#but i felt i should explain all of this in one go
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rex-rambles · 18 hours ago
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➤ HELLO DARLIN' (SMAU + FIC)
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pairing: daniel ricciardo x countrysinger!reader
summary: you and daniel have a falling out - can an old loretta lynn song bring you back together? (inspired by 'Hello Darlin' by Loretta Lynn)
wc: 1.6 k
warnings: angst with a happy ending :) faceclaim: megan moroney
➤ MASTERLIST
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Liked by kelseaballerini, dollyparton, and 1,361,092 others
yourusername Thank you, Nashville! Needed some of that hometown healing
↳ kelseaballerini 💙 💙 💙
↳ yourusername my favourite VIP
↳ fan54 seeing you live was unreal!! missing you already
liked by yourusername
↳ fan105 anyone notice Daniel wasn't in attendance??
↳ fan29 he's at the Singapore Grand Prix
↳ fan243 he didn't even like the post
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f1gossip Fans noticed that Daniel Ricciardo and long-term partner @/yourusername have unfollowed each other on Instagram.
↳ mclar_win NO, PLEASE NO
↳ fan105 Daniel has to be in the wrong here, the songs she wrote for him were so sweet
↳ fan29 the break-up songs are going to be next level
↳ f1-fanatic so you're telling me he's single
↳ fan12 so you're telling me SHE'S single!!
_
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Liked by kelseaballerini, zachlanebryan, and 1,418,122 others
yourusername I promise I'm getting work done this week, just you wait
↳ kelseaballerini recording? without me?
↳ yourusername you know you're always welcome 🫶
↳ zachlanebryan can you come open the studio door?
↳ fan44 OH MY GOD
↳ fan243 the collab I have been WAITING for
↳ fan98 stay away from her
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Liked by yourusername, kelseaballerini, and others
triple_j On this weeks 'Like a Version', country singer @/yourusername puts her own spin on Loretta Lynn's 'Hello Darlin'. Giving us a behind-the-scenes look at why she chose the song, she explained that her love for old country songs, and her own overuse of the word darling, made it a perfect fit. Only this time, she isn't the one apologizing - the listener should be. 
↳ kelseaballerini you're so talented, I can't believe you @/yourusername
↳ yourusername it was an honour to sing with y'all!!
↳ fan98 you can't tell me this isn't about Daniel. 
↳ fan243 I'd bet real money on it
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_
You were aware it was all a matter of circumstance. The wrong words, the wrong day, the wrong emotions. It had felt like the past month of your relationship with Daniel, he'd been pushing you away, devoting himself to his racing with a vigour you'd never seen before, forgetting every other responsibility he had. 
Then, one random Tuesday afternoon, it had all snapped. All the years you spent together turned into one sentence: 
"Who cares about your music?" 
You were aware it was all a matter of circumstance, but that didn't make it sting any less. Daniel had tried to backpedal, to apologize, but the worst was done. Until he could get his head out of his ass and realize what he was doing to the people around him, you weren't going to be a part of it. 
Didn't mean you didn't miss him any less. Kelsea had stayed up with you at ungodly hours of the night as you poured your heart out to her, how the man who meant so much to you had changed. She'd been the one to show you that he'd been dropped from F1, that he was retiring, and the world slowed a little, and started to make sense. 
Sitting here, waiting for him now, you wonder why he didn't say anything. He'd been racing a long time, sure, but look at Fernando - who knows the age limits of F1 drivers. It had never occurred to you that he was working so hard to save his seat, but that still didn't excuse his behaviour. 
The Nashville heat was evident, even this late at night as you sat curled up on your balcony. If you strained, hard enough, you could make out the music of some bar nearby, a nice old tune if it weren't blasted at such a volume. He said his plane was getting in at 11, and as the clock got closer to midnight, you wondered if he'd actually show. 
He always kept his word, it wasn't like he'd say that and disappear, but this was the first real rough patch you'd hit, and neither of you was really sure how to navigate it.
"Hello, darlin'?" You bolt up, peering over the railing and down to Daniel in the street, blue bouquet of flowers in hand. He had always been one for little romantic gestures, and even after everything, it still hadn't changed. "You know, I'd serenade you, but you are the singer in the relationship, and I don't think the paparazzi need to hear that." 
"I mean, they might appreciate the show." It's old banter, like nothing had changed, like the last time you saw him you hadn't stormed out of his hotel room sobbing. You both realize that you'd slipped into old habits like worn boots, and end up staring at each other for a bit too long. 
"You going to let me up?" Something unknowable passes over Daniel's face as he says it, and you silently nod, moving back into your apartment to buzz him up. You knew he had the spare key, had spent enough nights here to know your keycode, but it was still nice of him to ask. 
In an instant, he's at your front door, and this close, you realize just how much you missed being in his presence. That song wasn't just a random choice. You had listened to it on repeat after everything you went through, and realized every word was about Daniel. Only, you weren't sorry, besides that it all went down the way it did. You're sure he felt the same way, and he holds out the bouquet with a small smile. 
"They're a bit crushed, since they're from England." 
"England?" You let him into the space, setting the flowers down on the kitchen counter to deal with them later. Last you checked, he'd be in Singapore, or maybe back home in Australia.
"I had to finish my offboarding." He admits quietly, still not moved from his place just a few steps in from the door. "They got some celebration stuff they want to plan for me, too, but yesterday made it official." 
He was no longer an F1 driver. You're not quite sure what to say, knowing how much love he put into the sport, but also the relief that it's all over. He did his best, he was moving on, but it still didn't make it hurt any less. "When do you have to go?" 
"The end of the week." Four days. That's how long you had him for. "I've booked a hotel, just a few streets over." 
"What?" Then, it dawns on you again why he's here in the first place. "Oh." 
"I was a dick." Daniel finally begins, setting down his backpack as he approaches you. He stops, the kitchen island between you, and you know if you look into his eyes any longer you're going to cry, so instead, you focus on staring at the flowers he brought. "I was so involved in the end of my career that I ignored how important yours was, and that wasn't fair of me." 
"Why didn't you say anything?" You knew he was stressed, you knew how hard this must have been for him, so why wouldn't he let you in? Every time you went through something, he was right there, listening to you, ready with solutions, or to just validate you.
Why didn't he think you'd do the same? "I didn't really know, but I had a hunch. I thought...if I said anything, it might come true, but I guess it did anyway." He lets out a weak laugh, before slowly moving around the counter to stand right in front of you. "I never should've said what I did, and I hope you know how grateful I am for your music, and everything you've written about me, and I'm so proud of all that you've done."
If the sight of him alone wasn't going to make you cry, his words most certainly were. You immediately step forward, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling him into you, and you bury your face into his sweater, revelling in the smell of him. "I'm not going to lie and say it's all okay," Your voice is muffled by the fabric, and you pull away so he can hear you better. "But I understand what the pressure is like, darlin'. The only thing is I make sure to talk to you about it, rather than try to hide it away." 
"I'm just sorry. So sorry."  Then, the first tears fall, and you unloop your arms from him to wipe at his cheeks, holding him there as he tries to take deep breaths. Seeing him like this hurt more than the distance, knowing that it got to the point where he pushed you out before he could even think to pull you close. You should've been there for him, and the guilt of missing his last race still hangs over you. "I wish you were there for my last race." He continues, taking a deep breath, and your vision blurs as you blink away your own tears.
"I wish I was there too." You whisper as Daniel's hand comes to cradle yours, pulling it away from his cheek to press a kiss to the palm. "I'm sorry about your seat." 
"Ah, well. I've finally got some free time on my hands." He cracks a small smile, and you can't help but smile back. If there was a silver lining, in all of this, it was that Daniel was now a whole lot more free for you, and you needed to make up for lost time. "I hear there's this great country singer touring right now, might go see her." 
That pulls a laugh out of you, shaking your head as he lets your hand drop. "Oh yeah?" 
"Yeah." Then, with the reality of everything hitting again, his eyes dip to the floor as he admits, "I really...I'm really going to miss racing." 
"I know, love." You link your hand with his, pulling him away from the counter and toward the couch, and you force him to sit. You stand before him, holding his face in your hands, and wiping the last of the tear stains away. "But I'm here whenever you need me." 
"Yeah?" This would never have ended in heartbreak. There was no universe where you and Daniel didn't repair everything you went through, because that's just who you were. You made mistakes, and you fixed them together because even hurtful comments in the heat of the moment can't break your love for him. 
"Yeah. I told you, you're a hard man not to love, darlin'." He pulls you down onto him, looping his arms around you to hold you close. You press a kiss to his cheek as you relax into him, having missed the ways his arms feel around you. Neither of you speak for a while, just listening to the sound of each other breathing as you let yourself take up space in each other's lives again. Then, when it feels right, you rest your head back against his shoulder to look at him. "I picked up some things for you since we were running low." 
Confusion crosses over Daniel's face as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "Hm?" 
"Shampoo, your toothpaste, all that." Something sparks in his eyes, a realization that, despite the whole apology, you'd already planned for him to stay, already got his favourite things. You might've been hurt, but there's no way Daniel's staying in a hotel, away from you, when that bed's been calling his name since he left. "What? You really think you were coming here tonight for me to kick you out?" 
"I love you, you know that?" Those words always sounded so nice, coming from him, and tonight's no different as you lean forward to properly kiss him. It's a tender thing, kindled only by your time apart, no need to rush into something more than just sitting on the couch and letting each other be.
"Oh, I do." You say against his lips, hand smoothing against his chest. "But, it wouldn't hurt to have a little reminder-" 
Daniel's kissing you again before you can even finish the sentence, and you decide that for the next four days, you're not moving from this couch, and you're not moving from his arms. 
_
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f1gossip Making up (or making out)? Though his trip was short, Daniel Ricciardo was spotted by fans with @/yourusername clubbing and karting in Nashville!
↳ fan5 They're following each other again too!! 
↳ brocedes thank god, after losing his seat? I couldn't imagine losing my girl
↳ fan84 i told y'all!! it was nothing
↳ fan243 we better get some good music out of this
_
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A/N: know that if I could, I would make country music themed fics about all the racers.
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redcherrykook · 1 day ago
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────𐙚 inevitable transition (a)
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────୨ৎ────
content: cheater!jungkook
note from cherry: i've spent the past days horribly anxious and with all this nervous energy, i channeled this angsty fic. I hope it hurts in the rightest ways.
────୨ৎ────
Waking up to a silent phone.
Ordinary buzzing of your alarm and sheer nothingness after. The other side of the bed was left empty, touseld, not unusual. He does wake up earlier than you do, does have a tight schedule.
Your phone remained empty.
A routine you had gotten familair with recently.
Your "thinking about you baby" and "I love you my angel" texts have disappeared into thin air. Merged with the chirping of birds that are only audible for the ones who wake up early enough to witness them.
In actuality, they have been transfered to the screen of another.
Her arguably beautiful face lights up in the morning, greeted by his profile picture. Him, him and his doberman. For her, it did not matter when she woke, he'd been there. Left his traces, given security.
You knew this, yet he still kissed you with the same lingering smile, spit the same "love you" when met with your presence.
It had become routine after all, to behave like lovers.
Which explains why, when Jungkook changed his profile photo from him and you sharing a kiss, you did not question it. Brushed over it, like he did every time he came home late.
Until the lights started to give out as well, the apartment he came back to had turned dim. A house, simply that.
Jungkook no longer felt home.
His arms had not lost their strength and yet, an embrace had never felt weaker. A kiss never duller.
It seemed almost too perfect, how he'd put on a show- pretend as though all these miniscule things didn't turn into a portrait of his betrayal, did not hold any weight to them. An accumilation of odd details. If you didn't know better, he seemed close to oblivious.
"You're overthinking it" his voice ringed, filling your ears with a sentence that should have been reassuring, should have put your racing heart at ease, lowered your cortisol.
In contrast, that is far from what it had done to you. It should have been obvious why he started referring to you with your full name, should have been evident why it took him longer to respond, longer to like your posts and even longer to message first.
Well aware of who he was talking to when it showed he is online but your text still read delivered.
It was right before your teary eyes.
The livingroom clock ticks, time will pass recklessly, without control. The minutes will go by anyways.
You grew into the habit of reminiscing times of a near past- you had been his only once. When there had not been another number to dial, a selfie to open, a giggle to share.
Bittnernes from your morning coffee mingled with the question, if that reality ever existed in the first place or if- maybe, he has been awaiting a chance to escape, replace, all along.
'I'm so attached to you'- a simple string of a unkept words that have forgotten their true integrity somewhere along allure and temptation of another. He hadn't meant it, nor could he bare the slight drop in the corner of your diluded smile- one which used to possess the property of igniting a spark inside his chest.
Jungkook's attachment is mirroring a sticker stuck to the back of ones phone, peeling away from continued usage, drained of its color, barely grasping the surface. Simultaneously, it was however, no more than the remainders of its glue that you will never be able to rid yourself of- it would always be part of you.
You have been forgotten before- have blended into the anonymity of a growing circle when on your part, it has only been you two. an us. it would stay that way for you, for as long as your lungs work, as long as your heart pumps.
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atangledfate · 3 days ago
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Sonic's Eyes shifted to Surge the Moment she entered into the room and tensed up a little. They'd already had several moments of being at each others throats today and, some moments of being honest with each other. It did make him nervous but he was hoping that most of it was behind him now. His ears twitch to Kit's comment though his focus was on her and Jewel, well looked like she was a big hero after all. It made him smile a bit, and she was sure Tangle would give her a big thank you at some point.
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" Funny enough i'm sure if asked Silver would jump head first into trying to change it. But i'm of the mind that trying to change the past is massive undertaking. If silvers stories are to be believed... his many attempts to change the past have never really fixed anything... only changed the circumstance. Time doesn't like to be messed with..."
Sonic's ears twitched at Belle talking to him and his head turned to her curious. But clearly now was a bad time to talk about it. Still, he smiled and gave her a nod.
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" Sure Belle, i'll find ya when things cool off and we can have a chat no problem "
He did wonder what she wanted though at Surge's accusation he did sigh knowing this was coming.
" The plan came up and everyone anted to know your intention. But beyond that i kept my lips sealed. Ain't my place to tell him that kinda stuff... and if i coulda danced around it i woulda... so, sorry... if ya wanna knock my head in for it go ahead i won't blame ya "
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Lanolin wasn't sure how she felt about it but, in the end it was a hard decision to make. Certainly not one she was ready to make on her own, and hearing a commotion she moved to the glass window of the upper command deck and smiled seeing Jewel with Surge was a relief and a weight off her shoulders. She gave a glance back to Blaze with a soft smile.
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" Well... looks like that decision may well be out of our hands now. Looks like our director is back in one piece. We should probably join everyone else, and see how Jewel wants to approach this situation... "
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It didn't take Lanolin long to bring Jewel up to speed, it gave Surge some time to talk with Kitsunami, and Lanolin felt better having her back with them. The beetle seemed wildly concerned by what she heard and how to move forward was dicey, but she was rather proud of Lanolin and how she'd handled things in her absence. Though clearly she needed to learn diplomacy--- maybe she could hire someone to help in that area.
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" Alright listen up! we have 15 minutes before this Thawne contacts us... we need to have our stories straight! Lanolin i want you to take Surge up to the office and get a full confession of the events of the attack on the city from her perspective, Kitsunami as well. Sonic i'd like you and Miles to give your full account as well. "
She explained as she took control of the situation as she wanted to resolve things peacefully as she could.
" I do not intend to resort to violence here, we have nothing to hide! so if they wish to look into our affairs and determine we are in fact on the up and up, i don't see that we can refuse them. That said... Kitsunami and Surge are valued members of this organization and i have no intention of treating them any other way. If Thawne wishes to arrest them he'd best make his case... and i intend us to make our own. "
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" As for miss Belle... she has no criminal record so i see no reason to cave to this demand at all! With the evidence we have i have doubts any court could convict Kitsunami either... so we'll call there bluff and see how far they are willing to go! the people are on our side! and i'm confident they'll come to our aid in our time of need! "
Neither Sonic Nor Miles wished to engage in Kitsunami's obvious attempts to bait them into arguing. Honestly it would be impossible to justify it to him. But deep down Sonic was scared of what he'd become if he gave into that urge to kill. It wasn't like he didn't want to or hadn't tried to kill Eggman before. Hell he died once for it even if no one remembered it. It was impossible to explain it to anyone, or deny he didn't want to strangle Eggman. But he made a promise a long time ago--- he couldn't break it. Not to her, of all people she mattered more to him then Kit would know.
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" ... Maybe you are right... Can't change the past though. No point arguing about it. Wish things had been different... but i still believe in Tinker... Belle is proof that ... he could have done so much good. I'm sad it turned out how it did... but if thought i could turn Eggman back into tinker--- I'd do it without hesitation... Even if i did have to risk everything..."
He spoke in a somber Tone, his eyes drifting to Belle knowing deep down what she lost. Part of him felt like maybe it was worth it to give her a chance at life. Even if it ended badly, if he had done things differently who knows what would have become of Belle. The thought didn't sit well with him, and he wanted to see Belle Happy. She deserved it, he owed it to her.
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Miles wasn't sure what to say to the other Fox, he knew how much they'd been hurt by starline. But nothing he could say would mend that bridge. Surge and Kit would always hate them it seemed, even if he wished deep down he could change that. He wanted to be Kit's friend, to share ideas, and help him find his way in life. but he was smart enough to recognize that kind of anger--- was going to need time and distance to mend.
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Lanolin crossed her arms as she listened to Blaze's explanation and reasoning. Though she had this feeling in the tips of her horns that it wasn't a good idea for GUN to get there hands on Starline. In fact she had the total opposite feeling that they should be the ones to deal with him and, they should hide it from GUN. The thought that they might use him to create some crazy army of super powered mobians like Surge and Kitsunami was maddening to her. But it wouldn't be the first time would it?
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" I'm sure you aren't wrong about Starline. The fact GUN would kill to get there paws on him, or the fact it would be good leverage. But i don't think its a good idea for them to know he's alive... "
She explained with a concerned look about her.
" Imagine what GUN would do if they had access to Starline's technology, let alone Starline himself. What monsters would he create with unlimited resources and time... I'd say it would be utter madness for GUN to do that--- But they already did! Shadow was a byproduct of GUN according to what Amy and Miles tells me...."
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" I think... we should hide this from GUN... deal with starline ourselves. I'd rather be safe then risk him falling into GUNs hands...the thought is to frightening to consider "
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sweetcherrybmb · 2 days ago
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Toto Wolff with wife reader. Anniversary gift & celebration for them. With their son, Jack. Up to you how it goes. Fluff and romantic . Thanks!! :))
a/n: considering i didn't have time until now to write, bcause ya know college, i immediately got an idea when i saw the request of how the story should go and wrote it in like two hours, don't think i ever wrote anything so quickly, hope you enjoy it!!<3
SAY CHEESE! //TW\\ one shot
pairing: Toto Wolff x wife!reader
description: Usually, anniversary in the Wolff household are not celebrated, sickness, work or both tend to take up space. Now that they managed to have a peaceful anniversary, they’re going to make the best of it.
word count: 1957 words
warnings: none, the Wolff's being adorable, Toto being a prick (lovingly), a little suggestive
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If it were up to you, you wouldn't wake up today even if you were to be dragged out.
It was your wedding anniversary, a day you always got off. A day to relax with your husband and son. But in the last few years, you didn't get to celebrate. Each year someone had to be sick or work had to be short-staffed.
So now, as you felt the bed next to you dip, a groaned escaped your throat. An arm slowly wrapped around you and lips lightly brushed your neck. Turning around, you were met with your husband's smiling face.
˝Good morning schatzi...˝ he said and pressed a light kiss to your lips.
˝Please, tell me no one is sick...˝ you mumbeled. He laughed.
˝Not this year, love. Although I think Jack is sick of sitting in the kitchen alone, while I'm here waking you up...˝he said and started pressing kisses all over your face. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his waist. ˝Come on, Jack wants to show us something and we both have to be there to see it.˝ he said, pulling you up. You groan in protest.
˝Can't he come in here and show us...˝ you heard Toto laugh as he kept pulling you out of the bed.
˝Get up, schatzi...˝ he softly said as you stood up. He wrapped you in his arms, whispering in your ear. ˝Happy anniversary, love...˝he said, kissing your temple.
˝Happy anniversary to you, too...˝ you whisper, cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a sweet kiss. You felt him hum against your lips, pulling you closer by the hips. The moment was broken by a shrill yell of both your names and you sighed. ˝As much as I love that kid, I sometimes wish we remained child-free...˝ Toto laughed and pulled you closer.
˝Don't say that... You know he's impatient...˝ he smiles into your skin.
˝Like his father...˝ You say, giggling.
˝I'm not denying anything... But, from what I remember, his mother was very impatient to get me to bed on our wedding night... Or any other night, really...˝ he teases and you smack him on the chest.
˝Such atrocities come out of your mouth when you are no different...˝you say, making him laugh. ˝Now, let's go see what our son needs from us, hm?˝ with one last kiss, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen.
The sight you were met with was beautiful. The kitchen island was filled with food and your son sat at the end, practically vibrating with excitement.
˝Mama, papa!!! You're up!!˝ he said, running up to hug you. ˝Happy anniversary, mama!! Papa explained to me this morning why it's important!˝he gushed as he kissed you on the cheek, smiling. You turned your gaze to Toto and were met with a soft expression. ˝Papa and I made breakfast! I helped with the eggs!!˝ he said happily, pulling you towards the counter.
You lifted Jack onto his chair and took your place at the counter. Toto placed a plate in front of you and you smiled at him. The waffles were shaped into hearts, and adorned with wild berries and cinnamon. He winked in your direction and you rolled your eyes.
˝What's the plan for today, hm?˝ you asked, taking a bite of your waffles.
˝I planned a photo shoot and thought we could go to the park a little... Then, your mother is picking Jack up and we are going out for dinner... Made our reservation a few weeks ago...˝ Toto said, sipping his coffee. You smiled. He turned to Jack and smiled at our son. ˝You said you had something to show mama and I something...˝ Our son smiled wide and jumped off his chair. He pulled out a piece of paper from his school bag.
˝SEE! I drew us at school! Here is papa, this is me...And here's mama!˝ he said with a wide, toothy grin. You smiled and lifted him up into your lap.
˝Look at you! You've gotten better at drawing honey. And you even managed to capture daddy's messy hair...˝ you kissed your son's cheek and looked up at your husband. He was smiling and shaking his head.
˝Good job, buddy. And don't listen to mama, she's just jealous of papa's perfect hair.˝ he moved to kiss your son's forehead, wrapping his arms around you both. You laughed at him, leaning up to kiss him. He smiled, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. ˝How about we get ready for our photoshoot, hm?˝
˝I think that's a good idea... You two get dressed while I do my hair and make-up, then I'll get dressed and we can leave.˝ you said, putting Jack down. You gave Toto another kiss and went into the bathroom.
After about an hour, you walked out of the bathroom, wearing one of your favorite dresses and a subtle pair of heels. You could feel Toto checking you out as you finished getting Jack ready.
˝Jack, isn't mama looking absolutely stunning, hm?˝ Toto asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, lightly kissing your neck. Jack nodded vigorously, smiling wide. He laughed at his reaction, before whispering in your ear. ˝Can't wait to have you all to myself tonight...˝
You laugh at his suggestion, swatting at him.
˝Behave yourself... And stop crinkling my dress!˝ Toto smiles and moves away.
˝Ok ok...˝ he mumbles, leaving a light kiss on your neck.
The pictures were perfect—absolutely perfect. Jack's smile blinded anyone who looked at them, and Toto and you looked as gorgeous and in love as always.
After the shoot, the three of you made your way to a fancy brunch place Toto picked out saying: 'It would only be right if we went out and had a little snack while we're dressed up'. It was located in the middle of the park, surrounded by beautiful trees and colorful flowers. Jack got waffles and a hot chocolate, a little treat for being good at school. The two of you had coffee and a piece of cake to share, something you have done ever since your first date. It confused your son as to why you two had to share a piece, to which you smiled and told him 'He'd understand later'.
At home, your mother waited for you to return. She made herself coffee, took some of the waffles from the morning, and turned on her favorite show to watch.
˝I see you made yourself right at home, hm?˝ you giggle as the older woman turns to you. She smiled and stood up, hugging you once she came close enough.
˝Of course I did. Happy anniversary, my sweet girl... And you too, Toto...˝ she hugged Toto as well. She turned to Jack who ran into her arms. ˝And my handsome young man! How've you been, Jackie, hm?˝ your son giggled and hugged her, starting to ramble on about school and new kids he met. As he spoke, your mother subtly moved to the front door, winked at you, and left without a word.
˝So? Are you going to get ready for dinner?˝Toto asked and you looked down at your dress. He smiled. ˝I would suggest you change into that pretty red dress I got you to wear recently... It'll be more fitting...˝ he moved closer to you, grabbing your hips and kissing your neck. You hummed and raked your fingers through his hair.
˝I will if you let me go...˝ he chuckled at you and let go of his tight grip on your hips, letting his hands linger. You smile, making your way to get ready for the second time that day.
A little while later you walked out, red carpet ready. The wine red dress, black heels and sharp makeup... Toto was stunned. He knew you'd look gorgeous, but this was... Something extraordinary.
˝Mein Gott, schatzi... I don't even want to go out now...˝ he said, awe struck. You giggle and walked over to him. He grabbed your waist and smiled down. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you get on your tip toes and kiss him, his hands sliding down to your ass. You gasp, smacking his chest.
˝Toto!˝you say and move away from him. He huffs and smiles at you, grabbing both your coats. You stand with our back to him as he helped you get the coat on. Making your way to the car, Toto held the door open for you as you stepped into the Mercedes.
At the restaurant, he reserved a table in the corner of the balcony, looking over the vineyard. The candles on the table glowed romantically, casting a warm light onto your faces. Toto smiled warmly as you looked on over the railing.
˝Enjoying the view, love?˝ he asked softly, a hand coming closer to rest on yours gently. You turn your head to him and smile.
˝Yeah... I don't remember the last time we had any time just for us... Or the last time we celebrated our anniversary...˝ you answered and Toto laughed.
˝Remember when we did this once a week?˝ he asked and you laughed, tilting your head down.
˝Yeah... Can't believe that we came down to going on dates once in a blue moon... But I'm happy...˝ You say, smiling softly. Toto brings your hand up to his lips, leaving a soft kiss just as the waiter came with your wine. You giggled and thanked the waiter. ˝I love you, Toto...˝
˝I love you too, schatzi...˝ he smiled and kissed your hand once again. You smiled at him as well, moving your hand to cup his face.
The two of you spent the evening feeling more relaxed than ever, finally having a moment to properly talk. Everything was the topic. Work, friends, annoying family members... After dinner, you went out for a walk.
˝You know what this reminds me of Toto? Our first date...˝ you reminisce and giggle. Toto's laugh rings out, his head thrown back.
˝Mein Gott, I completely forgot what happened that night...˝ he whispered. He looked over at you and his eyes went wide. You giggled at him, seeing his reaction.
˝I was waiting to see if you would spill wine on my dress again... The red dress, vineyard date, a walk in the part after... trademark Wolff date... I didn't want to say anything to see if you'd realize... Seems you ARE getting old...˝ you laugh and stand in front of him, still holding his hand. He gasps and starts laughing.
“You are only 4 years younger than me, that makes you old as well!” Toto said, making you laugh.
The two of you soon reached the pond in the parks centre. The moon’s reflection shimmered on the waters surface, the air was crisp and the crickets created a subtle noise in the background. You shivered and Toto immediately wrapped his suit jacket around you.
“Can’t have you catching a cold now, hm?” He said, kissing your head. You smiled and shuffled closer into his side.
Your brows furrowed as you felt something hard press into your waist. You backed away and put your hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a velvet box. You looked up, only to be met with your husband, smirking down at you.
“Open it, schatzi…” he said quietly. Your manicured fingers fiddled with the little latch and as the box opened, it revealed a beautiful silver necklace with light green gems.
“Toto…” you whispered and felt his arms wrap around you.
“Happy anniversary, my love…” he whispered back and lightly placed his lips on yours, capturing you in a gentle and loving kiss.
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novvabee · 2 days ago
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hi bby! saw you asked for some poly!jegulily.
self-indulgent request of ravenclaw!reader and regulus going absolutely ham at a bookstore while James and Lily watch in mild bewilderment. maybe they hit up Honeydukes after for some reading snacks and have a cozy (or spicy) night in.
hope things get easier soon lovely! <3
(I love you so much you don't even know) anyways... I really tried to write cheesy smut at the beginning but I could not for the life of me do it. I did change it slightly, because I believe my girl Lily would indulge in a few books as well but here you are my love!!!
The Bookstore
summary: poly!jegulily x reader, James spoils his lovers with their favorite things: books and butterbeer.
word count: 2.1k
cw: suggestiveness, cheesy smut at the beginning (nothing really happens), taking advantage of wealthy-ass James Potter, mostly fluff
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I felt his breath on my neck. So close yet not close enough, never close enough.
“Hello, my darling,” he whispered in my ear, my skin prickling as he placed his lips on my neck, kissing his way down my body.
He reached the apex between my bare thighs and smiled up at me before-
“Hello love!” James sang, walking into your bedroom, Regulus and Lily entering after him. You slammed your book shut, trying your best to compose yourself and not look too suspicious. 
“Hi,” you chirped, pulling the closed book closer to your chest to hide the cover just in case. Lily gave you a questioning look that turned into something like understanding.
“You look a little flushed, love. You feeling alright?,” Regulus asked, touching your cheek and forehead to feel your temperature before kissing the top of your head.
Lily smirked at you but said nothing, knowing exactly what you were reading only a moment ago. “Yeah, feel fine. Just a little warm is all.” you replied. 
Regulus smiled down at you from where he stood. “Well that’s perfect then, we’re going outside for a walk anyways. Cool air will be good for you.” You returned his smile, but he could read the confusion on your face. “James has a surprise for all of us.” He explained.
You turned your attention to where James stood, smiling giddily. He didn’t say anything, just wiggled his eyebrows and waited for you to get appropriately dressed. You were in comfy lounging clothes, as it was a Saturday afternoon, and if you were going out on a walk, you’d need to dress for the cool spring air. 
You set your book down where you were sitting, facedown of course, and headed toward your dresser. You pulled out some jeans and a long sleeve top, dressing quickly, wanting to see what James’s surprise was. You pulled open your sock drawer and picked a warm pair, pulling them onto your bare feet before padding back over to where your lovers were. 
James and Regulus picked up a conversation about how the Hufflepuff quidditch team was fairing this season. They were arguing about which team would beat them and which seeker or chaser was better than the badger’s. You tuned them out as you looked for your shoes. 
It was then that you noticed Lily with your book in her lap, looking over the cover and synopsis on the back. Your eyes widened and you stopped your search. You could see the smirk across Lily’s face. She looked you dead in the eye and winked. You shook your head at her as if to say ‘tell no one’. She just continued on smirking. 
She of course knew what you were reading, in fact, you had lent her one of your romantasy books a few weeks back and she flew through it. She came to your room the next morning to ask for another and to discuss the one she had read. You both giggled and gossiped about how good it was, the main character, the spice…
You shook your head, trying to dispel the memory and picked up a pair of shoes you could wear on a walk around Scotland, ones you were alright with getting muddy, should the paths be wet from all the spring rains. 
James handed you one of your favorite jackets and you all set off. You asked them about their mornings, how quidditch practice went for the boys, how Lily did on one of her papers, remedial and small things. The air was cool, but getting warmer every day. You walked hand in hand with Regulus, James and Lily doing the same behind you two.
“So James,” you called over your shoulder to him once you had rounded the Black Lake, “What exactly do you have planned?”
You couldn’t see the smile on his face, but you could hear it as he said, “Well, I just thought that you three deserved a little treat.”
“A little treat?” Lily echoed.
“Yeah, you three have been working hard all semester… I just wanted to spoil you a little.” James said.
“Mmh,” Regulus hummed from beside you, “Spoil us how?”
“By taking you to the bookstore of course.” James said. Making you stop dead in your tracks and whip around to where he was standing, making him almost topple over you in the process.
“The bookstore?” you asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, all three of you like reading, I don’t understand why,” he said, Lily lightly nudging him with an elbow to the ribs. Both of them giggled as he continued, “so it’s my treat.”
“You’ll buy me a book?” you asked, trying to get an understanding of what he was playing at.
“I’ll buy you whatever you want. If that means one book or twenty or a hardback collection. I just wanna make you all happy.” he smiled down at you, placing a quick peck to your lips. 
You blinked up at him. Did he realize how much twenty books would cost? How much a hardback collection would cost? The special edition series that you had your eye on?
James could see your hesitation, he spun you back around and slung his arm across your shoulders. “C’mon baby, you’ve had your nose in a book for months, I know you want a couple more.” he said with a tease lacing his tone. 
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t make me sound like such a swot,” you defended yourself. “It’s not like they’re textbooks.”
“Well what kind of books are they then?” Regulus asked. You almost stopped in your tracks again. “You never put them down, spending all your free time reading but never telling any of us what they are about.”
You tried not to allow your cheeks to heat as you thought quickly for a response. 
“Are they mysteries? Science fiction? Romance?” James asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Lily giggled from beside him. Your eyes shot to Lily. You tried to signal to her to keep quiet, but it was no use, she only returned that mischievous smirk to you. 
“Well Jamsie,” Lily started, “Remember that book that you picked up last week?”
James furrowed his brows, turning his whole attention to Lily. “Yes, how could I forget, it had fallen on the floor and I picked it up and caught a glimpse of it. The thing was filthy.”
Lily again giggled as she only looked pointedly at you. You couldn’t stop the heat that rose to your cheeks now. James looked from Lily to you, between both his girls before coming to the realization of what Lily was saying.
“What, no.” James said, “There’s no way that is what you’ve been reading all this time.”
Regulus seemed to have caught on as well and only chuckled alongside Lily.
“Oh there is a way,” Lily giggled. “She’s the one who lent me the book. It was from her personal library.” 
“Lily!” you shouted, partly in embarrassment and partly because you could no longer fool the boys into asking for a peaceful reading night alone now. “We were supposed to stick together on this one, you can’t just throw me under the bus!”
The boys stared at you, baffled, the whole group now halting just outside of Hogsmeade.
“Aww,” Regulus cooed, “our filthy girl.” He finished, slinging his arm around you and guiding you into town.
“Hey! Lily was reading them too!” you countered.
“What, are we not enough for you anymore Y/N?” James laughed. “Didn't take you to be so greedy.” James and Lily again filed in behind you and Regulus to make your way down the road to the bookstore. “All you’d have to do is ask and we would-”
“James!” You cut him off before he could say anything… revealing out in public. The last thing you needed was your lover blabbing about your bedroom activities for all of Hogsmeade to hear.
You were met with light chuckles, lucky for you they were all willing to drop the subject for now.
You four made your way through the winding roads of the town, past the sweets shop, past the clothing store. 
You found your group outside the small store filled floor to magically raised ceiling with books, books, books. Any kind of book you could imagine, this store had it. The building was expanded on the inside to hold all the books and tomes, the storefront seeming like a small building on the outside, but on the inside a warehouse.
You all entered, James reminding you all to go crazy, he was buying. With that you gave him a peck on the cheek and made your way to the sections that interested you. You watched Regulus head in the direction of the mysteries, Lily making her way to the magic non-fiction section.
You of course picked out that limited edition series that you had wanted for quite some time, as well as a few books that looked interesting to you. In total you had ten books in your arms, struggling to keep them all upright and not on the ground.
James gave you a slight smile from across the store. He made his way over to you, lightening your load by taking all the books in his arms instead. You smiled up at him as you both made your way to the register.
“Thanks,” you said softly to him. 
“Of course my love,” he answered, setting the books on the counter to pay for them, smiling at the lady behind the register.
“Um James,” you started as the books levitated over a scanner and into a bag. His attention turned to you as you continued, “I just want you to be prepared, you do realize how much books cost right?”
James chuckled from beside you. “Love,” he said sweetly, “How many times do I have to say I just want to spoil you?” 
You really wanted to enlighten him, you did. This limited edition series was not going to be cheap, and neither were the other books you had picked out, and you weren’t the only one he was treating. You glanced around him to see the four large tomes that Lily had picked out and the three hardbacks that Regulus was holding. You smirked to yourself, James was about to receive a rude awakening. But he insisted and he was, after all, loaded.
You stood and watched James’s face as the total amount kept growing, and growing, and growing. Each book scanned, his smile waned.
You hated seeing James realize this harsh truth, but that didn’t stop you and Reggie giggling as James huffed and swiped his card after hearing the final price of the seventeen books. 
All four of you exited the store, Regulus and Lily holding the bags of books, James with his head hanging a little lower. You laughed as you took his hand in yours and led him down the road.
“I tried to warn you, love,” you said softly to him.
He brushed off his sulk quickly and smiled down at you, bringing your joint hands up to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I wanted to spoil you and I did.” You both continued walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, hand in hand, as Reggie and Lily led your group towards The Three Broomsticks for some butterbeer and snacks. “But maybe you all could develop a less expensive hobby,” he joked.
You decided then that you would save up for his birthday to return the favor, possibly buy some expensive quidditch gear for him.
As the day progressed, it had gotten much colder, the warming spring air dispersing as the sun went down.
You leaned in closer to him as the four of you made your way into the noisy pub. Lily found you all a booth near the back and you filed in next to her, Regulus across from you and James off to order you all something to drink. 
After some time, James appeared with four butterbeers in hand, two with whipped cream on top for you and Lily.
You smiled as you took a swig, yet another treat from James.
As he sat and cozied up next to Reggie, he asked about the books you had all picked out. Lily told you all about the tomes she had picked, how she wanted to study up on pixies and nymphs for personal research, and Regulus picked out a couple muggle mystery books he thought sounded interesting.
Their attention then turned to you as you said “My favorite author released a limited edition set of her series, so I just had to get it.” 
“And what is this series about, hmm?” James teased. You just rolled your eyes in response.
“You know,” Regulus said, setting down his butterbeer. “We could always recreate one of those filthy books with you, Y/N.”
“Regulus!” you shouted, curing into Lily’s side out embarrassment, but smiling all the same.
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ok, it took so long to write this but this is such a cutie idea!!! for research, i looked up how much 17 books would cost and... James Potter is rich rich. thanks to @agreeeeeeeeeee for the ask ❤️ go read her stuff she is literally amazing!
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maxispixels · 2 days ago
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HANDPICKED
PART SIX.
Hobie Brown x GN!Reader
2.2k words
You work at a flower shop in late 70s London and Hobie's being a menace. Slowburn? Probably will be around 10 parts. Strangers to reluctant acquaintances to friends to something more. Maybe a lil' messy?
Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four. Part five. Part six. Part seven. Part eight.
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For the next few days, he showed up just the same, lounging behind the counter, making fun of the customers once they’d left. You could only feign annoyance for so long before the genuine giggles started slipping out. You hated how easy it was for him to make you laugh.
Sometimes, when Rose came by to check on the business or take what’s in the till, he’d disappear in the back or crouch behind the counter like a kid hiding from a parent. You were sure she wouldn’t mind him being there as long as he wasn’t causing trouble, but it amused him to sneak around, so you let him.
He stayed like that for days.
One evening though, he left earlier than usual, and the next day, he didn’t show up.
It had been more than a week, and you were excessively worried. At first, you tried not to dwell on it. He was probably just busy, he had a life outside of the flower shop. You realized how little you knew about his life. You had opened up a bunch about your background, filling up silences and empty hours between customers with personal stories and anecdotes, but he never did the same. As days passed, your worry grew.
Had you done something wrong? Said something out of place? Or worse, did something happen to him?
The weather fitted your mood, colder and gloomier. The shop felt strangely empty without him lounging somewhere and tossing quips your way. You missed the banter more than you wanted to admit. The hours felt longer, and you wondered how you kept busy before he barged into this place, into your life.
After a while, you found yourself staring at the corner he usually sat, his long legs folded in uncomfortable angles, your thoughts drifting back to the way he’d grinned while explaining pirate radios. He’d practically lit up, gesturing with his hands as he explained how it worked.
“It’s not that hard,” he’d said, gesturing like a mad scientist. “You just nick a frequency modulation emulator, rig up an amplifier, and boom, you’re coverin’ half of London.”
You remembered blinking at him in a mix of confusion and awe. “People really do that?”
“All the time.” He smirked. “Use your loaf, mate. T’s not rocket science.”
The memory made you smile briefly before your chest tightened again. Damn him and damn you for growing attached so easily. 
You were starting to feel sick too, the cold having that effect on you. You hoped it was just that, a cold, and not the flu.
When Rose visited, she caught how unwell you seemed. You weren’t good at hiding much of anything, and you spilled the beans. Told her how he came by to say hi regularly, how you hadn’t seen him in a while. 
“I didn’t mean— I meant you look like you have a fever. I was just talking about your cold.” Rose told you with raised eyebrows, marking her wrinkles deeper. 
You looked to the side, embarrassed. “Oh…”
“I mean, that does answer my question. You should go home and rest, I don’t want you to give the flu to my customers.” Her tone was scolding, but you felt the underlying care.
“But—”
“No but. You go, drink soup, and sleep. And don’t come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. Not until you’re back on your feet. I can take care of the shop meanwhile.”
There was no arguing with Rose, you knew she wouldn't let you. Your eyes fell to the ground. What if he came by while you weren’t around? You rolled the tip of your foot, before nodding. “Alright. Alright.” You muttered, grabbing your belongings and heading out, before she could fuss more about your health.
You regretted listening to her almost immediately. The boredom was killing you, and being sick only made it worse. Anxious and feverish, you tuned into one of the pirate stations Hobie had taught you about. Punk music blasted in your flat—at a low volume, because the last thing you needed was to annoy your neighbors. The guitar riffs and energetic basslines kept your mind a tiny bit sharper, more awake.
Still, the days dragged on. You weren’t even sure what day it was anymore. You guessed two or three had passed, but between sleeping, coughing, and scrambling for dinner, everything blurred together. 
When someone knocked at your door, you didn’t think much of it. Probably Rose, bringing soup or more scolding. “Coming,” you croaked, dragging your sore form to the door. Thankfully, it wasn’t far considering your tiny flat forced your bed next to the entryway.
Your heart jumped into your throat when you saw his face—smug as ever, like he’d never been gone at all. Relief fought with irritation, and you didn’t know which would win. He had a really self-satisfied smirk as he heard the rugged vocals coming from your small radio.
“Either I got ya to like it, or you really miss me, or both.” 
You just stared at him like a fish out of water. You eventually rubbed your eyes, making sure this wasn’t a fever dream, still holding your blanket over your shoulders.
“Are ya goin’ to let me in or..?” 
You slowly pushed yourself out of the way.
“Nice place you got ‘ere. cosy, I like it. Smells like old linen and regret though. Oh, wait, that’s just you.”
You groaned. You couldn’t believe his sheer audacity, disappearing for days, only to show up in your home, and tease you. You sat back on the bed, and that’s when you noticed he was carrying stuff with him.
“I came to the shop and asked for ya. Rose told me to give you this so she wouldn’t have to come there herself. I felt like lil’ red hood, carrying goods to grandmother.”
“I can’t believe she sent you to my apartment. Doesn’t she know you’re—”
“A menace to society? Yeah, I think she mentioned it.”
“I was going to say annoying but I guess both work.” You tried really hard to make yourself sound annoyed, but the fondness seeped through your voice regardless.
“Careful, love. I’ve got soup, an’ I’m not afraid to spill it.”
“It smells like something she’s been reheating since 1940…”
“Oi don’t be dramatic. It’s only from last week. Adds flavors.”
A rough giggle slipped from your throat. He put the soup on the small counter and sat down next to you.
“You really look terrible though.”
“You too.” You mumbled, tucking your knees under your chin, wrapping the blanket tighter. “Where have you been?” You found yourself asking before you could think, your brain all fuzzy. 
“Busy,” he said, before grabbing another blanket from your bed and carefully throwing it on your shoulders. “You know, overthrowing the government and all at.”
You rolled your eyes. You hated how casual he was about all of that, but it was how he always was. He shuffled the top of your head. “Were you worried? Bet ya were thinking ‘bout me.” 
You felt your cheeks heat up, probably your fever spiking at his annoyingness. 
He stood up, and you felt the mattress move as his weight was removed. You let your body fall to the side, all curled up against your pillow. He only needed two steps to cross your tiny kitchen. He picked up the soup container and poured it in your old pot. He turned on the gas and let the soup heat up. 
You watched him from the bed, your eyes following his movements, the way he scratched his hip or shifted his weight on his legs as he waited for the soup to warm up. It felt strangely domestic. You didn’t even feel embarrassed about the mess, and it felt like he had been there a hundred times before, naturally striding across your space. Not that he could get lost in the two rooms.
“Here you go.” He put the soup on your nightstand. You started to eat it, blowing on each spoonful. 
“It’s not even that hot.” He chuckled, shamelessly making fun of you.
You pouted at him, which only seemed to amuse him more. “Yer actin’ like a child.”
“That’s it, I’m ignoring you when you’re mean.”
“And when I’m nice?”
“Then I won't ignore you.”
“Oh, I see how it is. Yer like Santa now, keepin’ a naughty and nice list.” He folded his arms, pretending to sulk. “Didn’t know I had to pass a bloody personality test just to talk to ya.”
“Well, you’re failing so far,” you shot back, trying to hide your grin as you stirred the soup.
He leaned forward, his piercings catching the dim light, and your stomach did a small flip. “What do I gotta do, then? I think I’ve done it all. Brought you flowers, soup, knowledge, entertainment—all for free.”
You set your spoon down in the bowl, turning to face him properly. His grin stayed in place, but his eyes softened, almost curious.
“I’m really thankful, you know.” The words escaped before you could stop them, and you could only hope you wouldn’t make yourself sound ridiculous. Not that it mattered—he’d already caught on.
“I was really worried when you stopped showing up,” you admitted, the words tumbling out faster now. “Thought something might’ve happened to you. What I mean is…” You paused, searching for the right phrase. “Yeah, I’m thankful. It’s nice to… have you around.”
For once, he seemed caught off guard. He pinched his lips together briefly, then smirked. “Got me there. Almost thought you’d say something else ‘ere.”
You tilted her head. “Oh, right, I’m sorry, too. I guess I was the mean one most of the time…”
His grin widened as he leaned back. “Not that either, but I’ll take it. Besides, I like it when you’re mean and feisty. It’s fun. Your face is hilarious when you glare at me.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, which only amused him more. 
“So, erm, you really like the music?” he asked again, the radio still playing aggressive punk riffs that didn’t match the mood that was setting in. “Or is it just ‘cause you missed me? Again, I’m fine with both, be ‘onest.” His grin morphed into a smirk. You had the power to either let him geek out about music for a while or watch him tease you until you couldn’t look him in the eyes again. Naturally, you went with the music.
“I guess my ears got accustomed to the sound. At some point, it stopped being noise.” You shrugged.
“It was never noise! It’s music. You’re tough to please, there’s some nice melodies out there, y’know?” 
“You should show ‘em to me.” You offered, earnest.
It caught him off guard for a second. “You’d wanna?”
“Yeah.” 
“...I’ll get you to listen to some good stuff sometime then. Maybe even play ya somethin. If you’re nice.”
“You play?”
“Cm’on, I told you that before.” Your lips pressed together. Probably one of those times you stared at his face instead of listening to what he was saying.
For a few moments, there was silence. The only sound was the low buzz of the radio, and the gentle clink of the spoon against the side of your bowl. Hobie sat back on the bed, his foot tapping the ground rhythmically, his gaze soft. 
You leaned your head back against the wall, but your eyes stayed on him, trailing across his piercings again. You had come to know the planes of his face by heart. You wanted to reach for him, but you didn’t dare break the comfortable bubble that formed around you. 
After a while, you couldn’t resist. “Can you c'mere?” 
He didn’t question you, shifting across the bed to be next to you, his attention now turned to you. “Yeah?”
You scouted closer, maneuvering through the tangled mess of blankets around you. 
You hesitated for a moment. Would it be too weird, or awkward? But he was just sitting there and…
“Can I touch your face?” The words left your lips hesitantly.
He sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together. “Not what I expected. You tryin’ to keep me on my toes or som’thin?” 
You tilted your head. “What?”
“Nothin’. Touch my face, if that makes you happy.”
You reached for his cheeks with your warm hands. His skin felt soft, he was clean shaved. Or maybe he didn’t grow a beard yet. Your thumbs traced his cheekbones with curiosity, before going back down to the angle of his jaws, narrow yet sharp. You were getting completely lost in his features, which you had admired for so long. 
He gazed down at you. You swore there was something in his eyes, and you couldn’t figure out what. Affection, maybe, confusion, probably.
You let your fingers trace up his brow bones, careful to avoid his piercings. You gently rubbed the wrinkles on his forehead, smoothing them. “You’re all tense.”
“Damn Sherlock, I wonder why.”
“Why?”
“You’re impossible.”
You were too focused on his face to care. When your fingers got too close to his lips, you noticed his breath hitch, before he gently grabbed your wrists and pushed your hands away from his face. Everything paused for a second, he squeezed your wrists lightly, before letting them go.
“Careful or I’ll bite ‘em pretty fingers off.”
You looked at him for a second, everything felt really heavy, and you weren’t sure if he was joking or not. You let out an awkward giggle, before the tension eased again. This fever really made you do weird things...
What the hell just happened?
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Part seven.
Me just making a collage of all of the tropes I like and calling it a plot
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moutainrusing · 19 hours ago
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jealous
768 words, james x remus
“It’s betrayal!” James cried, absolutely outraged as he paced the dormitory, hands running furiously through the mess of his hair. “Remus should be here with us! He’s our Moony! Instead, he’s cuddling up to Evans! Evans! She doesn’t even know him! I know him! He and Evans aren’t right for each other! Remus is right with the Marauders!” He turned to Sirius and Peter expectantly, raising his eyebrows and gesturing for them to agree with him.
“Um. Yeah,” Peter nodded nervously, as if afraid James might hit him with his wildly gesticulating hands. James scoffed at that, because yes, he wanted to hit something, but he wouldn’t actually. The only person he felt tempted to hit was Remus, who was down there enjoying being attached by the hip to Evans, and that was the reason James wanted to hit him in the first place, so if Remus would stop doing that, then James would hug him like the friends that they were.
They were the Marauders! Remus should be with them.
James voiced all of this, and Sirius burst out laughing.
“What is so funny?!” he glared. “This is another betrayal! Sirius! Marauders agree with each other!”
“Mate, I do agree with you,” Sirius chuckled placatingly. “I think Remus should be with you too.”
“Good!” James pointed, ranting once more. “Marauders stick together! Remus should pay for this! I can’t believe him! I know Evans is attractive, and yeah, I want to go out with her too, but Marauders come first!”
Sirius squinted at him. “You want to go out with Evans?”
“Well, yeah,” James deadpanned. “‘Course I do. She’s fit, right?” he checked with Sirius, who shrugged concedingly. Thoughtfully, he added, “It explains why I want to rip Remus’s hand off of her whenever he touches her. I mean, why is he touching her?! He should be with us! He doesn’t need to hug her when I give him the best hugs ever! He can just ask me! Why isn’t he asking me?!”
Sirius tilted his head. “He does ask you.”
“Oh!” James grinned. “He does! I give the best post-moon cuddles,” he placed a hand on his heart smugly. “He always comes to me for them.” Dropping his hand, he frowned suddenly, “But now he’s going to Evans! He knows I’ve been asking her out for years! Doesn’t he care about me? Why doesn’t he care about me?”
Quietly, Peter inputted, “He does care about you.”
“Well,” James huffed. “He doesn’t show it very well. Hanging off the arm of the bird I fancy. How is that caring about his best mate’s feelings? I want to date Evans. Now she’s getting caught up in Remus’s charm! His charm is only for us! It’s special! It should be treasured! Evans wouldn’t treasure it as much as I do.”
Sirius and Peter shared a glance. While Sirius shook his head at him, Peter cleared his throat hesitantly, “How would you treasure Remus?”
Ignoring Sirius’s groan, James swivelled to scowl at Peter, “What do you mean how would I treasure him?! I already treasure him! I hold him right here,” James jabbed his heart. “He’s my friend, and I give him everything. I was the one to befriend him first, wasn’t I? Because I saw he was innocently clever. I saw it in the corners of his smile, and I saw in the light of his eyes that something glowed inside of him while everyone else ignored it! I saw that he was a devious mastermind and I saw that he was as mean as he was kind and I still see it every day because he’s everything. And—”
“This is too much,” Sirius interrupted loudly, eyeing Peter and muttering, “Why.”
Peter smiled at him sweetly. “Because it’s cute, don’t you think?”
Sirius slammed his hands down forcefully, and turned to James. “This is too much.”
James was very confused. “What is?”
“You don’t fancy Evans!” Sirius yelled.
James stumbled back from the sheer volume of it. He looked to Peter for some explanation, except Peter was leaning back on his pillow as if watching some soap opera.
“Um. I do,” James replied.
“Then why do you call her Evans?!” Sirius demanded.
“Well… we’re not that close yet. It’s… our thing,” James pursed his lips, pondering over his reasons.
“You don’t have a thing with her! Her name is Lily, and I bet you didn’t know that,” Sirius fumed.
James bit his lip. He hadn’t known that.
Sirius took one look at him and burst out laughing once again. “You’re not jealous of Remus, mate. You’re jealous of Evans.”
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thequeenofcurses · 2 days ago
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Where You Left Me (part 2) wk: 1900
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“We made it, lads!” Sora doesn’t look back at you or Sukuna when he reaches the gate first. “We're dead close to the camp, 'bout ten minutes away,” He lifts the bottom of the broken fence, slides his backpack through, and crawls in right after.
Sukuna scoffs. Of course, he’d rush in without even checking if we were alright. Asshole.
“You first,” Sukuna says, tilting his head toward the fence.
You crouch, lifting the fence and sliding your bag through. But as you glance back at him, you notice his sharp gaze darting across the shadows, his body taut like a coiled spring.
“I’m going to double back,” he mutters, eyes narrowing as he scans the path you came from. “Make sure we weren’t followed.”
Your head snaps toward him, panic clawing at your chest. “Alone? Are you insane? What if—”
“Relax,” he cuts you off with a dismissive wave, though his tone carries a surprising edge of calm. “I’ll be fine. I’m not some idiot who’ll trip and get myself eaten.”
You shake your head, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I should go with you. We’re supposed to watch each other’s backs, remember?”
Sukuna’s lips curve into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And leave him alone?” He jerks his chin toward the gate where Sora had disappeared. “Bet he’d last all of five seconds before screaming his head off.”
You hesitate, torn between his logic and the unease twisting in your gut. The fence groans faintly under your grip, the sound too loud in the unsettling quiet. “Sukuna, please. Just—”
“Stop worrying so much,” he says, his voice softer now, though his eyes remain hard. “I’ll be back before you know it. “Stay put. Watch the fence. And don’t let that idiot do anything stupid.”
He doesn’t wait for your reply, turning on his heel and vanishing into the darkness before you can argue further. The cold air bites at your skin as you stare after him, unease settling like a heavy stone in your chest.
Your heart ached watching him leave. Memories filled your mind from when you first got paired with Sukuna.
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The day you arrived you were covered in filth and blood that wasn’t your own. Your last partner sacrificed themself to get you here. As did every other person you’ve ever traveled with. It truly felt like the universe cursed you. No matter what group you joined up with, they always ended up dead, and you always ended up alone. 
You had hope that changed the moment you joined this current group. But alas, the universe had other plans in store for you.
“We have a buddy system in place here,” the leader, Hunter, explained to you. “So you’ll never have to be alone.” He gave you a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. The thought should’ve been a welcoming one, but your body tensed uncomfortably. 
“I don’t think that’s a good idea…” you started. You probably should keep this to yourself, but the words spilled from your mouth. “People close to me always get bit or hurt somehow. I don’t want to get anyone here killed.”
Hunter took a step back at your confession. He patted your head and tried to sound hopeful. “Don’t worry, we’ve been surviving here for a long time. I’m sure we can find you a good buddy.”
It was four days later when a new survivor appeared at the entrance to the camp. He was a tall man wearing cargo pants, combat boots, a brown shirt, and a tattered red scarf. His hair looked drenched in sweat, or maybe that was dried blood. From what you could see his face had black tattoos that covered his temple down to his chin. They were sort of beautiful, amidst all his dirt and grime.
Hunter met the man and accepted him into the community once he realized the man could fight, help with scouting missions, or anything else necessary. Almost immediately, this man was assigned to you as your buddy. You wondered if it was because no one else wanted to risk being your partner or because this man could probably handle anything that came your way. It’s probably both.
You find out from Hunter that the new mysterious man is named Sukuna. He wasn’t much for talking, but that was fine. As long as he kept you both safe and alive, that was all you cared about. 
One thing Hunter forgot to mention was that buddy’s room together. Your small makeshift house in the camp – which was actually just a tent in the back of an abandoned grocery market. The tent was surprisingly spacious and could easily fit four to five people comfortably. Thankfully, there were enough tents to go around where everyone only had to share with one other person, aside from families with children. 
That night, you stay in your corner of the tent, while Sukuna lays on the opposite end, staring at the ceiling. Is this guy ever going to sleep? You don’t let your curious thoughts bother you and let sleep consume you.
The next morning, your body wakes you up at your usual time to get your typical duties done. You stretch silently, so as to not wake up your new roommate, then roll over. When you stand, your eyes notice that tattered red scarf in his hands. He must’ve fallen asleep holding it. You gently grab the laundry basket and gently pull on the scarf. Big mistake.
“What the fuck are you doing,” he spat. You stumbled backward in fear, not knowing he was awake.
Sukuna’s glare was sharp enough to cut through steel, his fingers tightening around the red fabric as if you’d tried to steal a piece of his soul.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze despite the chill creeping up your spine. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said carefully, keeping your voice steady. “It’s just… it looked important, and I thought you’d want it cleaned.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared at you with those piercing crimson eyes, his grip still firm on the scarf. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.
Then, just as suddenly as his outburst came, Sukuna let out a slow, controlled breath and loosened his hold. “Tch.” He turned away, stuffing the scarf into his pack like it was something sacred. “Don’t touch my shit unless I tell you to.”
You nodded quickly, not wanting to push him further. “Got it.”
The tension still hung in the air, but you sensed something beneath his anger—something raw, unspoken. A wound, perhaps, tied to that ragged scarf. But asking about it now would only make things worse.
Instead, you picked up the laundry basket again, gripping it a little tighter than before. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Sukuna didn’t acknowledge you, just laid back down, one arm behind his head, eyes once again fixed on the tent’s ceiling.
As you stepped out, the morning sun barely peeking over the horizon, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. The man you’d been paired with was a mystery—one wrapped in sharp edges and hidden scars.
But if you were going to survive together, you’d have to find a way to navigate them.
You returned later that morning, your arms aching from carrying the laundry back to camp. As you approached the tent, you hesitated at the entrance, unsure if Sukuna was still upset.
Pushing aside the flap, you found him sitting cross-legged, his red scarf now wrapped loosely around his neck. He didn’t look up, but his sharp voice cut through the air. “You always this nosy, or was I just lucky enough to get the curious one?”
You bit your lip, resisting the urge to snap back. “I told you I didn’t mean anything by it.”
This time, his gaze lifted to meet yours, and the faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got guts. Most people wouldn’t stick around after pissing me off.”
“I don’t exactly have a choice, do I?” you shot back, surprising even yourself with your tone.
Sukuna tilted his head, clearly amused. “Fair enough.” He stood abruptly, the scarf shifting slightly as he stretched. “Come on.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You and I are on patrol duty today,” he said, already heading toward the tent’s entrance. “Unless you’d rather stay here and babysit the camp.”
You groaned inwardly. Patrol duty was one of the most dangerous tasks—wandering the outskirts of camp, checking for any threats, zombie hordes, or looters. And now you were stuck doing it with him.
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The trees around the camp loomed tall and dark, their skeletal branches casting jagged shadows on the dirt path. You kept your knife close, your eyes darting nervously between the underbrush.
Sukuna walked ahead of you, his long strides confident and unbothered. He held a machete in one hand, swinging it lazily at the tall grass as if the threat of the undead didn’t faze him.
“Do you always have to walk like you own the place?” you muttered, your nerves getting the better of you.
Sukuna glanced back over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Would you rather I skulk around like you? Might as well put up a sign that says ‘free meal.’”
You scowled. “I’m being cautious. You should try it sometime.”
He snorted. “Cautious doesn’t keep you alive out here. Being two steps ahead does.”
“Is that why you’re so... charming?” you shot back, gripping your knife tighter.
Sukuna stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. “Charming enough to still be here. Can’t say the same for the people you’ve lost.”
The words hit like a slap, and your breath caught. “You don’t know anything about that.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer, his expression darkening. “But I know the look of someone who’s been running from ghosts. How long are you gonna blame yourself before you realize this world doesn’t give a shit about your guilt?”
You stood frozen, his words cutting deep. But before you could respond, the sound of rustling bushes snapped both your attention to the side.
Sukuna raised his machete, his entire body tensing in a way that was almost predatory. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice low and firm.
Your pulse quickened as the rustling grew louder. A shadow moved in the underbrush, and then—
A lone zombie staggered out, its hollow eyes locked onto you. Before you could react, Sukuna’s machete swung clean through its neck, the decayed head hitting the ground with a sickening thud.
“See?” he said, wiping the blade on the grass. “Cautious doesn’t get shit done.”
You glared at him, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the relief that washed over you.
“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his tone softer this time. “And try not to fall behind.”
You followed him silently, your grip on your knife tightening. Maybe Sukuna was right—this world didn’t care about your guilt. But that didn’t mean you were ready to let it go.
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<- Part 1
A/N If anyone is confused lmk and I'll try to better explain, but the second half of this and onward (including the next parts) is a flashback. Sorry if that wasn't too clear T...T Also, I got so sad when Kuna's first words to y/n were so harsh. Like damn bro, chill 😭
tags: @infiresmanh6, @yeagersss, @moonchhu,
masterlist | jjk masterlist
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fightingthetides · 16 hours ago
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Roberto couldn’t help but feel sorry towards Nunnally, because it wasn’t her fault for misunderstanding something. It wasn’t easy to learn how to better accommodate someone who was on the run, and she was doing her best with her limited knowledge in the category. Not only that, but with the way Ravein normally spoke, it wasn’t easy to understand what he meant to say. It was very cryptic, and it may take a considerable amount of time before you start understanding his mindset.
Understanding Ravein’s situation better, Roberto could explain some things to Nunnally on the behalf of Ravein.
“Though it is nuanced, it is generally safer to be around the public, in more enclosed spaces. The mafia cannot so easily act in a public space where their activities will be seen- so then they’d catch the attention of the authorities.” Roberto glances over at Ravein, who nods his head once, “It’s harder for specialists like snipers to find the opportunity to kill someone indoors and not risk involving an innocent bystander.”
Of course, the same could be said for outside in public, but if they truly wanted Ravein dead, they could simply choose to kill him, attract the attention of the authorities, but run away quick enough to not face any consequences. The better he could blend in with others and have plenty opportunities to hide, the better. That’s why places like the beach were dangerous, because he couldn’t hide anywhere. Also, the ocean was a popular spot for gangsters to rid of evidence.
“He’s generally safer indoors,” though that didn’t mean he was actually safe. There were guns that could shoot bullets through walls, and some specialists had ways to find a target inside, such as using surveillance, or heat seeking technology. It was a hassle that most wouldn’t be willing to spend all the time, money, and effort on. “It seems that though he’s nervous about being around people in general, he would still like to try going out with you. He needs to learn to be more comfortable being around others.” Can’t forget how he never properly socialized with others normally, so he felt at odds with the general populace.
Thinking it over, “perhaps for the first outing, I will have to trouble you with spending time with an old man like myself. I can help bridge any misunderstandings,” and also help ease Ravein into being around people. Someone would have to act as his lifeline to keep his delicate tether of sanity in check.
At her question about shopping for something more, Ravein nodded his head quietly, thinking it would be interesting to shop for other things as well. It’s what he heard about, ‘window shopping’.
[Malls] [Okay]
When Roberto returned, he accepted his mug, and so did Ravein. The two men tried a sip of their beverages, and it was readily evident on both of their faces that they liked the drinks.
[Good]
“It’s a lovely cup of coffee, thank you, Miss Nunnally.” Roberto thanks her with a smile and he turns to stare at Ravein’s notebook with disapproval. “You should really say more if you wish to prevent further misunderstandings, Rav. Most can’t understand your meaning with just a couple of words.”
“Some people find it rude if one is so curt with their words,” he added and the look of surprise on Ravein’s face was clear as day. This was a habit of his from his intel broker days. The less information anyone could gain about him, the better. So he always spoke very little and virtually only answered with [yes] and [no] so people couldn’t get a good read on his handwriting to do analysis.
Ravein nods his head solemnly, and Roberto takes another sip of his coffee, turning to Nunnally. “You are free to tell him if he makes things harder for you because of his habits. He’s usually open minded enough to take your concerns into consideration. With me, he usually writes full sentences, for example.” Well, it took time for Ravein to feel comfortable enough to do so, but still.
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Nunnally didn’t originally notice that she had confused Ravein. Sure, she didn’t completely understand everything he was trying to communicate, so it was a guessing game for her, but with her talking, she tried to explain to him what message had finally reached her. It was not that she was entirely clear either, as she was so used to overthinking and second-guessing that her messages could also be somewhat blurry.
She did hear Roberto’s ( “What’s wrong?” ) question, but she has decided to ignore it for the time being. It was not directed at her, and even though if it was, everything seemed just fine for her. Though internally, Nunnally was anxious. Something was wrong again. Did she say something wrong? Did she overlook some hints that were given to her?
-- ( She surely did; that was what she was doing all the time. ) --
But even if she did, Nunnally considered it was not big this time. She had already experienced a major overstepping of Ravein’s boundaries, so she suspected this time, it was at most a medium “misunderstanding.” So, she continued keeping herself busy, while Robero and Ravein were speaking with each other. And, indeed, Roberto’s reply to Ravein made her feel better; or perhaps rather calmer, and she allowed herself to ask: --
“Have I misunderstand you, Rav, again? I am sorry. I am not the best in reading in between. I never was.”
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Though she didn’t ask what she had mixed up, or where her mistake was. Shall they want to tell her, they surely would. And soon Nunnally learnt not to be wrong.
Oh! So it was all about! That she thought that Ravein didn’t want to join her for "mug hunting"! And she assumed it was too dangerous for him: --
“I thought that perhaps it’s too risky, if we go shopping out there in the city. But if you think it’s just fine, then yes: let’s go.” – Nunnally smiled and added – “I’ll leave it to Ravein. I wouldn’t mind the three of us go, but it’s not that I don’t enjoy spending time with Ravein alone.”
“And yes…” – Nunnally added this time directly to Roberto – “I actually think that some of my small additions make the coffee taste nicer. Though I have a simple taste as you might remember and for me, it’s mainly choosing the right kind of coffee beans.”
They were soon ready. Roberto and Nunnally with their drinks. Nunnally was quite proud of what she had prepared, but she would still wait a few moments before Roberto was back. In the meantime, she smiled to Ravein: --
“I am excited, too. Would it be okay to shop for something more? I might need a things or two.” – perhaps she really did not need them, but it would allow them to spend some more time together – “What places are better? Crowded malls or rather smaller shopping alleys? Would lunch also be an option?”
Roberto was back rather fast.
And there Nunnally was; beaming with pride, handing one mug to Roberto and another to Ravein: --
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 “Dark roast with star anise. I didn’t add too much as it’s a unique taste.. Not everyone likes it.”
“Your tea is based on lavender. I was less experimental here.”
“I hope you’ll like it. Enjoy.” – she hoped they would find the drinks tasty – “But do feel free to tell me if you don’t. I don’t want to make you a drink you don’t like again.”
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thriller1ruler · 3 days ago
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GIGGLY BUG -(part one)
ler: gi-hun lee: in-ho
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A/N: help this is my first fanifiction aaargghh this took sm but yh hope you like it!! a feedback would help alot 😋 i sadly cant remember much of s2 what they exactly talked abt and stuff, so sorry abt that but,i tried my best!!
Summary: in-ho has been feeling a little odd after the talk abt his wife with Gi-hun, the man that played these games before. suddenly, player 456 got an wonderful idea how to turn his frown upside down!
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Everyone had fallen asleep and another game was defeated. most of those people there decided to stay, typing the O in the first round.
Gi-hun sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly into the wall, thinking. the silence of the room echoed his thoughts, amplifying the emptiness he couldnt shake off. "will i ever be able to end this game? "what if i end up like last time and all of the new people i met would die infront of my eyes again.? "what if i would die? could they keep it out without me??" The weight of everything that happened pressed down on his chest. he was lost in his thoughts when suddenly, in-ho sat next to him. "excuse me" he said. Gi-hun came back to reality. "sorry if i came so unexpected. i found it difficult to fall asleep, and i saw that you had the same issue..i wanted to apologize, about what happened after the decide to stay or not." he told extra. "...no..its fine, i apologize also. i was out of line." gi-hun spoke, looking at in-ho's eyes. "my wife is very sick.."
Gi-hun attentively listened as In-ho shared his concerns about his ill and pregnant wife, comprehending every word he expressed. He regonized that number 001 teared up a little and felt down after ending the topic..oh boy, what's he gonna do now? "...it had been a while since i cheered up people.." he thought, feeling a little awkward.
In a moment of inspiration, Gi-hun conceived a brilliant idea, but wasnt sure if he should ACTUALLY do this. A little bit of cheer up tickles wouldnt hurt this sorrowful man right now, would it..?
While in-ho was looking down, entering more into darkness, gi-hun slowly reached his hands..aiming in-ho's sides. "please work, please work, please work..!" after a moment of silence, the quite room suddenly earned a sound of a squeal. There we go!
"...whahat are you..?"
"dont make any loud noises, alright?"
"whahaAHA-?! wahihit hohOLd on!!"
Gi-hun was also unsure what he brang himself into. He thought cheering up other ones, would maybe cheer up him too. he digged his fingers more into his new friends sides. In In-ho's mind, he didnt know what to feel either. Since when he has been this ticklish?? so many unanswered questions, but sadly no right answer. He could kick Gi-hun's face right now, but seems like the tickling made him weak.
"whahat is thihis fohohor?! people are sleheheping!!!"
"..you seemed sad. and instead of just staring at you, i thought i would help a little." gi-hun explained.
"we couhuhu- EHAHAHA wahihit wAIhihit CMOHOHON-! thihis is nohohot helpihing!!"
oh god. when was this going to end? and why..did his body suddenly unlock parts which wasnt even ticklish at all?? gi-hun's hands weren't making the situation any better!! slow-tickles were hell for this man. he hided his face with his hands, trying not to let out any weird noises, laying on gi-huns bed, in a giggly mess. Number 456 hands switched the spots and went up on his ribs, scribbling slowly up and down.
"you know, you remind me of my little daughter.. she was a squirmer like you" gi-hun added. now it was getting awkward. "did he just compare me to a little girl??" Gi-hun noticed his emberassment, he couldnt help but let out a little chuckle. "i thought you were a serios man huh..?" "QUIHIHIT IHIHIT!! ehehe- ihihim cheered uhup, sEehehehe?" his giggles turned into silent laughter, but sadly not for a long time. Gi-hun decided to go for his armpits now, finding this situation kinda adorable. "khahahaha! OHOHOKAY everhyhything but nohohot nOhohow! THIHIS is chihildish..ihihi cAhant!!"
"..." gi-hun chuckled even more. humans do have 2 sides. "not now, eh? you want to have more?" "shihihihit!!" in-ho was about to scream and shoot this man without any guilt, cursing the day he invinted him to this game.
Now, In-ho grabbed Gi-huns pillow and positioned it infront of his face, just letting the laughter go. Laughing like this..was a pleasant. he kinda enjoyed this moment, being clingy and everything without any intruptions. Gi-hun didnt mind this at all. He just thought that in-ho seemed to look like a little puddle, asking for tummy pats. laughing a little with him.
oh, humans do really have 2 sides.
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aaaa my first fanific oh my oh myyyyyyy EEEEEE i think im abt to explode i aint THAT proud of this but like mwah im happy abt it ehe!!.
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twstfanblog · 2 days ago
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Hey there my lovely oomf <3
can we have some lovely bonding time with Jamil during Chinese new year?
like maybe they’re making a dish to celebrate and it ends with a kiss or smth.
thank you for your time!
Chinese New Year Prep
Jamil x Reader
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"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing"
The prefect could only glance to the side, smiling sheepishly, "Okay. But...sorry-"
Jamil sighed, closing his eyes as he poured cooked redbean paste filling into a waiting mason jar to be cooled, "Prefect. It's fine."
"...Okay, but-"
"Look me in the eyes, right now."
They, of course, weren't going to do that. So they turned away from the annoyed vice, focusing on cleaning the third whole fish for the festivities. The prefect had made what could only be deemed a cardinal sin, mentioning their homesickness to Kalim. He had been more than willing to hear them out, offering his shoulder and ear to their plight as they talked about their home.
Making the terrible mistake of explaining Chinese New Year to the housewarden.
Now Kalim was set on throwing a New Years party, no matter what they nor Jamil did to stop him. Jamil was only willing to let them help with the sudden prep because they had insisted to the vice there were rules. And as nice as Kalim was, they were not going to let him fuck up their New Years luck.
"I just...even back home it's a lot sometimes. I can only think how big Kalim is going to make this." They finally glance to Jamil's annoyed expression, "Just...sorry..."
Sighing, Jamil reached a hand out to gently tuck a hair behind the prefect's ear, "Don't apologize for being homesick. From what you told me and Kalim, this is a big celebration for family and friends. It only makes sense you'd get sad."
"Yeah..."
"..." Jamil used the back end of a spoon, scooping up a bit of cooled lotus seed filling and offering it to the prefect's mouth, "Try this, I want to have the expert's opinion."
Laughing a bit, they opened their mouth to let Jamil feed them by hand. Humming, they felt the homesickness ease at the familiar tastes, "It's really good. How many fillings did you make again?"
Jamil looked to the multiple sealed jars of various fillings along the countertop, "Most likely too many. You gave us two traditional flavors, but the dough is so simple that I agreed with Kalim you could really fill them with anything. So I made...a lot."
"You're lucky there wasn't enough time to make salted egg yolks. They're the best, but I think with all the other fillings it should still be balanced."
Jamil hummed, turning to the prefect, "I've been meaning to ask. This is a lot of prep and regulations for a single day of celebration. I know it's a big holiday, but why can't we clean until it's been five days since the new year?"
"Ok...so...I told you there were a lot of rules...and there are...because its the new year, a lot of things are reset and set up so you have to prep your luck for the year."
"Ok? That doesn't answer why I can't clean-"
"It's bad luck. You can only clean once the fifth day happens. And afterwards the other days are good to clean as you need-"
Jamil snaps over to them, eyes narrowed in suspension, "Other days...what other days?"
"..." The prefect touches the tips of their fingers together, smiling nervously as they attempted to step farther away, "The New Years Festival lasts fifteen days..."
"..." Jamil grabbed their arm, pulling them closer and placing a hand to their cheek, "The one you behold is your master."
"J-jamil!?" They laughed, trying to pull and turn away from the vice.
"When I ask you a question, you will answer." He didn't release them, wrapping his arms around their waist.
"Jamil, calm down! I'm not going to tell Kalim, I swear!"
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nameless-jamie · 3 days ago
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TARTT'S CORNER - Jamie Tartt x Y/N
Masterlist - Next Chapter
TW: Indication of smut. Minors do not interact.
Chapter 6: The Late-Night Recording
The week after the last podcast episode and their late-night-hangout had flown by, but somehow, everything between Jamie and Y/N had shifted in the most subtle, yet undeniable way. That night broke the ice between them. In just seven days, their connection had deepened, from casual banter during podcast planning to something more—something that hummed beneath the surface every time their eyes met or their voices intertwined.
They had spent nearly every day together, in between Jamie’s training sessions and Y/N’s podcast obligations. The chemistry between them was electric, and it didn’t take long for both of them to realize they were becoming each other’s favorite person to hang out with.
One lazy friday evening, they were sprawled out on Y/N’s couch again, binge-watching movies in her cozy apartment. Seemed to have become a routine for the both of them. The air outside had turned crisp, and the warmth of the living room made everything feel comfortable, safe. Y/N insisted on watching Bend It Like Beckham, a cheesy classic she claimed every footballer should appreciate.
“Are you serious? This movie’s got to be a joke,” Jamie scoffed, watching the dramatic football scenes unfold. “Who runs through the entire defense like that? And the keeper? What’s he doing, just standing there?”
Y/N threw a cushion at him, laughing. “It’s a classic, Jamie! Maybe you should just sit back and enjoy the ridiculousness for once.”
Jamie grinned, feeling the rare thrill of teasing her. He leaned back into the couch, looking at her through the corner of his eye. “I’ll tell you one thing: these football scenes are a crime against the sport,” he teased, nudging her shoulder. But there was something in the way their bodies brushed against each other that made his chest tighten. It felt... different.
“Yeah, well,” Y/N shot back, “this movie's got heart. You could learn something from it.”
Jamie shot her a mock glare, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. The chemistry between them was undeniable, even if neither of them would admit it. She was warm and confident, making him feel like he could just be himself around her. No bravado. No showmanship. Just Jamie, the guy who loved football, made too many bad jokes, and secretly cared more than he let on.
Y/N’s phone interrupted the cozy silence of the end credits of Bend it like Beckham.
"Hello....Yeah this is she....wait a minute....Sky football?!! Y/N was pacing up and down in the room, and even Jamie's ears perked up a little at the mention if the famous TV channel. "I would love to do that. Yeah, I'll make room in my schedule. Tell him I said thank you, see you on monday!"
Y/N sounded way too excited. Jamie guessed that it must be a huge opportunity for Y/N’s, whatever the news were, that she just received. She'll tell him soon enough and when she does, she'll also have to explain why she'll see, whoever she’s going to see on Monday. The day of their podcast...
Soon enough Y/N hung up and turned towards Jamie wide-eyed. "Striker's Corner Podcast host Y/N Y/L/N just got the opportunity to interview Marcus Rashford of Manchester United, on Monday, live on Sky Sports. On TV Jamie! I'm gonna be on fucking TV, with Marcus fucking Rashford." She jumped up and down towards Jamie with the hugest smile on her face.
Jamie couldn't help but laugh and be happy for her. Even though he is sad that their 3rd podcast episode has to be pushed further back now and that their time together will be cut short, because she needs to leave for Manchester soon. But all the negative thoughts flew out of his mind when she suddenly wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face in his chest.
"I'm so fucking proud of you," Jamie whispered absent minded into the crown of her hair. But she heard it. And she was even happier he said it. He’s made her feel worth it.
"Our thirst episode has to be pushed back now. Maybe next Thursday?" Y/N said with a hint of sadness in her voice as she untangled herself from the embrace. "I'm sorry Jamie. I have to head to Manchester for the interview..."
Jamie froze, suddenly aware of how much he had grown used to her presence.
His chest tightened at the thought of her leaving. Sure, it was only for a couple of days, but the thought of missing their freshly-developed routine made something inside him itch. He tried to brush it off, to convince himself it didn’t matter. “Hey, no problem, babe. You’ll kill it. Just don’t get too starstruck,” he joked.
"I'll send you lots of photos of your hometown, Tartt." She tried to lighten the mood.
Jamie chuckled at that shaking his head "Ah, blimey, no thanks. Seen enough o' that town already. You're interviewing the wrong Manchester lad anyways, babe. City's the only true Manchester team."
The next day, before Y/N has to leave for Manchester, they found themselves in a small café in Richmond, a quiet place with low lights and an old-school charm. Y/N took her usual spot at the corner table waiting for the striker to arrive. A minute later an already smiling Jamie approached, still in his training gear, his hair slightly damp from the shower after training.
“Hey,” Y/N teased, looking at his sweat-drenched Richmond jacket. “Planning on staying for a drill session, or is that just your look now?”
Jamie rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I don’t even know why I’ve bothered to shower,” he said, flopping down across from her. “You’re never gonna take me seriously, so I'm not goin' to make meself look pretty for you anymore.”
“Seriously? I take you very seriously,” Y/N replied with a cheeky grin. “It’s just that your idea of fashion could use a little work. The whole sexy football player, David Beckham lookalike-style is a little out.”
He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Beckham dreams he had style like me. Don't even chat about me like that though. You're the girl who orders the weirdest coffee. What is that? A double shot of espresso with coconut milk, 2 shots of pumpkin spice and one cinnamon stick floating around in it? Honestly, I’ve never seen someone get that specific about a coffee order.”
She leaned in, arching an eyebrow. “I like what I like, alright? Maybe you should try it. Could help you deal with your serious issues.”
“Don’t even get me started,” Jamie said with a smirk. “You’re the one who’s been getting me into all this serious podcast stuff. You’ve got me talking about football like it’s a full-on therapy session.”
Y/N leaned back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, you did sign up for it. You’re stuck with me now.”
The playful banter had become their rhythm—something Jamie had come to crave. Every conversation felt natural, every joke felt easier than the last. He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked this—liked how comfortable he felt around her, how she didn’t seem to be intimidated by his celebrity or his over-the-top confidence.
The week they’ve spent together passed in a blur. Jamie found himself always looking forward to their hangouts—whether it was watching a match together, grabbing coffee, or simply talking about football in between her usual podcast episodes. But when she told him about the interview with Marcus Rashford yesterday, something inside him shifted. He is a little out of it today and his banter is only half-cheeky and his eyes look kinda sad. Y/N notices immediately.
There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that made her heart skip. But she didn’t call him out on it. Instead, she smiled. “I’ll be back before you know it. Don’t worry about me or the podcast, the fans can wait another two or three days, to hear our sexy voices again.”
Y/N again, tried to lighten the mood, because she saw right through Jamie and assumed that he was disappointed that they could not film their episode on Monday like usual.
Somehow that just wasn’t the only reason…
Monday night, when Y/N’s interview aired, Jamie found himself sitting alone in his flat, flipping channels absently. He wasn’t even sure why he was watching it. He missed her, so much. Maybe he was a masochist... But when he heard her voice—her laugh—on the TV, it hit him. It wasn’t just the interview. It was the way Marcus is speaking to her, the playful flirtation between them that made something in Jamie twist. It was her black pantsuit that fit in all the right places, with the red heels, that she wore to the interview. Red for Man United...
As he heard Marcus compliment her professionalism, then flirt a little—gently teasing her, asking about her rise in the podcasting world—Jamie’s irritation built. He couldn’t help himself. He replayed the moment. Then, another time. And another. The jealousy bubbled up, thick and raw.
Meanwhile Y/N was nervously fiddling with her blazer, trying to calm her nerves for the interview she's about to have with Marcus Rashford, live on Sky Sports.
Y/N adjusted her mic, her fingers brushing against the sleek surface of her recording equipment. She smiled at Marcus, who sat across from her, the bright studio lights reflecting off his sharp features. He looked relaxed—too relaxed—his posture loose, almost like he was enjoying the attention. And maybe he was. The way he kept eyeing her made it hard for Y/N to stay focused on the questions in front of her.
"So, Marcus," Y/N began, leaning forward slightly, her voice steady despite the heat she felt creeping up her neck. "You’ve been doing some incredible work off the pitch, with your foundation and everything. How does it feel to be recognized for that side of you, beyond the footballer?"
Marcus leaned back in his chair, his lips curling into a confident but soft smile. "It feels great, honestly. Helping out with the foundation I created, working on the projects—it gives me purpose. But I won’t lie, football's still where my heart is. It’s all about finding balance, you know?"
Y/N nodded, intrigued. "I get that. But balancing the fame that comes with being a footballer and a philanthropist... it's gotta be a bit of a juggle, right? You’re always in the spotlight."
Marcus chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he met her gaze. "I think I handle it pretty well," he replied, voice smooth, "But, hey, if you ever need tips on managing the attention, I’m your guy." His grin deepened, and he leaned forward just a touch, as though daring her to take the bait.
Y/N’s breath caught, but she quickly masked it with a playful laugh. "I think I can handle the attention I get pretty well on my own already," she shot back, her tone light but with a hidden challenge. "But I’ll keep you in mind."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her quick response. "Oh, I’m sure you do," he said, his voice laced with a teasing note. "But, let’s be honest, I think I could teach you a thing or two about handling the spotlight. With a man like me by your side, you could do no wrong." The Sky Sports pundits laughed at Rashford's joke from the other side of the table.
There it was—his flirtation was subtle, but it was definitely there, hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. Y/N had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing at his flirting attempts. She wasn’t here to flirt with Marcus Rashford. He was charming in the way only a professional athlete could be—confident, self-assured, and just a bit cocky. But she already has someone like that at home. And just like that Jamie Tartt occupied her mind again.
"Is that so?" Y/N asked, tilting her head slightly, her eyes narrowing with playful, but stern suspicion. "I’m not sure you’re as good at giving advice as you think."
Marcus grinned, his gaze never leaving hers. "Well, you’ll never know until you take me up on it," he said smoothly. "But maybe you're a bit too focused on the game to take time for yourself."
Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "I’m pretty good at multitasking, actually. I can definitely handle the spotlight, and all the other things that come with it."
There was a long beat, the air thick with the underlying tension between them. Marcus seemed to be enjoying himself, leaning in just a little closer, clearly not willing to let the moment pass without pushing the boundaries a little more.
"You’re a tough one, Y/N," he said, his voice a little lower now. "I like that." Y/N tried not roll her eyes out-loud at that.
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Marcus," Y/N replied, her tone a little more forced than she intended. She cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. "But back to your foundation—how did it all start? I know it’s something really close to your heart…"
Y/N was now clearly uncomfortable, the flirting was a bit too heavy on Rashford's side. Too heavy for Jamie's liking too, his brain seemed to short-circuit as he watched that part of the interview again.
“What the hell am I doing?” Jamie muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face. It’s just Marcus Rashford, he told himself. Nothing to worry about.
But every time Y/N laughed, his chest tightened, the frustration only deepening. He hated how irrational it felt. But he couldn’t stop it.
Before he even knew what he was doing, he found himself calling Keeley.
Jamie gripped the steering wheel tighter, the wipers on full blast as rain pelted against the windshield. He had no idea what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop now. He pulled out his phone again, fingers fumbling for Keeley’s number.
The call rang for a moment before she picked up. “Jamie? You okay? It’s late, what’s going on?”
“Yeah, I’m—uh—fine,” he said, his voice a bit too rushed. He took a deep breath, trying to sound casual. “Listen, I need a favor.”
Keeley’s voice softened, a hint of concern. “What’s up?”
“I need Y/N’s address,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “Her Airbnb address.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “What? Why? You know she’s in Manchester, right? Are you—?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know she’s there,” Jamie cut in, rubbing his face with one hand, glancing nervously at the road. “I just—I need to talk to her. It’s important, Keeley. I can’t wait until next week to record, and I don’t want to mess up our routine. I’ve... I’ve got a few things to sort out, you know?”
Keeley was quiet for a moment. Jamie could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. Then she spoke, her tone teasing but warm. “You miss her, don’t you?”
Jamie’s heart skipped, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s not like that. I just—look, I don’t know what I’m doing, okay? Just tell me where she’s staying.”
Keeley’s laugh was light, understanding. “Fine, fine, I’ll send it to you. But Jamie, you might want to figure out what you’re actually gonna say to her when you get there, yeah?”
Jamie’s grip on the phone tightened. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Sure you do,” Keeley said, her voice playful, but there was an underlying softness to it. “Drive safe, Jamie. And maybe take a moment to figure out if you’re just going for the podcast... or something more.”
Jamie groaned, his cheeks flushing even though she couldn’t see him. “You’re terrible,” he muttered, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips.
“Wouldn’t be Keeley if I wasn’t,” she replied, her tone light. “Good luck.”
Jamie hung up, his mind racing as he dialed the road ahead. He’d never been more sure of anything in his life, but damn, this felt like a hell of a lot more than just showing up to record.
When he finally arrived at her Airbnb, soaked to the bone and nearly out of breath, he didn’t stop to think. He didn’t care if he was being reckless—he only knew that he couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to see her.
He knocked, his heart hammering in his chest. Hopefully she isn't asleep yet....He could always crash at his mum and Simon's place and- The door opened, and there she was, standing in front of him in the infamous figure-hugging pantsuit, still wearing her heels as though she’d just walked into the Airbnb straight from the Sky sport studio. The sight of her in that outfit, looking so damn confident and beautiful, made Jamie’s chest tighten in a way he couldn’t ignore. He rehearsed what he wanted to say to her in the car, like Keeley told him. But now it's all gone, his mind went blank.
“Jamie?” she asked, her voice softer than usual, still coming to terms with the fact that he was standing there, drenched and completely unexpected, but still handsome as ever.
He stepped closer, unable to stop himself. “I’ve got time now,” he said, his voice low and edged with something unspoken. “To record our podcast episode.”
Y/N’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “Wait what? What are you doing here, Jamie? Why now? Why in the middle of the night? You drove all the way from Richmond to Manchester in the rain just for the podcast?”
His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, but they all melted away when he saw the way she looked at him, the vulnerability in her eyes. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Without thinking, he reached for her, pulling her close, pressing his lips against hers in a fierce kiss that stole the breath from both of them.
She gasped against him, her hands instinctively moving around his neck. He was relentless, pushing her back against the door with an intensity that made her pulse race. Her heart was hammering in her chest, she knew she should pull away and question him, but she couldn’t. Not with him looking at her like that, not when everything between them was hanging by a thread. Not when he looked so beautiful, hair damp and messy…
“I need you, Y/N,” Jamie whispered against her lips, his voice ragged. “I’ve missed you so much. Fuckin' teasin' me with that sexy pantsuit of yours on TV.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her again, this time more urgently, pulling her into the apartment with him. The moment they stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind them, and the world outside ceased to exist.
Y/N led him through the small hallway, her breath quickening as they walked toward the bedroom. Clothes scattered across the floor as they left their bodies. The air was thick with tension, with anticipation, and with the unspoken things that had been building up between them all week.
As Jamie stopped at the doorway, he looked at her—eyes dark with desire, lips swollen from their kiss—and without a word, they stepped into the bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.
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the-broken-pen · 3 days ago
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Hi! I love love LOVE your writing so much!!!❤️❤️(it’s the only thing sometimes that can help me reorient myself when life sucks)-
Idk if you’ve already written a work like this- but could you write about a villain who fakes being in a relationship with hero to get information. Hero absolutely loves them and thinks that they can finally be happy….but then Villain breaks their heart- while saying they never loved them and that it was all a lie.
and then later on Villain regrets it and realizes they are actually obsessed with hero and go full psycho?
The hero had spent their childhood watching as their parents fought viciously with one another. Slamming doors and breaking plates, and then sullen, withdrawn and nearly silent conversations illuminated only by the dying lamp in the corner of the living room. Whatever the hero’s parents had, it wasn’t love, and never would be. The hero had no way of knowing if it ever had been. 
And then the hero had watched as time after time, their sister loved someone with her whole heart and was left shattered on the hero’s doorstep at the end of it. Fairytales that ended with no happy ending, ripped up love notes and a hundred playlists made for people their sister could no longer bear to name out loud.
The hero had watched their entire family reach for love and fall flat every time, and had resigned themself to a fate of the kind of heartbreak you cannot escape. The kind that hangs over heads like a cloud and fogs mirrors.
And then–
The villain. The hero had met the villain, and the villain had smiled, and they thought maybe, just maybe, they had beaten the curse. That they were meant for the soft kind of love they had only imagined when they were young, before the pain of it got too great.
The hero had let the villain intertwine themself into the hero’s life, and they had thought they were okay. They had thought they had made it. 
Which was why, now, they couldn’t seem to make themself think anything sensical at all.
The villain settled the file in front of the hero gently, on the table they had picked out together with as much care as one was capable of. They almost, almost, looked like they regretted it, face soft and breakable.
The villain cleared their throat in the silence. “If you just read it–”
“What, can’t say it yourself?”
The villain stopped, swallowing. This was the first time in a very long time the hero had seen them look unsure.
The hero scoffed at them. “I know about Project Pegasus.”
The villain went very, very still. They looked down towards the folder.
“So then–”
“This?” the hero picked up the folder, waving it once. They tossed it onto the floor without looking. “I’ve already read it. Two weeks ago.” They stared at the villain, and did their best not to blink. “I just hoped it was fake.”
The hero wondered if maybe, this was what had happened to their parents. If they had spent all of that time fighting and hating one another and crying in darkened rooms just so they could spend the rest of it constantly reaching back towards one another. Pretending that the file wasn’t real. That the fights were nothing more than a blip in existence and not the roots of a rot so deep it would never be fully cut out of them. 
They had wondered about a lot of things, curled on the bathroom floor around that wretched file, but mostly they had wondered if they had always been meant to end up here. If this was what being doomed felt like. 
The villain blinked.
“You hoped it was fake.”
The hero felt a little like they couldn’t breathe. They sucked a shallow breath in through their nose anyways. 
“If you–” their voice broke. “If you were me, would you want to believe it?”
The villain’s shoulders, almost imperceptibly, slumped.
“I’m sorry.”
“Oh, are you?”
“Yes,” the villain said, but in the space where they should have explained themself, where they should have said it was fake, and that they loved the hero more than anything, and that this little apartment meant everything to them–they said nothing.
“So, what,” the hero snapped, voice wet with barely held back tears. “You’re going to tell me you didn’t mean for me to fall in love with you? That this was an accident? That you’re sorry again? That you never meant to hurt me–”
“No,” the villain corrected gently. “You were always meant to fall in love with me.”
A tiny sob wormed its way out of the hero’s throat before they could stop themself, and they pressed their shaking fist to their mouth before anything else could follow, turning away.
“It was just about the information,” the villain said, and the hero shoved themself back from the table, just to get further away from the love of their life.
“You knew what you were doing,” the hero said bitterly. “You know me. You knew. You knew I would never be able to get over this, and you did it anyways–”
“It’s my job,” the villain protested, and it took the hero everything in them to remain standing. “It wasn’t personal.”
“You made yourself my world, you made yourself into my everything, you made me fall in love with you–”
“I never made you do anything.”
“Don’t say that. You don’t get to say that. This was your goal, wasn’t it? Own up to your accomplishments. Go on. Tell me how proud you are. Do it.”
“Hero.”
“I loved you,” the hero was screaming, maybe.
And there it was. Past tense.
Loved.
The villain stepped back like the hero had slapped them.
“Hero,” their voice was barely a whisper.
The hero picked up the file. Rifled through it once more.
“Hero–”
The hero held out the file. The villain didn’t take it, hands remaining limp at their side.
“Take it.” They gestured with the file. “Take it, and get out.”
The villain sucked in a breath.
“Hero,” the villain said again, uselessly. 
“Tell me you love me, then. Tell me you meant it.” They gestured to the file once more. “Tell me that this is the lie.”
“I can’t.”
“Tell me.”
The villain opened their mouth, and for a second, the hero hoped–
“I don’t love you.” 
The hero wished the villain had just killed them. 
“I never loved you. It was all a lie. A really, really pretty lie.”
The hero wanted to say something elegant to that. Something biting and vicious and jagged in the same way the inside of them felt right now. They wanted to say everything they had felt earlier, every thought that had cut them so that it could cut the villain too.
Instead, all they managed was a choked, “Get out.”
They threw the file at the villain.
The villain didn’t bother to catch it, letting it slam into their chest. It thudded against the floor, papers spilling out in a halo around the villain’s feet.
A part of them wanted the villain to argue further.
A part of them just wanted the villain dead.
“I’m sorry,” the villain said once more, and then they were gone.
The villain had known as soon as the hero had thrown that file that they wanted the villain dead. 
That they were more likely to claw their own bones apart than willingly reach for the villain’s hand again, and the logical part of their brain was viciously pleased about it.
It made this whole thing easier. No lingering attachments to further butcher. Just a field, burned so badly nothing would ever grow in it again, and god, wasn’t that convenient for their mission. 
A tiny, smothered part of their brain, however, wouldn’t stop screaming.
They drowned it.
But then the villain would catch themself glancing to their side in search of a smile. They would wait a beat too long after they said something, would wait for laughter, and then there would be none, and they would curse themself for it, and that little part of them would come gasping back to life and start screaming again.
Possibly it was that little part of them that had made them send a message to the hero, offering the apartment. It was the least they could do, right? Fuck up their life and then get the fuck out of it. 
But the texts had said delivered, but never read, and three days later when the villain used their key to open the lock, they found themself stepping into a mausoleum and not a home. 
They weren’t sure what they were expecting, but it wasn’t this. Dust hanging in the air. Blank squares left on the walls where pictures had once hung. Empty cabinets, empty floors, empty rooms; no, whatever they had been expecting, it wasn’t this.
For a reason they couldn’t name, they went from room to room, searching for something without quite understanding what. It wasn’t until they had come full circle back into the living room, fingers coated in dust and an aching chest, that the villain had realized. Ghosts. They were looking for ghosts. 
Because there was nothing better to describe the way they felt right now other than haunted. And if there was something, anything, of the hero left in here to burn, to destroy, to exorcise, they could use it as an excuse–
There was nothing left of the hero. There were no ghosts. This place was just dead.
The villain made a shuddering little sound, and slammed the front door closed behind them when they managed to stumble into the hallway. 
This was an easy mission, it was–
–two years and dates over ramen and houseplants–
–something even a new recruit could do–
–i love you’s in the dark and the scent of the hero on all of their clothes and–
–something the villain was trained for, countless hours spent–
–laughing and crying and rainy days and sunny ones–
–learning how to fake love, and somehow–
–the villain had forgotten it was fake.
The villain couldn’t breathe.
The villain had forgotten they weren’t supposed to fall in love, too.
The villain had forgotten they weren’t supposed to fall in love too, and they had just set their entire world ablaze around themself.
Fuck.
It really only made sense, then, that they found themself standing on the roof of their old apartment building as it burned. And when that didn’t work, they moved onto the next, until a third building went up in flames beneath their feet. They knew the kind of message it would send, and they knew exactly who that message would get sent to–
The hero landed on the other end of the rooftop, as far away from the villain as they could possibly get. 
“Stop,” the hero hissed, teeth clenched. “Stop lighting things on fire to get my attention, just stop–”
“I’m in love with you,” the villain said, voice wrecked, and the hero reacted like the villain had shot them. They stepped away, feet bumping against the edge like the fall was a better option than the villain.
“No,” the hero said. They shook as they said it. “Stop it. You don’t get to do this to me.”
“I love you,” the villain said again, and the hero pressed a hand over their own heart.
“Stay away from me,” the hero managed after a moment. Another deep breath, and their hand dropped back down to their side. “Go do whatever it is you need to do, go ruin anyone else’s life, and stay out of the wreckage of mine.”
“We have a life together,” the villain tried. If the hero could just see, could see that they could fix it– “I’m sorry. I was stupid, I was so, so stupid. But you can’t just leave, please, just let me fix it–”
“I told you to get out,” the hero said, and there was nothing soft in their eyes as they looked at the villain. “What about the way I said it made you think it was temporary?”
“Hero, please, let me fix–”
“Villain,” the hero said calmly, voice sharp. “Some things aren’t meant to be rebuilt.”
All of the air left the villain’s lungs in a pathetic sort of wheeze.
“You’re my everything,” the villain choked out. “My whole world, and I’m so sorry. I was–I made a mistake, but you can’t just throw us away–”
“No,” the hero spat, and the villain flinched. “You burned that world to the ground. You’re standing in the ashes of it. You don’t get to come to me begging for it back.”
The villain felt unmoored. Like the world had shifted one step to the left and they had no idea what to do with their limbs anymore, no idea how to keep existing.
“But I love you.”
“The only person who feels anything when you say that is you.”
This time, it was the villain who stepped back.
“Please,” the villain whispered, and the hero closed their eyes.
“What were you expecting to happen. That I would forgive you? Would fall back into your arms? You could tell me that you’re sorry in every language for the rest of your life and that wouldn’t make what you did hurt me any less. So why would you think you could light a building on fire, tell me you love me, and then make everything go back to the way it was?”
“I–I don’t–��
“There is no back,” the hero said firmly. “There is no undo.”
“I don’t know what to do,” the villain said. A tear dripped off the edge of their chin.
The hero appraised them.
“Learn to live with it.”
The villain sucked in a shuddering breath.
“I can’t live without you, okay, I can’t–”
“Then die.”
The villain froze. They waited for the hero to take it back, but the hero just stared at them, face stony and cold. An avenging angel on the edge of the rooftop, firelight flickering at their back and smoke rising into the air, not an ounce of sympathy left in their bones for the villain.
And before the villain could say anything, say that the hero couldn’t possibly mean that, the hero spoke again.
“I mean it. You are not my problem.”
The villain was choking. They were drowning on air and the hole they had left inside of themself when they ripped the hero out of their life and the hero was just watching them–
“Please,” they said pathetically, and even as they said it they knew it was futile.
The hero didn’t bother to give them another response.
They watched the hero leave without saying anything, smoke beginning to sting their eyes and nose as their hands shook. 
It felt terminal. It felt world-ending. It felt deserved.
They wished the hero had just killed them.
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writingwhimsey · 1 day ago
Text
Becoming Comtesse Ch. 1
A/N: Hello every one! Alright, this is the start of my first multi-chapter ikevamp fic! Inspired by a scene from Queen Charlotte and my love of the arranged marriage trope! In this fic, we meet my OC Colette. The eldest daughter of an English Baron who is being sent to France to marry our dear Comte! This first chapter is a little long, but I hope you enjoy it! I think I am going to really have some fun with this fic!
Chapter 1
I took a deep breath as I rode in the carriage with my mother and older brother. The carriage was fairly large and comfortable…quite elegant in fact. Of course, the comfort of the carriage didn’t do much for me considering my stomach was still in knots from the previous leg of our journey…by ship.
“Colette, you should look out the window. It might help you.” Mother said to me.
“Yes, you don’t want to be green when we arrive.” Thomas, my brother added.
I sighed. “I’m sorry, if I am not more enthused.” I replied.
“Oh, come now, dearest, you’ve always wanted to see Paris.” Mother reminded me.
“Yes…but not like this.” I remarked.
“You knew this would happen someday, Colette.” Thomas reminded me. “You’re moving up in station through this. I mean look at this carriage le Comte sent for us.”
“Yes, this will raise up the whole family.” Mother reminded me. “And it will help your younger sister find a suitable match as well.”
I sighed. There was no point in arguing. My brother had already completely agreed to this match on my behalf. As of this moment, there really was nothing I could do. On paper, it all did make sense. A French nobleman wanting to marry me, the eldest daughter of a merchant family. My father had only just recently been able to purchase the title of Baron before passing away suddenly, Thomas inheriting the title from him.
Mother’s hand came to rest on mine. “Colette, my dear, I promise you an arranged marriage isn’t the end of the world. Had I not had one, you and your siblings wouldn’t be here.” She gently reminded me.
I nodded. “I know…but at least you and Father grew up together. I don’t even know what my fiance looks like…let alone if he is kind or cruel. And I am to marry him in three days.”
“Just remember, Colette, our family needs this.” Thomas reminded me. “You’re marrying into the French nobility. Old money. It will look favorably for everyone.”
“Not to mention, we really did luck out. At your age…” Mother began.
“I know.” I replied. And how I knew. I was an old maid now, being unwed and in my early thirties. Practically ancient by the marriage market standards…and I had liked it that way.
I decided to look out the window and focus on the scenery. Fresh air and solid ground had already settled my stomach from the seasickness. Now all that remained was how I felt about meeting my fiance.
The carriage ride seemed to take forever. The city-scape gave way to a scenic countryside full of beautiful and vibrant flowers and lush trees. We finally arrived at the gates of a large country estate. The carriage took us all the way up to the front of a large mansion.
Thomas exited the carriage first, reaching his hand back to help my mother and then myself. I couldn’t help but to find myself in awe of the mansion. It was ENORMOUS! Yes we’d had a large house, but it was nothing compared to this place.
A young man with dark hair and wearing a butler’s suit and gloves came to greet us, giving us a bow. “Welcome, Baron Wells. Madame Wells.” He greeted them. “And you must be Mademoiselle Colette. I am Sebastian, Monsieur le Comte de Saint-Germain’s butler.”
“Oh, how delightful. Where is the master of the house?” Thomas asked.
“He is in town attending to some business. He will be back later this evening for the small dinner party planned to welcome you and to celebrate the engagement.” Sebastian explained.
I could feel the knots of anxiety twisting further in my stomach. I had hoped that the man would be here so that I could at least meet him. Sebastian led us inside, giving a casual tour of the mansion as we made our way to our rooms.
“The parlor is there. The dining room there. A game room through there.” Sebastian gestured.
“A game room?” I found myself asking.
“Yes. We have billiards and chess, for example.” Sebastian answered.
“Oh, your fiance enjoys a good game now and then. That sounds just like your father.” Mother told me. Clearly trying to talk the man up…even though she was just as clueless on how he really was as I was.
Sebastian finished showing us around, taking Thomas to his room first, followed by my mother, and then showing me to my room last. The coachman had helped him to carry our things in, meager as our luggage was compared to the guests I was sure le Comte usually entertained.
“And here is your room Mademoiselle.” Sebastian said as he opened the door for me.
I stepped inside, seeing a room decorated in warm soft tones. Whites and creams and golds. The curtains were even light and airy. There was also a balcony that overlooked the garden in the backyard of the mansion. A rather large and gorgeous garden full of colorful flowers blooming.
If it had been under any other circumstances, I would have been in complete awe of this place. It was beautiful, there was no doubt. Grand, for certain. A home most girls I knew back home would kill for. Here it was to be mine. I the lady of such a grand estate…yet I couldn’t help but to feel the anxiety tightening in my gut.
“Should you need anything, Mademoiselle, do not hesitate to ask.” Sebastian told me. “Le thermae is just down the hall should you wish to take a bath to freshen up. Monsuier le Comte has also left a present for you in the closet. I believe he would like for you to wear it to the dinner tonight.”
“I see…thank you.” I replied.
“Pardon me for asking, but is there anything I can assist you with?” Sebastian asked.
“Could…could you tell me about le Comte?” I asked after only a moment of hesitation.
“Ah, you are nervous about marrying a man you haven’t yet met.”
“Yes, that’s exactly it.” I replied. “What is he like?”
“He is a good man. A generous man.” Sebastian answered. “Though, I am sure nothing will assuage your fears as much as meeting him will. You shall see him tonight, fret not.”
Sebastian gave me no chance to ask any further questions and then he was gone. I sighed as I walked over to the closet and opened it up. Inside there was a rather beautiful dress, of gold silk with cream-colored flowers adorning it in places. On the vanity in the room there was a pair of long elegant white gloves. There was a jewelry box and I walked over to it, opening it…earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet to match the dress.
Just then there was a knock on the door and my mother was peeking her head in. “Ah, my dearest, it seems Monsuier le Comte is pulling out all of the stops for you.” She said, her eyes lighting up as she looked around the room and took notice of the dress and jewelry.
“Yes…it seems he wants a doll to dress up.”
Mother frowned. “Come, come. Let’s go freshen up. Those baths the butler mentioned sounded nice. That should help you relax a bit.”
I nodded. “Sure.” Though I knew a bath wouldn’t help me. Nothing would.
I was so anxious that I couldn’t even bring myself to take in the beauty of the bath. How elegant the room was and how warm the water was. Mother made sure that she helped me to scrub, something about getting the stink of travel off of me.
After the bath, we went right back to my room to get ready for the evening. Mother helped me to get ready, putting on the dress and accessories le Comte had gifted me. There must have been a king’s ransom in the diamonds and pearls that now adorned me.
“You look beautiful, dearest.” Mother told me, smiling warmly as she looked at me. “This le Comte has good taste.”
“It is lovely.” I replied as I looked at myself in the mirror. Though I could hardly recognize myself. Yes, we’d done our best to have nice things, but even with the fortune our family business had amassed, there were still some things out of reach.We were new money and generally looked down upon by those of old money.
Just then there was a knock on the door. “Are you ready, Mother? Sister?”
“Yes, we are. You can come in Thomas.” Mother called.
“Sebastian said that dinner isn’t quite ready yet, but we are permitted in the parlor where there are drinks waiting.” Thomas told us. “Perhaps some wine might help to calm you nerves, Sister.”
“Wine can be good for the nerves.” Mother agreed, looping her arm through mine.
“Right.”
The three of us left my room and headed down the stairs. We went to the parlor, where there were indeed drinks awaiting us. There were also some ordesvours. There were no signs however, of my fiance. “Here Sister, have some wine.” Thomas told me as he handed me a glass of wine.
“Thank you…” I replied, taking the glass, though I really wasn’t sure it would help me at all.
Just then Sebastian was coming into the room followed by a group of three men. One had jade eyes and the strangest hair color…it was a mixture of…black or dark blue and gray…? There was also a man with blue eyes and blond hair and a warm smile. The third man had a kind of bluish hair and bright blue eyes. Who were these men? Was one of them my fiance?
Sebastian bows to us. “Monsuier le Comte has only just returned. He has gone to freshen up.” Sebastian told us. “Though he didn’t want you to be bored, so he wanted some of his closest friends to greet you and keep you company. These are Monsuiers Napoleone, Vincent, and Arthur.”
With those introductions out of the way, Sebastian left the room. The three men came over my family and I. “Welcome, it is nice to meet you all.” Napoleone greeted us.
Vincent smiled and I swear I thought I heard angels singing. “And we are happy to welcome you here. Especially you, Madamouselle Colette.”
“Yes, it’s great to meet the bird who could get old Comte to settle down.” Arthur added.
I was surprised when I heard each of the men speak. I couldn’t quite place Napleone’s accent, it almost seemed somewhere between Italian and French? Vincent had a Dutch accent? I think it was anyways.
“Ah, another Englishman!” Thomas declared immediately latching onto Arthur.
“Yes, Comte has quite the collection of us.” Arthur replied.
“A collection?” Mother asked.
“Don’t listen to this idiot.” Napoleone said, shooting a look at Arthur. “Monsuier le Comte likes to support the arts. Arthur here is a writer and Vincent is a painter.”
“Oh, so he’s charitable and a patron of the arts!” Mother declared, turning to look at me. “That sounds like a good man.”
“He’s something.” Napoleone agreed.
We all stood or sat in the parlor together then, Mother and Thomas easily starting conversation with the three men. I would speak up every so often, trying to find out more information on le Comte…yet I kept getting very little…it may as well have been nothing. Arthur would say a bit more than the others, but something about his demeanor told me he wasn’t entirely serious.
I could feel my anxiety getting to me and that parlor suddenly felt very tiny and warm. “Excuse me a moment.” I muttered. “I…need some air.”
I didn’t give anyone time to stop me. I exited the parlor and started wandering through the mansion, looking for an exit. I wasn’t even sure where I was going, but I soon found myself out in the garden I had seen from my balcony. Little did I know, I was being watched.
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livingdeadmlm · 2 days ago
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You Bring Me Closer to God pt4
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Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man. 
Physical Sex: AMAB. 
How far are things going?: Just some flirting from each of the men! The next post will explore the dreams they have about the reader. I’ll also try to fit in a sweet moment if I can. If anyone has ideas about what each man might be into, let me know—your suggestions really help my writing! 
Warnings: I feel this is a bit rushed, so I'm sorry about that!!
Outline: As the readers begin to understand who these men are, he struggles with the fear he feels he should have, but instead, he feels the urge to shelter and care for these outlaws. Arthur comes in tonight to share what's on his mind, and his behavior shifts slightly. 
What inspired me to write this is: the awful priest romance book I picked up. 
Other: Yes, this is a harem fic! Each man desires you and lays it on pretty thick! The dreams they have about reader will be it's own post!!
Part 1 2 3 4
There was no alone time with you and the man who greeted you after your nap. A small sigh of relief went unnoticed by everyone as you scanned the room. The church hadn't been this full since you started working here in Valentine. You felt somewhat nervous at the number of people; for many years, it had been just you and the occasional visitors who stumbled by while you cooked, along with Mickey when he'd show up again.
Mary-Beth led Karen and Tilly to the back room, where Sister Agnes had set up books and other activities for when she stopped by. They were giggling all the way and waved to you.
Hosea sat at a table with Javier and Kieran, exchanging small talk. The smell of cigarettes was slight in the air. Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, causing you to jump slightly. Your heart racing, you placed a hand against your chest and turned to find Charles standing there.
“Oh! Hello, Mister Smith! You startled me,” you laughed off your brief fright, the sound a little breathless. 
“I brought you this; I thought you could use it tonight.” His other hand held out a carefully wrapped package, thick cream-colored paper cradled in his large hand. You took it from his hand, unwrapping it to reveal beautiful red meat.
 His hand lingered on your shoulder, warming you with his touch. His proximity gave you a small, unexpected thrill. Perhaps he was just being polite, but the moment felt charged, and a flutter of something deeper stirred within you.
“This will work beautifully, Mr. Smith. Thank you for the generous donation,” you said, placing your hand gently atop his warm one resting on your shoulder. It felt electric, and you were sure no one had noticed the intentions behind your action; just paying the favor back and getting to touch Charles was just a plus.
“Father (Name), do you need any help with dinner?” Kieran perked up, his eyes almost pleading to help. He had asked so many times that you started to think he was a busybody, always needing to do something, even when relaxing. Charles's hand left your shoulder, landing at his side as you thought about a possible job for Kieran. 
“Sure, Mister Duffy, could you wash off the potatoes?” You suggested, trying to quickly distract from the lingering warmth of Charles still spreading through you. Practically leaping into action, Kieran grabbed the sack from the ground and moved it to the medium-sized sink the church had installed. 
The bison chuck settled on the counter as you bent slightly to guide Kieran through washing potatoes. Your fingertips brushed against his hand when you noticed him struggling to keep hold of the potatoes. 
If looks could kill, Kieran would've been six feet under weeks ago, but especially now, there would be fresh dirt on his grave as each man observed the subtle touches of your hands over Kieran and how the sides of your hips were pressed together. 
You explained how to peel the potatoes without cutting his hands, and it suddenly dawned on you that you weren't wearing your cooking apron! There was no way you'd risk dirtying your cassock by unconsciously wiping your hands on it. The skirt of your cassock slightly lifted as you spun to grab your apron. 
You pulled the fabric and admired it. You had it for many years, and it was a faded gingham pattern in your favorite color. Your hands, like clockwork, tied the apron behind your back with no complication. “You’re a capable man, Kieran; I’ll work on the bison now.” 
“Of course, Father (name)!”
The cream-colored paper crinkled in your hands as you fully unwrapped it. You couldn’t help but admire the chunk of meat; the color was beautiful. Of course, you’d seen meat fresh off the bone living in Valentine, but bison wasn’t processed here. Any time it was donated or brought into town, it was when an outside vendor stopped through. 
Your trustee skillet pan was heating up on the stove for a pan sear cooking of the meat.
Looking at the thickness of the meat and the number of people, you could fry it in quarter-inch slices to have plenty of extra. The knives in the church had never been the sharpest, and you had put off sharpening them for so long that the task was tedious. But when the knife slid effortlessly through the meat, as though cutting through silk, you couldn't help but smile in surprise.
The idle chat behind you continued as you worked; the chatter helped you work. Most nights were silent, and while it was nice to have a peaceful night, a room full of people and talking was more than welcome. Had Father Gavin taken the time to sharpen them for you?
The sound of voices behind you swirled softly in the background, blending with the rhythm of your work. Most nights, the kitchen's silence would settle, a peaceful solitude, but tonight, the hum of conversation felt like a warm embrace. You welcomed it even more than you expected.
“Ay Father (Name), are the knives working better? You guys had them so dull.” Javier's voice was much closer than the seat he was previously in as he crossed his arms and leaned next to you. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had done this, Mister Escuella! I had been putting off sharpening them for so long I thought Father Gavin had taken care of it for me.” Javier glared for a moment, upset and almost offended that his efforts would’ve gone to the likes of Gavin. 
“When you left this morning, I thought I might as well clean them up for you.”
 His attention to knives shouldn’t have been surprising when you remembered his scarred hands—the small cut scars littering his fingers. You looked at your hands, cutting the meat, comparing them with Javier's. It looked like you had never done a day's work, even if that was the farthest thing from the truth. 
His presence made you nervous, as you were almost done cutting the meat strips. You were sure the knife was sharper after Javier had worked his magic than when you first purchased it. You placed a pot on another burner, tossing in some salt and waiting for it to boil to make mashed potatoes. 
Four pieces of meat could fit in the pan, with butter and a few herbs to taste. The pan's smell quickly mixed in the air, overtaking the tobacco scent that filled the room. 
"You’ve got a way with food," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. "Doesn’t just come from a recipe book, does it?" You flipped the meat in the pan. 
“Well, in seminary school, I had free time to work with the nuns for a few cents a day, picked up some things from them, and showed me plenty of cooking tips and methods. To keep the most people fed and satisfied!” you glanced up at him. “It’s like pouring a little piece of your heart into every dish. I think that’s what makes my food taste good.” Javier raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to think before speaking. “So, that means you taste good?” You stumbled over your words, “I… I’m just saying that the food is made with love. It brings people together,” your voice flustered.
 As you moved to stir the herbs into the pan, Javier’s eyes were fixed on you, the warmth radiating between you both palpable. “It brings us together,” Hosea mused behind you. You peeked over to see him smiling softly. Your eyes returned to the stove as you finally saw the pot boiling harshly. 
“Oh! Kieran, how are the potatoes?” You left the meat to cook to join Kieran at the cutting board. A slight grin was on his face as he showed that he was practically done washing and peeling. 
“Great job, Kieran! You did amazing for the first time you’ve done this.” You took a different knife from the drawer and easily sliced through the potatoes, cutting them in fours as you added them to the pot. 
The rest of the cooking went smoothly, roasting carrots with rosemary and thyme sprinkled on them and mashed potatoes with butter, ground salt, and pepper. Of course, the meat was the main attraction; it had all your focus as you plated each meal.
The women, especially Karen and Mary Beth, came out of the room commenting on the smell. They insisted that it practically lured them out as they stood and waited to make a plate. 
“Here you ladies go!” You handed each woman a plate with a big smile. They looked at you, stunned. “Wow, thank you, Father (Name)! What a gentleman!” Tilly had a big smile as she turned to sit in the pews. “Those fools could learn a thing or two!” Mary-Beth and Karen followed, paying you their compliments and following to sit in the pews as well. Mary-Beth whispered, ‘See! I told y’all things would be changing for us women!’ 
You were always polite, or at least tried to be regarding food. Whoever ate first depended on the guests you had. If there were children, they got their meal first, then women, then men. No matter what you ate last, you knew where to find a hot meal you could afford. You didn’t know if the people who came in also had that guarantee.
You sat a plate in front of Hosea, a slight thump against the table before you spoke, “Is Dutch not joining us tonight?” Hosea placed a cloth napkin over his thigh. You smiled, turning to pray over your food before digging in.
“I don’t think so; he wandered back to camp with Arthur after mass.” Your heart leaped into your throat. Eyes snapping open to your clasped hands over your chest. Your whole body was tense; it couldn’t be Arthur; indeed, Arthur was just a common name. It was so common that there were two separate newcomers with different names. One with affiliation with a gang passing through town and the other… you couldn’t even kid yourself. 
You were feeding, housing, and even dreaming of these violent outlaws. The ones in Arthur’s stories, the ones you heard horrifying tales about. Part of you knew how you could not subconsciously connect the dots. 
You knew who these men were, but that made no difference in how you should treat them. They were men like you, and in this building, you wouldn't treat them like criminals; they get enough of that everywhere else. 
A nervousness stirred in your stomach. Yes, you would treat them like normal men. Knowing their history, you should have been running for the hills. It was foolish to think you’d somehow be safe. But your feet were planted firmly, unmoving. Running from these men who had done nothing to harm you went against everything you had been taught. You couldn’t contradict the lessons you learned in your twenties.
You were the biggest fool. 
But Arthur’s proximity and your complete ignorance of him made you feel naked and exposed. Had he seen you as you walked through town, down by the river, or at the saint's hotel? Had he watched you perform mass? Was he someone you had bumped into or waved at politely? 
Did he notice the flush on your face when Javier teased you or the innocent look of Kieran as he eyed you over? The thought that you could have been no more than five feet away from him, with no confessional wall between you, was overwhelming.
You stared at the counter, which was covered in patterns of blue and white tiles, a few sprinkled with swirls and flowers. “Aw well, that’s… too bad. I hope they can join us soon!” Your hands unclasped as you reached for your plate. The plate was warm in your hands as you sat at the table between Kieran and Charles. 
The potatoes practically melted in your mouth, and the fresh bison paired delightfully with the roasted carrots. There was a hum of bliss next to you as Hosea took his first bite. 
You felt something against your boots. Taking a subtle glance down, you noticed Charles's boot against yours. The knees were not quite touching, but they were close—not enough to draw anyone else's attention. 
“Thank you again, Mister Smith. Without the meat, I’m not sure what I could’ve come up with today!” Charles waved his hand between bites, “I’m sure you could’ve come up with something without me.” 
You wiped your mouth, “Nonsense! And thank you, Mister Duffy. It’s very kind of you to offer to help me so often.” Halfway through his food, Kieran's big, wide eyes sparkled at the compliment. 
He smiled and said, You're welcome, the smile never leaving his face. “Of course, Javier, thank you for checking and sharpening the knives! Very thoughtful.” 
Tilly entered the kitchen doorway with a nervous look, holding her plate. “Father (Name), is there any extra food?” Mary-Beth peeked over Tilly’s shoulder, and your heart swelled with happiness.
“Of course there is! Let me help you with that.” You reached for Tilly’s plate, standing up to serve her. The metal plate felt cold, and you noticed a few bites of bison fat left, which you scraped off before preparing a new serving for Tilly.
Mary Beth held out her plate, which had two carrots remaining. You chuckled as you saw the small line behind her, including Karen and Kieran.
As the evening went on, everyone began to yawn and sway with sleepiness. They bid you goodnight and took their leave, but not before you packed the leftover food for the road. The bison from Charles was more than enough, and you knew they would make better use of the leftovers as a group than you could as one person.
After everyone had left, the kitchen fell into a quiet stillness. The only sounds were the soft clinking of utensils being cleaned in the sink and your gentle humming.
You heard the bell ringing—a sign that someone had entered the confessional booth.
Footsteps echoed softly across the hardwood floor. With quiet resolve, you prepared yourself for the visit. The door of the confessional booth creaked with a groan as it clicked open and shut, and you settled onto the grim wood of the booth. You had always intended to buy cushions to soften the harshness of the bench. The only reason you hadn’t sooner was a particularly stern bishop from your past had insisted that the discomfort served a higher purpose in God’s favor, that making the sinner uncomfortable was part of the process. It left a bitter taste in your mouth when he would say that.
“Good evening, Father,” came a familiar voice solemn in tone. “Good evening, Mister Morgan. “What brings you in tonight?” you replied, noting the subtle pause that followed and the rustling of paper that broke the silence.
“I know a man who lends money,” he continued, his voice weary. “He sends me to collect for him, and it doesn’t feel right. The people I’m taking from—sick, desperate, foolish—it's foul work. I hate doing it.”
His confession hung in the air, heavy with regret. You remained silent for a moment, allowing his words to settle into the quiet of the booth before responding gently, “Did something happen with this job recently that made you bring it up to me now?”
“I went to collect from a man here in town,” Arthur's voice cracked with the weight of shame. “Thomas Downes… I went to collect, but by the time I got there, he was already dead.” The mention of Thomas made your heart drop. You had known him—kind, humble, though proud to a fault. The thought of his death made your stomach churn. You and the church had tried to help him in the past, but he’d refuse most days. He only took food and necessities offered to him when he couldn’t find another way. 
“I felt relief when I found him dead,” Arthur's voice wavered, “Relief that his debt was no longer a burden on his family or me. But then I saw his boy, and... the look in his eyes, Father... like I was the devil himself. I guess, to him, I was.”
“Death can throw any of us in a spiral. Reminds us we can die at any time.” You’d seen plenty of death; the cemetery was just outside your door. The funerals and wakes you'd oversee through the years were in high numbers for a small town. “I was just surprised, I guess, Father; I’d seen him before when I was out drinkin’ would’ve killed that Tommy if not for him.” 
“That was you, Mister Morgan? You’re the pretty boy who beat Big Tommy?!” 
“Pretty boy? That's the part you heard about?” You could hear the pout in Arthurs's voice as you laughed. “All I heard from Miss Walker and Miss Moore was that some new rough and tough dream boat in town fought him. Never would’ve guessed it was you, Arthur.” Your tone was teasing. You felt bold and almost breathless when you could make such a comment.
“Arthur? We’re on a first-name basis now (Name)?” A small huff left your mouth. An odd duality existed with you and your title. Of course, it was one you had worked for and earned. Hearing it was nothing new. But it seemed you'd be flustered and stumbling no matter how Arthur said it. 
“Names have a way of changing things, don’t they?” Arthur’s voice was low, almost intimate now, as if he’d allowed the walls between you to slip just a little. You felt the change, too—how the conversation shifted from heavy confessions to something lighter yet somehow more meaningful.
“It does,” you replied softly. “Guess that means we're not just strangers anymore,” he said, and despite the weight of his words, there was a certain warmth in his tone, as if he was testing the idea, letting it settle between you both. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a gentle tug in your chest. 
“I suppose it does.” Your voice was softer than before, a softness you didn’t often allow yourself. The formality of your position—the title that had defined you for so long—felt less significant now, like something that could be quietly set aside in light of this connection.
“Is anything else happening recently?” you asked, remembering when you shared a booth with Arthur. Back then, his stories were filled with a rougher edge—tales of picking fights or provoking trouble. But today felt different; he had two stories to share. The first was light-hearted—he went hunting with a friend, likely Charles, given the mention of bison. And how he heard of a friend who he thought was dead being very much alive but in custody. 
“I hope he makes it home safe; being stuck in a cell is horrible!” You didn’t want to ask how he’d be home when Arthur said he wouldn’t come by tomorrow. 
“What were you up to in town today (Name)? I saw you leaving the hotel in a hurry.” you shifted in your seat, hearing the slight scratch of a pencil on Arthurs's side of the booth. 
“I went to have a bath and get my sheet cleaned! I ended up enjoying the bath far too much and was almost late for mass.” You sighed. You knew the others in the church didn’t mind you finally taking time for yourself, but it felt rude when people were there expecting to see you. 
“I have been to that hotel a few times, rent it out for a night to sleep in a real bed.” You hummed, noting that he didn’t have a ‘real bed.’ 
“Speakin’ of I must get goin’ (Name) duty calls.” there was a soft ripping noise under Arthur's low voice. 
“Goodnight, Arthur. Be safe out there.” 
“Goodnight (Name).”
You stalled behind in the booth, taking in the small noises around you. Arthur's retreating steps as he left. The chirping of crickets just outside of the church, and if you strained your hearing, you could slightly hear the piano from the saloon playing a happy tune. 
The confessional door swinging open cut through the air. The hinges were so squeaky these days. There was a flutter from behind the door. When you shut the door entirely, you saw a folded paper on the floor. It was a thick piece of paper you tucked into your hands. Retreating to your room before opening it.
There was a drawing of you. You gasped softly, your breath hitching in your throat, and your fingers traced the delicate lines of your features on the paper. You were careful not to smudge anything, treating the artwork with the reverence it deserved. 
It was as if someone had taken a photo of you without your knowledge. The shading in the drawing made you look soft against the buildings. Taking in more of the art, you saw Arthur's signature at the bottom. A.M. and a small heart at the bottom of the M. 
Warmth bloomed in your stomach as you sat on your bed, still admiring the drawing. You put the drawing on your bedside table and tuck yourself into bed. The heavy quilt over your body adds a comforting pressure. 
You were giddy as you slipped into sleep. Imagine the drawing over and over again in your head.
The usual nighttime routines began on the other side of the train tracks on Horseshoe Outlook. Some were sitting by the fire, picking at Pearson's overcooked food, others were playing at the poker table, and some were aimlessly wandering around, getting ready for bed. 
Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen sat around the campfire with Charles and Javier. Dutches music is playing nearby. 
“When I was around town today, I heard something interesting about that Father (Name).” Every man glanced over, the game of dominos stopping momentarily between Hosea and Arthur. Javier's strumming slowed, and Charles continued to work on his arrows with Kieran.
“Don’t tell me, is he some sort of evil man under that little cape he wears?” Karen laughed, taking a swig from her beer bottle. Tilly waved her hand, laughing, “Well, Mary-Beth and I thought it was bizarre how there are hardly any people at the church, even for free food. We asked these few men at the saloon, and apparently, when Father (Name) first came to Valentine, he very much preferred the company of men.”
Heads perked up, “What kind of men?” Kieran's voice sounded too excited as the question left his lips. 
“See, now that’s the thing—we were hearing all kinds of different answers! Some said a fellow altar boy came with him to Valentine; others claimed it was the former bishop.” Mary-Beth interrupted Tilly: “But then I started hearing it was some handsome ranchhand, a stable boy, or some sort of traveler or hunter he was seen sneaking around with.” Tilly cut back in, “A few of the fellows in the saloon were sayin’ it was men who went to the church; he’d put moves on them during mass, married or not!” 
“And he didn’t mind swaying his hips for older men, neither!" Their voices began overlapping as they dropped information. “I think I heard he’d even flirt with the rich men in town into donating more money!” “One of the workin’ ladies said she heard of him takin’ in men down on their luck for “Favors.””Mary Beth used her fingers to do quotes. 
“Now, there's no way girls as smart as you believe that.” Arthurs's voice broke the silence, “You’ve met the man who practically bends backward to help anyone. Could’ve been a misunderstanding!” Mary-Beth clicked her tongue, “Well, true or not, people in town haven’t forgotten about it.” the fire crackled, leaving everyone in their thoughts. Each man couldn’t believe what they heard; there was no way you were capable of it. At least at your age now. But for you to do it 20 years ago? Well, they just didn’t know you then. 
The most they knew about you from 20 years ago was the photograph of you and other church members when you first arrived. You aged fairly well, and your serious face in the photo didn’t scream that you were some deviant at the time.
Everyone turned in for the night, tucking themselves in, but sleep would be restless for the men of the camp, each of them plagued by an odd dream….
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l3m0nteeth · 2 days ago
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So bout that friend from a while back who kept making sexual jokes about me even though she knows I’m aroace and has been explicitly asked multiple times to stop!!!
yeah she hasn’t stopped. Instead she’s been blowing the comments off and saying I need to take a joke and that I’m overreacting :(
anyway today was finally the breaking point. She said “you seem like the kind of person, where if same sex marriage was ever illegal, you’d marry a gay man(implying he would secretly date a guy and I would secretly date a girl)” I replied to her saying no I wouldn’t do that because I’m aroace and that would have literally no benefit for me and she decided to respond by saying “well yeah but maybe you’d fall in love”
I’ve bee open about being aroace with her for about 3 or 4 years now. Until now she’s been making mostly sexual comments and jokes and I guess I never really felt to bad about them and was able to make myself forget it because anything involving sex kinda feels fake to me but idk this was the breaking point. Her implying that I’m wrong about myself and that I will fall in love someday (Ik it’s not exactly what the quote said but based on our past and other factors I know this is what she’s thinking)
what really broke me tho was afterwards another friend came up to me (she said this at our lunch table in front of many other people who also know I’m aroace and didn’t react at all) and talked to me bout it. I’m actually so so grateful they came up to me and told me what she did wasn’t right and that they’d noticed all the other times she’s said things like this. And idk I was holding back tears
Up until now no one has ever really acknowledged what she’s been saying or anything so having someone actually do that and agree with me that she should not be acting like that… idk it meant a lot to me. They hugged me and asked if I wanted them to talk to her about it and I just felt so cared for ig? Idk I’m really grateful for all they said
Anyway the point of this post was to say I’m going to try and talk to her one more time tomorrow and try to explain why I don’t like these comments and how she’s being homophobic and try to explain more in depth ig that I’m not only aroace but also romance and sex repulsed
So wish me luck and if you have any advice pls share ty for listening to my ranting <3
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