurts.”

“I should be happy though.” You whisper, turning to rest your head against his chest. Your body is slowly relaxing, and your voice less shaky, “I have you. And the others and I…I love you. So much.”

Zayne moves you, drawing you up to look at him. He takes the side of your face in one palm, and when he speaks he’s breathless, “If we lost you, do you think the fact there are others would soothe that wound?”

You pause, “I…”

“You have and will always occupy a place in my heart that no one else can fill.” Zayne breathes, “Just as I know, there will always be space for him in yours.”

You exhale a shaky, wet breath and tuck your head back into his neck, suddenly exhausted. “I’m sorry…”

Zayne turns his face to kiss your brow, “Don’t be. There’s nothing to apologize for. Cry, if you want to. I’ll be here.”

You settle against Zayne, and don’t cry again. Perhaps you got it all out of you already, or maybe having the security of his arms does soothe something inside you. He continues to pet your hair, brushing it out of your face and behind your ear. The room is silent, save for the sound of yours and his breathing. 

It feels so strange. So bizarrely right to be here. You’re terrified to lose it, and the realization of that makes your stomach twist. You hold onto Zayne a little tighter, and he responds in kind. 

“I love you…too.” Zayne whispers after a long while. You lift your head, the trails of tears down your cheeks nothing but dry salt now. 

“Huh?” You blurt, sounding a little too surprised. 

“You said it…earlier.” His voice is weak and he won’t look you in the eye. “I wanted to say it back.”

“Oh,” You’re staring at him, unable to find words for a moment, “I…thank you.”

“Did you not mean–”

“No! No, I meant it!” You quickly amend. You pull your legs up to sit on your heels in between his legs, hands resting on his chest, “I love you. I love you, and I mean it! I just never thought– I didn’t think you’d ever like me back.”

Zayne’s face scrunches, “You thought I wouldn’t– That’s–”

“Let’s not dissect that.” You interrupt him again. You’re smiling now, and you feel the salt on your face like tight lines. You take a moment, soaking it all in, looking at the uncertainty in his expression that slowly eases the longer he looks at you. You bite your lip, feeling a little giddy– feeling a little crazy, and whisper, “ You love me.”

Zayne grins, “You’re foolish if you thought I didn’t.”

He pulls you to him, and when your lips meet there’s a smile there. A true proper smile. You feel breathless, going from such a low to such an extravagant high. A part of you wants to feel guilty, but a larger part of you wants to wrap yourself in Zayne’s silken embrace. Drown in the affection he offers and dine upon the distracting and sublime love you feel. 

It’s slow. There’s only the barest amount of heat in Zayne’s kiss. The warmth of the sun on a winter’s day. It melts the frigid sorrow that collects on your bones, eased by the light brush of his fingers and the caress of his lips. 

When you move to straddle his waist, he inhales sharply and you notice he’s already hard. He twitches a little, and when you look at his face, he’s flushed from the tips of his ears down to his collarbone. You’re sure, if you can get his shirt off, that he’s flush all the way down.

He always turns such a pretty shade of pink when he’s excited. Rafayel always teases him about it, and it only makes the doctor all the more rosy.

“We don’t–” Zayne gasps, speaking in between kisses, “We don’t have to do–”

You bite at his lower lip, reprimanding him for even suggesting you stop. It’s so rare that you get Zayne to yourself, not that you mind sharing. Zayne has the most interesting reaction to the others. Sometimes he’s mean, and sometimes he’s so hard you wonder where he learned it. But when it’s just the two of you? 

“I’ll do it.” You whisper into his mouth, and he drinks it in with a ragged inhale. “Let me…please…”

Your hands are a little shaky, and your limbs feel a little loose– so it takes a minute to unbutton his vest. He lets you do it; spending that time pushing up the hem of your shirt to caress his hands along the skin of your waist. 

“Anything.” His voice is barely a whisper, “Anything you want.”

You slide the vest from him and work on his shirt. He stops you before you can get to his belt, and gently pulls your shirt off of you. The rest of your clothes discarded onto the floor, forgotten. The cool air of the room sends goosebumps down your skin, and Zayne’s delicate touch makes your whole body shiver. 

“Lay back for me,” It’s a gentle command, coupled with a hand on your sternum pressing you back. You watch his eyes fall down your nude form, dragging like a physical touch to linger on your cunt. He’s got a gleam in his eye, this unspeaking hunger that makes his eyes look more gold than green. 

“No,” You press against his hand, and use both of yours to press him back against the headboard, “No, I don’t need it. Just let me– Let me feel you.”

His face slackens a little, and his shoulders tense– anticipation making his cock twitch. He’s so pretty. The scars on his arms and his chest, like constellations in the cosmos. You draw your fingertips along them and he shudders. 

You don’t waste time. The space between here and there is too far away, and so without another touch you straddle him again. You place your hands on his shoulders, and in surprise, he grabs your waist. His firm grip stops you from sinking down onto him, and you whine a little. 

“S-slow down.” Zayne’s words say one thing, but you can feel the tip of him prod your entrance, and it’s throbbing. His hips barely moving in half-aborted, involuntary thrusts. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

You drag your palms up his shoulders to cup the sides of his face, “Then hurt me.” You speak the words against his lips, punctuating them with a loose kiss. “Let it hurt, please.”

Zayne’s eyes go a little foggy, and the hands that were keeping you up, are now pulling you down. You click your tongue and kiss him again, grabbing his hands and moving them off your waist. He downright whimpers as you tear his fingers off your sinful waist, and press his wrists down next to his head. 

“What–” He slurs, eyes flicking between your face and the miniscule space between your dripping heavenly pussy and the weeping tip of his cock. It’s barely a centimeter away. You can see him calculating how much he needs to move his hips to get inside, a ragged desperation swallowing him up. 

“I said, ” You hush, “That I’ll do it. So, let me do it. Let me– ahh–” You swipe your hips wide, avoiding him entering you to grind against the length of him. “L-let me love you.”

“ O-oh,” He’s groaning. Whether from the slick heat of your cunt dragging against him from base to tip, or from the sound of it is unclear. It’s a wicked sound, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise so that Zayne can hear it. 

You’re surprised Zayne hasn’t fought against your hold. He’s letting his wrists be pinned, prone beneath you like a worshipping supplicant. Face red and forehead already breaking out in a sweat. 

Maybe it’s the intimacy of it. Maybe it’s the fact you're controlling him without the aid of one of the others. Xavier has, on two separate occasions, taken charge through you. Telling you how to move Zayne and how to undo him. Sylus is always more direct. He likes to be the one to pin Zayne down, and the sight of them is something unholy to behold. Rafayel likes to observe at first. Taking a backseat at the beginning and stepping in to orchestrate his lessers with a firm, divine hand. 

“You feel…so good…” You cooed, grinding a little faster now. The friction is delectable, but not nearly enough. You’re eager to end the teasing, but you don’t for the simple fact that Zayne looks too pretty all flustered by the mild stimulation. 

“ Ngh– P-please, my love. This is–” Zayne chokes a little when you circle your hips right around the sensitive head of his cock, “ Ahn! This is too m-much.”

Deciding to put you both out of your misery, you rise up– and the instant you do Zayne’s gasping, hips rolling to line himself up. You can’t help but giggle, eagerness is a good look on him. 

The stretch of him is heavenly. That deep aching in your belly settled by his cock pressing in. Bracing your hands on his chest, you use that leverage to slowly– so slowly sink down onto him, and you both sigh in utter, hedonistic relief when you bottom out.

There’s a moment where you catch your breath. Adjust . Zayne’s free hands are pulling you towards him, kissing you as he thrusts his hips upwards ever so slightly. You squeak against his lips and then moan into his mouth when you lift up and then back down. 

He lets you set the pace. He lets you move as you wish, riding him slowly at first– relishing in the friction. But you’re speeding up, quickly sinking into a thick desire that demands more, more, more . 

“Slow down, love.” Zayne croons, grabbing handfuls of your hips and slowing you down, much to your utter dismay. A pathetic mewl leaves your reddened lips, and you fight against his hold trying to press down harder. 

“I want it– Faster, Zayne. F-faster please.” You cry, scratching his chest and leaving little pink lines behind. “Fuck me. Oh god, please.”

“You ask so sweetly,” Zayne is panting. Half-lost in the slick heat of your pussy gripping him, “ God, keep going. Beg me again.”

“Zayne!” You squeal, a sharp lash of pleasure zipping up your spine. His voice is wrecked– low and commanding. “ Please, please, please!”

To Zayne, you’re ethereal. The line of your body is the signature on his death certificate. You were crafted by something all together different than he was because your heat is scalding. The taste of your sweat when he drags his tongue across your breast is sweeter than any candy. He’s a depraved, mindless, addict. Addicted to you since that very first meeting, and he’s finally tipped over the edge.  

Pretending for too long that you weren’t his undoing. That your voice, your body, your mind wasn’t something that haunted him in the most sublime way. Even in those horrible dreams– the nightmares where he existed in a world of carnage and blood, your memory is there. The very idea of you a talisman that keeps him going. 

He can feel your Evol reacting. It always does when you’re getting close. The cataclysmic energy of your synergistic evol reaches out to him through the tips of your fingers. It embeds into his skin, his blood, his bones. Drawing out his own evol and making the air in the room drop several degrees. 

The connection you unknowingly create is soul-driven. And each time you do it he feels more of his soul intertwined with yours. What a marvelous tapestry you all must look like now. The various colors of the five of weaving together to make something not even Athena could hope to weave. 

Zayne grabs your hips and plants his feet flat on the bed. He drags you up and down his cock and thrusts up into you harshly. The slap of skin is heinous, but the sound is irresistible. 

“ Ngh , that’s it, my love. Yes, yes. Keep going.” Zayne is babbling and he hates it but they won’t stop, “Love you. God, I love you. Come for me– yes . Yes, c ome all over me .”

Your moans are high pitched whines, breathless as he maneuvers you with ease. Your pussy is clenching around him and he has to grit his teeth from spilling inside you. Your gummy cunt is too inviting. It’s too sweet. Too perfect. He’s gonna fill you up because there’s no other choice. No other place he can because anything else feels like a crime.

“I’m gonna–!” You gasp hips losing their rhythm in this violent dance, “Zayne! I love you! I love you! I love you! ”

He can feel when you come before he sees it. The tightening around him turns into a vice and he can barely pull out– a half-stunted thrust later and he’s following right after you. Teeth clenched together to stifle the pathetic noises his throat tries to make, and he pulls you down to drown the rest in a kiss. 

It’s sloppy. Your lips and tongue lax from the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drinks you in, basking in the radiant heat you give off and the little tiny flutters of your pussy milking him dry. 

“We should…” You breathe heavily before licking your lips, tasting him, “We should shower.”

“Not yet.” Zayne says, and when he kisses you this time it's tender. It's sweet and warm and so full of love you feel a little overwhelmed by it. “Stay here for a little longer. Then we can shower.”

You hum contently and nod, “Alright. We just…shouldn’t fall asleep.”

Zayne tilts his head to press a kiss against your nose, “You can fall asleep if you like. I’ll stay awake for us.”

He’s still inside you, and neither of you are keen to change that. You shift your legs, and lean down, laying against his chest and feeling droplets of come leak out. It’s cool and sticky, but somehow oddly satisfying. The sensation should be uncomfortable, but it isn’t. 

Zayne draws lines down your back, and then down to where you’re still joined. You jolt a little when he runs a finger around your stretched hole, and you feel him twitch. Inside and out. 

“Rest,” Zayne whispers headily into your ear, and you take a deep breath to try and obey. 

He’s not trying to work you up again, but he’s certainly not leaving you either. It’s like he’s intrigued by the way your bodies intertwine. Enamored by the way your body still holds him so snugly. 

He kisses your hair as you close your eyes, drifting into something close to sleep but not quite. Luckily, there’s an extra blanket at the head of the bed (Rafayel’s because he can’t stand the cold and he needs a barrier when Zayne is also in the bed). By the time Zayne drapes it over you, you’re asleep.

<- Previous Next ->

[chrystal-ink]

That harem one shot was so cute 🥰. I don’t know why, but it’s Tower, Lancelot, and Dual’s interactions with the reader that I’m most excited to be seeing in the future. It did remind me of the kissing headcanons you did for each of them and it got an idea going in my head that I find just adorable.

You know how it’s been going around about how hedgehogs will circle the ones they like as a sort of mating ritual? I’m imagining it with the Shadow Harem and I just can’t 😂.

I imagine each of them doing it, but have their own unique ways of doing it. Idk if Shadow would do so since he and reader are already in a relationship, but maybe he does do it because he loves reader so much.

I can just picture Tower circling reader like a predator about to pounce 🤣. Is that what he intends to do? Who knows. He does things on his own terms, after all.

For some reason, I can imagine Lancelot and Dual just maybe admiring the reader and start circling without realizing it. They don’t know why they’re doing it, but it just feels right. They’re just gazing at the reader with such lovestruck glances while doing whatever around the house.

I love this! I’ve tried doing circling one shots before but I haven’t been able to make it work before but I could definitely head cannon it 😊

(lol imagine all of them them circling you at once that would be so chaotic 😂)

(Also thank you so much Lancelot, Tower, and Dual are my favorites to write for right now so I’m glad you’re looking forward to it 😊”

I think they would all do it to maybe to signal to the others that it’s their turn or they just want a private moment with you but each one has a different flavor✨

🦔

OG shadow probably would do it very lovingly having done it for a few years at this point, he might tease you a bit just just because of the familiarity of it

“Why are you blushing Y/N? All these years and you still get nervous, how cute”

💥

Tower needs to learn some rizz for sure. He doesn’t break eye contact not even once when he does it his eyes burrowing into yours. You know he means well but yah it gets a little too intense sometimes.

“I need you for a moment, don’t say no”

❌

Edge claims he’s just checking your posture or fighting stance, a facade you see through immediately, once the others leave however he’s just as mushy as the rest of them.

“Your stance is looking better these days, still better isn’t perfect, no matter how close to the definition all your other attributes are”

🎬

Dual doesn’t really know why he’s doing it. he gets embarrassed when the others tell him still he keeps doing it. Once he has context he makes sure to take you in and takes notice of your features.

“ I like the way you’ve done your hair today, you should do it like that more often.”

⚔️

Lancelot is very steadfast when he does it admiring you like a piece of art. Nothing else matters not even his knight duties.

“I find you look most immaculate when the sun hits you in this room”

6️⃣

Six is very protective when he circles you making sure no danger is around, once he’s positive you’re safe he cautiously asks for affection which you happily accept.

“Now that I have you alone would you mind if I laid on your lap for a moment?”

[skufdaddyswansea]

I’m genuinely curious what you would do if you were in Curly’s shoes for the week leading up to the accident. This isn’t a malicious question, I’m just obsessing over his inaction because genuinely considering the circumstances, what could Curly have done to prevent the tragedy? They’re a few months in of a year long expedition— too late to turn back, too early to try and make it to the finish line— and your estranged best friend has done something unforgivable. There’s no temp jail on the ship either. You’re all being fired after this. There’s no way for Anya to get any sort of pregnancy care or an abortion procedure on the ship, and she may well give birth during the trip. It’s like… genuinely, what do you do?

It's hard to say when you're on the outside looking in. When you're looking at someone else failing to do something, and knowing the consequences, it's easy to say "Well, I would have done this differently." But obviously I'm not actually under the same pressure, with a clock ticking over my head or anything, yknow? So all I can say is what I hope I would do.

Ideally, I'd like to think I'd strip Jimmy of his rank. No access to the cockpit, to be accompanied at all times (or at least as much is reasonable. But then I don't know how successfully you can rope Swansea and Daisuke into going along with that.) I can't say how that would turn out for the long term, 8 months is a long time. Especially with everything else going on. So plenty of time for someone to slip up somewhere.

I'd also tell Anya she was welcome to sleep in medical room since it can lock. If I'm being honest she might even be able to convince me to give her the gun under the right circumstances, but I don't really think that's a good thing, that could just as easily become a disaster.

As for the pregnancy that's... much more difficult. There really isn't anything Curly could have realistically done about that by the time he found out. Especially because Anya herself is the nurse. Swansea could potentially have the experience to give her support there but tbh I get the feeling he wasn't particularly involved in that process with his kids either. (...Does Curly have kids?? This is making me realize we don't really know what his family life is like. I get the feeling he's a bachelor though, it probably would have come up if he had a family to worry about. Anyway.) I guess the only thing to do would be to make sure to actually check in on her and give what ever support is possible.

And again, who knows if any of that would have worked out for the better, or if I'd be able to stick to it. No matter what you do it's going to be a bad time.

I guess in the truly ideal situation he'd have spotted the red flags in Jimmy's behaviour and done something about it long before it reached that point, but there's no way he could have known how bad things were going to get that far in advance.

So I get what you mean, I don't envy his position at all lol. Thinking about this did make me realize that I think the way I've been framing my Curly analysis has been a little overly judgemental. I just kind of assumed most people went into the game with the idea that Curly was totally innocent like I did, and then over-corrected to make a point. I still stand by my overall interpretation, but I probably should have been a little more balanced. After all, one of Mouthwashing's strengths is being able to put you in the shoes of someone who does awful things, and showing that they're still just a human with flaws, while not glossing over the ramifications of their actions.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

How would the male companions go about helping/comforting a tav who’s “monthly visitor” came to town during their journey??

A/N: The timing of this ask is impeccable because guess what I just got? Lol. But seriously I would be mad as hell in the 5 or 6 days I’m supposed to stop my mind flayer parasite AND save the universe I ALSO had to deal with cramping and bleeding. Nu-uh. Nope. Sign me the fuck out. Goodbye cruel world, I would be DONE. 

TW: Mentions of Menstruation; Blood 

Tried to keep this Tav as Gender Neutral as possible so that it could apply to anyone who menstruates.  <3 

Please Like & Reblog! 

Male BG3 Companions Helping Tav w/ Their Period

⭐ Astarion: 

He probably notices it before Tav does

Of course, he offers to help “clean up” ;) (this may or may not get him a kick in the balls)

No, but seriously, if he and Tav are in a relationship, he’d have no qualms going down there himself every so often to “alleviate” some symptoms. That is, of course, if Tav would go for that kind of thing. Astarion won’t keep pushing it if Tav says “no”. He respects the hard boundaries Tav gives him. 

Of course, he teases Tav a bit. Not horribly, and it’s all in good fun. But enough to let Tav know that this matter doesn’t disgust or upset him in the slightest. It’s blood for devil's sake! What creature would be better prepared to handle it than him?

If any of Tav’s clothes end up stained or they end up bleeding through them, Astarion has just the thing to take the stains out. Turns out, knowing how to get blood out of most fabrics is quite beneficial knowledge in the vampire community. Plus he has an instinct for knowing where the best tailors and seamstresses in Baldur’s Gate are. Should Tav need an emergency change of clothes, he knows just the place! 

Then again, Astarion himself has no problem with the blood stains. After all, they’re traveling around killing monsters for gods sake! If anyone has a nasty comment about how much blood either he or Tav is drenched in, they better be damn quick on their feet. His arrows can shoot pretty far. ;P

As far as cramps or pain goes, if his previous, ahem, suggestion was shot down, he’ll make sure Tav takes a moment here and there to rest. He might even bother Gale, demanding some sort of heat pack. Scratch that. He’s most definitely harassing Gale for some sort of heating pack spell. 

If Gale refuses, he might even try and figure out how to fix one himself. Granted fire and vampires aren't the best of friends, but Tav is the only one in the last two-hundred-plus years to see him as a person. A little scorching here and there means nothing if Astarion can let Tav know how much he values them. 

🔮 Gale: 

He’s clueless, okay? Tav would have to outright tell him. I mean yes, he was raised by a single mom, but she didn’t exactly share the details of this stuff with him. And it never came up all the years he was with Mystra because goddesses don’t exactly reproduce the way other Faerun humanoids do! Please forgive him, he really does want to learn.

He immediately offers to find a spell or potion to either pause or skip this one altogether. He gets that Tav may want to opt out of dealing with it for the time being, seeing as the two of them have much more pressing matters to attend to. 

He’ll cast it himself if Tav wishes. Or he’ll find another trustworthy wizard to recommend. Although he does prefer to do it himself, he understands Tav might be uncomfortable with the thought of their new partner doing such a thing for them. His entire life has been spent studying magic, so of course he immediately thinks to use that to remedy any problem Tav has. 

Nevertheless, should Tav choose to deal with it in the old-fashioned non-magical way, he’s perfectly accepting of that as well. He’ll enquire about which local herbs are suitable for such applications, possibly even soliciting the help of an herbalist or surgeon. 

Gale wants to give Tav as many options for comfort as possible. If Tav’s concern is about heavy bleeding, he looks for answers on natural remedies to lighten the flow. Or he may even speak with a midwife about the best clothes and absorbent materials to use in the coming days.  

As awkward as he can be in social situations, he’s oddly great in this endeavor. He treats it the way he would a Weave experiment- with an open mind and curiosity. At the end of the day what matters is Tav knows how much Gale admires and respects them. And that he doesn’t think of them any less for having this bodily function. If anything, he admires Tav more for being so forthcoming. It’s an ask that actually strengthens his and Tav’s relationship. 

🗡 Wyll: 

Wyll probably shies away from it the most. It’s not that he doesn’t want to help Tav in any way he can, it’s just that he’s a gentleman, and to his knowledge, speaking of certain subjects with the one you like, isn’t something a well-behaved gentleman would do. That being said, a true gentleman is always prepared to put away their discomfort in order to aid their friends, so that’s exactly what he does. 

He enlists the help of Shadowheart almost immediately. He knows realistically, there are others he could ask (midwives, doctors, healers), but Shadowheart is an ally and a Cleric to boot. So her skills as well as her knowledge may very well come in handy. 

He’ll go along with whatever Tav decides, but he, like Gale, recommends Tav either suspend or skip this round. He thinks it wise to have all their wits about them for the battles ahead. With demons like Mizora and Raphael running about, none of them can afford to get distracted. Again, if Tav chooses to push through it, he’ll be kind and supportive, and request Shadowheart’s healing in subduing some of the more troublesome symptoms. But deep down, he’s happier should Tav decide to use magic or spells to resolve the issue for the time being. 

And then, Wyll goes all out in preparation for the next one. Once their fight is won, he can turn his attention back to his family- his Father, and of course, Tav. He makes sure his family home has a room for them, customized in many ways to Tav’s liking. Wyll has their favorite color blanket, a soft pillow, their favorite flavor tea in an enchanted flask to keep it just the perfect temperature… the list goes on and on. 

He loves Tav so much. He just wants them to be comfortable, and to feel safe to express whatever feelings they have. After all, Tav is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

🌱 Halsin: 

The nice thing about him being ‘one with nature’ is that he has no unease regarding the subject. He is an archdruid, and some three-hundred years old at that- believe me, there’s very little Tav’s body could throw at him that he’s not ready to receive. 

Out of all the companions, Halsin is the one most likely to not immediately suggest using magical means to pause or skip it. Instead, he has more natural aids at the ready- herbs, teas, heat packs, massages, and well, yes, even that. ;)

The difference between Halsin suggesting it and Astarion suggesting it, however, is that Halsin’s motivations are more focused on what he can do for Tav and their body; they’re not based on the idea of mutual satisfaction. Halsin has had countless lovers and years to understand pleasure. He knows you take turns giving, and he’s well very versed in that. 

Or if Tav isn't up for that, he'll offer to shift into a cat and rest on their abdomen, using his body heat to lessen Tav’s cramps. 

He’s also the most ‘normal’ when it comes to continuing their journey. He won’t make a habit of fussing over Tav unless they specifically request him to do so. Periods, however annoying and painful, are a part of life, of nature. Halsin believes it best to learn how to accept nature, and live in harmony with it, rather than try and prevent it. 

If Tav does want to explore other means of stopping this particular cycle, however, Halsin will help them any way he can, even if he doesn’t think it very wise to mess with the flow of nature like that. As a druid healer himself, he knows a few things or too about reproductive spells. He can make it so the symptoms lessen, or temporarily subside until their perilous journey has come to a close. 

Halsin may not want to settle for a single lover, but out of all of them, Tav seems to shine the brightest. He would do anything within his power to aid them. 

Bonus! 💪 Minsc (and 🐹 Boo!): 

He offers to fight it lol. Just straight up. 

“What is this thing causing you stress? Tell Minsc where it is so he can destroy it for you!” 

Boo basically has to be the one in charge of the situation, but then again, what’s new? 

Boo finds the supplies Tav might need, and directs Minsc to them. Boo also directs Minsc towards either Shadowheart or Halsin, because they’re better suited for dealing with these sorts of things. 

Once Minsc understands what Tav meant, he apologizes with a bouquet of wildflowers he picked. 

And by ‘picked’ I mean mostly smooshed before ripping their roots out of the ground.  

He's really trying okay, give the man some credit.

And give Boo treats to thank him for his service.

[amijulesenough]

what comes after me? (luke hemmings)

hiii here's my first fic on this account! :) I hope you all like it- I'll be honest, i'm divided on if I actually like it. I've definitely done better, but i'm a little rusty so I'll give myself a little grace lol.

-

warnings: none!

genre: fluffy

word count: 1.8k

tags: luke hemmings, brother's best friend, party kisses :)

-

“Hey, you almost ready in there?” My mom’s voice calls from beyond my bedroom door,  “Guests are gonna be arriving any minute.”

“Yeah, just a sec,” I respond, fussing with my only slightly-frizzy curls. I pout at my reflection momentarily, wishing my hair would comply a little better when it’s supposed to be my special day.

“I think someone’s at the door, honey,” mom says when I step out, “Would you let them in? Oh, don’t you look cute?”

“Sure thing,” I murmur, skipping a few steps as I jog down, my vibrant green sundress swishing.

My face cracks in a grin as I swing the door open, my eyes locking with my older brother’s bright sapphire blues, his bleached hair tucked under a backwards ballcap. I push the screen door aside and jump into his arms, wrapping my legs around him.

“Woah,” Michael laughs, “Hey there, kiddo!”

“I’ve missed you so much,” I squeal, my face smushed into his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he says, spinning me in a circle, “Congrats, grad. Check out this smarty-pants, guys; summa cum laude.”

I glance up when he says ‘guys’, meeting the smiling faces of Michael’s bandmates, who have come with him to celebrate my graduation from college. Calum is holding a platter of assorted cookies, Ashton has several gift bags in his arms, and Luke… darling Luke has a beautiful bouquet of white and red roses and delicate baby’s breath and the biggest grin on his face.

“Congrats!” They all say at once as Michael sets me down.

“Thanks,” I say, suddenly a little bashful once all attention is on me.

Before we can dive into a detailed conversation catching everyone up to date on the goings-on in our lives, a few more cars pull in front of the house and all sorts of relatives and family friends start pouring into the front yard. Aunts and Uncles and first cousins and second cousins and step-cousins show up to congratulate and celebrate me. Of course I’m grateful, albeit a bit overwhelmed. I shimmy through the growing party, stopping to chat about future plans and job opportunities. 

After two hours of answering “Got any jobs lined up?” and “What about future schooling?” and “Planning on a family at all?” over and over, my throat feels as though it’s been thoroughly coated in dust. I excuse myself from a group of my father’s cousins and make a beeline for the refreshments, desperate for some water. I’m pulling a bottle from the cooler when an arm flings itself around my shoulders.

“Thought you might have been avoiding us,” Calum jokes, pulling me into a side-hug.

“Don’t I wish I would have been with you guys,” I sigh, leaning my head on his shoulder.

“Come sit with us and let the rest mingle,” he says, leading me to a table outside.

“Ah, here she is,” Ashton does a dramatic drumroll on the table, “The one and only.”

I do a mock curtsy. “I’ve decided to grace you all with my presence.”

“Only took how long,” Michael teases.

“I can’t believe how many people showed up,” I admit, “I think it’s partially since I didn’t really have a high school grad party.”

“And they’re all proud of your incredible accomplishments,” Luke says, “I know I am.”

I feel my cheeks start to heat up when he talks in that dulcet voice of his. I can’t help it, I’ve had a soft spot for Luke since he and Michael became friends. I’ve watched his style and attitude form and change over the years, seen his features mature and grow, heard him at his lowest and known him at his highest. Of course, that’s true for all of the guys, but Luke has been the one I’ve had my heart set on forever.

Of course, I’m just Michael’s little sister to him, so obviously nothing could ever happen. 

“Thanks, Luke,” I say, settling into a chair across from him, in between Calum and Ashton.

“So, onto grad school?” Calum asks, sliding a beer he apparently pulled out of nowhere toward me.

“Hey, thanks,” I snag the bottle, “Yeah, getting my masters is the next step.”

“What’s after that, Einstein? A PhD in nerdology?” Michael grins, his cerulean eyes squinting with mischief.

“Get off her, Mike,” Ashton tosses a crumpled napkin at Michael’s head, “You’re just jealous that all the brain cells went to her instead of you.”

“I can handle his smart ass comments, you know. I dealt with it constantly when I was younger,” I say, “But thanks, Ash.”

“He’s right, you know,” Michael says, “You’re infinitely smarter than me and I’m only a little jealous.”

I can’t fight the matching grin inching across my face. “Shut up, Mike.”

“See, complimenting her is so much more fun than teasing her because she gets so pink,” Michael continues, “Especially when you’re being genuine because then she doesn’t even know how to respond!”

“Shut up, Michael,” I say sweetly, my smile not faltering.

“I think we’ve spent enough time around her to catch onto that, thanks.” Luke taps his beer bottle to mine, winking.

Banter continues for some time at our table before my mom interrupts for cake cutting. I say a few words of thanks for everyone who came to celebrate and then hand out pieces of cake for everyone who wants some. Once again, as earlier, people corner me and ask about the future, which stresses me out more than it probably should. I fend off as many people as I can, but it gets a little exhausting after answering “What’s the plan?” for the 70th time in three hours.

I need a drink and some time alone, I think as I hug and kiss a great uncle goodbye.

The crowd is just beginning to dwindle when I decide to make a getaway, just for a moment. I sneak back inside and slide into the bathroom for a minute of peace. Why did my mom insist on inviting every human I had ever interacted with in my 22 years of existence?

A soft knock comes at the door. Well, there goes my serenity. I sigh slowly before I call out, “Just a minute!”

“Oh, good, I was hoping it was you,” Luke’s voice says, “Mind if I come in?”

My chest contorts like a circus performer. “Wh-why?”

“To chat,” he says, voice just beyond the door, “I brought you one of those wine coolers you like.”

I poke my tongue into my cheek. “Yeah, okay.”

Luke squeezes in, tossing me a bottle of fluorescent blue beverage. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” I echo.

“Hiding from the attention, then?”

“Just… just for a minute. It’s a little overwhelming, you know?”

“Hmm, yeah, that makes sense.”

“Jeez, what am I yammering about? You get way more attention than I do. I should be grateful I don’t have to deal with this daily.”

Luke’s angel smile lights up the dim space we occupy. “No, I get it. Really. You’ve always been one who prefers her space, so I can imagine this is all a little much for you.”

I sip at my cooler. “Yeah. I wanted something small, but my mom wanted my extended family, every friend I’ve ever made, and the homeless guy who hangs out at the gas station to come, so, you know.”

He laughs, his head lolling back for a moment. “I missed you, you know? We all did. Wish you’d come with us on tour sometime.”

“And do what? Study marine biology off-stage?”

His grin and giggles are so contagious.  “Why not?”

I roll my eyes. “You know, when I was little, I would have died for that opportunity. But I’m a big girl now with big girl responsibilities.”

“Hmm. Sure are,” Luke murmurs, his eyes flitting up and down my body in an almost imperceivable manner. 

“What does that mean?” I take another swig of my drink.

 Luke cocks his head, pressing his lips together. His cute golden curls shift to one side, his hooded baby blues gazing at me intently. “You’ve grown up so much, you know?”

My tummy twists in anxious knots. “Well, yeah, kind of the point of the party, right?” My voice is too high right now.

His smile softens my nerves. “You know what I mean. You cut your hair and embraced your adorable curls. You’ve got tattoos now- I like them, by the way. You hold yourself with confidence and intelligence. You’re really a beautiful woman, now.”

Suddenly the tiny room is much too torrid and my skin is tingling. “Thank you.” I muster, my throat tasting like bile.

“Are you nervous? Miss Clifford, do I make you very anxious?”

“Shut up, Luke,” I tear my gaze from him, my chest rising with more concentration than should be necessary.

He pushes away from his perch on the bathroom sink. “Hey,” he takes the bottle from my hand, setting it down before he holds my hands gently, “I wasn’t trying to make you nervous. I know… how fond you are of me. I was trying to let you know the feeling is mutual.”

My eyes dart back to his. “What?”

That adorable smile is overtaking his features again. “Please tell me I’m not reading the room horribly wrong.”

I step a little closer, and he responds with his hands around my waist. “Not at all,” I murmur, the butterflies in my stomach having a party of their own, “Not a bit.”

“Glad I still got it,” he jests, leaning down to catch my lips in a sweet embrace.

He tastes a little like beer and a little like vanilla lip balm and a lot like the love of my life. I melt into his every movement, letting him pull me closer, letting his lips travel across my chin and over my jawline and down my throat. The smell of his musky cologne infiltrates my nostrils and intoxicates all of my senses.

Things may have gotten out of hand had my brother not rapped very aggressively on the bathroom door. We both jolt, my nerves being set ablaze.

“You almost done in there?” Michael calls, “I’m about to shit my pants, Luke!”

I bite my lip. “Oops?”

“Wait, Luke, is my sister in there too? The hell are you guys doing?”

Luke snorts, covering his mouth. I sputter, trying to come up with a good excuse. “Uhm, he was bringing me a drink? I just needed some time alone-”

“Right, okay, just make whatever is going on in there snappy.”

I can’t fight the giggles that shake my body. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.”

Luke’s eyebrows raise in shock. “Oh, so it’s all my fault?”

“You initiated this.”

He shakes his head. “Right, fine, I’ll take the blame.” He steals another smooch. “It’s worth it.”

[noonaishere]

Thoughts and Thanks

Written 7/5/2023 as I finished the first drafts (I think, I’m not 100% where this was in the timeline, I started the first drafts sometime in very early 2022)

I apologize if the y/n side of the fic was a bit more coherent than the t/n side was; it wasn’t intentional. I wrote the bulk of the y/n side before my life devolved into breakneck levels of working and emotion-ignoring, ending in me quitting my job and having burnout so bad that it kind of left me unable to do much of anything for the first three months of 2023. When I tell you that all I did was lay around and watch movies and play Animal Crossing like someone experiencing deep depression for those three months… I tell you that because that was all I COULD do. Please remember to take breaks if you can (and maybe don’t work in academia? idk). 

Addition, 1/5/2025: I know there’s like one or two moments where a character who knows info in one of the fics then appears in the other one, not knowing that info, but I feel like; for all my poor brain went through, only having one or two moments like that is probably better than I should have been able to do, lol.

Written 11/10/2023: I’m sitting here right now - after three weeks of disruption in which I had hayfever, got double vaccinated, and got addicted to a matching game (fortunately it’s like a jailbroken app that’s on a website so I can’t actually make the Bad Decision and spend money on it-- but I keep spending my time on it) - thinking about what I want to do going forward. It feels a little silly to put these thoughts here, since no one’s going to see them until 2025 (😫), but I want to, just the same. 

I’ve had four jobs so far, all bad in their own way, with the last two being uniquely horrible and I’ve sort of discovered that I hate working in a setting where you’re a cog in a machine that doesn’t even get to see the fruits of their labor. I just hate not working on something and being able to be like “I made this” at the end of all the work (or even being able to be like “we made this”). I also deeply hate being locked into a situation where I have to work a job that grinds my will and my creativity down into a paste until neither are usable (what the fuck is life even FOR, then?). I know that that’s how the capitalist machine works, by breaking people so they mindlessly do whatever their superiors say, but I was unfortunately born with the condition *stick-it-to-the-man-neosis*, which means I either do those jobs and want to off myself… or find something to do that I enjoy (my mom had a hard time with my condition when I was a child because I would just up and leave school. Like we’d be doing our early morning, “everyone sit in the lunchroom before school starts,” and I would be like, “whelp, that’s enough of this,” and just get up and walk out of the building. I don’t really remember it, but apparently I did it a LOT). 

The thing is, I really love writing, to the point that even the hard parts don’t feel so hard (which is sort of weird, because other writers I know complain about the process because, you know, the process is hard, but I find myself still liking the process even though it’s hard? I’m sure some of my grade school teachers would be very confused). I really like inventing characters and then bringing them to life on the page, so here’s the next thing I had to say:

[I rewrote this part after reading it now, since so much of it had changed since I first wrote it]

Since this is done, I’m going to be working on original stuff. I have been recently (since I’ve mostly recovered from burnout, my brain has been able to handle doing more) and have… two drafts that are mostly done, one that needs editing, and one that needs a vigorous rewrite. Genres include but are not limited to: fantasy, supernatural, scifi, romance, and smut. I feel like my last three fics (these two and the Jaehyun one) have been very “real world slice of life” where my original fiction tends to be more fantasy based (even my novella that’s very like “young person worried about their town and it’s ecology” still has supernatural shit in it).

At first I was thinking maybe Patreon, and I could post the chapter of a story every week, but serialized fiction writing and book writing are a little different (serialized fiction tends to have a lot of cliff hangers to keep people turning up every week, and I just don’t like writing that way), so I’ve decided instead to self-publish them. Very soon, I need to start a Newsletter (would you all want the link?) so I can keep you up-to-date with releases or just silly thoughts or whatever.  

Finally, my thanks:

Written 10/24/2023: Thank you to @leagreenly for taking time out of her busy schedule to make me the yt thumbnnails for the “NEROmusic” update tweets (she made the thumbnails and I made a frame from a tweet). Thank you so much for being a kind friend who uses their procrastination to make things for someone on the other side of the planet (“I sent so much because I have to go to sleep now” lol). I presume my messages about their look were coherent, since I woke up to exactly what I was thinking of the next day, lol.

Thank you to @metalheadatiny for being my constant twitter liaison, at any random moment of the day when I’m like, “Can you find this for me?” because I don’t have twitter and can’t see tweets anymore-- I am never downloading that hell-app (I will only use THIS hell-app. I can only stomach one! How much hell can one person take? Let me tell you… it’s not a lot lol). Thank you for sending me screenshots of exactly what I need, like a personal Private Eye who shows up in my house like, “I found the girl” and then throws a bunch of black and white pictures onto my desk. And then I’m like “What girl?-- who the fuck is this? I needed pictures of a tweet so I know how to format it-- WHY ARE YOU LEAVING??”

Written 1/5/2015: To the people who have been reading as it updated: I hope you enjoyed this silly thing (or rather, two silly things). There were a lot of comments I saw as people read it that had me laughing (my fav where the few were we were all screaming at the characters together lol), and I’m glad you all liked it. Thank you for reading it, and maybe take a moment to check out some of my older fics if you liked these ones. I can at least tell you that, if you like chaotic y/n’s, the y/n in Work of Art is almost like a proto-Online/Offline y/n (I actually have an AU in my brain where that y/n and Jaehyun are older and they’re this Yeosang’s parents… idk why, I just feel like he would be their kid lol). The fics before that are mostly smut, so read at your own risk.

To all the people who liked the masterlist or a random chapter with the intention of reading it after: I hope you enjoyed, possibly as you mainlined it, lol. (I read all of JJK in two days, so I understand that mood lol.)

I was intending some more epilogue stuff and/or prequel stuff, but I was so busy working for the last four months I didn’t get to finish them like I wanted, so they’re going to take a bit. I’d say… remember me in your hearts, but don’t get your hopes up too high, since I can’t give the faintest idea of a posting date for any of them.

[Edit: I just realized I didn't put the taglist, so all you tagged people can be sure to see my thanks! @luvvvx @iamthehotdemon @hrts4hanniehae @rachs-words @stayatinykatsy @dinossaurz @conwunder @tinyelfperson @anythingrelatingtojinyoung @jaytheatiny @staytinyluv @nevermoreraven1 Thank you all for reading 😊]

*squeaky toy noise*

[ONLINE/OFFLINE MASTERLIST]

[MUSIC OF THE HEART MASTERLIST]

🧋 🎵

Also: if you really liked either of them, please reblog the masterlist! we don't have an algorithm after all, so, O-reader-kenobi! I need your help! (please imagine Hwa in a star wars outfit)

[accio-victuuri]

(candy vault) : alexander mcqueen shoes, nike off white and yibo’s missing mole 🤍

this fandom has lots of candies in the past years and there are ones that fall through the cracks or things that i simply wanna talk about. also for the benefit of new turtles who probably missed it & a good trip down memory lane for those who’ve been here for a while. i made other posts similar to this before and i haven’t done a good old mini compilation so here ya go. ^^

2/23/2021 WYB was in Beijing, participating in the recording of CCTV’s Lantern Festival program in the evening. The actual broadcast was 2/26/2021.

In the materials initially sent out by YBO, for the photos, you couldn’t see AM shoes. Maybe the shoot was better off focusing on his face, which I totally agree, but it was like they didn’t want to focus on it that much. We only saw the shoes when they released the BTS video where it would be tricky to crop it out.

During the actual performance he changed into a more comfortable looking Jimmy Choo shoes. He was wearing AM outfit so it made sense that the shoes should match too. This should’t really be a big deal or even a CPN, only because changing shoes is sort of normal at events like this. Maybe he was more comfortable with the Jimmy Choo, although the choreography for this performance is not that complicated like his other routines. The way I remember it, WYB usually sticks to the shoes he has on.

The CPN alarm bells started going off tho when ZZ flew from Beijing to Shanghai wearing the same style McQueen shoes. He had shooting back in 2/24 and there were some talk that he was more than a half hour late as planned on set. So going by our collective galaxy brain, they could have spent some time together during late 2/23 and some time on 2/24 which is after the CCTV shoot. WYB probably lent the shoe to him or he just got it from their shared closet lol. This is why ZZ was sort of late, because he was with WYB. The pattern of ZZ being later than usual on set when he is with WYB is something that still happens this year. I’m not implying that he is slacking off when he is with WYB but more of just adjusting his schedule so he can accommodate the love of his life. they both deserve that in between their busy schedules.

maybe this is why YBO didn’t want to highlight that on the materials they released 2/26 ; because they knew where the shoe went 😂😂😂

While we’re in the subject of shoes, let’s take it further back with their matching nike off white in 2018. It’s one CPN that is often given as an example but I haven’t discussed on here.

AAAAAHHHHH! I miss the days when they could still wear Nike shoes. Oh well….

Looking through the airport pictures of ZZ before joining the CQL group from 2016 to 2018, there are no pair of Nikes that could often be seen in pictures of him. There are 2 back in 2017. Before CQL, ZZ had quite a variety of shoes, including a few pairs from Adidas. Like WYB, it is obvious that he likes to buy Nike co-branded products, likes to grab the latest models, and even buys more for collection.

Now let’s focus first on the shoes, it’s a collab of Nike air vapormax X off white. There are two shoes of the same style but in different colors. The black model will be available at 3/30/2018 and the white will be available at 4/18/2018. We know that at the time, WYB will surely have what’s new when it comes to NIKE. It’s either it will be sent to him cause he has a relationship with the brand or he will buy it himself. He is known to always wear the latest designs released. He is also a collector, so he most likely bought the black and white version.

WYB wore the white version on 4/28 and ZZ wore the black model on 5/8 based on photos.

As for ZZ, he was recording an episode for a show and he also used this shoe for the rehearsal. It is the same show where he had to dance and the choreography was taught by WYB. We’ve seen this in the BTS and ZZ talked about it himself.

WYB was seen again with the pair during PD101 on 5/10. It’s funny cause this is the same day where XZ was filmed candidly behind the scenes and he said he hasn’t seen LWJ all day.

These two. Honestly. They only formally “met” and then started shoot 4/16 and it hasn’t even been a month but they already have a couple shoe and ZZ was out there emoting about missing LWJ/WYB? It’s a common discussion that leads to alternative timelines like DT or 2017 or it could just be that it’s one of those rare instance where you connect with someone so quickly.

I have 3 possible explanations:

1. It’s totally unrelated. They bought their pairs separately since they like the style and collab.

2. WYB gave the shoe to XZ. I am a fan of both of them giving gifts to each other. And if you are someone who believed XZ gave him a lego set even before they started filming as a gesture of goodwill then this should make more sense to you. Also WYB is known to give gifts and that includes shoes ( for example SDC 3, he gave out multiple pairs ). This reasoning is not necessarily a CPN of them being boyfriends, but more of being close enough to give each other gifts. and not just the usual one you would give to a colleague cause if WYB only has the white and XZ has the black, it’s a couple shoe. WYB low key hinting at the prospect if them being a pair and XZ accepting it.

3. They bought it together, as you would when you’re with a friend and are scrolling through shopping apps together. I think there are fake rumors of that, the two, in between takes scroll through their phones and buy each other stuff or same style clothes. Again, it doesn’t necessarily mean boyfriend behavior, but more of being close enough to do that.

A clue for that is WYB was seen with the black pair during CQL filming around early 6/2018. You can clown that he is wearing ZZ’s shoes or he did buy the 2 kinds for his own and ZZ got the black only.

Lastly is the stolen mole!!!!! ♥️

Since cpfs are obsessing over WYB’s very visible mole from the Bazaar shoot.

It’s one of my favorite fake and it basically says, The reason why WYB cares so much about ZZ’s mole under the lip, is because WYB also had one like this when he was little. The elders in the family said it’s something good and it means he will have a happy life. However the mole disappeared. Or i guess in his case it’s not as prominent and has faded instead.

While filming, GG has scenes where he didn’t have make up or it gets taken off because of the heat. WYB looks at him closely and points out his lip mole, saying that he had something like that before but it disappeared. GG then added that his mom told him that his mole appeared only after a while when he was young.

That’s when WYB said GG stole his mole. When it disappeared, the mole transferred to GG 😂😂😂

Maybe this is why WYB is so fixated with his mole that he even includes it in his drawing of XZ/WWX.

-END.

[bigball-thefrog]

Hi! Really think ur writing is good! I wanna know if maybe you could write something with Brook. He’s been on my mind recently. Could u maybe do something along the lines of where Brook and the reader have been together for a few months and obvi the reader is younger and a goth. But what if they had an argument that resulted in her saying something hurtful. Like I’ve been wondering how Brook would be in an argument. Something along the lines of that i’m bout sure lol

Hello Hello, thank you for the request. I hope it is good enough. This has actually now become the longest thing I have written by one word! So I hope that it's good, please enjoy

Warnings/Tags:

Angst with comfort

Fem reader

Brook asking to see panties as usual

Little bit of a sexy joke at the end

______________________________

Narrator POV

Everywhere you go you always got strange looks, first it it was about your "dark and creepy" outfits you wore, then it was about your partner. You loved Brook with all your heart and he loved you with all his soul. I mean, an undead musician and a goth girl? It was a match made in heaven!

The rest of the Strawhats didn't mind and thought it was cute just how well you both went together. But not everyone was like that. Strangers, enemies, and sometimes even friends you made along the way said that your relationship was strange and wouldn't last, comments about how he was so old and that he could die any minute, then when you told them about his Devilfruit they'd comment about how the relationship is pointless because he'll outlive you and once you're gone Brook will probably just move on to he next. Someone even pointed out that he's a Rockstar so he could replace you with a fan with a snap of his fingers. Each time you tried your best to defend your relationship with Brook, but each time someone would say something new that could point out a flaw in your relationship. And as much as you were secure in your relationship, any person could only take so many negative comments before beginning to doubt something. And that's what's happening to you now, so many comments have started to stick to you that you're beginning to think that maybe your love for the skeleton is pointless. And as the days went on, you began growing colder and distancing yourself from Brook, meanwhile Brooks love only grew stronger.

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Brook was trying to find you. You had suddenly started avoiding him and he wanted to sort this out. He wasn't mad or anything, but he was concerned, had he done something wrong? Were your emotions getting the best of you and you needed comfort but we're too scared to ask? Whatever it was Brook wanted to help and if he could, better himself for you. He found you coming out the bathroom early one morning, looking as radient and as beautiful as ever to him. Snapping out of his admiring daze, he took a deep breath and made his way over to you, "My dear, may I please talk to you?" He asked as he bent over a bit to get closer to your level. You scoffed and tried to talk past, "Don't calm me dear, and don't talk to me anymore. I'm breaking up with you." Brook gently grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him, "Please don't say that... Talk to me, I want to help and better myself for you... Please don't break up this relationship and not tell me what is wrong, just talk to me." "Oh what's the point talking to a bag of old bones like you?!" you spat out leaving Brook surprised. He could feel anger starting to grow but he breathed again and calmed himself down, "My dear, please do not shout. I want to simply talk things out, not start an argument with you, so please just calm down and tell me what's wrong, is it because of my looks? Are my bones not attractive to you anymore?" He asked, still trying to keep the peace but your frustration and insecurities were getting the best of you, "No, I'm not shallow enough to care about your looks. But you can get any girl you want and replace me with a snap of your fingers! Since you're such a famous Rockstar!" you shouted back. Brook was getting frustrated now. He wanted to stay calm but your anger was starting to affect him, "My dear, I am trying to stay calm but your constant anger is beginning to piss me off. Is it my fake that's made you upset? Are you scared that I would replace you with a fan or another musician?"

Each time Brook asked if you were upset about something he was right, you were upset and insecure about everything he had just mentioned, but you were too angry right now and prideful to admit your insecurities, which now caused your next words to accidentally spill out, "Why would I care about you replacing me since I know it's going to happen some day! You already did it with your first crew, they died and you moved on with the Strawhats and stopped caring!! One day we're gonna die and you're just gonna move on from the Strawhats and jump onto the next pirate ship that comes your way!!! We're all gonna grow old and die and you're just going to stay a skeleton for eternity and find more friends and forget about us, until one day we won't matter to you anymore because it's gonna be so many years later and you're going to forget about us!!!"

It went dead quiet after that. Brook didn't have a heart but he could feel it shattering, in fact his soul was shattered from the words you had just said. Brook had was always sensitive and upset of the fact that his Devilfruit mad him live longer than most and the face that one day he'd have to watch another crew he called family pass away, and you knew how much it upset him but here you were spitting it all back into his face. His expression softened and you could see tears forming in his eye sockets, that made you stop and what you just said hit you in the gut and your guilt grew immensely. "Brook, I'm sorry I-" he raised his hand to cut you off, "Please do not speak anymore... To prevent any further hurtful words being said, I would like to be alone for awhile to calm down and collect my thoughts... I would appreciate it if you left me alone and not say anything to me during that time..." you gulped simply nodded. Brook turned back around and left to be by himself in his room. Once he was out of sight you just sobbed, you didn't mean to say all that nor did you really mean it. You were just frustrated and let your insecurities get the better of you. Now you pay the price of it.

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It was late at night and you stood at the front of the ship and you were still crying. You hadn't seen Brook for the entire day and you were worried and you wanted to run and apologize but you respected his space and left him alone. You also isolated yourself the entire day, not wanting to get the rest of the crew worried or involved so you just felt completely alone. You heard footsteps coming up behind you, thinking it was one of the other Strawhats you turned to leave but to your surprise, it was Brook. He had a cup of tea in hand and was sipping it as he made his way over to you. You stood frozen, not knowing what to say or to say anything at all, so you stood in silence with your head down as Brook stopped next to you. "Beautiful night tonight, isn't it?" He said as he sipped more of his tea. He went quiet again and with a quiet sigh he spoke, "Have you calmed down? No more screaming or shouting?" you nodded and he nodded as well. Another awkward silence and the guilt was clawing at your back so you decided it was time to apologize, "Brook listen, I-I didn't mean what I said... I just... I'm just so frustrated because because almost everyone won't shut up about how problematic and unstable our relationship is it just gets so frustrating trying to block all the comments out but I hear it so much that I start to believe it but I don't want to believe it but God, I just..."

You couldn't even finish your words before you became chocked up and just continued sobbing. Seeing your distressed state, Brook knelt down in front of you and wiped your tears away with his thumb, "Shhh... Please don't cry my dear, it hurts me to see you in such distress. Just calm down and talk slowly... Don't rush through your emotions, just let them calmly flow out..." hr said as he continued to wipe your tears away. You slowly calmed down and when most of the tears were gone and you were able to speak again Brook spoke, "Now please, just tell me what's bothering you. You've been an emotional mess for the past couple of weeks and I've been worried to death." You took a few deep breaths and finally spoke, "I've been feeling insecure lately... It's nothing you've done, it's people making comments about you and our relationship, mainly about how because of your devilfruit that you're going to live longer than me and that you'll move on and forget about me... And I've been trying so hard to not listen but I just heard it all so much that I mistakenly started to believe it. But that doesn't excuse the things I said... I shouldn't have let my frustration get the better of me and take it out on you... I am deeply sorry Brook..." said, it felt good to get everything off your chest but now you needed to wait and see how Brook would respond.

Brook remained silent for a few moments before he took your hand in his and caressed your hand with his thumb, and finally he spoke, "My love, I know it's scary to think that we only have limited time together and that I will live on after you but... You are the only one for me. You call me handsome when I am only bones and no flesh, you laugh at my jokes, you know all the words to my songs, you accept my perverted flaws and love me even though I am nothing but a bag of bones. So every day I make sure to savor every moment I have with you. My dear you are more precious to me then you'll ever know, I want you to be by my side on this journey through the ocean and to find the one piece, I want you o be next to me the day I get to see Laboon again. I want to spend every waking moment of our days together next to you because you are a rare gem that can love even a skeleton like me... So please my dear, don't listen to these stupid comments about our love, listen to your heart, and listen to what feel right. Because my dear, I love you with all my heart and all my soul, and nothing will ever change that." Brook then leaned down and pressed his teeth against your forehead, making a kissing sound as he did. Your heart fluttered in your chest, "You mean, you're not upset about what I said?" "Oh I am upset... But I'm more upset that you didn't trust me hard enough and that you didn't trust my love. Please next time you feel insecure or you're not sure about something in our relationship that you'll come to me and you'll talk to me, or if someone is bothering you, I'll sort them out, just please don't bottle up your emotions until they spill out and we have another incident like today." He said as he rested his forehead against yours. "Alright.. I'll will... And I promise I won't say anything like I did this morning to you... It was completely out of line and I'd there's anything I can do to make it up to you, I'll do it." You said. Brook smiled and cupped your cheek, "My dear, we can put that behind us and now we can focus on strengthening our bond, and we can start by getting some rest together." "Sounds like a good idea~"

Brook put his arm around your waist and you both walked back to the rooms in silence until a cheeky smirk grew on Brooks face and he stopped walking, "You know, there is something you can do to make it up to me~" He said as his hand lowered to your hip. "What is it? You said as you tilted your head to look up at him. Brooks smile grew wider, "May I please see your panties?~" you started laughing at the sudden question, you should expect nothing else from your musical skeleton, "Meet me in the showers tomorrow morning and you'll see more than just my panties~" You replied back which for once left Brook speechless. You then got on your toes and gave him a quick kiss on the Jaw bone before entering the girls room, leaving your lover blushing and in shock. And as Brook entered the men's room and went to sleep, all he could think and dream about was the activities that would happen tomorrow morning.

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Posting again this week, I know it's quick but my next set of exams are starting soon and I want to finish them all since my mom says she's going to be taking my phone during that time to help with my studying (trust me, I need it😭) so hopefully I can finish my requests and upload the last of my Slasher Rob Lucci X Reader before that. So I'll maybe see you all tomorrow, but if not I'll see you all soon.

Kelly🐸

[shesalittlelost]

I’m afraid it’s not just shippers’ problems in this case. Judging by all said by cast and crew they were not trying to portray CSA. Depp outright said Ellen was not a victim and that she desired Orlok. Plus whole there’s love triangle thing. It for sure gives a whiplash. CSA is too sensitive of a topic, you can’t treat it in the vocabulary of love triangles and oh, it’s just a twisted romance. But they do. Since I hope creators didn’t want to romanticise CSA in such a cunning way, the takeaway is that they were not trying to portray it in the first place and like with whole Wuthering Heights stuff screwed up. I also would like to point out that this whole Thing of Ellen being this wild fairy human girl with magic powers who runs around the woods and summoned Orlok and bound himself to her is exclusively original to 2024 remake and didn’t appear before. But it did shift the focus to Ellen more actively attracting vampire to herself, even if by accident and I don’t think it was a smart plot change. Not to mention it doesn’t make much sense in the long run, Ellen has these mighty powers that she could reanimate vampire and connect with him long distance when she’s teenager but otherwise her powers don’t affect the rest of the plot much or don’t play any significant role and her outcome doesn’t change from what was in 1922 movie. Sloppy writing. I’m afraid a lot of that sloppy writing and creators clearly fumbling intent vs execution is responsible for shippers being the way they are.

Aside from that one interview of Eggers where he talks about taking inspiration from Wuthering Heights, I've not seen any others and I'm not planning on it either. Because I just don't care lol. Like I know people will not agree with this but like I really don't care what this actor or that actor said. I personally don't think what they say in their intws changes anything at all about the movie once it's out. I mean, yeah it does give us a better idea of what the original intent was and how they approached it but I've said this before and I'm saying this again, I'm going to form my opinions on the movie by watching said movie and not the off screen comments from the cast.

And frankly I've grown very tired of this recent trend where the effort of carefully building up a narrative to tell a story has been replaced by the creators just telling the audience what they want them to think in their BTS interviews and it rarely aligning with the actual piece of work they produced. Seen this happen with SaB and then HotD. It's exhausting.

Having said that, I don't think Lily saying Ellen desires Orlok & Robert Eggers calling it a love triangle negates the presence of grooming and abuse in their dynamic. There's room for more nuance than you give them credit for. And it's the lack of exactly that on both sides with one using her attraction to/desire for him as an evidence that it wasn't abuse and the other erasing it completely, that's resulting in such horrendous takes all around. Survivors absolutely can be in love or desire their abuser and an abusive relationship such as Ellen and Orlok's can still make for a twisted sort of romance. This idea that love is a Pure emotion that is felt only by Good people is flawed and untrue. Horrible people, can love too. Yes, even monsters. In their own horrible and monstrous way and I think that was what Eggers was trying to do with Ellen and Orlok. I can see how WH might've influenced this as an amoral sort of romance between two very shitty and selfish people who happen to share this emotional/psychic bond that exists beyond their physical bodies and tends to consume them, defying even death (Cathy's ghost haunting Heathcliff just as he had asked her). But like I said, for that to happen Orlok needed to be an actual character that's more than just a physical manifestation of evil, greed and hunger and the movie should've done more to establish his and Ellen's relationship outside of just sex that, on-screen, she's mostly coerced into having with him.

Ellen's character was actually the most compelling part of the movie for me and Lily's portrayal of her was beautiful. I've to disagree that her being the one to summon Orlok was a bad idea. It gives her character more depth and agency in the story since she is the one who basically moves the story forward due to these unique psychic powers and also makes her emotional struggles and plight all the more impactful. Her powers do serve a significant purpose in her story. They're used to show how strictly moralistic the society she existed in was. Had she existed in another time, she wouldn't have been judged and removed from the society because of it but the time and place she's born in only punishes her for it. Like it is her being different and “strange” that scared her father so much that he would cringe away from even her touch. And it is that loneliness and hurt that makes her seek for any other presence that would love and comfort her. Orlok is the only one who hears her and fills that void in her life, “At first it was sweet. I'd never known such a place.” she recalls, which is what makes his eventual psychic/spiritual subjugation of her feel all the more violating and gross. A very clear portrayal of abuse and grooming--an abusive/neglectful family that ostracizes the child instead of offering compassion and understanding, making them more vulnerable to predators who use their desire to be loved and understood to completely hijack their life.

Lastly, as someone who initially liked how Orlok wasn't humanised at all giving him little screen time and how the movie primarily focused on Ellen and the pain his actions caused her, simply because I'm tired of seeing male characters take up too much space in anything to do with vampires in popular media and the girl just becoming his side piece, I'll say this that I don't think that a piece of work should have to dial back on the portrayal of its character complexities just because the audience are incapable of understanding that a story can be many things at once.

[1moreff-creator]

DR:OS CH2 Part 2 First Impressions

You know what time it is! >:D I may have finished my analysis on CH1, but there'll still be much to write about CH2! So let's go in!

CWs

"Mark: It says the motive announcement is tomorrow morning." Great! We're screwed even faster than in CH1! xD

"Kennedy: This motive… it’s about death. We should be ready.

Aidan: Not this again…

Vanessa: Why do you think it’s about death…?

Ellis: Dude, don’t indulge them…" Even Ellis is done with Kennedy's shit by this point :p

"Ellis: Perhaps eleven of us will expire by the end of this very conversation. Kennedy will survive; Vivi, perhaps… it’s just a question of who else has the guts to stick it out ‘til the end.

I look around.

Ellis: Maybe Jeff will manage to absentee himself just in the nick of time.

Taylor: “Dude, don’t indulge them…”" This is just funny xD

"Vivi: Why don’t any of you ever listen to her?

Aidan: ‘Cause she’s wrong.

Vivi: You don’t know that! You always just assume! Like, you hear “Conspiracy Theorist” and just tune them out, but they’re an Ultimate Theorist! Are you really going to completely disregard that just… just because his talent has a stupid adjective on it?!" I told y'all! The reason Vivi respects Kennedy is because their talent also makes them look worse! Mad Duo my beloved.

"Vivi: But it’s not about the associations, it’s about Kennedy! You’ve talked to her!

Aidan: Pff. Yeah, and that’s why I don’t listen." Aidan just never misses, damn.

"Taylor: “You’re not seeing the big picture! See, the mastermind knows that I’ll solve all their puzzles, so they had to discredit me the second I even walked in the door! It’s so clear that you all aren’t thinking hard enough about it, because you aren’t ready to handle the truth, which I’m telling you!”” :O Taylor went kinda hard ngl.

"Is that the Paris influence, or something they cooked up all on their own? Whatever the case, I’m intrigued to see what happens next." You and me both, Ellis :p

[Harper FTE] Wee FTE time! And Harper's one of the characters we know the least about, so this is cool!

"Harper: Oh, hello Ellis. I’m not sure who this is for yet. I sort of just… started making it.

Ellis: Eh, makes enough sense. I know a lot of people like having something to do with their hands.

Harper: Yes, I tend to feel restless if I’m not doing anything." We are. Really driving this point home, huh?

"Ellis: Yeah, I’m used to people blowing up my phone too… Crazy to not have anybody knocking at my door. Any of my usual admirers, I mean." Sure babe.

"Harper: All of you are so interesting.

Ellis: Eh? Yeah, I get that a lot, when you get rid of the “all of.”

Harper: Everyone has such specific lives and interesting stories about them. It’s been nice getting to know you better." Yeah that's a nice way of putting "everyone here is insane."

"Ellis: You fancy yourself a storyteller at all?

Harper: I don’t consider myself one, but if there’s anything you’d like to know about, I’m willing to answer.

Ellis: Oh yeah? What’s your type?" I wonder how many times I'll write "Ellis never lets one go" before the end of this fangan :v

"Harper: Oh. I haven’t given it much thought.

Ve thinks for a moment.

Harper: Probably… someone sweet and thoughtful. I think that caring for the other person is the most important thing." Yeah that tracks :p

"Harper: What about yourself?

Ellis: Anyone.

The answer, it leaves my mouth before I can process in the slightest.

Ellis: Anyone… worthy of my time! You know, because they’re… interesting. And down for whatever. Like that." This also tracks, massively xD

"Harper: I’m sure your partners would speak highly of you."Harper: I’m sure your partners would speak highly of you.

Ellis: Yeah. Obviously.

I purse my lips.

Ellis: You too, if you’ve…

Harper: I haven’t.

I kinda guessed." How awkward can one conversation get? Lol. At leaast we get a bit more info on Harper!

"Man, I hope I didn’t embarrass myself in front of ver…

Ah, what am I saying? Ve literally admitted to me that ve hasn’t talked much to other people of ver status ver age. I’m setting the precedent! If anything, I’m sure I’m setting the standards too high." Remember that thing I said about Ellis going back and forth between faux overconfidence and insecurity? Yeah that.

"Davis: Oh, hey Ellis. Are you busy?

Ellis: For you? Uh… I could make time, if you need me for something.

Davis: It’s nothing important. I was just going to go on a walk. You can join, if you’d like." ? Very curious about this. Even if the color coding’s gonna be awful :p

"Davis: …Is it nice?

Ellis: Not as nice as you.

My hand moves to form a finger gun, but I choose to slap my hand to my face instead.

Ellis: Gah! Sorry. Uh, I guess it’s nice? People say that ignorance is bliss, don’t they?" I do really appreciate that Ellis is trying their best to back off from doing their pickup lines on Davis, it's sweet :)

"Davis: …Hi, Jeff.

Jeff raises an eyebrow at him.

Jeff: Everything good?

Davis: It’s fine.

I notice Davis speaking with a short tone. Does Jeff… bother him?

Ellis: Y’know what might make us better? Bar snacks!" Okay Davis was confusing me before but now I genuinely have no clue what's happening anymore. I am very, very intrigued. Also good on Ellis trying to make things less awkward ig.

"Davis: …Is this really the best use of our time…?

Jeff: Nothing wrong with enjoying what we have, right? The others would want us to be happy or whatever." Is that what's bothering Davis? Jeff's nonchalance? But he didn't seem to have this issue with Ellis, who presents herself like that too, so... I don't know :v

"Davis: …Somewhere else. I wouldn’t want to… intrude…

Jeff: Nah, stay a while. What’s the harm?

Davis: …

He looks to Jeff, then to me, seeming a bit uncomfortable." Wait does he think Ellis and Jeff are flirting, because of the sunglasses and finger guns thing I kinda skipped over here? Is that what's happening? I can't think of anything else, so.

"Jeff: Everything’s chill. Honestly, life’s pretty good. It’s normal, right? Get what I can from the place before skipping out." Funny you use that word, "normal." I've talked about how a point that seems to be getting made is how different that concept is for everyone, and this seems to be furthering that theme, which is cool :)

"Ellis: Wait, are you planning to escape?

Jeff: …Someday, yeah, obviously? Like, at some point, one or more of us is gonna get out of here, and I’d like it to be me.

Davis: Even if you’re the only one?

Jeff: I mean… yeah? Everyone’s in it for themself. If everyone else goes and dies off, that’s not on me.

Too bad you’re not the lucky student, hot stuff." So we've decided we wanted even more parallels to Ellis' mindset, huh? Though if I understand the creation process correctly, this is more or less a coincidence, which is crazy. Point stands, though.

"Davis: Don’t you worry about them at all? Could you still see it as a good thing, if everyone else has to die for you?

Jeff: Sure. I’m in it for me, no matter where I am.

Davis: Don’t you think that’s selfish?

Jeff: I mean, yeah. But who cares? I’d expect everyone else to be acting in their own best interest all the time, too.

Davis: But… you’ve probably hurt people, haven’t you? The people you leave behind all the time… wouldn’t they miss you?

Jeff: Do I care?" Okay circle back, Davis doesn't think Jeff and Ellis are flirting. It's just that Ultimate Absentee is apparently a talent he really doesn't like, ig. Wonder if it ties into his Bachelor status in any way.

"Davis: Are you really just… going to ditch this conversation, too…?" Classic Jeff move xD

"Jeff: Geez, what’s his deal…?

Ellis: I guess he’s one of those “traumatized by murder” types.

Jeff: Ah. Sucks to be him, I guess." Bro???

"I excuse myself sooner than I’d like, though– for some reason, I’m feeling slightly nauseous. Must be the water." Uh... there's not already some kind of murder plan being set up, right? Ellis felt nauseous because of the conversation and is just doing his bravado thing when he says it's the water, right? Right?

"Unfortunately, tonight I find myself next to Vivi and Kennedy. At least Mark’s here." Speaking of murder, I'm getting really worried about the amount of screen time the Mad Duo is getting this chapter already. Surely, they wouldn't die yet, right? Right? x2

"Kennedy: Motive theories. Go." Hysterical. I love him xD

"Vivi: But, you don’t mean, like, death-death, right? Like, in a way we can’t still fix…? I wouldn’t just let someone die like that.

Ellis: Um… and what exactly does that mean?

Vivi: If someone’s still alive, I can save them, no matter what." I wonder if that idea will ever come into play.

"Kennedy: No, they’re onto something here! It wouldn’t just be them… Maybe, over the course of the game, different motives will only affect different people…" Why are we doing discussing this, anyways? Watch Kennedy be right about this lol.

[Motive Theory Discussion] There are some pretty good points being brought up here. I wonder if these characters did sign up for it. Knowing what we know about the Tragedy, it'd kinda make sense for followers of Junko to do some shit like that. But that's only a possibility. Who knows!

"Kennedy: True. But for now… You’re good at this, huh?

Mark: Me?

Kennedy: I’ve gotta get you up to speed. Together, the two of us could really figure out some big mysteries of this place." Get in loser we're going theorizing xD

Also what do you mean "two of us." Kennedy don't leave out Vivi like that >:p

Should I be worried that Mark is getting dragged into this sorta like Cass was, given Cass was the CH1 victim? Nah, surely not.

"Vivi: Still. [Kennedy's theories] all lead somewhere.

Ellis: Sure.

That “somewhere” is more like the middle of a mental desert with no gas, cash, or cell signal, but you can’t deny the journey." Lol.

"We’re really in the rat race now, aren’t we? While everyone chases after victory, morality, chill vibes, whatever, we’re all just becoming smaller creatures with pointier teeth, scrambling around the halls for nothing. I keep getting distracted by those damn pieces of cheese.

First, Harper diverts my attention with that colorful quilt and tries to lure me into ~emotional vulnerability~. Then, I bring Davis to the Pool, and he gets mad at Jeff and I for expressing our real emotions! And then there’s Kennedy, the wildest rat of all, chomping at the bit to try to outpace the scientists that have trapped us all. Good luck with that, Chuck E Cheese." Feeling poetic, are we? Pretty cool analogy though :)

"Monoquin: Greetings, contestants. Please enter the Movie Theater." Woo! Motive time! Everything's about to get worse! :D

"Right… just a few days ago, I was sitting here with both Vanessa and Antonia." Ouch.

"The screen displays what looks like a roulette wheel, but instead of the numbers, our faces sit at the ends of each of the fourteen slices." Oh hey it's the thing from the announcement poster! Minus Monoquin plus Ellis, presumably. Didn't think that would come up, but cool!

"It goes around, and around, and then, the screen goes black.

There’s a thud as something falls from a panel in the ceiling.

Ellis: Woah!

I instinctively lean away from where the object crashes down. No. No. No. This isn’t another of those crazy murder boxes, is it?" Alright I'm scared, what's happening.

"Grace: Justin? JUSTIN?!

Ellis: Wait, it actually IS another crazy body arrival?!

Noah: What?! Wait, no, that can’t…

Mark: This… this is the motive?

Monoquin: Yes. In the simplest of terms, this is the “Loved One’s Roulette.” Each day, at this same time, everyone will gather in the Movie Theater, and a randomly selected contestant will lose a loved one– whoever it would trouble them most to lose." ...Well there goes the Grace!MM theory! Sort of. And also Justin! Goddamn!

This is a pretty cool motive! THH just left the fate of the loved ones vague (and from UDG we know they weren't straight up dead), but this takes that and spins it! Now you don't know who the loved one is, but you know they're gonna die if you're unlucky! Adding that sort of random time limit is crazy, I love it.

Wait- Oh shit Kennedy was right! It did have to do with death! Crazy! Alright so now we know what the deal with the Show Room is, at least, which is neat.

Not only that, but it also only affects certain people! Mark, for example, wouldn't be affected because they don't remember any loved ones. I wonder if that really means there's only eleven loved ones in danger here, with five participants who don't have any loved ones to threaten them with. Antonia and Cass are probably two (not because they don't have loved ones, but because they're already dead), Mark's another, I'm betting Jeff is the fourth, and the fifth is Aidan maybe? Not so sure on those last two. That's kinda what makes the most sense to me right now, I wonder if they'll confirm or deny it.

Another point, sorta unrelated but still about the motive. Monoquin claims the loved one lost will be "whoever it would trouble [the participant] most to lose." Grace lost Justin, not their parents, which we know they have. Curious.

Also for some guesses as to which loved ones each person would lose:

Vanessa: Sister, confirmed to exist via Q&A.

Antonia: Sister (N/A since she's dead).

Paris: A friend? I don't think she's ever mentioned family.

Vivi: Family member, she's mentioned them a bunch.

Ellis: Step-siblings? Though the wheel probably won't land on them due to Luck.

Grace: Justin (obviously confirmed).

Noah: I would say sisters, but given his conversation with Vivi earlier, maybe it would be a friend.

Jeff, Aidan, Mark: N/A.

Taylor, Davis, Kennedy, Cass, Harper: No idea. (Cass is N/A anyways due to death).

Alright that was fun let's actually keep reading now :p

"They literally showcased this motive as a form of gambling. I’m the lucky one, and I’m great at gambling!" The point I made, yeah.

"This stupid wheel will never be able to lay its hands on my…

My…

…who?" Okay hold on maybe replace Aidan with Ellis in the N/A section lol. Does she really not have anyone, or does she just not know who it would be out of everyone she knows?

"Kennedy: Told you so.

Vivi: Kennedy!" I concur with Vivi, Kennedy this is kinda insensitive xD

"Aidan: Not the time for this, Rey." Yeah that.

"Grace: This isn’t fair! I… I should have had a chance, just like everyone else!

Monoquin: My apologies, Mx. Thomas, but it was random chance.

Taylor: Grace…?

Jeff: …You’d have done it, huh?

Ellis: Hey, hey, we don’t know that’s the “chance” that Grace was talking about. Maybe they just meant, y’know, a chance to process and… come to terms with it.

Who would it be?

Grace: I meant what I said. So what? It’s trading our lives for the lives of those we care about. Is it so criminal if the total number of lives lost would be the same thing?" Holy shit Grace was fucking ready. And you know they don't waste no time! If they hadn't gotten picked, come the next morning, there probably would have been a body to discover, and not from the roulette. Crazy. I wonder if Ellis' luck came into play there, to keep people alive for a bit longer by making the motive inapplicable to the one that hates wasting time.

Also yeah Ellis just straight up doesn't know who his loved one is, crazy.

"Vivi: …I can try to save him.

Harper: How…?

Vivi: I’ve never tried before, but it's possible… I don’t know how recently he died or anything, but… people’s hearts can stop and they can still be brought back, right? People can be temporarily “dead.” It’s possible…" Oh hey it did come up! Crazy timing ig.

"Grace: Absolutely not.

Vivi: Why not? If you care about him so much, isn’t it worth trying? Isn’t it our responsibility to do whatever we can to help these people?

Grace: And what would you do to him? If you fail, would his body still be intact? Would I even be able to recognize his face?

Vivi: H-hey!

Davis: This… isn’t really helping…

Vivi: So you’d kill for this guy, but now that he’s dead, you won’t even let me try to bring him back?!

Grace: Leave him alone!" Holy hell tensions are getting high, goddamn.

"Paris: Hey, you two, take a sec, deep breaths, chill, all that. Yelling isn’t gonna bring back the dead, y’know~?" This is not the time for a tilde (~), Paris! How are you still so unbothered by all this?! What?!

"I don’t have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, or… anyone…" Huh.

"Grace: No." Don't worry Vivi someone will let you do science here one day, I promise. You couldn't at the talent show and you couldn't now, but I trust.

"Davis: This… you said this was every day?

Monoquin: Until someone commits a murder, yes.

Taylor: That’s… such a cruel motive.

Aidan: …Get used to it, I guess." First Davis line not to work perfectly with Davis!MM btw, but also Aidan is as insane as ever lol.

"Would my family still care about me, after I left home? I don’t check back in often. I mostly just hang out with an entourage now– My… friends…?" Well, there's... some people it could be, maybe Aidan really is the fifth "N/A". Assuming that's what the graves mean, anyways.

[Noah FTE] Well time to move on from the most horrific shit ever! Hurray!

"Ellis: Yeah, the people here are a little different than your typical frat. Like, can you imagine Taylor in a frat? Paris???" That would be an image, for sure.

"Noah: Yeah, that’d be wild. You’d fit in pretty well, but I take it you don’t go to college.

Ellis: Pfft. ‘Course not. I don’t need that when I’ve already got fabulous wealth and great looks.

Noah: Makes sense." Just in case anyone was wondering, lol.

"Ellis: What do they teach you in those fancy college English classes?

Noah: I don’t really pay attention to most of them.

Ellis: Ayy, up top!" No respect for the classics smh.

"I shiver as I think of Robert on the dance floor." Truly, a horrifying image.

"Ellis: And, what about you? I assume you must’ve started partying at college, if not before.

I hope he doesn’t realize that I didn’t mention a “before.”" Yeah, for all we know about Ellis, we know surprisingly little of his earlier years.

"Noah: Like ten or something. I went to the same college as my dad, and he’s, like, super big on our frat. He donates all the time and helps run events and stuff, so I pretty much grew up there. 

Ellis: They let a ten year old into a college party?

Noah: Just me. It wasn’t, like, a usual thing." ???? Bro??? I mean neat backstory but what in the actual hell???

"Noah: As long as people get to where they need to be, it doesn’t matter too much how long it takes, right?

Ellis: Ah. You’re one of those “destination over journey” types.

Noah: It’s not like life ends at the destination, right? You’re just moving on to a new part." Neat perspective!

"Ellis: Hey, Mark. Uh, Vivi…? What are you doing…?

Vivi: Trying to find a way to raise the dead." Yeah this is a normal topic of conversation xD

"Vivi: I’m not going to try to resurrect Justin without Grace’s consent or anything! I’m just… seeing what theories I might have, in case someone consenting does show up." Good! I was worried at the start of this scene that something really fucked was going on.

"I look at Mark in a way that says, “please don’t tell me you’ve joined them, Mark.”

Mark: I figured it’d be good for someone to keep her company. There’s a lot they’re trying to do." Mad Duo turning into Theory Trio let's go!!! (I'm joking I don't really think Mark's that insane yet).

"Ellis: We really don’t need to add a zombie apocalypse on top of everything else." That would be a hell of a plot point though xD

"Vivi: I mean, you can’t guarantee if a corpse gives consent to it, but that’s why there are powers of attorney and stuff, right? It’s not like this never happens in the real world. Loved ones can consent for those who are unable to." Ah, the ethical ramifications of attempting to raise the dead, lol.

"Vivi: At least one person cares about their loved one enough to try to save them. I guarantee it." I mean, yeah. Vivi themself would probably try this on their loved one, right?

"Vivi: …I mean, hopefully I’ll get some test runs in. I ordered some mice from the Customer Service Desk…" Of course you did. Goddamn, they really weren't kidding when they said the doctor was Mad, huh?

"Noah: …She’ll be fine, right? She’s not going to do anything completely unreasonable…" I am very worried about whatever's about to happen.

"Then again, it is kinda messed up. It’s like using someone as an organ donor when they didn’t check that box on their driver’s license." The ethics of the situation are all kinda fucked, yeah.

"Whatever. Whatever. It’s just me. I’m not the one who needs to be making decisions like these. Coast until the lucky end– that was my strategy from the start, and it’ll be my strategy until the end." Classic Ellis, really.

"Noah: Hey, uh… good food at the buffet today, right?

Noah nudges Vanessa gently.

Vanessa: Yeah, it’s nice, I guess." I like how Noah's trying to cheer Ness up, it's sweet :)

"Aidan: …Hey. Who do you think your people are?

Vanessa: Uh… I mean, my sister, probably…" Yeah... ouch...

"Noah: …It’s gotta be my dad. I’ve… sort of accepted it, if it has to happen." I kinda forgot about his dad earlier in this post oops. But yeah, this tracks with the FTE.

"Ellis: Well, uh… I care about all of them equally! So, still no leads." Sure babe.

"Aidan: Eleven graves, fourteen contestants. Three people don’t have anyone in the rotation." Oh so suddenly theorizing about the motive based on the Show Room is okay, huh? Funny how that workds xD

"Aidan: It’s gotta be, right? I assume one is Mark, because they wouldn’t recognize anyone who turned up for them. Then there’s me, and one more.

Vanessa: You don’t care about anyone…?

Aidan: I mean, who would it be? It’s not like I’ve consistently spent time with anyone recently, or ever. Hell, in the last year, I've probably had the most conversations with Davis ‘cause he keeps coming to me." Seems he and I arrived at the same conclusion about Mark, so the question is whether the last one is Jeff or Ellis (or someone else but I find the others a bit more unlikely). Also, I wasn't imagining it, Davis is sticking close to Aidan, cool!

"Aidan: Do you remember what Grace said earlier today? About the whole trading equal numbers of lives thing? It’s not one to one. Not if you try to actually win as the blackened.

Ellis: Well yeah, if you assume that each of us only has one person on standby. As far as we know, there’s nothing to stop Grace from being rolled again.

Aidan: Nah, I asked Monoquin. One slot per person. If we get through all fourteen days, the motive’s over, and we get a new one." I mean, the whole "one to one" thing really wouldn't last if a few more deaths happened before someone actually murdered, so. But cool to know that there's only one per person!

"Vanessa: If no one you care about is at stake, why do you even care so much…? 

He shrugs.

Aidan: I figured other people did." Right, Aidan acts on what he thinks other people care about, since he doesn't give a shit about anything, generally speaking.

"Ellis: Do you think… the mastermind has someone on the line? Or do you think they’re one of those three slots? [...]

Noah: I mean, couldn’t the mastermind, like… lie? They could have the randomizer rigged, or turn up some random body and be like, “oh no, my person!” We don’t actually know who anyone’s people are, let alone what they look like. 

Vanessa: If it’s like that, then do you think the mastermind would bother with all that…?

Aidan: It’s probably less suspicious that way, right?" Oh hey, maybe Grace!MM is back on, actually. Would make sense if they didn't want to risk Vivi actually raising the dead only for the corpse to reveal that he's not Justin actually xD I don't think that's what's happening, but y'know. Where is Kennedy when you need him?

"Aidan: Me, Mark, and one more. Probably Ellis or Jeff.

Ellis: Wh–hey! I just told you who my people were!

Aidan: Not really." Lmao. Also yeah Aidan and me are on, like, the exact same wavelength here.

"Super Vivi is here to save the day, defy god, and reverse the biological process that’s ruled the Earth since its creation! I’m sure a 20-something in a crop top with a scalpel dangling from her ear is perfectly equipped to handle that. Honestly, how do they delude themself so badly…?" Ellis just can't handle a death defying bitch, huh?

"But, what if? Luck can only carry someone so far. I can be delayed as far to the back as I please, but if no one kills for fourteen days, there’s no running or hiding from seeing my result, whatever it may bring. Does that just mean that somebody will kill before my sliver has the chance to yield results?

Who am I kidding? We’ve had two contestants die before there was even a motive announced. Somebody’s definitely going to snap if there are actual other lives on the line. There just might be a few more bodies than anticipated standing in the way between me and my freedom." Yeah, no chance it actually goes through all 14 lol. That said, I am very curious to see who'll be next.

-

Wow, what a chapter! Motive's getting announced pretty quickly, all things considered, but it makes sense with what the motive is. And it's a hell of a motive! I like it a lot! As always, excited to move forward, this chapter's looking even better than the last one! I'm just worried about how much we seem to be lining up for Vivi to die this chapter, but let's hope I'm just imagining things xD Thanks for reading, see ya'!

[gracie7209]

Amaryllis Epilogue

Pairing: Frankie x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, fluffy-fluff, reflection- (of more than one sort? I’m on one today. Don’t mind me lol), happiness, loved ones, we get to meet Reader’s momma! (Her English isn’t great so we will see her and Reader speaking Spanish) tiny sliver of angst? Lemme know if I forgot anything!

Summary: Just before your lives are set to change yet again, you and Frankie each get a moment alone to reflect on how life has brought you to where you are now. Santi saves the day yet again!

A/N: Guys…… This is it! We have officially officially reached the end of this story and I’m a whole mess of emotions. The has been such a labor of love and learning for me. It’s my very first fic and also the very first piece of writing I have ever shared with anyone. As previously mentioned, I have several new WIPs and I cannot WAIT to get to work on them! For everyone who has commented, liked, reblogged, asked questions or shown even the tiniest bit of love for my little story, I just want to thank you with everything I have. I have wanted to write since I was little, but could never put pen to paper until I forced myself to write a little 100 word Drabble, which literally turned into this series. The Pedro fandom alone has literally changed my life in so many ways and I will forever be grateful. So anyways....... Thank you all so much!!!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When he sees himself in the mirror, Frankie is all nerves.

Checking and rechecking his hair, making sure his tie isn’t crooked… worrying the little patch in his scruffy beard that refuses to fill in.

His palms are sweating and his stomach is doing flips, but he’s unbelievably HAPPY.

He never thought he would be here. Never thought he would ever want to be doing this, but you had changed his way of thinking in more ways than one.

It had always terrified him to feel as though he were tied to something. Or so he thought…

In reality, he never felt he was worth enough for someone to ever want to be tied to him. The things he had done, the horrors he’d seen? The nightmares he still endured would run off anyone who might be even the slightest bit interested. Damaged…

Valid.

He was damaged. There was no way to come out from that other side and not be. But to those who weren’t there? Ones who could never understand what he’d been through? They would only pity him and he didn’t want that.

He just wanted understanding. Wanted someone to accept him as he was, without trying to fix him.

And then there was you. You never looked at him like he was damaged. You knew about things and yet you never held anything against him. You knew the atrocities he’d seen and those he had committed, yet you never backed away from him or looked down on him.

From the beginning, Frankie felt a connection to you. He didn’t know what you’d been through at the time, but there was an understanding there - “We’re not defined by our experiences Frankie,” you’d tell him.

“We simply learn from our mistakes, grow into better people, and if we are genuine, that’s all that really matters. —You yourself told me something similar at one time, remember?”

Frankie smirks at the memory. Shaking his head, as he gets back to the task at hand.

...

He doesn’t think he can tie it any better, so he takes one final look, takes a deep breath and smiles at himself in the oversized mirror. Just a small half smile, knowing that what he was about to do was going to change his life forever….

And he was ready.

—

It doesn’t start to sink in until about ten minutes beforehand that you are actually going to marry Frankie today. You’re in the small guest room, waiting for your mother to stop fussing over you already and to let you look in the mirror. “Mija, todo tiene que ser perfecta!” (Everything has to be perfect)

“Mamà, está bien... ¿puedo mirar ahora? Ya casi es hora de irse..." (It’s ok….. can I look now? It’s almost time to go…)” There’s no malice in your tone as your mouth turns up into a silly smile that you just can’t seem to hold back.

“Ah, si mi hermosa luz, creo que estes lista. Ven agora, and a y mira.”(Ah yes my beautiful light, I believe you are ready. Come now, go ahead and look.)

You stand up and slowly walk over to the full length mirror. The look on your face doesn’t at all match the sheer joy you feel in your chest. The initial shock wears off, but the weight of the moment hits you then; You’re marrying Frankie today. This incredible man who barreled his way into your life and decided he wanted to stay.

To see yourself in your mother’s wedding gown and jewelry, knowing that Frankie was waiting for you had your eyes welling up with tears. You silently prayed they stayed put as your mother had fussed with your makeup for a small eternity and Lord help you if you messed it up. So, you forced the tears back, albeit they were happy, joyous, singing to the choir tears that would surely fall once everything was said and done. You were more certain now in this choice, in Frankie, than at any other time in your life..

You gave yourself one final look in the mirror before turning back to your mother. Grabbing her small hands in yours and kissing her forehead, you silently thanked her for everything she had done for you; today and everyday.

“Ok Mija?”

“Si Mamà, Estoy lista.” (Yes, I’m ready.)

—

The ceremony was modest, with only close family and friends in attendance, but you were blessed beyond reason.

Those in attendance included your mother, who had brought along your Aunt and your two little cousins all the way from Cuba. You hadn’t seen her in ages, and this was the first time you’d gotten the chance to meet the little ones.

Frankie’s Mom and Step-Dad had flown in from Texas along with his older sister, which had been a surprise to the both of you, having never gotten to meet them prior. They welcomed you with nothing but warmth and love. Your previous apprehension at making a good impression, falling away the moment his mother wrapped you in her arms as she introduced herself.

She also took little to no time in latching onto your and soon-to-be Frankie’s son, her Grandson. Who she happily spoiled rotten from the get go and volunteered to be in charge of during the ceremony, giving your own mother a well deserved break as she had been deemed (by herself) as the primary babysitter.

And of course, Santi, Will and Benny were front and center. They would’ve all been groomsmen if you and Frankie had decided to have a wedding party. Instead you both opted for just a simple service. Santi would still supply the rings, but aside from the preacher, it would only be you and Frankie standing at the altar.

—

It was time.

You took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly as you turned the small corner to make your way to Frankie.

As you slowly made your way down the aisle, you didn’t expect to become breathless at the sight before you.

The expectation was that, the Bride-to-be would walk in and a hush would wash itself throughout the room. All eyes on her as she made her way to alter to join her fiancé.

You were sure your anxiety would rear its ugly head at being the center of attention, and had tried to give yourself a pep talk before walking inside. However, the moment you laid eyes on Frankie, you nearly stopped in your tracks.

You realized at that moment that you had never seen Frankie wear anything remotely resembling dress attire, let alone a suit and tie.

It was always jeans and a t-shirt, jacket when necessary and work boots… always work boots. He looked good on any given day and there had never been an occasion up until that point for him to “dress up.” But, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him…

His hair was still a disheveled mess of curls that you loved to run your fingers through. Not too long, but long enough that the ends would curl behind his ears. He just wouldn’t be Frankie without them, so you were grateful he didn’t try to tame them back. He was also wearing his glasses, which he had been trying to wear more and more these days as he couldn’t stand to wear his contacts after having gone without them for so long.

His tux was your normal coat and pants, but completely white, with a black bowtie and shoes with a shine that could blind a person if they got too close. You don’t think you have ever seen someone so beautiful in your life and he was yours.

You had managed to keep your pace steady all the way to the alter, even though you had half a mind to just run and get yourself there that much faster. Your mother was waiting up front to take your bouquet and give you over to the man you truly wanted to spend your life with. She kissed your cheek before turning to Frankie and offering him your hand. As he took it she wrapped both yours and Frankie’s hands in hers, saying she loved you both and giving a firm squeeze before letting you go and sitting back down at her seat in the front.

Frankie took both of your hands and whispered from under his messy bangs, “Are you ready?”

You couldn’t speak so you just nodded, trying not to cry before the preacher even had a chance to talk.

You tried to concentrate on the words being said, the prayer being read to the audience, but you could only focus on Frankie’s smile and his thumbs rubbing reassuring circles into your hands. You didn’t know why you were so nervous, but ultimately, it didn’t matter. Frankie was sure as stone and after you both repeated your vows and placed the rings on each others’ fingers, Frankie lifted your veil, seeing your lips quirk up into a smile and he kissed you. In front of all of the people who mattered to you the most in this world.

His kiss was equal parts strong and soft with his hand coming to your cheek while the other wrapped around your waist. You didn’t dip, but he held almost all of your weight as he put his entire life into that kiss. Letting you and everyone else know that you were it for him.

—

When you both came up for air, there was nothing but big smiles and happy tears from everyone around. Benny was hooping and hollering, and even Will had his hand to his mouth letting out a piercing whistle that echoed throughout the church. Santi was clapping along with the others, with an almost forlorn expression that seamlessly slipped back into a playful smile once Benny clapped him on the shoulder, joining in with everyone else in raining congratulations on the happy couple. Frankie took your hand and raised them both entwined up toward the sky as you walked back down the aisle, side by side, as husband and wife. The both of you more than ready to begin this new chapter in your lives.

Together.

—

—

Two hours earlier -

“Rings, rings…. Uh, shit!” Santi is looking around frantically, shuffling papers and patting down his pockets, seemingly having misplaced the rings he was in charge of.

“Haha, very funny pendejo…. Now’s really not the time to be fuckin’ around…” Frankie’s voice is playful, but when he looks over at Santi, he sees the panic starting to set in.

“Fuck man, seriously? You had one job… !” Frankie is pacing now alongside Santi as they both desperately search for the missing rings.

“Wait!! Wait, oh! Shit haha, we’re good, we’re good, man. We're fine, everything's fine... I just left them on the kitchen table after I grabbed the mail this morning. I only live like ten minutes away from here, I’ll be right back!”

“Jesus Pope! I about lost my goddamn ass over here man… Shit, just go grab them and come straight back, ok?”

“Alright, alright…. You need anything else while I’m out?”

“For fucks sake Pope! Just go!”

“Yep, yep on it!” At that, Santi runs out the door, leaving Frankie to his thoughts for the moment.

He sits down on the little couch in the sitting area and puts his head in his hands. He’s nervous and he wants this day to go perfectly, but he actually starts to laugh when he thinks about the circumstances.

All of this fuss over rings, when in reality, they were just a symbol. A token to show the world that you were his person, and he was yours. And even if Pope had lost them, it honestly wouldn’t change a thing. He was marrying you today, with or without a ring, and he could hardly wait.

—

It only takes Santi about eight minutes to get to his place. Possibly breaking a few speed limits to do so, but he did not want to be the cause of something ruining this day for either of you.

He goes inside and sees the ring boxes sitting right there on the table next to the untouched pile of mail. He lets out a deep breath, muttering under his breath, "Thank you, God!" Checking inside each box, making absolutely sure he had everything before putting them safely in his jacket pocket. Picking up the stack of mail, he quickly skims through it out of habit. Finding an envelope in the mix with only his name and address handwritten on the front with no return address.

He carefully opens it, revealing a small slip of folded paper. On the inside is a jumbled set of numbers and symbols…

Ones that he recognizes instantly—

—

—

Coordinates.

Coordinates to the money stolen out of the walls of Lorea’s house before it was burned to the ground. Money that was dumped in a ravine to get rid of extra weight that made flying too dangerous. Coordinates that only he, Will, and Benny knew about. Aside from one other person.

Tom.

Tom had found the money.

—

—

Taglist: @boliv-jenta @just-here-for-the-moment @quica-quica-quica @heythere-mel @sunnysidekit @dashavau @queridopascal @queridopascal-main @hnt-escape @rhoorl @readingiskeepingmegoing @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @bitchwitch1981 @jb2856 @mymo-n @littlemisspascal @tanzthompson @luciferiorbxtch @spookyxsam @imaswellkid @harriedandharassed @autumnleaves1991-blog @wildemaven @pastelnap @pimosworld @alwaysdjarin

A/N: Whoops!

*But seriously, from the bottom of my heart, thank you all for reading. It absolutely means the world to me 🥹

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 7

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note:I’ll be honest that these parts are a little more hands on because I’m full on learning cocktail recipes here lol.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

You leave your apartment, the window boarded up with your landlords half-assed at replacement. You almost prefer the wood; more resilient and you can’t see through it. Still, the place feels eerie. Your little fortress has been breached and the mystery of the attacker has you addled.

You walk into work as you always do. Head down, bag hooked over one shoulder, fingers twiddling as you go through your task list in your mind. You put your things in the coatroom and go to the kitchen.

You grab the broom and mop, eager to go over anything you didn't get to before. Behind the bar, upstairs and downstairs and the private rooms that were always in use even after closing. You methodically work your way from the bottom floor up.

As you return the bucket and pan, Thor is behind the bar. You give a small hi as he booms his usual hello. You tuck away the broom and mop and wipe your hands on your apron, grabbing a cloth to tuck into it from the tidy stack leftover from the day before. You have a whole load of napkins to deliver to the servers' station.

Thor enters as you begin sorting through the cutlery into the slotted tray. You peek up at him briefly, shying back to your task.

"How are you? Good night?"

"Mhmm," you hum, "you?"

"Good," he answers, letting silence dangle as he gives a thoughtful hum, "you made it home okay?"

"Safe and sound," you reply as you examine a spoon and put it by the sink to be rewashed.

"And a nice sleep?"

You pause as his line of questioning irks you. He's nice enough but sometimes his conversation feels intrusive. You told him already, you're fine.

"Yep," you shrug, "how about your night?"

"Ah, I did some reading, and a bit of drinking," he winks as you glance at him once more, "they've still not rehired. Just me again."

"That's too bad."

"Lonesome," he chuckles lightly, "but I can always count on you, can't I, fawn?"

You nod, elusive at giving an answer. You don't like being behind the bar and to be fair, it's frustrating doing extra work without the pay to match.

"Have I done something? Said something?" He prods as he comes closer, standing at the other side of the counter.

"No."

"Hmm," he hums as his large hands rest on the silver edge, "you certain?"

You nod again. You hate to even think it, it feels mean, but you just want to be left alone. You miss those days when no one noticed you.

"Well… my hand feels much better," he waves his bandaged fingers.

"That's good," your lips twitch with a momentary smile, "I should take this to the hub."

"Nah, I got it," he volunteers as he grabs the tray of silverware, "little thing like you carrying all this around, that's no good."

"I do it all the time–"

"Yes, well, perhaps it is time you let others help, fawn," he insists, keeping the tray out of your reach, "you might actually enjoy it."

He spins and struts out before you can respond. You don't even know how you would. It confounds you how he can be so friendly yet so pushy. It puts you off yet makes you feel so ungrateful. You can't assume the worst of him because he reminds you of someone else.

🍸

You finish your shift without much disturbance. A few times you bring out clean glasses to the bar and incap a few bottles but nothing exhaustive. Sonny keeps you entertained as he tells you about his time in the corps. He also makes sure Thor can't steal you away again as he keeps you busy with the pans.

The chef leaves first. He works short shifts, leaving the kitchen tidy as he puts on his leather vest and gives a wave. You enter the bar as last call sounds and gather up any empties you can find, you'll do another sweep once it's empty.

You wait out the last of the clubgoers and return to the dance floor, oddly quiet and vacant. The servers count their tips at the station and you hear the subtle clink of glasses from behind the bar. You have your earbuds in still, the low buzz of your favourite playlist easing the tension.

You don't notice when the servers leave, silence is only ever comforting so you rarely make note of it. As you bend to grab a crushed can from beneath a table, a foot appears around the other side. You stand and face Thor as he smiles at you.

"Need help?" He offers.

"All good," you assure him as you dump the can in the plastic bag.

He stares and you back away, looking around for more garbage.

"What're you listening to?" He frightens you again as the blur of his finger fills your peripheral as he points to your ear.

"Oh nothing," you say, "just music."

"What kind of music?"

You blanch. It feels too rude to ignore him or ask him to leave you be. You're working but there's not much left to do. You stand up and face him. Again, you're reminded of his height.

"Florence and the Machine."

"Ah, I love her, er, them?" He questions, "it is a band, yes?"

"I think," you push your lip out indecisively.

"Do you listen to music often?"

"I guess," you squint. His questions are stiff and awkward. Almost like an interrogation.

"You have a record player," he says and you wince, thinking of the green suitcase player in the corner of your apartment, "asking. Sorry, that came out weird."

You clutch the bag and utter an answer, "yeah…" you look around, "I should finish…"

"Of course," he gulps audibly, "let me know if you need me to walk you home… I heard about another girl, eh? At the club down the block, you know the one, right?"

You don't know. You shake your head, "I had no idea, thanks."

"Wanna make sure you're safe," he backs away slowly, "so I'll wait by the door?"

You hesitate and grab a napkin, shoving it in the bag.

"You should just go home, I hate to keep you late."

"I don't mind–"

"I do," you interrupt without meaning to. You sniff and look at him, "really, I'll be okay."

He stares at you, the humour draining from his face as his cheek tics. He looks very unlike himself. It takes your breath away.

Just as quickly as he darkened, he brightens up again and turns his palms out, "stay safe."

He turns and strides away. You watch his back and tension corded in his forearms as he closes and opens his fists. The tenor of his last words hang in the air, more ominous than hopeful.

Maybe it's all in your head. It's the broken window and the unattached footsteps and the memories. You're fucked up and that's why you're better off alone.

[maoam]

Ramblings stemming from frustration with this fandom sometimes. ( Naruto. )

I know Naruto fandom has always been a tad toxic ever since it started becoming popular and such, but something about these newer fans who are so comfortable with d3ath threats, body shaming, sa threats, and d0xxing other people for the sake of a character. Fandom discourse is truly never that serious and the fact that they’ve become so obsessed with “ratioing” or “owning” other people that they’re willing to say absolutely vile things all for what… some likes? Validation from other gross people?

And then for these people to still say they’re the “good part of the fandom” or “the sane part”. It’s almost narcissistic for lack of a better word at the moment. ( not diagnosing anyone or speaking as if I’m some sort of mental health expert. Just can’t think of another word right now because of the headache this phenomenon is causing me as it is becoming much too common. )

They have this obsession with demonizing “the other side.” To the point of making false claims, which is insane. Or maybe they actually believe them? I can’t tell. They just spread whatever makes them feel good about what they like and don’t care about the source.

This is mainly a lame annoyed rant about the Hinata fanbase which have become somehow even worse within the past few days with their weird obsession with trying to get the Boruto artist (I think he works for sp? Unsure as he says most of his art is fanart but he made a like two or three official pieces that were on the official boruto/naruto page.) fired and sending him death threats for I guess just not drawing Hinata as much as they want? Like to the point where they were literally saying she was being “oppressed and bullied” by this artists. It was insane to see in person because you really would like to believe people WOULDNT compare a character not being drawn in a way they approve of to the oppression the people of Palestine are facing but hey, I suppose it’s a competition now to see how much of a bad person you can be for the sake of a character.

Also I know this is not just an issue in the hinata fandom, although the recent need to fetishize how “Asian Hinata is compared to that white girl sakura.” Is irking me a lot more than what other fandoms have done as of recent that I’m aware of. The Sakus seem to be their usual level of delusion and crappy attitude. Which is easy to ignore for me.

Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point? Because as I’m writing this I’m seeing just how insane this really is. This *shouldn’t* be real. This *shouldn’t* be things people say without shame. And yet, people just throw their morals for… what, internet points? The self validation that they defended to their favorite character? Who knows.

You might not even read this, I wouldn’t blame you lol. Just me being annoyed with how comfortable people within the naruto fandom have become so comfortable with being bad people.

My only real question is have you noticed an increase of toxicity within the fandom? Do you think this behavior has gotten worse with the ending of Naruto and beginning of Boruto?

I kinda get what you mean. I remember even before the manga ended there was apparently aggressive fights between Narusaku/Naruhina shippers, like the body shaming towards the other ship's girl and so on. And SS also were aggressive. But nowadays it indeed seems worse. I'm not sure if it's because we have new big platforms? Twitter and Tiktok I mean, both have really cancerous fandom spaces.

SS/NH harass official staff all the time, as well as other parts of the fandom. And then they act like victims because some people think Sakura and Hinata are shitty characters lol. Meanwhile they treat real people like shit. I think it might be because everyone makes fun of their ships/girls all the time, because it's so easy, so they become even crazier in trying to compensate, they try to harass the staff for more content for their ship, to get back at the people who say their ships suck. Also because so many popular content creators keep making content on Naruto and Sasuke being gay and Sakura/Hinata being their beards it's also humiliating to them.

Of course, they also need to fight which girl is the best girl. Which girl is less of a single mother for example. XD

"Or maybe they actually believe them?" Considering how many SS have convinced themselves that some moments that happened between Naruto and Sasuke actually happened between Sasuke and Sakura, I can believe them being that delusional.

"Does it sound like I’m making stuff up at this point?" No because I have witnessed it myself, plenty Sakura and Hinata stans on twitter have that toxic "bad bitch" attitude that they think makes them queens or whatever, they harass people and are extremely aggressive and think female character doing the bare minimun = queen behaviour. It comes off as very childish and narcissistic. No wonder Sakura and Hinata as characters appeal to them.

[vermont-writes-fanfic]

Can I please request a Pip x reader comfort. College is stressing me out to mental breakdowns and I crave comfort

Sure thing lol anon! Just want to say I really hope you get some down time sometime soon, taking time for yourself is so super important!

Request: Yes

Warnings: Mental Breakdown/Panic attack, mentions of stress, anxiety, hi sexy innuendoes if you squint hard enough, comfort, crying, cursing

Characters: Pip Bernadotte x Reader

Reader Pronouns: She/Her

It’s Okay

Working for the Hellsing organisation has been…a lot, to say the least. Since the events with Seras, Alucards peon, and then Father Anderson a lot had to be taken into account. Not to mention the paper work for all of those soldiers who had died. Despite the low-key nature of the job, working their had no shortage of paperwork and it was becoming too much to handle. Sir Integra had given you your own room and office away from the general noise but that only did so much. Luckily you had Pip to rely on when things got to be a little too much for you, he would come and sit beside you and hold you in his arms or take you out, no matter what he always knew what to do. As you sit at your blackthorn desk, the sound of the clock ticking away started to irk you, reminding you of the constant time limit you were on. A mountain of messily arranged paperwork waiting to be reviewed or organised looms over you menacingly. You had barley even touched the paper, yet it seems your just about ready to quit already. You can feel the tears well up and sighs in frustration. You were trying to study last night in this same room and the massive books paired with all the extra paper work made getting any work done seem impossible. Your vision blurs as tears well up in your eyes and you slump deep into your chair willing them to go back or go anywhere but rolling down your cheeks.

Minutes later the door opens, though you can’t be bothered to look up, if you did now your raging headache would only worsen. They turn off the lights, which for a small moment calms your mind. As they step closer, you can hear that slightly slurred humming, it’s deep, comforting with that low trill in his chest. It’s Pip, you can tell, you can always tell. He had that certain calming affect on you that nothing and no one else really did. His long arms wrap around you as he mutter, accent thick in how low voice.

“Come now cheri, do not cry,”

You can’t help but hold him closer chest heaving with your heavy sobs, face wet with tears.

“That’s it, just let it out. I’m right here amour,”

He is always so sweet, as you calm down some, he moves you to the couch and pats you down. Before you know it, you fall asleep and it’s hours later when you wake up. Instead of waking to his face, you wake up to his ping limbs sprawled out on the floor surrounded by papers that seem to be some sort of organized. Surprisingly it’s not awful, they have a general rhyme and reason to it. His face lights up when you are awake and he gives you a sloppy grin.

“Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind now mon cheri?”

You nod sitting down next to him

“It’s just…been a lot. Between studying what Sir Interga has asked of me and handling all this,” you gesture to the massive amounts of paper work “ I guess I just feel overwhelmed,”

He nods following a long, as you to talk and he chats about what he had been doing before. With the help of his silly jokes and flirtatious behavior you finish your work early and decide to spend the rest of the day laying with him. As you take a sip of his drink he smiles down at you.

“It’s okay to take a break mon cheri, ”

I hope you liked it! I kinda forgot what I was doing so I’m really sorry if it flips but I hope it makes you feel a little better!