#and then the car service getting there i felt so fancy and as the drive started the clouds were magically dissipating

[carcarrot]

this time last year i was probably sitting in the kitchen while my dad started making an early dinner of chicken bolognese trying not to get too nervous about the concert i'd be going to in a few hours

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGCHEOL INCLUDES…. — sfw

• sugar daddy or boyfriend? (the answer is both.)

• the definition of a REAL MAN. no one has ever treated you with as much respect or given you as much love as seungcheol has.

• you're his pretty little passenger princess and he's your personal chauffeur.

• mom and dad of the group, duhhhh.

• he would drop anything and everything just to give you his undivided attention, no matter how important it is.

• yes. he would still love you if you were a worm.

• he would definitely give you his bank card without a second thought. it would also be linked to your phone, he insists on you using it always and would throw a fit when you don't.

• you would also give him your card at times and he always takes it without a fight, but would never use it.

• would take you out on dates in which you can dress up pretty and maybe dine at a fancy and EXPENSIVE restaurant. don't be fooled though. he also pays attention to the little things so if you're into books, he's taking you to a library themed restaurant. if you like animals, he's booking a ticket to orlando and ya'll are going to the rainforest cafe or something.

• you would never have to lift a finger ever again.

• he would wash your car, fill it up with gas, and take it to go get serviced without any complaints.

• he would burn down the world for you.

• he always puts you first. if he had to pick between you or the company (if they ever made him choose) he doesn't even need to think, it would be you every time.

• also your body guard ! any social gathering ya'll attend, he always has his eyes on you no matter how far away you are from him.

• times in which you do drive yourself, ya'll are definitely the type of couple to have life 360 on each other. he would text you saying to slow the fuck down if you're speeding.

• no matter how much you insist he goes to sleep and no matter how late you're getting home — it could be 4 in the morning, he will ALWAYS wait up for you.

• he has the habit of buying you anything you even slightly mention. he also pays close attention to the things you look at when out shopping together and they would show up delivered to your apartment the next day. he would take the heat from you, but still would continue to spend his money on you.

• when you have a bad day, he is already there with open arms ready to give you the biggest bear hug and shield you from the rest of the world.

• whenever you two go out together, he always has a hand on your back to guide you through crowds or just so everyone knows that you're off limits.

• if you ever lose during game nights with friends or really anywhere, he would do the penalties for you!

• he always makes sure you're on the inside when walking near a street.

• if you ever doubt yourself or feel insecure, prepare for a long serious conversation with lots of tears because he WILL NOT be having any of that. no. not when he thinks you're one of the most beautiful, talented, and honorable people he knows.

• you have never felt so safe and secure than when he's around.

• he will constantly be saying "i love you." definitely the type to call you back immediately if you forget to say it and hang up.

• he has a personal agenda out for revenge against anyone who hurts or disrespects you in any type of way.

• he will be your designated driver for not only you BUT your friends as well during girl's night out.

• he may be competitive, but when it comes to you, he would let you win just so he can see a smile on your face.

• says he CAN'T (won't because he's stubborn) fall asleep if he's not cuddling you.

• he becomes the softest most kindhearted person in the world when it comes to you.

• he gets jealous easily, but he trusts you with his whole heart so he doesn't dwell on it for too long.

• when it comes to arguing, no matter if he was in the right or wrong, he is always the first to apologize. definitely the type to get you chocolate, flowers, and ALWAYS gets you a teddy bear after.

• would make you sit on his back when doing pushups or would give you a piggy back ride when he is doing pull-ups !

• he LOVES when you wear his clothes. you would always find his shirts or hoodies on your side of the closet and be like "hmm, how did this get here?" ask your boyfriend.

• rarely ever calls you by your name. always calls you baby or something cute. he also insists that you don't call him seungcheol. he will pout if you do.

• definitely impressed your parents right off the bat. your family absolutely adores him and your parents treat him like a son.

• he would tease you by giving you a hug when he's all sweaty after practice.

• he INSISTS on picking you up EVERYDAY after work.

[rensylph]

>>> 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒

< yandere zhongli x reader ( MAFIA AU ) >

You and two of your friends decided to go to a club to party and the start of your semester in the nation, teyvat. You got drunk and woke up naked in a grand mansion and a man holding your waist and nuzzling against your chest. You thought this would be a normal one night stand and will not be in contact with you but turns out the man has other plans

Warning : implied sexual intimacy, age gap, drinking

Imagine waking up in a hotel suite bigger than your apartment with someone nuzzling close to you, your clothes are scattered around the bedroom, an aching sting in your body lowest parts, a box of empty condoms And the worst hung over in your life.

When you were about to gather your clothes and leave before the person woke up, a hand grabbed your wrist preventing you.

The man has beautiful long locks of brown hair, ember eyes, handsome face features, and a well built body with tattoos of a dragon in his back and arms. Dang you struck gold.

He introduced himself as zhongli, he asked for you to stay a little longer and he will order room service

It was awkward to be honest, you did ask some questions about him but he always gives out a vague answer. As if he's trying not to reveal too much, you didn't pry about it though since he is just a one night stand plus you're in a foreign country there's a high chance you're not gonna see him anymore in the future.

He told his chauffeur to pick you up and drive you home. He seems very well known in the hotel staff every time they pass him they would greet him, it felt awkward of course.

His driver arrives and introduces himself as xiao and he opens the door to the car for you, before getting in he grab your wrist and put a note of his number saying that he had fun and wish to experience it more than one time and then he said he gotta go due to work and you get in the car.

The car ride was quiet and xiao seems to have no intention of making conversation it was just dead silent

And when you arrive at your dorm, your best friend lumine rush towards you and tackle you asking where you were, she said that when she was in the bathroom you disappeared and was entering a limo with a fine gentleman.

You didn't think much of it, since it's college and you have to focus on it. Recently many gifts and flowers were sent from mr zhongli. He even gave you an ember necklace that cost more than tuition. It was 4 million mora meanwhile your tuition cost 1 million mora.

You ask mr zhongli to please stop sending since it causes so much and you don't want to trouble but he just shrugged it off the amount saying it was a little amount and just accepted it.

I mean you do text him often talking about you guys days and meet from time to time but it's Always in fancy restaurants that always cause a fortune to have a table and reservation.

During one of these meetings he pulled out a beautiful ring with a large jade in the front with diamond encrusted around the metal, with two dragons engraving inside the metal.

He proposed saying after you graduated from college, you and him should get married. He will offer everything to you, you don't need to live in that small cramped dorm room you can live in one of his penthouses in the city, you will have xiao drive you and your friends anywhere, instead of eating cup noodles everyday and worried about money, he will have private chefs cook your favorite food as well giving you an allowance every week for you to spend, you don't need to worry about anything just said yes and he will take care of your needs.

It all moves too fast it's been only 6 months and he already wants to get married. You rejected saying that it moves too fast and say you don't see yourself being with him in the future. You said you need space and leave not before paying for your food and tipping the waitress and Mr zhongli just sit their stunt.

For the past few days after the accident you and him haven't talk in a week thinking, you're giving him space after the rejection.

Until when you were alone in the campus garden some one hugged you from behind and whispered in your ear

"if you don't follow me or obey my orders, I will kill everyone on this campus, this is your last chance to stop a massacre of your peers, this is an order "Marry me"

[the-whispers-of-death]

I've been meaning to write for Sugar Daddy!Price, so here it is. This is me caving into my personal desires.

Minors and Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact!! While this post is SFW, my blog isn't!!

Perhaps you're in need of more money because of your student debt, your inflated rent, or simply because you want to live a more lavish lifestyle. Either way, you find yourself one of those sugar baby websites, putting yourself out there for all potential sugar daddies to see.

It took you a few failed sugar daddies, who only wanted you for sex, to find John Price. He was a military man, which made you wary, but he seemed really sweet in his chats with you and the real kicker?

He didn't want you to have sex with him.

So despite your initial hesitance, you took up John's offer of going out to dinner with him to sort out all of the details of your arrangement. You put on the fanciest suit you owned, leaving the house and getting into the very nice car that John sent over to pick you up.

When you got to the restaurant, which was indeed as fancy as you thought it'd be, John was there to greet you. He hadn't yet gotten seated at the table, leading to him gently guiding you as you two followed the waiter to your table.

The hand he placed at the small of your back warmed you through your clothes, as if it was touching bare skin. His pressure was firm, but not too firm to feel as though he was the only one driving your footsteps forward. It was more protective than commanding.

"Here, let me get that for you," John murmured as he went to pull out your chair for you. Despite you both being men, he clearly seemed to still want to be a gentleman, pushing your chair in when you sat down.

He ordered the drinks, giving you the option of an alcoholic drink or a non-alcoholic one. As the waiter left you two to go over the menu after giving you your drinks, you found it was the perfect time to start the conversation.

You worried your lip briefly before speaking. "So you said you're not looking for sex, but what are you looking for?" you asked, curiosity dripping in your voice. "What does being your sugar baby entail?"

John smiled at your question, leaning back in his seat to look at you fully. "It doesn't entail much, I'm away on deployments most of the time. I just want someone to take out on dates and to be in my presence when I am home from deployments," he answered, blunt to the point where you were surprised by his honesty. "I don't expect you to only have one sugar daddy or even not have a boyfriend, though I will still pay you even if I'm on deployments, I just ask to have your attention when I am home."

"Too busy to date?" you teased, relishing in the way your comment made a mischievous glint sparkle in Price's blue eyes.

"I am too busy to date and most people don't want a partner who's away for months on end." John swiped a drop of wine off his bottom lip before it could fall, your eyes instinctively tracking the movement. He then refocused on you. "Sugar babies are much easier in that respect, I don't have to worry about someone not liking waiting for me because they're getting paid."

You took in his words, mulling it over in your mind as the waiter came back, taking your orders. You then glanced up at John, taking in his handsome features and the offer he was giving you.

It was so nice to know that even when he was going to be deployed, he'd still be sending you money. Part of you felt like you were cheating him out of a good service, but the part of you that craved the money couldn't care. He clearly didn't.

As the food arrived, you two continued to sort out everything, John writing things down for when he'd draw up a contract for you two to sign. The rest of the dinner went well and since he was paying you for this dinner, you offered to come back to his place despite the fact that there was no contract yet.

John thought it over a while before shaking his head and gently turning you down, kissing your forehead and placing you in the car. He bid you goodbye before closing the door, signaling to the chauffeur to drive you back home.

You had a feeling being John's sugar baby would be interesting to say the least.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

[solomons-finest-rum]

Welcome back! I have been enjoying your writing but never sent you request before. Would you write maybe Alfie and a younger reader and he likes her. He wants to marry her but she is not ready so he tells her he would wait forever and it's really sweet and patient. something like that I don't know. you can decide if you like it. Thank you!

“Libretto” — (Alfie Solomons x fem!Reader)

SUMMARY — Age difference between you be damned, Alfie was quite happy to wait for you forever.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Thank you so much for the request! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ Feedback is always much appreciated.

WORD COUNT — 1,678

Masterlist

The first time you met Alfie Solomons was purely an accident. At least, you had to lie and swear to the police that it had all been an accident, if only in order to wriggle yourself out of getting arrested.

Now, had you known the man you nearly ran over with your brother’s car was the gangster boss of Camden Town, you could have been persuaded to drive a little more carefully. Especially since the car had been “borrowed” as well.

But, of course, how could you have known? Which was precisely the reason why the first words you uttered to the man were:

“Watch where you’re fucking going!” 

All due credit to Alfie Solomons, he couldn’t have been more shocked.

Now, you have to understand that a man like Alfie Solomons, a particularly dangerous man like Alfie Solomons, usually wasn’t shocked by much. It was not every day, however, that he met a girl with eyes so full of rage, driving a fancy Bentley so obviously outrageous and most likely stolen. It was more than enough to get his interest.

“Well?!” you shouted again as you got out of the car. 

It wasn’t until two police officers approached you, however, that you changed your tune. Immediately spotting your confusion, it was time for Alfie to enter the game.

“Alright, Mr. Solomons?” one of the policemen asked, feigning concern, though both of them were so obviously in Alfie’s pocket that they would have arrested you on the spot—had Alfie still not been so mesmerised by your outburst. And so, to your astonishment, they simply awaited his orders.

To Alfie’s absolute delight, you tried your best not to show how scared you were at that moment, so Alfie took his sweet fucking time before saying:

“Right, gentlemen, thank God you’re here, ‘cause there I was, mindin’ me own business, yeah, an’ there she comes, driving like the Devil’s on her tail, hair a mess—!”

“I beg your pardon, my hair is not a mess!”

“Right now it is, yeah.”

“No, it is not!”

“Are ya suggestin’ I should lie about what I saw, Miss?”

“So you… want us to arrest the lady, sir?” one of the policemen interrupted that exchange, incredulous at the interaction between you and Alfie. 

It served Alfie right, however, since his reputation had always been one to take care of the women in his community. As things were between him and the law, that charity probably remained the only thing between him and the noose.

“Nah, ‘course not,” Alfie waved his hand dismissively. “She’s clearly in a hurry, ain’t ya, luv?” Alfie asked you, with a smirk so devious you felt your cheeks going hot.

“Yes,” you said meekly, then saw Alfie make a face to encourage you to keep going. To spin the tale. 

“I… You see, it’s my grandmother,” you said smoothly and Alfie’s smirk only grew. “That’s my brother’s car, he let me borrow it to fetch the doctor. It’s consumption, you see. Overtakin’ her as we speak.”

As the cherry on top, you stifled a fake sniff.

“Now you see, gentlemen, it’s a case of utmost emergency!” Alfie shouted, waving his cane about and obviously taking great pleasure in participating in your lie. “Thank you for your service, lads, there ya go.” 

As the policemen gladly accepted a not-so-discreet bonus to their payment, you saw your chance and started to get back to the car.

But you thoroughly underestimated Alfie’s game.

“There now, I’ll drive ya, luv, you can never be too careful in these parts,” he said and quickly, quicker than you anticipated for the man, he made himself comfortable in the driver’s seat.

“Wouldn’t want any more accidents on the way, now would we, luv?” Alfie grumbled as he promptly handed you his cane and proceeded to fumble with the breaks and the accelerator as if he was trying to tame the car, not run it.

“There we go,” he announced as the engine sputtered and roared and you two sped along the street in a no less reckless manner than you had been driving before.

“Watch out!” you shrieked as Alfie almost drove straight into a flower cart on the corner.

“Don’t worry, luv, I know the way!” Alfie replied, then made a sharp turn towards London Bridge.

“You do?!”

“Right, not exactly, no, but it’s plain as day you’re not from Camden, luv.”

“What gave it away…” you sniped. 

“Now, don’t get cocky, right, ya still almost ran me over an’ I have to tell ya, luv, that takes balls, right! ‘Cause as things stand, the bounty for me is as high as they go.”

You paled at the notion and when Alfie glanced at your expression in between the turns, he roared with laughter.

“Naaah, luv, don’t be like that! Just pullin’ your leg.”

“Very funny.”

“I like to think so, yeah.”

Obviously too pleased with himself to notice, Alfie missed you paying close attention to the cane you were still holding. It was definitely heavy and so well-used that you had trouble distinguishing what used to be the shape of its head.

“Right, seein’ as you almost ended me on my own bloody street, luv, you might as well give me your name,” Alfie interrupted your musings, not too pleased about your close inspection of his personal belongings (even though the contradicting bastard gave it to you for self-keeping himself).

But you gave him your name regardless and he remarked he thought it pretty. When you also gave him your address, he drove you straight home and even got out first to open the door for you. You thanked him quickly for what you supposed was straight up hijacking the car, but seeing as you had done so first to your brother, you thought the deeds even. You only prayed no one would see you with Alfie through the window. You knew your sisters would never let you forget it had they seen you two together.

You couldn’t have known that wouldn’t be the last time you saw Alfie Solomons. Somehow throughout the following weeks you seemed to have more chance encounters together than the Fates could possibly allow.

He was always pleasant about it, though, and sometimes even brought you flowers. Then he started buying you lunches and somehow it turned into a little tradition just between you two. You ate lunch together every Thursday.

You weren’t stupid of course, you knew what Alfie was after, but truth be told… You wouldn’t exactly mind giving it to him.

He never outright proposed, but he hinted at marriage enough times that it became just one more piece of the regular fun little puzzle between you.

“An’ how’s my favourite girl this mornin’?” he would ask you when he met you for a stroll.

“Very well, thank you, Alfie,” you’d reply, your tone thoroughly overdone on the casual side. 

“Not too cold?”

“No.”

“Not too hungry?”

“Don’t think so.”

“So how ‘bout you marry me today, luv?”

“Oh, I can’t, Alfie!” you giggled as you looped your arm through his and let him lead you around the park. “I’m—”

“Right, let me guess,” he smirked. “Got my shirt inside out again?”

“No, the shirt is very clean today. That’s very unlike you.”

“Well, that’s a first.”

“Well, I told you not to fire your housekeeper, haven’t I?” 

“Yeah, no harm done, I offered that old bat her bloody job back,” he grumbled and you giggled again.

“You’ll thank me later, Alfie.”

“I’m sure I won’t, luv.”

“You’re one stubborn man, d’you know that?”

“Yeah, can’t say I’ve never been told that one before.”

“So why can’t I marry you today, Alfie? You promised to guess.”

“Right, how’s about you’re too cold?”

“No, the weather’s quite nice.”

“Too hot?”

“Not really.”

“Too old?”

“Close.”

“Too young?”

You paused and so did he, because he somehow sensed this time it wasn’t just a game between you two. This time it wasn’t just banter; it was real.

“Luv, if I’m makin’ you do anythin’ you wouldn’t want to—”

“No!” you interrupted that train of thought as quickly as possible and took his hand in yours. “No. It’s just that… I don’t think I’m ready to be a wife, yet.”

“Right, in what way?”

“In… In every way, I suppose. I have no idea about running a household or ironing shirts or…”

“Right, thankfully yours truly has already been told he’s a slob.”

“Alfie, this is serious!”

“Right.”

He looked at you expectantly. You still haven’t let go of his hand, which he thought was rather promising.

“I just think I’d make a lousy wife, Alfie.”

“Yeah, that’s that then, luv, right, ‘cause look at the pair of us, I’d be a real lousy husband.”

That got him another giggle out of you, which he thought might have boosted his chances a little.

“Luv, if your parents don’t approve—”

“My parents don’t give two shits, Alfie, I’m not a princess or an heiress,” you chuckled. “I have two younger sisters and two brothers, as far as my chances stand I’d be happy if I scored a baker or some sort.”

“Right, funny you should say that…”

“A front doesn’t count, you madman!”

Even though you knew you crossed a line there by the way he looked around you two, he never did anything to chastise you or show his disapproval at the revelation you just uttered at full volume. In a way, it already told you everything there was to know about the man, had his previous behaviour not been proof enough that he cared about you a great deal.

You already knew you wanted to marry him, age difference between you be damned. So what were you so afraid of exactly?

“Luv, you already know I’m happy to wait for you forever if—”

You shook your head and got on your tiptoes to kiss him mid-speech, since you already knew that a speech was coming. The answer was, with Alfie by your side, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Sangwoo Oh x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I'm sorry. [ SYNOPSIS ] Desperate for guidance you turn to your parish's beloved priest. [ WORD COUNT ] 5.2k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, modern AU, y/n wears a dress, sacrilege (I sexualize Saint Sebastian among other things), violence, gore, noncon, sadomasochism, oral sex (m + f receiving), facial, vaginal fingering, virginity loss, alcohol, drugging, manipulation, gaslighting, degradation (he calls you a bitch and a slut), strength kink, size kink, creampie, blood, cannibalism, murder.

Mass was the only thing you looked forward to. All week you would anxiously await Sunday morning, unable to sleep. Sitting in the pews, hanging on your priest’s words was the only time you felt even a modicum of joy. It was a sanctuary, a place untainted by the trappings of the world.

The world was cruel and unforgiving, secular and obscene, a temptress. It stirred up the wanton feelings you tried to keep buried. Its lax rules and unrestrained passions marred you, kept you away from God’s shining light. However you never considered yourself wholly devoted to God; your relationship was always on shaky ground. Even as a kid you doubted your place in the church. The darkness lurking inside you convinced you that you weren’t worthy.

Your love of your family trumped your love of Christ. You coveted the riches of your neighbors, their fancy cars and their fashionable yet tasteful clothing. You were lazy, haunted by the illnesses you feigned as a child so you could miss school. You felt envious of your peers. Being a good Catholic came so naturally to them. Why was it such a struggle for you? Why were you cursed to wrestle with Satan?

For the longest time you kept your struggle to yourself. Sometimes you even fantasized about leaving it all behind. God wouldn’t miss a heathen, especially one constantly fighting the disgusting beast inside them. There was no point of keeping up the charade if you were so bad at it.

But that all changed when Father Sangwoo took over your parish. He was young for a priest, maybe a few years older than you at most. You constantly found yourself gazing at him during service. His voice was deep and reassuring. He was tall and had broad shoulders. He was an image of perfection, though he did look perpetually sleep deprived. His beauty was enough to make you recommit yourself to the Lord.

This revived fervor came with a new shade of self-loathing. You spent every Saturday night fingering yourself and whimpering his name. Lusting after a priest was unforgivable. But you couldn’t help it; you were insatiable.

This loathed hunger gave you the courage to linger around after mass though, your eyes fixed on Father Sangwoo. You never uttered a word or even approached him. You knew you’d end up saying something stupid. Lurking was the only intimacy you could handle. Having his direct attention would be agonizing. It’d bring you to your knees.

Usually you were content with this arrangement, but sitting in the back of the pews while two women preened him was driving you crazy. One fastened a loose button on his shirt. Another plucked a stray hair off his shoulder. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palm. They didn’t deserve to touch him.

You were so absorbed by your silent rage you didn’t notice him staring back at you. You flinched as your eyes met his. You tried to get up, but nearly tripped over your own foot. Your face was hot as you escaped, baptized by the crisp morning air.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” one of the women said in a sing-song voice as she brushed past you.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” you repeated under your breath mockingly.

A weighty hand grabbed a hold of your shoulder, pulling you out of your hateful haze.

“What was that?” Father Sangwoo asked, freezing you on the spot.

Your nerves got the better of you and you laughed. “It was nothing.”

You turned around to face him. He tilted his head to the side, his concerned look left you feeling exposed. It was as if he could see through you, like he could peel back whatever lies you were desperately trying to craft.

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Well that was obvious. But you didn’t answer my question. What were you saying?” he asked with a smile.

We’ll see you next Sunday, Father. You repeated the words over and over in your head, trying to conjure up a sentence that had a similar ring to it. It was maddening. Nothing came to mind. It was as if you had never spoken in your life.

“I… I said… I was saying—”

“Father!” an old woman shouted as she scurried out of the church. “There’s a bat in there!”

“Not again,” he sighed.

You went to leave but he latched onto your wrist. His grip made your joints pop.

“I’ve noticed you hanging around after service. It has me a little concerned.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh tha—that’s because I’m waiting for my ride.”

“Then why do I always see you walking down to the bus stop?”

“That’s where they get me!” you said, trying to pull your wrist out of his hand.

“That doesn’t explain why you look so miserable all the time.”

“Miserable?” you repeated in a small voice, finally freeing yourself from his grasp.

You felt ill. You always assumed you kept your anguish hidden on Sundays.

“I only noticed because I feel like that more often than not. If you ever need someone to talk to that understands, I’m here for you.”

It sounded strangely rehearsed, like he was acting in a play. But that could have been because speaking to him felt unreal. You never planned on getting this close to him.

“Father! The bat!!” the old woman called out impatiently.

“I’m on it!” He turned his attention back towards you, his gaze gentle. “Why don’t you come by the rectory tonight?”

“Me?”

He nodded. “You deserve my full attention.”

“I do?”

He patted you on the head. “Yes. I want to help you in any way I can. I hate to see any of my children so upset.”

“Fa—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he replied, disappearing into the church.

You stood, mouth agape. He had noticed you. This whole time he knew you were hanging around like a kicked puppy, watching him with sad eyes. You felt so exposed. But a part of you was elated. He wanted to be there for you. It was like a dream come true despite the anxiety it agitated.

The day crawled by. You felt like time slowed down to spite you. You paced around, practicing what you were going to say. Making a fool of yourself wasn’t an option. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you messed everything up.

Once the sun began to set you started to get ready. You dug through your closet, desperate to find something cute and modest. You weren’t planning on seducing Father Sangwoo or anything; you just wanted to look your best. You decided your best option was a black denim pinafore dress cut at the knee with a boxy white t-shirt underneath. Not too flashy, but not too matronly.

You took the last bus. It was a risky move, but you planned on asking him to drive you home after your talk. There was no way he’d say no. You’d be stranded without his assistance. Plotting to take advantage of his kindness felt bad, but you were greedy. The more time around him the better.

“Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid,” you chanted on your way up the hill.

Seeing the rectory made your stomach hurt, nerves once again getting the better of you. You stood in front of it for several minutes before you found the brave to knock on his door.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” he said.

The sunset’s warm light made him look angelic. His hair was damp, towel dried by the looks of it. He was dressed incredibly casual in a cozy, chunky sweatshirt and a pair of low hanging sweatpants. You struggled not to stare at the deep, muscular v-cut of his abs.

“You didn’t specify a time so I, uh, just left when it felt night-ish.”

“I said seven o’clock.”

He was lying. You remembered how he proposed. His wording was vague.

“No. You definitely said night.”

The warmth left his eyes, but he maintained his cheery disposition. “I don’t need you telling me what I said.”

You couldn’t imagine why he’d lie about something so benign. Maybe he did say seven and you couldn’t remember. You were pretty on edge during your conversation. It would make sense that your recollection would be tenuous.

You stared at your feet. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he let you inside.

The rectory was sparsely decorated. You would never expect a man of God to have lavish material possessions, but Father Sangwoo’s home was barren. There was nothing on the walls except for a wooden crucifix over what you assumed was the door to his bedroom.

It smelled fetid, absolutely reeking of cigarettes. The walls were stained a nauseating yellow. Everything looked worn. You wondered if maybe the furniture was handed down from the previous priest. You tried to not let it phase you, but you couldn’t help but be alarmed by the chef’s knife stabbed into his dining room table. It was sticking straight up, erect in its posture.

“Take a seat.”

His couch sat low to the ground and was woefully uncomfortable. There were cigarette burns in the cushions which you willed yourself to ignore. In front of it was a round wooden table with a dying succulent in the middle. 

He took a seat beside you, his body broaching your personal space. “So,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”

“Um. Where do I begin…”

“I don’t know. Maybe the beginning.”

His tone was still sweet, but there was a bite to it. He was probably just trying to be funny, but you didn’t feel familiar enough with him to joke around like that.

“I’ve never felt as close to God as I should.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know.” You paused; you couldn’t remember any of the things you had rehearsed earlier. “I’ve never felt good enough. I feel… unworthy. I want to be closer to God, but I don’t deserve it.”

He frowned. “What makes you think you don’t deserve it?”

Your palms were clammy. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“I—uh. It’s like… I just—”

“You need to loosen up,” he interrupted.

You felt ashamed for being so uptight. He looked so bored by you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he sighed as he got up.

Your heart was in your throat as he walked past the knife. For a brief moment you had the clearest image of him grabbing it and lunging at you. You felt so guilty when he left it alone.

He came back with two shot glasses and a sizable bottle of soju. He lazily shook the bottle before cracking it open.

“Grab a glass.”

You looked at the shot glasses on the table. One looked dustier than the other. You went to grab the cleaner looking one.

“Not that one.”

You grabbed the other glass. You looked at the bottom of the glass and saw what looked like powder.

“It looks a little dirty,” you said, holding it out.

He glanced at it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Really? It—”

“Do I look like someone that would offer a guest a dirty glass?” he laughed.

You shook your head and watched him fill it. Your cheeks felt hot.

“This is my first time,” you blurted out.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m the perfect person to break you in.”

You laughed nervously and tried to avert his gaze. It was like having a spotlight on you. The glass felt so heavy in your hands. You weren’t sure how to wield it. You never saw your parents drink alcohol, excluding the Eucharist. There was no point of reference so you knocked it back in one gulp.

It didn’t taste nearly as bad as you were expecting. It was crisp with a faint sweetness. The finish was bitter. You felt like something had coated your mouth. You didn’t like it.

“Impressive,” he said smiling. “Have another.”

You held out your glass and watched him pour you another drink. You drank it just as fast the first time. You were pleased that aftertaste was pleasantly astringent rather than bitter. You went to set your glass down, but he poured you another drink. You didn’t want to be impolite so you accepted it.

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

“I will when you pour me some.”

You wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you said, taking the bottle from him. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Your hands trembled as you served him. It didn’t help that he was watching you so intently.

“That’s obvious.” He took a sip and set the glass down. “Now tell me why you don’t deserve to be close to God.”

“I’m a bad person. I mean, maybe I’m not. But I feel like I am. I’m jealous of everyone. And nothing makes me happy so I just never do anything… which makes me feel worse. I don’t know. I feel like I’m bad at loving God and cherishing his gifts no matter how hard I try. And—this is so ridiculous—but If I can’t be the best at it, why even bother?”

“That is ridiculous,” he said, pouring you another shot.

“I know. I know. And that’s why I never wa—wanna talk about it. It’s so stupid. It’s not a competition. I tell myself that all the time, but it doesn’t stop me from comparing myself to others. It makes me wanna give up. But I’d feel so lost without the church and the world is so… overwhelming. I get swept up in the temptations. I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough to leave. Not strong enough to survive. I’m stuck.”

“Temptations? Like what exactly?”

You swallowed hard. “Uh. Um. You know… people.”

He poured you another shot. You drank it down happily, but noticed he still hadn’t finished his.

“They’re…” You let out an embarrassed laugh. “I get urges.”

He smirked. “Everyone has those.”

“Do you?”

“I said everyone, didn’t I?”

Your cheeks were on fire. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, but your arms were too heavy.

“What do you do about these urges?” he asked.

“Father, I’m not sure we should talk about that.”

“I can’t help you if you keep things for me.”

“… I don’t act on them. I wanna wait until I’m married. But… sometimes at night I…I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

He leaned in. “You touch yourself, don’t you?”

You started feeling woozy. “I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know what else I’m su—supposed to do.”

“You can always find someone else to do it for you.”

“Isn’t that even worse?” you slurred.

“It depends on the person.”

He put his hand on your thigh. Your head was swimming. Your body felt heavier by the second. It was like you were slowly descending into an abyss. He slipped his hand under your dress. You closed your thighs and cursed the wet spot blossoming between your legs. You didn’t want this. Fantasizing was one thing. Living them out was terrifying. If you fooled around with a priest, you would burn in Hell for eternity.

You tried to brush his hand away. “Don’t.”

“Shssh. Let me help you.”

He lifted up your dress and opened your thighs. You winced as he rubbed the wet patch on your underwear.

“I’m serious. Stop.”

“Don’t be a tease.”

“We’re not allow—”

“Who fucking cares,” he cooed as he forced his hand under your underwear. “Just relax.”

“Father, please.”

He spread apart your folds and slipped his fingers inside you.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, your body tensing up.

He ignored you and rubbed your clit. You hated how good it felt. It made the pain of having his fingers inside you a little bearable, but still the inherent wrongness of it all weighed on you. You tried to keep quiet, but a breathy moan fell from your lips as he applied more pressure.

“Who would you imagine touching you?”

“I don—I don’t wanna say…'' you drawled.

You were losing your grip.

“Quit being a bitch and tell me,” he demanded as he fingered you.

He curled his fingers inside you, grinning as you gasped.

“You.”

He smirked. “Aw. This must be a dream come true then.”

Your body was getting limper by the second. Staying conscious was barely possible. You writhed against the couch as he thrust his fingers deep inside you. You arched your back and rolled your hips against them. You wondered if this was God punishing you for not being devout.

“Look at how easily you’re falling apart.”

You cursed your body for betraying you. 

“Don’t. Please,” you begged.

“You think you get to act like a slut and tell me no?”

Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes. You felt like an idiot for crying.

“I’m… I’m s—so sorry, Father.”

“It’s okay.” He wiped away one of your tears. “I forgive you for tempting me.”

He was knuckles deep in your cunt and showed your clit no mercy.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

He smirked and pulled you into a kiss. His mouth tasted like cigarettes. You thought about pulling away, but things weren’t so bad now that he couldn’t berate you. It was kind of nice actually. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He bit down on your bottom lip before brushing his tongue along the tender skin. You opened your mouth and rolled your tongue against his. You had no idea what you were doing and prayed you were doing a good job.

“Father,” you whimpered. “I don’t feel so good.”

You felt yourself losing consciousness. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“You’re fine,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck. “It’s okay.”

You tried to speak, but all you could do was groan. He sunk his teeth into your neck and you drifted away.

A stinging pain roused you from your daze. You didn’t know where you were or how you ended up there. You could barely open your eyes; it was as if they were glued shut. It was such a simple act, but for some reason it was a herculean effort. Your body felt like lead and your head was throbbing.

You felt a cool breeze against your skin, stronger than a fan or air conditioning. You fought to lift your head, but all you managed to do was roll it slightly to the side, your chin pressing against your chest. You groaned and tried to will yourself out of your haze.

God must have taken pity on you because like clockwork your eyes sprung open. Unfortunately what roused you was the sting of something penetrating your ribs. It was the kind of pain that came on sharp and fast, and radiated through your body.

You groaned and tried to focus. The world was a blur, the light blinding. You were freezing and sore. You tried to swat away whatever had penetrated you, but your arms were bent back and tied at the wrists. All you could do was writhe.

You looked down and saw your body, unclothed and bruised. You choked on your breath when you noticed two wooden arrows jutting out of your thigh. Your stomach was in your throat. You could barely shriek as another arrow whizzed past your ear.

“Whoops.” It was a low voice, eerily familiar. “Don’t move around so much.”

The saccharine tone made you sick. Spit pooled in your mouth. You finally found the strength to lift your head. Your eyes met his. You recognized him. No, you knew him. 

“Good morning,” Father Sangwoo said, shooting another arrow at you. It pierced the soft skin of your underarm.

“STOP!” you screamed. “What are you doing?!”

Stomach acid inched up the back of your throat.

He smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You spat at the ground before shaking your head. You couldn’t make sense of anything. The muscles in your shoulders felt like they were on fire. You must’ve been tied up for hours.

You turned your head to the right and saw a dense forest of red pines.

You inhaled sharply. “Why ar—”

He sighed and set his bow down gently. His looming figure made his way over, dread pooling in your stomach. His steps were slow and deliberate. His lips curled into a smirk. He grabbed you by the hair and forced you to look at him.

“Why all the dumb questions?”

“M—my rib—”

He glanced at the arrow sticking out of your ribs. “What about them?”

“Hurts,” you choked out through gritted teeth.

“C’mon. It didn’t even go in that deep.”

He yanked it out. A stream of warm blood flowed from the wound. All you could do was shriek.

“Yell all you want,” he said, licking your blood off the tip. “It’s not like anyone’s around to hear you.”

You decided to take a chance and kept screaming. Your voice cracked as you called out for help. At first he seemed amused, but his expression soon changed to one of disgust and boredom.

“Are you done? Did you get it out of your system?”

You let out one last anguished cry before settling down. Your throat ached.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. You agreed to this last night.”

You sniffled. “I would never agree to something like this.”

He laughed. “Oh, really? You told me I could while I was filling your ass with my cum. Or at least I think you did. You were saying a lot of weird shit.”

“You’re lying!”

“So what if I am? It’s not like me telling the truth is going to help you.”

His cock was hard, fighting against the cloth of his sweatpants. You started to sob.

“Please just let me go.”

“Why would I do that? You’re my little crybaby.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I won’t say anything,” you pleaded.

You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth. You desperately tried to ignore the searing pain of the arrows.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not letting you go.”

You fought against the rope tying you to the tree. You wanted to kick his teeth in. Your fear had mutated into a fury like no other.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Alright. I’ll let you go.”

He quickly untied your arms. The relief was immense. You could have sworn angels were singing as your shoulders finally relaxed. As you sunk down into the ground he pulled out his erect cock.

“But you gotta suck me off first.”

You immediately opened your mouth. You’d do anything to get out of there.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking his shaft.

It was long and veiny, the slit dripping precum. He guided it into your mouth, groaning as you struggled to take it in. Tears ran down your cheeks and you choked.

“Breathe through your nose.”

You heeded his advice and it helped a little. You were too weak to bob your head so he held the base of your skull and gently thrusted against it. Anytime his cock slipped down your throat you gagged. He looked so smug as he stared down at you, grinning as you struggled to suck.

“You’re so pathetic,” he said as he rutted against your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute or else it’d be annoying.”

You whimpered.

“Is it too much for you?”

He pushed you off of his cock. A thin string of drool clung to it, connecting your mouth to his tip.

“Mhm,” you answered feebly.

“Really? Do you wanna stop?” 

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re rejecting me? That doesn’t make me feel good considering I listened to you bitch about your life last night. You should be kinder to your host. Didn’t your family teach you any manners?”

“I—But you said you were going to help—”

He laughed. “What is it with you and telling me what I said? You keep doing that and I’m gonna have to bash your skull in.”

Your eyes were so wide you thought they were going to fall out of your head. You refused to believe this was happening. You pretended like you were anywhere else. You tried to ignore the cold breeze pricking your skin, the blood drying on your body, how exposed you felt, and most of all you tried to ignore Father Sangwoo.

“Don’t look so scared.”

You shut your eyes and thought about your warm bed. Your cat was probably curled up at the foot of it, waiting for you to come home and feed him. All it did was make you cry harder. You should have kissed his little forehead before you left. But you were in such a rush, too eager to meet up with the Devil himself.

“Hey.” He kicked you with his bare foot. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

“What?” you sniffled.

“You look terrified. You should smile.”

Your expression didn’t change.

“Do you wanna live?”

You nodded.

“Then smile!” he cheered.

You grimaced.

“Perfect,” he said as he jerked off.

You sat there, grinning like an idiot and trying to ignore the immense pain you were in. He looked down at you with a predator’s gaze, teeth biting into his bottom lip. His breathing grew shallow and he tossed his head back as his cum splattered against your face.

“Do you feel blessed?” You didn’t, so you chose not to answer and kept smiling. He kicked you again. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl,” he said. “You look cold. I think you’ve earned going inside.”

He took his time pulling the arrows out of you, talking about how badly he wanted to fill your wounds with his cum. He assured you he was kidding, but gave you absolutely no reason to believe him. How could trust someone so duplicitous?

He carried you like a bride through the red pines. He did it with such ease; it made your heart flutter. You were still terrified, but you clung to him. You imagined you were in the arms of someone else, someone that wouldn’t call you names and maim you.

“How much further?” you asked. The forest seemed to have no end.

“I wouldn’t be in a rush if I were you.”

“I’m ju—just really cold.”

He kissed your cheek and assured you it wouldn’t be much longer.

When you reached the grounds, he went in the opposite direction of the rectory.

“Why—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The church wasn’t much warmer than outside. You actually felt less comfortable. You knew you were going to Hell. There was no escaping your fate at this point. You buried your face in his neck.

He laid you down on the altar. A clear plastic tarp was draped over it. It stuck to your grimy, bloody skin. You attempted to cover your chest with your aching arms.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest now,” he said as he got undressed. “I’ve already seen everything.”

“Not in here,” you said weakly.

He rolled his eyes and spread apart your legs. He positioned himself between them and ran his tongue down your folds. Your toes curled as he kissed your clit. His gaze never left yours. He took in every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. You found yourself enjoying the bliss of his kiss and the pain radiating from your wounds.

“Father,” you mewled as you ran your fingers through his hair.

It was so soft. You twirled a strand between your fingers as he feasted on your dripping cunt. You rolled your hips against his face, surrendering yourself to euphoria. He kissed the inside of your thigh before biting into your tender flesh. You winced as he applied more and more pressure. His teeth broke through your skin. You tried to push him away, but you were too weak.

The pain was indescribable. You would have rather he shot you with more arrows. His teeth dug further into your thigh and he pulled away with your flesh between his teeth. Blood poured from the newfound wound.

You watched in horror as he swallowed. You looked at your thigh and shrieked when you saw the chunk he took out of you.

“What?” he asked as he lapped at the blood spilling out.

You tried to get up but he held you in place.

“Please stop! I’ll do anything!”

He ignored you and bit down on another part of your thigh.

“Just let me go! I won’t say anything! You’ll never see me again! I’ll leave you alone! I promise! I swear to God!”

He ripped off another piece of flesh. Your blood covered the bottom half of his face. He looked like a wild animal. He crawled back on top of you, his face unbearably close to yours.

“You should be honored,” he cooed.

You tried to wriggle away from him, but he was too strong.

“I usually don’t do this, but fuck. You’re so pure. I need you to be a part of me.”

All you could do was weep.

“Hush. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” he consoled as he forced his cock inside you. “Jesus Christ, you’re so tight.”

He began to thrust. He clenched his jaw and rutted against your limp body. You watched as his cheeks turned pink and his brows knitted together in rapturous agony.

“I couldn’t throw you away like the others. You’re such a precious, little thing.” He kissed you. “I needed more time with you. I thought about snapping your neck last night, but that would’ve been such a waste. You deserve better.”

You felt so small underneath him.

“Fuck! If I could keep you I would, but that’d be too complicated.”

“So yo—you’ll let me go?”

“Huh?” He moaned as his cock hit your cervix.

“After this… you’ll let me go home?”

He burst out into laughter. “What? Are you a fucking idiot? Of course I’m not letting you go home.”

“Then please keep me! I won’t cause you any problems! I won’t say anything to anyone! I’ll do whatever you want! Just please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die!”

“Wouldn’t death be better than being miserable all the time?” he asked, stroking your cheek. “Think about it. It would solve all your problems.”

“No, it wouldn’t! I don’t wanna give up. Please just let me live.”

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’m sorry,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Your death won’t be in vain or anything.” He picked up the pace. It felt like his cock was going to split you in two. “I promise I’ll put your body to good use.”

“Father—”

“Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth. “I’m gonna come.”

He filled your cunt to the brim with his cum. He held your body close to him and pressed his forehead against yours. You lost all hope. There was no escape. You had completely resigned yourself to your fate. All you could do was hope his hand would be swift, and you wouldn’t suffer much.

[squishpies]

~I fell in love with a war~

Sanzu x reader - Angst (cheating)

It was a nice spring day, and you were walking down the street to your local store to find some snacks.

You then noticed your phone started to ring, you picked up to see your boyfriend, Sanzu calling.

"Hey babe, I'm not gonna be home later tonight, I have some business to attend to." He said, sounding like he was in a real pickle,

"Oh.. okay, I'll see you later then.." You replied, sounding sad.

You hung up, and then walked into the store, then grabbed a few snacks and paid, then left.

*A few hours later*

You walked into your shared apartment and took in the scenery, as you saw keys on the kitchen counter, which were your boyfriends.

"It's been a few hours since he was gone, how couldn't of he come back and grabbed them?" you asked yourself, picking them up.

You then decided to try and track him down, so that you can hand him his keys.

You walk out the door and open your tracker app to see your boyfriend was at an unknown location. You get in your car and drive off to where the location takes you. It stops at a fancy hotel, and you feel unsure about yourself, because there was only so very much few cars in the parking lot. As you walk in the hotel employee greeted you.

"Hello, do you have a reservation?" the employee asked, smiling at you.

"Is there a reservation under the name Sanzu?" you asked, looking unsure of yourself.

The hotel employee looked straight at the computer lying in front of them and started tapping away. "Yes, it is, room 204."

You thanked them and headed straight for the elevator, then you pressed the '2' button.

You arrived and ran down the hall and found the room, you stood infront of it as regret filled your senses.

You turned your hand into a fist as you prepared to knock on the door. You hesitated before knocking.

You heard rustling and you instantly felt nauseous. The door suddenly opened, and and there was a tall, gorgeous blonde female, she had pink lingerie on.

"Yes, are you room service?" she asked, looking you up and down.

"N-No, I came here because apparently my boyfriend is here, according to my tracker." You said, unsure of yourself.

The tall woman looked at you with worried eyes, "W-Well, I don't think your boyfriend is here, maybe he is in another room.. the system probably got messed up.." she replied, looking at the ground.

All of a sudden you heard footsteps behind you.

"Y/N..? What are you doing here?" Sanzu said, looking at you with a shocked expression on his face.

The tall woman suddenly closed the door shut and locked it, so nobody could open it.

"What.. What are you doing with that woman, Sanzu?" You asked, looking up at your boyfriend, you could tell he was guilty of something.

"I..I was taking care of a business proposal. I'm sorry Y/N, you wouldn't understand." Sanzu replied, looking at you and frowning.

"I know you slept with that woman.." You replied, with a saddned face.

Sanzu looked away from you, I..I'm sorry Y/N. I am."

"Why would you do this to me? All I've given you is love and support. And you cheat on me?"

Sanzu didn't reply he just looked down at the floor in embarrassment as you continued to yell at him.

He suddenly got a call and took the opportunity to run away.

You started to cry and ran out the hotel, as you got into your car and drove off.

You arrive at your apartment, and you run to your room and continued crying.

12 years later

You wake up and remembered you had to attend a meeting with a gang in your in, you hurried to get dressed and headed straight out the door.

Your leader, Mikey, had recently called you to inform that you must attend the meeting since you are new, so you can meet everyone.

You rush to the meeting site as you see Mikey there already.

"Welcome Y/N, the members will arrive here sooner or later." Mikey said, looking up at you with his black soulless eyes.

"Okay." you said as you sat down next to him, awaiting your co-workers arrival.

The first one was two tall men, they are called "the haitani brothers".

The second one was a man with black hair and a wicked scar on his face, his name is kakucho.

Then another man came, he was gorgeous and he looked very familiar.

"It appears that everyone who could attend is here." Mikey said, looking around the room. "We have a new member, this is Y/N."

The familiar mans face dropped, he looked like he saw a ghost.

[nordax]

in the crooks of your body (i find my religion)

hi. hello. it's been a while. like, a year and a half since i've written anything but sometimes a situation just requires some soft porn, you know?

anyway. buck x tommy, body worship, nipple play & titty fucking coming. word count: 4k ish

also on ao3

“You look… incredible.”

Buck’s words are almost a whisper, and he can’t tear his eyes away from Tommy, who is wearing a dark button up, some flowy, nice material, and the buttons at the top are undone, flashing a lot of chest.

“Thanks”, Tommy says and Buck can hear the smile on his face as he steps closer to kiss him. It’s like a ritual, every time they see each other, that Tommy presses a soft kiss to his birthmark and then grabs his chin, softly. It’s no different this time and it makes Buck’s heart soar and flutter in his chest, like he swallowed a swarm of butterflies. Their teeth clash a little but it’s alright, and Tommy tastes sweet and familiar and it makes his knees buckle a little bit.

It’s a date night, the first in a long while because of course their schedules were opposites for what felt like an eternity. Realistically, it was probably like a week but every day that Buck went without seeing Tommy felt too much. His heart aches with longing, even now, as Tommy’s hand finds its place on the small of his back, pulling their hips together and he has to fight the urge to grind down on him.

They have a reservation at some fancy place Buck’s never been to but Tommy assures is great, and he doesn’t want to ruin their plans but the desire to pull Tommy into his apartment and take him on the kitchen counter is intense.

Still, he lets Tommy take his hand and lead him to the stairs and down to the car. Like the gentleman he is, he opens the car door for Buck and it still makes him feel special. Loved.

It’s a short drive, and the place is admittedly very nice. The food is good, the service great, and all Buck can think about is the way Tommy’s shirt hugs his chest, even with the top buttons undone, and how badly he wants to tear off the shirt and just go to town.

Tommy has incredible pecs. Well, he’s incredible and gorgeous all over but something about this look in particular is driving him crazy. When Tommy leans forward, Buck can almost see his nipples and it makes his mouth go very dry. He wants to get his hands on them, pinch and lick and suck, see what kind of sounds he could pull from Tommy.

Earth to Evan, he hears Tommy say and there’s an amused look on his face when Buck finally meets his eyes.

“Seeing something you like?” he asks, leaning back in his chair and rolling his shoulders, stretching, pulling his shirt taut over his chest and highlighting every curve.

“Uhhh y-yeah, sorry”, Buck manages, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry. You look so gorgeous. What were you saying?”

He wants to listen, of course he does, but he’s pretty sure Tommy is teasing him on purpose. He almost maintains eye contact, drifting only to Tommy’s lips and back up.

“Look who’s talking”, Tommy says and nods towards Buck. “You are allowed to look, but there’s drool and maybe that’s for a less public setting. Like back at your place. I could let you take this shirt off but don’t tear it, I can almost hear you thinking about that. It’s a nice shirt and I’d like to wear it again, especially since you seem to like it so much.”

Buck feels heat pooling in his stomach and Tommy leans in closer again, taking Buck’s hand in his.

“If I was, say, shirtless in your bed. What would you want to do?” he asks, voice low and rough and he’s going to kill Buck if he keeps going.

“I- I don’t know”, Buck says and Tommy cocks his head to the side, raising an eyebrow like he’s saying yeah you do, we both know and Buck swallows hard. “I want to undress you myself. I would tear that shirt but since that’s off the table, maybe open it painfully slowly. Button by button, kissing you. Let you get all worked up. And I would touch you, cup those incredible pecs in my hands and pinch your nipples before getting my mouth on that.”

Tommy’s pupils are blown wide and he’s biting his lower lip, squeezing Buck’s hand.

“I bet you like that, don’t you? I’d worship you all night. Bite you. Mark you. I can’t wait to get my hands on your tits.”

The word slips out from his mouth and his heart skips at least three beats. He did not mean to say that, even if he was thinking about it. But Tommy only chokes out a moan, and it makes Buck’s dick twitch in his increasingly uncomfortably tight pants.

“How about”, Tommy says, pausing and his eyes flicker to Buck’s lips, “we skip dessert and head back instead?”

Buck nods enthusiastically and almost knocks the table over in his hurry to get up. Tommy gets the check, and they’re back in the car in record time. Buck lays his hand on Tommy’s thigh, dangerously high, rubbing circles with his thumb and Tommy is gripping the wheel with his knuckles white.

It’s a miracle they make it back in one piece, with Buck continuing his speech about everything he wants to do. Like map Tommy’s body with his tongue, and find all the spots that make him sing and cry and moan. He palms at his own dick through his pants and Tommy’s eyes are hungry, darting between him and the road.

“You’re gonna kill me, kid”, Tommy laughs as they stumble up the stairs and to the door of Buck’s apartment, and his hands shake as he opens the door. The way Tommy says kid makes his heart flutter, again, and his dick twitch.

“Yeah? Is that a challenge?” he muses, tossing his jacket in the general direction of where it should go, pulling Tommy along with him, up the stairs to the loft and why did he have to move somewhere where the bed is so far from the door?

Their clothes leave a trace from the door, along the stairs and to the foot of the bed, and in his hurry to kick off his pants, Tommy trips and lands on the bed and Buck can’t help but laugh.

“You really that eager?”

Tommy shoots him a knowing look, eyes wandering to the obvious bulge in Buck’s pants.

“As if you aren’t.”

Buck shrugs and steps out of his pants and boxers, and slips his socks off before climbing on top of Tommy, still wearing his underwear and that damned shirt. He straddles Tommy and the fabric of his underwear rubbing on his dick sends sparks through his entire body.

Tommy raises his arms above his head, studying Buck’s body and slowly meeting his eyes and there’s such fondness in his eyes it makes Buck’s heart tumble in his chest oddly and he relishes in the undivided attention.

Slowly, with shaky hands, he takes the first button of Tommy’s shirt and opens it. It’s difficult this way around and he would much rather tear the shirt and maybe buy a new one for Tommy. But he continues to the second button, taking it slow like he promised even though he can feel his dick leaking onto Tommy’s stomach. You’re so wet, he remembers Tommy saying the first time he gave him a blowjob and it made him blush violently but Tommy said it with so much love and adoration, and not to tease him and it almost made him cry.

“God you’re fucking gorgeous”, Buck breathes as he finishes opening the shirt, letting it fall open and Tommy shivers. There’s a cocky, confident smile on his lips that Buck can’t wait to wipe that off and replace it with a blissful, spent smile. “I can’t wait to ruin you.”

Tommy moans at that and then covers his mouth, like he surprised himself with his reaction. Buck takes his hand and places it back on the pillow above his head. He leans down to kiss Tommy, on his lips and on his chin. His version of the ritual.

“None of that. I wanna hear you”, he says and Tommy nods, rendered breathless and speechless. It’s a rare occasion, and Buck kisses him again, sloppy and wet and greedy. He trails open-mouthed kisses down Tommy’s chin and along his jaw, down his throat, scraping his teeth softly against the skin. It earns him little gasps and he can feel Tommy’s muscles twitching and moving underneath him. The strength makes his head spin a little. Tommy could relatively easily throw him off, change their positions, but he seems content underneath him, Buck’s thighs framing him.

Buck keeps his eyes on Tommy’s face as he lays his hands on his chest, testing the waters. He squeezes and gropes, letting his fingers dig into the skin and there’s muscle, yes, but softness too. It’s a wonderful view, watching Tommy’s mouth fall open and his head tilt back. He’s sensitive, that Buck already knows, but he’s never really focused this much on his chest. He ghosts his fingers across the soft skin and Tommy groans, arching his body, trying to push into the touch.

When Buck ghosts his fingers over the dark and splotchy scar on Tommy’s ribs, he draws in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Does it hurt?” Buck asks, even though somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it’s an old scar. He’s heard the story before, when they laid in bed and he traced Tommy’s scars and asked about the stories behind them.

“Surprised me, is all. Most people aren’t a fan of those. Reminds them too much about how dangerous the job is”, he says and pauses. “Still not used to… this.”

And he doesn’t need to say anything more, because Buck understands and he knows what Tommy means, like he knows Tommy understands when he doesn’t talk about the lighting strike or the ladder truck.

“Reminds me that you’re still here, despite it all. Still alive. With me.”

Tommy hums softly and blinks a couple times, and it feels like too much, for a moment, like he might drown in this emotion and then Tommy’s hands reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. It grounds him and when Tommy drags his bottom lip between his teeth, he feels those sparks again, lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

With his mouth still on Tommy’s, he grabs Tommy’s left nipple between his thumb and index finger, twisting it and drinking in all of Tommy’s soft moans. He ducks down to lick circles around Tommy’s right nipple, just above the scar, circling it with the tip of his tongue and Tommy breathes out his name, pleading. Buck grabs more of his left pec, as much as he can, and thinks about how good his cum would look splattered over Tommy’s chest and face. Wonders if he could fuck those pretty tits of his.

It requires some coordination to do two different things at once, but Buck is good at this and he knows it. While his mouth is busy with Tommy’s right nipple, licking and sucking, he squeezes and twists the other one, and Tommy whines, high and needy. His hands come down, one twisting into his hair and the other sneaking past him, grabbing his ass. Tommy pulls on his hair and Buck moans against his skin. It sends electricity all through him, makes him tingle, the way Tommy grabs his hair and doesn’t let go, doesn’t pull him off but just holds him there, guiding him where he wants him.

Buck scrapes his teeth over the nipple in his mouth and praise rains from Tommy’s lips. Encouraged, he bites at Tommy’s chest, between the nipple and the scar. Soft at first and when Tommy doesn’t protest, he bites a little harder, tugging on the skin with his skin and sucking on it, and Tommy tastes like salt and sex and home.

He sucks three marks there, and it leaves the skin red.

“Admiring your work?” Tommy asks and his voice is a little hoarse, his lips plush and red like he’s been chewing on them. Buck nods and ducks his head again, nuzzling his face between Tommy’s pecs and Tommy laughs softly. He cards his fingers through Buck’s hair, and it feels so nice. He lays there for a moment, listening to the steady beat of Tommy’s heart. When he slips his tongue out and licks the skin, he feels Tommy’s dick twitch against his ass.

Right. Priorities. Like trying to get Tommy off without touching him.

He grazes his teeth over Tommy’s left nipple and in response, Tommy curses and praises him, says his name like a prayer, words all mangled together and the hand in his hair tightens again. Buck licks and sucks and bites until Tommy is panting, hips bucking up and it makes Buck’s heart swell with pride. He sits up just to squeeze Tommy’s tits, pushing them together and he looks so gorgeous with his cheeks flushed and chest all wet and covered in bite marks and bruises.

“Can I fuck your tits?” Buck asks and Tommy chokes on his moan, hand falling from Buck’s hair. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so turned on. “Like, can you push them together for me? I want to paint you with my cum.”

“God, Evan”, Tommy breathes and places his hands on Buck’s hips. His fingers dig into Buck’s skin and silently, he hopes Tommy would grab him hard enough to bruise him, to leave his fingerprints on him.

“Can I? Please?” he asks again, watching Tommy intently and trying to convey all of his emotion in that single look. His hard, neglected cock twitches and he resists the urge to touch himself. He wants to give Tommy time to think, because they’ve talked about this before, about trying things they might like.

“Yeah, Evan. You can”, Tommy says finally and Buck moans, deep and throaty and leans in for a kiss. Tommy’s hands slide from his hips and up, along his back, cradling his face and this, right here, is where he belongs. He pulls back breathless and Tommy has that stupid, proud smile on his face. It falters when Buck rotates off of him, crawling to the side of the bed, rummaging through the drawers and returning with a wide grin and a bottle of lube.

“Can I take the shirt off now?” Tommy asks and Buck pretends to think for a moment, because he already decided not to ruin his shirt and they’re trying something new, he doesn’t want Tommy to be uncomfortable. With his permission, Tommy sits up and slips the shirt off, and Buck thinks he sees Tommy flexing his muscles just a bit more than necessary. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and Buck stops him, grabbing his wrists.

“Not yet. I want to watch you fall apart for me, so no touching”, he says and Tommy’s eyes flash with something, lust. Hunger. He lets Buck guide his hands to his sides, and straddles him again, shuffling until his dick is perfectly between Tommy’s pecs.

“You look fucking gorgeous”, Buck says because he can’t not, because Tommy is the most beautiful thing he has ever had the pleasure of witnessing and his words make Tommy squirm.

“Really?” he asks, and his usual confidence is hiding somewhere. There’s uncertainty, and Buck understands because he’s pushing Tommy out of his comfort zone but then again, Tommy pushing him out of his was one of the best things to ever happen to him. That, and the constant reassurance.

“Yes, really. Only thing that would make this better is my cum all over your pretty face.”

Tommy makes a choked sound, and grabs Buck to pull him down for a kiss and his hand sneaks between them, fingers wrapping around his dick and he swallows Buck’s moan effortlessly.

“Can’t wait”, Tommy whispers and gives a few good tugs on his dick and Buck is already so worked up he thinks about letting Tommy just jerk him off, it would have the same end result. But he’s been wanting this for a while now, a little longer than he’s willing to admit.

“You’re gonna make me cum”, he says and doesn’t pull Tommy’s hand off, just closes his eyes and relaxes. Tommy works him with certain hands, squeezing the base of his cock and it sets his skin on fire, sends his heart soaring through the roof. He feels so good in Tommy’s hands. Tommy’s big, strong hands that seem to fit on him like puzzle pieces fit together and how their bodies slot together like they were sculpted from the same piece of clay.

Like they were made for each other.

“You wanna fuck my tits or not?” Tommy asks, and it brings Buck back to this moment, and the heat pooling in his stomach. Buck swats Tommy’s hand from his cock and squeezes a generous amount of lube on his own hand, spreading it all over his dick and letting it drip onto Tommy’s chest. He gasps and complains that it’s cold, and it’s cruel to do that without warning, and Buck makes a mental note about pursuing that further one day. Right now, he has more pressing concerns. He orders Tommy to push his tits together, and he does, a lovely blush on his cheeks and it’s such a pretty look. There’s enough soft flesh there to form something he could fuck.

Buck tries slowly pushing his hips forward, guiding his dick between Tommy’s tits, and it feels euphoric. The way Tommy looks so thrown off balance and yet so eager, eyes darting back and forth between Buck’s face and his dick, and the obscene sound of his dick against Tommy’s smooth, slicked up skin.

He wants to do this slow, to make it last, but he can’t, not when Tommy looks like that. Buck leans forward, looming over Tommy and grabbing the headboard for support. Tommy slides his hand to Buck’s dick, guiding it down and deeper between his tits and Buck moans at that, low and rough and oh he’s so wrecked.

“You’re so fucking good for me”; he says and his hips stutter. “Not gonna last long.”

Tommy groans in response and tries squeezing his chest in more, with his arms more than his hands and with a slightly awkward angle, he manages to wrap his fingers around Buck’s dick and tries jerking him to the rhythm of Buck’s thrusts. Buck thinks he might pass out. Tommy is breathing hard under him, and he looks so gorgeous, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Buck thinks about Tommy’s poor neglected cock but then Tommy rubs his thumb over the tip of his dick, along the slit and it almost sends him over the edge.

“Tommy, please”, he manages, voice hoarse.

“Do you want to cum on my tits?” Tommy asks, breathless and so desperate. He tugs on Buck’s dick, matching the increasingly inelegant pace and then he opens his mouth, like an invitation.

It’s like he wants Buck to pass out.

He thrusts harder, faster, desperate for release and he feels his balls tightening and that heat from his stomach rising to his chest, and he chases that, bed groaning under them as he shoots thick ropes of cum over Tommy’s tits and his throat and some of it into his mouth. Tommy keeps pumping his dick until Buck is shaking with overstimulation, gasping out little moans.

“Good?” Tommy asks, the bastard.

“Perfect.”

Buck opens his eyes just in time to see Tommy wipe the cum from his face and licking it off, slowly, one finger at a time.

“You’re such a cum slut, aren’t you?” Buck asks, still a little dazed and floating somewhere between his bedroom and seventh heaven. Tommy laughs and his hands are on Buck’s legs, stroking up and down his thighs, softly kneading his bad knee before going up again and settling on his hips.

“For you? Anything”, he says and it makes Buck’s head spin. He reaches behind himself to palm at Tommy’s cock and there’s a wet patch on his underwear. Tommy moans and tries bucking up into the touch, fingers digging into Buck’s skin.

“Want you inside me”, Buck says without thinking really, still riding his high. There’s a distant throbbing pain in his knee. “Want you to fuck me into the mattress.”

Within milliseconds of the words leaving his lips, Tommy slides him off of him and then pushes him down, and in a flurry of motion his underwear ends up on the floor and Buck finds himself lying on his stomach, Tommy settling between his legs. It makes his stomach swoop, the way Tommy manhandles him so easily.

He hears the cap of lube opening and Tommy’s hands spreading his cheeks, a finger circling him before pressing in. He can’t help but moan and whine when the finger pushes in deeper.

“Good?” Tommy asks and Buck mumbles out a yeah, more please, and Tommy chuckles and pushes his finger in deeper for a moment before almost pulling out and Buck pushes back, trying to fuck himself on Tommy’s hand. He’s done that before, and Tommy watched him with hungry eyes.

“More”, Buck says, muffled against the pillows.

“Who’s the slut now?” Tommy asks, but obliges, pushing in a second finger, slowly. It feels like an eternity before he curls his fingers, pulling them out almost all the way before pushing  them in again, scissoring and stretching him. Buck tangles his hands in the bedsheets and begs more, more, please, Tommy-

It’s a blinding pleasure, feeling the tip of Tommy’s cock on his entrance. Buck bites into the pillow and tries not to whine like a cheap whore but it feels so good, to have Tommy fill him and he feels himself getting hard again. He relishes in the stretch of Tommy inside him, and how Tommy’s hand finds its place on the back of his neck, steady, strong. A promise.

Buck arches his back and pushes back, his ass against Tommy’s hips and Tommy’s fingers wrap around his throat. He squeezes lightly and  thrusts into Buck, fast and steady, singing praise. You’re so good for me, Evan. Take my cock so well.

It’s almost enough to make him hard again, balancing on the edge of being too much, too painful. Tommy coaxes filthy moans from him, whispering his name and yes I’m good for you, I’m yours, I’m yours, Tommy I’m yours until Tommy’s hand recedes from his throat to grab his hips, lifting him to his knees. He fucks him hard, like Buck asked, hips slamming into Buck with abandon.

“Please make this fast, can’t take much”, Buck chokes out and he’s shaking, but Tommy wants this and his fingers are painfully deep in his hips, and he’ll bruise for sure. Something about them wearing each other’s marks makes his heart swell and rise to his throat and when Tommy cums inside him, Buck feels tears burning his eyes.

Tommy leans down over him, kissing his ear and his neck and his shoulders, down along his spine, dragging skin between his teeth.

I’m so in love with you, Buck wants to say and all that comes out is a muffled moan, and Tommy hums in response. When he pulls out, Buck feels his cum dripping and trailing down his thigh. He slumps down and feels Tommy lay down next to him, a hand coming to frame his face and a thumb wiping the tear from his cheek.

“Are you okay, Evan?” Tommy asks and his voice is so soft and filled with love and worry that Buck can’t open his eyes because if he does, he’ll actually start sobbing. Not because he’s not okay, because he’s more than okay, he’s full of Tommy, he’s loved and sometimes it’s just a little too much.

“I love you”, he answers instead and reaches for Tommy, wants to hide his face in the crook of his neck where he knows it fits perfectly, like it was made for him. But he misses and his hand lands in the sticky, cold mess of lube and cum on Tommy’s chest. “That’s a bit disgusting.”

“The love or the mess you made?” Tommy asks and again, Buck can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn’t reply, just slowly blinks his eyes open and he feels another tear escape. His eyes are drawn immediately to Tommy’s chest, and it’s covered in the marks he made, and they’re getting darker by the second. He might have been a little over-enthusiastic. He traces them with his fingers, a little mesmerised.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks and finally, meets Tommy’s eyes.

“No. It was… really good”, Tommy says and brushes his thumb over Buck’s lips, leaving him breathless. “Feel up for a shower?”

Buck hums in response and there’s a weariness making itself home in his bones, and the ache in his knee is becoming stronger. But he knows they’re sticky and probably made a mess of the sheets too, and falling asleep like this will definitely lead to incredible discomfort when they wake up.

“Carry me?” he asks, holding his arms up and Tommy laughs, but he gets up and pulls Buck up to sit on the edge of the bed, and there’s a certain determination in his eyes like he’s actually going to haul Buck up to his shoulder and carry him to the shower. Unfortunately, there are stairs in the way, and having to call 911 because you and your boyfriend slipped on the stairs, both covered in cum, is a horrifying thought.

“I’ll carry you back to bed, and I promise to be careful with the stairs”, Tommy says, and offers a hand to Buck to help him up and that sounds infinitely better. His hand fits into Tommy’s like it was meant to be there.

[milomarigold]

Skinny Dipping Shenanigans pt1

Gender Neutral | Suggestive | Baxter Ward x MC

Part 1 | Part 2 

(Art by MELLodrawmatic on Twitter)

                                                   🌲 🌲 🌲

You couldn't believe you were going back to the Rocky Mountains. The fancy mountain lodge you'd stayed in 5 years ago coming into view after a worthwhile scenic drive. Fir, pine and aspen trees as far as the eye could see! What was most surprising is that the same neighbor from so long ago was accompanying you, Mr. Baxter Ward. You turned away from the green forest beyond the car window and towards him.

Did he always look so handsome driving? One hand on the steering wheel at 6 o'clock, his right arm resting on the door ledge. A steady gaze on the road ahead he knew by heart. Warm summer light making him glow and an easy tranquil grin. From your thorough observations, you also noticed gray.

Ever since you two had started dating, you couldn't help but notice this small detail that'd made a younger Baxter so restless. Baxter's hair wasn't naturally black, it was more of a gray. He'd started dying it meticulously when he was 14, bothered that it wasn't exactly black. An "imperfection" he couldn't afford others to notice. So, it surprised you that it seemed he hadn't noticed his natural color resurfacing. It was only about an inch of gray, but that was still more than you'd ever seen from the ever careful Baxter Ward.

Or perhaps he had noticed, but he longer saw it as such a flaw. Perhaps, he felt more secure in showing you this vulnerable side of himself? You hoped so, you thought, smiling secretly to yourself.

"See something you like?" Hm, or perhaps it wasn't so secret. Baxter smirked roguishly at your reaction.

You attempted to recover however, "I can't help it, you look so handsome while you drive!" You said honestly and beamed a smile of your own.

Your bluntness had him chuckling. "Well, I wish I could indulge you longer, but I wouldn't know how to explain to the front desk why we were late for check-in."

"It was a matter of great importance!" You joked and reached for your seat belt once Baxter had stopped the car. He shook his head at your antics but had the softest look in his eyes. The two of you retrieved your luggage and made your way to the log hotel.

You may have been here before, but the familiar grandeur still managed to impress you as the hefty door closed behind you. The inviting hearth of the fireplace, the elegant red rug, stone walls and rustic furniture was still the same with only a few refreshing renovations.

The check-in went smoothly. You both settled into your room/s and ordered room service for dinner. The food was so divine you couldn't resist sending Liz a picture. Baxter came out in frame and you asked him to hold out a piece sign. He did. To which she responded, "Look at you living the high life, with your gentleman suitor!" She also sent you a picture of her having dinner with college friends. You smiled and showed your suitor.

The sky had darked significantly by the time you both finished dinner. So, your food comas suggested you head to bed. The drive had tired you out more than you thought, so you could imagine how tuckered Baxter must be. "Good night," Baxter held the back of your head and pressed a kiss to your forehead, "sleep tight." You were sure you would.

The next day, the two of you walked into the small town for a late breakfast. Afterwards, you both explored the shopping area. While looking at trinkets and souvenirs, you got some gifts for Cove, Terry, and Miranda. "Are you getting something for Xavier?" You looked over his shoulder as he compared several pins.

"Perhaps." he settled on a 4 pack of pastel pins with pictures of the rocky mountains "Yes, these will do." Although he was doing something nice for a friend, his tone resembled a villain picking a poison for their nemesis. Oh, Baxter...

Souvenirs in hand the two of you made your way out and stumbled upon a street performer with a sizable crowd. The Great Who Dini was performing a magic show! You held Baxter's hand and excitedly led him to the front of the crowd. You both watched as he shook his hat, but nothing came out. It was empty, or so the audience thought! The Great Who Dini reached in and pulled out a flurry of petals! You marveled as the petals fluttered around you. Baxter chuckled and clapped along with the crowd, "How delightful!"

The magician bowed with a flourish of his purple cape and a twist of his mustache. You were distracted from the show, however, when you felt your lover remove a petal from your head. Tilting his head to the side with a placid smile. A thought came to you, "You know, The Great Who Dini kinda reminds me of you."

"Because I'm mysterious?" He played with a flip of his wrist.

"Nope, because you're both dramatic!" you quipped with finger guns.

He gaped, a slender hand lifting to his heart as if he'd been shot. Alas, all it did was prove your point.

After the performance, you both made your way towards the lodge. Along the way, was a fork in the road with a sign pointing in different directions. One pointed towards the lake. "If you're not too tired, would you like to take a detour? The lake looks wonderful as the sun sets."

You didn't have an objection to that in fact, especially when there was an ice cream vendor along that path! Baxter paid for both of you. It was delightful to see Baxter choose another comical treat, this time he'd picked one that resembled a blue hedgehog.

Baxter sold it short when he said the lake looked wonderful. It was such a marvel you almost dropped your ice cream! Shades of orange, purple and pink reflected off the glittering water. Best of your boyfriend was in the picture, in more ways than one. That's right, it was the perfect picture opportunity!! You put your arm around his shoulder and prompted him towards your camera. You both smiled lightheartedly. Click!

"It's perfect." He said smiling boyishly at the picture. Then you both took a seat on the dock's edge to finish what remained of your frozen desserts. You gently leaned against him and he did the same. It really was perfect. A comfortable silence followed, until Baxter said something that surprised you. "Seeing the water really makes me want to take a dip."

"The elusive Baxter Ward swimming in a body of water?? Unheard of!"

"It's the uncertain depths of the ocean that frightens me, at least here I can see the bottom." Baxter justified amused. He was right, the pebbles glittered beneath the water.

"I'm just teasing, I'd never actually fault you for being afraid of the ocean. I'm actually proud of you for giving it a chance." You added sincerely, giving his side a hug.

Baxter turned towards you, with an easy gaze, "Thank you,. Honestly, I don't think I would've tried it without you."

It was then that you noticed the ice cream on the corner of his lips. Sensibly, you used your thumb to gently swipe it and try the treat yourself. Nom. "Mm, cherry?"

Baxter watched you, eyes wide. A touch of pink on his marshmallow cheeks. Then his confidence kicked back in, "Yes excellent guess, but there's a second flavor. Care to find out what it is?" You look down at the bit of ice cream that remained on the popsicle stick, and surveyed as he swiftly took it into his mouth. Canine easily dragging the cool treat in. Did he mean to drag the popsicle stick out slowly? Absolutely.

You blushed. However, you liked to think of yourself as a bit of a detective and you couldn't leave this mystery unsolved. You leaned closer, "Yeah, I do." He grinned, eyes lidded and met you halfway. Behaving while you trailed your hand along his jaw and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. He leaned into it eagerly. You noticed his cologne as you kissed him. It was floral, you loved it and lightly bit at his bottom lip. He gladly gave you permission to deepen the kiss. Now what could the second flavor be? He tasted tarte, but sweet.

While you put your detective skills to work, the sneaky dark haired man snaked his arms around your waist. He pulled you against his chest securely. You let out a content noise, wrapping one arm on his shoulders and a hand on his nape. This was a tough mystery, who knew how long the investigation would have to go?

You couldn't help tugging playfully at his hair. Baxter started to groan softly and gently pull at your shirt. Ah, you had it! The second flavor was raspberry! You should let him know you figured it out. Suddenly, you felt yourself moving, Baxter was pulling you onto his lap. Letting him guide your body, you confirmed his lap was better than any chair you’ve ever sat on. His dancer legs could never disappoint. You’d let him know you’d figured out the second flavor later.

Pulling back to take a breath, you started trailing kisses along his jawline. Humming happily he tilted his head back for you. Leaving another smooch behind his ear, you were one kiss away from his iconic beauty mark. His hand traveled down to your thigh- when a strange light flashed across your vision. Strange.

"Hey! You crazy kids, didn't ya read the sign??" The two of you parted startled by the sudden voice calling out to you. An old forest ranger stood holding a menacing flashlight. "No shenanigans allowed!!!"

The two of you looked at each other confused, before Baxter asked the ranger "Pardon? Oh...I see" Both of them directed you to a sign a little bit away that indeed read ‘No Shenanigans!’ in bold red paint. You couldn't believe your eyes and let out a snort of air.

"What?? Do you think this is funny?" Asked the ranger aghast. "Do you know how many juveniles come round here, lighting up fireworks, smoochin’, and causin’ havoc?! Begone, it's past open hours anyways!" It was hard to take the old ranger seriously when he was wearing spectacles and trousers many sizes too big, but neither of you could bear to tell him ‘no' either.

Fixing his hair into place, Baxter cooled "Do excuse us, we hadn’t noticed the time. We didn’t mean to cause trouble. Especially at such a well cared for area such as this. You must be very dedicated to keep the place so gorgeous.” He got to his feet and offered you a hand.

Your lover knew how to charm his way around an older crowd. The old ranger stood taller, flattered "That's right, gotta do my job! People be crazy round these parts, skinny dipping and the such."

"Oh don't worry we wouldn't dare do something so audacious." Baxter assured, straightening his button down shirt.

Your head tilted to the side surprised and asked “People skinny dip around here?” your boyfriend fixed your top to its proper place as well.

The ranger answered, "Yes, that's right! You wouldn’t believe the gall of some youths!” one hand pushed his giant spectacles up his round nose.

Baxter picked up your things and took your hand into his, “We'd wouldn't dare make your job harder, keeping the forest safe is no easy task. That said, we should get going, it's almost our curfew." You knew he was joking, but the ranger didn’t catch that. You both waved innocently goodbye at the ranger who cracked a smile and waved back, “Goodnight, y'all get back safe! …maybe those youngins ain't so bad.” He grumbled, and you left the lake, heading back to the lodge.

When you were far enough away Baxter started holding back snickers, fox eyes glittering in the moonlight. You had to ask "Baxter?"

"Darling, we wouldn't dare skinny dip right?" He flashed a wolfish grin at you. Oh you loved it when he was mischievous! You smirked, encouraging him to continue. "And get caught~" He finished.

"Baxter Alexander Ward, you little devil!!" You gawked nudging his shoulder playfully. Both your laughter rang like bells into the night sky. When you settled, just about reaching the lodge you gave him your answer "Well partner in crime, we better start planning our great escapade."

Your dramatic man looked at you, dead impressed! He hadn't actually expected you to want to go skinny dipping. With a swipe of his dark bangs, he leveled you with a look you'd only ever seen in movies when the villain is planning something evil. "Let us start some shenanigans."

To be continued…

[yesyourstalker]

Part two.... Damn this shit. Long as fuck not even done

Warabi: it's the coldest time of yeeeaarrr! But cod damn I'm so warm in siiioode! When you're close to me and you smile at me! My excitement has no place to hide!

Neta: Warabi

Warabi: while the kids are laughing and screaming and grandma starts to siiing! I pull you aside. A nice place to hide and I pulled out that. Platinum. diamond. ring!

Neta: Warabi please

Warabi: you quickly tried to denyyyy it and that smile. I see you hide it! I give you the best ooooon Frosty Fest cuz our love.is.stronger. than. allllll the rest!

Neta: I'm trying to drive

Warabi: baby take my hand and make me your man- Why'd you turn the radio off?

Neta:........... We're sitting in silence

Warabi: but....it's but it's frosty-

Neta: shut up! [Eating]

Warabi: Don't eat all of the salmon bites. Those are for the guests!!

_______________________________________________

Mahi: holy shit. This place is huge.....it's bigger than the original store.

Baja: look he has two stories! Wow! I wonder what he's going to put up there!

Mahi: He said he wanted some sort of cafe lounge or something? This place is really fancy

Baja: Neta really went all out for this- *gasp* it's.. it's

Mahi: calm down. Take some breaths. Don't be fucking weird..... Hey ikkan you bought some wine I didn't know if it was a white wine or a red wine kind of party so I bought both..... Also this is Baja

Ikkan: thanks. You can just set them on the table over there. You must be Warabi's boyfriend he told me about you It's nice to see you.

Baja: Yes I've heard a lot about you. Not just like from TV and social media and the news. I mean but so has everyone else because you're very successful and famous. I'm sorry I'm rambling but Neta told me a lot about you and it's really nice to see you in person.

Ikkan: It's nice to see you too.... What model saxophone is that?

Baja: ... It's a shanty 44 model it's an Alto. Neta wanted me to bring it to play heheh.... It's the same model as your bassoon. It's a shanty 43 model you played it at the hard shell banquet hall at memorial service If your old high school band director 3 years back.

Ikkan: uh.... Yeah... That's.... Yeah that's correct. Wow ......how did he know that? That's very impressive you know a lot about music

Baja: Yeah it's mostly just history stuff.

Ikkan: That's really cool..... What do you usually play?

Baja: I was in jazz band and I also played an orchestra for the last two years of school

Ikkan: do you know how to play Funtime Frost?

Baja: yes

Ikkan: I'll be right back. I'm going to my car.

Baja: I think we're friends!

Mahi: you two are dorks. I'm going to set up the drinks

_______________________________________________

Carrie: *gasp* Baja!! I knew you'd come! What do you think of my dress. Pretty isn't it? I usually don't wear light colors like cream or white, but it kind of felt special. I also bought my cello I was going to play it for you remember? but I was rudely interrupted by -... Oh It's just you.

Mahi: Yeah, it's good to see you too you little brat. Get on my way, Baja's over there. Also when Mizole shows up don't try anything. This is a big deal for your dad. I don't ruin it.

Cirrina: as if I would talk to him willingly.... Why is he even showing up? This party is supposed to be for important people. Not has beens like your boyfriend

Mahi: you know what!?!

Neta: Mahi do not fight with my daughter unless you want to be fired! Cirrina crab cakes please don't start fights with the adults. Okay? Show everyone at the party. What a sweet, pretty girl you are.

Cirrina: ok daddy.. ..Oh Bajaaaa! [Flips off mahi]

Neta: monster

Neta: awwww my baby's first crush... She's growing so fast they really do slip through your fingers......*sigh* anyway, everything is set up. Decorations are good... Drinks are all set... The waiters are setting up their trays...... Now we just need to wait for the people..... Baja?

Baja: I've already set up! ikkan's getting his bassoon right now! I can't believe I'm going to be playing with the Ikkan Kane! think I'm going to faint

Warabi: hey Mahi

Mahi: ooh those look good!

Warabi: No, you can't have any of these All right. I made 80 of these and Neta already ate five of them!

Neta: They're good!

Warabi: huff I made 40 cooked ones and 40 raw ones so we have options. DON'T eat all of the raw ones mahi! Save some for the actual guests and that goes for you too babe!

_____________________hour in the part____________

[live music playing over a crowd of people talking]

Pearl: you know when you said Frosty fast party. I thought you meant the ones you used to have at the boathouse.

Neta: Oh you mean the one when l passed on the floor in my own barf?

Pearl: Yeah those parties were fun hehehehe

Neta: getting too old for that now can't handle my liquor like I used to

Pearl: you couldn't hold your liquor back then either Jackass hahahahaahaha remember you get your hands stuck in the toilet hahahah we had to call the fire department hahahaha

Neta:heheheheh It was the party where you flashed the cops

Pearl: Yeah! I got one of the lady cops' numbers and after hehehe *sigh* good times..... Oh this is the Marina. She's my fiance

Marina: Hi, I've heard so much about you. I also saw you once in concert with squid squad! You're so talented! It's been honor to meet you actually

Neta: ahhh finally meeting you in person. I'm a big fan of you as well. I love the dress by the way you look great. Hope you're enjoying the party

Marina: I definitely am. This is such a gorgeous place and this is going to be your store?

Neta: Yes! We usually just sell music, merchandise, instruments.........concert tickets.

Marina: well That's interesting. Dance socks is actually starting another tour next year... Here is the number to our vendor they make most of our merchandise and I can see if I can contact 'ticket stand' and provide you access to our supply.

Neta:oh thanks!

Marina : We're going to refresh on some drinks and we'll catch up with you and talk about this little business later.......What is this about you flashing cops?

_______________________________________________

Baja: Yeah so father was actually an apprentice of ikkan's old band director he spent one year in Krillarney. He had to leave when you was born.

Zuzu: wow! That's true he lived in Krillarney for 5 years! How do you know that ?

Baja: It was in an old interview on subshellet I read. I think it was 7 years ago

Zuzu: hehehe I should hire you to write my memoir you seem to know a lot more about me than I do heheheh...... Hmmm

_______________________________________________

Mahi: *sigh*.....*sip*.... Mizole!! Hey over here! Hi babe. [Kiss]

Mizole: hey babe.. [ kiss] I got you a gift..... But it's in my freezer at home. You can't have until tomorrow Mahi I want you to meet wet floor. Guys, this is my partner Mahi.

Mahi: hay guys. Nice to meet you finally...

Wf Candi: He didn't cheat on you yet did he?

Mizole: Candi!!

Mahi: hahaha no!!!..... I hope not

Raley: Oh then he's probably loyal......probably cuz you would definitely know if he was cheating. He's a terrible liar

Mizole: what the hell!! I have never cheated on anyone!!!

Keaton: Yeah I have to back him up on that. He doesn't really cheat. He has ghosted people and never told them that he broke up with them before dating someone else

Mizole: but this time it's fucking different!!. I actually like this one! Mahi makes me happy and I want to see them happy!

Mahi: oh.... mizole.

Mizole: and you know what?? for our one year anniversary that's in a couple months I'm going allllll out! Take them on a trip or some shit! That's how much I care for my partner.

Neil: well I for one am happy you actually found someone that you like.

Mizole: thank you Neil

Neil: I'm more surprised they like you back

Mizole:..........

Mahi: hehehe .. I'm going to go get some food. You hang out with your friends and be nice to each other and I'll be right back and -oh shit. Sorry man I wasn't looking where I was.......... Why the fuck are you here?

_______________________________________________

Mahi and Baja ate all of the raw salmon bites before anyone else could get them and @fish-at-fish-fish-resort Saw the whole thing and didn't say anything

[motherofdragonflies]

A Very Prompty Christmas Day 17: Lights

“You drive safe, okay? The roads are icy,” Dean said, raising his eyebrows and staring pointedly at Sam until his brother rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Who says Sam’s driving?” Eileen asked, her own brows raised as she looked at Dean. “It’s my car,” she said, pointing at herself.

“Oh, hey, didn’t mean to step on any toes,” Dean said, holding his hands up in surrender, and then clenching a fist and rubbing it on his chest. “I know better than to get between a lady and her car.”

Eileen nodded. “Damn straight,” she said and grinned.

“Well then, you drive safe,” Dean said to Eileen. He started to add something about not letting Sam bore her to death with his serial killer podcasts, then realised that no matter what Sam played, Eileen wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“You sure you don’t want to come with us?” Eileen asked, concerned.

“Nah,” Dean replied, shaking his head. “You guys go. Have fun.” He added the sign for ‘fun’ to emphasise his point, and Eileen nodded her acceptance.

They had woken this morning to discover the calendar had opened door number sixteen to reveal an outline of a bell, wrapped in glittering gold wire, almost looking as though it were lit up under the harsh kitchen lights. It had been Sam’s idea to drive the four hours to Kansas City and take Jack to see the extensive Christmas lights displayed across the city. Eileen had immediately been on board, but Dean…Dean had begged off. He didn’t want to be the third wheel, interrupting Sam and Eileen’s time together. He wanted Jack to be able to enjoy the experience without worrying about Dean.

Sam had fought him, all but begged him to come. They were going to stay overnight in Kansas City, he cajoled. They’d splurged on a fancy hotel. Egyptian cotton sheets. Room service. But none of those appealed to Dean. He preferred his memory foam mattress, the burgers he cooked in his own kitchen, and the familiar sight and sounds and smells of the Bunker.

Eileen must have seen something in his eye, though, because she had laid a hand on Sam’s arm and signed something to him, and Sam had backed down.

Dean walked down to the garage with them, watched as they loaded their bags and climbed into Eileen’s cherry red Valiant (not the Impala but a sweet little ride nonetheless) and watched as the three of the drove off.

The father, the mother and the son, off on their happy family outing, this time leaving the creepy uncle at home.

As the tail lights of the Valiant disappeared up the ramp, Dean turned and slowly headed back towards the main level.

He slowed as he approached room 7B, resting a hand on the door and closing his eyes.

He hadn’t gone into that room since…since that night. When they had searched for Mrs. Butter’s Christmas decorations, Dean had directed the others to search that room while he searched the archive room across the hall. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t need to see the brick wall that the Empty had erupted out of, and dragged Cas through.

He saw it in his dreams often enough.

Dean continued up to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of coffee and took it to the library. He didn’t have any research to do, and didn’t need to be there. He could very easily have read the online editions of the local papers in his bedroom, but he wanted the company. He wanted the bustle of the hunters moving about the Bunker, the low susurrus of conversation, the reminder that he wasn’t alone, even as he felt so very much apart from everyone.

When he walked up the library level, he noticed a pair of feet sticking out from under the tree and quickly dropped his coffee cup and laptop on the closest table before hurrying over and grabbing the exposed ankles, pulling out—

“Dean?”

The young woman blinked up at Dean in surprise.

“Are you okay?” Dean demanded, scanning the young hunter’s—Violet? Viola?—body for any sign of injury or illness.

“What?” Vivian stared up at him in confusion. “Oh! Because,” she gestured at the tree. “No, yeah, I’m fine.” She laughed somewhat embarrassedly, pushing herself up into a seated position. “I just…have you ever looked at the lights from underneath?”

Somewhat thrown, trying to force his heart rate back to its normal rate, Dean shook his head.

“I had a cat growing up,” V (he’d given up trying to remember her name) said. “Every Christmas, he’d lay under the tree and just stare. I always wondered what he was looking at, but our trees were so small, I couldn’t fit under there.” She turned and looked over her shoulder. “Not like this one.”

“So what was he looking at?” Dean asked, curious.

V smiled. “Come see,” she said, laying back down and wriggling until her head and shoulders were back under the tree.

“What about the train?” Dean asked, worried.

“Oh. I turned it off. It’s behind the telescope, I think,” came V’s voice, muffled slightly from under the tree.

With a shrug of why the hell not, Dean lay down and shuffled backwards until he was under the tree, lifting his shoulders carefully over the track, his head next to V’s, and looked up.

The tree glowed. The multi-coloured twinkle lights were softer down here, the branches diffusing their brightness. The tree was beautiful when you looked at it from the outside, but from underneath, it was almost magical. He couldn’t see any baubles or tinsel from under there, just green needles and glowing lights.

“It’s like another world under here,” V whispered next to him, and Dean had to agree.

“Whiskers—that was my cat’s name, original, I know, but in my defence I was, like, five when I named him—sometimes, he’d bat at the baubles and try and pull the tinsel off down. Other times, he’d just lay there, almost like he was transfixed by the lights.”

“I know the feeling,” Dean whispered back.

They both lay there for a few moments, enjoying the play of the twinkles on the needles of the fir tree. A clatter of bootprints and an exclaimed “Vi?” broke their private bubble, and Vi turned to give Dean a sheepish smile.

“See you later,” she said apologetically, wriggling out from under the tree and sitting up. Dean lifted his head to see Tan reach down and help Vi to her feet, the ringing of their boots on the tile and their cheerful chatter fading as they walked down the steps and away from the library.

Dean remained where he was, watching the lights dance above him. There was a blue light somewhere to the right of Dean that glowed almost white, and as Dean watch it the light seemed to pulse, shades of blue to an almost blinding white and back again until it seemed to fill Dean’s field of vision, surround him with light, and in the distance, as though through a fog Dean heard a voice call out urgently, “close your eyes!”

“Dean?”

Dean started, knocking his head against the underside of the tree, the needles shaking with the impact.

“What’re doin’ down there, boy?”

Dean wiggled his way out from under the tree, groaning as he sat up and accepting the hand that Bobby held out to him to help him to his feet.

“Just looking at the lights,” he said, wincing as he back protested laying on the tile floor.

“You can look at the lights from here, ya idiot,” Bobby scolded.

Dean chuckled. “Yeah. You need something, Bobby?”

Bobby considered him sceptically for a moment and then shook his head. “Nah, just came up here for a book, saw your stupid ass lying flat on the floor.”

“I appreciate the hand up,” Dean said, and Bobby grunted, muttering under his breath and he walked over to one of the reading nooks and started searching the low shelf.

Dean looked back at the tree one last time, his eye drawn to the one blue light that was glowing brighter than the others, before walking out of the library, scooping up his coffee and his computer on the way.

He’d do his reading in his room today.

~

Come back tomorrow for Day Eighteen: Christmas Miracle!  (Trust me. You don’t want to miss this one).

Day One: Advent Calendar

Day Two: Tinsel

Day Three: Ribbon

Day Four: Shopping

Day Five: Ugly Sweater

Day Six: Candy Canes

Day Seven: Christmas Spirit

Day Eight: Mistletoe

Day Nine: Gingerbread

Day Ten: Eggnog

Day Eleven: Naughty or Nice

Day Twelve: Snow

Day Thirteen: Sleigh Ride

Day Fourteen: Tree Farm

Day Fifteen: Decorations

Day Sixteen: Angels

[morgan-weston]

baby you can drive my car || serena & morgan

WHO: Serena Smythe @serenaxsmythe & Morgan Weston

WHERE: Vintage Car Show

WHEN: The 30th of September

WHY: Serena takes Morgan to a vintage car show, to get him distracted from not being able to work with his injured shoulder, and they go down memory lane.

NOTES: None

MORGAN:

Morgan stood in the midst of the vintage car show, the sun shining bright overhead as he admired a gleaming '68 Mustang parked nearby. He could feel the hum of excitement in the air, mingled with the scent of hot dogs from a nearby stand. It was a welcome distraction from the ache in his shoulder, still sore from moving hay bales a few days earlier. “Ain't that a beauty,” he asked her, a grin spreading across his face as he pointed at the Mustang. “That paint job is something else.” Serena had been so sweet, offering up her services to keep the tall cowboy distracted from the dull discomfort in his shoulder, and the fact that he was bored out of his mind, not being able to work. And somehow, they'd found something they had in common. “I can’t believe you actually like vintage cars,” he said, nudging her playfully. “I thought you were all about high fashion and fancy parties.”

SERENA:

As Serena stood beside Morgan, excitement bubbled within her. This outing felt different. Lighter and free from the tension of a first date. Though a flutter of nervousness danced in her stomach, it was overshadowed by the thrill of discovering their shared passion for vintage cars. She appreciated his authenticity, especially in a world where charm often concealed true motives. Her gaze landed on the Mustang, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Fashion isn’t just about clothes; it encompasses design in everything, even cars. Just like a well-dressed person, a car's appearance reveals its character.” Nostalgia washed over her as she continued, “It’s a fond childhood memory. My father would insist it wasn’t a place for little girls, but I nagged him until he took me. After that first time, he couldn’t argue with me anymore.” She smiled wistfully, then snapped back to the moment. “Omg, look at that one, Morgan! I heard the Rocket 88 was the first car with a V8 engine. It started the whole muscle car craze!

MORGAN:

Morgan watched Serena light up with enthusiasm, a smile tugging at his lips. Despite the throbbing ache in his shoulder, he felt strangely content. The car show wasn’t what he would’ve originally thought of, but their common interest in it made sense. And she was being incredibly sweet. She’d brought him here to keep his mind off the injury - and damn if it wasn’t working. “When I first met ya, I didn’t take you for a car enthusiast, Serena,” he drawled, his voice low and warm. He thought back fondly on that day when her car had broken down, and it felt more like she wanted to dismiss him than anything else. Look how far they'd come! “But you’re right - cars are like people. Some got style and class; some just get you from point A to point B.” He nodded at the Mustang, then let his gaze drift back to her. “Though I’d say you’re more of a ’60s Corvette. All elegance and power rolled into one.” He watched her cheeks flush, a small victory that made him chuckle softly. Shifting his weight slightly to ease his shoulder, he tilted his head towards the Rocket 88 she pointed out. “You’ve done your homework,” he teased. “Most folks don’t know their V8s from their flatheads. Guess I’ve got myself an expert guide today.” Her excitement was contagious, and he found himself wanting to know more - more about her childhood, more about these memories she shared so openly. “Sounds like your dad knew he was raising a strong-willed daughter. Good thing he let you tag along - look how much it stuck.” With a playful grin, he leaned a little closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Think you can find us the best-looking car here? One that suits a couple of troublemakers like us?”

SERENA:

Serena’s cheeks heated, and she ducked her head briefly, pretending to study the Mustang they were admiring. A small, almost private smile tugged at her lips as her fingers skimmed over the soft fabric of her caramel trousers, tracing the polished line of the crease. It was as if he’d flipped a switch. She’d never tried to befriend a guy she was attracted to, but she was sure she was doing a good job so far. Fighting the butterflies was easier when it was just his low, warm voice she had to ignore. But sweet compliments? That was her undoing. Her fingers twitched as if they wanted to reach out to him. Instead, she busied them by smoothing out the bottom edge of her blouse, pushing the want down and away, refusing to let it rule her. “I might know a thing or two, but don’t go thinking I’m some expert,” she murmured, lifting her gaze back to him. “Just passionate. And I clearly don’t know much about the mechanical parts, as you might remember all too well.” Her eyes briefly darted to his shoulder, catching the subtle wince he tried to hide. He was putting up a good front, but she could see through it. Even so, the focus he kept on her, the way his voice remained so steady and warm, made it easy to forget about his pain. She shifted closer, almost unconsciously, drawn in by his presence. “A friend is the proud owner of a Rocket 88. I keep trying to buy it, but so far I’ve only managed to drive it a couple of times,” she added with a light laugh. She never had real friends, but she wasn’t about to talk about the guys she’d only slept with to Morgan. It wasn’t the first time she noticed the urge to keep that part of her life buried—like she didn’t want him to think she was sleazy. The thought disconcerted her. Why should she need validation from a guy like Morgan? She shouldn’t be ashamed of who she was. She grew up owning the world, living on her own terms with barely any parental control. But still… There was this nagging feeling that he preferred sweet, pure girls—girls who didn’t have her kind of past. The thought stung, but she pushed it away, refusing to dwell on it. His low voice was so close, making a ripple of tension run through her. She resisted the instinct to lean back into him, to fall into the warmth of his presence. Instead, she scoffed lightly and shook her head. “Troublemaker? That’s rich coming from you. You’re a good boy, Morgan. You wouldn’t even know where to start if you had to cause trouble,” she teased, a smirk playing on her lips. “But you know what? Maybe that beauty does have all the right elements for the nice guy and his troublemaker.” Her voice softened, and she glanced back at the Thunderbird, the gleam in her eyes matching the car’s chrome finish. She let her gaze linger on his for a beat longer than necessary before turning away, pretending to be engrossed in the lineup of cars once more.

MORGAN:

Morgan chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Good boy, huh? You sure you got the right guy?” he drawled, letting his gaze linger on Serena as she tried to bury her blush behind a playful smirk. "I used to be familiar with a few LAPD cops, I'll have you know - and not in the buddy-buddy kinda way." He adjusted his stance, trying not to grimace as his shoulder protested, and took a slow breath to refocus. The pain was a reminder of all the chaos he was still untangling himself from. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he murmured, his voice steady. “Knowing the parts doesn’t matter much when you got the heart for something.” He let the words hang between them, then nodded toward the Thunderbird she was eyeing. “And if you’re thinking that car’s just for the ‘nice guy,’ I’m here to prove you wrong.” With a grin, he shifted a little closer, brushing his fingers against her back. Just for a second. It was the lightest touch. “I could show you a little trouble, Serena. Might surprise you what this good ol’ boy is capable of.” There was a sincerity behind his teasing, a promise that hinted he wasn’t just talking about cars or stirring up trouble for show. He wanted her to see more of him - the part that wasn’t just a cowboy nursing a bum shoulder.

SERENA:

When his fingers brushed her back, her breath caught for a moment. Not enough to be obvious, but enough for her to feel it. It sent a ripple through her. “Oh, really?” Her voice dipped lower, curiosity threading through her tone as she looked up at him. The small smile tugging at her lips didn’t falter, but there was a glint in her eyes now, a challenge. “I never pictured you as the outlaw type, Morgan. But it’s cute, you trying to convince me otherwise.” Morgan chuckled softly as they walked together, the steady hum of voices and revving engines blending into the background. Serena matched his pace, steps light and unhurried. “And what kind of trouble would that be, hmm? A parking ticket or were you just jaywalking?” She shook her head, scoffing softly but not quite pulling away. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’ve been around plenty of so called ‘bad boys.’ You don’t exactly scream dangerous to me, cowboy.” The playful banter between them seemed to linger as they weaved through the crowd, making their way to the far end of the show where the driving experience area was set up. A line of eager participants stretched ahead, but Serena paid it little mind, her attention firmly on Morgan. As they approached the area, she turned to him, her gaze flickering with amusement and curiosity. “You know,” she mused, her voice dropping slightly, “now I’m tempted to see if you can back up that talk.” Her fingers brushed against the edge of his sleeve, the light touch barely noticeable but enough to set off a small thrill. With a subtle smile, she stepped even closer, just barely grazing his arm with hers. “And since I'm clearly the one driving today let’s see how much trouble you’re willing to get into,” she murmured softly. By now, they had reached the start of the driving experience. A sleek Thunderbird stood parked and waiting, and the line had moved just enough for the instructor to wave them over.

MORGAN:

Morgan’s grin widened, a hint of mischief sparking in his eyes. “You’d be surprised, Serena. Might not have that ‘dangerous’ look you’re used to, but I reckon you’ve never met a cowboy like me.” He told her with his typical thick accent. He tilted his head, studying her expression with that same steady, unhurried gaze he used when assessing a green horse. Serena was different. Confident, bold, with a flirtatious edge that kept him guessing. He could feel her watching him, that challenge still simmering in her eyes, and it made something in his chest tighten. It’d be easy to brush it off, fall back into his usual self-deprecating charm. But for once, he didn’t want to play it safe. “Let’s just say I’m good at keepin’ things under wraps.” He let his voice linger on the words, eyes never leaving hers. “But get me behind the wheel, and you might see a side of me you didn’t expect.” When they reached the Thunderbird, he hesitated for a beat, glancing at her fingers resting so lightly on his sleeve. The touch was barely there, but it set off a small, electric thrill that had the hairs on his arm stand up. He leaned down, bringing his face close enough to catch the subtle scent of her perfume - something sweet and heady that made him want to take a step closer still. “So, you’re drivin’ today, huh?” His smile turned playful, gaze flickering from her eyes to the sleek car behind them. “Alright, Serena. Show me what you’ve got.” He said, as he moved to get into it.

SERENA:

“Oh, I’ve met cowboys before, I just never wanted to be around them. So I guess we could say you’re the only one I know,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement. “And okay, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it.” She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing with mock scrutiny. “I do like surprises.” As he spoke, something shifted in her posture. She stood a little straighter, leaning toward him just enough that the heat between them became palpable. The desire in her eyes deepened, her breath hitching slightly as she let herself get lost in the moment. “I wish you could show me,” she murmured, gaze dropping to his lips before flicking back to his eyes again. The words hung between them for a second but just as quickly, Serena broke eye contact, sighing softly and opening the Thunderbird door for him. “But with this shoulder, unfortunately, your inner bad boy will have to wait to spread its wings,” she continued, her tone shifting to something lighter, almost nonchalant, as she gestured toward his injured arm. “Alright,” she said, walking around to the driver’s side with a confident sway in her step. “Just don’t get too comfortable. I might be insane for all you know.” Her smile widened, a playful glint returning to her eyes. She slid into the driver’s seat, fingers brushing lightly over the steering wheel as she glanced sideways at him. “So, buckle up and hold on tight.” For a moment, she looked at him seriously, as if she were genuinely considering something. Then she laughed softly, her gaze softening. “I’m not risking your shoulder,” she admitted, then glanced at the expanse of the road ahead. “Besides, if I remember correctly, there’s a speed limit for these vintage car test drives, isn’t there? They won’t let us go over 60. Guess you’re safe this time, cowboy,” she added with a mischievous wink, her fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel.

MORGAN:

Morgan chuckled, low and rough, shaking his head as he eased himself into the passenger seat. “Only cowboy you know, huh?” he drawled, adjusting his position to avoid jostling his shoulder. “Guess I better make a damn good impression then.” When she glanced at his lips, his breath caught. He felt that pull again - the urge to close the space between them and test just how far this flirtation would go. But he swallowed it down, trying to keep his grin from softening too much. “I think I’m the one who should be worried,” he murmured, his gaze steady on hers as he clicked his seatbelt into place. “You’ve got me buckled in and defenseless. Who knows what kinda stunts you’re gonna pull.” Her laugh was soft, the sound wrapping around him like a gentle breeze, and he found himself relaxing just a little more. He let out a mock sigh of relief at her mention of the speed limit, smirking at her sideways glance. “Sixty, huh?” He tapped his fingers idly against his knee, feigning nonchalance. “Well, that’s a damn shame. Guess we’ll have to find other ways to push each other’s limits.” He smirked, looking over at her. “Tell you what,” he said, leaning back and watching her carefully. “Let’s see how you handle this ride, and then maybe we’ll plan a trip out to the open road once I’m back to full speed.” His smile softened, a hint of something warmer glimmering in his eyes. “No speed limits. No limits at all.” With that, he settled in, his gaze lingering on her face as she focused on the car. “Go on, then. Show me what I’m in for, troublemaker.” He looked over at her, a gentle smirk resting there on his face. “I’m ready when you are.”

SERENA:

“You already did," Serena said softly, her gaze lingering on his face for a heartbeat longer than necessary before she turned away to adjust the rearview mirror. “I wouldn’t have stuck around if you hadn’t,” she added as she reached for her seatbelt. She tossed a glance his way and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. He looked so endearing sitting there, buckled in and expectant. “Oh, you should be worried,” she teased, her voice dropping a notch lower. “If it weren’t for Sadie, I’d probably try to kidnap you and force you to take some time off that ranch.” Her lips curved into a playful smirk as she tightened the strap over her chest. “But a life of crime with a kid in tow might be a bit more than I can handle. And I’m certainly not leaving her behind.” She could feel his eyes on her, but she pretended to focus on maneuvering the heavy vehicle. She could so easily imagine pushing him to his limits right now... in all sorts of ways. She took a steady breath and focused on the road, but at his next words, she glanced sideways at him. “You just promised no limits at all… to a Smythe?” she asked, arching an eyebrow and then laughing softly, shaking her head. “You’re lucky you’ve met the mother version of me, Morgan. Old me would find it funny to shock you." He'd be so lost on how to handle her. As they pulled out of the venue, the car’s purr deepened and she carefully steered them onto the open road. The Thunderbird moved with a surprising smoothness, but it didn't have power steering, so each turn of the wheel required more effort than she let on. “This is the only thing I hate about these beauties, driving them is such an arm workout,” she muttered, flexing her fingers on the wheel with a grin. It was the first thing she changed in her personal cars. They passed rows of white picket fences and tidy craftsman style houses in silence then she glanced over at him. “So what was that talk about being familiar with LAPD cops?”

MORGAN:

Morgan raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across his face as he let her words sink in. “Kidnappin’ me, huh? You’d have your hands full, I promise you that,” he teased, leaning back against the seat. “Though I reckon I wouldn’t put up too much of a fight.” But when she mentioned Sadie, his smile softened, a different kind of warmth lighting up his eyes. He hadn’t expected that - hadn’t expected her to be so upfront about her daughter, especially with someone like him. It struck him, how easy she made it sound, as if he were someone who belonged in that part of her world. “You sound like a mom who’s got her priorities straight,” he said gently, his voice carrying a note of admiration. “Can’t say I’d mind gettin’ caught in a life of crime with you two, though. Sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than mendin’ fences all day.” He said, remembering what he was doing the exact day they'd met. He glanced over at her as she maneuvered the Thunderbird out onto the road, his gaze lingering on the way her hands gripped the wheel. She looked right at home behind it, even as she complained about the arm workout. “Well, you’re making it look easy,” he murmured, smiling at her with a mix of amusement and something warmer. “Guess I can cross ‘woman who can handle a classic’ off my list of things of things to know 'bout you." When she brought up the LAPD, his grin turned wry. “Ah, that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “I had a bit of a wild streak when I first came out west. I was fourteen, and all I wanted, was to go back to Montana. One too many nights of raisin’ hell - nothin’ serious, just the usual: neglecting school, underage drinking, vandalism.” He shrugged lightly, glancing out the window as if he could see the past playing out on the rows of houses they passed. “I spent a few nights cooling my heels in a cell, and the local cops got to know my name. But I didn’t stick around long enough to become a real problem.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Old me might’ve given your ‘shock factor’ a run for its money.” There was a pause, then he looked back at her, his expression thoughtful. “Guess we both got our stories, huh? Makes it more interesting this way.” He tilted his head, studying her profile. “So, tell me, Serena. What would the old you have done if I’d dared to promise no limits?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping low, just for her. “Because I don’t scare easy, and I’m curious what a Smythe could’ve come up with to shock a cowboy like me.”

SERENA:

Serena’s gaze softened. “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she murmured with a wry smile. He was hot and nice to her, it was safe to say she wouldn't mind it at all. And she had no idea what she was doing, but she knew she should stop flirting. At his comment about her priorities, she nodded lightly. “Yeah, I only decided to keep her after I was sure I was ready to make her my priority,” she admitted quietly. Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, and she shifted slightly, as if wanting to drop the subject. This was getting too close to a territory she didn’t want to explore today. And so she joked, light and airy, easing back into their usual rhythm. "Oh, sweet, innocent Morgan, you clearly haven’t been around kids enough." Her eyes glinted with humor. “Here's your first lesson: before you agree to going on a run with a toddler, you’ve got to test the waters first. Like having lunch with them or coming over for dinner, you know, something that gives you a quick exit strategy if it all goes south.” They laughed and then she glanced over at him, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “Hey what else is on that list of yours? I hope no one told you I can jump higher than Michael Jordan when I see a spider.” She laughed softly. “I don’t look very sexy doing it, so definitely not one of my finest moments.” As he finished recounting a story from his youth, she shook her head, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "God, I’m starting to think there’s a reason the universe didn’t let us run into each other until now." Apparently if they’d met years ago it would’ve been a disaster. “With teenage Morgan or adult Morgan?” she asked with a teasing grin. “Actually, don’t answer. Let me think about both, this is fun.” She pulled the car to a stop because her arms were hurting and leaned back against the seat, shifting so she was facing him. “So, let’s say teenage Morgan invites Serena to some underage drinking in the back of his truck,” she started, the teasing lilt in her voice hinting at where this was going. “But, of course, she’s extra. So before he knows it, they’d be on her father’s private jet. Which she only gets it off the ground by threatening the pilot with exposing his affair with her little brother’s babysitter. The woman, naturally, wouldn’t want any attention because she’s Russian and in the country illegally. So the jet takes off and they end up at some underground party in London where she’s been invited by some creepy guy off the internet who’s clearly pushing forty.” She turned her head, eyes meeting his to gauge his reaction, expecting to see some hint of judgment. But there wasn’t any. It was Morgan. He always managed to surprise her with his acceptance. It made her heart squeeze uncomfortably, made her feel something she didn’t want to name. “Then, I’m sorry, but you’d probably be stuck in the middle of that club, currently regretting all your life choices, while I’d be off getting into some wild sex with the creepy old guy.” She smiled, a little sad, a little wistful. “But I’d come back for you, I promise. Oh, and it’s a school night, and your grandparents are the type to actually worry about you. So, you’d get grounded for three months, banned from ever seeing me again. And I’d just… go back to my empty life with my two faced friends who only stuck around because of my money. And no grounding for me, of course, because Mother would be off shooting another movie somewhere and Father would be too busy to even notice I was gone.” Her words lingered in the air, the underlying sadness of them more apparent than she intended. She shook her head, forcing herself to smile, the humor returning to her gaze. “Now, old Serena and current Morgan…” she trailed off, her gaze flickering to his lips, her thoughts racing.

If he had rejected her like he did now, a couple of years ago, she’d have gone after him like a storm. Tried to bankrupt him, spread rumors, make Puck hate him with a steady stream of lies. Hell, she’d have sought out that other woman involved with them just to tear her down too. All because she wouldn’t have been able to stand the thought of a man she didn’t even have feelings for not wanting to have sex with her after their date.

But she wouldn't say that. Poor Morgan. Puck ghosted her for a week and she didn't even know about them. She couldn't imagine the hard time Puck gave him after their date so instead, she shook her head, forcing her voice into a light, teasing tone. “The more I think about it, the more I realize, admittedly with some terror, that I’d kidnap you to force you into having fun,” she concluded, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.

MORGAN:

Morgan listened to Serena’s story with a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips, even though her words tugged at something deeper inside him. The way she framed it - wild, reckless, with an underlying sadness that she tried to hide - made him feel for her more than she probably realized. She spoke like it was all in good fun, but he could hear the loneliness in her voice, the way she masked it with humor. “Damn, you know how to paint a picture,” he said softly, watching her as she leaned back, her gaze flicking to his before drifting away again. He wasn't about to make light of his actual thoughts. “But you’re right... teenage Morgan wouldn’t have stood a chance in your world. Probably would’ve gotten grounded for a lot longer than three months. Would’ve spent those nights wonderin’ what I did wrong.” He gave her a small, lopsided grin, though his eyes softened, catching on the vulnerability she was trying to push aside. “But I’d have come back too. Even if I had to sneak outta the house just to see you.” His voice had a warm undertone, genuine, almost like he wanted to reach across and make her believe him. Morgan let out a low chuckle as she teased him about kidnapping him for fun. “Well, I guess there are worse fates than bein’ forced to have a good time. ‘Specially if it’s with you.” His grin widened as he turned to look at her more fully. “I think I’d survive whatever you’ve got planned.” There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, his voice quieter this time, more thoughtful. “Serena, you’re not that girl anymore. I mean, the one from your story. You’ve changed, and it clearly shows. I’m not sayin’ it to flatter you, it’s just what I see.” He met her gaze directly, his sincerity cutting through the teasing air between them. Morgan leaned back in his seat, his injured shoulder still aching but forgotten for the moment. “Maybe the universe kept us apart for a reason, but right now? I’m kinda glad it didn’t let us miss each other completely.” He flashed her a playful smile, softening the serious tone he’d let slip.

SERENA:

Serena felt his words sink in while she stared at the center console, suddenly finding it far more interesting than it should have been, his gentle sincerity cutting through her playful facade. Her instinct was to deflect, turn the conversation light again, but something about the way he looked at her, like he actually saw her, not just the persona she put on, made it harder to do that this time. Her lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes softened as she met his gaze. "Well, teenage Morgan sounds like he’d have been a fun one to sneak around with," she said, the teasing lilt in her voice masking the way his words tugged at her heart. She looked away but then glanced back at him, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features, her usual bravado giving way to something softer. "You really would’ve come back?" she asked, her voice quieter now, almost uncertain. Her eyes held a trace of surprise, like she was genuinely taken aback by the idea that after everything, teenage Morgan would have wanted to see her again. Her fingers brushed lightly over the leather seat as if grounding herself. "I mean, I used to be so... mean and God, I was always furious. I probably would've found a way to ruin it," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. When she finally met his gaze again, there was a flicker of hope in her eyes, a silent question she didn’t dare voice aloud. She wondered if, despite everything, she could have been worthy of someone like him back then. And more importantly, if she was worthy of whatever this was between them now. There was a pause, a brief hesitation as she considered his last words, the ones about her not being that girl anymore. She wanted to argue, to say that girl was still very much a part of her, lurking under the surface. But he wasn’t wrong. She had changed. "Maybe I have," she admitted, her voice quieter now, the vulnerability she usually buried surfacing for just a moment. "But there’s a part of me that’s still tempted to do some of those things. I guess not the wild party part because I don't have the energy anymore," she chuckled softly, then looked him straight in the eyes. "But I'd like to be unawarely selfish again. Teenage Serena always had what she wanted no matter how many people she would break on the way to get it." She regretted, almost instantly, letting the conversation drift into deeper, more vulnerable territory. This day was meant to be fun, a distraction from his pain. She glanced at her watch, a small smile tugging at her lips as she caught his gaze again. Her mood lightened visibly as she reached for the ignition, turning the key and bringing the engine to life. "Alright, enough of this heart to heart therapy session," she quipped, her voice playful again. "You know, if you and your damn charming and nice words keep making me do it, you'll need to charge me for emotional support." With a grin, she shifted the car into gear and glanced over at him. "We’ve still got some time and there’s something I want to show you."

MORGAN:

Morgan watched Serena closely, seeing the vulnerability she let slip through, even if she tried to cover it up with her usual teasing. It made his chest tighten a bit, knowing that behind her bold confidence was someone who had been through a lot, who was still figuring out how to let herself be seen. His smile softened as she talked about teenage Serena, and he chuckled lightly at her joke about being selfish again. "Well, I dunno about teenage you, but I’m pretty sure the Serena sittin' next to me now knows what she wants - and knows how to get it - without breakin’ people in the process." He glanced at her, his voice warm but laced with understanding. When she mentioned charging him for emotional support, he chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Hey, I didn’t mean to turn this into a therapy session," he teased, though there was a tenderness in his voice. "But if it helps, I don’t mind. Besides, I think we’re both a little guilty of peelin’ back some layers today." As the engine roared back to life and she shifted into gear, Morgan settled back into his seat, the playful mood returning between them. "Something to show me, huh?" He raised a curious eyebrow, glancing over at her with a grin. "Well, I’m all for surprises today. I’m ready to see what you’ve got up your sleeve."

SERENA:

Her hands gripped the wheel as they drove through the sun soaked streets of LA. "This place we’re going, it’s kind of a childhood thing. We spent our summers in LA before I was sent to boarding school. I haven't been back in a while, but when I saw the vintage car show was happening right around the corner... well, it seemed like the universe was pushing me. Especially considering I'd be with you of all people." She glanced at him briefly, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smirk. "But fair warning: you laugh and I’m leaving you there."

The car coasted to a stop in front of a small café tucked between other low key storefronts, the kind of place you might miss if you weren't looking. As they walked toward the entrance, she noticed Morgan glance back at the vintage car, his expression hinting at some concern. She smirked and nudged his arm lightly. “Don’t worry,” she said with a knowing grin. “I pulled a few strings. The event organizer owed me a favor, so we’re good to go. No one's going to come after us for driving it around a little longer.” She shot him a playful look, confidence radiating from her.

Inside, the café was quaint but brimming with personality. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air and the walls were lined with framed photos of famous faces who had passed through over the years. As they approached the counter, a young woman probably in her early twenties looked up and smiled brightly.

"Serena?" she asked, clearly recognizing her. Serena flashed a grin, leaning on the counter. "Hey, Isabella. Your grandma still running this place or has she finally let you take over?" Isabella laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, you know her. She’ll be here till she’s 100. Let me grab her." The young woman disappeared into the back, leaving Serena to glance around the familiar surroundings. "This place hasn't changed much," she murmured, more to herself than to Morgan.

A moment later, an older woman came bustling out from the back, her face lighting up as soon as she saw Serena. "¡Mi niña!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Serena in a warm, familiar hug. Serena hugged her back, laughing softly. "Hola, Abuela. Ha pasado mucho tiempo." The old woman’s eyes shifted to Morgan and her smile widened as she turned to him. "Ohh, tu esposo es muy guapo!" she said with a wink, pulling Morgan into a hug as well. Serena burst out laughing. "Not mi esposo, Abuela," she corrected, shaking her head as the old woman patted Morgan’s shoulder and grinned. "Ah, bueno, novio entonces," the woman teased and Serena shot Morgan a look, amusement dancing in her eyes. "She’s not wrong, you know. You are handsome." They chatted for a while, Abuela asking about Serena's life in LA and reminiscing about family gatherings.

As more costumers stepped in, abuela got distracted and Serena nodded toward a wall near the back of the café, motioning for him to follow. “Come on, the embarrassing part’s this way.”

As they approached the wall, she watched Morgan’s eyes flicking over the photos of celebrities: actors, musicians and other famous faces, each one framed and carefully preserved. But she stopped in front of one that was all too familiar. It showed a beaming seven year old Serena, standing front and center in an adorable cowgirl outfit, complete with a wide brimmed hat and a plaid dress. Her grin was wide, her eyes bright and behind her stood her parents, both looking amused and proud.

"Yeah," she said, groaning softly as she crossed her arms. "That’s me. Mother thought it’d be 'so cute' to dress me up for some rodeo themed event. I didn’t really have a say in it. When you're seven, your parents make all the questionable fashion choices for you." She glanced at Morgan, half expecting him to start laughing.

"I’ve been avoiding this place for years because..." She trailed off, yeah, not today Satan. Serena couldn't believe being around him now meant she wanted to tell him everything she's never told anyone. "I just figured you'd find it funny." She turned to face him fully, her expression softening. She searched his face for a reaction, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Go ahead, get it out of your system," she teased. "I know you're dying to say something."

MORGAN:

Morgan followed Serena into the café, his eyes taking in the cozy atmosphere, the old photos, and the smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He couldn't help but smile at the warm way Serena was greeted, a glimpse into a softer side of her that he hadn’t seen before. When "Abuela" hugged him, Morgan was slightly taken aback, but he let out a chuckled, feeling a little flustered but in a good way. He didn't understand what was being said between them, the most he'd learnt from his Spanish lessons in high school was 'dos cervezas por favor'. A slight blush crept up onto his face when Serena kind of translated things for him, and he cleared his throat, not exactly knowing what to say. "Gracias," he said, offering the older woman a kind smile. As Serena led him to the wall of photos, Morgan’s gaze flicked over the celebrities and framed memories, until she stopped in front of the one of her as a kid. The moment he saw it, a smile crept across his face. The sight of little Serena in that cowgirl outfit, with that big, goofy grin, was too good not to appreciate. But he could tell by the way she was bracing herself - arms crossed, groaning softly - that she was expecting him to laugh. He didn’t, though. Not in the way she thought he would. Instead, he turned to her, grinning but with a soft light in his eyes. "Damn, Serena, you were cute as hell," he said, his voice warm with a hint of teasing. "I don’t know what you’re groaning about. You look like you’re ready to take on the world in that hat." He let out a light chuckle, shaking his head. "Honestly? I think it's kinda perfect. You in a cowgirl outfit? Might be fate." He glanced back at the photo, taking it in for another moment, then looked at her, his expression gentler now. His eyes locked with hers, and his smile softened. "And hey, you pull it off better than most, even at seven."

MORGAN:

Morgan followed Serena into the café, his eyes taking in the cozy atmosphere, the old photos, and the smell of coffee that lingered in the air. He couldn't help but smile at the warm way Serena was greeted, a glimpse into a softer side of her that he hadn’t seen before. When "Abuela" hugged him, Morgan was slightly taken aback, but he let out a chuckled, feeling a little flustered but in a good way. He didn't understand what was being said between them, the most he'd learnt from his Spanish lessons in high school was 'dos cervezas por favor'. A slight blush crept up onto his face when Serena kind of translated things for him, and he cleared his throat, not exactly knowing what to say. "Gracias," he said, offering the older woman a kind smile. As Serena led him to the wall of photos, Morgan’s gaze flicked over the celebrities and framed memories, until she stopped in front of the one of her as a kid. The moment he saw it, a smile crept across his face. The sight of little Serena in that cowgirl outfit, with that big, goofy grin, was too good not to appreciate. But he could tell by the way she was bracing herself - arms crossed, groaning softly - that she was expecting him to laugh. He didn’t, though. Not in the way she thought he would. Instead, he turned to her, grinning but with a soft light in his eyes. "Damn, Serena, you were cute as hell," he said, his voice warm with a hint of teasing. "I don’t know what you’re groaning about. You look like you’re ready to take on the world in that hat." He let out a light chuckle, shaking his head. "Honestly? I think it's kinda perfect. You in a cowgirl outfit? Might be fate." He glanced back at the photo, taking it in for another moment, then looked at her, his expression gentler now. His eyes locked with hers, and his smile softened. "And hey, you pull it off better than most, even at seven."

SERENA:

Serena’s eyes stayed in the photo, her expression hovering between amusement and something more guarded. She turned to Morgan, eyebrow raised as she caught the smile tugging at his lips. "Glad the outfit’s cowboy approved." She crossed her arms, leaning one shoulder against the wall, her smirk sharp and deliberate. “Maybe one day I'll show you my equestrian phase. Riding boots, braids, the works. It was a whole thing,” she teased, her tone light but a little cutting, like she was daring him to make fun of it. She glanced at the photo again, and this time her voice softened, though her guard remained. "Mother was so beautiful. I mean, she still is, but with a few more lines around her eyes now. She keeps saying this next role will be the last time she plays anyone who’s not someone’s grandma." She chuckled, but there was an edge to it. "Guess we should just be glad she didn’t try her hand at fashion design. Could’ve been worse.” She caught Morgan’s eyes again, her smirk returning, this time tinged with something wry. “But hey, you think I pulled it off so maybe she wasn’t totally wrong after all.” When he talked about fate, she shifted her weight, flicking her fingers like she was dismissing the tension. “Anyway, we’re not here for a stroll down memory lane. Let’s grab some coffee before I get too nostalgic and you definitely start charging me for emotional support.” Just as they were moving away, Abuela bustled over with two cups of espresso on a small tray. “Para ti mi niña y tu novio guapo.” she said with a wink. Serena sipped the coffee then eyed his cup with a raised brow. "Wait, what’s your coffee order? We can swap it out if you’re not an espresso guy." She glanced over at abuela, amused. "Classic latina move, bringing food or drinks without asking what you want first. She’s known my order since forever so I’m covered, but you? Better speak up before she decides you’re a straight up black coffee drinker for life."

MORGAN:

Morgan chuckled softly at Serena’s teasing, shaking his head. “Equestrian phase, huh? I’m not sure I can picture you in braids and riding boots, but I’d bet you pulled it off, too. You seem like the type who makes everything work.” His tone was light, playful, but there was an underlying warmth, a hint that he appreciated these glimpses into her past, no matter how sharp her smirk might be. When her voice softened, and she spoke about her mother, Morgan caught the edge in her chuckle. He knew that tone well - it was the sound of someone trying to brush past something that mattered more than they were letting on. He didn’t press, though. He just listened, nodding slightly as she joked about her mother’s potential fashion career. “Could’ve been worse,” he echoed, his smile gentle. “But I think you turned out alright, cowgirl outfit and all.” As her Abuela bustled over with the espresso, Morgan had no clue what was being said, but he accepted the the espresso with a polite nod, grateful for it, though he couldn’t help grinning when Serena ribbed him about his coffee order. “Espresso’s fine,” he said, taking a cautious sip. The strong, bitter taste hit his tongue and he winced, though he tried to play it off. “Alright, maybe it’s a little intense for me, but I can handle it.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “But if she brings out anything stronger than this, I might need your help bailing me out.” The playfulness in his voice masked some of the tension still lingering in his chest - the weight of everything with Puck, with Eva - but being here with Serena, laughing and teasing like this, made it all feel a little lighter. For now, at least.

SERENA:

Serena let out a laugh. "Trust me, it wasn’t glamorous. More falling off horses than gracefully riding them. But yeah, I totally pulled off the boots." She shrugged, her smile widening, enjoying how easy Morgan was to talk to. "I hated it, mother forced me, but four classes later I managed to convince father I should do swimming classes instead. Which I also didn't like, but at least it didn't involve horses." She watched him take a sip of the espresso, catching his wince. Her smirk deepened. "Tough guy, huh? You’re lucky she didn’t bring out the real stuff. Abuela’s got some secret stash of liquor that I swear could take paint off a wall." Serena paused, the word "abuela" lingering on her lips. She tilted her head, reconsidering something, and then added more casually, "She’s not actually my grandmother, you know. She’s my mom’s aunt. I started calling her 'abuela' the minute we met when I was three or something and no one bothered to correct me until years later. Turns out, my biological grandma died when I was a baby." She finished her espresso and straightened up, her eyes flicking back to Morgan. "Anyway, we better get going. This is gonna kick in and I’ll be bouncing off the walls. You'll want me busy with something then." She joked, pushing herself off the counter and giving him one last playful glance as she walked to the back to say goodbye to abuela. Of course, the old woman came out to bid farewell to Morgan too, while Serena chatted briefly with Isabella. When they finally started to make their way back to the car, Serena glanced at Morgan with a small, amused smile. "Abuela said you have kind eyes, but I should be careful anyway."

MORGAN:

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle at Serena’s laugh and her playful description of her equestrian days. The image making him grin. "I'm sure ya could still pull off those types of boots." Was he flirting? Absolutely. He raised an eyebrow at the mention of the espresso, glancing down at the small cup like it might bite him. “This stuff could probably knock me out for a week,” he admitted with a wry smile. “I think I’ll pass on the secret stash. I’ve survived a lot, includin' homemade moonshine, but something that could take paint off a wall? I’m not sure about that one.” Her explanation about "abuela" softened his expression. He could see the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way she spoke a little more thoughtfully. “Makes sense,” he said quietly, his voice carrying the same casual tone she’d used. “Doesn’t matter if she’s not your actual grandmother. She’s family, and that’s what counts.” Morgan finished his espresso with a small grimace and followed her lead as they left the café, catching the warm farewell from the older woman. He smiled, not entirely sure what she had said, but catching the friendly tone. “Gracias,” he muttered again awkwardly, though he knew his pronunciation was off. Serena probably caught it. As they walked toward the car, he shot her a sidelong glance, amused by her last comment. “Kind eyes, huh?” He shook his head with a small smile. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Though, knowing my luck, she’s probably right to tell you to be careful.” His tone was light, but there was a flicker of something more behind his words - a hint of his own guardedness, the weight of his recent heartbreak lingering just beneath the surface. He opened the car door for her with his good hand. “So, what’s next on the agenda? I’ve already survived espresso and abuela. You’re not planning on testin' me with anymore death traps, are you?” His smile turned playful, the tension between them easing as they settled back into their banter.

SERENA:

Serena couldn't help but laugh at the look Morgan gave his cup. God helped her, but the only word in her mind for it was cute. “Yeah, Latin distilled beverages have a way of being on another level,” she said, a playful glimmer in her eyes. “The day I tried Cachaça was the day I realized maybe I don’t need to taste everything to know I don’t like it.” She chuckled, shaking her head at the memory. “But I loved Caipirinha. It’s sweet and girly,” she added with a wink. However, her smile faded slightly as he spoke, his lighthearted tone contrasting the heaviness she felt inside. “Oh, it has nothing to do with you,” she replied quickly, fully aware that her attraction to Morgan was as obvious as the sun. Deep down, she recognized the potential for things to end badly and abuela’s instincts were as sharper as her own. “Always quite the gentleman,” she said, stepping closer to him, her gaze locking onto his. The world around them blurred and for a moment all she could focus on was the warmth in his eyes. She had half a mind to joke about how he’d need to be fully healed for the other adventures she had in mind, but the weight of her thoughts shifted. “You’re a good person, Morgan,” she said, her voice softening as she reached out. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?” She squeezed his hand, the sudden urge to hug him washing over her again, and then slid into the car.

MORGAN:

Morgan smiled at Serena’s laugh, feeling the warmth of her amusement lift the air between them. “Cachaça, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll take your word for it. Sounds like one of those ‘once is enough’ kind of deals.” Her playful mention of Caipirinha earned a chuckle from him. But the moment shifted when she moved closer, her words hitting something deeper than the lighthearted banter they’d been trading. He felt her gaze steady on him, and for a second, the world outside the car, the café, even the pain in his shoulder, faded into the background. There was something in the way she looked at him, something that made it harder for him to brush off her comment like he would have with anyone else. When her hand found his, he froze for a moment, surprised by the sudden softness in her voice. 'You’re a good person, Morgan.' The words hit him harder than he expected. A part of him wanted to pull away, to deflect like he usually did, but the sincerity in her eyes held him there. “Thanks, Serena,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual. He felt the urge to say more, to tell her how much he appreciated her, how much her presence these past few days had helped, but the words stuck in his throat. As she slipped into the car, he lingered outside for a beat, taking a deep breath before joining her. “Alright,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat with a soft grunt, his shoulder still reminding him he wasn’t at full strength. “What’s next on the agenda? ‘Cause after all this, I feel like I owe you a proper thank you - maybe even something that doesn’t involve near-death espresso experiences.” He shot her a grin, hoping to lighten the mood, but his heart was still caught in the warmth of her words.

SERENA:

Serena felt her heart pounding in her chest, the rapid beat unsettling her more than she'd like to admit. She quickly blamed it on the espresso, but... Touching Morgan had sparked something deep inside her and the sudden intensity of it annoyed her. Intensely. She should just call Puck and ask to fuck his boyfriend so she could get it out of her system, but she knew since she started acting like a boring adult this was the real world and that would lead to far worse consequences than the constant undercurrent of tension she was feeling. She stole a glance at Morgan, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. "I don’t know, what do you want to do now?" she asked, her voice steady. "We could check out the parts and accessories they’re selling for vintage cars if you're looking for something. And there's this band called The Retro Tones playing at the main stage in half an hour." She paused, her attention momentarily shifting to the road as she guided the car, her hands tightening on the wheel to navigate a tricky curve. "There’s also a restoration workshop coming up where they show how they bring these old cars back to life." A broad grin spread across her face. "Or we could stick around for the awards, my favorite part. They’ll be handing out trophies to the best cars and you might even get to vote for your top pick." Her gaze drifted to his injured shoulder, concern flickering across her face. "But maybe the agenda should be getting you home to rest, Morgan. You think you can handle more or are you ready to call it quits?" When they arrived back at the vintage car show, Serena tossed her hair over her shoulder, scanning the scene. The familiar hum of engines and chatter filled the air. “I need some water,” she announced, pointing toward a nearby vendor before shooting Morgan a quick glance. "Are you hungry? They’ve got food trucks here: burgers, tacos, fancy hot dogs and those absurd nachos that come loaded with everything you can imagine. Fancy anything?"

MORGAN:

Morgan noticed the way Serena kept her eyes on the road, her tone steady but a little too controlled. He could feel the tension between them simmering beneath the surface, though she did a good job of pretending it wasn't there. He appreciated the distraction she offered, rattling off options for the rest of the day, but he couldn’t help but sense that there was more going on behind her calm exterior. "I don’t mind checking out the parts and accessories,” he replied, leaning back in his seat with a small grin. “You never know, I might be able to find somethin' for one of my many projects." He caught her concern as it flickered toward his shoulder. It was a sweet gesture, though he wasn’t about to admit it was starting to ache more than he let on. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he assured her, his voice softer now. When Serena tossed her hair and started walking toward the vendor, he fell into step beside her, his gaze sweeping across the rows of classic cars gleaming in the sun. “I’m up for whatever, really. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a car show this big before, so might as well make the most of it while we’re here.” He glanced at her, catching the way the sunlight danced in her hair. “And as for my shoulder, well, I’d say it’s holding up pretty well. Got you to thank for keeping me entertained, after all.” He let out a breath, the lightheartedness in his voice masking the weight of his own thoughts. The truth was, being around Serena was easy, but it stirred something in him too. There was an attraction there, one he couldn’t ignore, but also a complexity he wasn’t ready to unpack. "Let's share some of those fun nachos," he suggested, giving her a smirk to see if she'd be up for it. "Then, we can take a look around, and if we’re still here when the band plays, well, maybe we’ll catch a few tunes." He shot her a grin, the tension between them still simmering but kept just beneath the surface.

SERENA:

Serena walked beside Morgan, her eyes scanning the array of gleaming vintage cars. She caught the easy grin he wore, but she had spent enough time perfecting the art of masking her own tension so it was possible to recognize it in others. She could sense his shoulder was bothering him more than he let on and she wasn’t sure how long he intended to keep pretending it wasn’t. “Honestly,” she began after a moment, her voice thoughtful now, “I think this is one of the biggest car shows in America. We were lucky it was happening nearby. I mean, we could use Father’s private jet to go anywhere, but I don’t know if you'd trust me after I left teen Morgan by himself in London.” She laughed, glancing over at him, and then catching the way he was looking at her. For a split second, the tension between them felt palpable. As they walked, the crowd thickened, the hum of conversation and distant engines filling the space between them. Serena felt the pull of Morgan’s presence beside her, the ease of it and yet there was that familiar undercurrent too… attraction, curiosity, the unspoken tension she was trying not to dwell on. "One nacho and water, please," she said when they reached the food truck. Turning back to him, she asked, “What are you drinking?” When they got their order, Serena eyed the nachos but didn’t seem entirely committed to the idea of eating them. After a brief pause though, she reached for one, plucking a chip from the pile with a laugh. “Hope you don’t mind. I can't finish a whole one, so maybe I'll just steal a couple from yours.” They found a table nearby, the sun warming the pavement underfoot. Serena nibbled at the nacho she’d taken, leaning back in the chair casually.

MORGAN:

Morgan walked beside Serena, the vibrant energy of the car show buzzing around them, but his mind was only half-focused on the gleaming vintage cars. He could feel her eyes on him, and while he appreciated her concern, he didn’t want to dwell on his shoulder. “I’m fine,” he reassured her with a soft smile, trying to mask the twinge that shot through him with each movement. Her laughter broke through his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Oh, come on, that was ages ago,” he replied, playing into the made-up scenario, shaking his head. “I’ve forgiven you for that one.” He chuckled. As they moved deeper into the crowd, the tension between them felt almost electric. Morgan couldn’t shake the feeling that he was teetering on the edge of something - something he was unsure he was ready for, especially after everything that had gone down with Eva and Puck. But Serena was a distraction he needed, even if it complicated things further. When she ordered the nachos, he raised an eyebrow, a playful grin creeping onto his face. “You know, that sounds like a great way to share.” He grinned and picked up a drink from the vendor, watching her as she plucked a chip from the pile. It was a simple gesture, but it felt significant, like a bridge being built between them. They found a table in the sun, and he took a moment to let the warmth sink in, letting it distract him from the ache in his shoulder and his heart. He took a bite of his nacho, savoring the cheese and jalapeños, and shot her a sideways glance. “So, stealing chips is your strategy for making friends, huh?” Her laughter was contagious, and for a moment, he let himself forget about the weight of the past. “You know, I think we might just make a decent team,” he said, feeling lighter. As they settled into the rhythm of conversation, Morgan found himself wishing that this moment could stretch on forever, and it was all thanks to her. "Thank you for doin' this, Serena. I've had an amazing time with you."

SERENA:

When he thanked her, there was something genuine in his tone that made her pause. Serena felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, the laughter in the air and for a brief moment she wished this day would never end. “Don’t get used to it,” she said lightly, though her gaze softened. “But… yeah. Who’d have thought babysitting a grown man could be so funny?” She smirked, teasing, then sighed, feeling a tug in her chest. “Yeah, I’m having a good time too.” The easy banter between them continued as they ate, talking and laughing like it was second nature. Despite the unspoken tension that lingered beneath the surface, the moment felt effortless, comfortable. She barely touched the nachos, though, picking at a few chips while Morgan enjoyed the rest. When he finished, she casually pulled out her phone and checked the event’s program. “Looks like the booth for the car parts is over there,” she said, pointing in the distance before checking the event map again. “Hey, I know the vendor. Father buys stuff from them back in New York. Tommy’s Vintage Auto Supplies. Ever heard of them?” When they arrived at the booth, Serena took a look at it and said, "Charming mix of rustic and polished." There was an old wooden table covered with chrome parts, leather wrapped steering wheels, vintage emblems and gleaming hubcaps. Metal racks behind the table displayed retro car radios, classic gearshift knobs and vintage license plate frames. The air smelled faintly of oil and leather, the unmistakable scent of a car lover’s paradise. Serena’s eyes lit up as they landed on a sleek, polished steering wheel with a wooden grip. “Oh, look” she said, showing him. “I’ve always liked the feel of a Nardi Classic. I think they were the gold standard back in the day.” She stepped aside to let him get a better look, her gaze shifting to a vintage hood ornament shaped like a leaping jaguar. She laughed softly. “I think this should come with a warning label."

MORGAN:

Morgan chuckled at her teasing, shaking his head as he finished the last of the nachos. “Yeah, well, I’ve always been a handful,” he replied with a grin, though the warmth in his chest from her words was hard to shake. As they strolled toward the booth, Morgan’s eyes wandered over the vintage parts on display. The rustic setup, the smell of leather and oil, it all had a familiar comfort to it. “Can’t say I’ve heard of 'em, but this is impressive.” He tilted his head thoughtfully, running a hand through his beard. When Serena pointed out the Nardi Classic steering wheel, his smile grew. She had an eye for quality, and it was clear she wasn’t just throwing around car terms to impress him. “You’ve got good taste,” he said, running his fingers over the smooth wooden grip. “That’s craftsmanship right there. Definitely the gold standard. Wouldn’t mind getting my hands on one of these for my truck someday.” As she moved aside, giving him space to check out the parts, Morgan found himself glancing at her more than the shiny chrome and vintage gearshift knobs. The way her eyes lit up when she spoke, the way she seemed so comfortable in her own skin - it made him forget, even for a moment, the ache in his shoulder and the mess he was trying to untangle in his mind. When she laughed at the leaping jaguar hood ornament, he let out a low chuckle. “Yeah, that thing’s got trouble written all over it. Can’t imagine anyone needing to drive that fast, but I bet it makes you feel like you’re about to race in the Grand Prix.” He gave her a playful nudge with his elbow. He took a step back, taking in the entire booth before his eyes settled back on Serena. There was something about the easy banter, the way she seemed to get him without trying too hard. He didn’t expect this kind of connection today - hell, he wasn’t even sure he was ready for it. But the more time he spent with her, the more it felt like maybe this was exactly what he needed, even if it came with complications.

SERENA:

Serena’s heart skipped a beat when he complimented her taste. It was something she took pride in, so hearing it from Morgan hit differently. She turned to him with a slow smile, trying to downplay how much it actually meant. "Well, I’d hope so. I don’t settle for second best." As he kept talking, she pictured how perfect that Nardi steering wheel would look in his truck. She started scheming then, trying to think how she could buy it now without Morgan noticing so she could surprise him later. When he nudged her, she let out a light laugh, feeling heat spread through her body. Jesus Christ, get a grip, she thought. The tension between them had been humming under the surface all day and now even this small, innocent contact felt almost too much to handle. She could feel herself leaning in, even though she knew better, her breath hitching for just a second when their hands brushed. "I had a friend in college like that," she said, her voice lighter than she felt. "He was fun, but I had to stop hanging out with him because I was legit afraid for my life. Guy drove way too fast, always miles above the speed limit." As they continued checking things around, her eyes landed on a part she couldn’t place. It looked like a complicated, intricate piece of machinery. She leaned in, furrowing her brow as she studied it. "What is this?" She turned to Morgan with a half smile, genuinely curious but stumped. Her dad had exposed her to enough cars over the years so she thought she knew her way around an engine.

MORGAN:

Morgan caught the shift in Serena's smile, and it tugged at something deep in him. There was a spark in her eyes that made him feel like the whole world could slow down for a second, just the two of them standing there, surrounded by car parts and chrome. He chuckled softly, shaking his head when she mentioned not settling for second best. “I can see that,” he said, his voice low but warm. “You’ve got high standards - nothing wrong with that.” But when their hands brushed, he felt that familiar pull, the one he’d been trying to ignore since they’d arrived. The simple touch sent a jolt through him. Morgan glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, catching the slight hitch in her breath, the way she seemed to be leaning just a little closer. It would’ve been so easy to close that space between them, to give in to the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all day. But he couldn’t, not yet. His heart was still tangled up in knots from the mess with Puck and Eva, and diving into something with Serena before he’d sorted himself out wouldn’t be fair. He forced a chuckle, focusing on her story instead. “Yeah, sounds like your friend didn’t have much of a sense of self-preservation. I had a buddy like that back home - never knew when to slow down," he said, shaking his head at the memory. “Had he caught teen Morgan living in L.A., it would've been a different story, but I guess I’m more of a steady pace kinda guy these days.” Morgan grinned at her confused look. it was half curiosity, half frustration. A look that he found way too endearing. He leaned in a little, taking a closer look at the piece of machinery. “Ah, that’s a carburetor,” he said, his voice casual as he pointed to it. “Regulates the fuel and air going into the engine. Old-school tech. Not as common these days with fuel injection, but folks restoring vintage cars love 'em. Adds that classic touch.” He glanced at her, his grin softening. “Looks like your dad taught you well, though. You’ve got a good eye for this stuff.” There was a warmth in his voice, admiration that he didn’t bother hiding this time.

SERENA:

Serena listened as Morgan explained the carburetor, her eyes narrowing with mock attentiveness before she smirked at how seriously he went on about it. She couldn’t resist breaking the moment. “Oh, Professor Morgan, no need to try so hard,” she mocked in a girly voice, tilting her head slightly, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “We never listen to anything you say, we only attend your class because you’re sexy.” She laughed softly, and moved on to the next display. As they checked the accessories, her mind wandered. She was getting carried away now and she had to remind herself of her priorities. Puck came first. Normally that would mean cutting Morgan off before this went any further. Yet, there was something about him... He wasn’t just anyone anymore. She wanted him around, even if it meant fighting her own desire all the time. It wouldn't take too long for her to meet someone else to be stupidly attracted to, anyway, she was sure of that. And then she'd definitely move on. They continued through the exhibit, checking some polished vintage hubcaps, vintage steering wheel knobs and classic leather driving gloves. They should’ve been what caught his eye, but when Serena glanced over, he was looking at her. Subtlety, clearly, wasn’t their game. She stopped by a table lined with more polished vintage parts and accessories, her eyebrow arching playfully. “You see anything you like?" Ok, so she wasn't helping herself here. "I mean, anything you need for your projects?” she asked then, her eyes sliding toward him with an amused look.

MORGAN:

Morgan couldn’t help but chuckle when Serena teased him about the carburetor, shaking his head with a small smile. “Oh, is that right?” he drawled, playing along with her mockery, though his cheeks turned into a deep shade of red. He didn't do compliments very well, that was for sure. “Well, in that case, I’ll be sure to keep the lectures to a minimum. Wouldn’t want to ruin my sexy professor image.” He winked, but there was a quiet humor in his eyes, a warmth that came from the easy rhythm they’d found together today, and a slight hesitation in his voice, not exactly knowing if it was the right response to such a statement. As they moved through the exhibit, he tried to keep his focus on the parts in front of him - steering wheels, hubcaps, and all the polished chrome. But every time his gaze drifted, it found its way back to Serena. The way she moved, the way she laughed - there was something magnetic about her, something that pulled him in, even when he knew he should be keeping his distance. After all, he was still reeling from his breakup with Puck and Eva, still trying to sort through all the emotions that mess had left behind. Jumping into something new wasn’t supposed to be on the agenda. But here he was, caught in the gravitational pull of Serena Smythe, unable to stop himself from looking at her when he should’ve been checking out the vintage car parts. When she asked if he saw anything he liked, there was no mistaking the playfulness in her tone, the challenge in her gaze. Morgan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slow grin. He knew what she was doing, and part of him wanted to play along, to lean into the flirtation and see where it went. “I see a lot of things I like,” he replied, his voice casual but with a hint of something deeper. His eyes met hers, lingering for a beat longer than necessary before he glanced back at the table. “But as for what I need? Well, that’s a little trickier.” His tone was light, but there was an undertone of meaning that neither of them could ignore. He wasn’t just talking about car parts anymore. He reached for one of the polished leather driving gloves, running his fingers over the smooth surface before setting it back down. “These are nice,” he said, his voice quieter now, as if the weight of the moment had settled between them. “But I think I’ve already got everything I need. I'm just not sure what I’m looking for right now.” Morgan leaned back, catching her gaze again. There was a spark there, something unspoken but unmistakable. But he wasn’t ready to step into that space, not yet. It was too soon, and his heart was still too raw. “I appreciate you dragging me out here,” he added after a moment, his tone softening. “I needed this. Not just the cars, but the company. You’ve got a way of making things feel lighter, Serena.”

[kilosch]

Journal Entry: 10/11/2024

Slow Start & Mental Overload at Work: Today started with me waking up and feeling like I had nothing urgent to do since it’s Friday. I was surprised to find out that there was a leadership meeting happening—I almost missed it. Thankfully, it wasn’t anything serious or time-sensitive. I decided to dive into my usual work and started catching up on CTC tasks, managing to complete 12 patient factsheets.

As I worked, I couldn’t shake how overwhelmed I was feeling. The workload was starting to feel like too much, especially since I had been handling three Teamlets on my own. I needed help, and I finally admitted it. I asked George, one of the staff assistants who used to be an EMT, whether Ruby had been pulling her weight with the CTC tasks. His response was frustrating—he told me Ruby hadn’t been doing her share. I couldn’t believe it. Ruby only handles two Teamlets while I manage three, plus referrals, and somehow, she’s still behind? I felt myself getting frustrated. I vented to Nessa about it, and she wasn’t happy either. Both Nessa and George told me to stop overworking myself and offload some of the tasks before I burn out. Nessa reminded me that I wasn’t useless just because I wasn’t doing everything, saying, “You’re not even close to doing nothing—you’re doing a thousand things!” It hit me, and I realized she was right. I promised them both that I would try to chill out and stop pushing myself too hard.

Coffee & Frustrating Accompaniment: To clear my head a bit, I grabbed coffee at a small shop in Pasadena, enjoying a moment of peace before heading to LA General Medical Center for an accompaniment. Since LA General is part of DHS, I didn’t have to go through security, which was nice. Plus, I got free valet parking—definitely a fancy perk that I wasn’t expecting. Everything was going smoothly until I got a text from the patient, telling me they didn’t want to go to their appointment anymore. Just like that, my trip felt like a waste of time. I was frustrated, to say the least. The patient apologized, but it didn’t change the fact that I had driven all the way there for nothing. I texted Danel, the RN in charge, to update him on the situation.

With the appointment canceled and nowhere to be, I decided to spend some time in the hospital courtyard to clear my mind. I bought a snack from the in-house store and sat there trying to calm down. I was still feeling tired, having only slept for two hours the night before, so I figured I’d wait out the traffic before heading home.

Emergency Activation: Active Shooter on I-5 Just as I was leaving the hospital and hitting the road, I got an emergency activation from LASD about an active shooter situation on I-5 near Boyle Heights. My adrenaline kicked in immediately. I quickly activated the sirens in my personal car, threw on my hoodie over my DHS scrubs while driving, grabbed my service pistol from my bag, and called Dispatch to attach myself to the call. The report said shots had been fired in what seemed like a road rage incident, and there were multiple shooters. The information was limited, but I knew I needed to get there fast.

As I arrived on the scene, CHP officers had already blocked off I-5, causing a major traffic jam. The challenge was getting through all the traffic to reach the incident. People were staring as I pulled up in my old 2003 Toyota Corolla with sirens blaring—it must’ve looked out of place next to the CHP cruisers and unmarked vehicles. As I was getting closer, a CHP officer came sprinting toward me, asking for the password to confirm I was authorized to be there. I yelled the code that Dispatch had given me over the phone, and once I got the thumbs-up, I parked and grabbed my gear—my plate carrier, rifle, and radio headset.

CHP gave me a quick briefing, explaining that the shooter was still at large after firing shots at another driver. More off-duty officers started arriving, including a narcotics officer I’ll call “T” who was driving a Honda Odyssey with sirens on. We all got the same briefing, and LAPD took over command of the scene since it was their jurisdiction. After a few more units arrived, we were told to meet at a Jack in the Box parking lot to coordinate the next steps in the manhunt.

Joining the Search & Tension on the Scene: Once at the parking lot, I teamed up with “T” and some of the other reserves. As we geared up, “T” noticed I was still wearing my DHS scrubs and joked, “Are you a nurse?” I explained I was in healthcare, but I was here to assist. We all gathered in the lot for a debrief, and more unmarked cars and SWAT guys started showing up. The scale of the operation was growing. After the briefing, we began driving around nearby neighborhoods, searching for the suspect’s vehicle based on the description CHP had given us. I staked out an open lot, watching every car that passed by for any sign of the suspect. The situation was tense, and I messaged Nessa, telling her to enjoy her 3-day break. I made it sound light, but I think she could sense I was in a serious situation.

After about an hour of searching, the LAPD command finally gave the order to stand down. They hadn’t found the shooter, and CHP was still keeping the freeway closed for their investigation. I was exhausted by that point, so I headed home.

Dodgers vs. Padres Game 5 & Neighborhood Fireworks: When I got home, I turned on the TV to catch Game 5 of the Dodgers vs. Padres NLDS series. The game was already in the second inning, and I tuned in just in time to see Kike Hernandez hit a home run, giving the Dodgers a 1-0 lead. The next few innings were intense, but the game really came alive in the 7th inning when Teoscar Hernandez smashed a 4th-pitch homer, making it 2-0. The Dodgers held onto their lead, and after the 9th inning, the game ended with a shutout win. The Dodgers were officially heading to the NLCS! The whole neighborhood erupted in fireworks as soon as the game ended—everyone was celebrating.

Dinner & Teaching My Brother Gunsmithing: For dinner, I ate leftovers from the night before with my little brother. Afterward, we spent some time doing gunsmithing. I showed him how to upgrade parts on my AR-15 22lr, and he was really into it. He’s always been interested in building things, like computers, so now he’s hooked on gunsmithing. We even did some dry-run drills around the house, which he loved.

Reflecting on the I-5 Incident: Before going to bed, I checked the news for updates on the I-5 shooting. The manhunt was still ongoing, and CHP hadn’t reopened the freeway. I felt a mix of relief and exhaustion, knowing that I made it through the day without getting hurt. It was a long day, but I was glad to be home, safe.

Tomorrow is the weekend, and I’m feeling a bit more motivated. I might clean the house and try to relax. We’ll see what the day brings.

[heyitschartic]

Okay, let me give you the definitive Chartic ranking here

1. Waffle House - This is the GOAT. Great food, fast service, this is the place you head to after a LONG night of drinking to get eggs and waffles so you can make it through the hangover. I voted against this, though, cause I wanna go with you next time we hang out.

2. Cheesecake Factory - Cheesecake Factory is a testament to American hubris against God. I've had pasta at this place that was more sauce than noodle. The food is decadent, rich, and absolutely disgusting. This is the kind of restaurant that those of us who live in flyover states consider "the fancy place in town." Horrifying.

3. Taco Bell - Taco Bell ranks so highly on this list because I don't think there is anything more distinctly American in fast food. Not even McDonalds. The food is mediocre attempts at tex-mex classics twisted into something else and covered in syrupy nscho cheese sauce. It's somewhere you go after consuming questionable substances to put a few more in your body. I used to eat here twice a week.

4. Red Lobster - Red Lobster is a holdover from a bygone era. This place should not exist and limps along, with a customer base almost as old as Congress. I don't know why people go here, yet they do. The food is decent, though. It's very hard to screw up Lobster, or deep fried shrimp.

5. Chipotle - Chipotle is lucky it scores so high, and only because it's an easy meal to get. The food is *okay*, but that's it. It's nothing. I could go here and forget it happened before I finish the meal.

6. Chili's - Chili's is where you pound back dollar margaritas and eat deep-fried chicken sticks before crashing your car in the parking lot.

7. Olive Garden - Olive Garden is just boring. It's where Suburbanites take their families to have microwaved pasta and cheap wine before driving home to a dead neighborhood in Bloomington. The food is fine. It's whatever. Just go to a real Italian place. Go to Buca di Beppo instead. At least you might get to be at the table with the pope statue.

8. Macaroni Grill - It's like Olive Garden, but even less memorable. They try to pretend they're a little higher class, but the food is just as bad. At that point, why not just go to a real restaurant?

9. Arby's- A nothing of an experience. It's not interesting, it's not fun, the food is bleh. The only reason to ever go here is if you're a divorced dad looking for the worst sandwich if your life.

I'm amazed you don't have golden corral on here. Feels like that's another quintessential American experience. When I was a little girl from a poor family, it felt like going to a place where you could just eat forever was magical.

I wish there were like, a pyramid ranking of these places. I've done TGI Friday's and Denny's.

[an-assistants-musings]

A Memory

When the Empress had to travel for her final role, due to unforeseen circumstances, we were not given our usual driver from the Director, but instead, forced to call upon our own car service. This was much to the chagrin of myself and the other assistants. When I reported such instances to her, she took it in stride, stating simply. “You worry too much. It’ll be fine, the drive isn’t far.” 

“But it’s rude to make you travel like this. He should treat us better. And anyway, how could he forget?” I complained, as we waited on the street for the service to arrive. We had been waiting for a while then, the driver was running ten minutes late. The air that night was thin and cool, with a slight breeze that was enough to slightly chill you, the night lights glittering throughout the street like golden jewels. 

Before the Empress could even reply, the car skidded to a halt in front of us, burning the road with the putrid scent of rubber, and splashing us with filthy water except for the Empress, much to our indignation. He then lazily rolled down the car window. We immediately began to cough as the smell of cigar wafted out of his car, a lit Cuban cigar in his hand. He was a rather loathsome creature of a man–his teeth yellowed, his fat head completely bald save for a few pathetic wisps of grey that circled upon his head like a cuckoo’s nest, and beady eyes that stared at us greedily, making our skin crawl. He grunted out her name and we quickly nodded in shock. He then motioned his thumb to the back, not even bothering to get the car door for her, though in hindsight it may have been a blessing as to even stand around his pungency and see even more of him would have been detestable. I, of course, opened the door for her, only to be further disgusted by the sight inside. 

A haze of smoke filled the car, obfuscating things in a slightly blurred fashion, burning my throat and causing me to immediately cough again. The seats were torn and filthy, the leather worn and shredded in various places. The floor was completely littered with wads of tissues, plastic wrappers, and other trash that I chose not to examine too closely for the sake of my sanity. As we were already running late though, and it was too late to call another car, we were forced to quickly enter, despite our reservations. 

We rode in awkward silence. The only sound was of him loudly chewing, while he blasted some horrendous rap song on the radio to the point of grating all of our ears. All of us, despite our exhaustion from the day, were much too afraid to fall asleep in such a car, lest we be kidnapped or not taken to our destination. Finally, he began, much to my annoyance, to speak. 

“So, y’all rich fellas or somethin’? Never see the likes of ya ride with guys like us.” He said, laughing to himself as if he had something amusingly clever. 

“How did you know?!” 

“Could tell by your clothes. You dress too fancy.” He said, clearly unaware of my mockery. 

“Ya know, I have a rich cousin too, he is wearing all that supreme stuff. Made money on cryptocurrency.” 

“Fascinating, tell me more about it.” 

And so he did, droning on for the rest of the car ride. After what felt like years off of my life, we finally arrived at the hotel. We quickly exited the hellhole of a vehicle, not even bothering to thank him as we desperately desired fresh air, having been trapped in such unpleasant fumigations. The only one to stay behind was our dear Empress, who quietly spoke to the driver for a minute, before exiting 

When I later inquired her on what she had asked him, she said with a soft smile and laugh that she had thanked the man for his entertainment and tipped him for his services. I found myself in a state of shock at such kindness despite his unpleasantry, though this would not be the first nor the last time.

[idontexist-justvibes]

Street Signs

TW: abuse. that’s all my account is. it’s writings about my experience as an abused child.

I am scared of street signs. 

Specifically the ones that tell you the speed limit. 

It didn’t matter much when I was younger. I could read a book or play with my Barbies and I was none the wiser to which street signs we passed on our drives. 

It got a bit more complicated when I started driving on my own. Operating a vehicle was stressful enough without the overwhelming panic that set in every time I had to look for the speed limit. I had to get one of those fancy cars with the screens that told you what the speed limit was, simply because I couldn’t look at the signs on the side of the road like a normal person. 

We couldn’t afford it. But my mother saved up all her money, and helped me get a loan, and she made it work like she always did. Instead of being excited, I felt bad the day she pulled up in my shiny new car that was more expensive than anything she’d ever bought for herself. 

It wasn’t her fault that I was so scared of something so stupid. 

I’m scared of a lot of stupid things. Most of them have a story behind it, but some of those stories I can’t even remember now. It’s funny, because most of the things that terrify me are things I used to love. 

Wild flower fields, nightlights, television remotes. Diving boards, showers, ashtrays, beer cans. I’m scared of the smell of cigarette smoke and pink dog collars and christmas-tree-patterned wrapping paper. I’m scared of exercise machines, I’m scared of eating too fast, I’m scared of street signs, and I’m scared of him. 

I used to love most of those things. The things I’m most scared of. Or, at the very least, I thought I did. Maybe my brain just blocks out some of the reasons they terrify me so much now. And sometimes it’s easy to think that they don’t scare me. That I’m only being dramatic. 

But then I remember the car, and my mom, and the feeling of absolute panic when I so much as think of a speed limit sign. I’m not being dramatic. 

It’s not her fault, though I’m sure she blames herself. I blamed her for a while. But I didn’t tell her until I was 12, and I didn’t let on to just how bad it was until I was 18 and he legally had no claim over me anymore. I didn’t want to deal with any more Child Services Agents and I knew she would make me. He’d already given up visitation rights, anyway. 

Oh, yeah: I’m scared of Child Services Interviews. 

I’m sure my mother blames herself, but it wasn’t her fault that she had a kid with a monster. She didn’t know. She couldn’t have. I had made sure she didn’t. 

I often wonder if all kids in my situation have so many irrational fears. I wonder if they remember the reasons behind those fears. I only remember half of my own stories, really. I tell people I was too young to remember. My therapist disagrees - she says I probably just blocked out the trauma. 

All of my irrational fears have a story, and every single story relates back to my singular rational fear: him. 

But this story is about street signs, and I do remember that. 

This story starts in a PT Cruiser. There’s a five-year-old bouncing in her seat with her hand out the window. She has known pain at this point, but she luckily doesn’t remember. This story starts with laughter, and the desire to be helpful, and a called out “35 miles per hour!” to which Mamma laughs along. 

This story ends in a Dodge. There is an eight-year-old crying in her seat with her head against the window. She has known pain at this point, and the new bruise on her cheek will not let her forget. This story ends with tears, and the burn of a cigarette on skin, and a shouted “I know the damn speed limit” from a father who does not know the monster he has started to create. 

This story ends with a fear of street signs.