#but a lot are just going through the motions

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][established relationship][oral (f! receiving)][fingering][shower sex][wrongful use of water][wet t-shirt][temple kisses][i don't make the rules, but there's a lot of them][grinding but not where you thinkkk~][maybe food play, idk][just the tip][missionary][mating press]

Wally had a plan.

A good plan, relatively thorough, and romantic. All of which were crucial to whether or not this date would go good.

A good, sweet morning wrapped up in the loving embrace of your arms, paired with the sweet, tightness of your cunt cockwarming him while the sun rises from just below the horizon. With the feeling of your fingers carding through his hair, your lips ghosting over his jaw and murmurs of sweet 'I love you's in the air.

Then, you'd have breakfast that HE learnt how to make. Through numerous WikiHow articles and YouTube tutorials.

Then, you'd go about your day where flowers would be mailed to your job, and the two of you would have a nice lunch. Specifically, a picnic in the park and for dinner, you'd have take-out and the scallions in the soup would be shaped like cute hearts, because if your love is in soup, it's eternal.

But noooooooooooo.

The universe has a fucked up way of ruining the speedster's hopes and dreams.

The takeout place burns down, the flower company doesn't get his order, he oversleeps so he doesn't get to make you the whole, magical experience of cockwarming while he feeds you breakfast.

"I'm sorry." Wally murmurs softly. "I should've planned better."

Rain continues to soak through his shirt, the fabric getting heavier and clinging to his torso in the way that makes your eyes linger, a slow smile spreading on your face as you unabashedly watch the way the shirt sticks to his tightly toned belly. Abs on display in the most demure yet slutty way.

"It's okay."

You reassure softly, although your eyes don't move from where you can see his nipples through his shirt.

"Are you seriously staring at my nipples?" Wally let's out a choked laugh, dimples deepening in his cheeks as he looks down at you, gingery hair wet and clinging to the back of his neck, as well as his forehead.

Your outfit's less soaked than his.

Seeing as he made a makeshift gazebo with his windbreaker, using his speed to his advantage to tie the arms to the lowest hanging branches and tucking either of the ends between messy and spiky edges of the branches.

Too small to accomodate both of you but good enough to keep you from thoroughly soaking your plaid Chanel skirt and you shift, your boots scuffing against the wet grass.

"Yeah." You hum softly. "They're so cute and like, hard."

Reaching out, you press down one of his perky nipples and Wally snorts. "Freak."

"Come stand with me. You're gonna get a cold." You chide Wally with a huff, grabbing the front of his shirt and tugging him out of the rain, his body pressed against yours and strong, muscular hands move to bracket your hips, his thumbs brushing over the flesh your fluffy knit sweater fails to over and he looks down at you.

Fucking hearts in his eyes.

The moment seems perfect right now. Raindrops pelting around you, the sound of wet grass sloshing underneath your boots as you shift at the feel of nipping cold and a warm hand moves to cup your cheek as Wally leans down, his lips pressed against yours. It's so sweet.

He kisses you like it's the only slow thing he'll ever do. Lips moving against yours in a slow, synchronised motion that you both seem to fall into so flawlessly, his hand on your hip shifts and instead, his arm's wrapped around your waist while your own hands interlace at the nape of his neck.

You can barely hide the giggle that leaves you when you feel the way Wally's hand lowers, taking the sweet and romantic opportunity to slide his hand beneath your skirt. Damp digits paw at the fat of your ass and you pull away.

"Creep." You mock him, nipping at his bottom lip and you see the pretty twinkle of his eyes as he stares down at you, a grin on his face, freckles dusted over his rosy cheeks.

"Guilty." He hums softly, before leaning forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"We should get out of the rain, yeah?" There's a low huskiness to his voice, a sweet yet sultry tone that hints that there's a lot more waiting for you at home than there was waiting for you at the park.

And you nod your head, bashful and adoring as you murmur a soft 'mhm'.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

Hot water sprays down on your skin, and you let out the softest sigh, frozen bones easing at the warmth before the shower door is abruptly opened and Wally stands in all his freckled glory.

Hair still damp from the rain, that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Scoot over." He instructs, but he's already stepping over the threshold of the shower, shutting the door behind him and readjusting the showerhead to spray more in his direction.

Wally's always been a bit of a selfish showerer.

His body nearly presses yours against the tiled walls as he soaks up the scalding water, letting out controlled breaths before meeting your narrowed gaze and he lets out the softest little breath. And he reaches towards the temperature dial, shifting and switching it, until the water's a pleasant, lukewarm temperature before he hums.

"Upsy-daisy." He lifts you with ease, your knees hooked over the crooks of his elbows, your back pressed against his chest and he presses a sloppy kiss against your temple.

"Wally, what are you— oh..." The gruff complaints die in your throat when Wally shifts your body towards the shower stream, your thighs spread obscenely wide as the solid stream of water pelts down against your clit, and you purse your lips, brows knitting at the pleasure that's not quite enough to get you anywhere but it's nice enough for you to not want it to stop.

Wally hums in pride, freckled cheeks splitting into a grin as you feel the muscles of his core flex absentmindedly, his cock twitching to life, hardening and pressing itself against your neglected cunt. And he presses the sweetest kiss against your cheek, loving and adoring before he breathes your name so sweetly.

"Help me out?" He coos softly. "Just the tip, though. I wanna make you feel good."

You nod your head, biting your bottom lip as you reach down between your thighs, grabbing a hold of his cock and you give his tip a few swipes of your thumb, feeling the way his breath hitches against your back before you ease his flushed tip into your hole.

Just the tip.

Wally can't help the way he sighs at the warmth of your cunt, wrapped so sweetly around his leaky tip as you spasm so subtly. And he clicks his tongue, his hips twitching and giving you the most shallow thrusts, all as he reaches for the showerhead, detaching it and bringing it closer.

"Wally, I don't think—"

Your opinion dies quicker than you'd like to admit because when the water pressure changes, and Wally's controlling the placement, you feel your head tip back against his broad chest. Your lashes flutter closed and faint moans leave your parted lips as your thighs tense and flex, although they're still kept in a long distance relationship.

"You look so pretty." Wally coos sweetly, cheeks flushed and his wet body feeling slightly cold at the breeze that creeps into the bathroom and he dips his head, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before asking you, so sweetly.

"How do you wanna come?"

That question has no business making your cunt drool, walls and nerve endings burning with that sickening desire to come as many times as you can and you swallow.

Sure, this feels great but nothing beats—

"Your tongue and fingers."

You sigh softly, bringing up one hand to curl in his wet hair, nails scratching at his scalp so affectionately.

"Nasty, greedy girl. Tongue and fingers?"

Wally teases you but he wastes no time in setting you on your feet, placing the showerhead back on its spot and kneeling in front of you.

The muscles in his thighs spread out, his core tensing and his cock twitching upwards at the water that pelts down onto the two of you. It's a comforting spray, warmer than before so Wally must've changed the temperature while you were trying to find your brain.

And he guides one of your thighs to rest over his shoulder, the heel of your foot bumping against his back and Wally presses a kiss against your inner thigh. And he places your hands on his head, before lowering his head.

He drags his flattened tongue over your cunt, tasting your slick and feeling you throb against his tongue and he groans softly. Your fingers tangle in his hair, head tipping back against the condensating tiles and you let out the softest sigh. Your tummy tenses when he swirls his tongue around your clit, just before he dips it into your cunt, only for a little bit.

He can taste himself just a bit, the taste of his precum has drastically improved since you've started seeing each other.

Maybe because instead of living off energy drinks and take out, Wally's seeing fruit on a daily basis, instead of treating it like a distant relative.

Two fingers plunge into your cunt at a speed that makes your belly dip inward and your hands fist his hair tighter, a low moan leaving your lips and Wally lets out a boyish giggle.

"Yeah. Does it feel good?" He coos softly, juniper gaze lifting to glance up at your face, seeing the way your brows scrunch in that adorable way, the way your lips part to let out whimpers and whines as his tongue rolls around your clit, suckling at the bud until you let out a pitched moan.

Wally hurls you at your oncoming orgasm with the strength and speed that a cat knocks a glass off the table. And you nearly scream, your knees giving out beneath you but Wally keeps you steady as you buck against his face, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to draw out your orgasm for as long as possible.

Because he loves watching the way you crumble against a damp, tiled wall. Hair clinging to your forehead, face ruddy and hot breaths mingling with the steam in the air and you look so fucking gorgeous when you look down at him through bleary eyes. Watching as his tongue cleans up the slick that paints your puffy pussy with glossiness, licking along your thighs before Wally rises, forearms braced on either side of your head before he smiles down at you, head cocked and he presses a kiss against your forehead.

"You good, pretty?"

You can barely nod your head as Wally's hands move to bracket your hips, thumbs brushing over the protruding bones as his head dips to press kisses along the curve of your neck. Before his hand shifts, to squeeze the fat of your ass, feeling the flesh in his calloused palms and he groans softly.

"Shit." He breathes out before swallowing. "Okay, we're gonna finish showering, then you're gonna order pizza while I get the room ready and then we're gonna... Fix this Valentine's Day, okay?"

This is the most instructions Wally's ever given you. Literally ever.

And you can't deny that it's kind of sexy.

˚˖𓍢ִִ໋❤️་༘🎀˚˖𓍢ִ🌹˚.

"Wally, I'm eat—" Your words are broken up in a gasp, cheese, sauce and doe tucked into either of your cheeks and you shift, letting out a slurred whine while Wally's hands pry your thighs apart.

"Don't be selfish." Wally hisses, his tongue curling against your overstimulated clit, sensitive bud peeking out from between your folds and he forces your legs apart, your plate resting on your belly, and Wally lays down on his stomach as he sucks your clit so sweetly, peeking up at you over the decorated porcelain rim of your plate. And you whine, completely unsure of which route to take.

You could keep eating.

Or Wally could keep eating.

"Just keep eating." Wally's nose bumps against your clit, his tongue tracing hearts over your cunt before he flicks it just right, and he rests his head against the flesh of your thigh.

And he doesn't even pretend that it's tedious.

Delightful hums leave his lips in the form of low, reverberating groans, his grip on your thighs borders on almost clingy as he paws at whatever flesh he can get to and his sock-covered feet kick. You don't even have the time to question why his socks has your pictures on it before he's tucking two fingers away in your gummy walls.

Gently curling them, sweetly coaxing you towards another orgasm that has your heels digging into his back, your eyes rolling back and your hand nearly dropping the cheesy slice. And you whimper.

"Wally... 's too much, too sensitive...—" You gasp with a whine, lashes fluttering and tears brimming at the corners of your mouth as his fast flicks and his eagerness make you see God.

Wally ignores you.

Blatantly.

Only lifting his head to scowl at you before ducking back down, his feet kicking and his hips occasionally grinding against the messy sheets, a perfect hill for him to rub against like an animal in heat.

Needy, whiny and so, so achingly hard.

He lets out a familiarly whiny groan, tears brimming on his lower lashline, green eyes becoming bleary as he sucks, nips, drags his tongue and circles. All in perfect movements and God, being a speed freak really had it's perks.

Including the fact that he had the uncanny ability to make you come whenever he wanted to.

A walking, talking vibrator.

Wally coaxes your third orgasm out of you, slick dribbling down his chin and his palm, before he lifts himself, carding his fingers through his hair and staring at you with a heated gaze.

His broad chest heaves, his carved abdomen tenses and flexes, and his hands rest on your thighs, warm palms easing the almost painful burn in your core, and your gaze lowers. Lowers all the way to below that gingery happy trail and you swallow.

"Wally, did you come?" You question softly, lips pursed as you try not to let out a snort of laughter as pearly beads continue to be pushed out with each twitch of his still-hard cock.

"I got really into it." He's not even embarassed, simply moving the messy sheets out of the way and guiding your thighs over his, and notching the flushed tip of his cock at your sopping, slick-soaked pussy.

And he pushes into you, hands grasping the sheets before he stops. Abruptly.

"I need to pull out." Wally announces and you wish you could say he was joking. But his expression doesn't say he's joking.

"Like, right now?"

"Literally right now. Please don't move. I'll lose so much aura, baby, please. Keep still."

Wally begs you, and like a normal woman, and a woman in love, you obviously start to clench and spasm around his leaky tip. And Wally whines.

"You're gonna make me come..." He whimpers, bringing his hand up to bracket your face, forcing you to look away from him.

Wally knows you'll never let it down if you see the way he looks. All red and flushed, weak and teary-eyed as he tries to keep his cool.

He doesn't get why now, of all times, his stamina's playing games with him but he does know one thing.

"Can I come inside?"

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[starlightsreigns]

daddy lessons | a lemonade story

summary ⇢ mellie finds solace with the people who brought her life. six months feel like a lifetime without him, but her daddy warned her about men like him, so where does she go from here? word count ⇢ 2.5k tag ⇢ none. | five ; accountability “My daddy said shoot”

My daddy warned me about men like you

There’s an under-appreciated peace at your parent's house when you’re in pain. They don’t judge the hurt you're feeling, and they don’t ask questions when they can feel it in their bones that their daughter just needs their support. My mom can read my mind and it’s been like that since my younger years — she has that special ability to know exactly what the problem is without me uttering a word. 

“Mellie, baby, come eat.” she stands beside the couch. “You can finish your show afterward.” 

Her hands pull me off the couch, then lead me into the dining room where my dad is waiting. He sports a sad smile when we meet eyes, but doesn’t say anything. I know it’s because he doesn’t know what to say besides cracking a joke. 

Breakfast is quiet. My fork scraps against the side of the plate. Usually, I’d scarf down whatever my mom makes, but eating is the last thing I want after the last couple of weeks… and months… and year that I’ve had. It leaves me nauseous and anxious. 

My mom leaves the table after a while, taking the silence with her. My dad finally clears his throat but it’s impossible for me to look up at him. I know he’s going to try and give me advice, but as much as I love him, it’s not what I'm looking for. 

Came into this world, daddy’s little girl

“I know this isn’t what you want right now, Mel, but listen.” My dad sets his utensils down. “You don’t have to tell us what’s going on with Roman, but you Mellie, you’re stronger than that.” 

Defeat fills my entire body at his words, but he continues. 

“I love you, Melody, you’re my only baby girl and I don’t like seeing you upset. It hurts my heart.” 

Finally, the dam inside me breaks. The tears fall across my creek and my chest tightens in an attempt to keep my sobs at bay. My dad moves to the chair beside me and wraps his arm around me, cradling me against his chest when the sobs finally escape my body. 

“It’s okay, let it out.” He hums. “You can’t let this break you, Mellie, this won’t break you.” 

My breaths choke out, “It hurts, I trusted him and –” 

He stops me, “I never wanted you to go through something like this.” His voice chokes out. “It took a long time for your mom to ever forgive me, but I never want you to feel like this defines you or that you have to stay in something like this.”

When I was in middle school, my parents went through the roughest part of their relationship. He cheated on her with a coworker, and my mom who’s usually the nicest person, went on a bender filled with rage. I felt the coldness in the house and how much hatred she carried for over two years. For the longest time, no one was sure they’d ever get back together. It took separation and a lot of therapy for it to even be a conversation for them. 

“I know, papa.” I sigh. 

We sit in silence for a little while longer. My eyes shift up, hearing the clicks of my mom’s heels. She offers us a small smile and beckons us to follow. In the living room, she had it set up for a movie day. The couch was filled with blankets, more food on the coffee table and the lights turned down. 

But at this moment, I’m thankful that neither of my parents brought up the famous I told you so. They initially had concerns about me getting married. They love Roman, they really do, but his career made my mom question how the space would affect us. My dad said he saw a piece of him in Roman, and as bad as it is to say, I wish it wasn’t this part. The infidelity that broke my mom is now breaking me. 

He said, “Baby girl he’s playing you” 

“Mellie, you have a visitor.” My mom stands in the doorway. 

A groan slips past my lips as I turn to look at her. She motions me out and then disappears before I can get out of bed. I shuffle out and down the stairs. At the last step, Roman stands there with my dad. It’s tense. My dad is staring at Roman with his hands stuffed into his pockets. The look on his face forces Roman to stare down at the ground. 

“Dad,” My hand lays gently on his arm, kindly nudging him away but he only takes a step. 

“You can talk to her,” He grits. 

My heart pounds through my chest. I turn to my mom who is standing in the living room awkwardly. How can I plead for them to leave us alone? This is already too much and I can’t handle a conversation with him when they’re standing beside us. My mom finally looks at me and sees the look in my eyes and nods. 

“Hun, c’mon, let’s leave them.” She walks over and grabs his arm. 

“I don’t trust him, baby, I can’t let him keep playing my daughter.” 

A chill runs up my spine as my dad takes a step closer to Roman. It’s an involuntary movement for me to move up and block Roman from my dad. I’m not sure why I want to protect Roman from the ass-whooping my dad would so graciously give him, but there’s a piece of me that doesn’t want to see him bleeding on the floor. He’s still my husband.

“Dad, please, just let me talk to him.” I smile softly. “Twenty minutes and I’ll be back inside.”

For a moment, while his eyes are still locked on Roman, I’m sure my dad was ready to jump across me and tackle him to the ground. Thankfully, he nods and steps back into my mom. 

Outside, I sit on the porch swing. Roman stands near the door and takes a deep breath. It makes me laugh softly. 

“I’m happy that made you laugh,” Roman hums with a small smile. “I thought he was gonna shoot me.” 

“He has his shotgun in there, it’s still possible.” I glance in his direction. “What are you doin’ here, Roman?”

Roman carefully sits beside me on the swing, “I know you don’t wanna see me, Mellie, but I can’t go every day without seeing you.” He glances at me. “I know you’re here and safe, but I just have to see it myself.”

The cool air makes me wrap my arms around my shoulder and then lean up. I keep my eyes on the driveway to try and come up with any words. My mind swirls with too many thoughts and too many different emotions. As I zone out, I feel Roman’s jacket on my shoulder. It doesn’t make me move but instead close my eyes. 

“It doesn’t make this any easier, Roman, seeing you all the time doesn’t help me figure out where we’ll go from here.” I finally look at him. “I love you with all my heart and that’s the problem. I love you so much that I can’t step back and truly feel all the emotions.” 

He nods, “What can I do? I can’t be away from you, Mellie, but I want to fix this.”

The heavenly smell radiating off of Roman’s jacket makes my head spin. This is the closest we’ve been in months and it makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. Two months can feel like a lifetime. I wrap his jacket around me tighter and sigh. 

“There’s so much hate in my heart, still, I wish the love was enough but I can’t remember any of the good.” 

Silence follows. Neither one of us knows how to continue. 

A question hammers through my brain like a drum. It’s something that has been tucked away since coming to my parents' house. If me and my mom could forgive my dad for his mistakes in the past, why can’t I move past this with Roman? If I love Roman the way I know I do, why can’t I allow us to rehab it?

The sound of the front door opening pushes the thought away. My dad steps a foot out and looks in our direction. He motions me inside and it reminds me of when I was younger and guys would come around – they were never allowed in the house and we had twenty minutes on the porch before he’d eventually tell them to go the hell home. Something never changes with my dad. 

So, because I know he’d pull me into the house, I stand and start towards the door. 

“Mel, please come home.” Roman grabs my hand. “Please.” 

Focusing on my dad for a second, but he surprisingly doesn’t give me a reaction. Instead, he looks away and peers at the yard. I’m left alone to make that decision. 

“I can’t.” My voice shakes when I glance back at Roman. “I can’t do that.” 

Tough girl is what I had to be

For four days I rotted in bed while wrapped in Roman’s jacket. Every time I see him there’s some sort of regression that happens. Yet, I’m not even sure I can call it regression. I want to forgive him, but my pride and the hurt make it impossible for me to ever let those words come out of my mouth. 

The house is empty while my parents are at church this morning. The silence isn’t comforting. It takes me back to countless mornings, evenings, and nights I spent wondering where he was and if he was with her. It reminds me of the nights when he lay in bed and I sat on the floor in agony. The silence reminds me of the pain anger and sorrow that I can’t seem to shake anymore. 

How can I ever go back to normal? The person I was a year ago was someone I can’t even remember now. Melody from a year ago was lively, she partied, hung out with her friends on a daily, and would jump at the thought of her husband coming home to see her. Now, she sits in a house an hour away from him. 

My world stopped spinning a long time ago and I’m just now feeling the effects. 

From my spot on the couch, I can see out the window and to the yard. The rain sprinkles softly and casts a beautiful glow on everything due to the sun that was also out – you can’t help but love Florida weather, it’s as bipolar as my emotions about Roman are right now. 

A figure passes by the window and a knock rings through the house. There’s a part of me that so desperately wants to ignore it and sink further into the couch and my despair, but a voice forces me to go against that. 

“Sis, come open the door, I know you in there.” 

When I finally, through much internal monolouge, open the door, Jey gives me his award-winning smile. He doesn’t wait for me to say anything before he pulls me into his arms. A groan slips pass my lips at the sheer force behind the hug. 

“You’re gonna crush me, Jey,  lemme breathe.” I choke out. 

He let’s go of me reluctantly, but keeps his hands on my shoulders, “I just wanted to check on you, baby, Trin’s worried about you.” 

“I’m fine, brother, just trying to…” My voice trails off. 

I’m not sure what the hell I’m trying to do anymore. I thought I’d figure everything out by now, it’s been six months, but I’m more confused now than I was on day one. 

“What the fuck?” After plopping back down on the couch, I look up at Jey, “I don’t know what the hell I’m trying to do.” 

Jey sits beside me and takes my hand into his, “You know we all here for you, Mel, and we always gone be on your side.” He rubs his fingers over the palm of my hand. “Tell me what you need and I’ll help you.” 

My mind goes blank. I’m not sure what can be done at this point to make anything easier for me. But, I know Jey won’t leave this house until he gets an answer, that’s just the type of person he is. For as long as we’ve known each other, Jey is very confrontatioanal and he can’t help it. I lean against his shoulder and stare at the wall. 

“You believe me, right, Mellie, Imma always be here for you?” Jey leans down to find me eyes. “Cause I don’t think you believin’ me.”

“I believe you, swear.”  I whisper into his shoulder. “I’m just so lost and I feel like my life is falling apart.”

For a moment, he lets us sit silently. The way his focus stays on rubbing my hand makes me take a deep breath. 

“Did she tell you?” My voice fights against me. I’m not sure he heard what I ask, but when he clears his throught I shut my eyes. “I don’t want Roman to know.” 

“I won’t tell him, Mel, okay?” Jey wraps his arm around me and pulls me closer. “Let’s just sit here.”

He taught me to be strong 

How much longer can I stay here? 

How much longer can I be angry? 

How much longer can I pretend I’ll be okay? 

There needs to be a resolve and I can’t picture my life without Roman. I can live without him. I can survive without him, but I don’t want this to be the end of everything we’ve worked for all these years. Yet, maybe something just need to end.

“Melody, come here.” My mom beckons me from the kitchen. 

It was nearly time for dinner and she’s standing near the stove. I leaning against the sink with a roll of the eye. My irritation isn’t with her, she knows that, but I’m not sure how to get rid of this feeling. 

“This feeling you have, the one you don’t want to share with any of us, I understand it and I resonate with it.” She glances at me. “It took me so long to forgive your father and there was a point where I thought if I forgive him I’d lose a piece of myself, but whatever you decide won’t break you and it won’t make you any less of a woman.” 

My eyes focus on the ground. I’m not sure what she wants me to say but she continues. 

“What he did isn’t right and there’s no way to get rid of that hurt, baby, but if you love him and you want to make it work you both have to take that first step and talk through this.” She finally turns and looks at me. “If you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to, but you both still need to talk.” 

We need to talk. 

I stare at my mom for a moment then nod. 

We have to talk. 

… but I’m not ready.

“Your mother is a woman and women like her cannot be contained. Mother dearest, let me inherit the earth. Teach me how to make him beg. Let me make up for the years he made you wait. Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a god? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head?”

no words, hope you’ve enjoyed x

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 26

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n my cat is very sick this weekend so leave some comments to distract me, thankyou. have a lovely weekend, cuddle your pets

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Your phone drops from your hands onto the floor of the practice room, thunking softly against the hardwood. Your head follows, falling backwards in a controlled motion that ripples pain through the sore muscles of your abdomen, your legs, your back. The bright lights of the ceiling are little relief, even when you throw an arm over your tired eyes.

Your whole body aches, but that's nothing new. You've been at it for hours - and days, and months. You work hard and the crowd won't cheer, and you work harder and the company ask for more, and you put your every waking moment towards it and the fans don't see the difference, and the voices online are never happy, and the work just keeps coming, one performance after another, opportunity after opportunity to make a fool of yourself.

Your body hurts. It's inevitable. 

It's fine, even. It's been six years since you traded in youth for the promise of fame, after all; pain becomes a constant companion after a point, every dancer knows that. If your body doesn't hurt, then you're probably doing something wrong.

You have to get up. 

It's your own voice that gives the order, your mind that knows you have another performance to run through before you can be done, but your body doesn't move, the heat of it soaking into the lacquered floor. The will to dance has leeched out of your bones with it, and it feels guilty to admit that even to yourself, but there is nothing in you that wants to dance again. You kind of hate dancing right now - but this is your dream and there's one chance to get it right, and you cannot hate dance for even one moment.

You have to get up. You don't move.

The door opens, but you barely notice it, your breath settling and your eyes blocked from the light. You don't open them until the toe of a shoe nudges your side; then, you squint up at the blurry figure above you, waiting for your tired eyes to adjust again.

It's more the shape of his shoulders and the stout figure that give him away than the details of his face. "Binnie," you greet him with a sigh and rub at your face. "What's up?"

"Nothing," he answers. "Were you asleep?"

"No." You look up into his face again, but you're not sure he's convinced. "I'm just...resting."

A wry grin crosses his face, laughing out at you even as he offers you a hand up. "You looked more like you were dying," he tells you as he pulls you up into a sitting position.  "Or in a crisis."

"I am in a crisis," you quip. "I'm not very good at my job."

A finger flicks your forehead. You stare up at him accusingly, but he only shrugs. "People who say bad things about our noona get flicked," he informs you, and he doesn't sound the least bit remorseful. 

"You've got a lot of Stays to flick then," you grumble; and then add, "Slacker," to cover up the guilt that stabs at you so hard you nearly cringe at yourself. Ungrateful, he's going to say, or whiny. It's all you can think, so surely he would too. 

All he does is smile though. "After lunch," he promises. "Are you coming to eat with me?"

You stare at him, bemused. "I'm in the middle of dance practice."

Changbin frowns. "You said in the group chat that you were done."

"With that performance, yeah," you say, your hand drifting unconsciously towards your phone. "I still have the MAMA performance to try."

"It can wait until after lunch."

"Lunch can wait until after practice too."

"Not if it's that new place around the corner," he argues. "They close so early, this is my only chance."

You don't mean to, but you know your face tightens and your belly rumbles, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. "I have a diet, Changbin," you remind him gently. "There's at least four of the other kids at the company, they'll go with you."

"You've been suggested a diet," he amends without missing a beat. "Doesn't mean you have to do it."

"Do you come from another planet?" you scoff, squinting up at him. "Did we not sign the same contract?"

The smile he gives you is impish, spelling out trouble all over his face. "If you just ignore them long enough, they give up," he informs you proudly.

Your gaze runs over him again critically, tight shirt and loose pants cutting a figure you could never hope to mimic. "You're all muscle though," you point out, your finger jabbing accusingly in the direction of his chest, "even though you eat like a garbage can. Some of us are just fat."

"Garbage can?" he repeats incredulously, his voice rising with every syllable. He steps back, shaking his head, and you climb to your feet yourself, reaching back to fix your hair as you stand. "I eat like a normal person."

"Like three normal people, maybe."

"Come to lunch with me and I bet you'll eat more than me."

"You can come to lunch with me, in the cafeteria, sure."

He stares defiantly as he chooses his next words. You meet his gaze evenly. "I don't want to eat chicken and salad in the cafeteria," he whines after a moment. "Who even said that you were fat?"

"JYP himself," you deadpan, only cracking a smile at the anguished laugh that comes out of his mouth in response. "I don't know. A manager somewhere. Does it matter?"

You can see the teasing spirit drain from his face as his smile fades, his face turning to things that are softer, more serious. "As long as you know that you're pretty enough to make most of us look ugly, it doesn't matter."

You scoff again, your tongue tasting acerbic against the embarrassed red of your cheeks. "Pretty enough to be here," you reply. "Not the prettiest."

Changbin's arm is a heavy weight across your shoulders, squeezing you tightly as he all but drags you towards the door. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen," he says; and somehow, it is so friendly a comment that it doesn't heat your face again, nor come off as awkward; but that is Changbin's effortless charm, his friendliness. His ability to listen without judging.

Anyway, your lips curve up into a smile, your elbow digging into his side just long enough to make him let go of you so that you can open the door. "It's all plastic, buddy," you quip as he steps through, and pull it closed behind you. "I'm a modern scientific miracle."

For several seconds, he just looks at you, unsure whether to laugh or not. "Have you done anything?" he asks, just to ask, ambling along casually beside you. "You have such a nice face shape."

You contemplate your answer before you give it, your mouth opening and then closing again. "Maybe a little here and there," you say and let a little grin slip onto your face. "Maybe not. You know I was dropped from Midnight for being 'the wrong look', right?"

"I didn't know that," he says, cutting a glance at you. You wonder if, under the genuine astonishment that plays out over his face, he can see the way that acknowledgement still guts you like a knife. You'd managed to say it out loud without cringing away from it, at least; maybe the hurt is starting to dull. Maybe one of these days you'll be able to look forward at what you've got without also looking back at what they'd taken away from you.

"Well don't go changing now," Changbin says, pushing straight past the whole dilemma. "They think you're the right look for us; don't ruin it."

"I only aspire to look like you, Changbin-ssi," you assure him. 

He laughs at you; actually, properly laughs, his voice echoing down the hallway. "You can start by actually going to the gym," he tells you. "And going to eat ramen at the new place down the street. You can't claim to be Changbin when you're so small."

"Bit rich, coming from the smallest person in the group," you mutter under your breath, and you can't help but snort a laugh at the affronted shout that sounds from beside you as he tows you towards the elevators.

---

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

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@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[guacamolleee]

Hey! Your prompts are lovely For thedasevent maybe Emmrook?

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now,”

Thanks for the prompt!! For @thedasweekend

Set post-Veilguard. 627 words

“Ready, darling?” Emmrich pushed open the bedroom door with his hip, fingers on his cuff, smoothing it down.

“Ugh.” Rook sat by the vanity, attempting to pin her hair into some semblance of order, tucking errant strands into one hand, the other holding a golden clip trying to bunch it together — and failing. Her hair fell back down in waves. “Give me another minute.”

He glanced at his pocket watch — fifteen minutes if they were to get to the party on time, another soiree in Rook's honor, plucky castoff turned darling hero, the nobility suddenly so eager to shake hands with the godkiller that saved the world. Much was to be said about the Mourn Watch's abilities to rub elbows with the nobility, leveraging both her and Emmrich's status to their advantage. Though, he supposed he couldn't complain too loudly — research grants weren't funded themselves after all.

But that was neither here nor there, and he stepped toward Rook, flicking her hair behind her as she turned to face him.

“Do we have to go?” she complained.

“Alas, we must, my love.”

She pouted and batted her eyes at him. “No way I could… convince you, perhaps?”

He laughed, running a hand through her hair, Rook leaning into him as he scratched her scalp. “I am not the one you must convince.”

She grumbled, burying her nose into his stomach, almost certainly crumpling his dress shirt, lipstick rubbing into the fabric. He only smiled.

“Turn around.”

“Hm?”

She looked up at him, and he made a circling motion. “Turn around,” he repeated.

She complied, facing the mirror, their eyes meeting.

He plucked the clip from her hand, a pretty thing, made of gold and shaped like a single bloom of shroud’s kiss, the drops of black diamonds in the center shining in the lamplight. A gift from him to her. His heart warmed.

Emmrich gathered half her hair, combing through it with his fingers, twisting the sides, then clipping it together. He pulled a few strands free to frame her face.

She looked so lovely — the furrow between her brows as she watched him intently, the blush sweeping across her cheeks. It was all too easy to become distracted by the way her dress draped down her shoulders, flowing into billowing sleeves, framing long fingers covered in rings. Her back was open, a familiar constellation of freckles dotting it and begging to be connected.

Emmrich leaned and ran a hand down Rook’s exposed back, fingers dipping into the curve of her hip, slipping just beneath the fabric of her dress.

“Emmrich…” Her breath hitched, legs crossing.

“You are so beautiful, darling.” His voice was low, a spark of heat just beneath. She shivered beneath him. “You will be the talk of the night.”

Rook snorted, an inelegant sound yet so charming. “I'm sure we will be if we don’t hurry up.”

He pulled away and looked at his pocket watch again.

Ten minutes.

“In a hurry, my dear?” He pressed his hand between her shoulder blades and Rook gave a low moan.

There was a lot they could do in ten minutes.

He knelt beside her, cupping her cheeks and turning her head toward him, noses brushing. He could smell her perfume, vanilla and lilacs up his nose, desire curling in his belly.

They were at risk of turning unfashionably late — but that was a risk Emmrich was willing to take.

Let them wait, he thought, there were more important matters to attend to — like soft lips, and the taste of Rook's lipstick, or the throaty moan she gave him when his tongue licked at the seam of her mouth.

And if they took another hour to become presentable again, well, Myrna would certainly forgive them… eventually.

[gearsandhammers]

STONES, LIKE DIAMONDS : VIKTOR X M!READER

synopsis : you're a biology/zoology student at the academy, and you've been placed in the same lab as jayce and viktor. you grow close with the both of them over time, but you have a soft spot for viktor...

warnings / tw : meljayce mentioned , idk how animals work in runeterra so all animals exist there now, grammarly is my beta

pairing : viktor x male reader | m/m

author's notes : hiya! sorry this one took me so long, school hit like a truck this week. anyways, i really liked this concept! like a lot, would you guys want this as like a series or miniseries? if this gets at least 40 ish notes maybe i'll make a second part! anyways, have a great day/night and read!

Heimerdinger had taken you in as one of the very few zoology students at the academy, intrigued by your studies. Despite how large the academy is, they run out of space at some point. So, he placed you in the lab of two of the most brilliant men in Piltover, Jayce and Viktor. You were sort of confused by that since your two lines of research didn't really connect anywhere, but you didn't dare argue with Heimerdinger.

So here you stand in front of the grand lab doors, a box of your lab supplies in your arms and a bag with your textbooks slung over your shoulder. You take a deep breath and push your way through the doors to the lab. The two men in the lab turn towards the door, one sitting at the desk and the other standing at the chalkboard, both of them looking equally exhausted.

You recognize one of them, Jayce, from the posters all around Piltover. From that, you assume the other seated at the desk is Viktor.

"Ah, you must be the student Professor Heimerdinger said would be joining us. Please, come in." Viktor says, motioning for you to come in. You place the box down on the far end of the desk, and walk over to them, shaking their hands and introducing yourself. Your voice quivers, and your hand almost shakes, but you force yourself to gain some semblance of composure. These are going to be your lab... partners, after all.

· ─ ─ ─ < ⟨ ⚙︎ ⟩ > ─ ─ ─ ·

Months pass like minutes, and you get closer to them over time. You spend days and nights in the lab, discussing school, labs, personal things, and everything in between. You spend late nights with them, laughing at how delirious you all are at 3am, trying to finish your work.

"Gods, we should go to sleep," you comment, trying to pick up all of the papers that fell onto the floor in your dazed laughter. Jayce rubs the back of his neck, nodding.

"Yeah, I'm probably gonna head back to mine. Mel's probably waiting for me." he picks up his bag, stuffing his notebooks into it before slinging it over his shoulder. "You two get home safe, yeah?" he smiles at you and Viktor.

"Yeah, you too. Say hi to Mel for us." You say before he nods, shutting the door behind him, washing you and Viktor into a half-awkward silence. "So, you gonna head home?"

"Eh, yes. Maybe, I don't know if I have anything else I need to get done tonight..." he trails off, sifting through piles of paper, looking for any unfinished notes.

"Do you think I could walk you home...?" You fiddle with your thumbs, looking down at your bag as you organize the papers in it. "I mean, I don't have to, it's just─"

"I'd like that." he interrupts you, putting his notebook into his bag. "I don't have anything else to do, are you ready to go?"

"Oh! Um, yeah, I got all my stuff." You scramble to your feet, pushing your seat in and turning off the desk lamps and your microscope. "Here, let's go." You open the door for him, stepping aside for him to step through, and he thanks you. You close the door behind the two of you, your keys clinking together with your orca keychain as you lock the lab door.

You and him walk back to his apartment, chatting about everything and nothing. He makes a few flirty comments, you brush them off and rule it down to flattery. At some point, you realize you've been staring at him as you walk when you almost walk into a lamppost. He laughs and you rub your arm, embarrassed. You finally make it to his door, and something in your stomach twists as you think about having to walk home alone, without the familiar comfort of his voice. As he unlocks his door, he turns around to you and you jump a bit, snapped out of your thoughts.

"Thank you for walking me home, sir," he teases. You smile at him, before remembering something.

"Oh right, I have something for you! Well, a few things." You dig through your bag, pulling out a small pouch and you open it, pulling out a few smooth, shiny stones. One was golden orange, almost like tiger eye. I saw this one and it reminded me of your eyes." You sift through them, and he looks at you with an expression that's a mix of astonishment and pure infatuation, but you don't notice. You find a few small black ones, and take them, along with the amber one, and put them in his hand. "Those little black ones reminded me of your moles, they were like little constellations in the sand," you explain, smiling, proud of yourself, and just happy to talk about your work.

You finally look up at him, having put the rest of the rocks back in the pouch and into your bag. You make eye contact with him, and you're a bit taken aback by his soft, loving sort of smile. "You're giving me rocks...?"

"Well, basically. Did you know that young gentoo penguins give other penguins stones or pebbles to put in a nest when they find a potential mate in an attempt to impress their desired mate, a lot like humans gifting diamonds or jewelry to a significant other?" you ramble, obviously passionate about your research.

"So, are you saying that I'm a 'potential mate'?" he smirks, turning to put the rocks down on his coffee table, waving for you to come in. You look down at your hands, a little stunned and you take a deep breath before stepping into his house, your hands clutching the strap of your bag.

"I mean, you could think about it like that, but I just saw them and thought of you─ oh, hi, you're very close," you notice he's come closer to you, and you have to lean back to try to give yourself more distance, knowing you'd just melt if he got too close.

"Come, take your coat off. I have some of my own... gifts, to give to you."

[hiramaris]

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

SPECIAL CHAPTER

Chapter Summary:

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

Pairings: Haley x Fem!farmer

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

Warning: None. Just a useless lesbian.

Notes:

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

Spring 1

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

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

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

The quiet is unsettling.

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

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

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

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

You don’t remember, but you nodded anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're not sure what to say to that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not sure if she’s joking.

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

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

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

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

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

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

Or so you thought.

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

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

Your breath catches.

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

What the hell?

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

You snap the map up in front of your face.

Like an idiot.

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

You exhale sharply, willing your heart to settle.

What was that?

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

You have a plan.

Check the farm. Leave.

Simple.

You make it about three steps before stopping again.

Your gaze drifted back toward her.

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

Cute.

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

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

But it doesn’t matter.

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

The plan?

Crumpled. Burnt. Gone.

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

****

Spring 2

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

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

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

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

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

A small smile pulled at your lips.

Then—click.

The sound was sharp, foreign. Unmistakable.

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

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

A girl.

Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, camera raised.

Recognition hit you a second later.

The girl with the camera.

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

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

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

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

You blinked at her. She blinked back.

Neither of you moved.

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

Then, finally—

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

And prettier.

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

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

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

You tilted your head slightly, studying her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you smiled.

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

And just like that, something shifted in her expression.

It was so fast, you almost missed it.

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

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

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

The words hit you like she slapped you. Hard.

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

The silence that followed was suffocating.

"Excuse me?"

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

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

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

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

Or maybe she had.

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

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

You held it out to her.

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

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

Something in her shifted again.

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

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

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

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

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

She frowned slightly. "What?"

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

You saw the realization settle in her eyes.

Understanding. Then, maybe, guilt.

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

"I—"

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

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

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

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

But pretty, nonetheless.

****

Spring 7

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

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

Too much work still needed to be done back home.

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

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

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

And that’s when you spotted her.

Haley.

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

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

She had seen you.

And then—she ignored you.

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

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

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

Not that you’d been avoiding her.

No, you were just busy.

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

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

You almost laughed.

Seriously?

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

Fine.

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

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

Except then—

Her foot slipped.

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

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

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

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

For a second, neither of you moved.

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The way she reacted was immediate. "No!"

You smirked. Right.

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

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

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

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

"You should be careful next time, though." 

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

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

"Great," she grumbled. "It’s gone."

You followed her gaze. "What is?"

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

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

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

"You want me to eat these?"

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

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

Haley froze.

She didn’t pull away.

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

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

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

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

She was entranced.

You found yourself watching her instead.

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

It was real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am not."

"Am too."

"Am not."

"Am too."

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

When had that happened?

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

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

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

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

Or you had been quick to judge her.

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

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

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

But this Haley?

This was different.

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

And damn it, you found yourself staring.

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

Your brows furrowed slightly. Was she…?

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

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

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

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

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

Your body froze.

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

You should step back.

You should.

But you didn’t.

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

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

She froze.

For a split second, you almost regretted it.

Almost.

"As a thank you," you said quietly.

It sounded stupid the moment it left your lips.

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

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

Neither of you made any damn sense.

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

A photograph.

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

It was you.

From the other day.

You stared.

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

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

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

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

Consent.

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

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

"Thank you," you murmured.

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

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

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

There was writing on the back.

You barely had time to tilt it before she panicked.

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

It was still morning.

You weren’t going to correct her.

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

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

You blinked.

Did she just…?

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

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

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

But then again…

You had been looking for her, too.

And you liked looking at her.

****

Spring 8

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

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

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

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

So, you didn’t go.

Not today, anyway.

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

And there, sitting on the swings, was Haley.

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

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

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

"Uh, Haley?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

"Uhm, how do I say this…"

You blinked at her sudden change in tone.

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

You blinked.

What?

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

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

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

Haley visibly froze.

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

Her cheeks were turning pink.

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

"You were saying…?"

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

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

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

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

Her fingers twitched slightly but hesitated before taking them.

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

"Then what else were you expecting?"

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

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

From somewhere behind you, there was a distinct sound.

Something like—

A snort?

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

Demetrius.

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

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

But she wasn’t throwing them back at you.

She wasn’t storming off, either.

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

Weird.

How can someone be prettier next to a pretty flower?

****

Spring 9

You finally decided to accept Haley’s invitation.

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

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

Or at all, really.

But she had.

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

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

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

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

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

So, you waited.

And waited.

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

You left soon after.

The next morning, you tried again.

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

“She’s… busy.”

Which was just code for hiding.

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

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

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

And that was that.

You didn’t try again after that.

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

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

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

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

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

She was avoiding you.

That much was obvious.

What wasn’t obvious was why.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow. "Do I?"

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

You blinked.

You hadn't expected her to notice.

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

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

She didn’t push. She never did.

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

And that was that.

You didn’t bring up Haley.

And Penny didn’t ask.

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

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

Maybe even better than you did.

****

Haley was still avoiding you.

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

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

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

And then, suddenly, she was gone.

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

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

And now?

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

"You’re doing it again."

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

"Doing what?"

"Spacing out," she said simply.

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

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

You gave her a look.

She returned it, unbothered.

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

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

Penny tilted her head slightly. "Oh?"

You weren’t sure why you asked.

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow, waiting.

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

Your breath caught—just for a second.

Penny noticed.

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

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

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

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

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

The same ones you had given Haley.

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

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

Either they don’t like you…

Or they like you too much.

You weren’t sure which one was worse.

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

****

Spring 12

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

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

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

Maybe today would be different.

So, you knocked.

“Hello?”

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

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yes.”

You blinked at Haley’s blunt answer.

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

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

“Haley…”

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

You blinked.

Oh.

This was a thing.

Emily looked exasperated, while Haley looked… weirdly eager?

Did she actually want your opinion on this?

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

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

Haley’s face immediately dropped.

Oh.

Not the answer she wanted, then.

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

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

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

She froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright, you win.”

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

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

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

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

“Your hands are rough and warm.”

You blinked.

“…Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

You only laughed, moving to lift the couch.

****

Spring 13

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

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

But here? Here, birthdays mattered.

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

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

For a second, you just stared at it.

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

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

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

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

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

"That’s… the only choice?"

"Obviously. Pick one."

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

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

It had been ridiculous.

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

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

Spring 14 - Early Morning

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

Coconuts weren’t local here, after all.

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

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

Right. The bus was still out of service.

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

But for now?

You needed another plan.

The traveling merchant.

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

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

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

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

No time for pleasantries.

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

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

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

Of course, they weren’t.

Didn’t matter.

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

More than enough.

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

"Didn’t even ask the price, huh?"

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

"Didn’t need to."

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

It looked ridiculous.

But handing it to her unwrapped felt even weirder.

And now?

All that was left was to find her.

Late Morning

You checked the beach first.

Then the town square.

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

Nothing.

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

Huh, this scene feels familiar.

For some reason, the sight made you pause.

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

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

For a moment, you considered turning around.

But instead, you stepped forward.

"Thought I’d find you here."

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

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

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

Your stomach did a weird little flip.

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

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Give me your hands."

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

That sounded way too serious. Way too something.

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

"Just trust me, Hay."

Oh, Yoba. No. Abort. Abort.

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

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

…Or she’d just listen.

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

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

She blinked.

Stared down at it.

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

"I… I love coconuts."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something flickered in her eyes.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

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

And in that stillness, you realized something—

You weren’t just acquaintances anymore.

You weren’t quite friends, either.

But whatever this was?

It was something.

****

It had started as a casual thing.

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

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

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

The mornings here were different.

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

It was domestic. Easy. Nice.

And you liked it.

So, you kept coming back.

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

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

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

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

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

Emily only winked.

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

Something suspiciously close to "You’re late."

****

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

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

And Haley?

Haley had patterns too.

At first, you thought it was coincidence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But sometimes, your paths just… lined up.

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

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

She started stopping.

Not always. Not every time.

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

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

And if she really wasn’t in the mood?

Well.

She still didn’t walk away.

****

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

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

“You’re late.”

You blinked.

"...It’s 8:07."

"Exactly."

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

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

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

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

Haley made a noise suspiciously close to a choke.

You didn’t comment on it.

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

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

This was a routine now.

And neither of you seemed to mind.

****

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

You didn't even hesitate before knocking, pushing the door open with a familiar ease, half-expecting Emily’s usual cheery greeting.

But instead of Emily, the first thing you heard was Haley grunting.

A frustrated, muffled noise, followed by a sharp “Come on, just open already!”

You stopped mid-step, blinking.

You weren’t entirely sure what you had walked into, but based on the sheer determination in her voice, it was either a battle for her life… or a particularly stubborn jar.

Considering this was Haley, the latter seemed more likely.

Peering into the kitchen, your suspicions were confirmed.

Haley stood at the counter, face scrunched up in frustration, gripping a jar like it had personally wronged her. She twisted the lid with all the strength she could muster, letting out another huff when it refused to budge.

You bit back a laugh, watching for a moment as she scowled at the object like sheer hatred alone might force it to open.

Yeah, this was too good to pass up.

"You need some help?" you finally spoke up, amusement thick in your voice.

Haley jumped.

She turned quickly, blue eyes wide with surprise before she covered it up with an exaggerated scowl.

"Ugh. How does it feel seeing me in pain?"

You grinned. There it is.

"Aw, does the baby need help?" you teased, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter.

That was a mistake.

The look she shot you could have incinerated you on the spot.

"Hmp," she scoffed, holding the jar closer to her chest like a challenge. "I was about to cook breakfast for us, but now I don't feel like doing it."

You held up your hands in mock surrender, biting back another chuckle. "Alright, alright, miss sassy pants. Come here."

Before she could protest, you reached over, tugging lightly at the loop of her belt to pull her closer.

You hadn't really thought about it—just something casual, something natural—but the way she froze made your brain catch up real fast.

Oh.

Oh.

Had that been too bold?

But before you could dwell on it, you grabbed the jar from her hands, twisted the lid with ease, and plopped it back into her grasp like it was nothing.

"Piece of cake," you said smugly, flashing her a grin.

For a second, she just stared.

Then—

"Hmp. You're stronger than you look," she muttered, crossing her arms with a faux pout.

You quirked an eyebrow. Stronger than you look?

"Excuse me?" you repeated, placing a hand on your hip. "What do you mean stronger than I look?"

Haley gave you a once-over, not particularly impressed. "I mean, you’re kinda…" She gestured vaguely at you. "Scrawny-looking under all those baggy farm clothes."

You gasped. Scrawny?!

Alright. Fine. Now it was personal.

Rolling up your sleeves, you flexed dramatically, putting on your best Alex-worthy showmanship. "I’ll have you know, Miss Carter, farm work is no joke."

Haley blinked.

Her mouth parted slightly—just for a second—before she quickly turned away, crossing her arms tighter. "Y-yeah, yeah, show-off."

Huh.

Weird reaction.

She had seen Alex flex a thousand times and usually mock-gagged at the sight.

But right now?

You had a very strong suspicion she had definitely just checked you out.

Oh.

Oh.

Your stomach did something.

You quickly shoved that something into a box and locked it away, because nope, not unpacking that today.

And then—

"I wonder how many other ladies have been lucky enough to see that impressive display."

You nearly choked on air.

WHAT.

You blinked at her, half-expecting her to burst out laughing or tell you she was joking, but—

No.

She was smirking.

Smirking, while still not looking directly at you, her fingers toying with the hem of her shirt like she hadn’t just said that out loud.

Your brain short-circuited.

It took a full three seconds before you recovered enough to bark out a laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. "Uh, how many are you?"

It was Haley’s turn to choke on her own spit.

Her face turned pink.

You grinned.

"I’m gonna hit you," she sputtered, clutching the jar like it was a weapon.

You laughed, backing up with your hands raised. "Okay, okay! I’ll help you cook, alright?"

"Fine," she muttered, recovering quickly. "But you’re going to boil the pasta. You suck at making the sauce."

"Yeah, yeah, M'lady. Let’s do it your way."

****

You weren’t entirely sure how the two of you worked so well in the kitchen, but somehow it just… clicked.

Maybe it was because Haley actually knew how to cook.

Like—really knew how to cook.

You had expected her to just throw ingredients into a pan and hope for the best (or, at worst, order you to do all the hard work), but nope.

She worked with practiced ease, moving around the kitchen like she had done this a thousand times before.

Which—maybe she had.

It wasn’t something she boasted about.

Which made it all the more surprising when you found yourself… actually impressed.

"Okay, stir gently," she instructed as you stood next to her at the stove. "You don’t want the sauce to break."

You did as told, though not without a little dramatic flair. "Like this, boss?"

"Less stupid, more stirring."

"Wow. So bossy."

"Yeah, well, someone has to keep you in check."

You grinned but didn’t argue.

Because standing here, in the warmth of 2 Willow Lane, listening to Haley boss you around while the scent of fresh pasta filled the air—

You realized something.

You didn’t mind at all.

****

Spring 20

In hindsight, challenging Shane to a drinking contest was a mistake.

You weren’t a lightweight by any means, but you also weren’t a regular at the Stardrop Saloon, knocking back beers like they were water. Unlike Shane, who, for all his problems, had a tolerance that could rival Pam’s.

Still, it had been his birthday, and after spending weeks drowning in farm work with barely enough time to breathe, a part of you thought—why not?

Bad. Idea.

The first couple of drinks had been fine. You laughed, listened to Gus grumble about Shane’s tab, even managed to hold a decent conversation with Sam before he had to carry Vincent home.

But by drink number five, the world tilted just a little.

By drink number seven, you were buzzed.

By drink number nine, Shane was on the floor, Pam was laughing at you, and Emily was calling for backup.

And now?

Now you were leaning against the bar, eyes half-lidded, vaguely aware that someone was helping Shane, but—

Oh.

Oh, she’s here.

Even through your drunken haze, you’d recognize that perfume anywhere—clean, soft, expensive.

A sleepy grin pulled at your lips.

"Hay…? Is that you…?"

She sighed, her voice half-exasperated, half-soft. "Yeah, it’s me."

Her arm looped around your waist, pulling you upright as she guided you toward the door.

Warm.

She was warm.

And soft.

And so close.

Haley smelled really good, which wasn’t surprising, but it was distracting because your brain was already a mess and now there were too many thoughts happening at once.

"You smell geurd…" you mumbled.

Haley stiffened against you, and if you were sober, you might’ve enjoyed the way her breath hitched.

"I know," she retorted, voice tight. "And you smell like beer."

Which—fair.

But you could still smell the lemon and mint under all of it, the scent of fresh air and something sweet that made your stomach flip.

She smelled better than anyone had the right to.

You let her drag you outside, vaguely aware of voices around you—Pam yelling something about kids these days, Leah offering help (which Haley firmly declined, for some reason?), and Penny’s gentle concern.

Didn’t matter.

None of them were Haley.

You barely noticed when the town’s quiet streets replaced the saloon’s warm glow, the crisp spring air biting at your flushed skin. The cobblestone path blurred under your feet, and if it weren’t for Haley, you’d probably be face-first in a bush.

"Where… we going?" you slurred, stumbling slightly.

"Home," she grunted, adjusting her hold on you. You chuckled, amused by how done she sounded. "Yoba, just how many beers did you drink? Surely, you're not that much of a lightweight."

You held up three fingers. "I had nine." You thought for a second, then added, "Shane, I think… had seven."

Haley snorted. "I’m pretty sure I’m not dumb enough to count three on your fingers."

"It’s three times three," you explained sagely.

"Yeah, sure."

"Yeah! And I'm completely sober."

You took two confident steps forward—

And immediately tripped.

Haley caught you, her arm tightening around your waist before you could faceplant into Marnie’s fence.

"Oops—" You grinned, looking up at her through hazy eyes. "Thanks, babe."

Haley froze.

Like. Froze.

Her whole body went stiff, and for a second, you thought she might actually drop you.

Her grip on you tightened instead.

You felt her heartbeat pick up, her breath hitch slightly as she stared at you, her face suddenly red.

Weird.

You liked that.

"Wow, you sure are flirty tonight," she muttered, clearing her throat. "You sure you're sober?"

You hummed, contemplating. Were you?

You stopped walking. Haley turned, confused, as you stood still under the streetlights, the dim glow casting shadows across her face.

You wanted to remember this.

Because it felt… important.

Because Haley Carter was looking at you.

Because Haley Carter was holding you.

And because, drunk or not, you had just said something honest.

"The only time I allow myself to be this close to you," you murmured, your words slurring less now, "without my heart pounding in my chest, is in the reality I’ve created in my dreams."

You lifted your head, searching her expression.

Her lips parted slightly, eyes locked onto yours, uncertainty flickering across her face.

The air between you felt… different. Thicker.

"So, tell me, Haley…" you breathed, voice quieter now.

Your head tilted, gaze tracing over the softness of her features, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her fingers tightened slightly around your wrist.

"Am I sober, or is this just a dream?"

And Yoba—

You really, really hoped she had the answer.

****

Spring 24

You had never run away from anything in your life.

Not when Joja tried to groom you into something you weren’t.

Not when the weight of a legacy you wanted no part in nearly crushed you.

Not when you packed up your bags, left everything behind, and started fresh in a quiet little town where no one knew your name, your past, or how much money you technically had sitting untouched in a city bank.

But Haley Carter?

You ran from her.

For four days.

And Yoba help you, but you had no idea what you were even running from.

Maybe it was the way she had looked at you that night—half-lidded blue eyes too sharp, too soft, too knowing. Maybe it was the warmth of her fingers ghosting over your wrist, your shoulder, your neck. Maybe it was the fact that you had called her babe, and for once in her life, she hadn’t snapped at you for it.

No.

It was worse than that.

It was the way she hadn’t corrected you at all.

You woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, wearing nothing but shame and your bedsheets, and found Haley in your kitchen, wearing your damn shirt, making breakfast like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It had nearly killed you.

And then she had turned around, grinning like she knew exactly what she was doing to you, and teased you about your weak alcohol tolerance like it was all so simple.

So, yeah. You ran.

Straight into the mines, where monsters were easier to fight than whatever the hell was happening to your heart.

Away from breakfast invitations, away from Emily’s knowing glances, away from your own stupid, reckless, painfully obvious feelings.

It wasn’t like you expected her to chase after you. But you also didn’t expect her to notice your absence this much.

You had meant to skip the Flower Dance.

Even if dancing was something you could probably master in five minutes if you really tried.

Even if the festival would have been another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things you were unexpectedly good at.

That list was getting long. Too long.

At first, farming had been just another thing to conquer.

You had picked up a shovel for the first time, read a few books on agriculture, and within weeks, your farm was thriving like a well-oiled machine.

Your crops flourished, your animals followed you like a shepherd, and the once-abandoned land now looked alive in a way that felt almost... personal.

And somewhere along the way, it stopped being about proving you could do it.

Somewhere along the way, you started waking up excited to see what had grown overnight.

Somewhere along the way, you fell in love with it.

Not because it was something you were good at, but because it was something that felt like yours.

And Haley Carter? She was the first thing in your life that didn’t come easy.

And maybe that’s why you had been avoiding her.

Because you didn’t know what to do about something you couldn’t master in a day.

And then, of course, Alex has other plans.

Before you knew it, he grabbed you by the collar before the Flower Dance and forced you back into her orbit.

****

"Old Mac here can replace me. I already taught her the moves."

You nearly choked on your own breath. "What?"

Alex grinned like he was enjoying this way too much. "You got this. There's no need to worry."

"I don't—"

"You got this." He cut you off. You barely had enough time to wrap your head around what was happening before Alex was shrugging off his jacket and shoving it into your hands.

Haley’s eyes were already on you.

You could feel them. Watching. Waiting.

And you?

You were panicking. Internally, of course.

Externally? Blank face. Neutral expression. Playing it cool.

But inside? Complete. Freaking. Chaos.

Penny, bless her, tried to intervene. "Wouldn't it be better if Sam takes your place since he's already familiar with the dance?"

"Um, no," Alex dismissed the idea immediately, grinning wider when he saw the panic in your eyes. "Haley feels more comfortable dancing with Old Mac. That's more important."

Your entire soul left your body.

Your mouth was dry. Your brain was short-circuiting. You wanted to look at Haley but—NOPE.

Because if you looked at her, you might see hope. Or worse—disappointment.

And Yoba help you, you didn’t know which was scarier.

Then she said it.

"Wait a second—can’t we get a say in this?!"

And your stomach sank.

Oh. Oh.

So she didn’t want to.

You should have expected that. You should have prepared for that.

You should have let yourself believe that was coming. But for some reason, it still stung.

For a split second, your fingers curled around the jacket in your hands, grip tightening, something raw twisting in your gut. You weren’t sure what you had been hoping for, but it sure as hell wasn’t this.

The rush of disappointment came so suddenly that it nearly threw you off balance.

Of course, she didn’t want to. Why would she?

You had never felt less qualified for anything in your entire life.

The moment was so quick—so fleeting—that you barely had time to process it before Alex shut her down with a cheery, "Nope!"

"Very well, then." Mayor Lewis clapped his hands together. "Let the festival begin!"

****

Haley was warm.

That was your first thought when you wrapped your hands around her waist.

Your second thought was, I should not be thinking about this.

But it was too late. Her perfume—light vanilla and something faintly floral—wrapped around your senses, and the heat of her skin, even through layers of silk, burned. For a second, you forgot how to move.

"You don't have to do this if you don't want to."

Her voice was quieter now, breathless.

You swallowed hard and forced yourself to meet her eyes.

Haley, in white silk and soft curls, looking up at you with something you couldn’t quite name. Your heart stumbled over itself.

Her hands—small, delicate, trembling ever so slightly—rested on your shoulders.

You should say something. Anything.

But all that came out was, "Huh?"

Not your best moment.

Haley had just said something, something important—and all you could do was stand there like an idiot while your mind scrambled to catch up.

Her voice was quieter now, breathless, uncertain in a way you rarely heard.

"You were avoiding me."

Your grip on her waist tightened.

She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of her hands on your shoulders burning through the fabric of your suit.

Your first instinct was to deflect. To say something easy. Lighthearted. Something that wouldn’t make your chest feel like it was caving in under her stare.

But the way she looked at you, with something too sharp, too knowing, too close to understanding what you weren’t saying, made it impossible to lie.

You scrambled for an excuse, anything to steer away from the truth.

"You don’t want to dance with me."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, sharp and certain, like she had already decided the answer for you.

Something inside you twisted. You felt it—the briefest flicker of disappointment, sharp and bitter, before you could shove it down. It was stupid. Irrational.

But for a single, awful moment, you thought maybe she had been hoping you’d refuse. Your stomach twisted.

"I wasn’t…"

Her blue eyes narrowed. "Could’ve fooled me."

You barely had time to process the sting behind her words before the music started.

Instinct took over. Without thinking, you twirled her.

Haley gasped softly, caught off guard, her hands instinctively tightening against your shoulders to keep herself steady.

And just like that—you were dancing.

The steps came easily. Too easily.

It should have been hard to match the rhythm. It should have taken weeks of practice to master the precise footwork. Alex had only shown it to you once. Like everything else in your life—it only took once.

And Haley? She moved effortlessly, like she was made for this. Like she was made to fit against you like this.

She returned to your arms just as swiftly as she left them, her fingers curling tighter around the fabric of your coat.

"You wanted to dance with Penny, didn’t you?"

You faltered—barely, but enough for her to notice.

"I don't." 

The words left your mouth too fast. Too immediate.

Haley’s lips parted slightly, startled by your complete lack of hesitation.

"You don’t?"

You hesitated now. Not because it wasn’t true—because it was.

Because saying it out loud, with her, right there, in your arms, looking at you like she was trying to solve a puzzle—felt like admitting to something much bigger.

Something you weren’t ready to name. And yet—

"I don’t want to dance with anyone but you."

There. There it was.

Your dumb, reckless mouth running away from you again.

The words had left before you could stop them, slipping through your defenses like water through cracked stone. And now—now there was no taking them back.

Haley stilled in your arms. Her grip on your shoulders had eased, but her eyes never left yours—sharp, searching, waiting. A slow inhale.

"Then why?" she pressed, voice steady but insistent. "Where were you? I haven’t seen you in days. You haven’t visited us for breakfast."

You swallowed thickly. Damn it.

Of course, she noticed. Of course, she counted.

Four days.Four days of avoiding her. Four days of working yourself into exhaustion, of diving headfirst into the mines with reckless abandon, hoping—stupidly, naively—that maybe if you buried yourself deep enough, you could outrun whatever this was. Whatever she was doing to you.

But the thing about Haley Carter?

She never let anything slide.

"Tell me."

There was something in her voice that left no room for avoidance. No escape.

And when your eyes met hers again, the music, the crowd, the festival—all of it ceased to exist.

It was just her. Just you.

And the four days of silence stretched between you, fragile as glass.

You inhaled, forcing the words out. "I was out mining."

A flicker of something—doubt? frustration?—crossed her face.

"And?"

You hesitated. Your fingers tensed against her waist.

She was close. So close.

You could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her dress, the faintest scent of coconut and vanilla clinging to her hair.

And Yoba help you, you were so weak for it.

"And maybe I was kind of avoiding you…"

Her glare was instant.

Your stomach plummeted. Oh, shit.

Panic sets in.

You scrambled to backpedal, hands tightening around her waist like that would somehow ground you.

"I was embarrassed that I puked on you!"

A beat of silence. A single blink. And then—

"You what?"

You winced. Oh, fantastic. Perfect.

You had somehow, miraculously, spectacularly, made this even worse.

Desperate to recover, you hurriedly added, "Alex told me it was your self-care day and… I know I ruined it for you. And now I ruined your dance."

The irritation in her eyes softened.

Shifted into something else. Something gentler. Something far more dangerous.

"Idiot."

It should have been biting. It should have been mocking.

But instead, it came out like a sigh of relief.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world—

Her arms relaxed completely, hands slipping from your shoulders to wrap around your neck. Your breath hitched.

She let you hold her. No hesitation. No resistance. Just… trust.

The warmth of her breath tickled your collarbone as she whispered, "You haven’t ruined anything."

"Yet." You chuckled, squeezing her waist just a little—just enough to feel real.

"You know…" Haley’s voice dropped to something softer, something almost dangerous.

She leaned closer—so close that her lips nearly grazed your jaw.

"You smell good today."

You nearly stopped breathing. Her words hit you like a punch to the gut.

You could take on a horde of monsters in the mines. You could rebuild an entire town from the ground up.

But this? This had you completely, utterly defenseless.

And then, like a goddamn idiot, you whispered, "Had to smell my best for my queen, right?"

She smiled. She actually smiled.

And Yoba help you, you were so, so doomed.

****

A/n: I only wrote this different perspective for fun and yet I found myself giggling as I wrote the scenes. From Haley’s perspective, it’s completely and utterly different. It was messy, chaotic and uncertain. It was a push and pull of some kind. And our farmer, the ever calm and collected between the two of them has been fighting a losing battle all this time. She was better with emotions but she’s quite a runner, and well… denial is her thing also haha. Also if you noticed, some dialogues were different but with the same thought. I thought it’d be a fun detail to add that since it’s from a different perspective, they have a different way of narrating the scenes. Anyway, I have to stop here because it’s getting far too long. I also maxed out the 1k block soooo . 🤷‍♀️ I also didn’t plan to do the farmer’s perspective for every chapter but I found myself writing it nonetheless. I find it quite fun and interesting that while writing, I’m starting to learn the qualities and quirks of the farmer even though she’s my own creation. 

If you want, you can listen to Every Breath You Take by The Police, Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer, and Bags by Clairo while reading because this special chapter is inspired by these songs.

Anyhow, sorry for the long wait. I only have time on Saturdays to write so please forgive me. I hope you’re all doing well. Ciao!

[the-froschamethyst4]

Lesson Learned

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Alex x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: angst, language, children, married couple, teenager, yelling, family dispute/argument, underage drinking, smoking, sad ending (sorry),

𖤐Summary: Alex and Y/n wonder where they went wrong with their first born

————

————

"He's not home."

"Where the fuck is this kid, he's missed his curfew and he forgot to pick his sister up front school, where the fuck is he?" Alex was getting pissed off.

His oldest son Blake had left school half way through with his friends, his location is off, and he didn't pick up his little sister Maddie from school when it was over. Maddie had to take the public bus which was dangerous for a middle school girl, thank God she got home safely, but where the hell was Blake?

Blake has been going off the deep end for a few weeks almost months now.

Coming home late, leaving school early or half way through, and they all end up with the same situation.

'I left with Sean'

Sean was this new kid in Blake's school, and him and Blake have became almost inseparable and getting themselves into so much trouble.

Alex hates Sean and it was obvious too. Y/n didn't meet Sean, and couldn't give an opinion on him, but she does hate the fact that Blake turned from such a good kid to someone who's getting into trouble.

Maddie comes down the stairs with her phone in hand and handed it to Y/n showing her a post Blake had just made.

"Alex," Y/n calls to her husband. He turns and sees Blake at possibly Sean's house a bottle of vodka in his hands and screaming a song, Sean in the back with a joint in his mouth and a red solo cup.

Alex sees red and his blood is boiling.

"Alex? Honey?"

He doesn't say anything but gets his phone and calls the police.

-------------

Blake and Sean were just drinking and smoking, guess having a good time maybe, Sean's parents didn't care what he did in fact they were separated and Sean lived with his father who didn't care what he did while his mom never yelled or punished him as a kid, so she didn't care what he did.

There was a pounding knock on the door, making them both stop what they were doing, Sean puts his joint out and Blake hid the vodka under the bed.

"Hello, officer."

"Hello, is Blake Keller here?"

"Yes?"

Blake comes out of the room.

"That's me."

"You're under arrest for illegal underage drinking and smoking," he motions to his partner to put Sean in cuffs too, but Sean fought the officer and Blake was quickly getting escorted into the back of a cruiser.

His mind was racing, heart pounding and his world was in slow motion. What the hell will happen to him? Is he going to jail? What will his parents think? He disappointed them.

--------------

Alex and Y/n sat in the parking lot of their local police station, they had gotten a call a few minutes ago about having Blake in their custody.

"Alex, why would you do that?" Y/n asked, not upset with Alex but just wanted to know. Why get the police involve when Alex could have gone to Sean's house and get Blake himself.

"Because I want to show this punk a fucking lesson," Alex says, tapping his stirring wheel, looking very annoyed, his index finger joint in his mouth.

"Are we gonna go in and get him?"

"Not yet..." he says.

----------------

Blake sits in a cell with Sean, Sean wasn't taking this as seriously as Blake. Blake's leg was bouncing up and down nervous, Sean was picking fights with the passing officers.

He turns to Blake. "Bro, when we get out of here, I'm gonna go smoke a fat one, you want one?"

Since both boys were underage with something kind of minor, like the drinking and smoking, they were just being held till a parent comes and gets them.

Blake hasn't even made a call to either parent, he was still unaware the person who made the call was his own father.

"Hey, officer," Blake goes to the cell door and gets the attention of a female officer. He did ignore Sean's request to smoke a joint afterwards. She just turns and looks at him. "Can I make my phone call?" He asked.

She gets the keys and opens the cell letting Blake out to go use the phone. Blake looks at the phone, he taps the desk thinking who he'd call first. He starts putting in Y/n's number, she might not be too mad at him if he called his dad.

Y/n looks down at her phone and shows Alex, the station was calling again.

"Answer," he says.

"Hello?" She puts the phone on speaker, but Alex would keep quiet even though he wants to yell at Blake.

"Mom."

"Blake, honey, is everything okay?" She knows it's not.

"Nah mom...I...I was with Sean and police came to the house...we were both arrested for underage drinking and smoking...I'm at the police station...could...you come and get me...I don't...I don't want dad to know either."

Y/n looks at her husband who was trying to hold his anger in.

"I-I'll come and get you," she lied. She hangs up and looks at Alex.

"We give it a few minutes." he says.

--------------------

It's been 30 minutes since Blake's phone call, Blake was laying on the bench, knees to his stomach, he was tired, and ended up falling asleep, Sean still hasn't made his call, not knowing who to call.

"Blake Keller!" An officer yells at the cell, making Blake wake up. He sits up and looks at the officer and stood up walking to the cell door. "Your father is here."

Dammit

The door was opened and Blake followed the officer to the main entrance of the station, Blake sees a pissed off Alex, arms crossed over his chest.

"Dad-"

"Save it," Alex walks out first and Blake behind him, head down and once he opened the car door, he sees his mom in the passenger seat. He leaned back and the car ride was silent, so silent not even the radio was playing it was like a punishment.

Getting home Alex steps into the house first door shuts once Y/n was the last to enter the house.

"You are an idiot." Alex says.

"Alex!"

"He is Y/n, do not stand up for him!" He looks at Blake. "You are an idiot, you leave school half way through, you didn't pick up your little sister from school, you post, you drinking and smoking-which was even stupider because your sister saw it and let us know, I called the police to come and get you," Alex confesses.

"I wasn't smoking-"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER BLAKE!! YOU WERE STILL DRINKING UNDERAGE!!" Alex yells. "We gave you a car thinking you'd had some responsibility one of them being you pick up your sister from school, she took the public bus which is fucking dangerous, Blake, and you know that! I want your keys, your phone, laptop, video games and you are NOT ALLOWED to be even near Sean, the same vicinity as him, because you are fucking grounded-"

"Grounded!!"

"Yes, grounded till I fucking say so!" Alex storms up to Blake's room and Blake follows.

Y/n couldn't do anything, she could only watch and make sure Maddie wouldn't hear the yelling and harsh cursing from both Alex and Blake.

"I should just fucking destroy everything you own!" Alex threatens.

"Alex, please-"

"You're such an asshole!"

"Blake!"

Alex takes almost every electronic Blake owned and took it to his and Y/n's shared bedroom, putting it all in a box, tapping it up and shoving it into Alex's closet.

"Alex!"

"It's done Y/n," he says.

"I get that, but-"

"No buts, you are too easy on him."

Y/n just stays quiet. "I am not."

"You are...he called you because you know you wouldn't get mad at him, you're too easy on both of them-if this was Maddie, would you get mad or will you act how you're acting now?"

"I am mad, Alex! But I think what you are doing is unnecessary and harsh-"

"He's a teenager, he'll get over it and maybe it'll teach him a fucking lesson which is what I want happen, you do stupid shit, you'll end up in jail and you'll be punished."

"I'm sleeping in Maddie's room tonight," she says.

"Why?"

"Because I don't wanna talk right now," she takes one of her pillows and a soft blanket and heads to her daughters bedroom, Alex didn't stop her.

-------------

Y/n gently pushes the door and the little lamp next to Maddie's bed turned on. Y/n stops in her tracks and looks at Maddie.

"Mom? What are you doing?" She asked.

"Nothing, hon-"

"Did you and dad get into a fight?"

"Did you hear us?" Maddie just nods. "It was about your brother."

"I heard," Y/n comes to her daughter and Maddie moves over letting her mom get into her bed and get comfortable. "Is Blake grounded?"

"Yeah, yeah he is," Y/n says.

"For how long?"

"I'm not sure." Maddie just lays on her back and Y/n watches.

"Was it my fault?"

"Baby, why would it be your fault?" Y/n asked.

"Because I showed you where his location was."

"Baby, if anything you did the right thing."

"But I got Blake in trouble with dad."

"It's fine, baby. They'll be mad, like little boys and they'll get over it..."

"I don't know...dad seems kind of scary when he gets mad." And Alex almost never gets mad, maybe frustrated but not cussing in every sentance he says.

--------------------

Alex laid on his back in the empty bed, he was laying on Y/n's side, he just thinks about everything that just happened.

Was he a bad dad?

Where did he go wrong?

Did he do something wrong?

He rolls on his back and stares up at the ceiling before closing his eyes.

-----------------

The next morning Maddie and Y/n were up Y/n was fixing herself some coffee and Maddie was sitting on the couch watching something, Blake had came down with no word said to his mother or little sister.

He grabbed a pop tart and sat on the love seat leg propped up on the other, he reaches over and takes the remote and changed the channel.

"Hey!" Maddie says.

Blake was just giving attitude the entire time, he didn't speak to Y/n nor Maddie, even when Maddie was telling him to turn the channel back to what she was watching, he ignored her.

"Blake do you want breakfast?"

Nothing.

"Give me the remote," Maddie says.

Nothing.

Alex soon gets up not even looking at his son, his gaze was set on Y/n, going to her and kissing her nape.

"Can we talk?" He asked. She just gives a nod and follows him to their shared bedroom.

He shuts the door and sits on the bed, he moves Y/n to be in front of him, he placed his arms around her waist and burying his face into her stomach.

"I'm sorry..." He apologizes.

"For?"

"I'm sorry for being an asshole to you, saying to take it too easy on our kids, you're a good mom, the best wife and mother, I could ask for and for the kids, never forget that please," he says, looking up at her, his chin resting on her stomach.

"I forgive you..." she says, cupping his face and bring him up, so they could kiss.

Going downstairs, Maddie was trying to reach for the remote from Blake but he was just holding it out of her reach. Alex in the way of being able to take the remote snatches it from Blake and tosses it on the couch for Maddie.

"Don't be an ass," Alex says to Blake.

"Don't be a dick," Blake says.

"Blake, enough!" Y/n says, Y/n looks at Maddie who just learned the signal that once Y/n and Alex get serious to leave the room, which she does.

"You got in trouble, I know you're mad at us and everyone in the world right now, but please-"

"Please, what mom? I'm stuck in this house now, and my one friend is I think still sitting in the police station-"

"Your one friend? What about Mark, Tyler, Lucas, Chris, and Hunter? What about them? They are your friends, fucking Sean was using you, kid, you said yes to everything so fucking easily, you are smarter then this Blake. I don't understand how you thought you two were friends, he was using you!" Alex says.

"No he wasn't-"

"If he wasn't, why were you two in jail again? Oh right, underage drinking and smoking, because of him, just because his parents don't love him doesn't mean yours don't! Your mother begged me not to call the police on you, but for you to learn a lesson, it had to be fucking done, and I'm tired of this attitude bullshit, Blake...grow up!"

"I am grown!"

"Fighting words," Alex says, Blake stood up to Alex, but Alex was in the goddamn Military, you think he'd be afraid of his own kid? Chest to chest, spit for spat, Alex and Blake just kept yelling at each other. Y/n tried to pull both males from one another, but that was hard when Blake would press on.

"FUCK YOU!"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!" Alex yells, pointing to the door, it was silent, Y/n looked at her husband, tears welting in her eyes, she turns to Blake who didn't seem faze and felt like he knew this would happen, he doesn't say anything but goes upstairs.

Y/n looks up at her husband tears finally falling. "W-Why?"

"Honey..." he doesn't have anything to say and Y/n just goes upstairs to follow her son. Y/n was trying to take to Blake, but he was just packing and ignoring her.

"Blake please." Maddie hears from the walls her mother sounding hurt, distraught even. Maddie was crying to, she didn't want her brother to leave, but she couldn't argue back.

He pushes past his mom, no word exchanged but Y/n begging her son to stay and telling her husband to change his mind, but Alex just sat on the couch looking at the black screen TV, hands over his mouth and then the door slams shut from Blake.

"HOW COULD YOU!!?"

"..."

"ALEX!"

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 50

Chapter 50 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, a few weeks after everything has gone down, Eddie and Buck have settled into their relationship and have gotten more comfortable. Today, they go to the newly opened Santa Monica beach with Chris, before going for dinner at the Grant-Nash house.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: none (wild for this fic, I know xp) (unless you wanna count the water trauma/anxiety mention)

~~~

Chapter 50: Epilogue, Buck and Eddie

Santa Monica beach is opening today. Eddie has been nervous about taking Buck and Chris there, even if he knows it’s the right decision. They went through something huge, seeing the sea will make it smaller. Frank even agrees with him and he’s a therapist. Because that’s something Eddie does now; go to therapy. As does Chris.

Bobby half made him after he got the whole story out of Eddie while waiting in the hospital, but he was already planning on it. He wanted to set the right example for Chris, not fuck it up again. It’s been helpful.

Still, he keeps a hawk like eye on both of them as they get out of the car. Buck has driven them there and it seems to go well so far, but you never know.

Eddie does most of the carrying as Chris speeds away on his new crutches, determined to find them the best place to sit, while Buck keeps up with him so he won’t get separated from them.

They end up snatching a pretty nice spot near the water, where they set out the little chairs they have as well as a cooler with drinks and snacks. Buck lathers Chris in sunscreen while Eddie works hard to inflate the floaties.

Once Chris is all sunscreened up, Eddie motions for Buck to come over so he can get his back. He has seen how Buck can burn and he already knows who is going to be responsible for putting aloe vera everywhere when he burns. Not that having to lather Buck up is a burden, but he can’t help but preemptively wrinkle his nose at how the sheets will get sticky.

Buck obliges happily, sinking down between Eddie’s legs and passing the bottle over to him. His back is broad and Eddie has now only has a little shame in copping a few feels as he applies the sunscreen. He’s gotten a lot more comfortable these past few weeks and if he wants to subtly grope his boyfriend, he’s allowed to do that. Even if he has to actively remind himself of that.

It’s clear Buck notices, because he sends him a pervy look and waggles his eyebrows when Eddie is done. Eddie just pushes his face away with a big grin on his own face, pretending to be innocent and deflecting by calling out to Chris: “Wanna swim or built a sand castle first?”

“Sand castle,” Chris decides.

They have already agreed to not push Chris to go into the sea unless he wants to. Mentally Eddie has put Buck in that category as well, but he hasn’t mentioned it to him. Buck is distancing himself from the whole thing by vicariously coping through Chris, and Eddie is letting him. Though he only does that, because he is making sure he keeps an eye on Buck.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Buck cheers, getting out the sand castle tools.

Eddie is more than content to sit in his little beach chair and watch as Chris and Buck take the construction of a giant sandcastle way too seriously.

Buck has also been researching natural disasters as a way to cope and one of the side tracks of that had been construction. At first it had been earthquake safe architecture, which had spiraled into architecture in general, until Eddie found him reading up on the history of construction.

Right now, he recognizes some of the construction techniques Buck had told him about when they were laying in bed together. It’s one of Eddie’s favorite parts of his day, sprawling over Buck’s chest at the end of the day, while Buck cards a hand through his hair and tells him facts about whatever thing he’s researching as Eddie half dozes off.

He is also dozing slightly now, watching through half-lidded eyes as a whole city appears out of the sand. He didn’t used to be this sleepy before he started dating Buck, however, ever since they got together, he’s been so relaxed that sleepiness comes easier to him.

Eddie does wake up a little more when Buck calls for a snack and hydration break. He hands out bottles of water and pre-cut apples, because Buck has something against biting into whole apples, since ‘that puts stress on your teeth, Eddie. You have to be careful with your teeth, they won’t heal like bones do.’

Chris and Buck are both equally excited to show off their creation, apparently they have taken infrastructure and supply chains into account and it’s a perfect city-castle.

When the apples and water are gone, Chris suddenly says: “I want to go swimming, but I’m a little scared.”

Buck and Eddie exchange a look. They’ve prepared for this moment. Eddie says: “We can go into the water, but we don’t have to go too deep. If you don’t want to go further, we won’t. If you do, we can try that. Me and papi will be there the whole time.”

“I know that.” However, Chris worries his lip between his teeth regardless, the little crease that matches the one Eddie get sometimes appearing on his forehead.

“Hey,” Buck nudges him, waiting until Chris looks up before continuing: “I’m a little nervous to go into the water too.”

“You are?” Chris asks with wide eyes. “But you’re a hero, you’re super cool and strong. You’re a firefighter!”

“Thank you. You’re a hero too, you know that, right, Superman?” Buck replies. “And I feel a lot better about going in there, because you’re gonna be there.” He puts on a hushed voice, leaning in as if sharing a secret: “You make me feel brave.”

If you’d go off Chris’s face, you’d say he’s just been told magic is real. “I do?” he asks with wonder.

“You do,” Buck confirms with a nod. “So what do you say? Wanna go dip your toes in? Promise the fishies won’t eat them.”

“Fish don’t eat toes, papi,” Chris giggles, already climbing to his feet, as he calls: “Come on, you guys are being slow.”

“We’re coming, you’re just too fast, mijo,” Eddie laughs, getting up and snatching Chris’s floaties for extra safety, doesn’t matter how shallow they’ll stay.

Chris complains about them when Eddie puts them on, but he doesn’t try to fight him off. While he is struggling against the rigid plastic, he catches Buck doing the breathing exercises Eddie showed him after the tsunami. He hasn’t gone back to therapy, too many bad memories, but he’s open to the things Eddie shares.

With the floaties on, Chris is off towards the water, but Eddie hangs back for a second, softly asking: “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Buck snaps back to the here and now, before sending Eddie a small smile. “Yeah, I’ll be okay.”

“You also don’t have to go in, you know that right?” Eddie says. “I can go with him in and that is more than fine. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“No, I want to. I don’t want to be scared of the water either. Besides, I meant what I said to Chris, I don’t think I’ll get in without him there.”

Eddie looks him over critically for a second, trying to say if he’s lying. He isn’t. “Okay, but the second you need to, you get out. Understood?”

“Bossy,” Buck grins.

“Buck, I’m serious.”

“I know.” The grins turns into something gentler, more tender. “I appreciate it, Eddie, but I’m okay. Really. Thank you though,” he says, slinging an arm around Eddie as he presses a kiss to his forehead.

It still makes him dizzy how easily Buck does that, in a good way. He leans his head against his shoulder for a second, before pulling back. “I love you. Now let’s go, before Mr. Impatient comes back.”

Right on time, Chris calls out: “Papi! Daddy! Stop being gross and come onnn!”

They both snort and start to walk towards him. Buck squeezes Eddie’s hand and Eddie looks up at him questioningly. “I love you too,” Buck tells him.

Then he lets go and jogs over to where Chris is, saying: “Gimme your hand, Superman.”

Confused Chris does as asked, though he questions: “Why?”

“We’re a team, remember. We go in together,” Buck answers. “Wanna do the honors, or do you want me to count down?”

“Me! Me! I want to!”

Eddie watches from behind them. This is a moment for the two of them and Eddie will stand behind them to have their back as they take this first step. Chris counts down and he can see the tension rise in Buck’s shoulders, but when Chris reaches zero, he steps forward right beside Chris.

He doesn’t even know he’s holding his breath, until he releases it when he sees Buck and Chris unclench. Buck laughs: “That was kind of underwhelming, huh?”

“A little,” Chris giggles.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says as he joins them, playing up a theatrical shiver as he says: “This water is freezing, you guys could have said something.”

“You’ve only just dipped in your toes,” Buck deadpans.

“Yeah, daddy, you’re being dramatic,” Chris joins.

“Oh, I see how it is, it’s bully daddy hour, is it?” Eddie pouts, mock-upset as he sets himself up as a distraction while they make their way further into the water.

“Yup,” Buck says, gleefully splashing Eddie with water as Eddie shrieks, while Chris joins in with gusto until it’s a full blown water fight.

They end up hanging around the beach for a few hours, before getting back in the car to drive to Bobby and Athena’s house. They’ve been invited for dinner, a thing that’s been happening more regularly. The 118 is moving away from being extra family to becoming in-crowd family.

When they get there, it’s more than dinner. The whole back yard is filled with everyone, who yell out: “Congrats!”

Both Eddie and Buck look at everyone in confusion, before looking at each other. Neither of them appear to know what they’re being congratulated for.

“Check it out,” Chimney says, showing off the cake to them. On it is written: Congratulations on getting to suck faces at work

“The paperwork came through,” Buck realizes, looking over at Bobby.

“It sure did,” Bobby smiles, looking quite pleased with himself for setting this all up. “We got the word today. Next shift, you’re coming off B-shift and back to A-shift, while Bosko returns back to the newly rebuilt 136.”

“That’s amazing!” Buck exclaims, hugging Bobby, before hugging Eddie.

Eddie is less expressive, though equally as excited as Buck is about the prospect of getting to work together again. The past few weeks with Bosko as a partner have been fine, but he misses his partner.

However, there was a reason they lied at first, getting the paperwork worked out was a hellish nightmare. Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way Halleway’s eyebrow twitched when they came to talk about it, after they’d just done a whole investigation into their fraternization. He never wants to do that again, no thanks.

Not to mention that the way he acted during the tsunami wasn’t very helpful. He thinks their previous track record, Buck not being on duty and Bobby’s testimony that he found Eddie right where he ordered them to be, are the only things that saved them. But he’s not going to question a good thing too much.

Buck pulls back and kisses him, first on the mouth, then all over his face as he yells: “We get to work together again!”

“We do,” Eddie yells back, grin splitting his face in half, as he matches Buck’s enthusiasm. He can’t help himself, Buck is too excited for him not to do that.

“Just because the cake said it, doesn’t mean you two actually get to do this stuff on the clock,” Hen calls out.

“Yeah, we get enough of you two being mushy off the clock,” Chimney hollers.

“You guys are just jealous,” Buck sniffs haughtily, playing it up, but also meaning it just a little bit.

Both Chimney and Hen immediately start protesting and bragging about their own partners that are amazing, just not firefighters. Bobby silences them all by saying: “There is an expectation of professionalism in the firehouse. I will be writing you up. So, no stolen fire engines.”

He directs the last part at Buck with a pointed look. Buck blushes brightly and groans dramatically as he hides away behind Eddie. “That was one time.”

“Two times,” Bobby corrects. “I remember the second time a bit too vividly for my taste too.”

“Okay, enough of that. There are kids here,” Athena interrupts. “What do you all say about some food, huh?”

Luckily, they are all easily bought with food, so it’s the right thing to say. They get served some good barbecue and cake as people congratulate him and Buck. The kids run around, their laughter intermingling with the conversations starting up all over.

As he watches everyone squeeze Buck tightly for an extra second, Eddie realizes that everyone here must have known what he and Buck had done today. Bobby has organized this whole thing and everyone came, knowing him and Buck might cancel. They’d all been prepared to go home if today was too much for Buck or Chris, showing up anyway, just so they could have the opportunity to celebrate this with them if they did feel up to it.

Buck is soaking up all the attention, seeming not to notice that detail. This has become his normal and when Eddie remembers the lost twenty-three year old he met, he can’t help but be so glad he got to see him grow into this person he knows today. Glad he got to grow with him and got to grow into this family.

He gets snapped out of his revelry by Karen, who calls out: “Eddie, come here, I found this Merlot to try. Athena hates it, but I think it’s nice, you gotta tell me what you think.”

“Why would you let Athena try? She never appreciates a Merlot,” Eddie calls back while going her way, as Athena yells: “I heard that!”

Karen and him have struck up a great friendship in the weeks after the tsunami and she has gotten him into wine. Buck says he’s becoming a snob about it, but Eddie insists he’s just developing proper taste, drinking like an adult instead of a frat boy.

Meanwhile, Buck has become the center of attention of a game, playing with the kids as he chases them around the yard, making ridiculous monster noises while the kids shriek with the delight as they hide or get caught.

It’s a pleasant evening. One of good food, good company and good news.

They end up staying until deep in the night, when most of the kids are already passed out on the couch and the adults are also struggling to keep their eyes open. None of them want the night to end, but they have to go home at some point. So, they say their goodbyes, before Eddie carries Chris to the car.

Buck drives back while Chris naps in the back seat and Eddie dozes in the passenger seat. Buck is softly humming along to whatever song is playing on the radio, his big hand warm on Eddie’s thigh as his thumb strokes along to the beat.

At home, Eddie blinks awake, lolling his head over to Buck as he asks: “Empty the car tomorrow? I am beat.”

“God, same,” Buck groans. “Sounds like a great plan. Wanna get Chris or the door?”

“I’ll get Chris.”

Thus, Eddie carries Chris to the door, while Buck undoes all the locks. When taking Chris to his room, Tubs insists on wrapping himself around Eddie’s legs, nearly tripping him up. However, he manages to do the dance, being used to the little guy’s antics.

He wrestles a half-sleeping Chris into comfier clothes and forcing a toothbrush into sleepy mouth the best he can, before tucking him in, pushing a stray curl from his forehead and whispering: “Goodnight, mijo.”

Eddie drops a kiss on Chris’s forehead, then slowly backs out of the room, turning off the light as he goes, but leaving a crack at the door so Tubs can come in the middle of the night as he likes to do.

With that done, he joins Buck in the bathroom. He still thinks Buck’s whole dental hygiene regime is a little ridiculous, but he happily does it with him at the end of each day. It’s nice and domestic, to stand in the bathroom together and brushing their teeth, trying to talk as they floss and failing spectacularly.

What was once Buck’s room, is now their room. Buck’s chair of clothes still persists in the corner, but Eddie’s neat pile on the dresser has joined them, the wedding pictures that had been taken unseriously are framed now, standing proudly on a shelf, and the upper drawer in Buck’s bedside table now has a lock to prevent too young eyes from looking in it

Both of them all but stumble out of their clothes and into their pajamas. Eddie asks: “You’re gonna go on your phone some more?”

“Nah, I’m tired,” Buck answers, getting into bed and invitingly holding open the blanket so Eddie can crawl in next to him.

Eddie would love nothing more than to join him, but he first has to check. “How’s your leg?”

“Good,” Buck assures him with a fond smile, before waving the blanket. If Buck had said anything else, Eddie would have gotten out the massage oil, but it seems today is a good day indeed.

“Okay,” Eddie hums as he takes Buck up on that invitation, making himself comfortable on what is his side of the bed- well, actually it’s mostly Buck’s side on the bed that he makes himself comfortable on, but it’s not his fault that Buck is on that side of the bed and Eddie wants to be close to him.

Buck just watches Eddie get comfortable with an amused look on his face, waiting until Eddie is done, before smirking: “Comfy?”

Eddie props his head up on Buck’s chest and shamelessly grins: “Very.”

“Kiss?”

Naturally, Eddie obliges as he always does, leaning over so he can kiss Buck, which turns into lazily making out. Until Eddie groans: “Ugh, I’m too tired to be horny.”

Buck chuckles at that, stroking Eddie’s side with his hand as he says: “That’s okay. I wasn’t really working up to anything, so I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“No need to be so smug,” Eddie grouches, though the little crinkles around his eyes give him away.

“You love it when I’m smug,” Buck says, hugging Eddie tightly so he can’t move away, having to angle his head down to look at him from what is probably a less than attractive angle, not that he cares.

“Sadly,” Eddie says, his face telling him the opposite.

Of course, Buck has to kiss him again about that, until a yawn interrupts them, causing Buck to laugh: “Okay, bedtime. Officially.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, rolling off Buck to curl up, so Buck can slot himself behind him. Once he is comfortably wrapped around Eddie, Eddie murmurs: “Goodnight, mi amor. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Buck replies, giving Eddie’s shoulder a kiss, before dropping his head onto his pillow and doing that thing where he snuggles in that bit closer that he always does.

They fall asleep pretty soon. Today had been exhausting and they’re both glad it’s weekend and they’re off tomorrow. Neither even want to think about an alarm right now.

Chris, however, did not get that memo and is up bright and early, ready to wake them up, which he does in true Christopher fashion. He busts open the door and clambers onto the bed, wiggling in between both of them as he says: “You gotta wake up. It’s morning.”

Buck rolls out of the way to make space for Chris, while Eddie lets out a loud groan, hiding his face under his pillow as he tries to pretend today hasn’t arrived yet. Even with all his years in the army and their irregular hours, Eddie still isn’t a morning person.

“Morning, buddy,” Buck greets him with sleep hoarse voice. There is a mrurp, before a second weight joins them on the bed. “And hello Tubs.”

“He’s hungry,” Chris announces, picking Tubs up and planting him on his lap as he pets his fur. He had been taken with the cat from the moment they got him and Tubs has decided that Chris is the best human, so they’re fast friends.

“Oh, is he?” Buck asks with amusement. “And what does Tubs require?”

“Bacon,” Chris informs him. “And I require pancakes.”

“Ahhh, is that so?” Buck says his amusement not going away. “Well, then, let’s see what we can do about those requirements while daddy gets his beauty sleep in.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie grumbles from under his pillow, making both Chris and Buck giggle.

Buck throws the blanket off himself, but makes sure to tuck it around Eddie again. He kisses his cheek and says: “Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep in. I’ll save you some.”

“You’re the best,” Eddie tells him, muffled by his pillow as he snuggles back into it, already starting to drop off again. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Buck says, affection and warmth coloring his voice.

Meanwhile, Chris has put Tubs back down, so they can make their way to the kitchen, already calling out to Buck: “You’re being too slow, papi. We require food.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Buck calls out, before muttering: “Bossy. He gets that from you, you know.”

Playing oblivious, Eddie just says: “I’m sleeping,” which makes Buck snort.

He follows child and cat to the kitchen and gets started on breakfast while Chris tells him all about the weird dream he had.

By the time, Buck is almost done with making breakfast, Eddie has reconciled with the fact that it is, in fact, morning and has dragged himself out of bed. He comes stumbling down the hall, plastering himself against Buck’s back as he says: “Hm, smells nice.”

“You know what smells even nicer?”

“No?”

“This coffee I made you,” Buck tells him, handing him the mug with coffee. It has a sugar in it, a new appearance that Eddie allows himself now.

Eddie releases Buck enough for him to receive the mug, taking the first sip as he groans: “You’re my hero.”

“I try,” Buck smiles.

“Is breakfast almost done?” Chris asks without any sort of regard for any moments he might be interrupting. To be fair to Chris, if he started to care now, he’d never get a word in edgewise.

“That it is,” Buck says, plating the food and presenting Chris with a plate of bacon and pancakes, as well as a cup of juice and a little extra bowl for Tubs. “Here you go, good sir.”

“Thank you!” Chris exclaims, before releasing Tubs so they can dig in.

“And a plate for you,” Buck says, handing Eddie a plate, before taking the last one for himself, the three of them eating breakfast as a family.

When Shannon went to buy her eggs on that faithful Thursday, she never meant to create a family that she is no longer a part of and she probably never imagined it would end like this. But it did. And the three people, plus one cat, in the small house in LA are very grateful to her for making that egg run.

It’s truly curious how the universe works sometimes.

~~

A/N:

Ahh, we did it! I’m so sad yet so proud that it is done. Thank you so much for sticking this out with me to the end. I never could expected how well received this work has been and how nice everyone is, so truly, thank you <3.

And because I like adding this as a little jump scare at the end of my long fics: congratulations on reading 300 pages xp

(also wouldn’t it have been fucked if I gave Buck his pulmonary embolism anyway in that back yard party instead of graciously letting him go without it? Like if it ended with him just dropping? That would have been so mean of me, but no, I’m skipping that storyline, cause I can be nice… sometimes)

As a final note, I want to add that this universe is not over yet. I am going to continue posting AUAUs and, surprise, I’m planning a sequel (though I don’t know how long it’ll take me to write it or how long it’ll be, right now I’m hoping to have max 10 chapters, but this fic was supposed to be max 100k, so what do I know lmao). Anyways, make sure to subscribe to both series if you want more of this! :D

[noelxbe]

bexstevie

god, stevie hopes he doesn't. if things don't work at studio delta, then he's probably done after that; a third stint? he doesn't have it in him mentally to do it again. "never again a contestant. please-- we did our time." he says in a rush, making a motion of prayer. he's not sure if he'd join a show similar to next gen or not-- depending on the prize pool, maybe. "returning back as a coach would be cool. i like that they brought them back on this past season." it was nice to see familiar faces again. "really?" stevie blinks. he kinda knew that, even if he wasn't sure what applied where. he knew studio delta was more of a self-produced powerhouse, but he truthfully didn't pay too much attention; he just listened to what most people were saying online. "they're all pretty good at what they do though, no? must means whatever they got going down is working." "everytime i think i have it down, i mess it up." there's been so many instances of mess-ups because of his language barrier when he started working; to be honest, it's kinda given him a bit more of a push to try and learn more, but it's hard when there's so many other things he'd rather be doing. "i'm the same way dude. we should try learning together! or wait...do you think that might be a bad idea?" he laughs at the idea. they might get caught up chatting too much to actually get any real work done. "mine too! unless we're talking like...serious business. once they switch to english, i usually know i'm in for something." he rubs the back of his neck. "i prefer it, anyway. easier to get my thoughts out. you can always switch it to english with me, promise!"

“man i did it once and it felt like more than enough, you managed to survive through the show twice though…” noel truly finds stevie cool for being able to handle the show twice. had noel not gotten the contract the first time though, he might just have given up on the idol dream, so he was quite lucky he got that contract the first time he joined next gen. “i would say i would never return to a survival show again” he runs a hand through his hair “but if the prize was debut, i’m not sure what i’d do” he pouts, thinks about the possibility, he’s grown a lot since next gen, but he fears the evil editing would return if he ever joined a survival show.

“as far as my understanding goes, it seems like sr media, lime and studio delta are some of the biggest companies at the moment” that knowledge he got simply by his sister, he’d never investigated her words, simply chose to believe them. “so i suppose you’re lucky if you become a trainee in one of the companies” he shrugs “but they must know what they’re doing since they’re all big companies? i’m sure they all have different things that work out for them”.

“i’ve always been a quick learner, but when it comes to korean… not sure what happened, but i’m still not completely fluent” he sighs. “perhaps we should practice together, might not be the worst idea” he leans a bit back, “man i just finished school, and i’m still not done studying” a short laugh escapes his lips. “i don’t think us speaking english together will help with our korean, but… i just miss speaking english so bad” he pouts.

[thenotoriousscuttlecliff]

Starting to think many don't really know what a filler episode is if they think all of these are filler. A filler episode isn't just a one-off story, but normally something that just feels like it is utterly forgettable and disposable and mainly there to fill out the schedule because the writers didn't have any better ideas. Episodes like Move Along Home, The Storyteller, Second Sight, The Muse, Let He Who Is Without Sin, Resurrection, Profit and Lace, etc. The type of episodes many will just skip on a rewatch.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The four alignments of Tummy Hurt

[posthumous-pagan]

I love veiling. I love carrying my home with me. praise to the theoi. I love my religion

[selfship-confession-box]

🍊⚙️ mod, I don't know if you've ever been told this but I love the little statements you leave in the tags occasionally. I really like selfship confession blogs that respond to things(which I completely understand can be a hard thing in general with so many asks, nonetheless ones that can be upsetting and it's not restricted to being just lighthearted confessions), but it's hard for me to find confession blogs that do that. One of the few that I did find that responded to things they didn't even respond, they'd respond with things like "this is irrelevant to the ask but I am so tired today" and it bugged me a little cause like... why respond at all then?? I'm not throwing shade or anything to the blogger, it's just like opening a little goody bag to me to see what you've typed in the tags.

Anon you have no idea how happy this makes me (the way I IMMEDIATELY went to fawn over it to the other mods helpp hehee)

I was a bit nervous about it at first, actually, since it seems like I do it for every post I queue, but after seeing how positively people have responded to it so far, I'm like. Whehawhew!!! y'know?! <3

Consequence of being, and I quote in my very own words from (probably earlier than) Sept. 23rd, "unapologetically A Yapper" <3

[thedreadvampy]

lmao it is undeniably true that I am Depressi Spaghetti but you know. fuck it we continue.

[meetthegofer]

the fun thing about this series is that some characters have really absurd backstories which means i get to give my self insert some bullshit too. he loves phone more than god

[disastergay]

I might be more aromantic than I thought