#and then had to check to make sure i was remembering right

[robertsfloyd]

can you write something about owners Lando and Oscar with a puppy reader who is very clingy and needy

I've been writing some personal stuff!! I got back into writing high fantasy concepts with @ride-em-cowboy and I'm literally obsessed!!

"Angel," oscar whispered as he placed his finger under your chin and tipped your head up.

Your tail hit his leg as you looked at him, a whimper leaving your lips. You knew that tone, knew what it meant.

They were leaving soon.

You buried your head against his chest again, another whimper leaving his lips. "Hey, hey, hey," he mumbled. "C'mon, Puppy. Don't do that."

Be a good girl for me.

He didn't need to say it, but you knew it was coming. You looks up at him, a pout on your face as you stared into his eyes. He moved his thumb over your cheekbone as he looked at you. "You know what I'm gonna say. "

You nodded your head.

"You-"

But Oscar cut you off before you could spit those words out, say what you always said when they left you. You don't love me. But they did love you. They moved you more than you could ever understand.

"C'mon, Pup. You know we'd take you with us if we could," he mumbled and you nodded your head. "If we didn't love you, you wouldn't be here, would you?"

Oscar was always the logical one, always the one to make sure you had your head screwed on straight before you freaked out, started whining and crying and barking for them.

"Why can't I come with you?" You asked as you wrapped your arms around him, chin on his chest.

He gently petted your head. "You don't like flying, Angel."

Oh, that was right. You hated flying, spent the short journeys from France to other European countries with your head buried against his and landos chests.

"Still," you whispered, blinking back tears.

The front door opened and you scrambled off of his lap.

In a matter of seconds, your arms and legs were wrapped around landos leg, stopping him from moving. "You can't leave me!" You cried as you sniffled, ears buried beneath your hair.

Lando looked around, a little lost. He looked down at you and moved his hand to pet your hair. "Hey, Puppy," he said softly as he looked down at you. "What're you doing?"

You tightened your grip on him. "You can't leave me."

"Who said anything about leaving you, baby?" He mumbled as he pulled you to your feet.

"Oscar."

Oscar had actually said the opposite.

Lando raised his eyebrows, looking like he didn't believe you. A grin split across his face as he pulled you against him and kissed your forehead. "Oh, my darling, my baby," he mumbled.

You looked up at him, blinked and whimpered, and he kissed you.

"You like the dog sitter, remember angel?"

You didn't need a dog sitter, didn't need somebody to look after you. As much as you liked being pampered, you could take care of yourself.

But not according to the law. According to the law, you couldn't be on your own for more than a few hours. According to the law you were incapable of leaving the house on your own.

"We'll call you every night, okay?" He asked as he walked you forward, walked you back to the couch where Oscar sat. "We'll check in on you whenever we can."

Oscar reached for you and pulled you into his lap. He leaned up, kissed lando quickly, and laid his chin on top of your head. "We're gonna miss you as much as you miss us, Sweetheart," he said and kissed the top of your head.

"Gonna miss everything about you." Lando laid his hands on your thighs, not covered up by your shorts.

Oscar squeezed your hips. "Gonna make the most of the time we got before the race."

"You want that, Angel? You want Oscar and I to make you feel good?"

Your only response was a whimper.

[delugyu]

beomgyu teaching you how to jerk him off (pls i’m ovulating i need to be put down)

hey twin i’m ovulating too! can u tell by how depraved this is

(wc: 2k / warnings: virgin!reader, corruption kink, big dick!beomgyu, handjob)

beomgyu’s head might explode. quite possibly his dick too. you’re sitting in front of him on his bed, wide-eyed and innocent but so eager to help him with something so dirty. he has to calm down before he blows his load too fast and makes himself look like the virgin here.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” beomgyu asks, checking in one more time before he lets you put your hands on him. you nod with sparkling eyes and a cheerfulness that doesn’t match the situation at hand. he can’t deny how much your eagerness turns him on, though. beomgyu never thought he had a thing for virgins, but fuck, you’re doing something to him.

you sit cross-legged, hands held in your lap as you await instruction. it makes beomgyu’s cock throb, and his head is reeling with all the images of things he wants to do with you. he keeps himself grounded as best as he can, trying to remember that you’re here to learn, not to fulfill fantasies of his own.

“what do i do first?” you ask, looking at his pants. it makes him laugh. he grabs your chin to redirect your attention back to his face, smiling fondly when he sees a hint of embarrassment in your eyes.

“you should always start with kissing,” beomgyu says, tugging you towards him until you’re sitting in his lap. the surprise on your face is pretty cute. “it really sets the mood.”

“okay,” you say, but do nothing. beomgyu tries to hold back his laughter, but he just can’t. it’s so funny to watch you get so shy. you pout, then pull your face in to peck his cheek. he runs a hand up your thigh, endeared by your action.

“a real kiss,” he says. it really doesn’t seem like you’re going to make the move, so he decides to make it easier for you. he cups your face and brings you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that starts out much sweeter than what the moment would suggest.

your lips are soft and fit well against his own, and beomgyu finds himself feeling so lucky that you’d ask him of all people to help you with something like this. it makes him happy that you trust him this much. he bites your lip ever so slightly to get you gasping, letting his tongue slip between your parted lips to deepen the kiss.

he doesn’t want to overwhelm you, so he holds himself back from getting too intense. he’ll settle with this slow, sensual kiss, at least until you get confident enough to take more. your little noises are admittedly very hot, and beomgyu knows you must feel his cock twitching beneath you.

you pull away to catch your breath, and your eyes fall on the string of saliva connecting your lips. beomgyu smiles and licks his lips as if he’ll catch any lingering tastes of you. you hesitantly bring your face back to his, and he closes his eyes and parts his lips expectantly, but your mouth meets his jaw instead. you don’t place a peck there like you did to his cheek—you suck on his skin like you would his lips, pulling away after a few seconds to blink up at him.

beomgyu’s stomach is doing cartwheels. he can’t help but find everything you do attractive, even when it’s done with such uncertainty and inexperience. your mouth continues latching onto his skin and sucking, trailing down his neck. he’s sure that you won’t leave any marks—you’re not really sucking that hard, but it’s enough to have him losing his mind. he groans when your hips involuntarily push forward. he wonders how wet you must be right now if you’re already having trouble controlling your body.

“can i touch you now?” you ask, fingers dipping into the hem of his pants. god, beomgyu’s head is spinning. you must be some kind of succubus sent to taint his soul. if you are, it’s fucking working. he’s obsessed and all he’s felt so far is your lips.

he nods and leans back a bit. “yeah, take those off.” you pull down his pants and boxers both in one go, and he watches with a grin when your eyes widen at his cock springing out.

“you’re really big,” you muse, still staring at his dick. beomgyu bites his lip as he watches you wrap a hand around his shaft, not able to close your hand all the way because of his girth. you look up at him, unsure what to do next. beomgyu has to reel himself in, remembering that he should be teaching you right now.

“you should spit in your hand to lube it up. dry handjobs don’t feel that good,” he advises. he holds his breath as he watches you bring your hand to your mouth, a glob of spit falling past your lips and into your palm. he shuts his eyes tight to keep himself together, trying not to cum from just the sight of you doing something so dirty.

your hand falls back to his cock and gives it a few jerks to lubricate it. beomgyu bites his tongue to hold back a moan, but he can’t stop his hips from bucking up into your fist. your eyes meet his again, curious and bright. he wants to kiss you again, but he has to remember that this isn’t about him.

“is this good?” you ask, working your saliva-slicked hand over his cock. if you only knew how hard beomgyu was holding back right now—even through your clumsy handjob, something about you is making beomgyu lose his mind.

“y-yeah. you can try squeezing a little tighter, maybe,” he says, and he cringes at how uncomposed he sounds. the moment you take his advice and wrap your fist tighter around him, he throws his head back and groans. it seems to encourage you, and you start moving a little faster.

fuck, he can’t cum yet. he’s trying to think of anything else, something to keep him from bursting at the seams, but the feeling of your hand wrapped around him is so overwhelming. you look so focused, like you’re taking notes of his reactions and repeating anything that makes him keen. you’re fucking ruining him, god.

“how do i make you cum?” you ask, and the question itself is nearly enough to do it. he’s catching his breath and looking at you through hooded eyes, taking in your eager little hand tugging at his cock and the way you look so determined to get him off. a part of him wants to lay you down and get you all worked up; it’s not fair for him to be suffering alone like this.

“you can—ah, fuck—twist your hand when you come up,” he suggests, and his eyes roll back when you try it out. your movements are getting more confident now, and beomgyu can’t contain his moans anymore. his mouth hangs open, panting pathetically as he feels his orgasm creeping up on him.

you surprise him when you lean your head down to spit onto his cock, lubricating it even more and allowing you to move faster. you really are a little demon. he wants to bend you over and fuck himself into your cunt, wants to have you leaking arousal and crying out for him. he wants you to be moaning and shaking and begging him for release, but instead it’s him on the receiving end of that. he’s going crazy.

“fuck! i’m gonna cum, keep doing that,” he urges as his hips fuck into your fist. you don’t stop him, letting him chase his orgasm until he’s spilling all over his cock and your hand. he’s groaning as he watches his seed spill onto you, imagining what it would be like to cum on your face or your tits instead. shit, what are you doing to him?

“was i good?” your eyes shine with hope as you wait for beomgyu’s answer, and he chooses to respond with a messy kiss to your lips. you’re not here to let him make you cum, but god, he wants to so bad. his brain is flooded with the image of you squirming beneath him, of defiling you and taking your virginity. he wants to dip his hand beneath your pants and feel how wet you are.

you push at his chest to separate from his kiss, eyes darting across his face curiously. this is killing him. he already feels his dick stirring back to life.

“i can show you something too, if you want,” beomgyu offers, still panting from his orgasm.

“like what? you already came.” he attaches his mouth to your neck and sucks desperately, so needy for you to stay here with him. he’s not done with you yet, you can’t leave him without giving him a taste of you. “gyu?” your voice is laced with confusion, your eyes are too when beomgyu looks up at you as he marks your chest. thank god you wore that slutty little low-cut top.

“maybe i could touch you?” he suggests, hand massaging your thigh.

“but that wouldn’t be teaching me anything,” you say, tilting your head. he kisses you again, so endeared and turned on by your innocence. he coaxes your mouth open and shoves his tongue inside, licking into your mouth and holding your face still. he wants to leave you dripping and needy, to tease you until you’re begging him for more.

he guides you down against the mattress, never disconnecting from your lips, eating up your moans and whines. his hands descend down your sides slowly, stopping when they reach your hips. he’s dying to take off your pants and dive into your cunt.

he pulls back to look at you. your lips are puffy and red, and your hair’s all disheveled around you. your eyes are glassy, and your chest heaves with how hard you’re breathing. he might cum again just from the sight.

“do you want me to touch you?” he asks, hoping you’ll say yes. if you even start to nod, beomgyu wouldn’t hesitate to tear your pants off. he needs this more than he’s ever needed anything else in his life.

you sit up suddenly, which makes beomgyu pull away in confusion. “i should go,” you say, picking up your phone from his nightstand.

“what? why?” did he do something wrong? he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he could have sworn you looked just as into it as he was.

“i have to see taehyun tonight,” you say meekly.

“oh. right.” you’re seeing taehyun. that’s why you had him teach you any of this, after all. he got too caught up in the moment.

you stand up and stare at him, swaying awkwardly in place. beomgyu thinks briefly about convincing you to stay.

“thank you,” you say, not even looking him in the eye. beomgyu’s hands itch to pull you back onto the bed. he wants to hold you down and keep you from leaving. he’d kiss you speechless until taehyun’s not even a thought in your mind anymore.

“yeah,” he says, feigning nonchalance with a simple nod. you’re walking out now, and he has to ignore the voice in his head telling him to run after you.

he collapses against his bed when he hears his door close. taehyun’s his friend, but beomgyu really hates him right now. he can’t think about you and taehyun together without seething. beomgyu doesn’t know where this is coming from—sure, he had a little crush on you some time ago, but he thought that left as soon as you two started hanging out more.

he just hopes that whatever you’re doing with taehyun isn’t better than what you did with him. he’ll be damned if he finds out that taehyun laid his hands on you tonight. he prays and prays that you miraculously stop finding interest in taehyun and leave him before anything happens between you.

what does he want then? for you to come back to him, crying about how bad you need him?

…yeah, that kind of is what he wants, honestly.

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 138

jack had your valentine's day planned out long before the day arrived. a cute little picnic out in the february sun, with all of your favorite snacks and possibly even some painting. but when the day finally arrived, you both woke up to a storm.

typical jack to not check the weather beforehand.

however, the day was far from ruined. instead, you had your picnic in jack's living room, spending the day listening to the raindrops against the windows and just enjoying each others' presence. jack eventually brought out his old photo albums from when he and his brothers were still kids – ones you had never seen before, because otherwise you would've been obsessing over them every day up until now.

"this is from luke's tenth birthday," jack said, pointing at a picture of his brother with his face stuffed full of cake. in the next one, a dalmatian was licking whipped cream off his face. "our dog, amber. not nearly as calm as you could think from just looking at her."

"she looks sweet, though," you commented, eyes flickering over another picture of amber fast asleep in jack's embrace.

"her looks betray her." jack shuffled a little closer to you on the couch, side of his head leaning against yours. "i've been thinking about getting a new one, actually."

"a dog?"

"no, a new brother." he hissed when your elbow thrust into his side. "maybe not a dalmatian specifically, but… i don't know. i've just thought about it."

the next page showed a few pictures of jack on a stage, sitting in front of a grand piano in a pretty suit. he can't have been more than 13, and your eyebrows rose at the sight. "a piano man, huh?"

he rolled his eyes. "mom forced me to take classes. i hated it at first, but then…" he shrugged. "i kept it up for five years, and it grew on me. it was kind of nice to have something else to focus on other than hockey."

you never could've guessed that he would have done something like that. jack was so sporty, a very typical jock boy – he seemed more likely to be the one making fun of the music nerds than be one himself.

even when you'd spent so much time with him, you realized that you still had so much to learn about him; so many new sides to discover, so many layers to unravel.

frightening? no, exciting.

"i remember this one time when i was fourteen… quinn and luke were at some friend's house, so i was the only child at home. and our parents were fighting." your gaze fell to his hand which was resting all lonely on his thigh, so you took it in yours. "they were, like, yelling and everything. and i couldn't do anything about it. so i just sat down at the piano at home, and… played." you could feel the shakiness in the deep breath he took, but you didn't say anything, instead settling for a squeeze of his hand. "i think i did it to drown out the sound. it was the only thing i could control."

of course. his need for stability and to always be in control was deeply rooted in him. it made so much sense being put in perspective with your relationship; he craved the stability of knowing you're there with him and he hated the way you pulled away, leaving him unsure.

"what made you quit?" you hummed after a few long moments of silence.

"hockey was getting more serious… and the guys on the team didn't really think it was cool to spend my free time learning how to play classical pieces."

"i'm sure you still remember something," you said, head resting on his shoulder. "you should play for me sometime."

"i promise." he kissed the top of your head before flipping over to the last page of the book, revealing even more pictures of little jack – this time with a big, red bruise on the side of his cheek and boxing gloves covering his hands. "oh, right. i used to box."

"oh, you were a little fighter, huh?" you joked. "how come?"

"hockey wasn't enough. i wanted to be physical off the ice, too." his tone was lighthearted, yet there was a hint of sincerity in it. "something about it made me feel… invincible, you know? knowing that i could take a hit and still stand to deliver one of my own."

"uh uh. sounds totally sane."

he reached up to flick your forehead with his fingers, before giving your hand a gentle squeeze as an apology. "i guess, as a kid, i felt… powerless? a lot of the time. especially when my parents argued. and boxing helped with that," he said, and you could feel him nodding along to his words. "once, my dad came home from a night out with a black eye, and i've never felt so useless. i wanted to be able to fight back for him. or myself. or anyone else who needs it."

you want to protect them, you thought to yourself. his protective instinct was clear as day – even in the way he couldn't not be there for you, even when you said you didn't need a relationship or someone to take care of you.

he didn't fight just to fight. he fought to protect. it was the same thing with his fight at the first game of his you attended; he punched that rangers player to protect his teammate, not because he wanted to injure him.

"my coaches told me that i had to quit once i joined the ntdp, though. it made sense, since i never thought i'd have to use it in real life," jack said with a shrug. "so i didn't argue. but, in some twisted way, boxing made me less physical on the ice. like i had an outlet, somewhere to just let it all go, so i could just skate away from arguments on the ice."

"you're a good man, jack hughes," you said, leaning slightly to the side so that you could look up at him, glistening eyes studying his features. "you know that, right?"

he paused for a few moments, merely breathing as his gaze fell on you. "i'm good because of you. you make me want to be good."

[ratwithhands]

"Mind stopping for a quick check before class?"

I've been rewatching Kill La Kill and remembered an old concept I had stored away from last year. That one got scrapped ages ago for being hard to write, so I started on a clean slate for this one. I think if submas were at Honnōji Academy, they'd either be engineering tech for the cable car system linked to the school or they'd work in the disciplinary committee to look after students.

I'm still roughing some details out for this but basically their job is to catch all the students who get absolutely bodied during the plot and run them back to the infirmary so they can come in the next day. When there aren't big fight scenes to deal with, they mostly just patrol the halls to check on students and make sure people aren't hurting each other during school hours. Consider them student health and welfare agents I suppose. They do straightforward work and were granted two star goku uniforms to make sure they had the speed and strength necessary to carry and treat students in a timely manner. Can't have an active student body if it takes weeks to get through patching them all, right?

Anyways I might design a powered up form for these guys later. It likely wouldn't be much different, but it'd be something light for them to operate in. No room for accessories when you're resetting bones and dressing up burns; I might consider having their hats swap out for masks and wide collars for lab coat lapels. It'd be fun to have their enforcement tools get turned into medical/surgical implements too, though that's gonna take some testing.

Bonus time: someone asked for oil. Do not oil them.

Have a good day.

[seitmai]

Ahh so many thoughts

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.” Steve couldn’t believe his luck. “How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question." “Understood.” Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy. And then he asked you a very grown up question.

Ahhh I love the comparison of him looking like a little boy asking a grown up question 😍

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.” “More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

🥰🥰🥰

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

Wedding gift? Have I missed something lmao?

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.” You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms. “Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

Haha fair

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.” Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy. “You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

Ahhh i can't with them

"You have a dance studio?" "You have a dance studio," he corrected.  "I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

He knew right away what he wants and went the extra mile before being sure it would work

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now.  And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

🤭🤭🤭

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

Iconic behavior of both of them hahah

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.” Steve cocked his head, grinning now. “Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

Duhh she's taking ownership

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

This is literally not putting the cart before the horse for those two 😅 after this wedding that apparently happened, her already being pregnant would not be out of the ordinary, like true to them they should already have a three year old or something, talking about unconventional 😂

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

🤭🤭🤭

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.” “How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?” Steve chuckled and then got serious. “Must be true love.”

Must be 🤷🏻‍♀️🤭

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

Thoughtful and ready to go at once

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. This was a fucking beautiful man.

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

Someone is really eager to be a dad👀

“Can’t waste a drop.” “You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.” He laughed. “Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.”

They are a perfect match 🤭 

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.” You grinned back. “I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.” You sighed. Your one regret.

Valid

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

🥹🥹🥹

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..” She laughed and you shook your head. “Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

She's like: bitch, I saw this one coming 😂

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

I'm sure the wait won't be long 🤭

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

I'm sure it was a great, much needed hug 🫶🏻

“No comment?” Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. “You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

👀👀👀

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.” His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. “That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

He is ready to spoil her rotten

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama." "Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Fair haha

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Period!

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown. “It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

I can feel Steve rolling his eyes haha

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

They are ready for the drama 😂🤭

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

Hahaha was she getting ready to throw some punches??

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.” Your cousin groaned dramatically. “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” Your voice was strong and steady. “I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?”  You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly. “You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.” You leaned in even closer. “The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” You smiled at her sweetly. “And he follows.”

The way I screamed reading this 👏🏻

🤭🤭🤭

Peach VII

Peach VI | Peach VIII

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is a mob boss trying to get clean. It’s definitely because he’s in love. With you. He's got you on his turf in NYC. Do you leave there single or a married woman?

Pairing: Art Dealer/Artist/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I have all of the words and none of the confidence. Oh I hope you like it. It may not be everyone's cup of tea. This is part one of the Valentine's weekend bundle. I hope you like it. Let me know my LOVEs! ❤️

This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in Peach VI. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Steve Rogers is rich, bitches!, the big one bling, the event! stripping, pole dancing, lap dancing, sloppy blow job, is this Subby!Steve? woman on top, nipple play (m receiving), size kink, definite breeding kink, raw p in v, a lil bit of cum play. Family feeeelings, Bucky being Bucky, Steve being a simp, jealous bitches, almost catching a case at a gala.

Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

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“If you ask me, I’m ready…”

“Is that what you want?” Steve said as his hands gripped your waist.

You couldn't look away from his eyes which were deeply searching yours.

When you moved your hand to his chest, his heart thudded through the muscle and the bone to your fingertips.

You nodded and marveled at how far you both had come in such a short amount of time.

You were sure.

“I’m not going back on what I said, Steve. If you ask me, I’m ready.”

Steve couldn’t believe his luck.

“How much is that promise worth to you, Peach? Because when I make a promise, I keep it.”

His beautiful deep velvet voice had you swooning in his arms. 

“Everything. It’s worth everything, Steve.”

It was unthinkable what you were feeling. But it was oh so right.

Steve’s look was so serious for a moment and then he kissed you again. He flipped you over, torso pinning yours down, abs between your legs. You whined with need as he kissed you, tenderly, his fingers tracing your face.

Then he pulled away.

“Get dressed, Peach.”

“What?

“Get dressed. Pack up. You’re checking out of the hotel.'

You looked at him and cocked your eyebrow.

“Oh. Am I?”

Steve chuckled at your sass. It was so cute. Then he pulled you close and whispered in your ear.

“Yes. You are. Remember I said that I was going to give you what you need, when you need it?”

You shivered at the way Steve handled you.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers.”

“Well, I need you to trust me. And I need to ask you a question."

“Understood.”

Steve kneeled at the side of the bed, those eyes focused on you. He looked like a little boy.

And then he asked you a very grown up question.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the corridor to Steve’s penthouse at the top of the Rebirth building. There were two doors on the entire hallway, both mirroring each other. 

Steve walked beside you to one of the entrances, his hand resting lightly at the small of your back, a touch both casual and possessive. 

Your mouth dropped open when the door opened on floor-to-ceiling windows framing the Manhattan skyline. 

The view went on forever.

"Jesus, Steve. This is… Beautiful!"

Your eyes shone as you turned in a circle to take in the room.

"Wait until you see the rest."

You were wandering now, your fingertips trailing over the sleek countertops, the rich leather of his couch, and the curated artwork lining the walls. Everything about the space was sophisticated, masculine, Steve.

You wondered how you could lend your touch.

Steve had gone into another room, his bedroom, you imagined, to put your things down. He came up behind you as you stared out of the window, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He kissed your neck as you leaned your head back on his chest.

“This place is… it’s amazing, Steve. I can’t believe we just did that.”

“More amazing now that you’re here. And you better believe it.”

“I have something for you…a wedding gift”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, bringing it in front of you. 

The diamonds on your hand glittered and caught your eye as you reached to touch what was inside. It was a necklace with double diamond solitaires, one cushion cut and one pear shaped, nestled side by side on a thin, gleaming chain.

A moi et toi design.

To match your ring.

You blinked up at him, craning your neck to look him in the eye. He pecked you on the lips.

“Steve…”

He reached out, and plucked the necklace from the box. His fingers brushed the nape of your neck as he draped it around you.

“Moi et toi,” he murmured near your ear. “Me and you.”

You swallowed, your fingers rising to touch the stones on your skin as you gazed out on the city. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Two stones side by side; one strengthens the other.” 

His thumb brushed over your collarbone, tracing the edge of the necklace. 

“That’s what we are. It’s what you do for me. Make me want to be a better man.”

You exhaled, your lips parting slightly as you turned around in his arms.

“Steve. You are a good man. You’re just doing things in a slightly unconventional way. You’re talking to the queen of unconventional. Remember where we met?”

There you were, being adorable again. The way you’d fought him up until this week made Steve stand in disbelief at how accepting you were of him. And how easily you’d run off with him to Connecticut tonight to become his wife. 

It was crazy, but it was so right.

“I do. I seem to recall meeting you in heaven, because all I remember thinking is ‘who is this angel.’”  

You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“You’ve been hanging around Bucky too long.”

Steve chuckled, tilting your chin up with a knuckle. He was happy.

“You’re right. But anyway, the necklace is for tomorrow, I mean the Gala tonight. Something to remind you that no matter who else is in the room... you’re my wife."

You swallowed at the octave drop in Steve’s voice and he traced your throat with his thumb as you did it. Steve gathered you to him, pressing his lips to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered into your ear.

“Come with me, there’s something else I want to show you. " 

He grabbed your hand and led you down a hallway. 

You followed until he stopped and turned to you with a mischievous grin. Then, he opened the door behind his back and backed in so he could watch your face. Curious, you followed him inside. 

Then you froze. 

It was a good sized space. Mirrors lined one entire wall, reflecting the soft glow of LED track lighting. You stepped out on the wood floor and realized that it was made from premium materials.

But what really caught your attention was the sleek, stainless-steel pole standing tall in the center of the room. You turned slowly, meeting Steve's expectant gaze. 

"You have a dance studio?" 

"You have a dance studio," he corrected. 

"I arranged for it to be started while we were in Hilton Head and it was just finished yesterday. I wanted you to have a place to move. To feel free while you’re in Brooklyn."

You went to the pole and grabbed it and leaned out, checking it. It was sturdy and conditioned. You twirled a little and came to rest, the pole between the ass cheeks of your leggings. 

Steve’s look became hungry, and his cock jumped in his sweats. If he was thinking of sleep earlier, he was wide awake now. 

And some parts of him were more awake than others. 

“So… you had a dance studio built, for me, while we were in Hilton Head? Me, a woman who was threatening your life?”

The way you smiled at him made Steve’s heart flutter. He nodded and came close and tried to kiss you, but you twirled away from him to the other side of the pole. He flashed you a smile and your butterflies started up again.

“It was right after you threatened to shoot my balls off. I knew you had it bad.”

Steve sighed as if he was nostalgic for your death threats. You laughed as Steve grabbed for you again.

You scooted away from him.

“Don’t touch, Mr. Rogers,” you admonished as your finger wagged in front of those lips. 

Then you pointed, and Steve followed your hand as if mesmerized. He was the one who had it bad.

“Why don’t you sit down so I can test this thing out? Haven’t had a proper dance workout all week.”

Steve nodded and went to sit down on the chaise lounge in the corner of the room.

You stepped forward, and your pulse quickened as you held Steve’s gaze. He leaned back against the back of the chaise, arms crossed over his broad chest, and his t-shirt straining across his shoulders, biceps, and chest.

His blue eyes were focused with an intensity that sent a shiver through your body.

"Music?" you prompted. 

Steve smirked and tapped his phone. A pulsating beat filled the room, the bass vibrating beneath your feet, and causing your hips to sway. You didn’t have your heels and you were in loungewear, but one of those things was to your advantage.

You grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt, teasing a glimpse of your skin as you swayed to the music.

Steve’s eyes darkened and his breath visibly slowed.

You took your time, dragging the cotton up your body as you shimmied, baring the skin of your stomach, then your bra, then your collarbones as your head was hidden for half a second.

You winked when you emerged and you moved closer as you leaned over him and placed your garment on the lounge next to him.

Steve didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But his jaw clenched, and you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his sides.

Then, you turned around, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of your leggings and looked over your shoulder to find him staring at your ass and licking his lips. Steve looked up at you, his blue eyes burning now as you smirked at him and peeled the black material down to reveal your flesh, in black lace, bent fully at the waist. 

Steve’s hands twitched for want of reaching out. He exhaled sharply, restraint hanging by a thread.

You straightened up slowly, twerking and slapping your own ass, holding a cheek so that he could see the lace-clothed split of you. You shot him a saucy wink as you stepped out of your clothing, pushing it aside with the tip of your toe before slowly running your hands down your body. 

You brought your hands up to your face, sliding them down your neck to your chest, then your sides, letting your fingers skim over your ribs, down your stomach, then back up, skirting along your bra and pulling your nipples through the fabric. 

Steve made a low sound in his throat, his control cracking.

It was just as he decided to reach out to touch you that you walked toward the pole on tip toes, the only way you knew how to do it. 

“No touching unless I give permission. That’s the rule in Peach’s Parlor.”

Steve cocked his head, grinning now.

“Peach’s Parlor? So you like it? You taking ownership of the place?”

He was proud that you seemed pleased. You smiled back at him in response, exhaling and letting the rhythm take you.

You started with a slow walk around the pole, each step deliberate, your hips swaying just enough to raise the temperature of his blood degree by degree. 

His smile dropped and his jaw tightened, but he didn’t move, his restraint evident in every rigid line of his body as his eyes followed your every move

You reached up, gripping the pole above your head, then lifted yourself effortlessly, letting momentum carry you into a slow spin. The world blurred for a moment, the mirrors reflecting your every movement as you let your legs extend, toes pointed, body fluid. 

The way you moved was unhurried, deliberate, and so alluring. Steve sighed and bent his head to the side, taking you in. Then he bit his lip, remembering how you felt around him earlier. You felt so fucking good, your sweet, hot pussy pulsing around him.

He was putting the cart before the horse, but he wanted to be your baby daddy so bad. He head was in the clouds as you hooked one leg around the pole, arching your back as you slid downward in a controlled descent, your body moving with the music, sensual and confident. 

The way your muscles flexed and relaxed, the roll of your hips was mesmerizingly beautiful. You were performing your art for Steve, moving for his pleasure. 

But you were in control. 

And it made Steve remember that this is what it was that made him fall for you in the first place. Damn, he wanted you, and even though you were only steps away, it was driving him crazy. 

When you reached the floor, you dropped to your knees, your thighs spread, fingers skimming down your skin as you stared at him.

Steve rubbed his hands on his pants to ease the itch of his fingers wanting to grasp you.

You stood and grabbed the pole once more, swinging around in another smooth, effortless climb. You wrapped your legs around the metal, suspended for a moment, before twisting into an elegant descent, your body brushing against the pole in a way that made Steve’s balls ache.

When you landed, you moved toward him on tiptoe again, all legs and glistening body, hips swaying, eyes locked onto his.

Steve only moved to put his hands on the back of the lounge, but other than that he was still.

In a graceful move, you straddled him carefully, knees on either side of his slim hips. You were close enough for him to feel your warmth, but were barely touching him. The heat coming from your core made him feral and his eyes were drawn downward to the source.

You felt a tremendous power, so you reached for his chin and tilted it up so he could look into your eyes. 

Steve almost got lost there, but when you whispered, “Good boy,” he forgot how to breathe. He didn't know he liked that. but the fact that you'd guessed it made you even more perfect for him. 

He covered a whimper by clearing his throat. A secret smile was on your lips as you slowly rolled your hips and arched your back, your nipples barely grazing his chest. 

Steve's eyes were everywhere, watching everything, especially your tits, which were so hard and beautiful through the lace.

He felt like if he could just to suck them for a minute, everything in the world would be alright.

A minute each. 

Maybe an hour.

Steve's breath was hot against your skin, but he still hadn’t touched you. His grip on the chaise tightened, his control hanging by a thread.

You ran your fingers down your body before leaning backward and grazing his thighs and it was just enough to plan out the pattern of his skeet along your skin. He was sure, with practice, he could spell out his name.

In one fluid movement, you turned around, pressing your back to his chest, and, lightly, so lightly, too lightly, ground against his rigid cock with slow, deliberate precision.

Steve felt delirious and close to expiring.

“Fuck, Peach… You trying to kill me?” Steve murmured, his voice low and rough. “We just got married.”

Married!

You looked over your shoulder at him and moved your lips close to his, smiling as you saw the muscles in his corded neck tense.  You leaned in, your lips hovering near his ear.

“You're so good for me Stevie… Such a good... big... boy.”

You twerked the last three words in his lap, causing him to exhale sharply and his hands to twitch. You arched, rolling your body against his again. 

And then.

Finally, finally, you let yourself sink into his lap, pressing fully against his cock. He could feel your moist pussy lips through layers of fabric.

And that’s when Steve’s restraint snapped.

His hands shot to your waist, gripping hard, his fingers digging into your skin. You leaned back and his lips found your shoulder, his breath uneven.

You smirked and turned around, dragging your nails lightly down his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer beneath your touch.

Steve crashed his mouth to yours, swallowing your laughter in a kiss that was deep and desperate. His hands roamed your body, tracing lace, his need evident in every touch.

“My sweet Peach. Mrs. Rogers,” he growled against your skin, voice thick with hunger.

You reached up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make his head tilt back.

“Yesss. Say Heyyyy, Mrs. Rogers…,” you teased.

One hand clasped his throat, squeezing his Adam's apple lightly as his blue eyes shone from his slitted lids. Steve's cock pulsed in his pants, then he took a ragged breath before he spoke.

“Heyyyyyy. Mrs. Rogers...”

You rolled your hips against his impressive bulge as Steve’s baritone rumbled in your ear. As you reached for the hem of his shirt, he kissed you, grabbing the collar to take it off.

You looked at Steve appreciatively as you bent and licked one erect nipple, then wrapped your lips around the tiny button, pulling it into your mouth and eliciting a small groan from him. You took your time, enjoying his sounds which got louder and louder.

"Such a good boy making those pretty sounds for me, Stevie."

You licked, sucked and savored him as you alternated from one pec to the other.

“Wanna always be good for you, Peach...” 

Steve gritted it out as you grabbed him by the hair, pulling him into a filthy, long, deep kiss. He grabbed for you and held on as your mouth plundered his.

Then you pulled away.

“I have a question, Mr. Rogers,” you unclasped your bra, then leaned forward and stuffed your nipple into his mouth, moaning as he looked up at you with those clear blue eyes and sucked enthusiastically.

“How is it you married me, and I hadn’t even sucked your cock yet?”

Steve chuckled and then got serious.

“Must be true love.”

You felt his cock pound between your legs and knew what had to happen. His fingernails scratched your thighs trying to hold on to you as you moved back to stand.

When he saw that you were going to kneel, he quickly moved a pillow from the chaise for you to settle in front of him. He then lifted his hips from the couch and pulled down his sweats and boxers in one move.

His erection sprung out and you licked your lips, ready to finally feel the smooth skin in your mouth.

"Touch yourself for me, Stevie."

Steve took himself in hand and started stroking from base to head, thumb swiping the drops of precum in passing. His burning gaze was on you but your eyes were glued to what was in his fist. 

“Fuck that’s hot… Wan’ taste you,” you were whining now, feeling deprived. 

“..Whatever you want.” Steve whispered in a strained voice after looking into those big, beautiful eyes.  

You ran your fingers over his thick dick all the way down to the heavy, tight balls. 

“So pretty…” 

You kept eye contact as you leaned in and gave him a long, wet lick from balls to head. Your tongue rolled over the soft skin of the large mushroom cap, taking in the dewey drops leaking from it.

You licked down the hard shaft, until you reached the base and ran your tongue over his large sac.

You began sucking on his tip, tonguing underneath, and humming around his head, causing Steve to murmur, “Fffeels so fucking good, Peach.”

He was carding his fingers through your hair as he said it.

Inspired, you took him as far as you could, until your lips were stretched to the limit and tears coursed down your face. You inhaled the musky scent of him in the hair at the base of his cock and looked back up to watch his contracting abs and heaving chest, his open mouth and those mesmerizing eyes. 

This was a fucking beautiful man.

Steve’s big hands gathered your hair and held it, just tight enough to send a zing to your clit. 

“Peachhhhh, that mouth is good.”

Steve was in love with how you sucked him off. He rolled his hips and found out just how snug your throat really was. When you pulled off, tears were rolling down your face.

He wiped your tears away with his thumb. 

"Y' look so fucking pretty like this, Peach.”

The way you took him all when you deep throated him again sent the cum crawling up his balls. 

“Fuckfuckfuck. Shit.”

You pulled off and released him with a filthy plop, watching as he desperately squeezed his cock at the base, trying to stop the impending explosion.

He reached out for you with his other hand and you climbed up onto his lap as he marveled at your messy hair, your bouncing tits, and fucked out expression.

“You’re a fucking goddess. Wanna cum down your throat, Peach, but don’t swallow our kids. Need ‘em inside you.”

The tip of his cock nudged your entrance, and you reached down and grabbed it, perfecting its position as you sank down on it.

You both watched in fascination as your pussy engulfed him preceded by the juices from your wet pussy. Steve’s hands grabbed onto your hips, and you wanted him to bruise you, to have a mark on you from this for days. 

Your head lolled back on your shoulders as you glided down on your Steve's, thick cock. He lifted you by your waist and alternated fucking you up and down his dick and thrusting into you, hitting angles he hadn't before.

His grunts and your moans were beautiful music.

“Please look at me, Peach.”

His tone was reverent and you couldn't help but obey. The sounds you two were making sent you right to the edge of a precipice.

“Oh… right…there… right fucking there!”

You keened as you scratched the skin on his shoulders and biceps. 

“Fucking me so good, Stevie…So righttt. N-need you to keep hitting it like that…give it to me just like that. All your cum. Inside me.”

He was hitting those bundles of nerves just right.

“You need it like that hunh? I'll give it to you until it drips out of you... Need it dripping down my gotdamn balls....”

And he proceeded to fuck up into you perfectly. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his hair and you leaned in for a filthy kiss. He gripped your throat and carefully squeezed to control your airflow. Your eyes began to roll and your cunt clenched down on him. Hard.

"Ffuckk, " He had to grit his teeth to keep from cumming. "Need you to fucking cum, Peach....."

“I- I’m close Stevieeee. Ahhh. Give it. Gonna have all your babies….”

Your pussy started clenching around him.

“Holy FUCK!”

Steve picked you up and placed you on the chaise, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he drilled into you. He slid a hand between you and rubbed your clit in soul-destroying circles.

“Drain these fucking balls...shhhhhitttttt!"

You clutched him close as you felt his cock start and continue to spurt hot cum inside you. As he softened, he sat back on his heels and spread your legs to watch his cum drip out of you. He trailed two fingertips down your sensitive slit and pushed it back inside you, all the while a sly grin on his face.

He caught your eye. 

“Can’t waste a drop.”

“You are filthy slut, Mr. Rogers.”

He laughed. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Rogers.” 

Steve grabbed his t-shirt to clean you both up a bit. Next thing you knew, you were being carried out of the studio and through to his master bedroom 

It was daylight when you were lightly snoring in his arms and Steve was grinning wide, his wife in his arms.

—

The next afternoon, you sat in front of the vanity in Bucky’s penthouse as the hired glam team worked around you and your cousin. The stylist meticulously worked with your hair while the makeup artist added the final sweep of highlighter across her cheekbones.

The two of you had been getting ready together for years, first as teenagers sneaking into her mother’s closet, and now as women preparing for an extravagant event in a high-rise overlooking Manhattan. But this afternoon was different.

Her eyes met yours in the mirror. You had just her the rundown of the day before, complete with the news that you and Steve were married. She’d been quiet for a while, but now it seemed she was ready to talk again.

“You’re really happy, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice soft but certain.

You blinked, then exhaled.

“Yes I am.”

“You and Steve are perfect for each other. "

She leaned over and grabbed your hand, grinning at you.

"This isn’t a race. I’m never gonna be jealous of you, girl.”

You grinned back.

“I’m pissed that I wasn’t able to be there, though.”

You sighed. Your one regret.

“I know. But it was perfect. Just the two of us. We’ll have a party later on, though. And tonight, we’ll celebrate.”

You turned thoughtful.

“The way Steve loves me should terrify me. But it doesn’t.”

She studied you for a moment. 

“Because?”

“Because when I’m with him, it makes sense. The way he looks at me, the way he is with me—it doesn’t feel rushed. It just feels… right.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Your cousin smiled, tilting her head as the hairstylist and makeup artist switched and her hair was being fussed over. 

“I know you think that I feel some kind of way, but I know you girl. I was shocked, but not surprised..”

She laughed and you shook your head.

“Running off and getting married is so you. It’s so Steve too when you think about it.”

You took a sip of the mimosa that Bucky had brought in earlier. You thought what was about to happen for your cousin.

“Real talk. Bucky adores you, Cousin. And I know you. And I’m getting to know Bucky. This engagement and wedding are going to be events. Events, I say. You wouldn’t have it any other way. .You’re about to get some bling to match that jewelry you got on tonight in Vermont next week.” 

You two laughed together, the mood lighter now. 

“You’re right,” she replied. I’m secure. It will happen. And just at the right time for us. And no matter what, Peach. You are never gonna lose me as your biggest fan, no matter what.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too, cousin.”

You hugged each other so hard, the stylists had to touch you back up.

As you finished up, the sound of deep voices and approaching footsteps echoed from the hallway. The door opened, and Bucky stepped in first, his navy tuxedo perfectly tailored, his gaze immediately softening when he saw your cousin. 

“Damn Frumoasă,” he murmured, taking her in with slow appreciation. 

“You’re making it real hard for me to let you out of this apartment tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“Smooth, Barnes,” she smirked at him. “Nice suit.”

“What? This old thing?”

Bucky smirked back as he took her hand and led her out of the room.

You rolled your eyes at them because you had the feeling they were being freaky, you just couldn’t prove it.

Steve walked in, ensconced in an impressively tailored dark tux, his presence commanding as always, but the moment his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted. 

You were wearing a short gold sequined gown that showcased your legs, and you felt like a princess. 

Like a wife.

His usual air of control wavered for a fraction of a second, his gaze dragging over you like he was memorizing every inch.

You arched that adorable brow at him, tilting your head. 

“No comment?”

Steve exhaled, stepping closer, his voice rough around the edges. 

“You already know, Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky chuckled, clapping Steve on the shoulder. 

“Think you broke him, Peach. Congratulations, Mrs. Rogers.”

You grinned, gave Bucky a hug and reached for your clutch. 

Steve reached out, his fingers grazing your wrist as he murmured, “Hold on.”

You frowned slightly, watching as Bucky guided your cousin toward the door, leaving just the two of you in the room. Steve reached into his pocket, pulling out another small black velvet box.

Your breath caught, your heart skipping for just a second.

He popped the top, revealing a pair of dazzling double diamond drop earrings, the perfect complement to the moi et toi necklace resting against your collarbone and the ring on your finger. All you could do was look at them and then blink up at him.

“Steve…”

He smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. 

“Thought you should match.”

You shook your head and laughed.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Steve lifted an earring, stepping close to help fasten it in place and his touch lingered.

“You say that now,” he murmured and then moved to the other side, his lips just a breath away from your skin.

“But you love it.”

You turned into his arms and looked into his eyes.

“You know if you keep giving me gifts like this, you’re going to spoil me.”

His eyes darkened, and his hand came to rest on your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress. 

“That’s the plan,” he murmured, voice low, “Mrs. Rogers.”

Bucky cleared his throat from the doorway, breaking the moment. He was leaning against the frame, smirking. 

“Hate to interrupt, but Nico’s waiting. Unless you two want to skip the gala entirely.”

You rolled your eyes at the dark headed man and flipped him off.

"You're going to get enough of watching us like a drama."

"Never. You two are my favorite romcom."

Steve exhaled through his nose, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he kissed your neck, producing a shiver. Then, lacing his fingers with yours, he led you toward the door.

—

The way the night was going seemed like a dream, arriving on Steve’s arm and watching the reactions. Some were surprised, but most just commented that you were such a handsome couple and gave congratulations.

Sharon was clearly not happy, but fuck that bitch.

Steve hadn’t given her, or anyone else that matter, a second glance.

When the music started, Steve danced with you to all the tempos, even the Salsa when that genre was played. You had a time, and then you two went to the bar to get refreshments.

Sharon chose that moment to show her ass. You barely had a sip of your amaretto sour before she started on her bullshit.

“Steve,” she purred, looking up at him under her lashes and placing her hand on his forearm. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

Steve tactfully removed his arm from her grasp while the fingers on his other hand reached for you and rested low on your back, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle against the sequined fabric of your gown.

“It’s been two days, Sharon,” he replied, his tone clipped. And annoyed.

Your cousin and Bucky moved closer, probably because she clocked what was going on.

Sharon ignored Steve’s tone and turned to you. 

“And you must be the entertainment. Nice dress. Is it easy to take off?”

The words sounded sweet as honey, but you heard the venom underneath. 

“I guess congratulations are in order? I hear you two ran off and got married. I guess that's a choice. It’s probably refreshing, going from someone like Peggy to someone like…Peaches..”

“It’s Peach,” you replied. 

The bitch was silent.

Sharon’s gaze flicked to your ring, then your jewelry, then down the length of your gown. 

“Although you do wear luxury well. Tell me, how does it feel knowing it’s all borrowed? That he’s probably going to dump you tomorrow. Get an annulment and leave your ass in the gutter strip club where he found you.”

You could feel the heat of Steve’s fury at your side, his body tensing like he was about to snap.

Your mouth opened to reply, but your cousin stepped up, anger rolling off of her body.

“You know what’s really refreshing, Sharon? Watching a woman who wants to fuck around with me and my family and find out.”

She lowered her voice.

“And like a cable, we jump hoes.”

The air around you shifted, and a few party-goers slowed their conversations to listen.

Bucky stepped forward as Sharon’s jaw twitched into a twisted smile. Bucky whispered in your cousin's ear. She glared at him and started taking off her jewelry, handing her earrings to him. Bucky shook his head and pulled her to the side while she gave him the business.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that in a negative way.” Sharon simpered. “It’s just the truth.”

Sharon looked between you and Steve.

“You are nothing but negative. You don’t have to worry about my marriage. Or your endowment anymore, Sharon.”

Steve spoke to her, his eyes blazing blue.

You smiled at your man, then took a slow step forward, closing the space between you, lowering your voice just enough that only Sharon, and Steve, could hear.

“Do you think calling me a stripper is an insult?” 

Your voice was strong and steady.

“I own what I do. I’m damn good at what I do. And you?” 

You looked her up and down, eyebrow deadly.

“You’re standing here, burning because even with your family ties, and your desperate little designer dress, the only woman Steve wants is me. He married me.”

You leaned in even closer.

“The difference between us? I don’t have to chase him. I just have to walk into a room.” 

You smiled at her sweetly.

“And he follows.”

The moment the words left your lips, Steve did exactly that. 

As he left her in her feelings,  Steve tossed a comment over his shoulder.

“You just got your ass handed to you in front of half the room,” he mused. 

“I’d cut my losses and walk away.”

One of the staffers turned up at that moment. 

“This way, Ms. Carter. I’ll be escorting you out.”

The four of you watched as she turned red and huffed and puffed on her way out of the door. After everyone around you went back to minding their own business, your cousin hugged you hard.

“I love you. That was perfection.”

You hugged her back. 

“Thank you, Boo.”

You released her as Bucky handed her earrings back and Steve looked at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“You handled that well.”

You smirked. “I know.”

Steve pulled you into his arms and kissed your forehead, not bothering to lower his voice when he said, “I’ll remind you how much I love that later.”

Your cousin groaned dramatically.

 “You two are disgustingly perfect for each other.”

Bucky grabbed a bottle of Moet from the table display.

“A toast. To Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers!”

Your husband looked at you with a smile. You don’t know what was coming your way as Steve's wife, but you knew it wouldn’t be boring.

[harmonic-intervention]

It's a long way back to you

"I need you to be brave one more time. And come back to me."

And we're back with the fix-its. I've been writing on four different WIPs - that's why it's taking me so long to finish a single one. But here we go.

Word count: 15,170 - getting back together, near death experiences, coma, it's tommy's turn to see how he affected people

Excerpt:

Tommy woke up in utter comfort. The room was dark, the there was a mountain of pillows around him, and there was not a single ache to be felt in his body. He took a deep breath and let it out, content to just lie there and doze a bit. Until Odin would come to remind him of his feeding time, that was.

He closed his eyes, not bothering to try and check the time. His brain was a little foggy, still, and if there was no alarm set, that meant Tommy had a late shift. He could sleep in a little bit, or at least relax until the day officially started with the screams of his beloved cat.

Only he realized, at some point, that enough time must have passed. Odin should be scratching at the door like a lunatic. He’d stopped doing it with claws out, but he had found the right amount of pressure to make a truly awful sound against the wood that grated on Tommy’s nerves enough to chase him out of bed in record time.

With a furrowed brow, Tommy threw the covers off and moved into an upright position. He fumbled around for the light on his nightstand, and that was where things started being strange. Well, stranger than his little cat buddy missing the opportunity to scream at him.

He couldn’t find the switch for his lamp. He felt along the cord, but it was nowhere to be found. He furrowed his brow. He was pretty sure switches couldn’t just disappear, but no matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t find it. Finally, he fumbled around for his phone to use the light from the lock screen. The lamp was different. It didn’t have a switch on the cord, but a little string to pull on.

What the hell?

Tommy turned off his phone without taking a look on the screen. He pulled on the string, and light illuminated the room, and Tommy quickly took notice of all the other things that made absolutely no sense at all.

This wasn’t his room. This wasn’t his furniture. The closet was gone, replaced by a sliding door. The door and the window had switched sides. Speaking of the window, there were still blackout blinds on it, but it was much larger than the one he was used to. On the other side, in a corner, was another door. Maybe a bathroom? Tommy’s room definitely didn’t have a bathroom connected.

What was going on?

He tried to remember what he’d done the night before, but he came up blank. He’d been- he’d been at home, right? Had he gotten black-out drunk and gone home with someone? But- no, he wouldn’t do that, because Odin needed to be fed. Even at his drunkest, Tommy always remembered that he had to get home and feed Odin.

He got up, realizing that he was dressed in his usual sleepwear – sweatpants and a sleeveless top. Something wasn’t right. As soon as he stood up, his head felt worse, foggier and heavier than before.

With a deep breath, took a step forward, and when he didn’t immediately collapse, he kept at it, opening the door. He half expected someone to jump him as soon as he stepped out, but nothing happened. He looked around the hallway, but there was nothing that sparked a moment of recognition.

He decided to walk down the hall to where he could see the top of a staircase, and went down with quiet steps. When he was a child, he’d perfected a near silent gait when that became one of the things that kept him from getting the shit kicked out of him.

Downstairs, he wondered if he should just make a break for it and get to the front door and out of this house before whoever lived here found him, but just as that thought crossed his mind, he heard a little meow from the floor and he felt two small paws standing on the back of his foot.

He looked down, a smile already on his face, and it only brightened at the sight of a cute little calico rubbing her head against his shin. He lowered himself down and offered his hand which she accepted readily, nuzzling into the palm of his hand.

“Hi there,” he murmured. “Who’re you?”

She purred in reply, and he was about to right himself up when a voice spoke from close-by, a voice he knew too well and loved too much for what happened, and he almost jumped right of his skin.

“Morning, honey.”

[continue on ao3]

[dustisus]

og trilogy things that might come up in tgr

idk am rereading the og trilogy and here are some things that could be relevant in tgr maybe. just as a reminder ig. (i don't have exact quotes or page numbers for tkm bc i listened to the audiobook so they are paraphrased but for tfc and trk the quotes are word-for-word). ordered by theme, my comments at the end of each theme

Fans (of the Ravens)

"[Kevin and Riko's] unconventional childhood led many to worry about their psychological well-being but also fueled a rabid obsession with the pair." tfc p20

"Riko's freaky fans" (said by Nicky) trk p75

The whole Kathy interview + "The only look in [Riko's] eyes was murder." tfc p219

Comments: We know fans of the Ravens can be obsessive and extreme, but we also know that even before more questions were raised about conditions in the Nest, people were concerned about the psychological wellbeing of Kevin and Riko. We also know that Riko has been on TV looking murderous, long before the finals, which was the last straw. I think people might start looking into Riko when they start looking into the Nest and start realizing he was never okay/normal/whatever.

Jean

"'Fun is for children,' Jean said" trk p91

"It'd barely left his net before Jean checked [Kevin] hard enough to knock him over." trk p144

"'A dog who bites his masters hand deserves to be slaughtered. The location and audience are inconsequential.'" (said by Riko) trk p282

TKM, loosely quoted. Wymack about Jean and Kevin: There's too much between them, good and bad and ugly, for them to ever make things right.

Comments: Just a few pickings. I hope Jean changes his mind about fun, though he may not find Exy fun. We know Jean can check Kevin to the ground, hope that comes up again. I sure hope that thing about the dog biting the master's hand doesn't come up again, but with all the starved dog imagery I think it's inevitable. For the final one; yeah as I reread the og trilogy I'm losing more and more hope about Jean and Kevin reconnecting. I think they may just need to heal separately.

Jeremy

Mentioned in TKM: Jeremy has a "toothy smile".

Comments: This was mentioned no less than 3 times, so it must be important. If you only remember 1 thing from this post, it should be this.

The Trojans

TKM, loosely quoted: The Trojans had never been caught by cameras saying something rude about an opponent.

Comments: But that could change? Place your bets now on who's caught shit-talking the Ravens.

Kevin

TKM, loosely quoted: Kevin looked contented just to be standing on the Trojans' court. [...] Kevin gave Jeremy one of his rare real smiles.

"I don't have perfect control over Andrew, but Kevin owes us his life and I can get to Andrew through him." (said by Wymack) tfc p53

"Kevin needs someone who can keep up with and challenge him. Fortunately she is also a Raven alumnus, so she knows the repercussions of getting caught with Kevin. Maybe they'll have more luck after we've settled things with the Ravens this year.'" (Renee about Thea) trk p181

TKM, loosely quoted, Neil and Wymack speaking: N: You don't think Kevin will tell Thea the whole truth? W: Unlikely. He won't put her at risk like that.

TKM, loosely quoted: "I know what he's like" [...] "Riko. If you want to talk" Kevin was known for his talent, not his sensitivity. Consideration and tact were foreign to him. That he tried at all was so unexpected it felt like a balm.

Comments: Kevin's so sweet to be happy just to be on the Trojan's court. I hope he gets to be happy for a bit in California, even if the interview goes to shit. "Kevin owes us his life" uhhhh I hope Jean doesn't inherit that mindset. I think if we do get more Thea interactions, it will make more sense why she and Kevin are together, even though Kevin may not be entirely honest with her. Will be interesting to see how long they remain unofficial. Also Kevin can show sensitivity! I hope he gets to in TGR.

The Ravens

"This was a dark and heavy tune, an intimidating message of death and domination. The Ravens took their image seriously. Neil guessed they had a lot of intensive counseling in their futures." trk 142

TKM, loosely quoted, during Thea appearance: It made Neil wonder how the Ravens fared after they left the Nest's hivemind. Maybe it took years to recover. Maybe they never did. Maybe they broke and carried pieces of Evermore with them the rest of their lives.

Comments: You know it, Neil! None of this bodes well, for any of the ex-Ravens. But I think that when TSC3 is over, Kevin and Thea might be the ones carrying the broken pieces of Evermore. Jean probably too but I think he will have healed better. But idk.

--

hope this massive post interested you! (tell me if there are any typos) a week til tgr. wow. kevin voice: we're all going to die. yeah feel free to add anything or come with theories in the notes.

[hiramaris]

I can’t read you but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine.

SPECIAL CHAPTER

Chapter Summary:

You have a plan. Check the farm. Leave. Simple. You make it about three steps before stopping again. Your gaze drifts back toward her. She’s smiling softly at the photo she just took, adjusting the camera settings before raising it again. Cute. And the plan? Crumpled. Burnt. Gone. With a sigh, you trudge toward the farm, muttering under your breath, “Looks like I’m going to live on a farm after all.”

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

Disclaimer:  I do not own Stardew Valley or any of the related characters. Stardew Valley is created by and owned by ConcernedApe. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Stardew Valley story belong to ConcernedApe.

Warning: None. Just a useless lesbian.

Notes:

Ever wonder what the farmer's perspective is about all these? And how you seemed to be there whenever Haley needed you to be. That's just a plain ol' coincidence, right? Right? Well, worry no more, 'cause you're about to find out.

Spring 1

You arrived in Pelican Town with nothing but your suitcase and the stiff suit clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The tie at your throat feels like a noose, and the weight of city life still lingers on your shoulders.

You're far too overdressed for this place. If a crowd existed, you'd stick out like a sore thumb.

The bus sputters off behind you, kicking up a cloud of dust that lingers in the crisp morning air. You watch it disappear down the road, leaving nothing but silence in its wake. No honking cars, no distant chatter, no hum of neon lights. Just birdsong, the whisper of the wind through the trees, and the faint scent of damp earth.

The quiet is unsettling.

Before you can fully process the sheer stillness of the valley, a voice had cut through the air.

"Ah, there you are, Y/N! Welcome to Pelican Town."

An older man—short, with a thick mustache—approached you with an easygoing grin.

"It’s good to finally meet you. I’m Mayor Lewis," he said as he adjust his hat. "I used to be good friends with your grandfather. You probably don’t remember me, but we met once when you were little."

You don’t remember, but you nodded anyway.

Beside him, a woman with fiery red hair pulled into a loose ponytail grinned at you. She held a clipboard under one arm, boots tapping against the dirt road as she sized you up.

"And I’m Robin, the local carpenter," she greeted. "I’ve been fixing up your grandpa’s old place for you. It needed… well, let’s just say a lot of work."

She smirked, and you get the feeling she's holding back from saying something worse.

You shifted your grip on your suitcase. "I appreciate it, but—"

Robin gestured down the road before you can finish. "Come on, let’s head to the mayor’s manor first. Your farm’s just down that path"—she nodded toward a dirt trail on your right—"but the Mayor wanted to talk to you first."

Lewis nodded. "I need to go over a few things with you before I send you off. Won’t take long, promise."

You hesitated but fall into step beside them, your dress shoes crunching against the gravel road. The manor is just down the road, tucked neatly near the town square. Luckily, it's still early. The streets are empty, the town barely waking up. The houses lining the path are quaint, with colorful wooden signs swinging gently in the breeze.

You aren’t sure if it’s the morning chill or something else entirely, but the weight in your chest feels heavier with every step.

Lewis lead you up the short stone steps of the manor and gestures for you to step inside. The air inside is warm, filled with the scent of wood polish and something faintly herbal—tea, maybe. The walls are lined with old photographs, shelves packed with neatly organized town records. It's a lived-in space, one that feels much too welcoming for someone like you.

"Have a seat," Lewis said, motioning toward a wooden chair in front of his desk. He lowered himself into his own chair with a sigh, then rummaged through a drawer before producing a rusty key.

"Here’s the key to your farmhouse," he slid it toward you. "It’s a little run-down, but with some work, you’ll have it back in shape in no time."

You picked up the key, turning it over in your palm. It's cold, the metal worn with age.

Robin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "I already stopped by to check the place out—patched up a few things, cleared some of the worst debris." She tilted her head with a teasing smile. "Figured you'd appreciate not falling through the floor on your first night."

You're not sure what to say to that.

Instead, you nodded, offering a polite, "Thanks."

Lewis pulled out a large map and flattened it on the desk in front of you. "Now, Pelican Town isn’t a big place, but you’ll want to familiarize yourself with it. We have a small, tight-knit community here. It’d be good for you to meet the townsfolk." He tapped a few locations on the map. "The general store, the saloon, the blacksmith—these are the places you’ll be visiting the most."

You glanced at the map, taking in the layout of the town. Everything looks so… open. Unlike the structured, rigid grids of the city.

Lewis leaned back in his chair. "I know this is probably a big change for you," he said, his tone softer now. "But we’re glad to have you here. Your grandfather was well-loved in this town."

Your throat tightens at that. You don’t answer.

Instead, you slide the map toward yourself and fold it neatly. "Right," you said, standing. "I should get going. Thank you."

Lewis nodded, rising to his feet as well. "Of course. I won’t keep you."

Robin pushed herself off the doorframe, stretching her arms. "I’ll check in later to see how you’re settling in. Try not to break anything before then."

You’re not sure if she’s joking.

Lewis walked you to the door, and as you step outside, the morning air feels cooler against your skin. The manor may have been warm, but this place still isn’t home.

You glanced at the map in your hand, then at the road ahead.

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

And yet, instead of heading straight there, you decide to take a detour.

The town feels too small, the air too clean, the people too… friendly.

You aren't in the mood for conversation, so instead of taking the main road, you cut through the graveyard. The map shows a southwest path leading directly to the farm—perfect. Less people, less awkward small talk.

Or so you thought.

As you stepped past the last row of tombstones, a door creaked open.

A young woman stepped out from the house ahead (2 Willow Lane, according to the map). Sunlight caught in her golden hair, turning it almost white at the edges. A camera dangled loosely from a strap around her neck, swaying gently as she moves. She lifted it, adjusting the lens, before taking a step forward.

Your breath catches.

You’ve only looked at her for a second—two at most—but it's enough. Your grip tightened on the map. The delicate curve of her nose, the way the breeze tugged a stray strand of hair across her cheek, the soft squint in her eyes as she scanned the sky—somehow, you've already memorized it all.

What the hell?

Panic surges through you, and you do the first thing your brain deems logical.

You snap the map up in front of your face.

Like an idiot.

You peek over the top just in time to see her lift the camera again. The quiet click of the shutter follows, and you realize she’s taking a photo—not of you, thankfully, but of a small potted cactus sitting on her porch.

You exhale sharply, willing your heart to settle.

What was that?

Shaking your head, you lower the map and start walking again, forcing yourself to focus.

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

You make it about three steps before stopping again.

Your gaze drifted back toward her.

She’s smiling softly at the photo she just took, adjusting the camera settings before raising it again.

Cute.

You forced yourself to keep walking, chastising yourself for acting like a creep.

All that gawking, and you didn’t even have the guts to ask for her name.

But it doesn’t matter.

Because the moment you saw her—blond, shiny hair, brilliant blue eyes, and that damn camera swinging from her neck—you knew you were fucked.

The plan?

Crumpled. Burnt. Gone.

With a sigh, you trudged toward the farm, muttering under your breath, “Looks like I’m going to live on a farm after all.”

****

Spring 2

The forest was quiet except for the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the branches.

You had only been here for one day and you were already starting to like it here—the air was cleaner, untouched by the thick smog of the city, and the silence was more comforting than suffocating.

You crouched by the riverbank, palm open as the tiny squirrel sniffed at the wild walnuts resting in your hand.

It had taken patience to earn the little guy’s trust. Just yesterday, wildlife scattered the moment you approached, unfamiliar with you, an outsider. But now, after some consistence of offering food and waiting, they hesitated a little less, inched a little closer.

This one, in particular, had grown bold. His tiny paws brushed against your fingers as he picked up a walnut, nibbling it with twitching whiskers.

A small smile pulled at your lips.

Then—click.

The sound was sharp, foreign. Unmistakable.

Your body reacted before your brain caught up, head snapping toward the source.

Someone was standing just beyond the clearing, partially hidden by the trees.

A girl.

Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, camera raised.

Recognition hit you a second later.

The girl with the camera.

The one you saw yesterday, standing on her porch, light catching in her hair as she focused on something behind the lens.

Despite the many faces introduced to you yesterday, her face stood out in clarity on most of them.

It's funny how you can remember her despite not knowing her name.

But now she was here. And she had just taken a picture of you.

You blinked at her. She blinked back.

Neither of you moved.

The squirrel let out a startled squeak and bolted into the underbrush. You exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of three remaining walnuts still sitting in your open palm.

Then, finally—

"Uhm," you started, voice breaking the tension. You straightened, dusting dirt from your hands. Now that you were standing, you realized just how much shorter she was up close.

And prettier.

Still, she didn't say a word. Just stared.

A nervous chuckle left your lips. “You’re the girl with the camera yesterday, right?”

She nodded, slow, like her brain was still buffering.

You tilted your head slightly, studying her.

“Oh… You’re that new farmer girl or whatever, aren’t you?” she said, almost absently.

She stood there, staring at you like you had grown a second head, blue eyes flickering over every detail of your face, your clothes—lingering too long, like she was trying to piece something together.

You didn’t understand why she was looking at you like that, but for some reason, you kept talking anyway.

You told her about your grandfather. About how this farm wasn’t planned, how Zuzu City had drained you dry, leaving you with nothing but exhaustion and a letter promising a different life.

You weren’t even sure why you were explaining yourself. Maybe because her presence—so out of place in the middle of the woods—reminded you of who you used to be. Or rather who you are yesterday. The city life, the carefully curated image, the feeling of being misplaced in your own skin.

But Haley wasn’t listening, at least, that’s what you thought.

She was nodding absently, her eyes locked onto your face, mouth slightly parted as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

Then you smiled.

A small, amused smile—not at her, not at anything in particular, just at the absurdity of the moment. Of being here, talking to some blonde girl in the woods who looked like she belonged on a magazine cover rather than in Cindersap Forest.

And just like that, something shifted in her expression.

It was so fast, you almost missed it.

Something too bright flashed behind her eyes—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Shock? Embarrassment? Frustration?

Whatever it was, she reacted to it the way a cornered animal might—by striking first.

"If it weren't for those horrendous clothes, you might actually be pretty."

The words hit you like she slapped you. Hard.

Your smile faltered, dropping so fast you almost felt the sting of it.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Excuse me?"

You didn’t raise your voice, but there was an edge to it now—something sharp and unforgiving.

Haley shifted slightly, like she suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. "Actually, never mind," she muttered quickly, brushing it off.

You watched her for a moment longer before exhaling slowly, fingers tightening around the strap of your rucksack.

Maybe this was just how she was. Maybe she hadn’t meant anything by it.

Or maybe she had.

Either way, you weren’t going to waste your energy on it.

Without a word, you reached into your bag and pulled out a daffodil—bright yellow, delicate in your palm, freshly picked from the clearing earlier.

You held it out to her.

"For me?" she asked, voice quieter than before.

You nodded. “Hmm. It kinda looks like you.”

Something in her shifted again.

This time, when she looked at you, it wasn’t annoyance or scrutiny. It was something else. Something softer.

And you find yourself staring a little longer than you should have. Studying her.

She said thank you. You hummed in acknowledgment. But you didn’t smile this time. It felt wrong to fake it.

The silence stretched between you, heavy, thick with something unspoken.

Then, finally, you broke it. "It's my grandpa's."

She frowned slightly. "What?"

You gestured vaguely to your clothes. "These. They were his."

You saw the realization settle in her eyes.

Understanding. Then, maybe, guilt.

"I moved here with nothing but myself after I decided spontaneously that I can't live a life as I had in Zuzu's." You admitted, exhaling a quiet chuckle. "Didn’t plan on it. Just… happened."

"I—"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be so grim." This time, when you smiled, it was small. Distant. But it was real. "Uhm, sorry to cut this short but" you stared at your watch. "I still have to tidy the farm up; you know it's not exactly the cleanest place right now. I just took a break to feed the little guy. I'll catch you later, Haley."

She didn’t respond. You didn’t expect her to.

As you turned and walked away, you felt her eyes on your back the entire time.

You let out a small smile despite it all. She has a pretty foul mouth.

But pretty, nonetheless.

****

Spring 7

The walk from the farm cabin to Leah's cabin was peaceful, the kind of quiet you had come to appreciate since moving here.

You decided to stop by to drop off some fresh salad. Leah had been kind enough to show you the best places to forage when you first arrived, and you figured it was a decent way to return the favor. She had smiled warmly, thanked you, and invited you to stay for a while, but you had politely declined.

Too much work still needed to be done back home.

With the sun hanging high in the sky, you adjusted the strap of your rucksack and started toward the river, figuring you’d take a little break.

The river had always been a place of quiet for you.

After spending the past few days buried in work—clearing debris, tilling soil, hauling supplies back and forth—the stillness of Cindersap Forest was a welcome break.

And that’s when you spotted her.

Haley.

She was crouched near the water, camera in hand, completely absorbed in whatever she was trying to capture. The focused expression on her face was one you hadn’t seen before—her lips slightly parted, eyes narrowed in concentration. It was… different.

Before you could even think about calling out to her, she suddenly stiffened.

She had seen you.

And then—she ignored you.

Then again, you hadn’t expected much of anything when it came to Haley.

You had assumed, after your last encounter, that she’d brush the whole thing off. That you’d become another passing thought, a minor inconvenience in her otherwise polished life. But the way she looked at you in the forest that day… the way she hesitated, the way her lips had parted slightly in something close to regret—it stuck with you longer than it should have.

You haven’t seen her for days. Not that you were counting. 

Not that you’d been avoiding her.

No, you were just busy.

Busy enough that you hadn’t gone out of your way to see her, or anyone in particular for that matter.

You watched as she very purposefully looked anywhere but in your direction, her hands tightening slightly around her camera, adjusting the lens like she was just so busy she couldn’t possibly be bothered to acknowledge your presence.

You almost laughed.

Seriously?

The past few days, you had gotten the feeling that she had been looking for you—whether it was in passing comments from the townsfolk or the way you caught glimpses of her lingering near places you know she normally wouldn’t be. But now, when you were literally a few feet away? She suddenly had nothing to say?

Fine.

If she wanted to pretend she didn’t see you, you weren’t going to stop her.

You smirked slightly and kept walking, letting her think she had the upper hand.

Except then—

Her foot slipped.

The wet ground beneath her gave way, and you barely had time to register what was happening before she was stumbling forward, arms flailing, panic flashing across her face.

Her camera—her expensive, very breakable camera—was still strapped around her neck, and if she fell, it wouldn’t just be her hitting the water.

Without thinking, your hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her wrist in a firm grip as you yanked her toward you.

The force of it sent her stumbling forward, right into your chest.

For a second, neither of you moved.

You could feel her breath—sharp, uneven—as she processed what had just happened. Her hands were pressed against your chest, her camera strap tangled between you, and for some reason, she wasn’t pulling away immediately.

"That was a close one," you said, your own heartbeat a little faster than normal.

She jerked back like she had been burned, separating from you so quickly that it was almost comical. "I—I..."

"You okay?"

"I am!" she answered too quickly, laughing nervously.

You tilted your head, watching her fidget. Haley was always composed, always sure of herself—but right now? Right now, she looked like she had no idea what to do.

"Thank you, um..." she trailed off, eyes darting anywhere but at you.

You raised an eyebrow. "It's Y/n, remember?"

Something flickered across her face—annoyance? Embarrassment? Both?

"Of course, I remember," she scoffed, tilting her chin slightly. "I was just… I haven't seen you since whatever and—" she huffed, crossing her arms before realizing her camera was in the way and dropping them again. "I was still shocked, okay?"

You fought back a smirk. "Wait, so you were looking for me?"

The way she reacted was immediate. "No!"

You smirked. Right.

"Well," you said casually, throwing her a sideways glance, "if you were wondering, I was actually busy tidying up the farm. Brought over some things I left in the city."

"Okay." She shrugged, still pretending to be indifferent. "As I said, I wasn’t looking for you or anything."

Your chuckle was genuine this time. "Right, right."

She looked like she wanted to smack the smirk off your face.

"You should be careful next time, though." 

"I know." She huffed, brushing her hands off on her skirt. "I was just taking a picture of..."

She turned to point at her subject—only to realize it was gone.

"Great," she grumbled. "It’s gone."

You followed her gaze. "What is?"

"The squirrel!" she flailed, frustration seeping into her tone. "I've been trying to get the perfect shot for hours!"

You hummed in acknowledgment before reaching into your pocket. "Here."

She blinked at the handful of walnuts in your palm, then at you.

"You want me to eat these?"

You chuckled. "No, princess. Hold them out."

She frowned but did as you asked. Without warning, you reached out, wrapping your fingers over hers, positioning her hand so the walnuts rested properly in her palm.

Haley froze.

She didn’t pull away.

You ignored the way your own skin felt too warm from the contact and crouched down beside her, clicking your tongue a few times.

"Just wait a second," you murmured. "They’ll come back."

And sure enough, a moment later, another squirrel peeked out from behind a tree, its tiny nose twitching.

Haley inhaled softly, watching with wide eyes as the small creature scampered closer.

She was entranced.

You found yourself watching her instead.

"It's so cute," she murmured, and for the first time since you met her, the smile on her lips wasn’t forced, wasn’t teasing or sarcastic.

It was real.

Your own smile tugged at the corners of your mouth before you could stop it. "Aren’t they?"

She raised her camera, snapping a quick shot, and you watched as she checked the viewfinder, her brows furrowing in concentration.

"Wow, this looks good." You murmured, stepping behind her to look over her shoulder. "I'm glad you made good use of the natural lighting. Squirrels get frightened a lot with flash."

You didn’t realize how close you had gotten until she suddenly stiffened.

"Kiss ass much?" she muttered, but her voice was quieter than before.

You cleared your throat, pulling back slightly, ears burning. "I'm not—I..." you trailed off, shaking your head. "It's a good photo, okay?"

Haley let out a laugh—loud, unrestrained, warm.

You pretended to be offended. "Haha," you deadpanned, stepping back like you were going to leave.

Immediately, her hand shot out, fingers curling around your wrist for just a second.

"I was kidding!" she said quickly, still laughing. "Yoba, you're so serious."

You looked down at her hand, then back up at her face, before shaking your head with a grin.

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

The back-and-forth continued, and you weren’t sure why it felt so easy.

When had that happened?

Eventually, you sighed dramatically. "You win, woman."

She grinned in triumph. "Ha, I’m always right anyway."

You rolled your eyes but found yourself watching her again, really watching her, and noticing something different.

You couldn't help but think if she had always been like this and you just never noticed.

Or you had been quick to judge her.

Because the Haley you had come to know the past days wasn’t supposed to be this.

Not this close, not this real, not this... beautiful.

You had seen her before—the perfectly put-together version, always polished, always poised. The kind of person who moved like the world bent to her whims, the kind who scoffed at things that didn’t fit into her carefully curated life.

But this Haley?

This was different.

Windblown hair, dirt smudged against the sleeve of a designer outfit that probably wasn’t meant for trekking through the forest. The usual sharpness in her eyes was softened, replaced with something brighter—something curious.

And damn it, you found yourself staring.

You caught yourself just in time, turning away—only to realize she was staring, too.

Your brows furrowed slightly. Was she…?

"Is there something on my face?" The words left your mouth before you could stop them, genuine confusion lacing your tone.

She blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever daze she had fallen into. "You're fine," she said quickly, her voice a little too forced, a little too rushed.

You frowned slightly, touching your jaw as if doubting her response.

She huffed, rolling her eyes before reaching into her purse. "Oh, for Yoba’s sake," she muttered, stepping forward.

Before you could react, she was dabbing at your jawline with a small handkerchief.

Your body froze.

Her fingers brushed against your skin, the touch featherlight but warm. She was standing too close now—close enough that you could see the way her lashes fluttered slightly, the way she chewed the inside of her cheek in concentration.

You should step back.

You should.

But you didn’t.

Instead, before you could think better of it, your fingers moved on instinct, pulling a daffodil from your pocket.

And then, just as easily, you tucked it behind her ear.

She froze.

For a split second, you almost regretted it.

Almost.

"As a thank you," you said quietly.

It sounded stupid the moment it left your lips.

You immediately sputtered out something else—some excuse, some way to make this moment not feel as heavy as it did—but your brain was too busy cursing itself into oblivion to form anything coherent.

She startled you again by responding just as frantically, as if she was the one who had overstepped. Something about how she touched you first, how she was just wiping your face, as if that evened things out.

Neither of you made any damn sense.

Then she reached into her bag, pulling out something small.

A photograph.

You hesitated before taking it, eyes widening a little when you realize who’s in it.

It was you.

From the other day.

You stared.

Seeing yourself through someone else’s lens was… strange. You looked at your own expression, the way the light framed your face, the rawness of it all. It didn’t feel posed, didn’t feel artificial.

You wanted to ask her—is this how you see me?

Instead, you swallowed down the words and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Keep it," she said, voice steadier than before. "Please, it's the least I could do after taking that shot without your consent."

Consent.

Funny. That wasn’t something people in the city had cared much about. But she said it so easily, so naturally, like it was just given.

Your lips tugged into a small, genuine smile. You met her eyes, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

"Thank you," you murmured.

And in response, she didn’t roll her eyes.

For the first time, you saw something else—a brief flicker of relief, like she had been waiting for you to say it.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, you glanced back down at the photo, running your thumb over the edge of it. That’s when you noticed something.

There was writing on the back.

You barely had time to tilt it before she panicked.

"No problem! Uhm, I still need to cook for lunch, yeah," she blurted out.

It was still morning.

You weren’t going to correct her.

She was already stepping back, clutching the daffodil in her hair like she had only just remembered it was there. "Thank you again for helping me and for the… saving thing. I’ll… I’ll see you around, yeah?"

She bowed slightly—actually bowed—before turning on her heel and walking away.

You blinked.

Did she just…?

You exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking your head as you watched her retreat.

You weren’t even sure if she heard your response.

Maybe you should have teased her about how she had absolutely been looking for you.

But then again…

You had been looking for her, too.

And you liked looking at her.

****

Spring 8

You weren’t exactly expecting much when you walked into town that afternoon.

The note Haley left on the back of the photo had been unexpected enough—an apology, a breakfast invitation. It wasn’t something you thought she’d do, let alone so soon after that flustered mess of an interaction yesterday. You had read it more than once, half-wondering if she regretted writing it the second she left it in your hands.

Still, you had considered showing up, maybe knocking on her door just to see her reaction.

But something about the way she wrote if you’re free told you she wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

So, you didn’t go.

Not today, anyway.

Instead, you had been running errands—picking up some supplies, stopping by the community board—when you spotted something familiar near the playground. A stray hair tie, tangled around the corner of the bench.

And there, sitting on the swings, was Haley.

She looked… relaxed. Not posing for anything, not trying to capture the perfect shot. Just there, with the spring breeze tugging at the loose strands of her hair, her blue tank top bright against the muted colors of the playground. It wasn’t a place you expected to see her, but somehow, it suited her.

And for some reason, you found yourself staring longer than necessary.

You shook the thought away and approached, holding up the hair tie and the daffodils you had picked up earlier.

"Uh, Haley?"

She stiffened immediately like she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

Slowly, she turned to face you. "Oh… hi there," she said, her voice cautious, as if she weren’t entirely sure how to react to you being here.

You barely noticed her initial reaction, already launching into a casual question about whether the hair tie was hers.

She didn’t respond right away, but that was fine. You figured she just needed a second to realize she’d lost it in the first place.

So, you kept talking, mentioning where you found it, all while loosely holding the daffodils at your side.

You noticed her watching you, gaze flickering over you in a way that almost felt calculating, but you assumed she was just listening.

For a second, you could’ve sworn she lingered on your mouth—but that was ridiculous.

Right?

Her expression shifted slightly, something unreadable passing over her features. But instead of answering, she glanced past you, eyes locking onto something in the distance.

You were about to turn, to see what had caught her attention, when—

"Uhm, how do I say this…"

You blinked at her sudden change in tone.

"I appreciate your gifts and such," she continued, shifting uncomfortably. "But please don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like a little flower will make us besties or anything, you know."

You blinked.

What?

The words hung awkwardly between you, and for a second, you weren’t sure whether to be confused or amused.

Your gaze flicked down to the daffodils in your hand, then back at her.

"Uhm," you started, trying not to grin, "I was just asking if this is your hair tie."

Haley visibly froze.

"Oh!" she squeaked—actually squeaked—before yanking the hair tie from your fingers like it had personally insulted her. "I didn’t even notice it was missing…"

Her cheeks were turning pink.

You tilted your head slightly, watching her fidget. She was embarrassed—deeply embarrassed—but instead of backing down, you decided to push just a little.

"You were saying…?"

The look she gave you was caught somewhere between a glare and complete mortification.

"Sorry for jumping to conclusions,"she muttered quickly, barely meeting your eyes. "I was just… well, never mind."

You chuckled, still not entirely sure what just happened but deciding to let it go.

"Hey, you weren’t wrong." Before she could overthink it, you held out the daffodils. "These are actually for you."

Her fingers twitched slightly but hesitated before taking them.

"And I’m not expecting you to be friends with me just because I give you flowers, you know?"

"Then what else were you expecting?"

The question should’ve sounded snappy, but her voice came muffled this time as she buried her nose in the petals.

You grinned, shifting your weight slightly. "Ever heard of giving a pretty flower to a pretty lady?"

From somewhere behind you, there was a distinct sound.

Something like—

A snort?

Only then did you notice movement from the corner of your eye.

Demetrius.

He was walking past, definitely within earshot, and judging by the way he was fighting back a laugh, he had heard everything.

Haley let out a long, suffering sigh, pressing the flowers closer to her face like they could somehow erase the last two minutes of her life.

But she wasn’t throwing them back at you.

She wasn’t storming off, either.

Instead, she stood there, half-hidden behind the petals, golden hair catching the sunlight in a way that made the moment feel surreal.

Weird.

How can someone be prettier next to a pretty flower?

****

Spring 9

You finally decided to accept Haley’s invitation.

It had been sitting in the back of your mind since she gave you the photo—her apology, neat but uncertain, scrawled onto the back like she had debated every word before leaving it in your hands.

You didn’t take her for the type to apologize easily.

Or at all, really.

But she had.

And if she had gone through the trouble of inviting you to breakfast, the least you could do was show up.

So, on Spring 9, you knocked on the door of 2 Willow Lane.

Emily answered, bright and welcoming as always. “Hey, Y/n! Come in, come in,” she chirped, already moving toward the kitchen. “Tea?”

You hesitated, glancing past her toward the small dining area. The house wasn’t big, only a few rooms. If Haley was here, she’d be just past the kitchen, maybe in her bedroom or the bathroom, but nowhere far enough to not have heard the knock.

“She’ll be out in a sec,” Emily assured you.

So, you waited.

And waited.

And by the time you reached the bottom of your mug, Emily was giving you an apologetic smile, one that silently said, Yeah… she’s not coming out.

You left soon after.

The next morning, you tried again.

This time, Emily didn’t even pretend. She cracked the door open, sighed, and leaned against the frame.

“She’s… busy.”

Which was just code for hiding.

You didn’t have to peek inside to know Haley was there. The way Emily shifted like she was blocking the view, the faintest rustle of movement from the other side of the house—it was obvious.

Emily gave you a knowing look, half amused, half exasperated.

You just smiled, adjusted your satchel, and said, “No worries. Tell her I stopped by.”

And that was that.

You didn’t try again after that.

But that didn’t mean you didn’t notice her.

You saw the way she turned away when she spotted you from across the bridge.

The way she peeked through her window, only to snap the curtain shut when she realized you were looking back.

The way she hesitated—for just a second—whenever you passed by, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t figure out how.

You weren’t sure whether to be amused or frustrated.

She was avoiding you.

That much was obvious.

What wasn’t obvious was why.

So instead of focusing on it, you spent the rest of the day helping Penny.

If Haley was going to keep her distance, you weren’t going to waste time chasing her.

Penny was one of the first people to welcome you to Pelican Town, long before anyone else had warmed up to you. She was quiet, kind, and had an easy presence—one that made it effortless to spend time with her.

On most afternoons, you could be found helping her with Vincent and Jas’s lessons under the big tree outside her trailer. Not because she asked you to, but because you liked it.

She always seemed so grateful, even though you barely did anything.

Which was why you were more than a little surprised when she wasn’t entirely thrilled to see you today.

"You look tired," she observed as you sat down beside her, a book resting in her lap.

You raised a brow. "Do I?"

Penny hummed, giving you a once-over. "You’ve been… distracted lately."

You blinked.

You hadn't expected her to notice.

"I’ve been busy," you said, which wasn’t exactly a lie.

Penny gave you a look. A soft, knowing look that made you feel like she could read right through you.

She didn’t push. She never did.

Instead, she simply turned her attention back to the book and said, “the kids are late again. Want to read until they gets here?”

And that was that.

You didn’t bring up Haley.

And Penny didn’t ask.

But later, as you helped Jas with her spelling, you caught Penny watching you, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at her lips.

You had a feeling she knew exactly what was on your mind.

Maybe even better than you did.

****

Haley was still avoiding you.

By now, you were starting to wonder if she thought you were some kind of curse she needed to outrun.

You still weren’t sure what you did to make her act like this.

She had been fine at the playground. She had been flustered, sure, but she had laughed with you, teased you, even handed you a photo like it actually meant something.

And then, suddenly, she was gone.

It wasn’t like you had time to dwell on it, though.

Between the farm, errands, and helping Penny with her lessons, your days were full. You spent the morning delivering leeks to Evelyn, knowing she liked to cook them for George. You spent the afternoon tending to the crops and making sure you didn’t completely ruin the fencing you had hastily built last week.

And now?

Now you were standing in front of the community board, scanning over Pierre’s latest overpriced sale, when a voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"You’re doing it again."

You turned to find Penny standing beside you, arms crossed, her expression patient but pointed.

"Doing what?"

"Spacing out," she said simply.

You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. "You should stop paying so much attention to me."

Penny just smiled. "I can’t help it when you’re so obvious."

You gave her a look.

She returned it, unbothered.

After a moment, you sighed and leaned against the board.

"You ever get the feeling that someone’s avoiding you?" you asked.

Penny tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

You weren’t sure why you asked.

Maybe because you knew Penny wouldn’t tease you for it. Maybe because you knew she’d actually give you an answer worth listening to.

Or maybe because she had already figured it out, and you didn’t feel like pretending otherwise.

Instead of answering immediately, Penny tapped her chin in thought.

"If someone is avoiding you," she said slowly, "there are usually two reasons."

You raised a brow, waiting.

"Either they don’t like you," she said, glancing at you, "or they like you too much."

Your breath caught—just for a second.

Penny noticed.

And she smirked. You know it’s bad when Penny smirks out you. She never does that after all.

You groaned, running a hand down your face. "Penny. Come on."

"What?" she laughed, shrugging. "I’m just saying."

You shook your head, not entirely sure whether to be annoyed or impressed.

And yet, as Penny walked off, you found yourself staring at the daffodils blooming just a few feet away.

The same ones you had given Haley.

The same ones she had buried her nose in, pretending she wasn’t flustered.

The same ones that, for some reason, made your stomach twist.

Either they don’t like you…

Or they like you too much.

You weren’t sure which one was worse.

But you were pretty sure you were about to find out.

****

Spring 12

You hadn’t planned on stopping by 2 Willow Lane today.

But after running errands near the town square, you figured—why not? It wasn’t like you were doing anything urgent back on the farm, and besides… you still owed Haley a proper conversation after she practically disappeared for the last few days.

The last time you saw her, she was stuffing her face into a bunch of daffodils and acting like she wasn’t flustered. Now? You weren’t entirely sure what to expect.

Maybe today would be different.

So, you knocked.

“Hello?”

The moment you stepped inside, you were greeted by two very different expressions—Emily’s, which was polite but amused, and Haley’s, which looked… well, looked like she was about to strangle someone—possibly you, but more likely Emily.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.”

You blinked at Haley’s blunt answer.

Emily let out a heavy sigh, rubbing her temple. “Sorry about that, Y/n/n. Haley’s just complaining because I asked her to clean the cushions—”

“—which you should be doing because it’s your schedule, not mine.” Haley cut in sharply, sending her sister a glare. She then turned to you, her blue eyes sharp and expectant. “It’s important to mention that I already cleaned them last week.”

“Haley…”

“Shut it, Em. I want to hear what she has to say.”

You blinked.

Oh.

This was a thing.

Emily looked exasperated, while Haley looked… weirdly eager?

Did she actually want your opinion on this?

For a second, you hesitated, glancing between them. The last thing you wanted was to somehow make things worse, but at the same time, Haley was looking at you like she really wanted to be validated right now.

"Well," you started carefully, trying to find a middle ground, "why not have this be your one weekly job?"

Haley’s face immediately dropped.

Oh.

Not the answer she wanted, then.

Before you could backtrack, she turned on her heel, clearly done with the conversation.

And for some reason, that didn’t sit right with you.

Without really thinking, you reached out and grabbed her hand.

She froze.

"W-wait," you stammered, suddenly realizing what you’d just done. “I’m not siding with anyone."

Haley stared down at your hands, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she looked back up at you, skeptical. "Sure."

You swallowed. "I just thought it’d be the best course of action, so you two don’t have to argue over it again. If you took this job, Emily wouldn’t bother you again with cleaning the bathroom every two days. Right, Em?"

“Yeah!” Emily agreed immediately, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

You turned back to Haley, watching as her lips twitched—like she was this close to smiling, but was too stubborn to let it show.

“Doesn’t that sound more appealing?” you prompted.

For a second, Haley didn’t say anything. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, she shrugged.

“Alright, you win.”

Emily squinted at her, as if trying to figure out how you had gotten her to agree so quickly. Then, to your surprise, she turned to you with an almost appreciative look. “Thanks, Y/n/n. That was a great solution.”

You chuckled, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s no problem, really.”

Emily clapped her hands together. “Why don’t you stay for breakfast?”

You opened your mouth to decline, but before you could, Haley spoke.

“Your hands are rough and warm.”

You blinked.

“…Huh?”

Haley’s eyes widened slightly, and then, for the first time, you actually saw her panic.

“I mean—what I meant to say was—” She sputtered, tripping in every sense of the word before taking a deep breath to let out a composed response. “Yeah, you can join us for breakfast.”

You saw Emily smirked and gave Haley a look. “Good! Then I’ll get on with it. Haley, keep our guest occupied.”

“You sure?” you asked when you saw the hesitation in her eyes.

If she's still uncomfortable around your presence then you would politely dip out. You got all the time in the world after all.

“Of course.”

“…Okay,” you said slowly, though something about the way her face was slightly pink made you really want to tease her about it. Instead, you nudged her lightly. “How about we clean these cushions now? So, you won’t have to later?”

Haley scoffed. “Eh. It’s fine. I can do that later.”

“I insist. Two pairs of hands are better than one, y’know?”

“Ugh. Of course you’d say some dorky crap like that,” she grumbled, but you could hear the slightest waver in her voice, like she was fighting back a smile.

You only laughed, moving to lift the couch.

****

Spring 13

You hadn’t really thought about birthdays before moving to Pelican Town.

Back in the city, they had been just another day—sometimes an excuse for coworkers to bring in cake, but mostly just something you marked on a calendar and then forgot.

But here? Here, birthdays mattered.

You had been scanning the community board at Pierre’s when you first saw it—"Haley’s Birthday – Spring 14."

It was written in neat, careful script, decorated with little doodles of flowers in the corners.

For a second, you just stared at it.

You could have ignored it. You weren’t really friends. Acquaintances, sure—closer than before, but still hovering in that weird in-between where it wasn’t clear if she actually liked you or just tolerated you.

But then you thought about the coconut-themed bandage she forced you to wear a few days ago.

Your forehead still had a faint scab from when you accidentally ran headfirst into a low-hanging branch while foraging. Haley had been the only person around when it happened, and instead of laughing at you like she definitely wanted to, she had sighed dramatically, muttered something about “idiots getting themselves killed,” and yanked you inside her house to clean it up.

You still remembered her standing over you, scrutinizing her first-aid kit before pulling out a very unnecessary selection of bandages.

"Sunflowers or coconuts?" she had asked, dead serious.

"That’s… the only choice?"

"Obviously. Pick one."

You had sighed, pointed at the coconut-themed one, and watched as she carefully placed it over your cut like it was some sort of delicate surgical procedure.

"You’re officially less ugly now," she had declared, patting your cheek before walking off.

It had been ridiculous.

But for some reason, you had thought about it again when you saw her name on the birthday list.

So, naturally, you did the most insane thing possible and spent majority of the day trying to find a coconut for her.

Spring 14 - Early Morning

Your quest to find her a perfect gift yesterday had been nothing short of a failure.

Coconuts weren’t local here, after all.

You had checked everywhere (except Joja’s, of course)—Pierre’s, even asking Pam in case she’d somehow stumbled across one.

"Calico Desert," she had said. "That’s where you’ll find ‘em. But unless you got wings, kid, you ain’t getting there anytime soon."

Right. The bus was still out of service.

You made a mental note to prioritize that when working on the community center. Maybe the Junimos could help.

But for now?

You needed another plan.

The traveling merchant.

Marlon had once mentioned her in passing—"If you’re looking for something rare, something out of season, she’s your girl. But she doesn’t sell cheap."

You had barely waited for sunrise before setting out to find her, boots crunching against the damp forest floor as you took the back route toward Cindersap.

By the time you arrived, she was already setting up shop, humming a tune under her breath.

She barely looked up as she greeted you. "Back so soon?"

No time for pleasantries.

"Please tell me you have a coconut in stock," you said, then hastily added, "or a sunflower."

She let out a low hum, tapping her chin, drawing out the moment just to toy with you.

"Mmm… you’re in luck. Got a few coconuts left. But they aren’t cheap."

Of course, they weren’t.

Didn’t matter.

You pulled out the pouch from your pocket, untying the string with practiced ease. The weight of it was familiar, comfortable.

More than enough.

The merchant raised an amused brow as you handed over the payment without hesitation.

"Didn’t even ask the price, huh?"

You just smiled, rolling the coconut in your palm, satisfied.

"Didn’t need to."

It was plump, perfectly shaped—exactly the kind of thing you imagined Haley would appreciate. You even took the time to wrap it (poorly) with a ribbon you found lying around in your house.

It looked ridiculous.

But handing it to her unwrapped felt even weirder.

And now?

All that was left was to find her.

Late Morning

You checked the beach first.

Then the town square.

Then the entire stretch of road leading to Marnie’s ranch.

Nothing.

You were starting to wonder if she had just locked herself in her house all day when, finally, you spotted a familiar blonde figure sitting on a bench in the playground.

Huh, this scene feels familiar.

For some reason, the sight made you pause.

She wasn’t posing. She wasn’t talking to anyone.

She was just there, her arms loosely wrapped around her knees, her gaze distant.

For a moment, you considered turning around.

But instead, you stepped forward.

"Thought I’d find you here."

She looked up, startled, before quickly masking it with an indifferent shrug. “Done with your chores?”

You plopped down beside her. "Woke up extra early to finish them all."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why? You have plans?"

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

"Had to run some errands," you said, reaching into your rucksack, "and I wanted to give you this."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Give me your hands."

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted them.

That sounded way too serious. Way too something.

And then, to make things even worse, you followed up with:

"Just trust me, Hay."

Oh, Yoba. No. Abort. Abort.

Why did you say that? You never called her that before.

She was definitely going to call you out for it. Or roll her eyes. Or—

…Or she’d just listen.

Because, to your absolute shock, she sighed and held out her hands.

You barely had time to process your overwhelming relief before you carefully placed the coconut in her palms.

She blinked.

Stared down at it.

And then, for the first time since you met her, she seemed completely, utterly speechless.

"I… I love coconuts."

You exhaled a quiet laugh, suddenly feeling like maybe—maybe—this was worth all the trouble. "I know."

She clutched it a little tighter. "How did you know?"

You rubbed the back of your neck, feeling weirdly shy. "Remember when you patched up my cut? You made me pick between a sunflower band-aid or a coconut one. So, I kinda assumed they were your favorite."

She let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “B-but how? You can’t just summon a coconut tree, and there’s no way you had time to go to the desert—"

"It was pure luck," you admitted. "The traveling merchant had a few in stock. But she warned me they’d sell out before noon, so I got there early."

Her fingers traced the edges of the ribbon, her expression soft.

Then, almost too quietly, she murmured, “Thank you. It’s really sweet of you to do all this.”

"No problem. I like it when you smile." You shrugged, trying to play it off. "Happiness looks good in you."

Something flickered in her eyes.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

The park was quiet, the sun warm against your skin.

And in that stillness, you realized something—

You weren’t just acquaintances anymore.

You weren’t quite friends, either.

But whatever this was?

It was something.

****

It had started as a casual thing.

You never really planned on showing up at 2 Willow Lane every morning.

But after that first breakfast—where Emily practically shoved a plate in your hands and Haley begrudgingly tolerated your presence—you just… kept coming back.

At first, it had been an excuse to escape the overwhelming solitude of the farm. Waking up at dawn, toiling in the fields, eating alone—it was fine. But it wasn’t exactly fun.

The mornings here were different.

Emily would hum while cooking, always somehow awake and cheerful despite her late-night shifts at the saloon. Haley, on the other hand, would sit at the table looking half-asleep, hair an absolute mess, grumbling about how “humans shouldn’t be awake before 9.”

It was domestic. Easy. Nice.

And you liked it.

So, you kept coming back.

And for some reason, Haley never told you to stop.

Which was weird, because Haley Carter absolutely would have told you to stop if she actually wanted to.

Emily must’ve noticed something too, because one morning, after you had helped clean up the dishes, she pulled you aside with a conspiratorial grin.

"Haley's a little calmer when you're around, Y/n/n."

You had laughed, shaking your head. "I think she just doesn’t want me to see her throwing a spoon at you."

Emily only winked.

And maybe—just maybe—Haley had heard, because the next day, when you showed up at their door like usual, she muttered something under her breath before letting you in.

Something suspiciously close to "You’re late."

****

The thing about Pelican Town was that it had a rhythm.

People followed routines here. Maru always took the same route to work. Jodi always went grocery shopping on Mondays. Penny always had her class under the big tree at the same time each day.

And Haley?

Haley had patterns too.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

That every time you turned a corner and saw her, it was just luck.

But after a while, you started to realize that maybe—maybe—you had started to learn her habits without meaning to.

Like how she always went to the riverbank after lunch if it was sunny.

Or how she stopped by Pierre’s around noon but only ever bought fruit.

Or how she took the long way home through the park when she thought nobody was looking.

You weren’t following her or anything. That would be weird.

But sometimes, your paths just… lined up.

And, more and more, it started feeling less like an accident.

Because instead of rolling her eyes and storming off like she used to, Haley had started doing something else entirely.

She started stopping.

Not always. Not every time.

But sometimes—when you greeted her in passing or made some dumb joke—she’d actually pause, sigh dramatically, and talk to you.

Complain about the weather. Ask if you had seen Alex. Casually mention that she had "accidentally" taken a picture of you feeding the squirrels and no, you definitely couldn’t see it.

And if she really wasn’t in the mood?

Well.

She still didn’t walk away.

****

You stood outside 2 Willow Lane, balancing a small crate in your arms as you knocked lightly before pushing the door open.

Haley was already at the table, sipping what looked like a strawberry smoothie. She glanced up as you entered, giving you a once-over before looking back at her drink.

“You’re late.”

You blinked.

"...It’s 8:07."

"Exactly."

You huffed out a laugh, kicking the door shut behind you as you set the crate down on the counter.

Emily peeked over from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh! More eggs and milk?”

“Figured it’s only fair,” you shrugged. “Can’t keep letting you guys feed me for free.”

Emily waved you off. “Oh, please. You’re basically family at this point.”

Haley made a noise suspiciously close to a choke.

You didn’t comment on it.

Instead, you slid into your usual seat as Emily set a plate of pancakes in front of you with a satisfied grin.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew it.

This was a routine now.

And neither of you seemed to mind.

****

Mornings at 2 Willow Lane had become second nature by now.

You didn't even hesitate before knocking, pushing the door open with a familiar ease, half-expecting Emily’s usual cheery greeting.

But instead of Emily, the first thing you heard was Haley grunting.

A frustrated, muffled noise, followed by a sharp “Come on, just open already!”

You stopped mid-step, blinking.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had walked into, but based on the sheer determination in her voice, it was either a battle for her life… or a particularly stubborn jar.

Considering this was Haley, the latter seemed more likely.

Peering into the kitchen, your suspicions were confirmed.

Haley stood at the counter, face scrunched up in frustration, gripping a jar like it had personally wronged her. She twisted the lid with all the strength she could muster, letting out another huff when it refused to budge.

You bit back a laugh, watching for a moment as she scowled at the object like sheer hatred alone might force it to open.

Yeah, this was too good to pass up.

"You need some help?" you finally spoke up, amusement thick in your voice.

Haley jumped.

She turned quickly, blue eyes wide with surprise before she covered it up with an exaggerated scowl.

"Ugh. How does it feel seeing me in pain?"

You grinned. There it is.

"Aw, does the baby need help?" you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

That was a mistake.

The look she shot you could have incinerated you on the spot.

"Hmp," she scoffed, holding the jar closer to her chest like a challenge. "I was about to cook breakfast for us, but now I don't feel like doing it."

You held up your hands in mock surrender, biting back another chuckle. "Alright, alright, miss sassy pants. Come here."

Before she could protest, you reached over, tugging lightly at the loop of her belt to pull her closer.

You hadn't really thought about it—just something casual, something natural—but the way she froze made your brain catch up real fast.

Oh.

Oh.

Had that been too bold?

But before you could dwell on it, you grabbed the jar from her hands, twisted the lid with ease, and plopped it back into her grasp like it was nothing.

"Piece of cake," you said smugly, flashing her a grin.

For a second, she just stared.

Then—

"Hmp. You're stronger than you look," she muttered, crossing her arms with a faux pout.

You quirked an eyebrow. Stronger than you look?

"Excuse me?" you repeated, placing a hand on your hip. "What do you mean stronger than I look?"

Haley gave you a once-over, not particularly impressed. "I mean, you’re kinda…" She gestured vaguely at you. "Scrawny-looking under all those baggy farm clothes."

You gasped. Scrawny?!

Alright. Fine. Now it was personal.

Rolling up your sleeves, you flexed dramatically, putting on your best Alex-worthy showmanship. "I’ll have you know, Miss Carter, farm work is no joke."

Haley blinked.

Her mouth parted slightly—just for a second—before she quickly turned away, crossing her arms tighter. "Y-yeah, yeah, show-off."

Huh.

Weird reaction.

She had seen Alex flex a thousand times and usually mock-gagged at the sight.

But right now?

You had a very strong suspicion she had definitely just checked you out.

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach did something.

You quickly shoved that something into a box and locked it away, because nope, not unpacking that today.

And then—

"I wonder how many other ladies have been lucky enough to see that impressive display."

You nearly choked on air.

WHAT.

You blinked at her, half-expecting her to burst out laughing or tell you she was joking, but—

No.

She was smirking.

Smirking, while still not looking directly at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt like she hadn’t just said that out loud.

Your brain short-circuited.

It took a full three seconds before you recovered enough to bark out a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Uh, how many are you?"

It was Haley’s turn to choke on her own spit.

Her face turned pink.

You grinned.

"I’m gonna hit you," she sputtered, clutching the jar like it was a weapon.

You laughed, backing up with your hands raised. "Okay, okay! I’ll help you cook, alright?"

"Fine," she muttered, recovering quickly. "But you’re going to boil the pasta. You suck at making the sauce."

"Yeah, yeah, M'lady. Let’s do it your way."

****

You weren’t entirely sure how the two of you worked so well in the kitchen, but somehow it just… clicked.

Maybe it was because Haley actually knew how to cook.

Like—really knew how to cook.

You had expected her to just throw ingredients into a pan and hope for the best (or, at worst, order you to do all the hard work), but nope.

She worked with practiced ease, moving around the kitchen like she had done this a thousand times before.

Which—maybe she had.

It wasn’t something she boasted about.

Which made it all the more surprising when you found yourself… actually impressed.

"Okay, stir gently," she instructed as you stood next to her at the stove. "You don’t want the sauce to break."

You did as told, though not without a little dramatic flair. "Like this, boss?"

"Less stupid, more stirring."

"Wow. So bossy."

"Yeah, well, someone has to keep you in check."

You grinned but didn’t argue.

Because standing here, in the warmth of 2 Willow Lane, listening to Haley boss you around while the scent of fresh pasta filled the air—

You realized something.

You didn’t mind at all.

****

Spring 20

In hindsight, challenging Shane to a drinking contest was a mistake.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but you also weren’t a regular at the Stardrop Saloon, knocking back beers like they were water. Unlike Shane, who, for all his problems, had a tolerance that could rival Pam’s.

Still, it had been his birthday, and after spending weeks drowning in farm work with barely enough time to breathe, a part of you thought—why not?

Bad. Idea.

The first couple of drinks had been fine. You laughed, listened to Gus grumble about Shane’s tab, even managed to hold a decent conversation with Sam before he had to carry Vincent home.

But by drink number five, the world tilted just a little.

By drink number seven, you were buzzed.

By drink number nine, Shane was on the floor, Pam was laughing at you, and Emily was calling for backup.

And now?

Now you were leaning against the bar, eyes half-lidded, vaguely aware that someone was helping Shane, but—

Oh.

Oh, she’s here.

Even through your drunken haze, you’d recognize that perfume anywhere—clean, soft, expensive.

A sleepy grin pulled at your lips.

"Hay…? Is that you…?"

She sighed, her voice half-exasperated, half-soft. "Yeah, it’s me."

Her arm looped around your waist, pulling you upright as she guided you toward the door.

Warm.

She was warm.

And soft.

And so close.

Haley smelled really good, which wasn’t surprising, but it was distracting because your brain was already a mess and now there were too many thoughts happening at once.

"You smell geurd…" you mumbled.

Haley stiffened against you, and if you were sober, you might’ve enjoyed the way her breath hitched.

"I know," she retorted, voice tight. "And you smell like beer."

Which—fair.

But you could still smell the lemon and mint under all of it, the scent of fresh air and something sweet that made your stomach flip.

She smelled better than anyone had the right to.

You let her drag you outside, vaguely aware of voices around you—Pam yelling something about kids these days, Leah offering help (which Haley firmly declined, for some reason?), and Penny’s gentle concern.

Didn’t matter.

None of them were Haley.

You barely noticed when the town’s quiet streets replaced the saloon’s warm glow, the crisp spring air biting at your flushed skin. The cobblestone path blurred under your feet, and if it weren’t for Haley, you’d probably be face-first in a bush.

"Where… we going?" you slurred, stumbling slightly.

"Home," she grunted, adjusting her hold on you. You chuckled, amused by how done she sounded. "Yoba, just how many beers did you drink? Surely, you're not that much of a lightweight."

You held up three fingers. "I had nine." You thought for a second, then added, "Shane, I think… had seven."

Haley snorted. "I’m pretty sure I’m not dumb enough to count three on your fingers."

"It’s three times three," you explained sagely.

"Yeah, sure."

"Yeah! And I'm completely sober."

You took two confident steps forward—

And immediately tripped.

Haley caught you, her arm tightening around your waist before you could faceplant into Marnie’s fence.

"Oops—" You grinned, looking up at her through hazy eyes. "Thanks, babe."

Haley froze.

Like. Froze.

Her whole body went stiff, and for a second, you thought she might actually drop you.

Her grip on you tightened instead.

You felt her heartbeat pick up, her breath hitch slightly as she stared at you, her face suddenly red.

Weird.

You liked that.

"Wow, you sure are flirty tonight," she muttered, clearing her throat. "You sure you're sober?"

You hummed, contemplating. Were you?

You stopped walking. Haley turned, confused, as you stood still under the streetlights, the dim glow casting shadows across her face.

You wanted to remember this.

Because it felt… important.

Because Haley Carter was looking at you.

Because Haley Carter was holding you.

And because, drunk or not, you had just said something honest.

"The only time I allow myself to be this close to you," you murmured, your words slurring less now, "without my heart pounding in my chest, is in the reality I’ve created in my dreams."

You lifted your head, searching her expression.

Her lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours, uncertainty flickering across her face.

The air between you felt… different. Thicker.

"So, tell me, Haley…" you breathed, voice quieter now.

Your head tilted, gaze tracing over the softness of her features, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her fingers tightened slightly around your wrist.

"Am I sober, or is this just a dream?"

And Yoba—

You really, really hoped she had the answer.

****

Spring 24

You had never run away from anything in your life.

Not when Joja tried to groom you into something you weren’t.

Not when the weight of a legacy you wanted no part in nearly crushed you.

Not when you packed up your bags, left everything behind, and started fresh in a quiet little town where no one knew your name, your past, or how much money you technically had sitting untouched in a city bank.

But Haley Carter?

You ran from her.

For four days.

And Yoba help you, but you had no idea what you were even running from.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at you that night—half-lidded blue eyes too sharp, too soft, too knowing. Maybe it was the warmth of her fingers ghosting over your wrist, your shoulder, your neck. Maybe it was the fact that you had called her babe, and for once in her life, she hadn’t snapped at you for it.

No.

It was worse than that.

It was the way she hadn’t corrected you at all.

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, wearing nothing but shame and your bedsheets, and found Haley in your kitchen, wearing your damn shirt, making breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It had nearly killed you.

And then she had turned around, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to you, and teased you about your weak alcohol tolerance like it was all so simple.

So, yeah. You ran.

Straight into the mines, where monsters were easier to fight than whatever the hell was happening to your heart.

Away from breakfast invitations, away from Emily’s knowing glances, away from your own stupid, reckless, painfully obvious feelings.

It wasn’t like you expected her to chase after you. But you also didn’t expect her to notice your absence this much.

You had meant to skip the Flower Dance.

Even if dancing was something you could probably master in five minutes if you really tried.

Even if the festival would have been another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things you were unexpectedly good at.

That list was getting long. Too long.

At first, farming had been just another thing to conquer.

You had picked up a shovel for the first time, read a few books on agriculture, and within weeks, your farm was thriving like a well-oiled machine.

Your crops flourished, your animals followed you like a shepherd, and the once-abandoned land now looked alive in a way that felt almost... personal.

And somewhere along the way, it stopped being about proving you could do it.

Somewhere along the way, you started waking up excited to see what had grown overnight.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with it.

Not because it was something you were good at, but because it was something that felt like yours.

And Haley Carter? She was the first thing in your life that didn’t come easy.

And maybe that’s why you had been avoiding her.

Because you didn’t know what to do about something you couldn’t master in a day.

And then, of course, Alex has other plans.

Before you knew it, he grabbed you by the collar before the Flower Dance and forced you back into her orbit.

****

"Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

You nearly choked on your own breath. "What?"

Alex grinned like he was enjoying this way too much. "You got this. There's no need to worry."

"I don't—"

"You got this." He cut you off. You barely had enough time to wrap your head around what was happening before Alex was shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into your hands.

Haley’s eyes were already on you.

You could feel them. Watching. Waiting.

And you?

You were panicking. Internally, of course.

Externally? Blank face. Neutral expression. Playing it cool.

But inside? Complete. Freaking. Chaos.

Penny, bless her, tried to intervene. "Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?"

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea immediately, grinning wider when he saw the panic in your eyes. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important."

Your entire soul left your body.

Your mouth was dry. Your brain was short-circuiting. You wanted to look at Haley but—NOPE.

Because if you looked at her, you might see hope. Or worse—disappointment.

And Yoba help you, you didn’t know which was scarier.

Then she said it.

"Wait a second—can’t we get a say in this?!"

And your stomach sank.

Oh. Oh.

So she didn’t want to.

You should have expected that. You should have prepared for that.

You should have let yourself believe that was coming. But for some reason, it still stung.

For a split second, your fingers curled around the jacket in your hands, grip tightening, something raw twisting in your gut. You weren’t sure what you had been hoping for, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

The rush of disappointment came so suddenly that it nearly threw you off balance.

Of course, she didn’t want to. Why would she?

You had never felt less qualified for anything in your entire life.

The moment was so quick—so fleeting—that you barely had time to process it before Alex shut her down with a cheery, "Nope!"

"Very well, then." Mayor Lewis clapped his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

Haley was warm.

That was your first thought when you wrapped your hands around her waist.

Your second thought was, I should not be thinking about this.

But it was too late. Her perfume—light vanilla and something faintly floral—wrapped around your senses, and the heat of her skin, even through layers of silk, burned. For a second, you forgot how to move.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Her voice was quieter now, breathless.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to meet her eyes.

Haley, in white silk and soft curls, looking up at you with something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart stumbled over itself.

Her hands—small, delicate, trembling ever so slightly—rested on your shoulders.

You should say something. Anything.

But all that came out was, "Huh?"

Not your best moment.

Haley had just said something, something important—and all you could do was stand there like an idiot while your mind scrambled to catch up.

Her voice was quieter now, breathless, uncertain in a way you rarely heard.

"You were avoiding me."

Your grip on her waist tightened.

She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of her hands on your shoulders burning through the fabric of your suit.

Your first instinct was to deflect. To say something easy. Lighthearted. Something that wouldn’t make your chest feel like it was caving in under her stare.

But the way she looked at you, with something too sharp, too knowing, too close to understanding what you weren’t saying, made it impossible to lie.

You scrambled for an excuse, anything to steer away from the truth.

"You don’t want to dance with me."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, sharp and certain, like she had already decided the answer for you.

Something inside you twisted. You felt it—the briefest flicker of disappointment, sharp and bitter, before you could shove it down. It was stupid. Irrational.

But for a single, awful moment, you thought maybe she had been hoping you’d refuse. Your stomach twisted.

"I wasn’t…"

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Could’ve fooled me."

You barely had time to process the sting behind her words before the music started.

Instinct took over. Without thinking, you twirled her.

Haley gasped softly, caught off guard, her hands instinctively tightening against your shoulders to keep herself steady.

And just like that—you were dancing.

The steps came easily. Too easily.

It should have been hard to match the rhythm. It should have taken weeks of practice to master the precise footwork. Alex had only shown it to you once. Like everything else in your life—it only took once.

And Haley? She moved effortlessly, like she was made for this. Like she was made to fit against you like this.

She returned to your arms just as swiftly as she left them, her fingers curling tighter around the fabric of your coat.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, didn’t you?"

You faltered—barely, but enough for her to notice.

"I don't." 

The words left your mouth too fast. Too immediate.

Haley’s lips parted slightly, startled by your complete lack of hesitation.

"You don’t?"

You hesitated now. Not because it wasn’t true—because it was.

Because saying it out loud, with her, right there, in your arms, looking at you like she was trying to solve a puzzle—felt like admitting to something much bigger.

Something you weren’t ready to name. And yet—

"I don’t want to dance with anyone but you."

There. There it was.

Your dumb, reckless mouth running away from you again.

The words had left before you could stop them, slipping through your defenses like water through cracked stone. And now—now there was no taking them back.

Haley stilled in your arms. Her grip on your shoulders had eased, but her eyes never left yours—sharp, searching, waiting. A slow inhale.

"Then why?" she pressed, voice steady but insistent. "Where were you? I haven’t seen you in days. You haven’t visited us for breakfast."

You swallowed thickly. Damn it.

Of course, she noticed. Of course, she counted.

Four days.Four days of avoiding her. Four days of working yourself into exhaustion, of diving headfirst into the mines with reckless abandon, hoping—stupidly, naively—that maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, you could outrun whatever this was. Whatever she was doing to you.

But the thing about Haley Carter?

She never let anything slide.

"Tell me."

There was something in her voice that left no room for avoidance. No escape.

And when your eyes met hers again, the music, the crowd, the festival—all of it ceased to exist.

It was just her. Just you.

And the four days of silence stretched between you, fragile as glass.

You inhaled, forcing the words out. "I was out mining."

A flicker of something—doubt? frustration?—crossed her face.

"And?"

You hesitated. Your fingers tensed against her waist.

She was close. So close.

You could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, the faintest scent of coconut and vanilla clinging to her hair.

And Yoba help you, you were so weak for it.

"And maybe I was kind of avoiding you…"

Her glare was instant.

Your stomach plummeted. Oh, shit.

Panic sets in.

You scrambled to backpedal, hands tightening around her waist like that would somehow ground you.

"I was embarrassed that I puked on you!"

A beat of silence. A single blink. And then—

"You what?"

You winced. Oh, fantastic. Perfect.

You had somehow, miraculously, spectacularly, made this even worse.

Desperate to recover, you hurriedly added, "Alex told me it was your self-care day and… I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

The irritation in her eyes softened.

Shifted into something else. Something gentler. Something far more dangerous.

"Idiot."

It should have been biting. It should have been mocking.

But instead, it came out like a sigh of relief.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world—

Her arms relaxed completely, hands slipping from your shoulders to wrap around your neck. Your breath hitched.

She let you hold her. No hesitation. No resistance. Just… trust.

The warmth of her breath tickled your collarbone as she whispered, "You haven’t ruined anything."

"Yet." You chuckled, squeezing her waist just a little—just enough to feel real.

"You know…" Haley’s voice dropped to something softer, something almost dangerous.

She leaned closer—so close that her lips nearly grazed your jaw.

"You smell good today."

You nearly stopped breathing. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You could take on a horde of monsters in the mines. You could rebuild an entire town from the ground up.

But this? This had you completely, utterly defenseless.

And then, like a goddamn idiot, you whispered, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

She smiled. She actually smiled.

And Yoba help you, you were so, so doomed.

****

A/n: I only wrote this different perspective for fun and yet I found myself giggling as I wrote the scenes. From Haley’s perspective, it’s completely and utterly different. It was messy, chaotic and uncertain. It was a push and pull of some kind. And our farmer, the ever calm and collected between the two of them has been fighting a losing battle all this time. She was better with emotions but she’s quite a runner, and well… denial is her thing also haha. Also if you noticed, some dialogues were different but with the same thought. I thought it’d be a fun detail to add that since it’s from a different perspective, they have a different way of narrating the scenes. Anyway, I have to stop here because it’s getting far too long. I also maxed out the 1k block soooo . 🤷‍♀️ I also didn’t plan to do the farmer’s perspective for every chapter but I found myself writing it nonetheless. I find it quite fun and interesting that while writing, I’m starting to learn the qualities and quirks of the farmer even though she’s my own creation. 

If you want, you can listen to Every Breath You Take by The Police, Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer, and Bags by Clairo while reading because this special chapter is inspired by these songs.

Anyhow, sorry for the long wait. I only have time on Saturdays to write so please forgive me. I hope you’re all doing well. Ciao!

[a2remedy]

Rocking with the Joker

It was a dark day in Gotham. The dark clouds and heavy rain weren't a new sight for its residents. Some would say it's the city's natural state.

Heavy rain accompanied by thunder usually muffled the cries of people with knives or bullets in their abdomen from a deal gone wrong. At the same time, it was a comfort to Gothamites.

Rain showed the best and worst of the world's crime center. The muffled sounds made finding sleep in the city easier. It made its people more receptive to helping one another. Rain, Darkness, Shadows.

Those were the playgrounds for the very protectors of this city.

It was the very thing that frustrated Oracle at the moment. Looking through wet lens into the alleys and abandoned sites like her life depended on it.

Maybe it did. Switching to being the lady in the chair surely wasn't a seamless but she did a damn good job, if the numerous voices in her ear didn't remind her enough. But she couldn't help her frustration. Even if they didn't speak often, they shared a look. A silent promise to get back at their assailant for what he's done.

A week ago, rogues used the same playground to break out of Arkham. The Joker was out there. Somewhere.

And Jason was silent. It's been slowly eating at her as they caught more rogues. Tim and Dick reported back that they've 'contact'. Whatever they wanted to call it. She hated the 10-foot pole between him and the other bats. She knew he hated it too.

A week since the Joker escape, and his pit rage hasn't died down since.

Her mind stopped wandering as she heard the GCPD. Reported sightings of the pale green gas inside an indoor concert hall, the feint laughter in the background growing louder by the second. With a practiced deftness, she located where the officer's coordinates were and reported to the bats... Right near Crime Alley. "Does anybody have eyes on Red Hood?" Nobody responded for 1...3...5 seconds. She knew well enough that one of the first casualties when Hood was like this was his helmet , and she assumed right when she got in to see the blurry camera that glitched with static occasionally. Right at the doors of the venue. She could make out people crumbling to their knees, desperately making their way for exits before succumbing to the drug. The haunting laughter ringing out from crying faces with grins too large. "I NEED ETAS! STAT!" "I'm 5 minutes away!" Tim responded as he grappled from rooftops. "I'm there in 3!" Dick was hoofing it as she focused on Red Hood. She opened her mouth, and her stomach dropped. Static graced her ears as it came in, but she was sure she heard correctly. "I'm going in." "Hood, just hold on." She knew better than hoping he'd listen. She checked the clear camera. At least, he had his rebreather on. "Hood is making contact. Hurry!"

"On it!" The chorus of voices and affirmative "Hm!" brought the comfort of the rain back to her. He's not alone in this, and neither is she. ---- The corners of his eyes tinged with green as he felt the pits simmer to life. He had to act fast. He had the officers on-site help him and his boys move the people nearest to the exits away before he turned back to the venue and collapsed forms inside. He could barely make out what the others were saying, but he knew well enough that the venue could comfortably fit 1,000 people. Far too many for him and 20 odd cops to handle.

He could still remember Bella, the rock star in the making, nerded out when a meta from the out of the city announced a surprise performance for the end of her tour. What was her name again? He followed the sounds of gunfire the further he got in until he made it to the open double doors. There weren't any bullet holes through the wall and door frame, so he made his way in. His heart was in his chest as he laid his eyes on the room surrounded in green. Lazarus green.

Jason had to keep reminding himself, freak out later, there's a job to do. Freak out later; there's a job to do. FREAK OUT LATE-! Green paved its way through his sight.

But the pits we're of afraid of it. Should he be? He needed something, anything to ground himself. So he touched the freaky thing. The green at the encompassing his vision vanished. Like oil to water, whatever he felt now wasn't the pits. It was like taking a dip into a pool. Cold enough to make you flinch, but it warms to his touch. He didn't notice he was dragging his hand along it until a guy's voice rang out over the mental and physical gunfire. "EMBER!" He took off a purple guitar with teal flame details and tossed it over.

The guitar straps fitted on her like a glove. "I GOT IT, B! LET'S KNOCK THEIR SOCKS OFF!" Jason didn't realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled in relief. Not noticing the band members' attention snapping to him as he finally caught sight of the joker. He gave the room a once over. The room with cheering fans as the band members were still being fired on. "THIS IS EMBER AND THE BUSTAS-" The three other members responded,"-AND WE'RE HERE TO BUST YA BALLS!" What. The. Fuck.

[riareadsvt]

Ruined for You — YJH Corruption Series #CH2

Chapter: 2

— check out the masterlist to find the next chapters.

pairing: ferrari driver!yoon jeonghan x journalist!reader

chapter wc: ~960

genre: corruption arc, slow-burn possession | au: f1 | rating: M (18+) MDNI

warnings: explicit content, power play, toxic dynamics, obsession, manipulation, corruption kink

a/n: this series leans heavily into corruption and possession, but it’s not extreme smut more about power, obsession, and the slow descent into wanting to be owned. expect manipulation, toxic dynamics, and a very possessive jeonghan who always gets what he wants. if that’s your thing, welcome aboard. if not, consider this your warning!

#CH2 — You're Not Gonna Moan, Are You?

Y/N barely had time to recover before she was thrown back into work.

The post-race press conference was set up in one of the larger media rooms, cameras stationed at the front, reporters crowding into rows of chairs. The top three drivers sat on an elevated stage, each at their own podium, microphones in front of them, the bright lights overhead casting a sharp glare.

Jeonghan, of course, was right in the middle.

He looked as calm and put together as ever, dressed in his Ferrari team polo, his damp hair now neatly styled. If she hadn’t been in his motorhome less than an hour ago, legs shaking from what he had done to her, she never would have guessed.

Y/N took her seat in the press section, notebook in hand, pretending her hands weren’t still unsteady.

She was here as a professional. She was going to do her job.

And she was going to pretend Jeonghan’s gaze wasn’t already locked onto her like he knew exactly what she was trying to do.

The moderator started the conference with a few general questions, letting the other two drivers talk about the race while Jeonghan leaned back, looking effortlessly bored.

Y/N did her best to ignore him. She focused on her notes, on what she needed to ask, on keeping her breathing even.

Then her phone buzzed.

She hesitated before glancing down.

A message.

From Jeonghan.

"How’s my girl holding up?"

Her grip on the pen tightened.

She didn’t react. She didn’t look at him. She kept her expression perfectly neutral.

Another buzz.

"You look good like this. All serious. No one would guess what you let me do to you."

Heat crawled up her neck.

She swallowed, flipping to a new page in her notebook as if she hadn’t read it.

Another buzz.

"You’re not sore, are you?"

She clenched her jaw.

This was a game. She knew that.

And she refused to play.

Jeonghan, however, wasn’t one to be ignored.

Her phone vibrated again.

"Want me to remind you? Bet you’d still be dripping if I touched you."

Her breath hitched.

She didn’t dare look up. She knew if she did, he’d be watching. Amused. Smug. Waiting for her to slip.

She focused on the interview.

One of the other reporters asked a question about Jeonghan’s tire strategy, and he finally spoke, voice smooth, completely at ease.

"Yeah, we knew it was gonna be a long stint, but I wasn’t too worried. It’s all about control, right?"

Y/N knew that was meant for her.

She forced herself to scribble a note in the margins of her page, pretending her hand wasn’t trembling.

Her phone buzzed again.

"You’re not gonna moan, are you?"

She barely held in a sharp inhale.

It was too much. She was already on edge, her body still sensitive, still remembering every second in that motorhome. And now Jeonghan was sitting there, in front of cameras, teasing her like it was nothing.

She needed to pull herself together.

Y/N lifted her hand, signaling for the next question.

The moderator nodded at her. "Go ahead."

She cleared her throat. "Jeonghan, can you talk us through your last few laps? The radio messages made it sound like you were holding back a bit."

Jeonghan smiled.

Oh, he was enjoying this.

"Good question," he said, his tone smooth and even. "Yeah, the team was telling me to manage my pace, but I knew I could push harder. Had to make sure I finished strong, right?"

His eyes flicked to hers, amusement dancing behind them.

She knew what he was implying.

Y/N tightened her grip on her pen, willing herself to stay composed.

Then, just as he finished his answer, her phone vibrated again.

"Bet you’re squeezing your thighs together right now."

Her breath caught.

She was.

Jeonghan’s smirk deepened. He shifted slightly in his seat, just enough for her to notice. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily, pulse hammering.

Then another buzz.

"Be a good girl and keep quiet."

Y/N swallowed hard, fingers gripping the edge of her notebook.

She couldn’t do this.

She was too close to breaking, too close to giving something away.

Jeonghan watched her, waiting.

Then, just to make it worse

He licked his lips, slow and deliberate, his fingers tapping idly against his microphone.

Her stomach flipped.

The next question came from another reporter.

"Jeonghan, before the race, you looked really relaxed. What were you doing to stay so calm under pressure?"

Jeonghan chuckled.

"Nothing special," he said, eyes flickering back to Y/N, watching her squirm. "Just had a little fun before things got serious."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat.

No one in the room had any idea what he really meant.

But she did.

And from the way Jeonghan’s smirk widened, she knew he wanted her to think about it.

The heat between her legs was unbearable, her thighs trembling. She fought to keep still, to keep her expression neutral, to not let him win.

But it was impossible when he was this good.

The moderator cleared his throat.

"Alright, I think that wraps things up. Thanks, everyone."

The press conference ended.

Jeonghan pushed his chair back, stretching lazily.

Then just to really drive it in

He caught her gaze, ran his tongue across his bottom lip, and winked.

Y/N’s stomach plummeted.

Jeonghan smirked.

Then he leaned toward his mic, voice barely above a whisper.

"That was cute," he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Maybe I’ll let you come next time."

Then he stood up and walked away.

Leaving Y/N wrecked.

Frustrated.

And completely at his mercy.

a/n - tell me how you feel about this one :)

[verystrxxwberry]

ELDARYA; the routes’ morning routines!

♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: These headcanons do not include the routes x partner! Individual headcanons, sfw, domestic things ig? not a request ↝ 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I must say that I have no idea what kind of alarm they might use to wake up, I believe none, but since I don’t remember if it is mentioned and imagination is wild, the typical clocks will be used as alarm clocks as well. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•. ♪¸¸.•*¨*•.

EZAREL

Very dramatic during the process of waking up. The moment the clock starts doing its usual ringing, he will cry out and whine a lot until he decides to reluctantly stand up and turn off the clock in a moody way. Then he quickly goes to bed and snuggles in the warmth of his spot, whining about how he hates to work and how he’d love to keep sleeping. And even if he’s an elf and doesn’t really need to sleep, sleeping gives him 50% strength for the day. The other 50% will be during breakfast.

He wakes up at 06:00 AM, since the life in the guard requires time. Yet he always stays up, under the covers, until the clock marks it is 06:15.

06:15 AM. He calmly changes to his normal clothes, looking at some random spot of the room with his mind in blank. To wear all the shit he constantly wears over, he needs time, and patience. Ezarel doesn’t like morning showers, he prefers noon showers right after his switch is done, so he makes sure to do a dry cleaning in the morning so he can still smell good.

06:30 AM. He enters the bathroom to do his needs, wash his face and brush his teeth. He always stares at the nowhere during the morning, preferring to keep his mind resting until it is the time to use it. He doesn’t want to effortlessly tire himself by thinking of other stuff when work will tire him enough.

06:35 AM. Ezarel starts combing his hair to do his typical lazy ponytail and then goes back to his bedroom.

06:37 AM. He sits on the bed and waits until it’s 40 so he can get motivation to keep going.

06:40 AM. Alright, now he stands up and checks that he has gotten everything on himself to go to work. He then leaves towards the pantry. That is ALWAYS his first spot to fill his stomach because he cannot work without sugar early in the morning, he needs a motivation to do his job and that is… honey.

Ah, right, he NEVER makes his bed. Like, never. Unless he is doing a deep room cleaning, and he changes the sheets, but from the moment he wakes up to the moment he goes to sleep, his covers are still opened, offering him a nice spot to lie down. Why? Simply: He will undo the bed at night, when he goes to sleep again. So why would he do that effort?

From 06:50–07:10 AM he is having the best breakfast ever (in his opinion).

At 07:15 AM he is entering the Alchemy lab and checking the to-do list for the day. Then he starts working. 

Until 09:45 AM he is deeply focused on his work. Not even if there’s less work than other times, he finds the way to make himself busy with science. There are always things to do and investigate, and he enjoys it.

At 10:00 AM he takes a break to go to the pantry and have his second breakfast. It is very needed. He takes advantage of that hour to talk and play around with others, and after 10 minutes of break, he goes back to work. There are busier days in which he has to eat as he works since he is too busy, but whenever he is allowed to escape the lab, he does.

Then he goes back to work until 1 PM.

During free days he doesn’t set any alarm. Hah, to be that crazy. He sleeps until his body can’t sleep more and normally wakes up at 10:30/11:00 AM. Then he calmly does the morning routine but without going to work! Simply chilling around.

 NEVRA

When he was leader of the shadow guard, he wasn’t in a rush to wake up in labor days as his job is usually during the night, yet he had responsibilities, and he liked to keep his day free from worries. But now that he isn’t, he forces himself to get used to have a morning productivity focus, since the light guard requires full day attention. His routine over the years hasn't changed too much though, always taking care of himself to the maximum.

He naturally wakes up earlier than the clock alarm sounds, and from there, he starts his day.

His alarm is set at 06:00 AM, yet he normally wakes up 10 minutes earlier. And from there, he goes straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take an awakening morning shower. During the shower he makes sure to follow his strict hair and skincare routine, not allowing any of it to be in any bad state. That’s unacceptable.

06:28 AM. He comes out from the shower and dries himself completely. He gets dressed and adds the skincare products on his skin. It gives him so much satisfaction to feel his skin soft, he even admires how it shines from the products. He combs his hair and dries it.

06:35 AM. He is ready. Yet he stares at himself in the mirror and frowns. Then starts fighting with his hair to make it stay in place, giving up at some point when it is good enough, or he is frustrated already.

06:45 AM. He puts his favorite perfume on the best spots of his clothes and skin, also a little bit on his hair. He wants to make his scent as enjoyable as possible for everyone, even himself.

06:48 AM. He makes his bed and organizes his clothes a little to make the environment of his bedroom clean and visually satisfying.

06:55 AM. He leaves and goes directly to take a walk through the headquarters to find something to work on. Since he is a vampire, he doesn’t get hungry that much. He can enjoy meals, but he won’t get as much energy from them than blood. So I believe that there could be some blood bags in the pantry, hidden for Karenn and Nevra to take when they need some energy. But Nevra doesn’t usually need it during the morning.

07:15 - 08:40 AM. He finds himself filling some papers as he enjoys the quietness of the library, feeling pretty satisfied from the paperwork he can easily get rid off, yet the silence gets LOUD at some point and that makes him very nervous. Sitting down for hours makes him innerly energetic, so he starts planning what his training would look that day.

08:50 AM. Goes to the Pantry and takes a small blood shot for energy.

09:00-10:45 AM. He works out with other guard members. And time passes quickly with this as he has fun. Yet he finds himself sweaty after it and then goes back to his bathroom to take a quick shower, and then goes to the pantry to take a break!

11:06 AM. He is in the Pantry, cheerfully talking with his little sister and Chrome, as he drinks a blood bag to recover the energy he wasted on the work-out.

11:10 AM. Time to get back to work. And he goes to ask Huang Hua what will his tasks be during the day so he can start getting into them.

VALKYON

Sleeps like a rock, but he wakes up immediately when the alarm sounds. He gets slightly frustrated when the dream was so good and it got interrupted. He isn’t a morning person and leaving the bed is a heavy step for him, yet he is responsible for a guard and must do… what a leader must do. He has a tendency to go late to bed, but he quickly falls asleep and recovers his energy quickly.

His routine is all pretty much the same unless he is out on a mission.

06:15 AM. He goes to the bathroom and does his needs, brushes his teeth and washes his face with cold water so he can fully wake up. Then changes into comfy clothes to work out with and goes for a run.

06:30 - 07:15 AM. He is running outside the city of Eel, taking this time as a chance to release the sleepiness out of his body and start to feel energetic. Quite contradictory to be energetic when you’re tiring yourself, but doing exercise actually gives mental energy.

07:20 AM. He is back and goes to take a quick body shower. The full shower will be done at night, when he is done with sweating all he has to sweat from his job. His job requires constant physical strength, and he is too used to this that he barely sweats from doing some effort, but when he reaches his limits, he starts getting sweaty. And he likes to push his limits.

07:35 AM. He is done with the shower. He dresses up and tidies up his bedroom a little… (fixes his bed as good as he can and leaves)

07:40 AM. He has a good, filling breakfast that keeps him full for hours and also gives him vitamins and other positive chemicals to his body.

08:00–11:00 AM. He is training the members of his guard, being the good leader he is and teaching them all the good techniques, new strategies to surprise an enemy, new defense positions, new attacks from the side, with weapons, with random objects… They must be prepared for everything.

11:15 AM. He goes back to the forge and spends some hours working on sharpening weapons and creating new ones.

On free days he sleeps like a rock until his body has had enough. Yet he is a dragon and normally dragons can sleep for months or years… but not in his case! It’s ok! He has gotten used to sleep ‘normal’ hours (he’d wake up at 5 PM). Yet he spends those hours in a very productive way.

LEIFTAN

He needs to sleep his 8–10 hours so he can be fully energetic and ready to stand the next day. 07 hours and 40 minutes of sleep? Sorry, his body is noticing that. 06 hours and 58 minutes of sleep? Terrible! That’s unhealthy. He rather sleeps 09 hours and 40 minutes than less! 

He normally showers before going to bed, so he relaxes after all the day he had and goes to bed clean, ready face the best sleep he has ever had (aka every chance he has to sleep and rest because he enjoys it just as everyone does).

07:00 AM. He wakes up the moment the alarm clock sounds, stirring his arms and letting out the most melodic, sweet, sleepy hum. He stands up and opens the window immediately, letting fresh air get into his bedroom, the sunlight making him smile from its warmth. Leiftan is quite the type to try and romanticize his mornings to have any slight urge to stay alive at those hours. He takes a few deep breaths as a way to start the day with as less anxiety as possible.

07:08 AM. He starts organizing his bedroom, fixing his bed and making it look as if the best cleaning service went through it.

07:15 AM. He enters the bathroom, brushes his teeth and washes his face for a minute. Then, he changes his clothes and gets busy with braiding his hair.

07:30 AM. Puts on his sweet perfume and goes towards the pantry to have breakfast and mentally organize his day. He is usually well aware of the things he has to do during the day, yet being a guard on Eldarya meant that there would be an unexpected quest at the most inconvenient moment. And he tries to be open for those situations to happen. It is his job after all!

09:00 AM. He is bored since he has been rushing some problems before, so his spot of preference is always the library! He has read a few books during his switch and free days, knowing if there’s any newness around and knowing if there is a missing book (he always checks the list of provided books in case there is any book-thief in the city).

10:30 AM. He is taking a walk through the gardens, having kind conversations with the kids and getting a nice sunbath. He normally goes through the garden to clear his mind.

11:00 AM. He is in a meeting. He is a very responsible man!

On free days, he normally spends his mornings going for walks with himself or Lance, on the library reading or in his bedroom simply exploring new hobbies.

LANCE

He is a light sleeper, and even the smallest fly resting on his cheek could wake him up. He has never liked a routine and has always liked to improvise his day as it gets going yet being a leader of a guard now forces him to invest more effort into his routine, no matter how much he hates it or tries to stick to it. Now, his routine doesn’t change much from Valkyon’s as he is basically doing the same job.

During his free days he will do whatever he wants whenever he wants, no routines involved, or he won’t be able to rest.

06:00 AM. He groans when he hears the alarm, quite frustrated for not being able to sleep some more. He spends a few minutes staring at the ceiling and overthinking about his whole life, needing some inner courage to exit the bed. And he won’t fix his bed btw, he simply forgets about it.

06:08 AM. Exits the bed and goes to the bathroom to do his needs, brushes his teeth, zones out and sighs… damn how sleepy he is. He starts thinking about the coffee he will drink in a few minutes. He washes his face and goes back to his bedroom. 

06:16 AM. Changes his clothes and ties his hair as he can, making sure it won’t bother when he goes to train the members of his guard.

06:25 AM. Goes to the pantry and drinks the darkest coffee he can. He needs to wake up completely. I believe he is more of a picky eater than his brother, so he won’t have a breakfast filled with so many vitamins and energy in general. He’d drink an orange juice and that’s it. He likes to see how the other creatures also start they routines for work at those hours.

06:47 AM. Goes back to his bedroom to do the last needs, brush his teeth and then goes straight to the garden so he can stretch his body. He won’t have any training yet, but stretching helps him to feel more awake.

07:20 AM. Checks if Mathieu fell asleep or achieved to wake up that morning.

07:24 AM. He starts working in some paperwork there is to be filled or organized. 

08:00-11:00 AM. The training starts! And just as his brother used to do, he does the same, making sure everyone knows the perfect movements to win a fight and unexpected attacks.

11:06 AM. Goes to Huang Hua and asks what could he help with to get himself busy. Sometimes, he works on the forge, but he prefers it at noon so he can shower straight after it and go to sleep.

MATHIEU

Sets too many alarms and only his survival instinct wakes him up. When he was in earth, he settled the most disturbing sounds as an alarm, and he still needed his time to wake up. Sometimes he woke up and didn’t turn it off because he was too sleepy to move.

06:00 AM. Skipped.

06:10 AM. Skipped.

06:15 AM. Skipped.

06:20 AM. Skipped.

06:25 AM. He wakes up, yet his eyes are still closed and he is practically dozing off once again.

06… 06…. Wait… why isn’t the alarm sounding again? It is taking too much time. Is he probably… late!? Then his body fills with adrenaline and wakes up with almost a heart attack, checking the hour quickly as he sat up. It was 06:28 AM. And he is considering whatever to cry, whine against the pillow or accept that he is an adult and get going.

06:34 AM. After zoning out as he wonders what to do, he is already walking lazily towards the bathroom. He simply does his needs, washes his hands and gets on his clothes for the day. He quickly brushes his hair with his hand and that’s enough (that’s why his hair is messy most of the time).

06:42 AM. Time for breakfast! He is like a little kid who gets excited to have a bowl with milk and cereals for breakfast.

06:55 AM. He is done with breakfast and starts talking to Lance or any other creature he finds around to start activating his barely-working neuron this early in the morning.

07:10 AM. He goes back to his room, brushes his teeth and goes straight to ask Huang Chu what he should do during that day. He is like an obedient puppy and will immediately start working with whatever he got ordered with. Of course, he will whine about any difficult task he doesn’t feel like… but work is work.

07:30–11:00 AM. He simply spends the whole morning working actually! He wants to give a good view of himself and show how determined he is to place effort in a world he doesn’t belong to. Mathieu takes small breaks to hydrate himself and go to bathroom, but he is mainly focused in walking around and solving creatures’ issues! Whatever comes out, he is more than willing to solve it.

On free days… forget about him waking up from free will. He adores his bed, and adores the warmth of the covers, how the pillow adapts to the shape of his head and how cozy all of it is! Getting out from bed is like a torture for him, and avoiding it is just like a reward for him. Mathieu loves to rest as much as he can on free days.

✰; remember to reblog and like to support my content, I hope you enjoyed it!

[kedreeva]

HI!! It's the guy who asked about the medical mice stuff, I wanted to THABK YOU!! for your answers:) seriously informative and I appreciate it! I figured as much that culling is a massive part of it, instead of vet stuff, and I'm alright with that! I've familiarized myself with how important culling is, keeping the future mice as healthy and as unprone to diseases as I can is a big goal for me, I think. I currently own chinchillas and BOY I know how expensive vet treatment can get, I can only imagine how much more it'd be for tons of mice. And the hassle.

I had no idea disease testing was a thing though! That's interesting, but man that doesn't seem that.. worth it, with the points you mentioned. And sucks that most breeders will start over if most of their colony gets something Bad but I 100% understand that. I'll definitely be sure to research up more on everything to have on hand when I inevitably have to deal with mites, and I'll definitely make it a point to be very vigilant with health checks and quarantine:) and also 100% do a ton of research in getting good founders, thanking you a TON right now!! As I've mentioned before I really do want the best for these future guys

Sure no problem!

More under cut because culling discussion again

And honestly if you're starting with decent stock and being careful about quarantine for anything you add... You're really unlikely to have to cull much for health unless you get wildly unlucky. I've had these lines for a few years and the VAST majority of culls are population (males I don't need, pinks from larger litters, young females that don't get adopted before I need space again, older breeders that retire and don't get adopted etc), failure to thrive (ie, scrawny babies that just don't make it if left alive), and feeder quality mice (temperament issues). The biggest health problem I'm dealing with is when mice that have siamese/splash blood get a tumor/cyst or two as they get old. Old age masses are one of the hardest things to get rid of because you don't see them until the mouse is nearly done breeding. Outside of masses, I've had mites once (twice if you go back 25 years to college), pinworm once, and coccidia twice (once in the whole colony, once in quarantine but I still treated the whole colony just in case), one malocclusion, two head tilts (one of which was a circler), two URIs, a couple of cloudy/ulcerated eyes (can happen when they scratch themselves), and a couple penile prolapses way back at the start of the siamese line. I've had one line collapse (the tricolor line) due to bad founding animals. And that's across over two decades of breeding! And I can count them because I remember each case because it's unusual to have lots of health problems with mice, if you've been careful with initial stock, selection, and biosecurity.

What I'm trying to say is, don't be too anxious about it. While it will come up, and you'll have to deal with it harshly when it does, it's also not likely that you'll be up to your ears in health issues on a daily basis or anything.

Good luck with them and feel free to ask if you have other questions!

[aparticularbandit]

crunchyroll why do you have school days in slice of life

yes i see that it is also marked as thriller but you literally have to go to the details page to see that

otherwise you just see romance and harem and drama and like

crunchyroll it's school days how could you do this to people

it isn't just a romantic harem drama slice of life - there are probably bits like that sure but like

it's a trap

[secondbeatsongs]

going through some old logs, and I need you to understand just how truly unhinged early 2010s RP omegle was.

genuinely you could stay on there for hours with just one person, hashing out complex traumatic backstories, drawn-out love confessions, detailed action scenes...collaboratively describing graphic violence, past abuse, comfort, hurt/comfort, hurt/no comfort, any number of sex acts...and then one of you would be like, "oh haha it's 2AM! I have to sleep :(" and the other person would say, "omg saaaame. :( gnight!!!" and then you'd exit the chat and never speak to each other again, and this was. fine.

you could just spend an entire evening shoving your wretched, bleeding soul into a chat log with someone you'd never meet or learn the name of, achieve some form of emotional catharsis, and then go about your day or night like this was an average way to spend your time.

I'm really normal about this, actually

[prbywoo]

I get the whole choreography thing but I was already a fan of both chaewon and sakura since their iz*one and days and I obviously was gonna stan them. Unforgiven was a little tame compared to smart, but let me tell you people had way more sick excuses one of the many was that she was already 18 in korean age and that even if she wasn't she was gonna turn 18 soon. I actually have a song from their debut ep that I always have on repeat and that's the great mermaid it's such an amazing song and it fits their voices alot I can't imagine a group who'd sing it better than them.

And you're right about them training only 1 year together since yunjin was training with newjeans at that time and I'm pretty sure kazuha was still doing ballet and eventually suddenly joined the kpop industry as for eunchae she was training under another company and she has some predebut covers and I'm pretty sure sakura and chaewon were training together. So they didn't actually train together for long, and I'll always say this garam was one of the best at everything in the group id say interms of ranking it was chaewon, kazuha and then her,she didn't deserve what happened to her. And just like you said abt seonghwa, he brings alot to the group and is one of the members with the most verses meaning that if he was (hopefully never) leaves ateez it'll be easier for them to perform new songs instead of changing the lines for the old songs. Even tho hybe doesn't have any legal control over it's subunits they still have alot of control over what they're doing and I'm sure the contracts stated so, and the background check goes for the artists they collab with aswell, like with the whole enhypen and bella poarch isssue and a the unnecessary remixes they're doing left and right. Like it or not newjeans shifted the industry MASSIVELY just because they had an issue with their company-that they had the right of doing, doesn't mean they weren't big icons, i mean I've personally never seen such a fun and fresh concept in kpop, and even though they're known for their y2k fresh concept they've now changed their name to NJZ and hanni said that they are coming with a new concept no one has seen in the kindustry and hanni also mentioned that ador have filed two lawsuits against them.

So true I remember one time I was wondering how much staff seventeen and NCT have and how much pain they have to go through to prepare their outfits and make certain copies or pairs of the outfits incase of any accidents, it mainly started when I saw a tweet and it said these are all seventeen's luggages and it was like 30 bags and it was only the stage stuff not even their personal stuff. And same thing goes to ateez even though they're lately have been naked on stage and I'm convinced that the luggages the staff have are only for jongho, yunho, and hongjoong.

I literally talk to cahtgpt about kpop issues and problems because I have no kpop stan friends except for my cousin who only stans bts and seventeen.

I tried to get her into ateez but she got intimidated when she watched the guerilla mv especially the end screaming part, but she then had a crush on jongho when she heard his highnote in cyberpunk and wonderland but I told her to watch her back cause he's my bf(excuse for my delusions but If I can't have the real thing I can atleast imagine ✋😔😔)

I was having a bad day and decided to watch some hongjoong tiktoks until I stumbled upon this shit ass account and I'm actually so pissed

Like girl called hongjoong a gdragon wannabe, said that he's selfish, taking "opportunities" from the vocalists of the group, and that he's the one not giving lines to his members

How can people be so stupid, I mean he's still making money and doesn't care about whatever these dumb haters are saying

[bladehorror]

so for your Flight Rising ee au, what are the neotrios species?

Also could someone get Molly a cow to eat or something

To be honest I don't really think of it as an AU, since my fandragons tend to be more just a little doll collection to celebrate media i love, but I have fun thinking about some scenarios and traits the characters have as dragons, so why not?

The Southern Icefield is the furthest thing from Taiga Country in terms of politics, with their rigid laws and zero tolerance policy for nonsense, but there aren't many snowy landscapes that lend themselves to a proper adaptation. Historically, the Windswept Plateau is the most lax of the flights, but it's also. fucken wimdy. So I'm placing Sweet Jazz City somewhere in the Snowsquall Tundra, where the weather isn't as harsh but it's still snowy year-round.

I already established Molly as an Obelisk, but here are the other two. I still don't have them in my lair, those are the plans I have for them. I initially wanted to make Feenie a Tundra dragon (very friendly, notably not very smart) but despite them being my favourite breed, sadly none of my scries worked for what I had in mind for her. I think Pearlcatcher works well enough though, considering their sense of superiority and the memory Pearls they carry around. I picture the Fleecities keeping their ancestors' Pearls in a private collection somewhere in their mansion.

Trixie is a Fae dragon. Fae dragons are hard to read and perceived as stoic, because they communicate "tone" through their crests. Trixie uses that language barrier to come across as more intimidating than they really are. One thing about her is that she is a Water dragon, meaning she is meant to have access to prophecies of the God of Tides himself -- but the Tidelord vanished before she was born, which means she'd never experienced them until the events of the Unfathomable Odissey, where a group of dragons discovered and unleashed an omen of the Tidelord so STRONG every single dragon in Sornieth heard it (though only Water dragons could actually understand the words). That happened around the time Trixie was also discovering their latent ability to see ghosts. So you can imagine how confusing that must've been to them.

Oh also, fun fact: butter in Sornieth comes from snakes. That is because cows aren't real! So unfortunately Molly can't eat one. We do have goats though, so let me give her one right now: