#cutting it close on this one but i have not had the time to write today

[felassan]

EuroGamer: 'BioWare knew the deepest secrets of Dragon Age lore 20 years ago, and locked it away in an uber-plot doc'

Original creator David Gaider on how "some of the big mysteries are being solved".

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"As I write about the secrets hidden in Dragon Age's mysterious Fade, and as I uncover some of them playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard, one question keeps rising up in my mind. How much did BioWare know about future events when first developing the series more than 20 years ago? That's a long time, and back then BioWare didn't know there would be a second game, which is why Dragon Age: Origins has an elaborate and far-reaching epilogue. Why lay so much lore-track ahead of yourself if you don't think you'll ever get there? But look more closely at Origins and there are big clues suggesting BioWare did know about future Dragon Age events. There are obvious signs in the original game, such as establishing recurring themes like Old Gods and the Blight and Archdemons. But there's also Flemeth, Morrigan's witchy mother, who's intimately linked to events in the series now - more specifically: intimately linked to Solas. Does her existence mean Solas was known about back then too? There's only one person I can think of to answer this and it's David Gaider, the original creator of Dragon Age's world and lore. We've talked before, once in a podcast and once for a piece on the magic of fantasy maps, where we discussed the creation of Dragon Age's world. And much to my surprise, when I ask him what he and the BioWare team knew back then, he says they knew it all. "By the time we released Dragon Age: Origins, we were basically sure that it was one and done, but there was, back when we made the world, an overarching plan," he says. "The way I created the world was to seed plots in various parts of the world that could be part of a game, a single game, and then there was the overall uber-plot, which I didn't know for certain that we would ever get to but I had an understanding of how it all worked together. "A lot of that was in my head until we were starting Inquisition and the writers got a little bit impatient with my memory or lack thereof, so they pinned me down and dragged the uber-plot out of me. I'd talked about it, I'd hinted at it, but never really spelled out how it all connected, so they dragged it out of me, we put it into a master lore doc, the secret lore, which we had to hide from most of the team.""

"This uber-plot document was only viewable on a need-to-know basis, he says, and only around 20 people on the team had access to it - other senior writers mostly. And even though Gaider left the Dragon Age team after Inquisition, and then eight years ago BioWare altogether, meaning he didn't work on The Veilguard at all, he believes - by looking at the events in the new game - his uber-plot lore "has more or less held up". That's impressive. What's even more impressive, or exciting, is that back then he also envisaged a potential end state for the entire Dragon Age series - a point at which it would make no sense for the series to carry on. "I always had this dream of where it would all end, the very last plot," he says, "which I won't say because who knows, we could still end up there. But the idea that this uber-plot was this sort of biggest, finite... That the final thing you could do in this world that would break it was there as a 'maybe we would get to do that one day'... There was just the idea of certain big, world-shaking things that were seeded in that arc, some of which have already come to pass, like the return of Fen'Harel." You've read that correctly: the idea to have Fen'Harel, also known as the Dread Wolf, reappear, was seeded all the way back then, way before Inquisition - the game in which he does actually reappear. But the concept for Solas, as a character who was Fen'Harel in disguise, was a newer idea. "That spawned from a conversation I had with Patrick [Weekes] and a number of other writers," Gaider says, "as an idea of 'what if you had a villain that spent an entire game where he's actually in the party and you get to know him?' Now, the god version and his larger role in the plot, yes that was known, but not that he would be presented as a character named Solas." Fen'Harel being known about means the other elven gods were known about, which means all of that stuff Solas reveals about his godly siblings - that they're not gods at all but evil elven mages he locked away behind the Veil - was known about back then too. "Oh yeah," Gaider says. "Everything that Solas tells you [at the end of Inquisition DLC, Trespasser]: it's all part of that original uber-lore - that was all in our mind." But why have so much lore if you're not certain you'll get to ever realise it? Well, to create a believable illusion. By creating an "excess" of lore, as Gaider describes it, Origins made Thedas feel like an old and believable place. A place with history, rather than a Western set that was all facade and no substance."

"BioWare also did something canny with the lore it did relay then, too: it shared it through the voices of characters living in the world, making it inherently fallible. In doing this, Dragon Age veiled its truths behind biases. The church-like organisation of the Chantry proclaims one truth, while the elves and dwarves proclaim another. Sidenote: you can experience this yourself through different racial origin stories in Dragon Age: Origins. This way, there's no one, objective, irrefutable, truth. "To get the truth, you kind of have to pick between the lines," Gaider says. So even though elven legends are coming true through the existence of Solas and The Veilguard's antagonist gods, it doesn't mean that's the one and only truth. There's truth in what the Chantry teaches and what the dwarves say, he tells me, which ignites my curiosity intensely. BioWare has also been tricksy in how it's rubbed out the lore the further back in time you go. "In general, the further the history goes back, we always would purposefully obfuscate it more and more," Gaider says - "make it more biased and more untrue no matter who was talking, just so that the absolute truth was rarely knowable. I like that idea from a world standpoint, that the player always has to wonder and bring their own beliefs to it." It leads into a founding principle of Dragon Age, which is doubt - because without it, you can't have faith, a particularly important concept in the series. It's where the whole idea of the Chantry's Maker comes from and with it, the legend about the fabled Golden City - now the Black City - at the heart of the Fade. This is the very centre of the lore web, and, I imagine, it's close to the series endpoint Gaider imagined long ago. All secrets end there. Did Gaider know what was in the Black City when he laid down Origins' lore? That's the question - and it startles me how casually he answers this. "Oh, yeah," he says. "What was in the Black City: that's the uber-plot. I knew exactly. "Was it as detailed in the first draft of the world?" he goes on. "No. I had an idea of the early history because that's where I started making the world. So the things that were true early-early: I knew exactly what the Black City was and the idea of what the elves believed, and what humans believed vis-a-vis the Chantry - that was all settled on really early. Then I expanded the world and the uber-plot bubbled out of that.""

"Gaider shows me the original cosmology design document for Dragon Age: Origins as if to prove this - or rather for the game that would become DAO. The world was known as Peldea back then. I can't share this with you because I see it via a shared screen on a video call, and because Gaider doesn't want me to, mostly because the ideas are so old they're almost unrecognisable from what's in the series now. But I can tell you it's a document that's just over a page in length, and that there's a circular diagram at the top showing the world in the middle and the spirit realm ringed around it. And on that document is reference to the Chantry's beliefs about a God located in a citadel that can be found there. Gaider says BioWare knew about Fen'Harel (the Dread Wolf) 20 years ago when it was developing Dragon Age: Origins, and that he'd one day reappear. The Fade wasn't known as the Fade back then, either, but as the Dreaming, because it's the place people go when they dream - an idea that lives on still. And if that sounds familiar to any fans of The Sandman among you, it should. "I'd say The Sandman series was probably fairly prominently in my head," says Gaider. "I liked that amorphous geography that was born from the psyche of collective humanity. I'd say yes, if I was to point at something specifically, that's probably where the very first inspiration of it took root." It's a lot to take in, but it reinforces the admiration I have for Dragon Age. Just as I have when hearing about the creation of my other favourite fantasy worlds, such as A Song of Ice and Fire, I begin to understand the magnitude - and the deliberateness - of the plotting that went on. I wonder if one day the Dragon Age series will end in the way Gaider first imagined, albeit slightly altered by the many other pairs of hands shepherding it along now. What a curious feeling it must be to know, so many years in advance, where things might go. Where that end is, I don't know, but I do know we'll take a significant step towards it in The Veilguard. After all, we're coming into contact with gods who were there at the recorded beginning of it all. "Yeah - we have access to people who can tell us the truth from first-hand experience," Gaider says, "although again, it depends on what the writers did with it. But if they continued the tradition of Dragon Age, you never know for sure if Solas is telling you everything, or what you're learning is the entire truth. "But yes, some of the big mysteries are being solved. I mean, will they one day definitively tell you about the Maker? Will we crack the big mysteries of the world and just make them answered finally? And does that ruin one of the central precepts that Dragon Age is founded upon? Maybe," he says. "Ultimately, that lore, when you make it big and you hint at it and hint at it and hint at it, it becomes a Chekhov's Gun of sorts. Eventually you got to pony up.""

[source]

[nightxcreature]

Do You Wanna Touch Me?

18+ ONLY

Summary: Part Two to Hotblooded, Reader can't help herself. She needs Dean anyway she can get him.

Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Spice, Dirty Talk

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

A/N: wow. I did not expect that last one to get so much love and attention! Thank you all for being so kind! This is only my second ? time writing smut, so I hope it meets your expectations. I may keep this one going for at least one more part if you guys are interested. :) As always, comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

do not copy and share my work anywhere, you don't have permission.

I had been trying to fall asleep for hours now, and yet here I lay, half naked and clinging to a pillow for dear life. The ingredients in my drink from earlier were still running their course through my system and had left me panting at the mere thought of Dean. I’d rid myself of my T-shirt before Sam had even left my room, heat emanating from my body at a rapid pace. Sam had awkwardly averted his gaze before locking me in and reminding me that I should feel better after I rest. And yet even hours later, I feel like I’ll die if I don’t see Dean soon, speak to him, touch him…

                I groan as I shift to snag my phone from the nightstand, my hips rolling deliciously against the pillow below me. Feral thoughts of the hunter a few doors down rack my brain and I quickly pull up his contact before pressing the call button. His ringtone echoes down the hall from where I assume he is in the library before he answers.

                “Hey, Darlin’,” His voice alone causes my heart to race, a gasp leaving my lips, “Are you okay?”

                I shuffle to straddle the pillow below me as he speaks, the worry for me in his voice sending me into a frenzy, “No. I need you.” I practically cry into the speaker, “Need you so bad.”

                He sighs deeply and I can hear papers shuffling in the background, “You should be asleep, Sweetheart.”

                “Can’t sleep.” I mumble, rolling my hips against the pillow as he speaks, “Can only think about you. I don’t think I’ll think of anything else ever again.”

                “I’m trying to find something to help make it easier for you, I’m sorry.” He whispers, papers shuffling again, “I promise, it’s got to wear off eventually.”

                I let out a frustrated sound, my bottom lip jutting out as I whine, “I’m going to die in here! I’m going to die from needing you so bad and you wont even come in here to help me.”

                “I can’t come help you, Baby. It’s not you that’s asking for this.” He whispers and I can hear the frustration in his voice. One part of me is yelling for me to shut up, to hang up the phone and go to bed, try to somehow go to sleep and forget this ever happened…but the other part of me is ravenous, feral for the man on the other end of the line, and she is not going to lose this battle without a fight.

                “It’s your job to help people, Dean.” I cry out, a low blow I know, but the desperation coursing through my veins won’t let up, “Are you really going to leave me here like this?”

                “Don’t do that.” He growls out, “I told you before that we could talk about this when you’re not drunk off some god-level fuck juice. I want to talk about this. I do want to help you, but I won’t go in that room.”

                His take-no-shit tone goes straight to my core, which I know is the exact opposite of what he’s looking for, but I can’t stop imagining the firm look on his face as he scolds me. My hips roll quicker, a ravenous feeling overtaking my thoughts, “Please keep talking.” I whisper as my eyes close. I hear his breathing hitch, but he doesn’t speak for a moment, and I bite my lip nervously. Did I make him upset? I don’t think I can live with myself if he’s upset with me, “I’m sorry, I didn’t-.”

                “Don’t apologize.” He cuts me off quickly, “What are you doing?”

                Embarrassment should flood my system, but the idea of being caught getting off to his voice just spurs me on. I lift off the pillow to roll my shorts down my legs and then position myself over it again, “What do you think I’m doing?” I whisper seductively into the speaker. Hoping, practically praying, that he knows and he’ll throw whatever righteousness he has left out the window to come help me reach my goal. Sweat pours down my forehead and a heaviness sits in my hips, I rut against the pillow again to try and alleviate the feeling, a small moan leaving my lips as I do.

                The rough sound of his chair sliding across the library floor and his heavy boots thudding as he walks stills me. I sit with bated breath listening to the sound through the phone, waiting to hear him outside my door, “Where are you going?”

                I hear him chuckle quietly before his voice finally graces my ear again, “Where do you think I’m going?” I hear his boots come to a stop, but no sound comes from the hallway in front of my room.

                I groan in frustration, rutting against the pillow isn’t bringing the amount of relief that my body needs and the thought of Dean not being here to help me brings a sinking feeling in my stomach, “Where are you?”

                A door clicks closed on his end before he speaks, “What are you wearing?” He whispers gruffly, sending a shock to my core. I stay quiet for a moment before he whispers a bit softer, “You told me to keep talking. I won’t come in that room with you, but I am going to help you. Now, what are you wearing?”

                Though he can’t see me, I nod quickly and glance down to my torso. Thankful for the black lace panty set cladding my body so I don’t have to lie…I don’t think I could lie to him right now, “My underwear.” I whisper, holding my breath while I wait for him to speak again, “It’s black and lacy and I think you’d really like it.”

                He groans quietly and I can hear him lay down on what I assume is his own bed, “I’d like to see that.”

                “Come here and you can.” My breathing is heavy, anticipation building throughout me as I beg him, “Please.”

                “Please? You gonna beg me, Sweetheart?” He whispers lowly, the teasing tone spurs me on and I roll my hips against the pillow again, moaning louder as I do. I hear him suck in a breath before he continues, “Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

“Touch me. Please, touch me.” I cry out, “I need you all over me.”

                He chuckles darkly, “I can’t right now, can I? But, you can.”

 At his words my hips stutter, I glance down at the pillow as I slide back toward my headboard, “You want me to…”

“Touch yourself, Baby. Where do you want my hands?” His voice is low as he instructs me and I dust the hand not holding my phone across my chest as I listen to his breathing, “Where do you want me to touch you?”

 “Everywhere. My chest, my legs, my….” I gasp as my fingertips rub over my clothed nipples; eyes still closed, I imagine his fingers being the ones ghosting across my frame.

I can practically hear the smile on his face when he speaks again, his voice quiet and heavy, “Yeah, I wanna touch you there, too. I can’t stop thinking about the things I want to do to you.”

“What else do you want to do to me?” I whisper, my hands making their way down my body at a slow pace. I play with the hem of my panties, imagining it’s his thick fingers there teasing me as he speaks slowly into my ear.

“I wanna spend all day between your legs, Baby. Wanna fuck you so good, you forget your name.” He whispers huskily, his breathing is heavier and I almost cum at the thought that he must be touching himself, too. I slide my hand into my panties and moan breathlessly at the feeling of relief that rushes my system. I circle my fingers around my opening, brushing my fingertips over the bud at the apex every so often

                “You drive me crazy,” I groan, throwing my head back against the headboard as I picture his face between my thighs and all the filthy noises he would be making while he eats me, “I need more. You make me so wet.”

                He curses into the speaker and I can hear his breathing quicken, “Take off your clothes.” The harshness in his voice causes my eyes to snap open and rushes me to strip bare faster than I ever have. I remain quiet as I lay alone, listening to his rapid breathing on the other end of the line, “You want me to fuck you, Baby?”

                I nod dumbly before realizing that he still can’t see me and quickly recover, “Yes.”

                “I want you on your hands and knees. Arch your back and touch yourself.” I nod again, rolling quickly to my hands and knees to do as he asks, “I can’t see you, Sweetheart. Are you listening to me?”

                “Yes, Sir.” I mumble as I rush to put the phone on speaker and roll my hips against my fingers, “I’m listening.”

                “Good girl.” He replies, chuckling as I moan at the name, “You like that?”

                “Yes. I love that.” I pant, rubbing faster against the bundle nerves between my thighs. My eyes roll back at the feeling and I try my best to focus on Dean’s voice as he continues to talk me through this.

                “All those little sounds your making are getting me so hard, Darlin’. I can’t stop thinking about how good you must feel, about how good I’d make you feel.” His husky whispers sends my imagination into overdrive as I raise up to sit on my heels. A single finger sinks into me and I moan out at the relief, “I’ve been thinking about being inside you all day. Whatever you want me to do to you, I’d do it. I want to be so deep inside you.”

                My eyes roll at his words, my breathing becoming heavier and I barely hear him when he asks, “You close, Sweetheart? Want me to make you cum?” The teasing lilt in his voice urging my hands to move quicker, my fingers rushing in and out of my opening like lightening. My toes curl and my vision goes blurry as the orgasm crashes into me suddenly. His name leaves my lips like a prayer as I come down and I hear him grunt, whispering my name quietly against the phone speaker.

                My breathing is heavy when I finally speak, “Thank you.”

                He chuckles awkwardly and I can imagine the way a blush covers his cheeks when he replies, “No need to thank me, Darlin’. I think I got just as much out of this as you did.”

                I laugh a little in response, feeling the hint of a blush rising in my own cheeks. The relief I feel is insurmountable and I can feel exhaustion taking over my body in exchange for the rabid horniness from earlier. “Do you think this is over? The potion, I mean.” I ask, waiting for the intense feeling of want to return.

                “Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He mumbles, “If you need me again though, just call.”

                “Will do.” I reply, “We do have a lot to talk about when I’m feeling better though…”

                He laughs nervously before trying to hide it as a cough before agreeing, “Yeah, uh, we do.”

                “I’ll see you after my nap, Dean.” I answer with a slight smile, “And then we can see just how quickly I forget my name.”

                He snorts and I can hear the smirk in his voice, “Set a timer, Sweetheart, it won’t take long.”

______________________________________________________________

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[boobav]

Viktor this season has truly inspired me. I hope you all enjoy the various drabbles :) I'll try write more here.

The first time you met Viktor, you recall, the sun was shining.

The meeting was perfectly ordinary. Not even a meeting, really, seeing as you learnt his name a week later.

With a cool breeze, you ate your lunch in silence, head held to the sun as though a flower in bloom. You closed your eyes, breathed deep. Meditative perfection.

And when you reopened them, he was there.

Half-frozen in the doorway, he gazed at you with what seemed like surprise, at the time. Later you'd learn that he was, from his own words, mesmerised.

"Professor." He'd said in polite greeting, looking away. You smiled, but he left the way he came before any conversation could commence.

The next meeting, he was the one sat outside, silently pondering something. You'd found his expression of concentration endearing beyond words. The furrow of his brows, the occasional, unconscious movement of his lips. The way his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

The weather that afternoon, when you'd strolled over to properly introduce yourself to the man, was similarly bright. A perfect blue running across the sky. A songbird somewhere unseen, and the breeze defined by its almost supernatural ability to alleviate.

You weren't superstitious, nor did you believe in signs, an elusive, irrational concept. But with his presence offering as much warmth as the sun, with the way his eyes ran nervously from yours only to return, bound by some societal principal of politeness, with the way he tested your name on his tongue that cloudless day, you thought maybe there really was something to the concept. Some sign leading you to him.

"How about we get lunch sometime?" You hadn't exactly thought the offer out. But his smile alone was quick to convince you of the idea.

"Of course," Viktor said, "are you... free now?"

"I think I had something planned, but I seem to have forgotten all about it..."

-

For a few months, then, you re-learnt what it meant to be alive.

To meet someone so perfectly in tune with your every move seemed fantastical, seemed like a sign. You spent free weekends not hunched over a desk, stressed beyond articulation, but with Viktor. You learnt of his work, learnt of the pure brilliance that bloomed at the mere touch of his hands.

And you learnt every contour of those hands. Pressed your lips into the palms, into every scar and cut. A fleeting remedy, but one he grew unable to live without. For he, too, had to re-learn what it meant to be alive.

He felt astoundingly undeserving of what you seemed so willing to provide. More than love, but adoration. Something almost approaching worship. He felt the weakness of his own body so acutely with yours pressed against it, so terribly perfect. Whatever scar or mark you seemed to mention in distaste, he loved. He thought, maybe, that you were some kind of sign. That things would get better. That the traitor he called a body would recover or, at least, stop wilting away.

But nothing changed. Not really.

Learning of his illness wasn't a shock, because it wasn't a secret. Jayce mentioned it to you often. The real shock came on slow. Like a spider taking it's time to crawl up your spine. As the months passed, the extent of its deteriorating effect showed itself. Viktor's heart, weak against your own. The bags under his eyes darkening further, his pale skin sinking pallid.

Happiness is not something that lasts forever.

In fact, it seems to run from its owner more often than not. You think you're living in a state of euphoria, a state of perfection for so long, the way we were supposed to exist. You feel as though nothing could break this film of joy over your life, that you're somehow exempt from reality.

But you're not.

Overtime, Viktor shut himself off. He spent more and more time in the lab. He had very little to say. When you broke down, the only consolation he could offer was a quiet apology, mumbled from across the room.

You dreamt of consolation. Every night, from then on. Endless fields of restorative ideas. Endless ways to make him feel better, to be there for him even if he found the idea ludicrous.

Because why would you waste your time with him? He knows you're better off somewhere else, stretched out in the warm weather without a burden as heavy as him on your back. The pillar you were in his life, crumbled by his own hand. He deemed it necessary. Convinced himself so.

But what could you do?

You could barely comprehend his struggle. How could you even begin to ease it?

This thought process kept you from physically seeking this dream of yours. A warning sign from your mind, a psychological guard rail which, in reality, only protected you from yourself. All these flowery ideas of reconciliation, bouquets of roses and trays of baked goods in your mind, and yet, you did nothing.

The attack on the council made sure that you'd never have the chance.

Jayce had been the one to tell you. Tell you that among the victims was the dream gifted to you every night, the man you viewed as an inseparable extension of yourself. And when you visited, stared up at whatever the hexcore was doing to Viktor, you felt an unparalleled hatred.

For yourself, for your failings and shortcomings. Every time a word came out wrong. Every time a day ended in silence.

Rising tensions, blood on the city streets. Soon, you had nothing left in Piltover besides a few shattered friends.

So you left.

-

Of course, you felt that you'd never see Viktor again.

Even if somehow he survived the critical condition he lay struggling in, you convinced yourself that he wouldn't want to speak to you. Perhaps out of self preservation. Perhaps out of genuine belief.

A knock at the door was already uncommon. And, certainly, a knock that specific. Gentle, apprehensive. You stumbled out of bed with an undeniable sense of neuroticism, convincing yourself of the knocks familiarity whilst simultaneously convincing yourself of your own delusion.

But, there he was.

Wrapped in a robe, which to you appeared regal, the blue sky beyond framing his pale face, was Viktor. A songbird carried the news, then another, but your words seemed inadequate compared to theirs.

He raises a hand to cup your face, the flesh replaced with something firm, something running with a strength he himself barely comprehends.

You place a kiss on his palm.

[millersfinest]

can u make some like generic dating ellie headcannons? (tlou universe preferably)

i love ur writing sm!!

dating ellie williams ◡̈

cw: usual fluff, mentioned love languages, mention of joel’s death (i wanted to be as canon as possible), a little nsfw but nothing too crazy.

note: here are some semi-ooc ellie hc’s!! i feel like im so bad at headcanons, but here you go. thank you for enjoying my work, i hope you like this too pookie!

ellie! is a total introvert to her core, so no matter how she found out about you taking interest in her… she’d probably need some time to think about it.

ellie! would have you freaking tf out over it too. but she means well, she’s just a really bad over-thinker—never wanting to say the wrong thing. but she’d come around and never stop apologizing to you.

ellie! would take a little while to open up to you, if you weren’t friends first. she’s been through a lot in her life, and she fears that her trauma could scare people away.

now, if you were already friends (specifically close friends), you probably would’ve already known her deepest darkest secrets and feelings by the time you started dating. every traumatic event and every fixation she’s had since she was a child.

ellie! thoroughly believes in physical touch and quality time as a love language.

for physical touch: it doesn’t always have to be sexual (she doesn’t complain either way), she just likes to touch you—knowing you’re right there next to her. you could be doing the dishes and she’d come up behind you, leaning her head on your shoulder, with her hands delicately placed on your hips. or standing by the bar at the tipsy bison, with her fingers dipped into any of the pockets of your jeans. keeping you close.

for quality time: she does love her moments alone, but they’re always better with you somewhere near by. sometimes, when she would spend hours painting or drawing in her art room, she’d ask if you could come sit in. so you’d bring your book, or whatever you were doing, and read silently in the same room as her. while a smooth record played in the background. but sometimes, she doesn’t even ask. you could be doing the most boring thing ever, and she’d float around you like a curious bumblebee.

ellie! love, love, loves being babied—even though she’d never admit it. she has a reputation to uphold, of course. during the spring, due to the patrols and supply runs, her allergies would wreck havoc on her. that’s where you come in to nurture her back to health. she’d have tissue stuck up her nose, with her head lying in your lap on the couch. you rubbing your hand over her hair, soothingly.

“if you kiss me right now, i think my sinuses will re-open.”

“ellie, you just sneezed two minutes ago.”

“baby, pleaseeeee! i need it!” and she’d give the craziest puppy dog eyes known to man. and, of course, you’d give in. giving her the sweetest smooch ever. it didn’t open her sinuses, but she knew that. just know… she’s gonna convince you to give her another to be sure.

another scenario would be coming home after a long day at work (idk i feel like doing patrols would be like her main thing). she probably had a rough day with the lingering infected, and came back with a few injuries. the moment she stepped through the door, she’d be calling for you. wrapped in your arms, smelling like the outdoors, you’d slowly undress her and then run a bath. she loved when you’d cater to her in that way—cleaning her cuts, washing her skin from dried blood and dirt. after all that, you’d cuddle in bed, pillow-talking until her eyes shut before yours.

“goodnight, els.” smooch.

ellie! was a little iffy when it came to holidays, but when it came to your birthday it was a special affair. jackson was a healthy and happy little bubble, but because the idea of loss wasn’t foreign to her—celebrating her loved ones was very important to her.

if you didn’t like grand gestures, she’d keep it lowkey. maybe throwing a little surprise for the two of you at home; cooking you dinner, having a movie night, and giving you little trinkets she found on the road. or painting something for you in secret, then giving it to you as a gift.

speaking of cooking…

ellie! has thing for making good food. a part of me feels like joel put her on when she was young, and after he died (yeah, i’m sorry) she made an effort to keep it up. playing guitar was much harder for her since she only had two fingers and a thumb on her left hand—so she decided to pick up something else to stay close to him.

so every chance she can get, she cooks for you or both of you. when you would go on patrols, you’d make sure to pick up cook books from before the outbreak since she found them so fascinating. and you loved being her little food guinea pig. spoiler: she was a fast learner so her cooking skills were pretty good.

ellie! 100% taught you to play the song (that we all know and love) that joel taught her on the guitar. and whenever you knew she needed to hear it, you’d play it for her. and, i swear on everything, there’d be tears in her eyes every time.

and for some freaky stuff… (i won’t get into crazy detail but i just wanna be thorough ;D)

ellie! just loves loving you… making love to you—doing everything that she can to almost prove that you’re everything to her (not that she needs to but she does it anyway).

meaning: at the very best, she’s a service!top. however, i can get behind her being a switch/verse (or maybe i’m bias lmao).

ellie! probably wouldn’t strap as often as the fanfics show. especially being in this apocalyptic world—where would you get them?? if they weren’t hella old… and, i feel like she’d think they were a little silly (but if you wanted to try it, she’d oblige because what you say goes).

ellie! loves to watch the expressions of your features contort into visuals of pleasure. it’s how she knew she was being good for you—doing everything that you asked but better!

your first time: of course she was super awkward. not really knowing where to put her hands at first. but once the heat began to rise, and your bodies began to press together, her entire energy changed! she’s her most confident when she’s in service to someone (in some way)—so she makes it her prerogative to make you feel good and comfortable. you weren’t really expecting that from her, though. it only took one airy moan coming from your lips for her to completely flip the script.

her hands were firmly delicate, and she made sure to be very vocal in your ears and over your body.

overall, ellie williams is a very attentive lover. in many ways than just one.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

UNQUALIFIED

rio vidal x reader x agatha harkness

you question death's favoritism. waking up in bed with them, kissing but not particularly NSFW, i wanted to write a smut fic but my asexuality stopped it at fluffy kissing and generally poetic vibes. 809 words.

You are no witch. You walk at the edge of death not by your own force but by the grace gifted to you – it is not within your power to protect, or to divine, or to guide to the soil those souls that have grown beyond this world and are ready for the next. You are, in every sense, helpless to the favors of life and death. 

Yet as you walk with death, as you share a bed with her night by night, you are not stricken with fear at the prospect of what awaits you in the beyond. You know she will protect you, death will guide you into her home with the same generosity that you have led her into yours. 

Over the centuries you have asked death why she has kept from taking you for so long ��� in those moments she would grow pensive, avoiding your gaze, not offering a response until you asked her again. 

Always, Rio would respond in the same way. “You’re not ready for death.” 

In illness, you would ask more eagerly. You would question her on if it was finally time for you, and again she would deny you – though there were times when she would falter, when she did not seem so sure of her own jurisdiction. “You have more to do here.” 

Now as you lay in the light of a new morning, golden light leaking in through the gaps in the curtains of the cottage you have bought in the woods for the three of you, death awakens at your side. You feel the depth of her breath change as she does, you are wrapped in her arms with your head resting in the crook of her neck and an arm thrown over her abdomen. 

Mindlessly, one of Rio’s hands finds your hair, running through its morning tangles. You feel yourself sinking into her – into death, yet instead of finding rest in a bed of soil you are wrapped in silk and sunlight. You have come to understand that through and through you reside in her favor, yet one thing you do not understand. 

“If I died, you would still have access to me,” you whisper so as not to wake Agatha, who rests on your other side. “You cut through worlds, you are able to go in and out.” 

Rio sighs. You don’t have to see her face to imagine her exhaustion at your persistent questioning, the closing of her eyes for a moment as she considers a response. “It’s early. You shouldn’t be thinking about this.” 

“About my fortuitous immortality?” 

Rio shakes her head. She takes care this time to formulate a satisfactory answer. “If you were to die, I would still have access to you, but I would never be able to hold you. You are unqualified for death.” 

“Unqualified?” 

She shifts to straddle you, looking down at you with a crooked grin. One of her hands trails down your neck to your collarbones as she speaks. “If you were dead I would have your soul. I would keep it.” 

She leans down to kiss you, and before she does: “I wouldn’t be able to do this.” 

The kiss is gentle, both of you still subdued by your exhaustion. You are hardly awake, but still you are able to feel the love in her touch, given to you in the growing hunger of her kiss and her wandering touch. She parts from you to kiss down your bare neck and chest – though abruptly she is shoved off of you, pushed away to lay at your side. 

You hadn’t realized Agatha was awake, had not noticed her stirring beside you, but now as she takes Rio’s place you feel a new craving coming alive within you. She is more rough as she touches you, hands falling immediately to grab at your chest and the kiss she pulls you into putting you at risk of gentle nips and the dominance of her tongue against yours. 

“Rio breaks the rules,” Agatha says, pulling back for a moment and sparing a glance at Rio beside you. “We are her favorites, she just doesn’t like to put it that way. She’s too just.”

Rio rolls her eyes, as if she were far from just, though you know it to be true. Through the years she has educated you on the balance she keeps, the fine working of souls. 

Straddling you as Rio had been, Agatha reaches out for Rio to kiss her. Death tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Careful, kissing death doesn’t always work out for covenless witches.” 

Agatha takes no care to follow her warning. Eagerly she pulls Rio to kiss her, the same desire burning between them that has lasted centuries, that you have witnessed from the beginning and will witness until the end. 

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT3 | FC43

part one | part two |

an: this is the most requested part three. i fell asleep so many times writing this but i’m waiting for tate’s new song so it gave me something to do. not proof read.

wc: 8.3k

It was nearly dawn when Franco turned off the engine, but the silence felt hollow. He sat motionless in the cockpit of his car, his hands still gripping the wheel even though he had finished his lap over an hour ago. The empty track stretched before him, a stark grey line splitting the waking sky, and for a fleeting moment, he considered taking off down it one more time, just for the noise.

That had been the only reason he'd even bothered coming out this morning. Noise. Anything loud enough to cut through the thick numbness that had settled over his life the last two years. Even racing—his childhood dream, his only real thrill—felt distant, just another repetition in an endless loop of things he used to care about.

He let go of the wheel, his fingers stiff and aching, and slumped back into his seat. The inside of the car still smelled new, though he’d driven this car all season. But everything in his life felt new in the wrong way, like he was breaking in someone else's skin.

Franco closed his eyes, but there was no escape there either. As much as he tried to avoid it, the image still came easily: two years ago, his wedding day. The hushed gasp of the guests as he had walked back down the aisle alone, the weight of his father-in-law’s hand on his shoulder. And her eyes—his childhood best friend, his first love, his confession to her still raw in his throat. He'd bared his heart, thought he was finally doing the right thing, only to watch her turn him down, her gaze steady and unwavering.

It was strange how clearly he could remember it. She had moved on. He was too late.

And yet here he was, two years later, sitting in the emptiness his choices had carved out. His marriage was the result of the aftermath—inevitable, unstoppable, once her father had coerced him into making it right. He’d been a fool to think he could live with it, that he could somehow build a life out of that hollowed-out choice. But every day he woke up, and every day it was the same. A stranger beside him, a public charade. He was trapped in a marriage more binding than he had ever imagined, one that had closed off any other life he might have had.

A tap on the side of the car startled him out of his thoughts. His agent, Eddie, looked at him expectantly, his face creased with concern. Franco forced himself to meet his gaze, pulling on a blank expression he’d perfected over the last two years.

"You good, man?" Eddie's voice sounded so distant for some reason.

Franco forced a nod. “Just getting in some practice.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. "You finished over an hour ago."

Franco shrugged, not offering any other excuse. What could he say? That he no longer felt the rush, that even the raw thrill of racing at 200 miles per hour left him feeling nothing? It would be admitting too much. He wasn’t sure he could handle what Eddie would say if he knew.

As he finally climbed out of the car, his gaze drifted toward the track, that endless stretch of asphalt, and for just a second, he felt a flicker of what it used to mean to him. Freedom, purpose, maybe even love. But that had been before her—before he had thrown it all away, thinking he could have her back. And now all he was left with was this: the shadow of a life he hadn’t chosen, the memory of a love that had been real once, and a future he couldn’t bring himself to face.

Franco shook his head, stuffing the thought away. "Let’s just get through today" he muttered to himself, the words a quiet vow.

Tomorrow, he’d put on the act again.

The house was silent when Franco walked in. He closed the door softly, slipping off his shoes out of habit rather than any real desire to keep the peace. She was there, sitting in the dimly lit living room, curled on one end of the couch with her legs tucked under her. A book lay open on her lap, though her eyes weren’t moving over the words.

They hadn’t spoken much in days, maybe even weeks, except for the occasional small-talk exchange over morning coffee or at some public event. When they were alone, it was as if they were two strangers who’d agreed on a routine. She looked up as he walked in, and he wondered if she was waiting for him to speak first.

But he didn’t. He simply nodded, moving past her as if it were just another evening in this quiet, loveless house. He heard her shift, a quick intake of breath, and he paused, feeling her eyes on his back.

“I cheated,” she said, her voice flat, almost as if it were a statement she’d practised a thousand times, something she needed to let out before it grew stale.

Franco slowly turned to face her, letting the words settle, though he didn’t feel anything sharp or raw. Instead, there was just the dull, familiar weight of something like resignation. He studied her face, waiting for the anger or betrayal to come, but there was nothing. Just the same emptiness that had been there for two years.

“Okay,” he said, his voice calm, resigned.

She blinked, her expression faltering. “Okay?” she repeated, as if she hadn’t expected that response. Her brow furrowed, and she set her book aside, sitting up straighter. “That’s it? Just… okay?”

He shrugged, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What do you want me to do about it? You’ve already done it.”

She searched his face, a flicker of frustration and hurt sparking in her eyes. “Why aren’t you angry, Franco?” Her voice was louder now, cracking slightly. “Why don’t you care? Why don’t you… love me? What did I do wrong?”

For the first time that evening, he felt something stir. Not anger, exactly, but a kind of distant ache. He looked at her—really looked at her—and saw the exhaustion in her face, the years of pretending, of building a life on a foundation that had never been real. And he knew, somehow, that she felt as trapped as he did.

“This isn’t about what you did wrong,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t have it in me to love you, not in the way you want.”

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with frustration. “But we were supposed to be in this together. My father… Your team. The whole world expects it. I have tried, Franco. I’ve done everything I could to make this work. I just wanted you to see me, to try…”

He sighed, looking away. “We’ve been pretending for two years. It’s not that I haven’t seen you—I just don’t think we were ever meant to see each other this way.”

Her shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of her. She stared at her hands, twisted together in her lap. “So what now? We just keep living like this, sharing the same house, putting on a show for everyone?”

Franco didn’t have an answer for her. He didn’t know what they were supposed to do, what the next step would even look like. They were bound together by more than their vows—by the expectations, the pressure, the image of a life neither of them had chosen. He knew she deserved better than this emptiness, the hollow echo of what might have been.

After a moment, he sat down across from her, resting his elbows on his knees, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you want from me?”

She looked away, biting her lip, and for the first time he saw the loneliness in her eyes. "I don’t know," she murmured, her voice quiet. "I don’t know if I ever knew."

She looked down, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater, and then let out a long, quiet breath. "I’ll speak to my father," she said, her voice steady. “We’ll break it off. There’s… someone else. For me, I mean.”

Franco nodded, feeling only a strange sort of relief. “Okay.”

She gave a small, sad smile, as if she’d expected more—anger, maybe, or regret. “I’ll make sure he keeps the sponsors on your team,” she added, her voice softening. “It’s the least I can do.”

Franco shook his head. “He doesn’t have to. I don’t want you worrying about that.”

For a moment, she looked at him with something almost like sympathy. “Franco… it’s not your fault,” she said.

He frowned slightly, unsure what she meant. “What isn’t?”

She looked away, gathering her thoughts, and then back at him, her gaze unwavering. “It’s not your fault you still love her after all these years. Some things… they just don’t go away.”

His throat tightened, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. Her words hung between them, exposing something he’d tried to bury, something he hadn’t even admitted to himself. His silence was answer enough.

“She was a very lovely woman when I met her,” she continued, her voice softer, almost wistful. “I’m sure she hasn’t changed. I’m sure you two would be perfect together.”

He looked down, swallowing the ache in his chest. For all their distance, she’d seen more of him than he’d realised, even if they had never truly belonged to each other. Maybe she’d known all along. Maybe that’s why they’d been drifting from the beginning, like two people playing their parts, waiting for the script to finally run out.

He stood up, running a hand over the back of his neck, his voice low. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

She nodded, her eyes full of an understanding that somehow made this harder. “Okay. Goodnight, Franco.”

He gave her a brief nod, then turned and headed down the hall, his footsteps soft against the hardwood. The walls of the house felt like a cage, closing in with every step, but he knew that maybe, for the first time, there was a way out—for both of them.

Franco closed the door to the guest room, feeling the weight of everything settling over him. He felt like a visitor in his own life, just as he had every day for the past two years. He slipped off his watch, set it on the nightstand, and reached for his phone to set an alarm.

Just as he did, his mother’s name lit up the screen. She called him every night, their routine barely wavering since he’d left home all those years ago to chase his dream. He answered, feeling a bit of the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Oh, finally, you picked up! I thought I’d missed you tonight, hijo.” she said, her voice bright and warm, filling the room with a bit of comfort he hadn’t known he needed.

“Sorry. It’s been… a long day,” he replied, not sure where to start even if he’d wanted to.

“Oh, mi amor, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said, sympathy lacing her voice. She paused, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Well, you’ll never guess who I ran into today.”

He smiled slightly, settling back against the pillows. “Knowing you, mama, it could be anyone.”

“You flatter me,” she laughed. “But no, this one you’ll want to hear. I ran into your chiquita's mama at the market this morning.”

At the mention of his childhood best friend, Franco’s heart gave a small, involuntary jolt. He kept his voice casual, though he could feel his pulse quicken. “Oh yeah?”

“Guess who’s moving back home?” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “She’s coming back without that boyfriend of hers—what was his name, Angelo or something? Anyway, I don’t know what happened there, but her mama didn’t say much, just that she’ll be moving back in soon.”

Franco fell silent, her words sinking in. She was moving back. Back to the same town, back to where they’d both grown up. It was strange hearing it now, after all this time—especially tonight. He tried to imagine her there, close by, after years of being nothing more than a memory, a lingering ache. She hadn’t been in touch since his wedding. They hadn’t spoken, not really, since that day he’d confessed everything.

“Franco?” his mother asked, her voice pulling him back. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, I’m here. Just… surprised, I guess.”

“Well, I thought you’d be pleased to know,” she said gently. “I don’t know why she’s moving back, and I suppose it’s none of my business, but I hope she’s doing alright. I always liked that girl.”

“Me too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

He wondered what could have happened to bring her back. She’d seemed happy, at least in the few times he’d seen her in the public eye over the last two years—smiling, vibrant, that spark still in her. Whatever had drawn her back, he doubted it was anything good.

“Anyway, I just thought I’d tell you,” his mother went on, a hint of cheer in her voice. “I’m sure you’ll see her around when she’s back. Goodness knows you two could catch up. I’ll let you get some sleep, though. You sound tired, love.”

“I am,” he said honestly. “Thanks, mama.”

“Goodnight, mi amor,” she said softly. “Try not to worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

He hung up, setting the phone down on the nightstand, but his mind kept circling back to her, the unanswered questions piling up. Why was she moving home? Why now, after everything?

He lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the quiet gnaw at him. For the first time in a long while, he felt something stirring beneath the emptiness—something that he hadn’t let himself feel since that day two years ago. A flicker of hope, of curiosity. And maybe, just maybe, the faintest hint of longing.

Franco woke up to an unsettling silence the following morning. The kind that felt thick, heavy, and somehow different from the usual quiet he’d grown accustomed to in this house. He rubbed his eyes, groggy, his mind still tangled in the remnants of last night’s conversation with his mother. She was moving back home. The thought had settled somewhere deep, like a stone sinking to the bottom of his chest, and he hadn’t stopped wondering why she’d come back.

He rose slowly, crossing the hall toward the master bedroom to grab his things, but as he reached the door, he noticed it was open just a crack. There was an odd stillness inside, an emptiness. Pushing the door open fully, he froze.

The wardrobes were wide open, their shelves bare, nothing left but empty hangers. He scanned the room, taking in the strange absence of her things: the jewellery stand, her perfumes, even the photos from the dresser—all gone.

On the bed, her wedding band glinted in the morning light, sitting atop a folded sheet of paper. Heart pounding, Franco walked over and picked up the note, her familiar handwriting scrawled across the page in clean, deliberate strokes.

"Go live a life you’ll enjoy. Go get the girl."

He read the words over and over, the reality slowly sinking in. She had really left. It was over, finally—no more strained conversations, no more pretences, no more empty rooms they shared out of duty. She had made the choice for both of them, letting him go in a way neither of them had been able to until now.

He let out a slow, deep breath, feeling a strange mixture of relief and regret. She had given him a way out, but he felt a twinge of sadness for the life they’d tried and failed to build, and for the woman who’d known him well enough to let him go.

After a moment, he picked up his phone and scrolled to his agent’s number. It rang twice before Eddie answered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Franco? It’s barely morning. You okay?”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, still processing everything. “Yeah. Listen, Eddie, I need you to book me a flight.”

“A flight? Where are you going?”

“Home. To Argentina.” He paused, and for the first time in two years, the words felt right. “I just need to go home.”

Eddie hesitated on the other end. “You sure about this?”

“Yes. I’ll figure everything out when I get there,” Franco replied, feeling a resolve he hadn’t felt in years.

Eddie sighed, but there was something like approval in his voice. “Alright, I’ll get it sorted. You’ll be on a plane by tonight.”

“Thank you, Eddie.” Franco hung up, glancing around the room one last time. He pocketed her note, her words still echoing in his mind.

True to Eddie's word, Franco was on a flight six hours later. The journey was a blur of cramped seats, stale air, and the faint taste of regret that clung to the back of his throat. The turbulence was relentless, like some cosmic joke, as if the universe itself wanted to remind him that nothing had ever been easy. He tried to sleep, but the aching pull of everything he’d left behind in that house—his marriage, his choices, his dreams—kept him awake, staring out at the dark sky, thinking of all the roads that had led him here.

By the time he landed in Buenos Aires and caught a car for the long drive north to his family's old village, the exhaustion had crept under his skin, weighing him down like a thousand unspoken words. But the quiet beauty of the countryside—the sun setting over fields that stretched on forever—started to soothe him, even if just a little.

The car ride seemed endless, every minute dragging with the weight of his thoughts. But when the familiar sight of his family’s village finally came into view—cobblestone streets, thatched roofs, the scent of freshly baked bread hanging in the air—something inside Franco began to shift. The city felt miles away, the noise, the crowds, the weight of his past life all falling away as he crossed into the place that had always felt like home.

The moment he stepped through the door of his childhood house, all of that exhaustion seemed to vanish. The house was exactly as he remembered it—warm, full of life, and alive with the kind of energy he hadn't felt in so long. His mother’s soft humming from the kitchen filled the air, the scent of her cooking familiar and comforting in a way nothing else ever had been.

“Mama?” he called, stepping into the kitchen.

She looked up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face as she caught sight of him. It was like the years had slipped away in an instant, and before he could even move, she was across the room, enveloping him in her arms.

“Oh, hijo,” she said, pulling him in tight. “You’re home. You’re really home.”

Franco closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the comforting smells of garlic and simmering stew. It was the same as it had always been. His mother’s embrace felt like a balm, her steady, familiar presence filling up the spaces in his chest that had been empty for so long. He let himself relax into the hug, feeling like he could finally breathe again.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m home.”

She pulled back, looking at him with concern now, her gaze soft but knowing. “You look like you’ve been through a storm. What happened, Franco?”

He shook his head, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “It’s… been a hot minute.”

She stepped back, eyes still lingering on him as she turned toward the counter, gesturing for him to sit. "Come, sit. You must be starving."

As he slid into the chair at the table, his mother’s eyes flickered to his left hand, where the ring had once sat. The absence of it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Franco," she said softly, her voice delicate but insistent, “Where’s your wedding ring?”

He froze, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the spot where the band had once been. The question hit him harder than he expected, like a weight on his chest.

He took a deep breath, his words coming out slow, almost reluctant. "I… I never loved her, Mama. Not like I should’ve. Not like I should’ve loved the person I married."

His mother didn’t flinch, didn’t offer a shocked look or try to comfort him with false reassurances. Instead, she simply nodded, as if she had known all along. The silence between them was calm, understanding.

"I knew," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "I knew from the start, Franco. I could see it. You were never... you were never right with her."

He exhaled, a small weight lifting from his chest. His mother didn’t judge him. She hadn’t expected him to make some fairy tale of a marriage. She had always known him better than anyone.

"Why didn’t you say something?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

She smiled softly, her hand brushing his cheek. "You had to learn it on your own, cariño. I couldn’t take that from you."

He sat back in his chair, letting her words sink in. This was home. The quiet understanding, the unconditional love. The very things he had been running from for so long. And now, in this moment, he felt like he was finally allowed to come back to it.

His mother leaned in, brushing the hair from his forehead as if he were still that little boy who had left for the big city years ago. "You’ll be alright, Franco. I know you will. You always find your way back."

He smiled, his heart full, and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Thanks, Mama," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I think I’m ready to find it now."

His mother studied him for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. The comfortable silence stretched between them before she finally spoke, her voice casual, but with a slight undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite place.

“You know, she moved back this morning,” she said, a soft note of curiosity in her tone.

Franco looked up sharply, his stomach tightening at the mention of her. “She did?”

His mother nodded, stirring a pot on the stove. He shifted in his seat, trying to steady the flutter of emotions that were beginning to rise in his chest. She was back. The thought of her living just next door made his heart ache in ways he wasn’t prepared for, especially after everything that had happened. It felt like a sign, but it also felt like a question—one he didn’t know if he was ready to answer.

“I don’t know what’s happened,” he said, the words coming out quieter than he intended. “But I’m sure it’s for the best. She’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

His mother gave him a thoughtful look before turning back to the stove. "It’s not easy, you know. Coming back here after all those years. Maybe she just needs some time. Things haven't been easy for her, either."

Franco nodded absently, his mind already racing, a thousand thoughts flooding his mind. He’d always wondered what it would be like if they were close again—if the years between them could just vanish, and they could pick up where they left off. But that was before everything had changed.

Before he’d made a mess of everything.

“I’ll give her space,” he said after a long pause. “She clearly needs it if she’s come back home. I don’t want to crowd her, not like this.”

His mother looked at him for a long moment, her gaze soft and full of the kind of love only a mother could offer. She didn’t press, but Franco could tell she was seeing more in him than he was letting on. She always had that way of reading him, even when he didn’t want to be read.

“I think that’s wise, Franco,” she said quietly. “But don’t wait too long. Sometimes, the right things—people—can slip away if we don’t take the chance when we can.” She gave him a small smile, her eyes gentle but full of a mother’s wisdom. “Don’t make the same mistake twice.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at his hands. The right things... people. Was she talking about her?

He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he had already lost so much—lost the girl he had once called his best friend. His true love. That much was clear.

But he couldn’t make the same mistake again. Not with her. Not now.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I won’t. I’ll give her the time she needs… and then, I’ll figure out what comes next.” He forced a small smile, looking back up at her. “But first, I think I need to settle in here, Mama. Just for a bit.”

She smiled warmly at him, nodding as she moved to set the table. “Take your time, cariño. You’ve earned it.” Then she added softly, almost to herself, “And when you’re ready, you know where she is.”

Franco nodded, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a promise he wasn’t sure he was ready to make. He had to sort through the years of distance, the pain, the confusion, and the mess he had made before he could even think of approaching her again.

That night the house was quiet as Franco prepared for bed, the kind of quiet that settled deep into the bones. The weight of the day’s emotions, of the journey—of everything—pressed on him like a physical force, but he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was still missing.

He stood in front of the mirror, his eyes scanning the reflection—a man who hadn’t truly looked at himself in a long time. His face was a little more worn, the years of racing and the strain of the past two had carved lines into his features. And yet, there was a boy in those eyes too—the one who used to laugh freely, who used to dream of more than just what life had given him.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the quiet ache of the past two years swirling in his chest again. Where did it all go wrong? He’d asked himself this so many times, but the answer had never been clear. His life had seemed like it was on track, until it suddenly wasn’t. Until it all came crashing down, leaving him here, in his childhood home, looking at a version of himself he didn’t recognise.

Where did it all go to shit?

He turned away from the mirror, needing a moment of peace, a change of scenery. The night air felt crisp as he stepped out onto the balcony, the soft night breeze brushing against his skin. The village was quiet, the distant sound of crickets filling the silence. The stars above him were impossibly bright, as if they had been waiting for him to step out into this space to show themselves.

For a moment, he just stood there, taking it all in. The vast sky, the deep silence, the comfort of being home, of being away from all the chaos of the life he’d left behind. He closed his eyes for a beat, letting himself breathe.

Then, he froze.

From across the yard, on the roof of the house next door, a figure was sitting—her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the stars.

Franco didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there. The sight of her—after all these years—was like a jolt to the chest, a flood of old memories and emotions crashing over him.

At first, he considered turning back into the house, pretending he hadn’t seen her, pretending the universe wasn’t trying to push him into a conversation he wasn’t ready for. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on her figure, so familiar, so her. He hadn’t expected to see her tonight, especially not like this. Not sitting on the roof, in the same place they used to sit together as kids, watching the stars and talking about everything and nothing.

He had no idea how to approach her.

Before he could make up his mind, she spoke, her voice drifting through the night air, quiet but unmistakable. “Staring’s rude, you know.”

Franco’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening at the sound of her voice. It had been so long since he’d heard it, and yet it felt like no time had passed at all.

He stayed where he was, still unsure, a little frozen by the way his heart was racing. “I didn’t think you’d notice,” he finally said, his voice coming out quieter than he intended.

She tilted her head slightly, but didn’t look directly at him. “I always notice,” she replied, a faint smile playing on her lips, though her tone was more playful than anything else.

He let out a small laugh, a bit surprised by her nonchalance. It was just like her to act so casual, even in the middle of something heavy.

“I wasn’t planning to interrupt,” he added, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Just thought I'd leave you to it."

She didn’t respond right away, but he could see the way her gaze flickered toward him, though she didn’t move. After a beat, she spoke again, her voice quieter now. “You came home.”

“I did,” he said, his heart racing as he stood there, not knowing where to go from here. “Took me a while, but I’m here.”

She nodded, the soft rustle of her hair catching the starlight. "Good. I didn’t think you would."

Franco swallowed, the weight of the unspoken words hanging thick between them. "I... didn’t think I would either."

There was another pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... heavy, in a way that felt like they were both waiting for something. Waiting for the moment when they could go back to being what they once were. But Franco knew, deep down, that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Too much had happened between them, too many years spent apart.

Her voice broke the quiet, her words soft but inviting. “There’s space next to me. You should come up here.”

Franco hesitated for a second longer, unsure, but something in her tone, a subtle pull, urged him forward. He glanced around briefly before deciding to take a chance.

Carefully, he climbed over the small stone wall dividing their balconies, his fingers finding familiar purchase as he pulled himself over. The moment his feet hit the roof, the memories of their childhood came rushing back—sitting on the very same roof, talking about everything and nothing, watching the stars as if they were the only two people in the world.

It felt surreal, like no time had passed at all, even though everything between them had changed.

She was already sitting cross-legged, her back turned slightly toward him, but she patted the spot next to her, silently urging him to join her. He moved toward her, then sat down, the cool roof beneath him grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected.

When he finally reached the top, she shifted to make room, and before he even fully settled beside her, she was resting her head on his shoulder. It was as natural as breathing, a comfort he hadn’t realised he’d been starved for.

The night seemed to stretch on forever as they sat together, not speaking, just sharing the same space, the same memories that lingered between them like a soft, delicate thread. It was as though the silence held all the things they couldn’t say out loud.

Finally, it was her who broke the quiet, her voice low and tinged with regret. “Sorry I never replied to your letter.”

Franco’s heart stuttered in his chest at the mention of the letter. He hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not after everything that had happened. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her, his voice barely a whisper. “You... you received it?”

She nodded slowly, lifting her head from his shoulder but not fully pulling away. She stared up at the stars, her fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes in the air. “Four days ago,” she said, her voice soft and distant, as though the words were hard to say.

Four days ago.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. The letter. The letter he’d written years ago, before everything spiralled out of control, before the wedding, before he called it all off. The letter where he had laid bare his feelings for her—telling her everything he’d never had the courage to say before. Telling her that he loved her. That he’d leave his fiancé for her. That he wanted to be with her.

The letter had been the final step, the desperate confession that he couldn’t hold inside any longer.

“I… I didn’t know,” Franco muttered, his throat tight. “I sent it because I thought you needed to know. I thought you needed to hear it.” He paused, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t expect you to just—ignore it.”

Her breath hitched slightly, and she looked over at him, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him ache. “I didn’t ignore it,” she said softly. “I didn’t know about it. Angelo hid it from me.”

Franco froze. Angelo. The same guy she’d been with all those years, the one who had kept the letter from her. The weight of it hit him hard, a cold knot in his stomach. “He hid it?” His voice barely came out above a whisper.

She nodded, her eyes not leaving his. “I only found it four days ago when I was packing.” She paused, as though weighing whether or not to say more, then sighed. “He kept it from me, Franco. Told me it was nothing, just some silly thing from the past. But it wasn’t nothing. It was you. It was everything you were trying to say. And I didn’t even know until hours before your wedding.”

Franco could feel his chest tighten, the words he had written, the words that had been locked inside of him for so long, echoing in the space between them. He had no idea she’d never received it. No idea she had been living in that oblivion, thinking that nothing had changed when, in reality, everything had been laid out for her years ago.

Franco closed his eyes, the weight of her words settling over him. His entire life had been built around the lies he’d told himself, and in the end, he had only hurt the one person who had always been there for him.

When he opened his eyes again, he was staring at the sky, the stars so far away. “I never stopped loving you,” he said quietly, the confession falling from his lips before he could stop it. “I never stopped thinking about you, even when I thought I should. Even when I tried to move on, I always... always thought about you. About Monza.”

Her voice was soft but steady, a quiet confession in the night air. “I shouldn’t have come to that wedding,” she said, her words hanging in the space between them like a breath held too long.

Franco blinked, his heart stuttering slightly in his chest as he turned to look at her. “Why?”

She sighed, her eyes focused on the distant horizon, her expression unreadable in the soft glow of the moon. “Because I thought I was over you, Franco. I really did. I thought that seeing you get married to someone else, someone who wasn’t me, would help me move on. But when I watched you declare your love for me in front of everyone... it hit me all at once. I felt like I was coasting through a lie with Angelo for two years.”

Franco’s chest tightened at the mention of Angelo again, but he didn’t interrupt. He knew this was something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a long time, something they had never really spoken about. She took a slow breath, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt as she spoke again.

“I couldn’t give him all of me,” she continued, her voice wavering for the first time, just the slightest crack in her calm demeanour. “When you still had half my heart.”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat at her words. She still loved him. Despite everything, despite the time apart, despite the man she had been with, a part of her had never truly moved on.

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t find the right words to express the swirl of emotions inside him. The guilt, the confusion, the longing. All he could do was listen, his heart aching with each word she spoke.

“Amor…” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, trying to find his grounding. “She cheated on me. My wife.” He added as though she needed clarification.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise, but she said nothing. She waited for him to continue, her breath catching in her throat.

Franco stared out at the stars, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t feel much at first. I think I expected it. In some way, I always did. I’d been living in a marriage where I wasn’t really present for a long time.” He paused, his eyes distant as he recalled the feeling of his world unravelling. “But... when I found out, I couldn’t feel anything. It was like I had already shut myself off from it all.”

She studied him, her gaze soft but piercing. “Really? You didn’t feel... anything?”

Franco’s heart twisted, “I felt guilty,” he admitted, his voice low. "I didn’t feel hurt or anger. I just felt... guilty."

She frowned, the confusion and concern evident in her eyes. “Guilty? Why? You didn’t cheat. You weren’t the one betraying her.”

Franco chuckled bitterly, a hollow sound that felt foreign to him. “No, I didn’t cheat. But I’ve been mentally cheating on her for years now.” His voice cracked slightly, the admission slipping out before he could stop it. “With you. I’ve been thinking about you. Wanting you. Wondering... what could have been.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him for a long moment, the weight of his confession hanging between them like an invisible force. The air was thick, heavy with the things they hadn’t said, the things they had both buried for too long.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the distant rustle of the trees, the wind whispering through the leaves. Then, she shifted slightly, her fingers brushing against his, tentative, like she wasn’t sure if it was okay to reach out. But Franco didn’t pull away. He let her fingers weave through his, and for a moment, they were back to the way they used to be—close, without words, just a connection that had never truly faded.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking the silence again. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I never wanted you to feel guilty.”

Franco shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers. “You didn’t. It’s my fault. I should’ve been honest with myself. With you. With everyone.”

Her hand found his, her grip soft but reassuring. “We can’t undo the past, Franco. But maybe... maybe we can stop running from it.” She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for something—maybe a sign that they were on the same page, that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, but the beginning of something else.

Franco’s heart skipped a beat. The ache inside him—this pull, this longing—felt more real now than it ever had before. But he couldn’t let himself get lost in it. Not yet. Not before he figured out what came next.

“Maybe,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Maybe we can.”

But for now, they stayed there, hand in hand, watching the stars as the night stretched on—together, but not quite ready to bridge the distance between them. The future was uncertain, but in that moment, with her close to him again, it felt like the possibility of a new beginning was still there.

And maybe that was enough.

She shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she stared up at the night sky, the stars scattered above them like little pieces of a puzzle they couldn’t quite put together. Her voice broke the quiet again, this time more introspective, tinged with a kind of sadness that Franco couldn’t shake. “Why are we like this?” she asked softly, the question hanging in the air between them. “Why can’t we ever get it right? Why does it feel like we keep missing each other?”

Franco felt a lump form in his throat as he turned his head to look at her. He had no answer. No easy explanation for the years of missed opportunities, the broken promises, the things left unsaid. All he could do was let the silence stretch for a moment before he spoke, his voice thick with regret.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his words barely audible, but full of the weight of everything he had kept buried for so long.

Her hand tightened around his, her fingers warm and steady against his skin. She didn’t look at him immediately. She just stared at the stars, letting the night take them both in. But when she did speak, her voice was clear, almost a little too sharp, as if she were trying to distance herself from the ache inside.

“I know,” she said, her words simple, yet filled with the unspoken truth between them.

Franco exhaled slowly, his chest tight with the unrelenting guilt that seemed to follow him wherever he went. “I really don’t,” he added, his tone heavier this time, the words more raw, like they were scraping against his very soul.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes soft but steady as she met his gaze. “But you’ll always have me anyway,” she said, her voice gentle, almost a whisper, but strong in its promise. “All of me. Even if you think you don’t deserve it, even if you feel like you’ve lost me, I’m still here. I always will be.”

Franco closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to reach out and pull her into him, to hold on to the promise she was offering, but he knew that he had to fix everything first. He had to prove to himself, to her, that he was worthy.

After a long moment, his mind shifted, a question bubbling up to the surface, something that had been nagging at him for a while now. “What happened to Angelo?” he asked, his voice quiet, but urgent with curiosity.

Her gaze flickered away, her expression becoming unreadable for a brief second. She didn’t speak at first, but then, she sighed, her voice small as she turned her head back toward the night sky.

“He proposed,” she said softly, her words hitting Franco like a punch to the gut. “He got down on one knee, right there in the middle of a restaurant, and asked me to marry him.”

Franco’s heart sank. He had imagined the two of them together, but hearing her speak those words, hearing the finality in her tone, made something inside him shift. His breath caught in his throat.

“And you didn’t say yes,” he whispered, the realisation washing over him slowly, painfully.

She shook her head, her fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve as she gathered her thoughts. “I couldn’t bring myself to say yes,” she murmured, her voice distant, like the memory still held weight over her. “I couldn’t lie to him, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. Not after everything. I just... I couldn’t. And when I looked at him, I knew something wasn’t right. I knew that the whole time, I had been lying to both of us, pretending that he was enough when I wasn’t even sure of myself.”

Franco felt his chest tighten, his heart aching with understanding. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure if he was apologising for Angelo, for her, or for himself, but it felt like the right thing to say. “I’m sorry for everything.”

She didn’t respond right away. She just sat there beside him, her head back on his shoulder, her fingers still twined with his. The night stretched on, both of them lost in their own thoughts, but there was something in the air that felt different now. It wasn’t just the weight of their shared history or the unsaid words that hovered between them. There was something else.

Something that, for the first time, felt like the beginning of something new.

After a while, she spoke again, her voice barely audible. “I never wanted to hurt him. But I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when you’re still here, not when you’ve always been here, Franco.”

Franco closed his eyes, his fingers tracing the curve of her hand. “I understand,” he whispered, though he wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure of anything right now except that he needed to make it right—whatever that looked like.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, the quiet stretching between them, neither of them in a rush to break the stillness. The night air was cool against their skin, and the stars above seemed to twinkle with the same quiet understanding that hung in the air. For the first time in years, it felt like they were both exactly where they were meant to be—together.

But slowly, the rhythm of her breathing changed, softening, slowing. Franco felt it before he saw it, the gentle shift in the weight on his shoulder. He glanced down, his heart softening at the sight of her—her lashes fluttering closed, her face serene and peaceful in sleep. She was completely relaxed, as if the weight of everything had been lifted, even if just for a moment.

He didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb the quiet that had settled between them. But as minutes ticked by, he knew it was time to move her. Carefully, he slipped his arm beneath her, lifting her gently, cradling her close. Her head rested on his chest as he stood, her body instinctively curling against him. She felt weightless in his arms, and for a second, he couldn’t believe how natural it all felt.

As he carried her through the door to her room, the familiar smell of her childhood home wrapped around him—the scent of lavender and old wood, a place both foreign and intimately familiar. The room was just as he remembered, simple and cosy, with little traces of her scattered throughout. He looked down at the floor he used to sleep on when they were young The soft, pale light of the moon filtered through the window, casting everything in a gentle glow.

He placed her gently in the bed, tucking the covers around her small frame. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her, his chest heavy with emotion. Everything about this felt so right, so painfully wrong at the same time. He should have been here years ago. He should have never let things get so far. But now, he was here. And he wasn’t going anywhere.

He leaned down, brushing a strand of hair away from her face before pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. His lips lingered there for a second longer than he meant to, his heart aching with all the things he never said.

Just as he turned to leave, to head back to his own house, her voice stopped him.

“Don’t.”

Franco froze. His hand rested on the window frame , his heart stalling in his chest. He turned slowly, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“What?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost unsure.

She looked up at him, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but there was something in her gaze—vulnerable, raw, but full of longing. “Don’t go,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t watch you walk away again. Please don’t.”

For a moment, Franco stood there, his chest tight as he processed her words. Don’t go. It was all he needed to hear. She didn’t want him to leave. After everything that had happened, after all the distance between them, she still wanted him here.

He walked back toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate. He didn’t need to say anything; the weight of the moment, the look in her eyes, said it all. He carefully slid under the covers, settling beside her, the warmth of her body so familiar yet so new.

Without a word, she shifted, curling into him, her head finding its place on his chest, her hand resting gently against his side. Franco wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. It wasn’t a perfect moment, but it was real. And it was theirs.

They stayed there, the rhythm of their breathing slowly syncing, the quiet of the night wrapping around them. No more words were needed. No more distance. Just the two of them, together, holding on to each other like they were afraid to let go.

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together beneath the covers, Franco realised that this moment—this feeling of being home—was everything he had been searching for.

Home.

Her.

It was all synonymous.

She was his home.

the end.

taglist: @sp1rl @yennasaurusrex @ellen3101 @firefirevampire @directioner5life @littlegrapejuice @obxstiles @scopeiguess @newlifeforus @justsisse @zestytimbit @taygrls @charlosvibesonly @sparkleofpizza

[rafestyles]

should've known it was a matter of time || rafe cameron

requested? No, I just need to write something!!!!!!

prompt: After getting caught by Singh’s men, you find yourself face-to-face with none other than Rafe Cameron.

For the sake of the story & so I don’t have to write it out - you are JJ’s sister. You and Rafe had been dating in secret before the incident on the tarmac occurred. Even though you had tried so hard to hide your relationship from JJ and the other pogues, it was all worthless when Rafe made you choose between him or helping out John B & Sarah (who is also your best friend). You obviously chose the latter and he declared your relationship over. You have mostly avoided him until this point. Or: You are Kie in episodes 1 & 2 of season 3, except you’re Rafe’s ex. 

warnings/content: toxic!rafe, pogue!reader, maybank!reader, fem!reader, violence (g*ns & k*ives)

word count: 3.9k

The sound of your shallow, anxious breathing was the only noise filling your ears as you ascended the staircase. With the guard’s heavy footfalls echoing close behind, you had little time to scan the room for any possible escape routes. When you hesitate for a second too long, his voice cuts through the silence, annoyed: “Up.” 

Reaching the top step, he jerks your body towards the first closed door, swinging it open, “Inside.” Although futile, you keep your feet planted in their position in the hallway. With an irritated exhale, he shoves you into the room. You whirl towards him, fury lighting your eyes. “Why am I here? Who are you working for?” you demand, a hint of anger & fear weaving through your tone. 

“Dinner at eight. I’d clean up.” he mutters harshly as his eyes trail over your figure with barely concealed disdain. Begging, you glance at him desperately, “Just tell me what they want.” He doesn’t spare you another glance before slamming the door and clicking the lock into place.

Though hopeless, you pull at the handle a few times praying it may give. When it doesn’t, you admit defeat and turn your body to fully face the room. Taking a step towards the windows you pull the curtains open seeking an escape route but instead, you're met with a few guards standing right outside. Huffing out a frustrated breath, you keep scanning your eyes over the room. 

Your gaze catches on a wardrobe and you make your way over. A row of identical red dresses hang on the rack inside, a note attached to the first one. Your fingers tremble as you reach for it, reading over the messy scrawl: “Pick your size.” 

Your face contorts in confusion before it dawns on you  - this is what they expect you to wear at the dinner they have planned for the night. Realizing that leaving this room is your only hope in formulating a plan of escape, you admit defeat and reluctantly pull out your size. 

–

A few hours later finds you dressed and laying back against the bed. Your fingers twist anxiously as you wait for the dinner to begin, thoughts of your brother & friends racing through your mind. A brief knock taps against the door, alerting you for only a moment before the door swings open to a woman standing in the hallway. “He’s ready.” She speaks softly, gesturing you to follow her with a slight tilt to her head. 

Exhaling a nervous breath, you hesitantly follow behind. When you reach the main level, she points towards a room where your ears pick up the unmistakable sound of a drink being poured. You step towards the open doors, your gaze instinctively landing on a man who’s standing with his back towards you. He lifts the glass to his lips, taking small sips of the dark liquid.

“Uh... excuse me?” you call out, your voice coming out shakier than you’d intended.

The man stiffens before slowly turning to face you. Time seems to slow as your eyes lock and your heart skips a beat. This is the last thing you were prepared for - standing face-to-face with your ex, Rafe Cameron. “No, no. There’s no way you and your dad are behind this shit.” You hiss, anger dripping from every word. 

He seems to snap out of his daze, his eyes flaring in disbelief, “What are you talking about?” he snaps,  “Are you and your pogue friends trying to weasel in on my deal right now? Is that what’s going on?” 

“What are you talking about?” you retort, angrily. Your body seems to still be in shock as you try to wrap your mind around the sight of him standing before you.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” a voice chuckles from another corner of the room. You and Rafe exchange one last, charged look at one another before fully turning to face the man. Panic surges through you as you hear Rafe mutter, “Who are you?” 

A smirk spreads across the man's face as he points at his chest, “Me?” he asks, his tone mocking. Your eyes glance towards Rafe, nerves tightening, watching as he almost instinctively shuffles his body closer towards yours. “My name is Carlos Singh.” he says smoothly, shaking his finger at Rafe.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron.” His gaze shifts to you, condescension in his eyes,  “And Ms. y/l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics in bringing you here.” 

Rafe’s body tightens, his eyes sweeping over you. The tension between the three of you hangs thick as Singh lets the silence linger before speaking again, the tone of his voice taking on a false politeness.

“But please, come. Sit down.” he gestures to the table behind him. When neither you or Rafe make a move, he adds with exaggerated patience, “Come now, I don’t bite.” 

Rafe sweeps his gaze over you once more, his eyes intense as they scan every inch of your body. Concern tightens his features and you realize with a start that he’s checking for any sign of injury. The realization sends something soft and unexpected through your body as his eyes reach yours again.

You offer a small, reassuring nod - enough for him to see that you’re okay. He seems to accept your unspoken message and you watch as the tension in his shoulders eases slightly, his expression softening at your response. With a subtle gesture, he finally moves towards the table, still glancing back to watch you closely. You notice the apprehension floating through his posture, but there’s an undertone of something else - weariness. You follow after him, realizing that although you hate to admit it, you and Rafe need to be on each other’s side right now.

“Rough tactics. What about me?” Rafe grumbles, his voice laced with frustration as he paces around the back of the room. “Yes, Mr. Cameron. False pretenses,” Singh says, pouring a drink into the glasses in front of him, “But the ends justify the means I’m afraid.” 

He takes a few sips of one of the glasses, “Sit down.” You hear Rafe’s sigh of frustration before you both pull chairs out and finally take your seats. Singh watches you both, unphased by Rafe’s frustration as he sets a drink in front of you and another one in front of Rafe. “We have a lot to talk about.”

“Why are we here?” Your voice steady despite the tension suffocating the room. 

Singh leans back, his expression unreadable. “Well Ms. y/l/n, Mr. Cameron. We share certain interests… objectives.” he says in a tone that’s almost too casual for the situation at hand.

Rafe’s body leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs, “Is this not about the cross?” 

Your gaze snaps towards Rafe as Singh’s finger points sharply in his direction, “It is. Tangentially, it is about the cross.” he pauses as his gaze shifts towards a painting on one of the far walls, his expression distant. “But it’s also about something much, much bigger than the cross by orders of magnitude,” 

He exhales slowly, “The completion of a grand quest.” With his back towards you, Rafe’s gaze finds yours, eyes locking for a brief moment. A sense of reassurance washes over you as you realize his expression matches your puzzled one. 

“You see,” Singh’s voice cuts through the silence, bringing your attention back to him. “The story goes that 450 years ago, a Spanish soldier came out of the Orinoco Basin with a few gold beads. And when they asked the Spanish soldier where the beads came from, the Spanish soldier replied he got them from a peaceful Indigenous tribe who lived in a city of gold.” he pauses, letting the weight of the words sink in, “El Dorado.” 

He eyes the both of you before continuing on, “And for the next 450 years, people tried to find that gold, you know.” He walks over to a table, picking a small dagger up as the blade catches the light.  “They tried… conquistadors, knights, captains of ships, tribes, entire nations.” 

He turns to face you and Rafe, his eyes growing intense. “All fighting each other in a race for the end of the rainbow.” He begins pacing in front of you, the dagger now resting loosely in his hands. “Thousands of lives laid on the pyre of gold fever.” 

Your glance at Rafe, noticing the subtle tension in his body as he grows irritated at Singh’s story. “And it falls to me, you know.” Singh stops pacing, his voice taking on a deeper tone. He leans forward, his gaze bouncing between the two of you with an intensity that borders on obsession, “It falls to me to complete the task.” 

He pauses a moment before continuing, “To bring full circle a quest that has gone on for almost 500 years. Perhaps… perhaps the greatest quest in the history of the western hemisphere.” 

Unease grows in your stomach as you realize the finality in his tone, the unmistakable certainty that he will stop at nothing to claim what he believes is his. You begin to panic and snap your gaze to study Rafe again. You find his eyes already on yours as his expression is tinged with annoyance, lips pursed in a tight line. He begins nodding slowly, as if he’s trying to process Singh’s words, but you know him - the tension in his shoulders speak volumes: he’s pissed. Before he can utter a word, Singh’s voice speaks up again.

“And you two,” he points the dagger between the two of you, chuckling softly, “you two are going to play a part in that.” 

Dread pools in your stomach as the walls of the room feel as if they’re closing in on you, an impending sense of danger sparking through the room. You glance at Rafe again, hoping to find even an ounce of reassurance painted on his features, but all you see is frustration. He pulls his lips into his mouth, a move you’re familiar with, as he tries to maintain his temper.

“What about you, Ms. y/l/n?” Singh speaks, your eyes catching his again. “Are you interested in history?” He pulls out a chair next to you, settling into it.

You hesitate before speaking, your voice calm but guarded,  “More of a future person.” 

Before he can respond, Rafe’s groan passes his lips. “Yeah I didn’t listen to a word you said, okay? How much are you gonna keep philosophizing?” 

Your skin prickles with unease at the sharp edge of Singh’s tone as he chuckles from beside you, “You are direct, aren’t you Mr. Cameron?” 

The two men lock eyes, in a silent stand-off. The tension rises another notch before you decide to speak again, “What do you need from me?” you whisper. 

Singh’s gaze refuses to waver from Rafe’s, his words slow and deliberate. “I’ve come to believe that you and your friends are in possession of something that can help me get what I want.” 

The accusation settles with a thud and you observe the surprise flash through Rafe’s gaze, even though he fights to keep his expression neutral. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat, “Which is?” 

Singh’s gaze finally breaks Rafe’s, his attention shifting towards you. “An old manuscript. A diary, actually.” From the corner of your eyes, you feel Rafe’s gaze slide over your features, his eyes lingering with curiosity. There’s a small shift in his expression - like he’s trying to read you, but you refuse to break your stare from Singh’s. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Rafe says, his voice sharp,  causing both you and Singh to look at him. You exhale an anxious breath, trying to steady yourself.  “This is ridiculous. I don’t know anything about a diary.” You lie, forcing the words to sound natural as they leave your mouth. 

Singh's gaze sharpens, his eyes narrowing as if he can read right through your facade. “But how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?” he presses. 

Your pulse quickens as you shake your head, trying to divert the conversation, “Look, I want to help you, but I can’t.” 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” Singh’s tone rings with thinly veiled frustration.

You tense at his response, your fists clenching anxiously in your lap. Without warning, you feel a soft pressure against your leg. You freeze, your eyes darting downwards, catching Rafe’s leg pressed against your own. The unexpected contact brings a jolt of warmth through your body. When you glance back up at him, the tautness shows in his shoulders and his gaze is heavy on Singh. The tension in the air is palpable, but just for a moment, it feels as if you’re not facing this alone. 

The feeling quickly retreats as Singh’s voice echoes through the room, his tone laced with menace. “Because unfortunately, I don’t believe you.”  You swallow around the thickness of your throat, barely noticing the subtle motion of Rafe’s shoe tracing up and down your leg. The quiet gesture stirs something deep inside of you, a mix of comfort and tension, but you push it to the side. 

“You and your friend here couldn’t have found the cross without it.” Singh continues, assessing you both. 

“He’s not my friend.” You respond sharply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. A flicker of sorrow races through you as you feel the weight of Rafe’s leg leave your own, irritation flashing through his eyes. 

You glance over at him, the apology right on your lips, ready to break free before Singh speaks up again, “We can’t all be friends, you know.” 

The words hit hard and before you can process them, Rafe suddenly pushes back from his seat, “Look, this is ridiculous. Okay? I’m out.” he mutters, stepping back as if to walk out.  “I don’t know anything about a diary, okay? So-” 

But before he can finish, he’s shocked into silence as a gasp escapes your lips. You watch as a guard steps from the shadows, the barrel of his gun resting coldly against Rafe’s chest. 

“Do I look like a fool to you, Mr. Cameron?” Singh’s voice raises sharply although you can’t tear your gaze away from the sight of Rafe standing motionless, his chest still pressed against the barrel. 

Singh stands, his eyes a constant weight on Rafe.  “Do I look like a fool to you?” he repeats, enunciating each word.

For a moment, everything feels suspended in time. Your body relaxes slightly as Rafe finally steps away from the gun, shrugging his shoulders defiantly.

“You have the cross.” Singh sighs, his tone accusing. “She and her friends had the cross at one point. So one of you has the diary.”

Rafe’s eyes find yours, concern lingering in his expression as he catches the sight of your tears threatening to spill over. It’s gone in a split second as he braces himself for Singh’s next words, “And if you really don’t know,” he continues, “then I suggest you convince your friend to tell me.” 

Through your tears, your gaze remains locked on Rafe’s profile as you try to read the expression in his eyes. 

“Once I have the diary, you’ll be free to leave. I must warn you though,” Singh pauses meaningfully, “I’m not a man of infinite patience.” 

You stand, trembling slightly as he gestures with his hands to follow him back up the stairs and into the room you were in earlier. His words are a chilling promise: “You have one day.”

As you climb the stairs, you try to blink back the tears as the tension is taut through Rafe’s shoulders. When you reach the room, Singh’s smirk rings through his tone, “Go to the window for a little demonstration.” He pats Rafe on the shoulder aggressively before adding, “I think you’ll enjoy it, you know.”

He walks back down the hallway, the guards slamming the door shut on you both. 

“Hey,” Rafe growls, the anger finally boiling over.  “Hey!” he grunts as he pulls desperately at the handle, “You’re just done talking? Hey!” 

The sound of the lock clicking causes you to realize how trapped you are. “It’s locked.” you mumble, the weight of the situation falling heavily onto your shoulders. Rafe whips his head to look at you, frustration flashing in his eyes.

You stalk towards the window, Rafe following closely behind. Pulling open the curtains, you hear the sound of a man's voice filter through the window. “Hey. I didn’t do nothing man.”

“Who is that guy?” Rafe mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice is closer to you than you expected, his warmth pressing into you as you stand side by side.

 “I know him,” you answer, your voice tinged with confusion. “It’s Jimmy Portis.” 

Rafe snaps towards you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “He was trying to help me.” you whisper. 

Your body tenses as you spot Singh moving outside, his eyes locked on yours. The smirk on his face is evident as he pulls a gun from his waistband. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe mutters, his body instinctively moving closer to yours as you both flinch.

The sound of a gunshot splinters harshly through the air. You and Rafe gasp in unison as the sound echoes throughout the room, your eyes widening in terror. “No…” the word escapes from your lips as the tears finally push over the edge. 

Rafe’s gaze is unwavering on your profile as he watches with intensity and a hint of desperation. “This diary,” Rafe whispers, his voice raw,  “No bullshit. Please don’t bullshit me, okay?” he pleads, “Do you have it?”

Your silence that follows is thick with tension as the weight of his question settles through the room, your heart hammers in your chest. The internal battle tears at you - the need to protect your brother, and the harsh realization that Rafe may be the only one that can help you now. 

“Baby?” Rafe’s voice cracks as the old nickname surges through your heart. The way he says it - pleading and full of concern, makes your decision that much harder. 

“No.” The lie is out before you can second-guess yourself. You say it with fake certainty, praying he believes you, even as betrayal sinks through your body.

One look at his face tells you he doesn’t. The guarded expression flashes back over his features, irritation in his eyes as he pulls away from you and the window, attempting to process the lie.

“You forget I used to know you, y/n.”

[kanasbinwriting]

Hello! Could you possibly write a Sol x gn reader where the reader calls Sol and tells him to come inside and cuddle with them because they've been tired mentally and emotionally and just want to be held? And that they actually know that he's been sneaking in their apartment but they don't really care and actually they find it a little cute

Also I'm sorry if this sounds awkward, I don't know how to words things properly 😅

SOL X READER

Thank you so much for your request ^^ I really enjoyed writing this!! I hope I did an okay job

Fun fact, I'm actually working on making a Sol figure out of clay 💪

Anyway, enjoy!!

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It was dark outside; nothing could be heard but the wind rustling through the leaves and the occasional hum of cars driving by. You felt tired, but no matter how hard you tried to fall asleep, nothing worked—the stress consuming you whole.

You sat up on your bed, trying some breathing exercises you saw online to calm your racing mind, but to no success. Your mind was occupied with all sorts of things that caused you a great immense of stress and you couldn't help but feel emotionally drained as a result. Oh, to have someone hold you close right now. You let out a small whine as you rubbed your eyes. You glanced over at your phone charging on the bedside table, thinking to yourself. Sol, wouldn't mind if you called him, right? You picked up your phone and checked the time. Sol should be on his way right now. But waiting for him would be a bit awkward, you doubted that he'd even go near your window if he saw that you were still awake. You looked to your bedside table once more, where a glass of orange juice stood untouched, waiting for you to take a sip. You could just drink it and let the sleeping pills do their work, or at least that's what you think that he'd put in your drink to ensure you'd be sound asleep around the time he arrived for his nightly visits.

With a deep sigh, you decided to not drug yourself tonight. Maybe you could just give him a call. It wouldn't come off as weird, right? In all defence, he was the one breaking into your apartment every night. If anyone was weird then it was definitely him and not you for calling him at this ungodly hour. You tapped on his contact and raised your phone to your ear, calling him. No answer. Was he asleep? No way. He wouldn't be. You looked at your phone in disbelief and tried it again after a few seconds. You stood up from your bed and made your way toward the window when he finally picked up.

"H-Hello..?" He greeted you in a hushed tone.

You let out a chuckle.

"Are you serious?" You asked playfully.

"Huh?" Sol replied in complete confusion. "What do you mean...?" his tone shifted nervously, but before he could question further, you cut him off with a smug grin.

"Look up." Now looking down at him from your open window.

He froze and went completely silent, not daring to move a single muscle.

"W-what—"

You hung up and leaned further out the window.

"Why, hello there!" You called, winking unbeknownst to him.

He slowly raised his head to look at you and the look on his face was priceless. You gave him a knowing smile, waiting for him to say something. "I can explain...!" He stammered, raising his hands in defence.

"Can you now?" You settled your chin in your hand, your elbow propped up on your windowsill.

"I-I was... just going for a walk" You looked at him with a bored expression on your face

"Oh, really?"

"Yes." He nodded trying to look confident. He might've convinced you if it weren't for his all-black outfit and mask. With a sigh, you decided to end the senseless interrogation.

"Just come inside."

"What...?!" He exclaimed loudly in bewilderment.

"You... want me to come inside?"

"That's what I said, yes."

You walked away from your window and sat on your bed. It took Sol a few seconds to process what had just happened. He pinched his cheek to confirm he wasn't dreaming. Upon realising that it was, in fact, real, he quickly but carefully climbed to your apartment. As he slipped in through your window, making sure to close the window, he now stood before you, his face flushed crimson red. You let out a yawn and made yourself comfortable on your bed to which his breath slightly stutters."Can we cuddle?"

"What...?" he stammered, looking taken aback. "I said, can we cuddle?" You repeated, motioning for him to join you. He hesitated for a moment before muttering a quiet "Fuck it..." before walking toward you. He awkwardly tried to make himself comfortable next to you, keeping his arms close to himself, too nervous to touch you. His whole body tensed when you, without warning, wrapped your arms around him snuggling your head against his neck. Inhaling his scent, you let out a contented sigh. He lets you wrap your limbs around him, sensing that there's something wrong. He began to ease up in your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and began to gently stroke your head.

"Thank you..." You whispered quietly against his neck and he felt a shudder run down his spine. "No problem..." He whispered back, as a lovesick expression appeared on his face. Not paying him any mind you closed your eyes and slowly began to drift off to sleep in his his embrace.

[runnning-outof-time]

If It’s Meant to Be | John Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: John Shelby x fem!Reader

Summary: John and (Y/N) were friends when they were younger. Life, as life does, pulls them apart for some time before they find each other again while (Y/N) is helping someone who happened to be lost.

Warnings: season 4 spoilers…maybe?? (I’m re-writing canon to make things better), language

Word Count: 4450

A/N: if I’m being honest I quite enjoyed following your prompt/request, anon! I hope I was able to add everything you were hoping into it and that it turned out along the lines of what you were imagining! I’m sorry that it’s taken ages for me to share. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

comment/message me if you want to be tagged!

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be. That phrase gets thrown around so much. John Shelby always thought that he and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were meant to be. But things didn’t quite work out that way…at first.

They were practically inseparable as teens. All it took was one meeting near the cut for the two to know that they wanted to be in each others lives for as long as possible.

Wherever (Y/N) was, John was to be found close by. If John was out doing something, nine times out of ten (Y/N) was helping out in some way.

Family members often joked that the two were attached at the hip. Ada even went as far as to conspire with (Y/N)’s younger sister, the two saying that they were excited to become future sister-in-laws.

But things don’t always work out to plan.

The dream of the families uniting as one through John and (Y/N)’s union crumbled slowly rather than it just being one, major blow.

(Y/N) started delving more into her studies; having big dreams of graduating and going further in schooling so that she could make something of herself. She’d always wanted to have more than just the lower-level jobs that Small Heath had to offer. She still tried to see John as much as she could, but the nights that were once spent gallivanting around the streets together had now been swapped for study sessions.

John couldn’t be completely mad at his friend. He wanted her to succeed and have the life that she was dreaming of. Sure he missed her company, and truly relished in the time that they were still able to spend together, but to say that he was now left completely in his lonesome would be a lie.

John met Martha Davies when she and her family moved to Small Heath.

Unlike how he was with (Y/N), who he tried so hard to hide his deeper feelings for behind the mask of friendship, John immediately went forward with expressing his desire to get to know Martha better.

While (Y/N) was busy with studying, John was busy with Martha. It was easy to tell how quickly the two had fallen for each other.

The news - though it really shouldn’t have given how quickly the two became…acquainted with each other - came as a shock just only six months into John knowing Martha. Hell, (Y/N) had only met her a handful of times before John was excitedly telling her the news that Martha was pregnant and he was going to be a father.

(Y/N) should have been happy for him. And on the outside she tried her best to present her emotions that way. But deep down, her real feelings that she’d been harboring towards her friend for years now were being crushed. She always pushed them aside for fear that he only purely saw her as a friend; for the fear that her revealing them would cause him to run from her life forever. Now there was no way that he’d ever know of them.

John, who was just a few months shy from his final teenage year, was now going to be a husband and father — he felt it was only right that he marry Martha given the fact that they’d now share a child.

If John was going to grow up this suddenly, (Y/N) felt that she should to. Her prelininary studies were finished and she was ready to go and make something of herself.

And so she moved to London, one step closer to her dream but many miles away from the person who grew up alongside her.

— 1924 —

Ada was the first to learn that (Y/N) was back in town. She didn’t waste any time in inviting her to what the Shelby woman promised would be ‘an amazing evening’.

Many things had changed since (Y/N) had last seen the Shelbys. One of the more major ones was the fact that they had quickly rose into wealth and power.

On this particular evening, Tommy and his new wife, Grace, were holding one of their regular events; where people of power and prospective business partners gathered to shake hands and attempt to make deals. It was a circle that (Y/N) felt she was so far removed from.

Ada’s persistence was hard to ignore though. She kept focusing on the fact that it was a different sort of event for the family invovled, and that everyone would be thrilled to see her again. (Y/N) couldn’t deny the fact that she, too, would be overjoyed to see the Shelbys again…even if it meant that her heart might break.

She made sure to wear one of her more sophisticated outfits and that her appearance was as perfect as it could get. When the time to leave arrived, she checked over herself in the mirror one last time before grabbing her clutch and heading down to the car that was waiting for her.

The manor she pulled up to left her in awe. Never did she expect to be welcomed into a place as grand as this. But if there was anyone in her life, past or present, who could be capable of obtaining this sort of grandeur, it would no doubt be Tommy Shelby.

“(Y/N)!” Of course Ada was the first person to find her. “I’m so happy you came!” the brunette exclaimed as she hasitly pulled her into a hug.

“You doubted I would?” (Y/N) asked, trying to focus on her friend rather than the crowd of people present in the grand foyer area of the manor. If there’s this many people in the entry room, how many would be in the banquet hall? she thought to herself.

“Never,” the other woman shook her head, “come with me. The others will be so excited that you’re here!” she then said, taking hold of (Y/N)’s forearm so that she could lead her into the banquet hall. (Y/N) hesitantly followed, not quite wanting to see the man she used to call ‘best friend’ just yet.

Thankfully Ada pulled her to Polly first. (Y/N) was happy to see her. Polly was just as much an aunt to her as she was the Shelby siblings. And, much like Ada had promised, the older woman was thrilled to see her again.

Time quickly slipped away and (Y/N) truly felt like the tiny group that had been assembled were the only ones in the room. She quickly slipped into a comfortable state, the crowds of people truly disappearing as the women caught up on everything they’d missed out on in the others’ lives.

Ada was the first to be pulled away. She was found by one of the house’s staff — which blew (Y/N)’s mind…Tommy had staff now?! — who needed her because Karl was becoming restless and ready for bed. She promised that she’d only be gone briefly and that she’d find Polly and (Y/N) again as soon as she was finished.

Polly got pulled away too. Tommy needed her to meet a prospective business partner. He greeted (Y/N) warmly — after he realized it was her — and expressed his gladness to see her before asking his aunt to join him for a moment.

Now (Y/N) was alone in this crowded hall of people. She stood and did some crowd-watching for some time (people just being people truly fascinated her) before deciding to go and find some refreshments to indulge in.

But she didn’t make it to said refreshments table…and it seemed that she wasn’t the only person who was alone at the party.

Although there were people moving all around, it seemed as though she was the only person who noticed the small boy who was cowering into himself with fear present in his eyes.

Cautiously, and with a friendly smile, she approached the child, whose bottom lip was quivering. It was evident that he’d been crying. “Do you need help, sweetheart?” she asked him, keeping her voice calm and level in hopes to not spook him any more than he already had been.

The boy only nodded his head, his wide eyes matching hers. The desperation present in them nearly broke (Y/N)’s heart.

“Are you hurt?” she asked a question.

The boy shook his head, ringing his small hands together.

(Y/N) inwardly sighed in relief. At least he’s not hurt, she thought to herself, now what could be the matter? After racking her brain, she asked another question, “are you looking for someone?”

The boy nodded this time. More relief filled (Y/N)’s body. He said nothing in addition to his nod, though, so she still had some more questions to ask.

“A friend?” she asked, remembering that she’d seen several children running around the room earlier.

The boy shook his head.

“A grown up?”

The boy nodded.

Ok, on the right track, (Y/N) thought, nodding along with him. “Your parents?” she asked.

“M-my dad,” the boy finally spoke, his mouse-like voice breaking (Y/N)’s heart. What he said next shattered it even further into pieces, “my mummy’s not here anymore. She…my aunt said she went to heaven.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, sweetie,” (Y/N) gave her condolences with a frown. “How about we go find your dad, hmm?” she then asked, offering another friendly smile.

“Ok,” the boy nodded, reaching his hand out for (Y/N) to take. The woman smiled as she accepted it, and the two began walking, searching through the crowd for his father.

“Let me know if you see him, ok?” (Y/N) said to the boy. She’d just realized that she had no idea who his father was.

“Johnny there you are!” a young girl exclaimed, her eyes set on the boy (Y/N) had been helping.

“We were looking everywhere for you!” a second girl chimed in.

(Y/N) looked down at the boy, whose expression hadn’t changed. She crouched down slightly to be more on his level. “Do you know them?” she asked him.

The boy nodded. “They’re my sisters,” he answered, his eyes still focused on the girls, who were now approached them.

“Who are you, miss?” the older of the two girls asked once they stopped in front of (Y/N) and the boy.

“My name’s (Y/N),” the woman introduced herself with a smile, “your brother was lost and needed some help finding your dad.”

“Well we don’t know where dad is either,” the younger of the two girls stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “but Johnny can come with us. We’re dancing.”

(Y/N) looked to the boy, who had calmed down significantly now. “Is it ok if you stay with your sisters?” she asked, her eyebrows raised slightly.

The boy nodded his head, the slightest of smiles now present on his face. (Y/N) smiled back, happy that he was no longer upset. But he caught her hand before she was able to stand up straight again. “Will you stay with us, Miss (Y/N)?” he asked in a sweet voice.

The question really wasn’t up for decision in (Y/N)’s mind. She knew her answer right away. Hell, she had nothing else better to do, or no one else she needed to see…so why not pass the time with these kids? “Of course,” she answered with a smile, laughing softly as the three children all cheered in joy. The little group wasted no time falling into beat with the music and dancing with smiles on their faces.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Polly and Ada had regrouped and were now watching her and the children as they danced.

“I wonder if she knows,” Ada queried out loud, watching her friend dance with her neices and nephew with a small smile.

“I don’t think she does,” Polly answered, shaking her head. A tight-lipped smile was also present on her face.

“You two seen any of the kids anywhere?” the voice of John Shelby came from behind the ladies, “ran off a while ago…haven’t fucking seen them since.”

Ada and Polly shared a look, both biting back smiles. John was able to catch said look.

“Well go on…share it,” he pressed them, his brow furrowing in annoyance. He didn’t have time for this…there were drinks to drink and ladies to charm. If they thought he’d be spending the entire evening chasing after his children, they’d be dead wrong.

“Your youngest was up with Karl. He was asleep when I went to attend to him,” Ada shared some information about Maxwell Shelby, John’s four year old.

“And the others?” John’s brows were now raised.

“They’re right over there,” Polly answered, pointing a finger in the direction of the dancing group.

John wasted no time following her finger and when he did, his world stopped. No. That…that couldn’t be her…could it? Questions raced through his mind as memories flooded back. God, she looks more beautiful than the day she left me, he was so entranced that he just about forgot how to breathe.

“John?”

The voice of his aunt brought him back to reality, and he shook his head as he snapped out of the trance she put him in. A hand went up to scratch the back of his neck instinctively, and he hoped that he could play off his staring. The grins on both of the women’s faces told another story.

“He didn’t hear a word you said, Pol,” Ada snickered, loving the fact that she was able to poke fun at her brother.

“Oh fuck off,” John grumbled, trying so hard to keep his focus on his family and not the beautiful woman that was still playing with his children. A silence fell between the trio and John took it to do just what he was stopping himself from moments ago. “I…I, uh, I should…” he stopped his babbling, clearing his throat and trying to regain his wits. Christ, just the sight of her had him babbling like a fucking child. “I should probably uh, probably go over and see how they’re getting on,” his statement sounded more like a suggestion…which was weird because he was essentially suggesting for himself to go and do it.

“Go on then,” Polly wasted no time in agreeing with her nephew, motioning over to where (Y/N) and the children still were.

“Yeah,” John agreed, like it wasn’t even his idea in the first place. He didn’t move though.

“Grow a pair and get on with it, John,” Ada snapped him out of the trance he once again fell into, still grinning at the fact that John was very much acting like a lovesick fool at the moment. In fact she hadn’t seem him like this since…well since he was around (Y/N).

With one last glare, John finally heeded to their nudges and started off in (Y/N)’s direction. Her back was to him as he approached, and she was dancing with his eldest son, Johnny. His daughters, Jane and Katie, did see him coming though, their eyes lighting up when they realized he was there.

“Daddy!” they exclaimed in unison.

The yelling of the girls made (Y/N) stop what she was doing and turn. Seeing the person who they’d addressed made the breath get caught in her throat. No. It can’t be, she thought to herself, her heartrate quickening by the second.

John was - also - back to staring again. He still couldn’t believe that she was standing right in front of him.

“Dad…dad, did you hear me?” the sound of Katie’s impatient voice brought him back to reality. He focused in on his daughter as he heard the sweet sounds of (Y/N)’s giggles. They made it feel like there was heat being placed on the back of his neck.

“I…I didn’t, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he sheepishly answered his child.

“I was telling you that this is (Y/N). She found Johnny and then agreed to stay and dance with us. She’s really nice,” Katie explained again.

Her being referred to gave John the go ahead to look at (Y/N) again. This time he willed himself to stay focused and not get lost in the memories they shared together, or how beautiful she looked.

“She helped me because I was crying and didn’t know where anyone was,” Johnny shared, “she’s really friendly. I think we could all be friends.”

John couldn’t help but chuckle a little as he watched (Y/N) stiffle her laugh. “Yeah, Johnny, I, uh…I—” God you look like a babbling fool right now, get ahold on yourself, John-boy, was ringing out in John’s mind.

(Y/N) watched him intently, waiting to hear how he would address the past between them. Would he address the past between them?

“I used to know (Y/N)…we used to be best friends when we was younger,” he finally shared with the children, feeling silly for holding his breath as he waited for their response.

There was a moment’s pause as the three little Shelbys looked at each other. It felt like eternity to the two adults, who looked as if they wanted to say so much to each other. Soon smiles formed on the children’s faces.

“That’s great that you’re already friends with her, daddy!” Katie exclaimed, beaming up at John.

“When can she come over?” Jane eagerly asked, her question making (Y/N) laugh as her heart bursted with love.

“That’ll be up to her,” John answered, laughing at his childrens innocent questions, the heat still creeping up his neck.

“Your father and I will have to talk about it,” (Y/N) added her own response, a sweet smile present on her features. She then looked at John, her expression telling him that they’d have to find each other later to catch up.

“Please talk about it later, daddy!” Johnny exclaimed, a pleading look present on his face.

“I will, Johnny, I will,” he assured the boy, nodding both to him and to (Y/N), silently accepting her invitation.

(Y/N) was resting against one of the balconies on the side terrace of the manor later that evening when she heard footsteps approaching her. She didn’t bother to turn and look; having a good idea of who could be coming.

“You followed through with the invitation,” she commented as John came to a rest beside her.

“Always do, angel,” John responded, his usage of her old nickname making her heart flutter.

It was one that he frequently used when they were younger…she was always doing the right thing; always acting like an angel. John loved to call her it in a teasing manner and though she’d wrinkle her nose up when he used it, she secretly loved it. Tonight, however, he used it in a sincere manner, and it just about made (Y/N) weak at the knees.

“You don’t know how surprised I was when I saw you with me kids,” John admitted then, looking out at the grounds his brother owned.

“The surprise was pretty clear on your face, John,” (Y/N) responded, giggling as his eyes shot to match hers; wide in surprise.

“Never was good at hiding stuff from you,” he said in a sheepish tone, shaking his head. “How’d you find out about this?” he asked then.

“Ada found out I was back in town. She invited me,” she answered. John made a mental note to thank his sister later. “It was nice meeting your kids,” she said with a smile.

“They’ll probably talk about you for days,” he said with a laugh, looking away from her for a moment. “Only good things I’ve left,” he mused, his tone sounded solemn.

Silence fell between them as (Y/N) chewed on her bottom lip, wondering if she should offer her condolences or not. She didn’t know if the wounds were still fresh, or when it had even happened. “I’m sorry about Martha, John,” she finally said.

“I am, too,” he responded, looking down at his feet as he took a deep breath, “feel bad for those kids most of all. They didn’t really even get to know her.”

“That must’ve been tough,” (Y/N) mused.

“It was…” John agreed, “it has been,” he then corrected.

“I’m home now, so I’m…”

“You’re home?” John cut into her statement, his eyes widening as they found hers again.

“I am,” she affirmed, smiling softly before continuing, “I’d be happy to help you with your kids if you need at all.”

John smiled as he heard what she said. He couldn’t lie, he was suprised by how gracious she was being. There were a thousand words he wanted to say, but all he was able to get out was: “thank you, (Y/N).”

For her, it was enough.

Silence fell between them once again as (Y/N) wrestled with yet another thought; one that she’d been wanting to say since he joined her outside. After a few moments, she finally took the leap and said it.

“You know, I always thought we’d end up together…I always thought that it’d be us,” she made sure to train her eyes on the darkened landscape as she spoke. She couldn’t handle seeing John’s expression as it changed.

“I…” John hesitated.

“That wasn’t me trying to insert myself into anything. I’m sorry if it sounded that way,” she scrambled to cover up, not even thinking of how he could have taken her admission. “I just…I wanted that to be known. I spent too long dancing around it without saying what I felt,” she took a deep breath, debating on whether to add anything more. There was one more thing she was burning to say, “I had-have a lot of love for you, John.”

It took a few moments for him to digest what she had said. Never did he think that she’d be admitting these feelings to him. He always thought that he’d have to keep his boxed away for the rest of his life. But now she’d put hers out in the open, it would be silly of him to withhold his.

“Hey,” he started, wanting to get her to look at him before he shared his confession. His one word statement succeeded in getting her eyes to match his. “I’ve always loved you, (Y/N),” he admitted, his voice holding a sincereness he hadn’t used in a while.

“You’re being serious?” she asked, the corners of her lips twitching as she wanted to smile so big right now.

“So serious,” he whispered, smiling as he spoke.

“I…” she paused to let out a laugh, feeling so silly for what she was about to admit to him, “I really wanna kiss you right now, John Shelby.”

“Then kiss me, (Y/N),” he wasted no time in agreeing to what she was suggesting, slowly moving to rest his hands on her waist. He was gentle in his touch, silently letting her know that she could break away if she wanted. She didn’t.

(Y/N) reached to take hold of his jacket’s lapels before leaning in slightly. John got the message, meeting her halfway so that their lips could—finally— meet. The — what felt like — lifetime’s wait for this moment was most certainly worth it.

— Three Years Later —

“Katie!” (Y/N) called out, knowing that the eldest child was in the next room over. Her joyful scream was a distinctive one, and the woman was able to hear it amongst at least two others. It didn’t take long before the girl appeared in the archway of the room John and (Y/N) were sitting in.

“Yes?” she asked, trying to catch her breath. It was obvious that she’d been playing.

“I need you and your siblings to try and keep your voices down, ok?” (Y/N) kindly asked.

“Why’s that, mum?” the young girl inquired.

(Y/N) froze before she could give her answer, her mouth agape. Katie had just called her ‘mum’.

Thankfully John was able to step in and continue the conversation—because it had became obvious to him that (Y/N) couldn’t. “Because mum’s just gotten Ella to sleep. We don’t want her to wake again,” he explained, motioning to the baby that was sleeping on (Y/N)’s chest.

“Ok, dad,” Katie conceded without a fight. Both John and (Y/N) gave a soft thanks and watched as she went to leave. She’d only moved from the arch for a second before returning to say one last thing, “you should know that it’s really Max who was making all of the noise.”

Her statement made both adults laugh. “Go on,” John waved her off. The girl gave one more toothy smile before running off to her siblings.

“Did she…?” (Y/N) finally got out, surprise laced into her words.

“She did,” John grinned as he looked at his wife, “mum.”

It may have seemed like nothing special to someone looking on, but to (Y/N), what just happened was monumental. This was the first time Katie Shelby had called her mum.

(Y/N) and John hardly spent a moment separated since the night they rekindled their friendship…which quickly turned into a relationship…which quickly turned into them getting married and having a child together.

With their dear little Eloise being born just five months ago, both felt that their family was now perfect. But even though (Y/N) took on the role of mother to John’s four children in every sense of the term, she never forced the kids to address her by the name. Martha was their mum, and not even her being gone could change that.

One by one, though, the kids began calling her mum. Katie was the last to hold out. The eldest girl would always address her as ‘(Y/N)’, and (Y/N) was perfectly fine with that. Which is why when the girl used the ‘m-word’ just now, she froze in her tracks. She couldn’t help but blush as she looked at John, who was grinning like a fool.

“She called me mum,” she whispered again, more to herself than anything.

“She did,” John repeated, his voice soft as he smiled at his wife.

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be is the phrase that always gets thrown around. Luckily — thankfully — for John and (Y/N), it was meant to be.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @the-anxious-youth @mystcldydrms @look-at-the-soul @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing

@evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings @watercolorskyy

@strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @stevie75 @dark-academia-slut

@zablife @cillmequick @letal-y-poetica @depxiety @shelundeadxxxx

@red-riding-wood @padfootdaredmetoo @crabat-the-queen @sebastianstangirl01 @everythingelseisextra

@kmc1989 @papichulo120627 @brummiereader @adaydreamaway08 @justrainandcoffee

@peakyltd @johannelis2302nely @ce1iat @wildheartsalwaysburn @dragons-are-my-favorite

@jessimay89 @slaymybreathaway @mysticalfuncollectorus @sleepyycatt @novashelby

[shewrites444]

pretty [ art donaldson x babysitter/age gap! reader smut ]

[ Hiii me popping up on here for the first time in forever lmao. I've been on a Challengers kick lately, let me know if I should write more on Art perhaps. :D ]

WC - 3.5k (unedited story, so apologies for any errors)

[ Summary - The reader and Art have been having an affair for the past few months after she became the Donaldsons' occasional babysitter. A lot of porn with a slight plot. ]

[ Warnings - Age gap (reader is college-aged, art is in his like mid-thirties), cursing, cheating/affair, oral (m&f receiving), dirty talk, tiny breeding kink mention, unprotected sex ]

-

It's not like it mattered to Tashi, well, anymore, what her husband did in his free time. A year or so ago, when Art found out about Tashi and Patrick's on-going affair at their challenger, he felt crushed, defeated, sickened, all emotions jumbled into one component, knowing what his wife was doing behind closed doors since they were teenagers. No amount of "I love you's" could make her drawn closer to him, no amount of care, compassion.. nothing. I mean, it would only make sense that an affair that lasted over ten years, especially with his former best friend and teammate, would fundamentally fuck up their marriage.

Tashi tried to fix it, she really did, by cutting off all connections to Patrick, promising Art she'd be better for not only him, but their daughter, Lily, and the careers and finances they shared together. She knew all the logic behind an affair was unjustifiable, and it made sense to fix a marriage with someone who genuinely cared for her and the family, careers, and finances they created together.

Art stopped playing tennis that year, and like they had promised each other months before, decided to work on the foundation full time, and with newer responsibilities, came the need for a sitter that wasn't only one of their parents when Art had a game or two.

That's where you came into the picture.

You were an undergraduate student at NYU, about to graduate in the spring with a heavy need for any sort of finances to help you afford your rent the rest of the semester. Knowing that your niece was in class with Art and Tashi Donaldson's daughter, that set up a fairly easy connection to a potential babysitting gig. They were millionaires, hell, maybe even billionaires at this point, so you'd be bound to get a pretty solid paycheck.

You were in luck. They needed an occasional sitter on the weekends, and a handful of nights during the week, and given that they both knew your sister, you were already trusted. Easy money.

You got along with Lily pretty well, too. Not to mention the Donaldsons were kind to you as well, and the amount of money they gave you for watching their one daughter, who was pretty self-sufficient other than needing to have a bedtime story or two read to her each night, was fucking ridiculous. Not like you were rolling in dough, but they surely overpaid you. Not like that was a problem for either parties, though.

Overtime, you talked more to Art when Tashi was starting to have more meetings, interviews, and other miscellaneous tasks that required her attention as they expanded connections to the foundation. At first, it was a bit awkward, given that when babysitting, usually the dad was a bit more absent, or quiet, but he warmed up to you after a few nights. He'd ask you about how Lily was, even ask you about school, or what you wanted to do after graduation, pay you, and that was really it. It was simple, really, until it wasn't.

And here you were, months later, standing at the small kitchen island in your apartment, which was, frankly, a bit inhumane in size for an inhabitant, but it's New York City, and it's what you could afford, even on the Donaldson's payroll. You had a small salad bowl in front of you, sliding the grape tomatoes off the cutting board in your hand into the mixture, as no other than Art Donaldson stood next to you, the tongs in his hand as you handed him the bowl.

Playing house with a married 35-year-old man wasn't on your list of things to do this year, but it's not like you were complaining.

From an outside perspective, it felt wrong, but to you, it felt just right. It was cliche, and well, bad, being apart of an affair for a multi-millionaire last name, and a man that was married, with a whole family, but you tried not to think about it.

Did you love him? You had never been in love, so you didn't really know, but probably not, at least not yet. Did he love you? You didn't think so, but he definitely favored you more than his own wife, and you weren't even thinking that because of the situation, you genuinely knew he preferred you.

"You want me to put a show on?" Art asked softly, glancing down at you as you walked over to the kitchen, rinsing off the cutting board. His eyes averted to your ass, glancing at the sweat shorts that hugged your figure, before looking up to meet your eyes when you turned around.

You knew he checked you out, it's not like that came to a surprise. Art was sweet, really, but it's not like he wasn't a sexual man because he was older. If anything, that made his sex drive higher. You shrugged, sliding past him to open the fridge and grab the salad dressing. "Eh, I'm good with whatever."

You can hear him set the bowl down, and his free hand travel to the side of your waist, over the thick cotton of your sweatshirt, as you grin to yourself, shaking your head while you set the dressing on the counter. "Shouldn't we eat first?"

"Just missed you today." Art muttered, lightly turning you around to face him before giving your forehead a light peck. "Haven't seen you all week, pretty."

Your cheeks redden, and the familiar pit in your stomach follows directly after. Fuck. Art was older than you, yes, but an emotional man at the fact of it, but he was so fucking needy. He'd come see you, not even two or three days between, and act like it had been two months without contact. He'd lay his head on your chest, play with your fingers, tell you how much he missed you, all because you hadn't seen him in not even a week. From the outside, that probably looked pathetic, a married man, who had a wife and child at home, coming to a college-aged girl's apartment, not even the size of his bedroom, cuddling her like he was a teenager. It was fucking toxic, actually, but again, you tried not to think about that part of it.

"Well, why don't we eat, and then you can show me that you missed me later, hm? That okay?" You step back slightly to look up to him, reaching forward to cup his rose-tinted, pale cheeks. You lean up to kiss him, pulling away to slide out of his embrace, your eyes following the meal you had just made together.

Art was pouting, basically, as he frowned at the corner of his mouth, walking towards the other side of you and gently taking the tongs out of your hand. "I'd rather show you now. You can't tell me you don't want me to fuck you right here, sweetheart."

"Art." You purse your lips together, shooting him a glare. You could pretend to be annoyed all you want, but he knew you weren't aggravated with him. It's not like you didn't enjoy him fucking the shit out of you on your kitchen counter, or anywhere, matter of fact. He'd fuck you right in your car when he walked you out of his house after babysitting, he didn't give a fuck. He liked you a lot, way more than he should, even in the given scenario of an affair.

"What?" He tilted his head, looking down at you with that stupid cheeky-ass grin he'd always give you when he knew you were fibbing. You wanted him, obviously. Sometimes, he didn't know why you even pretended to act like you didn't want it right then and there.

Art really wasn't even the most dominating guy, but if that's what you wanted, he'd put on a fucking show. He'd bend you over and fuck the shit out of you if that's what you wanted him to do. He'd make it hurt, if that's what you wanted him to do. But again, he liked you, so he'd never actually hurt you.

You glance down between you, the obviously erection in his sweatpants pointing right at you. You look back up to him, that look of pure want on his face so obvious. You glance to your bedroom. You don't have to speak, he already knows, and he listens so fucking easily.

The chemistry between the two of you was a fucking pain sometimes. You'd be so wet when he'd do as much as touch your back, it would piss you off sometimes, and you would think that after fucking him for a few months now, that feeling of freshness would go away, but it didn't.

You'd do more than just fuck, too. If he wasn't such a public figure, he'd take you out on real date, probably try to pursue you in some way if he wasn't married, and just a more normal-status guy, but that wasn't the case. He would make efforts though, buy you flowers sometimes when he'd come over, order the two of you something to eat, whether it was Chinese takeout or a 5-star review restaurant steak, he didn't care. He just wanted to please you, the best he could. All the time.

Right now, his definition of pleasing you was gesturing for you to lay down on your twin-sized bed, and plant his face between your legs, eating your pussy until you were begging him to fuck you with something other than his tongue.

You wiggled yourself out of your shorts and underwear in one, Art assisting you by pulling them off your ankles and onto the wooden floor. He spread your knees apart, kneeling on the hard ground before his hot breath was planting kisses between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

You gulp, averting your attention to his mouth. You watch him get closer, and you can only gasp when he latches onto your clit. You feel him move his hand onto your thighs, wrapping around them from the back and holding your sides, his pale, calloused hands digging into your skin. It didn't hurt though, not at all.

"Oh my god." Leaves your mouth without a single thought. Art knew exactly how to please you. "Art, you're gonna make me cum before you even fuck me."

He looked up to you, lips still pressed against your pussy, his eyes locked with yours for a moment, before he focused his attention to your body again. He didn't care. Guess that was the point.

You shake your head in disbelief, your back naturally arching as he pressed his tongue harder against you. God, you couldn't even imagine what it was going to be like when his cock was inside you, even though you'd slept together plenty of times before.

His tongue kept pace on your clit, as he moved one of his hands off your thigh and closer to your pussy, gently pushing his middle finger through your folds. Fucking hell, as if he couldn't make you more turned on.

"Art." His name rolled off your tongue. "You're gonna make me cum. I wanna finish with you."

He listened to you, and he obliged, despite how much he wanted you to cum now. Art slowly pulled his finger out of you, and his mouth away from you. He leaned up, motioning himself on top of you, before you moved your hands to lightly push him off.

"What's wrong?" He asked, almost immediately, his eyes dropping, almost disappointed. You knew his cock was aching to be inside you.

You lean up, your hands traveling to rest against the sides of his broad shoulders. "Here. Lay down."

Art wasn't going to fight that. He eagerly nodded at your request, your positions switching in seconds as he laid down on your bed. Your hands began to pull at the waistband on his sweats, and his underwear, sliding them off his body in one.

You weren't one for sucking cock, but with Art, you fucking adored it. You liked to watch him fall apart at just your mouth, knowing that he'd crumble once he fucked your pussy. You liked edging him to the point he was whining, begging, pleading to fuck you, or you to fuck him. Just depended on the day.

"You gonna suck my cock, pretty girl?" Art asked you, softly, a half-smile on his pink lips as he moved one of his hands to cup your cheek, his elbow propping his body up slightly. "Gonna let me fuck your mouth?"

"Mhm." You murmur, nodding as you move down to spit on his cock, wetting the tip before you peck a few kisses against his tip, glancing up at him as you laid on your stomach towards the end of your bed, front of your body aligned with his middle. "Gonna let you fuck my throat, Art."

Art's grin followed the rest of his lips, his cheeks dark red as his mouth hung open. He watched you lean down, his cock enveloped by your mouth. You had pretty, plump lips. Pretty and full lashes you'd bat when he fucked your throat. He could watch you suck him off all day. He could just be with you all day.

"You're so beautiful, [Y/N]. My pretty girl." He praised you, his hand still glued to your cheek, bits of spit against his thumb as you bobbed your head, his cock hard and full in your mouth. "Gonna let me fill your mouth up, hm? Or should I fill your pussy instead? What do you want, baby?"

It's not like you could answer the question. You keep sucking him off, looking up to his blue eyes, before you force him down your throat, muffling any sort of gag that your body desperately wanted to let out. You wanted him to know you could take his cock.

"God." He moaned, his eyes never leaving yours. He rubbed your cheek. "Your mouth feel so good, but I really wanna fuck you. Please, baby. I wanna cum in you. That pretty pussy, please."

It didn't take you much convincing to slide his cock out of your mouth and lay down on your bed. It made you feel embarrassed, desperate even, with how eager you were to have him stuff his cock inside you. Not like he judged you for that at all, just internal thoughts you'd have occasionally.

He sat up, his cock hard and straight, as his knees dug into the mattress. He took his shirt off in one pull, tossing it into the pile of your combined clothes before he moved you more towards the middle of the bed. He aimed his cock at your pussy, your legs spread wide for him, before he leaned forward, slowly pushing himself inside you, the both of you moaning at the raw feeling.

Art could be rough if you wanted him to, and you'd do the same for him, but typically, he savored the moment he entered you each and every time. He'd told you several times, that you were no where near in comparison to any woman he'd been with. No competition. You were it. In every way. Part of him wished he had met you earlier, maybe at Stanford or even grade-school. God, he would've worshipped you back then, all the way to now, and the future. You checked off all his boxes, physically, emotionally, sexually, everything. In a different narrative, he would've married you and had a life with you. Fuck tennis. Fuck everything. He'd rather whatever life he could've had with you.

"You feel so good, pretty. You always do." Art leaned down to press a hard kiss against your lips. He pecked your cheek, his lips moving to your ear. "I'm gonna fill that pussy. Gonna make you mine, baby, my sweet girl.. You want that? You like that?"

You nod, your mouth open as you moan, rather loudly as he picked his pace up the more he talked to you. "Y-Yes, baby, fuck yes, fill me up. You're so fucking sexy.. You fuck me so good, Art."

Art groaned at your response, moving his head back to align above yours, his overgrown curls bouncing with his movements, the bed squeaking underneath you. He'd let his hair grow out a bit more lately since you complemented it awhile back.

"Gonna fill this pussy, pretty girl. Gonna give you my cum." He muttered, almost to himself, as he looked between your bodies at what he could see, watching himself fill your hole. It was obvious you were fucking a former pro-athlete. He could fuck you for hours if he wanted to with the amount of stamina he had, regardless of his age. It was fucking hot, how much, and how long, he could fuck you.

You could feel your orgasm increasing the more he penetrated you, the more he pulled his cock nearly out of you and forcing it back inside you, sending jolts through your body. You were already overstimulated enough from just slower sex, him fucking you like a bunny was almost too much for you to take. Not like that was a bad thing though.

"Come on." You talk to him, watching between the two of you, too. "Make me cum, baby. I wanna finish with you, Art. Please, baby. Fuck me so good."

He nods, his body rocking against yours, your legs moving up to wrap around his hips, keeping him closer, and more inside you. You wanted him to fill all of you, not missing a drop of his cum. You wanted him to make you ache when you woke up tomorrow morning.

"Fuck." He groaned, moaning into your mouth as he kissed you, his tongue sliding against yours as he came inside you.

You felt your body jolt, finishing at the same time, as he filled your pussy up. It felt so good to be on the same level, the same energy, as him. So fucking good.

He gave it a few seconds before he pulled out of you, sitting back up, making sure he fucked your right. He rolled to the side before he pulled you closer to him, his hand running through your frizzy hair, kissing the side of your forehead.

You smirked, looking up to him, a small laugh leaving your lips. "What? You can't be shocked, we've had sex so many times I can't even count it at this point."

"I'm not shocked." Art laughed, playing with your hair as he looked up to the ceiling. "It just feels so different with you. You know how much I like you, [Y/N]. Just feels good is all."

"Hm." You watch him look up. You wanted to bring something else up, more emotional topics, but, as much as you knew he did fancy you, you didn't want to fuck up the moment. "Feels good to me, too." Is all you say in return.

Art looks down at you after a moment. "Yeah?" He grins, moving closer to you as he kisses your lips. "Good."

"Yeah." You return his kiss, slightly leaning up as you look to the door. "You wanna eat now? Got your energy out?"

Art shrugs, sitting up. He pecks your bare shoulder. "Maybe not. Maybe can let the rest of it out later."

"God, you're hornier than me." You scoff, pushing him off with a red face, laughing to yourself at the man before you. "Let's eat. I'm starving."

"What you say." He smirks, clearly teasing you, before stepping out of the bed, grabbing his clothes and tossing yours to you.

And that was what was odd about you and Art. It was casual, but not in a hookup sense. Casual in the way that you could sit down and eat with him, make a meal with him, watch shows and movies together, like a normal couple. It drove you insane sometimes. He felt the same way, but how the hell could he tell you that, when he could never actually be with you? He'd have to mask it some type of way, and usually that was through sex. Not like he didn't enjoy it solely for sexual reasons, because, god, he enjoyed fucking you, but he also enjoyed you.

He watched you finish your plate as you sat on the sofa together. You were gorgeous, the perfect picture of the woman he'd want to be with for more than just this. But that was something you'd have to figure out later.

[multi-stays]

Whipped Cream

Paring: Bf Bang Chan x Gf FemReader

Genre: smut 18+, fluffy

Summary: Channie is awoken with a craving for some Whipped Cream but has nothing to eat it with……….. or does he?

Note:Happy Thanksgiving Y’all

✨💜warnings below the cut💜✨

_________________________________________

Warnings: oral sex!F receiving!, food play, straight kinky, smut 18+, reader is smol, is set after Thanksgiving

Proofread:still no sorry, if there’s an error comments are appreciated, only because I just thought about it Happy Early Thanksgiving 🍁

P.s I know there’s a few days still til Thanksgiving but it’s close enough, right? WHO cares

Walking over to the fridge wasn’t something you’d ordinarily be doing at 3 AM but knowing there was leftover pumpkin pie with your name on it made you dying for a slice.

Sneaking out of bed wasn’t an easy task, you knew better then anyone that your boyfriend Chan was a light sleeper. If you were caught you’d be forced to share and never would you hear the end of how tired he was. Being as quiet as possible you snuck out, making sure you closed the door behind you so the fridge light wouldn’t disturb him.

A few floor boards squeaked and the clock on the wall chimed causing you to jump. You were in the clear, you got out your pie and squirted a generous amount of Whipped Cream on top. Sitting back in your chair you enjoyed the sweet flavors of the pie Han made with you on Thanksgiving.

Only a few minutes had passed and the pie was already gone, thinking about how long it took you to make, it seemed pointless for how easily it disappeared. You adored every second of it tho, all the members at your place hanging out, eating to their hearts desire and not caring about their idol image.

Channie decided it was a good idea to get together every year on thanksgiving and come to an agreement about what to write on a thankful leaf to have as a “personal keepsake”as he so calls it. Some of the members thought it was a great idea, being able to look back and see what they all were most thankful for that year, others not so much.

Deep in thought you didn’t notice your boyfriend creeping up from behind you. His little face peeked at you from where he stood in the hallway. You turn to face him surprised by the way his face looked, awake and not like someone who had just been sleeping.

“I thought you were sleeping” you got no response from Chan, instead he walks over and put his arms around your neck slipping his hands down to your boobs, cupping underneath them like they were hand warmers.

“Something wrong?” You ask with a giggle but still no response, he pulls you from your chair and turns you by the chin to meet his gaze. Looking at him you see he’s staring not at your eyes but your lips, you hadn’t even noticed the Whipped Cream still on your lips from minutes ago. To nervous yet curious as is to why your boyfriend was acting so strange.

He swipes his thumb across your lip and finally answers with a soft “no”, before taking it in his mouth, moaning as he sucks on his finger. His eyes were shut and you could now tell he had a motive for his actions.

His movements were subtle but precise, like a lion stalking his prey he was trying to be sly and not startle you with his plan to make you feel good and have some fun at the same time.

“I was just not tired anymore and was awoken by the sound of the Whipped Cream bottle”

“I’m sorry babe I tried to be quiet, I know it’s hard for you to sleep” you said in a whine

“I was invaded with a thought” he said putting his hands around your waist.

“I don’t know just thought maybe I could eat some Whipped Cream, ya know?”

“You want some Whipped Cream?”

“Yea” he said in an instant, almost proud of himself.

Turning towards the counter to grab the bottle you can feel his hand slide to your thigh, the other still on your waist not letting you go from his hold.

“Here then silly have some” you said squirting some on his lips.

He giggled “I’m not the silly one, silly i need something to eat it on”

“There’s no pie left so you’ll have to get something else”

He licked the cream off his lips and rested his forehead against yours, now mere inches away from your face, you could smell his minty breath blowing into your nose.

“I want to eat it off of you Puppet”

Your breath hitched in your throat, flustered and probably beat red. The confidence in Chan’s voice making it harder for you to keep your composure.

Pulling you closer, Chan placed a sloppy wet kiss at the corner of your mouth. Slowly he crept his hand up to your neck and leaned into you further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. He pushed you back into the wall and kept you there, pressing his body against yours.

You don’t know from where but you found your confidence again, probably from realizing even tho he’s incredibly hot and the most sexy human being you’ve ever placed your eyes on, he’s still just Chan. The same Chan you go on long car rides around town with belting out your favorite songs together. The same Chan that kisses you to bed every night and says “I’ll see you tomorrow Puppet” making you feel safe and comfortable with him at all times.

You broke away from the kiss and teased him, taking of your top and spraying a small amount of Whipped Cream on your nipple. Quickly you knew you had to run, especially after that stunt you just pulled Chan was prolly rock hard and you haven’t even touched him yet.

Once inside, you laid down on the bed and made yourself comfortable while awaiting Chan’s next move.

“No need to worry Puppet, tonight’s about you and making you feel all good and taken care of, I promise”

He said it like he needed to reassure you, like you would run away if he didn’t say it. You knew Chan and reminded yourself of that, all nervousness and anxiety gone by his lil side smile and messy bleached curls that fell in his face.

Chan went to the cavern between your boobs, licking the sweet remains of the Whipped Cream that melted and slid there. Your foot found its way to Chan’s hard member in his pants, a reassuring smile against your skin as you rubbed it ever so slightly.

“God Puppet you taste so sweet” he said in between sucks.

You were squirming underneath him barely able to keep your composure with his big cloud like lips attached to you.

“Off” was all you could get yourself to say as you pulled at his shirt, he obliged pulling it over his head in one swift motion discarding it somewhere across the room. The satin feel of the skin on his pecks sent quivers down your spine, thinking of what other parts of your body would feel like dragging against it as your finger so effortlessly did now.

One breathy kiss on your skin led to the next, Chan slowly making his way down to your clothed cunt. All you had on was underwear so Chan could have easily slipped it off, but no. He did it oh so gently, delicately placing his fingers under the thin fabric and sliding it down, like you would brake if he hadn’t done it so excruciatingly slow.

He spreads open your folds pumping two fingers in, your tight walls surrounding him earning a breathy moan to escape from his lips.

“Fuck Puppet your so wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet”

Topically you didn’t want to look, to shy or embarrassed to do so but tonight was different in so many ways. You desperately wanted to see Chan pleasure you, watch him as he pumped his fingers inside you. Watch as the rings on his bony fingers disappeared and reappeared wet and glistening in the soft light. See Chan’s visual approval and the shudders that leave his body when he knows it feels good.

When Chan feels you are ready he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth, savoring your essence left on his skin, something you’ve only ever seen him do so seductively.

He cocks his head and looks at you with a devilishly cute smirk, almost to cute especially when having sex “you had your late night snack now it’s my turn” grabbing the bottle of Whipped Cream from the bedside table he sprayed a small dollop on your clit. The feeling was cold but soft and you were already so wet and so desperate for friction you could care less what was on you as long as Chan accompanied it.

Chan stared at your vagina for a few seconds smiling like an idiot, felt like hours to you just laying there all worked up and horny whilst your boyfriend admired his work.

“What is it baby I’m wasting away” you whined, clawing at his arms in desperate attempt to make him move, blink even.

“I’m sorry Puppet your cunt is just to cute, your glistening folds and an adorable bundle of nerves now fashioned with a cute dollop of Whipped Cream.”

Feeling ashamed for having whined at him, you hid your face in a nearby pillow and tried your best to stay still as Chan drug his finger over your clit, pushing some of the Whipped Cream down your slit.

He then snaps, waisting no time diving nose first into your sweet wet pussy, devouring every inch of you, sucking the Whipped Cream off you and lightly flicking your clit with his tongue.

His large frame towering over you despite him being between your legs. You were always short and small, called a runt sometimes in school, but Chan swooped in and made you feel safe, with being so large and as muscular as he is it was easy to feel so. Accompanied with all his praising words he sorta became like your safe haven.

You were a mess head flung back and your eyes sealed shut, hands roaming for something to pull. As Chan prodded his wet tongue at your hole, your hands bolted to his hair, softly tugging at his roots trying to make him go further in your sex.

His movements were sloppy, your bed was a mess, your breathing was out of control, but you felt hot, rocking your hips into Chan’s face practically suffocating him between your thighs.

Chan knew you were close before you did, was probably very easy to tell from where he was “I know your close Puppet so just move me where you need me and I’ll help you.”

You pawed at Chan’s chest as he sprayed some more Whipped Cream on your soaking cunt, couldn’t even tell cause of how wet you felt. He pushed your legs up and started again, reattaching himself to his little bundle of nerves, sucking and licking in all the right places as you rode out your high.

After you cummed all over Chan’s face you were completely out of it, unable to move from how hard your orgasm hit you. All you could feel was Chan’s soft kisses around your groin and occasionally the warm feeling of a wet washcloth. Water slowly turning cold as he gently washed away all the Whipped Cream that may have been left on your fragile and sensitive skin.

Chan flopped down beside you pussy drunk and almost completely incoherent, staring off into space.

A small “cold Channie” was all you could mutter out, still high on your orgasm and tired from being up so late.

“Ok” he huffed while pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist, wetness from your oozing cunt now all over his bare stomach. Noticing he didn’t mind you snuggled closer to him, breathing in the musky smell of his faded cologne.

You let yourself be put in a trance by Chan’s small touches, flicking your hair back out of his face, rubbing small circles on your back with his soft fingertips, and the small gruff groans that he would make when you tried to move in closer, if that were physically possible.

The small up and down movements from Chan breathing and the moonlight coming from your open window soon sent you to sleep. You couldn’t tell if Chan was actually asleep or not, his eyes were shut but usually it takes him a couple agonizing hours of staring at the wall before he’s sleeping.

You felt safe like this with Chan so you didn’t let yourself worry too much. Could that have been selfish………. probably yes, but you just enjoyed his slow breaths as he rocked you soundly to sleep.

[onepiece-writting-forest]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11 - ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ

Summary: It had been weeks since you had talked to Law, feeling drained from the past events. You needed time to figure the relationship out, which caused you to run away from talking completely and be confronted with a storm, none of you were ready to face.

tags: Law x Reader, Modern AU, angst, a lot of tears baby, confessions,

a/n.: I wanted to write about Law expressing more intense emotions, hope all of you enjoy this cuz I rewrote this so many time ;; (i fkn cried writing this omfg send help;;)

>>[ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴᴅᴇx]<<

The last two weeks had passed in a haze. You couldn’t quite put words to it. Somewhere between numbness and exhaustion. Since that incident at the ceremony, you kept your distance towards Law, hoping time might help you make sense of things.

Slowly however, you started to question whether this thing with him was worth pursuing. You knew being with Law wouldn’t be easy. You were ready to face any storm he was battling. But the way Law kept you at arm’s length—never letting you in, yet exposing you to his world without a warning—cut deeper than you’d expected. The idea of ending things twisted painfully in your chest; you didn’t want to let him go. But maybe it was for the best… or maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t.

“Miss Y/N!”

The sharp voice jolted you back to reality and ripped you out of your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see the clinical professor staring you down through her thin glasses, an impatient expression on her face. You felt the eyes of your classmates on you as well, and even the patient in the hospital bed, a faint trace of amusement in his gaze. Your stomach twisted with embarrassment as heat crept up your neck.

“I asked you a question,” the professor said, her tone laced with disapproval. “If you’re serious about becoming a doctor, you don’t have the luxury of drifting off in your head.”

The comment stung, and you forced yourself to hold her stern gaze, giving a small nod of acknowledgment.

“Apologies, Professor,” you replied, quickly gathering your focus. “For a Pseudomonas infection, kanamycin.”

The professor’s expression softened slightly as she nodded, and a flicker of approval crossed her face. You’d gotten it right—barely.

Clinic hours were proving to be tougher than you’d expected. Instead of simply memorizing facts, you were constantly moving from one department to another, shadowing doctors, working alongside nurses, and having to think on your feet with real patients in front of you. Every case was a test of your knowledge and intuition, and every question was a reminder that this wasn’t just theory—it was real.

And there was clearly no space to be distracted by personal matters.

With a quiet sigh, you finished up your tasks and left the patient’s room together. The professor gave you a few last-minute reminders, her voice fading into the background as you fought off the wave of fatigue. All you could think about was going home, collapsing onto the couch, grabbing something to eat, and letting your mind go blissfully blank.

As you made your way back to the lockers to hang up your white coat and grab your belongings, a flash of movement caught your eye.

You paused, squinting down the hall, and felt your stomach twist. Just for a second, you thought you saw him. Law.

He passed by with a group of students, their chatter filling the hallway as he trailed a few steps behind. You couldn’t see his face, but his posture told the story—you could tell he was drained. You’d come to know him well enough to notice the subtle signs.

You felt a pang of concern. A part of you wanted to walk over, to stop him, maybe even say something. But then the memories from the ceremony flooded back, bringing with them a surge of tension, of unresolved words and feelings. You hesitated, torn between the impulse to reach out and the instinct to keep your distance.

In the end, you turned away, your heart heavy as you continued down the hallway. The hospital doors closed behind you, a finality that sank in as you stepped into the cool evening.

The walk home was uneventful, the same routine of passing streetlights and faded storefronts. By the time you reached your apartment, you felt like you’d run on autopilot the whole way. You kicked off your shoes, let your bag slide off onto the floor, and grabbed your phone to order takeout. Cooking was out of the question tonight.

The moment you hit the order button, a thought flashed through your mind: there was a chance Law could be the one delivering it. You were pretty sure he still worked that job. For a brief, dizzying second, your heart skipped, a mix of nerves and anticipation stirring in your chest. But you quickly suffocated the feeling, refusing to let your thoughts linger on him. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just an order—nothing more.

“Ah, fuck it,” you muttered, flopping onto the couch with a heavy sigh. You weren’t about to change your plans just because of the awkward, unresolved tension hanging between you two. You knew a conversation was inevitable, but for now, avoiding it seemed easier.

A few quiet minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last, until the doorbell rang, making you jump. You cursed under your breath—maybe you weren’t as good at pretending as you’d thought. The thought that Law might stand in front of your door made you freeze at the spot. The seconds dragged as you sat there, heart pounding, almost daring yourself to ignore it. But the bell rang again, sharper this time, each chime pulling you closer to the reality you were trying to ignore.

You took a deep breath, got up, and crossed the room, your pulse hammering louder with every step. What would you say if he was there? Would he say something, or ignore you completely? Each footfall seemed to echo the questions swirling in your mind, but you shoved them down, focusing on the task at hand. With one last inhale, you gripped the handle and pulled the door open.

...it wasn’t him.

A strange mix of relief and disappointment washed over you as you started at the stranger, hitting harder than you’d expected. You let out the breath you’d been holding, managing a polite smile.

The delivery person gave you a confused look, irritated by how you had just swung open the door and seemed relieved.

Weird chick, he thought, yet stretched out the warm paper bag of food towards you and waited for you to pay.

You took the bag and handed over the money with your usual tip before closing the door. For a moment, you simply stood there, as your heart was slowly settling back to it's calm rhythm. Did you actually want him to show up? You’d been so anxious about it, and yet… here you were, feeling let down that some random guy brought you your food.

Why hadn’t you reached out to him, did you want things to end like this? Law had tried more than once, always patient, until you’d finally told him you needed some time. And, true to his word, he’d respected that boundary, hadn’t pushed or chased after you, as if he understood you better than you understood yourself.

Setting the food on the coffee table, you absentmindedly grabbed your phone and opened your chat with him. The last message was from Law, two weeks ago. Just a single word: "Ok."

Nothing more.

You bit your lip, staring at the empty message box, fingers hovering over the keys. Before you could think about it, your fingers moved on their own.

You typed a simple “Hey,” then deleted it. Typed a different message, something longer, only to erase that too. You could practically feel the weight of the unsent messages pressing down on you, the silence between you two growing louder.

Avoiding him had only made reaching out harder. Now here you were, caught in a web of your own hesitations, unable to even send a god damn text. The thought of finally talking it all through tightened its grip on you, a knot of anxiety you couldn’t shake. You stared at the empty message box, frustrated with yourself, wondering when—if—you’d ever find the words.

“Fucking hell…” you muttered, letting your head drop, shoulders sagging under the weight of this shitshow. You were on the verge of losing him, and that thought scared you more than you’d allowed yourself to admit. You didn’t want things to end, not like this. But you needed answers—an explanation that only Law could give you. And you’d never get it if you kept silent.

A flicker of courage rose within you, shaky but determined.

You typed out a simple, “Can we talk?” and hit send before anxiety could tighten its grip on you again. The message was out there, hanging in the ether between you, irreversible.

Staring at the screen, your heart pounded in your chest, each beat growing louder, more urgent, as you waited. You couldn’t stop your leg from bouncing, a nervous twitch you couldn’t shake. Your eyes stayed glued to the phone, biting your nails, praying he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

A minute passed. Then another. Five minutes.

This was torture.

Frustrated, you tossed your phone aside, hoping the noise of the TV would drown out the growing anxiety. But it didn’t. Your appetite had vanished, and the food sat untouched on the coffee table as you mindlessly flicked through streaming services. Every few minutes, you glanced at your phone, your stomach sinking each time the screen remained dark.

An hour passed, then another. It was getting late, and the hope that he’d respond had dimmed. You were just about to turn off the TV and drag yourself to bed when your phone finally lit up.

"When?"

The message startled you so much that you almost crashed against your coffee table as you reached for your phone. Heart pounding, you unlocked it, fingers hovering as you processed his reply. Before you could reply, the typing bubbles appeared, and you held your breath, leg bouncing in anticipation.

"I have time if it’s not too late."

“Now?”

A pause. Then, simply: "Yea."

You felt like your heart was going to jump out of your chest as you stared at his response. This was it. The nerves churned in your stomach, but you felt a small spark of relief—he was willing to talk. You didn’t know where this would go or if it would make things any clearer, but at least you wouldn’t be sitting in silence anymore.

“I'm home. Come over.”

Law arrived quickly. You opened the door, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt heavy, thick with all the words that lingered but hadn’t yet found their way out. His eyes met yours, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you before he looked down.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“...hi."

He slipped off his shoes with a familiar ease but without his usual energy, and you gestured toward the couch. He nodded, moving past you, the faint sound of his footsteps almost disappearing into the silence. You followed, sitting down beside him, both of you careful, leaving a strange, deliberate space between you on the cushions.

Now that he was here, you saw him more clearly. Law looked… rough. Dark circles sat under his eyes, his hair was disheveled, and a stubble cast a shadow over his jaw. His eyes were dull, as if they couldn’t bear the weight of whatever he was holding inside. His shoulders slumped, the tension in his frame draining him.

A tense silence stretched between you, filling the room with a charged stillness. Law’s gaze was fixed on his lap, his fingers tracing slow, restless circles on the back of his hand. At first glance, he looked calm, almost still, but a closer look revealed the tension woven into his every movement.

Finally, he drew in a shaky breath, the silence cracking as he let out a heavy sigh. He forced himself to look up, his eyes meeting yours.

“I’m sorry…” His voice was low, almost hoarse. “For what happened. For all of it.”

You stayed silent, arms wrapped around yourself as you pulled your legs close. The memory of that day crept back, clear and sharp—the way he’d exposed you to his family’s turmoil without any warning, leaving you to navigate a situation you hadn’t been prepared for. As much as it pained you to see him like this, you still needed answers.

“I’m sorry about…” Law continued, his voice faltering. “...about leaving you alone in that situation.”

You tilted your head slightly, absorbing his words. It wasn’t quite what you’d hoped for. Law, who seemed to understand others so well, still struggled so much with his own emotions. You’d expected him to say more—to address the actual issue.

“...That’s it?” you asked, voice soft but pointed.

Laws eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked almost hurt, like he hadn’t realized how his apology might come up short. He blinked, seemingly searching for what else he could tell you, but for once, he was at a loss. He had two full weeks to think what to say, and the only thing he came up with was a cheap sorry.

“I know what I did was wrong. Just… give me some time to work on it. Please.” His voice softened, almost pleading, his gaze searching yours for a sign of forgiveness.

More time? You bit your lip, hesitating, and the silence seemed to weigh on him, making him sink even deeper into himself. Everything depended on what he had to say, and the start of this conversation wasn't convincing you yet.

“I’ve been patient with you, Law. But … I’m not sure. I don’t even know what we are.” You gave him a sad, brittle smile that faded almost as soon as it formed.

He leaned forward, desperation flickering in his eyes. “You know I care about you,” he said, his voice thick, as if willing you to understand. But his words felt hollow in the face of everything that had happened. This wasn't what you wanted to hear. It was the same answer you had gotten at the ceremony.

“Do I?” Your voice starting to quiver as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. The frustration of him being so emotionally dense was finally catching up to you. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it. You left me to fend for myself, in a situation you knew I wasn’t ready for.” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t look away, holding his gaze steady with a simmering mix of pain and defiance.

Fuck.

He was making it worse. Law closed his eyes and let his hand run over his face as if the weight of his own mistakes pressed down on him. Why couldn't he get this right? He wanted to fix this, truly, but he couldn't find the right words to convince you. “I know,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “I know I messed up, alright? But it’s not easy for me.”

"Easy for you?" Your voice trembled as you took a shaky breath, forcing the words out even as anger and hurt fought to spill over. You couldn't believe what you just heard. Was he serious?

"You didn't tell me how fucking crazy your ex was, so crazy that she'd put me into danger just to make sure I was out of the picture. Or that your parents didn’t even know I existed, that they’d look down on me and my friends. And then there’s...,” you said, voice wavering. “There's the way your family looks at Yuki, like she’s everything I’m not. You threw me into all of this without a warning, without even a way to defend myself!"

Law’s expression crumpled, torn between guilt and helplessness as he slightly flinched at every point you made. Valid ones, he had to admit. He looked away, his fists clenching so tightly his knuckles went white. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly wrestling with himself before muttering, “I never wanted it to happen this way.”

“If you actually cared about me, you could have just told me!” You threw your hands up, unable to hide the frustration building inside you, the desperate feeling that no matter what you said, he was refusing to hear you. “If you would have told me I could have prepared myself! I wouldn’t have followed Yuki blindly, I wouldn’t be so fucking hurt at what your parents said! Non of their behavior is your fault, but you made it worse by hiding this from me!”

“Okay, what if I fucking tell you, huh?” Law’s voice rose, the edge sharp, almost dangerous. His eyes flashed, but you didn’t look away, holding your ground. “Tell you how fucked up this whole situation is?” He let out a bitter laugh, almost scoffing at the thought. “You think I’m going to drag you into this shit? This is my burden. I carry it. Not. You.”

His words hung in the air, a raw, jagged tension between you two. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, as if he was trying to push you away—to protect you, or maybe to protect himself.

As much as his words made sense to him, you could see right through them. You knew the damage he was causing by holding onto this alone, and you aimed your response straight at the heart of it.

A scoff escaped you as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “You didn’t drag me in, you threw me into the fire for fucks sake! Multiple times! You are hurting others by trying to handle it alone, can’t you see?“

Your words seemed to knock the wind out of him. His whole posture shifted—his shoulders sagged, his jaw unclenched, and the fire in his gaze softened as he looked at you, stunned, as if he’d never considered this before.

He was hurting you. He’d done this to you.

You could see it—how torn he was. He didn’t want to hurt you, but something deep inside kept him from letting you in. His eyes flickered around the room, as if he could find the answer somewhere in the empty spaces. But there was no escape. He was trapped, caught between the fear of losing you and the fear of letting you get too close.

Swallowing hard, you pushed on. “Why?” you asked, desperate, the question trembling as it escaped. “Why is it so impossible for you to let me in?”

Law stayed silent, but you could see him tense up, his composure unraveling with each word you spoke. His leg bounced restlessly, and his brows knitted together in frustration. It was as if every sentence you spoke struck a nerve, pressing him closer to a breaking point he clearly wasn’t ready for. But you didn’t give in.

“Seriously?” You let out a bitter laugh, a shaky, painful sound as tears streamed over your face. “You’ve had two weeks to think about this, and you still can't tell me?“

He exhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at you, as if his mind was already miles away, trying to escape the conversation. His fingers dug into his knee, and his jaw clenched, but you didn’t waver.

„Why even try to fix something if you can't give me an answer! Why are you even here, Law?”

“Because I fucking love you, okay!”

It ripped out of him like it hurt to say, as if every syllable was dredged up from some dark place he’d kept locked away. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and the walls he’d held up for so long were suddenly, violently crumbling.

You froze, his confession hitting you with the force of a tidal wave. For a moment, you were lost. Completely speechless.

He ran a shaking hand through his hair, pulling at it, as he struggled to contain the overwhelming emotions. His voice, now quieter but still shaking with intensity, softened, almost pleading.

"I love you...," he repeated, barely a whisper now, but the words were filled with so much pain it felt like they could break you. "And I can’t… I can’t let you drown in this with me. I can’t watch you suffer with me."

Law took in a shaky breath, you could see tears forming in his eyes, before he hid his face in his palms.

"I don't want you to see me like this-” He broke off, his voice thick with self-loathing, muffled as he whispered, “I didn’t want to drag you down with me. I can barley handle it, how are you supposed to?”

He was unraveling, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Every word seemed to crack something deeper within him, and he looked up, desperation spilling over.

The look he gave you was everything—so broken and vulnerable, that you knew, it would be burned into your memory forever. You saw it then, in his glassy eyes, the battle he was fighting, the fear he couldn’t outrun, the love he didn’t know how to handle nor believed he deserved.

“I want to protect you not hurt you, I-” He shook his head, not able to speak as choked sobs left his throat.

You moved closer, hesitantly reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. Law stiffened, the tension practically vibrating from him, his shoulders hunched, fists still clenched. But he didn’t pull away.

“Law,” you said softly, feeling your own tears slipping down your cheeks. “This isn’t handling it. This is letting it destroy you.”

He looked at you, eyes wide and filled with an almost childlike vulnerability. There was no resistance left, no armor, only the shattered young man he was.

“Let me help you carry it. I can’t stand by and watch you tear yourself apart, just because you think you have to go through it alone.”

He closed his eyes, tears still slipping down his cheek as he let out a broken, shuddering sob. Your words hit deep, right where it hurt the most. He hid his face in his palms again as shame washed over him. He never wanted you to see him like this. But Law couldn't control it any longer. It was too much.

You pulled him into your arms, holding him close as if anchoring him to solid ground.

“Hey… I’m here,” you whispered softly, one hand stroking gently through his hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on his back. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not anymore.”

Seeing him like this, so raw and vulnerable, hurt to witness—but it also felt like a bittersweet gift, a piece of him he’d never shown anyone else.

You held him close for what felt like forever, letting him pour out everything he’d kept buried, everything he’d held back for so long. His broken sobs, the way his breathing came in ragged gasps, and the warmth of his tears soaking into your shoulder—all of it shattered your heart. Every sound and shudder cut deeper, each one a reminder of the weight he’d been carrying alone.

But you knew you had to hold steady, to be his anchor. Right now, he needed your strength. So you tightened your grip, pressing a gentle hand against his back, letting him know without words that you were here, that you weren’t going anywhere.

As Law’s breathing finally steadied after a whil. You loosened your hold on him and slowly pulled away, giving him some space. He rubbed his eyes as he glanced down, a flicker of shame shadowing his gaze. His vulnerability lay bare, and you could tell how uncomfortable it made him, exposing himself like this.

But to you, it was anything but uncomfortable. You reached up and gently cupped his face, your thumbs brushing softly over the rough skin of his cheeks, grounding him. You gave him a small, reassuring smile, letting him see the love in your eyes—the acceptance, the gratitude that he’d let you into this part of him.

“Hey…” you whispered, your voice gentle as you held his gaze, unflinching. “I love you too.”

He looked back at you, and slowly, a weak but genuine smile broke through his exhaustion. He gave a small nod, leaning into the warmth of your touch, his shoulders finally relaxed. And as he let himself fall into the moment, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a kiss so soft and tender, it made your heart ache. It was a promise, an unspoken vow to stand by him through whatever storm lay ahead.

“I won't do this again...I promise.” Law’s voice was tentative, a hint of vulnerability still lacing his words. He knew he owed you more—a real explanation of the tangled mess of his past relationships and complicated family. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but he was determined to get everything out this time, to rip off the bandages before another wound formed. He couldn’t risk putting you in another situation where his silence hurt you.

You nodded slowly. The weight of the conversation hung between you, leaving both of you visibly drained—but Law looked even worse. His eyes were bloodshot from the tears he’d shed, and he was still letting out soft, stifled breaths. He seemed calmer now, the tension in his shoulders released, but he was unmistakably exhausted.

For a while, you both just sat there in silence, staring at the blank TV screen.

“Wanna go to bed?” you asked quietly, your voice soft and reassuring. Law’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, something like relief washed over his face.

He couldn’t believe he’d almost lost you because he’d been too closed off, too guarded. His head was still a mess of thoughts, spiraling in countless directions, but he was too worn out to follow any of them. He just nodded and got up with you.

He followed you down the hall, each step heavy and slow, and the confidence he usually carried seemed to be missing. You knew that tonight’s talk hadn’t solved everything—far from it—but it was enough for now.

When you reached the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed as you rummaged through your closet. You found a pair of his spare clothes and tossed them over to him.

Law caught them, looking almost… surprised.

“What?” you asked, a little confused by his expression.

He shrugged, looking down at the clothes in his hands. “Just… kinda thought it was over between us. Figured you’d thrown my stuff out by now.”

You let out a sigh, sitting down beside him. “Couldn’t bring myself to do it,” you admitted. You weren’t holding a grudge against him; you were just hurt. Seeing his things around the apartment while there was so much tension between you had been painful, but even then, you hadn’t wanted to let go completely.

Law twisted the fabric between his fingers, seemingly a bit lost in thoughts as you watched him. His shoulders rose and sank as he let out a sigh.

“Guess I’m just… used to different shit,” he muttered with a short, bitter laugh.

You scooted closer to him, your hand lightly touching his shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“Wasn’t rare for me to have to grab my stuff off the street after a fight… with her.” He kept his eyes fixed on the clothes in his hands, as though they brought back memories. He wasn't sure if mentioning his Ex was the right thing to do, yet after the conversation he was so drained it just slipped out of his system.

You blinked in surprise. You’d heard bits and pieces about his ex—never anything good—but you’d never understood why he’d stayed with her or endured the emotional punishment she put him through. Law was sharp; he could read people better than anyone. So why had he missed it with her?

“Why?” you asked softly, not accusingly, just… curious. “Why did you stay with her?”

Law’s gaze drifted, his shoulders slumping slightly. Though he wasn’t one to open up nor understand his own feelings too well, he seemed to have thought about this one a lot, maybe even rehearsed the answer to himself. “I met her when someone in my family got sick,” he murmured, a distant look in his eyes. “Guess it was… desperate times.”

You swallowed and didn’t press further. Instead, you watched as he stood up and pulled his hoodie over his head, folding it with that meticulous care he always had. Then, to your surprise, he went on, as if talking helped ease the ache a little.

“It was my sister,” he said, his voice softer now. “There was no cure. And I’d just started uni, miles away from home. I met her around that time. She was…” he paused, choosing his words carefully. “She was a distraction. Gave me comfort when I was too far from my own family. But things… fell apart after my sister passed.”

You felt the weight of his words settle in, understanding now just how much he’d been carrying. The realization hit you hard, and you understood what he meant with not wanting you to drag you down with him.

This was heavy, and you felt it.

“Law…” you whispered, voice choked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

He nodded and sat back down beside you, running a tired hand through his hair. You deserved to know, especially after what happened moments ago. Even though, exposing himself like this, twisted his gut.

Silence between you settled. Law couldn’t help feeling a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to leave you speechless. He wanted to tell you about his sister one day, but not like this. Seeing you at a loss for words was exactly what he feared.

Fuck, why did I tell her this out of nowhere?

His teeth grazed the inside of his cheek as doubt crept in. He was starting to feel uneasy about opening up. He could see the empathy in your eyes, the way you seemed to feel even a small piece of his pain—he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to pull you down with him or make you feel sorry for him.

But then, you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, pulling him back from that spiral of doubt. “You should tell me more about your sister sometime." Your touch, light and reassuring, calmed him, and your smile—warm and unwavering—let him know that you could handle this. You weren’t going to pity him or wallow in his grief; you were here to help him bear it, to remind him that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

It was like you were telling him that his memories could stay, just as they were—the good ones to cherish and the bad ones to heal from, but not to hide.

A soft, almost shy smile crept onto his face, the edges of his mouth lifting in a way that was both loving and grateful.

taglist: @mars-mizuko , @tadomikiku , @hopelesslover06 , @loraleiii @mwhahahalasagna , @ttalgi , @metonimia-de-bellota , @parkquimin , @ephemeress , @not-a-glad-gladiator , @littleleelee , @chillerkiller

(Let me know in the comments and I’ll add you)

[wisteria-lodge]

do you think lucius only realize he don't want to be a death eater after voldemort was defeated in the 1st war or even during it?

speaking of what are your thoughts/hc on why narcissa didn't take the dark mark despite her sister and her husband doing it? tbh i always wondered how she could've avoided it? i mean she was part of it right, she was in the meetings too

I always thought it made sense that Draco was a difficult pregnancy.

I say that because Lucius and Narcissa seem like the sort of couple who would have loved more children. Narcissa was close with her sisters before things fell apart, and Lucius was an only child... but he's so social I think that must have been lonely for him. I think he would have loved it if Draco had a younger brother or sister. And the only barrier they'd be dealing with there would be a medical one, so.

(also, I love whenever the the Malfoys and the Weasleys are foils, and the idea of Draco and Ron being born at pretty much the same time - but Ron is one of many, a little neglected, mom is a little disappointed he's not a girl etc. while DRACO is so wanted and so special. That's good stuff.)

I also think that if the Malfoys were dealing with fertility issues, Narcissa suffering, maybe even having a miscarriage - that would have made early-twenties Lucius grow up REAL fast. Because yeah, I do think that when Draco was born - about a year before Voldemort's downfall - Lucius' priorities shifted completely, and he started looking for a way out.

And I say that because Lucius rode the wave of the first war really well, coming out with his money and prestige so intact, which would have taken some planning. Lucius is also one of very few Death Eaters who actually got off using the 'imperius curse' defense. (I think the only other one is Avery.) I like the idea that he did actually plan that. Like - okay. You could have someone you trust (Narcissa, maybe Severus) put the imperius curse on you for a couple months, and that way when you're asked "Were you directed to follow Voldemort's orders under the imperius curse," you can say yes, even if you're under Veritaserum.

(Nott senior also seems to have also come out of the first war basically unscathed, but he also seems much more cautious than Lucius. I'll bet he was very good at making sure that there was never much actual evidence against him. Crabbe and Goyle senior also seem to be doing fine, and I tend to think it's because Lucius got them out (possibly because their wives were close with Narcissa? All three women would have been pregnant at the same time.) Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle are *quite* committed to keeping Draco Malfoy in one piece. I love Draco, but he does spend several books being a little shit with no ability to defend himself, so they do have their work cut out for them.

I also think a Narcissa who spent the first Voldemort war dealing with pregnancy-related health issues could explain why she doesn't have a Dark Mark, when honestly she really should. Her husband, sister, brother-in-law, underage cousin... they're all getting them. So why was Narcissa skipped (but still allowed to remain in good standing?) I think she she stayed out of the spotlight, using her delicate health as an excuse. And then the second war comes around and she... fades to the background again, makes herself useful, and hopes that the issue never comes up. I don't think she'd say no to a confundus, or even a memory charm if she were really put on the spot.

(but the real, Doylist reason Narcissa doesn't have a Dark Mark is because JKR has a very strong aversion to writing villainous mothers. See: the very odd framing of Merope Gaunt.)

[eand47]

Chapter IV | Sweater Weather

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala, Marco, Robin (more to be add)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: explicit language, use of nicotine/cigarettes, use of drugs, postpartum depression, mentions of death, family trauma, conflicted feelings

Word Count: 15,2K

<- previous chapter

NOTE: I’ve planned to write this chapter even longer, but then I decided that it would be pointless as most of the things would be repetitive. Here are the descriptions of some filmmaking terms, so when you are reading you know what the characters are talking about: D.O.P - Director of Photography/Cinematographer, the person who works closely with the director, and the person who determines the framing of the shots and capturing the scenes AC - First Assistant Camera, the person who is responsible for the focus of the camera and the lenses Call Sheet - The daily schedule, filled with all the information needed for the actors and the crew about when, where and what will be filmed Storyboard - Visual representation of a film sequence and breaking down the actions into individual panels, sketching out how the video will unfold shot by shot I hope that all of this Filmmaking things are not boring you, but I feel like if I don’t write them down the story will feel super fake and the logic will be missing and it won’t be clear why certain things are described a certain way, if you get what I mean 😅 Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the previous ones, or even more hehe… also … there are some major foreshadowing in this chapter 👀 hihi enjoy <333

It has been two weeks since the Halloween party, which I try not to think about much. Nami was quite upset with me the first few days after it, as I left without saying goodbye and because I wasn’t answering the next day. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about the party with anyone. When we met on Monday in lectures, I lied to her and Usopp that I felt super sick and because of it I left without saying anything not wanting to ruin their funny, and they bought it. Everything was fine, until I saw Ace once at the coffee shop, luckily for me he had his back facing me, so he didn’t see me. I recognised him by his orange beanie, but I quickly left as I wasn’t ready to see him again. Still, almost everyday I caught myself thinking about him at least once, going back to the moment we “shared” at the party. He had his ways to get under someone’s skin, I gave him that. We have barely spoken or knew each other, yet I couldn’t shake him off my thoughts. The way his actions and words were so contradicting. I still remember the burning feeling he left inside of me by just barely touching my skin, I can only imagine what it could have been if he had kissed me. Or maybe I totally misread the situation, but I would never know.  

The only thing keeping me from thinking of him was the fact that I was extremely busy with the upcoming short-cut projects at university. I was stuck writing and rewriting my script, not being satisfied with it fully, and we must submit our final draft by the end of this week. Because of that we didn’t have any classes this week and I haven’t gotten out at all. Nami and Usopp texted me a few times to join them outside for a drink, even Luffy texted me to hang out, but I turned them all down, as my main focus right now was submitting my final draft.

Today I had consultation with one of my teachers regarding my script, as I wanted a second opinion if the story and the actions were clear. My meeting was scheduled at 2PM, so I got plenty of time as I woke up quite early, not being able to sleep in the past few days. I decided to get dress and grab a coffee from my favorite coffee shop. I put a pair of dark baggy jeans and just a basic grey cotton t-shirt, not feeling like dressing myself up today, as stress was taking over me. I didn’t even bother to put makeup or anything, I just put my jacket on, grabbed my bag over the shoulder and headphones and left. As I was on my way to the coffee shop when the next song that started to play from my headphones was Ace’s song. I had saved them all on my playlist; aside from Ace’s confusing behaviour at least his band’s music was good.

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours You in those little high-waisted shorts, oh

The song started to bring memories from the party, especially when the choirs hit.

'Cause it's too cold for you here and now So let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater

I wasn’t in the mood for this, so I quickly changed the song.

“Fucking Ace.” I cursed under my breath.

The sky was cloudy today, and I didn’t check the weather app, and it seemed like it was going to rain. Soon drops of rain started to pour from the sky and I started to run towards the cafe. My jacket didn’t have a hood, and my hair got wet and messy by the time I reached it. It was quite busy when I got inside, and my usual seat was taken so I went to wait on the queue before I sit somewhere.

“One black coffee, please” I ordered to the barista. My card declined as I was trying to pay. “Oh, I’m so sorry, give me a second.” I apologised to them, as I probably ran out of money, and I had to transfer from my savings.

“I will pay for her and make them two.” This smooth, low voice that I would recognise from miles away said behind me.

“Ace” I turned around immediately facing him. He just winked at me, paying for the coffees. The barista handed us the coffees and we thanked him.

“Thanks for the coffee.” I glanced at Ace and went to find a place to sit, leaving him by himself. I found a small table at the back of the shop. I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag, trying to calm myself down. Of course, off all possible days I met him today. As the day couldn’t get any more stressful for me it had to serve me Ace on top.

“Mind if I take a seat?” Ace stood next to me, waiting for my respond. He had this little smug smirk on his face, and that slightly irritated me.

“Sure.” I gave him a short response. He sat down across from me, leaning his back on the wall, resting one of his arms on the back of the chair and the other on the table, his whole body facing away from me. I took a quick look at him. He was wearing baggy jeans with an oversized grey hoodie, which was wet from the rain, and his red bead neckless hanged around his neck as always.

“We are matching today.” He pointed out, tilting his head towards me. I looked down at myself and realised that we were wearing matching outfits. I gave him a simple nod, looking away from him back to my computer. “You look tired.” He said taking look at my tired face.

“I am tired.” I sighed.

“Is everything okay? Are you okay, doll?” His voice had a hint of concern.

“Don’t call me that.” I snapped at him.

“Why are you so moody? Someone stepped on your tail this morning... doll?” He mocked me. I shoot him a glance from behind my laptop not in the mood for jokes. “You look cute when mad, you know.” He chuckled at me, the smirk not leaving his face.

“What do you want Ace?” I raised my eyebrow at him.

“Nothing, just to sit and chitchat with a friend.” His answer pissed me off, like he forgot what happened two weeks ago.

“Ace...” I took a breath calming myself down before continuing. “I don’t want to be rude, but I’m under a lot of stress right now, so if you want to sit here – sit but I’m not in the mood for a chitchat.” I didn’t want to be mean at him, but also, I couldn’t hide my irritation right now. He just nodded and sipped from his coffee. We were sitting in silence – me on my laptop, writing and rewriting whatever felt right or not, and Ace was just scrolling on his phone. I took a sip from my coffee and couldn’t help but wrinkled my nose and furrowed my eyebrows as always. I heard Ace chuckle under his breath.

“What?” I asked Ace.

“Nothing.” He shrugged, his smug smile not leaving his lips.

“You are laughing at me, aren’t you?” I nagged.

“Please, doll explain this: why drinking coffee if you hate it?” He turned his body to face me, putting both of his forearms on the table, holding his coffee cup.

“Because if I drink something that I like I will get addicted to it and then I will want to drink it all the time – that’s why.” I responded.

“How may coffees you drink a day?” He had this mischievous spark in his eyes.

“Depends on the day, but sometimes two or three.”

“Doll, I think you are already addicted.” I rolled my eyes at his comment.

“Stop calling me ‘doll’, Ace.” What was with this pet name, he hasn’t stopped calling me ‘doll’ since Halloween.

“Why? You don’t like it?” He teased me.

“You call all your friends ‘doll’?” I teased him back.

“No, only you.” His voice was low, almost like a whisper, eyes glued on mine half lidded as always. Instead of a smirk he had this little smile playing on his lips. I broke the eye contact looking back at my laptop, starting to type on the keyboard again.

“What are you writing there?” He leaned on his hand, his voice soft.

“My script for the short-cuts.” My respond short, eyes not leaving the computer as I was re-reading the script, checking for mistakes or if I need to add extra remarks.

“Is that why you are so stressed?” He straitened up his posture, studying my face as he was sipping from his coffee. I simply nodded in response. “What is it about?” He asked and I looked at him hesitating if I should tell him.

“It’s about a man, who fell in love with this woman from the moment he saw her, but so did his best friend.” I chuckled feeling a little embraced telling Ace the plot of my script. “But his best friend hit on her first, so they started to date, and the whole scene is about them announcing their engagement and the man – the main character, gets lost in his thoughts of ‘what if’. ‘What if’ he did a move on her first, and they were the one dating and he knows how he would have treated her better ect.” I was babbling as Ace was just looking at me, taking every word, I said. “And then the ‘what if’ moment gets interrupted by his girlfriend who shakes him off the thoughts asking him what’s wrong and why he doesn’t congratulate them, and he quickly brushes it off and congratulates them only to whisper to his best friend's now fiancé that it should have been him.” I took a deep breath and raised my eyebrows in anticipation for Ace’s opinion on the script.

“Can I read it?” His voice and eyes sparkled with interest, so I turned my laptop and handed it to him. His face was unreadable while he was reading it until he handed me the laptop back.

“Well... what do you think?” I felt my confidence leaving me, as he wasn’t saying anything.

“I think that I don’t know much about scripts, nothing at all actually, but...” He paused for a second. “I can’t wait to see your film, doll. I really liked it.” Ace leaned on the back of the chair; arms crossed around his chest as he smiled at me.

“What? You mean that? You really liked the script?” My eyes widened of surprise hearing his response. “Like, you really, really mean that?”

“Yes, doll I do.” He chuckled. “Have more fait in yourself.” I didn’t know how to respond to this. I've heard this a lot – be more confident, have more fait in yourself, yet the ‘imposter’ syndrome could never leave me.

“Thank you, Ace. This means a lot.” I smiled at him.

“Nothing to thank me about.” He raised his cup of coffee to his lips and before he took a sip he added. “And if it sucked, I was going to tell you.” I playfully rolled my eyes at him.

“I rewrote it like a hundred times. I have a consultation with my teacher at 2PM, because we are submitting them tomorrow, so I hope he likes it, and I don’t need to rewrite again.” I closed my laptop and put it back in my bag. Ace looked at his phone to check the time.

“You still have some time, like almost two hours.” We stayed in silence for a moment, I was avoiding his gaze, as my shyness started to take over me, the memories of the party surfacing on my mind.

“How are your ears, by the way? I forgot to ask you at the party.” The mockery in his voice was so clear.

"My ears?" I didn't understand what he meant my that.

"Yeah, that video with you and Usopp." A big grin spread across his face when he.

“No, no, no don’t remind me.” I got all flushed as I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed of the accident with the microphone and Usopp. Ace laughed at my reaction.

“I love that video, I made Nami sent it to me.”

“What? No! No, no, no!” ‘Nami how could you?’ I was thinking to myself, why would she do that, why would Ace want that video. “Please, Ace delete it.” I begged him. “It’s not even that funny.”

“Yeah, it’s not funny – it’s hilarious.” He snorted, clearly enjoying mocking me like this. I shook my head giving up, my face still covered with the palms of my hand, as I knew that he wouldn’t delete it. “Hey, look at me.” I looked up only to see my shocked face zoomed on his phone screen as a screenshot.

“Ace!” I squealed, reaching with my hand to snatch his phone away to delete the picture but he quickly pulled it away. “Aceee.” I stomped my food like a little kid.

“Easy, doll. Going through someone’s phone is not polite, you know that?” He snapped his index finger hitting me on my forehead, laughing at my reaction, as I pouted.

“You are so mean.” I told him. “What are your plans for the day?” I leaned on my chair, mimicking his posture.

“Go to the studio, play a little with the guys, then talk with our manager about some marketing stuffs and deals – nothing interesting.” Ace shrugged; he didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

We stayed for an hour more – talking and laughing. It was so easy to be myself around him, yet sometimes I caught myself getting a little tensed when he smirked at me or made some teasing comments. I wanted to ask him what exactly happened with him at the party two weeks ago, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment we were having. Even thought we had four years difference I couldn’t really feel it as Ace was still carrying this very boyish energy in him. I got to learn a little bit more about him, and what he likes and dislikes. When it was time for me to head to university he suggested to walk with me to there since he still had some time before him and the guys meet.

The weather outside was still the same but at least it wasn’t raining. We were walking next to each other, almost no distance between our bodies. He was telling me more about his brothers, and things they did as kids.

“So, wait, wait.” I interrupted him. “You are telling me that your aunt Dadan didn’t have any money for your vocal lessons, but the moment Sabo said that he wants to learn how to play drums she immediately signed him up?” I was in disbelief.

“Yea, he is her favourite, as he is you know – blue eyed, blonde, cute.” He mocked her voice as he was describing Sabo. “Then you have Luffy, and last one is me – the black sheep.” He winked with a mischievous smirk.

“Why are you the black sheep?” That piqued my curiosity.

“Our friendship is way too fresh for this conversation, doll.” He bumped me with his elbow on the side, chuckling. I laughed it off, not wanting to push his boundaries.

“Okay one very, very important question before I go.” We were almost to the university when I stopped him before we part our ways. I stood in front of him, with the most serious look on my face, looking straight at his eyes as I pointed my finger at him and spoke. “Which is your all-time favourite movie?”

“Hm...” Ace frowned his eyebrows, thinking for a moment. “I’m not sure, I have to think about it, doll.” He smiled at me.

“I will be waiting for your answer.” I turned around and started to walk towards the school gates.

“Hey, doll.” Ace called after me. “You never gave me your number.”

“Not until you tell me your favourite movie.” I yelled behind my back, waving him goodbye as I entered the gates. My cheeks flaming hot, my heart was bumping fast, and for the rest of the day I don’t think that I would be able to take off the smile from my face. Maybe just being friends wouldn’t hurt, I’m sure I could put my little crush aside and before I know it, we would have this amazing friendship. Some people are better left as friends – and if Ace and I are one of them, so let it be it.

*********

Ace was watching (Y/N) leave and as she disappeared from his sight, he laughed to himself. She was very interesting person. The way she changed her moods so fast, the way her eyes sparked when she talked about things she loved or was excited about, the way when even without saying anything her face betrays her and says it all – she was very fun to hang around. (Y/N) crossed his mind a few times in past two weeks, part of him regrating not taking his chance with her at the party, but then that was for the best. She was a nice girl and a friend of his friends, and he didn’t want to hurt her or give her some empty promises that he couldn’t keep. The least you two could of do was to try being friends, after all better friends than strangers. And she was quite young, Ace remember how he used to behave in his early 20s. The last thing on his mind was to keep someone for a longer than a month, when the world offered him so much; it should be the same with her – after all she was such a catch for the eye. Even today, all tired with sleepy bags under her eyes and messy hair, she was still very cute to look at. Ace wasn’t stupid he did feel the attraction they shared towards one another, but he was doing her a big-time favour by setting their boundaries straight. Although teasing from time to time wouldn’t hurt, she was such a tease herself, which was making it so hard for him.

Ace got to the building where the studio was located. The building was old and had five stores. The studio the guys were renting there was on the second floor. Before going up Ace wanted to light a cigarette or two. He leaned on the staircase and lit up one. ‘Favourite movie, hm...’ he was thinking about an answer he could give you of a movie that he really liked and could say that resonated with him.

“Yo, Ace.” He tilted his head to the side and saw Law walking towards him. They gave each other a quick bump on the shoulders. Ace pulled out his cigarettes from his pocket offering Law one, but he refused.

“What’s up with you? You seem moody.” Ace asked him, as Law seemed not to be in the mood. Law and Ace had been best friends since high school. They met after Ace was kicked out in 9th grade, from the one where him and Sabo were attending together. The first day Ace and Law met, they didn’t really like each other or spoke. It wasn’t until one day when Law was getting beaten up by some 11th graders bullies, and Ace jumped to help him, only for them to end up with detention. Since then, their friendship started. No one else but Law knew off Ace’s darkest secrets, and vice versa; even Sabo and Luffy didn’t know as much about Ace as Law knew. They both could easily read the other like an open book. Which was why Ace could tell something was disturbing Law.

“Nothing.” Law replied, but Ace wasn’t falling for that.

“Come on, bro. If you don’t tell me then who?” Ace took another cigarette lighting it up. He looked at Law again, raising his eyebrows questioningly if he was sure that he didn’t want to smoke one. Law sighed annoyed and took one, lighting it fast and taking long puff from it.

“So?” Ace waited for his respond, but he thought he already knew the reason behind it.

“Robin.” Law glanced at Ace knowing that he got the whole picture already. Ace snorted, shaking his head knowing that he guessed right.

“What did you do this time?” He looked at his friend frustrated face, knowing that it was probably him that messed up something again. Robin and Law were an on and off thing, that only Ace knew about, and it has been two years since this was happening.

“Why do you assume that I did something immediately?” He snapped at Ace, which only confirmed that he did in fact did something that lead to them fighting again. If Law was in a bad mood because of Robin then it meant that he fucked up, if he was going mad, almost insane then Robin did something. That has happened only once and it was when she wanted to end everything with him, and Ace swore that for the tenth years of him and Law being friends, he had never seen Law losing his mind the way he did that night.

“Fine.” Law said after a while. “You remember the chick from the Halloween party? Well, somehow Robin found out that I slept with her, so she is nagging on me now, how for a thousand time I broke our agreement.” He threw the finished cigarette on the ground, stomping it frustrated.

“Why do you even have this agreement in the first place?” Ace got annoyed as this wasn’t the first time this happened; since Robin and Law started seeing each other, they decided that they didn’t want anything serious, but if something was happening between them, they must not sleep with other people.

“I don’t know man, I just don’t want to go through this again.” Law exhaled. “Plus, we haven’t done anything in a month and so, so.. I thought to myself why not, you know.” He shrugged, the sound of regret could be heard in his voice.  

“Did she tell you how she found out?”

“No, no idea. But there was this chick that walked on me at the party, but I was wearing the mask, so I doubt it that it was her. Even thought she looked familiar.” Ace didn’t say anything, he knew that (Y/N) walked on Law, but he decided to keep this information to himself, after all he doubt that she knew Robin.

“What are you planning to do then?” Ace threw his finished cigarette and nodded to Law to get going inside.

“Find a way to fix it.” Law murmured as they were going up the stairs.

The apartment where the studio was, was quite small a one room apartment but very practical. The whole space was turned into one big, isolated sound room. Thanks to Deuce and some of his connections the guys were able to rent it for themselves only for a very nice price. Going in Ace and Law were met with Deuce and Sabo, who were here since the morning. The guys greeted each other and started to chitchat as they were waiting for their manager. Some time passed and he finally came.

“Yo, what’s up Marco?” Sabo was the first one to greet him. Marco was a man in his mid-thirties, blond hair styled in a very interesting mullet style. He had been recently become the guys’ manager, as he had been in the music industry for the past ten years now. It happened after they were performing in some underground night club, and by chance Marco happened to be there that same night. After they were done with their set, he went to speak with them and gave his business card to get in touch with him.

“Same as usual, how are things with you boys?” Marco smiled at them as he pushed his glasses up adjusting them.

“Same as usual here.” Deuce replied, the rest of the boys agreeing.

“I don’t have much time today so I will get straight to business.” Marco clapped with his hands. “We can not afford to postpone this anymore so it’s time for you to finally decide which will be your debut single from the EP and we need to film a music video for it, as soon as possible.”

“Easy answer – ‘Sweater Weather’” Ace said not waiting for the rest of the guys to have a word.

“Are you all on the same page for this?” Marco glanced at the other guys to make sure that they all agreed with Ace’s choice of song.

“I think we all agree, it is our most streamed song.” Deuce said, Law and Sabo agreeing with the choice that Ace made as well.

“Okay, that was faster than I expected.” Marco chuckled. “I was thinking between ‘Sweater Weather’ or ‘Cry Baby’, so I agree with your choice guys. Now for the video, I already have some directors in mind. The first one is Ja-“

“We already have.” Ace interrupted him.

“What do you mean we already have?” Sabo looked at his brother confused, they have never talked about filming a video, let alone them already having the crew for it.

“Yes, Ace; what do you mean by this?” Marco asked, as confused as the rest of the guys.

“I have already spoken with some people, and they are down to film our first video. That’s it. No need to search for director or crew, we already have.”

“And they are?” Marco raised his eyebrow waiting for Ace to give him more clear answer.

“Luffy's friends.” Ace shrugged.

“You must be kidding me?” Sabo quickly snapped at him. Ace just shook his head, looking at his brother questioningly. “Ace, we need professional director and crew, not some kids who barely started to do this.”

“They are not kids, and I’m sure they will do pretty well. Plus, you don’t seem to call Usopp a kid when he is producing music for us, do you?” Ace snapped back at his brother.

“Because he has the talent for it, but he said it himself he is not such a good director.” Sabo tried to reason his brother. “Also have you asked him?”

“No, I haven’t.” Everyone whined annoyed with Ace. “But I will. And also, I didn’t say that Usopp will be the director.” All eyes were again on Ace.

“Who will be then Ace?” Sabo hissed, waiting to hear whatever his brother had come up with.

“(Y/N).” Ace shortly answered.

“Who?” Law and Deuce asked at the same time, the name sounded familiar, but they couldn’t put the face to the name.

“You are kidding me, right? Is she even good? Have you seen any of her work at lease?” At this point Sabo started to have a headache. He knew who his brother was referring to. Sabo also saw the way Ace and this (Y/N) girl behaved around each other at the party, so it better not be what he thought it was.

 “Yea, she is pretty good.” Ace quickly lied. He had never seen any of her work, he was taking a big risk suggesting that, he wasn’t even sure what gotten into him to even suggest it. But something in his gut was telling him that it would work, that it would be worth taking the risk.

“Ace, I swear to Go-“ Sabo got interrupted.

“Guys, guys.” Marco raised his voice. “This is serious, this would be your first video ever, it must be professional, and very well made, not some school project. I don’t care how good these kids are or not, we are hiring you professionals.” The rest of the guys agreed with Marco, but not Ace.

“Listen, I know that this sounds crazy but trust me on this one. Plus, if its turs out bad then we can go for a professional, okay?” Ace tried to fight back.

“Ace this will be waisted time, why don’t you understand this?” Marco took off his glasses massaging his eyes, Ace was the hardest to work with.

“Yeah! Ace this will cost double.” Sabo stood up and looked at Ace, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It won’t, believe me because it will turn out good, I have a good feeling for this.” Ace also stood up getting closer to his brother. “Come on, trust me on this one, when have I ever let you down?”

“How do you guys feel about this?” Sabo turned toward Law and Deuce.

“As long as its turs out good I don’t care who will film it.” Deuce said, as he only cared for the final product.

“How are you sure that they will even agree to do it Ace?” Law asked.

“I have a feeling, okay.” Ace snapped. “Look I will ask them, we meet with them and if our ideas don’t match, we don’t hire them for it, and we go with whoever Marco has in mind.”

 “Okay, this works for me.” Law sighed, not at all in the mood to argue today.

“Ace..” Sabo hissed his finger pointed at his brother. “You- you better be right or else I will beat the shit out of you for this.” He turned around and angrily sat on the couch.

“Um guys, it’s me who has the final word here, remember?” Marco looked at all off them in disbelief.

“Marco, you make sure to speak with the right people to make this viral, we fix the rest.” Ace patted him on the shoulder and left without saying anything more.

“He is unbelievable to work with.” Marco threw his hands in the air looking at the rest of the guys who weren’t paying him much attention as well.

********

“Hey, Usopp. What’s up my man?” Ace said over the phone. It was around 6PM when he got home and decided to speak with Usopp, about the video.

“Chillin’ with Kaya at home, you?”

“Just got home and wanted to speak with you.”

“’bout what?” Usopp asked. Ace was close to all Luffy’s friends, Usopp was even one of them that he could call his own friend.

“How do you feel about you and your friends from uni, filming our first music video?” Ace got straight to the point.

“Ace, we are still learning, plus I’m not the best director.” Usopp was more than surprised by Ace’s proposition.

“I know, I know, but think about it wouldn’t that be a great opportunity for you and your friends?”

“It would definitely be, but again we barely started I don’t know how we would manage to do something as big as a music video for you guys. Plus, it will be your debut video why don’t you go for professionals, you surely ain’t that broke.” Usopp joked.

“It’s not about money.” Ace quickly responded. “I just want you guys to do it.”

“I don’t know Ace. I really don’t think that this is a good idea.” Usopp hesitate.

“You don’t need to be the director, someone else can be.” Ace was quick to add.

“(Y/N) is good, but I doubt that she will be down for it.” That was exactly what Ace needed to hear.

“Do you mind giving me her number, so I can speak with her?”

“Yeah, sure. But good luck, again I don’t think she will agree. But I will send you, her number.” Usopp huffed, knowing that (Y/N) would not agree, but still it wouldn’t hurt if Ace wanted to try. Before they hung up Ace thanked Usopp and waited for him to send the number.

******

My consultation went pretty fast, as my directing teacher was super pleased with my script, he gave me some advice on what I could possibly change to make it easier to film after, but other than this it went well. Before I got home, I stopped by our chill area as I saw some of my classmates. We talked for a bit, exchanging some ideas and jokes here and there. It was nice to know that I wasn’t the only one being so overly stressed for the short-cuts.

I got home and prepared myself something to eat. After it I sat down to make some last changes on the script before I submitted it. I sighed in relief, knowing that I was halfway done with this assignment, and all we have left was to film and then edit it. I was just hoping that the actors I have assigned for my movie would do their roles good.

I laid down on my coach trying to find something interesting to watch. I wasn’t sure what I was in a mood for. While searching for something to watch I could feel that my fatigue started to take over, as my eyes were slowly starting to close. I had fallen asleep when I heard my phone ringing. I looked at the screen and it was unknown number, usually I never pick up if I didn’t know who was calling. I looked at the time and it was almost 8PM. Exactly before whoever was calling hung up, I picked up the phone.

“What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” The voice on the other end said.

“What? I’m sorry who is calling?” I sat on the couch, rubbing my eyes.

“The answer that I couldn’t give you earlier, doll. ‘What’s Eating Gilbert Grape’ – that’s my favourite movie, or at least one I can say that I really liked.”

“Ace? How- How did you get my number?” I was fully awake now; how did he find my number.

“I have my ways.” He chuckled.

“Creep.” I snorted.

“Are you happy with my answer?”

“Surprised. But not a bad choice at all.”

“What are you doing, doll?” I could feel his smirk over the phone.

“Nothing, I had fallen asleep on the couch, you?”

“Oh, sorry for waking you up then.”

“It’s okay. Now how did you get my number?” I was curious to know how or who gave it to him.

“I told you; I have my ways.” His tone was so teasing. “But I’m actually calling for business not for chitchat.” Now that piqued my interest.

“What business?”

“How do you feel about directing a music video?” I was taken aback hearing this.

“Um, I have never done it so, I’m not really sure how I would feel. Why?” I was confused by this sudden question.

“I want you to direct our first music video.” Ace blurted out.

“What?” I shouted not expecting this at all.

“Please, don’t shout in my ears.” Ace laughed at my reaction.

“I’m sorry. But seriously, are you insane? I’m so new to all of this, like the whole filmmaking thing, and music videos are slightly different to shoot than films, so I can’t Ace, I’m sorry I-I can’t take such responsibility.” I quickly said, turning down his offer even thought it would have been such a great opportunity, but he must contact someone professional.

“Come on, doll. I believe in you, I’m sure you will come up with something great.” He chuckled, not giving up.

“Listen, Ace...” I took a deep breath. “I’m so flattered that you believe so much in me, but I’m not that good.”

“Please.”

“Ace.” I sighed.

“Please, doll. We don’t want something over the top, we need super simple video, so we can put out there, plus we will pay you. So, please consider it and give me a call back tomorrow, okay?”

“I don’t think that my mind will change but sure.”

“Thank you, doll. I will be waiting for your final decision.” He said before hung up.

I sighed once again, but this time loudly. Why? Why he wants me to do this? He hasn’t even seen my work, why he trusted me so much to a point where he wants me to direct his band’s first ever video. It’s not that it would be that hard, it’s more the fact that with this video they are establishing themselves officially as a band, and their overall look. The offer really piqued my interest, and my mind started to think about a possible video idea, but I forgot to ask him which song they were planning to film it for. I grabbed my phone and saved his number, before I texted him.

“Which song will be the video for?”

He replied shortly after: “Sweater Weather”

I opened Spotify and went to their profile. It was their most streamed song, so it was logical that they chose it for their debut music video. I played the song and started to create a storyboard in my mind. Ace didn’t give me much information, so I if I agree to do this, I have a lot of questions for him. Do they have a crew already, or I will have to think of someone to help me? Do they have something in mind that they will want us to recreate in the video? When do they want to film it? And so many more questions popped up in my head.

“Oh, Ace....” I sighed to myself.

********

“So, you gave him my number?” I turned to Usopp when we finished with our class for the day.

“Yeah, he called me and asked me if we want to shoot their video, but I turned him down, as I’m not very good with directing, but they he told me that it can always be someone else, and I mentioned you and he wanted to speak with you... so... what are you down for it?” Usopp looked at me, trying to read my face.

“Well, that’s the thing. Part of me wants to, but another one tells me that I lack the skills.”

“You know,” Nami interrupted our conversation. “Dave from year two has done some music videos before, why don’t you guys speak with him, he might help you.” She suggested.

“This is a very good idea, Nami. I didn’t know that.” I hugged her. “But, yeah I’m down only if you guys are?” I looked at them both.

“Oh, no. I have too many things to do because of the short-cuts, and my group sucks guys, so I’m out.” Nami quickly turned me down.

“I can be your D.O.P, but I will need a first assistant camera.” Usopp said.

“We can ask Dave, if he is up for it, he can help us.” I smiled at Usopp, happy that he was down for the job. “Otherwise, it will be just you and I.”

“I’m actually surprised that you are planning to do it.” Usopp was right, I was surprised by myself as well, Nami also agreed with him.

“I know, but I have an idea that I think it will match their band’s vibe very good, and it won’t be hard to film at all so I think it would turn out pretty well, if they like my idea as well.” Nami and Usopp were both aware that I was not the most confident person when it came to how talented and good I was with filmmaking. Even thought both had told me millions of times that I should believe in myself and my skills more, sometimes it was really hard, yet I was always down for a challenge.

“Does any of you have Dave’s insta or something, so I can text him?” I pulled out my phone opening Instagram, to search his name.

“Yeah, here.” Usopp showed me his phone so I can copy Dave’s username. I followed and texted him. It didn’t take him long to respond, saying that we can meet somewhere later and talk about it. We agreed on meeting for a drink around 7PM, so I had quite some time until then.

“Usopp, will you come as well?” I asked him before we say goodbye.

“Nah, I won’t be able to, Kaya and I already have plans.” He hugged me and Nami goodbye. “But keep me updated.” He said before he left.

“What are you doing tonight?” I asked Nami as we were walking towards the metro station.

“Going out with Luffy and Vivi, if you wanna join after you finish your meeting with Dave.”

“I will think about it, as I will have to speak with Ace after it.” I didn’t want to promise anything for later, as I might be too tired to go out. Nami smirked.

“What?” I looked at her suspiciously, as her smirk was quite mischievous.

“Mmm, nothing.” She just glanced at me, her smirk growing.

“You don’t get to tell me, nothing with this smug smile growing on your face.” I nagged her.

“Well... Ace, hu?” Her eyebrows wiggled playfully. “Did you two know each other before? I remember Usopp mentioning something.” She pushed me a little with her elbow.

“Oh no, no, nothing like this.” I brushed it off quick. “We met accidently that’s all, it was even that Friday when they were preforming at my uncle’s bar, so it was pure coincidence.”

“But Sabo told me he saw you going somewhere with him at the party two weeks ago, and then you left without saying anything and you weren’t speaking with us much after that...” She looked at me, trying to study my face if I was lying to her. “Did something happen? You know I will not tell anyone. I’m just concern and Ace... well, Ace is Ace.”  She chuckled.

“No, I swear nothing happened. We just talked for a bit inside and then we went somewhere, and I decided to go home.” I didn’t really lie to her, because all of this did happen, I just didn’t mention any details.  

“Okay, I believe you if you say so.” Nami wasn’t fully convinced but decided to let it go. “But don’t fall for Ace or anything like that.” She added. “He is an amazing person, no doubt about that, but he is a womanizer, so for your own sake don’t cross this lines.” Her warning was valid, and this wasn’t the first time I heard this, but Ace and I already set that boundary anyway, so I didn’t need to hear it again.

“Don’t worry I don’t see him that way.” Now this time I lied, but my little crush on Ace was something Nami didn’t need to know.

********

I started to get ready around 5PM. I decided to wear something casually just a pair of flared dark blue jeans, with a black off shoulder blouse with a belt around the waist. I added some silver earing and quickly fixed my hair and makeup before checking the clock and to see what time it was. It was almost six, so I took my purse, put my black kitten heels and coat on, and left.

It took me around forty-five minutes to reach the place where we agreed to meet. It was a very nice and cozy jazz bar. I’ve never been to this place before, but just from the looks of it, it seemed like a place I wouldn’t mind coming to again. I looked around and I saw Dave sitting on a small table for two. I waved at him as he saw me.

“Hey, Dave thank you so much for meeting me.” I smiled at him as I was sitting down.

“No worries, the pleasure is mine.” He smiled back. “What would you like to drink?” Dave was super nice, I have spoken with him only twice so far and only in university, so I felt a little awkward right now.

“Just a glass of sparkling wine would be perfect.” I told him and he went to order for us. Dave was also a nice-looking guy. His hair was dark brown and full of curls, his jawline was sharp, and his beard was nicely shaved in a goatee style. He was dressed in a relaxed fit short sleaved black shirt and some linen white pants; he also had an earing on his left ear. Dave came back and handed me my drink with a smile. He sat back on his chair and we both shared an awkward laughed.  

“So, music video, hu?” He said, flashing me another of his charming smiles.

“Yes, I got the offer last night, and I still haven’t accepted it, as it’s the band’s debut video, so I’m quite unsure if I should take the risk, you know?” I took a sip of the wine, glancing away from Dave.

“I know the feeling, don’t worry about it.” He reassured me. “Which band are you talking about?”

“‘The Neighbourhood’, you know them?” Dave shook his head. “Oh, you need to check them out, they are pretty good and growing popularity quite fast.”

“I will take your word on that.” He chuckled. “So how did they end up asking you to direct their video?”

“I’m a friend with the vocalist, and he really wants me to do it, as quote-unquote ‘he believes that I would do an amazing job’.” I waved my hands around in a question marks.

“That’s good, if you ask me - take the opportunity. Plus, I have heard that you are one of the tops of your class, and that you have quite a different vision from the rest so go for it.” Dave encouraged me. 

“Yeah, ‘different’.” I shook my hands to my head, but Dave just looked at me confused, not getting the reference so I just brushed it off. “Um, I was wondering... would you like to help us? It will be just Usopp and I, and we will really appreciate it if we have a AC.” I bit my lip, looking at Dave from under my lashes.

“Well, depends on when you guys are filming, but sure.” He nodded, a coy smile forming on his lips. “But wouldn’t it be better if I’m your D.O.P as I have more experience with the camera than Usopp?” He made a very good point.

“Yes actually, you are right, we should do this instead.” I eagerly nodded as he also had experience with music videos. “And as for when we are shooting, I have no idea, I will call Ace later and hopefully he will give me more info.”

“That’s the lead singer, I guess?” Dave asked, hit of curiosity in his voice. I nodded with a smile in response.

“Now tell me more about your experience with music videos.” I playfully nagged him, as I was interested to know more about how things work with music videos. Dave started to tell me how even before he attended university, he had already done some music videos. Most of his friends were apparently musicians, and as amateurs they couldn’t afford to pay a professional photographer, so knowing about Dave passion with the camera they would always go to him. Time passed quite fast as we were talking, but we got interrupted by my phone, as I received some message.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about me, doll.” I read the message. I cursed myself as I totally forgot to text Ace today, but I wanted to speak with Dave first before I confirmed anything.

“Will you, please, excuse me for a second.” I told Dave, standing quickly from my chair and went outside to call Ace. The phone rang a few times before he picked up.

“Hey, doll.” His low raspy voice filled my ear.

“H-hey Ace. I’m so, so sorry for not calling earlier, I just wanted to check with a classmate from year two if he can help Usopp and me with the video.” I blurted out quickly as I felt embarrassed for making him wait for so long.

“So, I take this, as a ‘yes’ then?” His voice still low.

“Yes, I would love to film your video, Ace.” I whispered, my heart was beating fast against my chest, like I was making a deal with the devil or something close to this. The feeling hit me like a sudden wave, I couldn’t even explain it.

“Glad to hear this.” He whispered back. “What are you doing by the way?”

“I’m out with the classmate I told you about.” I cleared my throat.

“Date?” He teased me.

“No, no. We are talking about the video mostly.” I quickly explained myself. Ace laughed at my response. “What are you doing?” The question slipped my lips before I could stop myself.

“Chillin’ at home.” He hummed.

“Nice.”

“Mmm... if the date is bad I can always safe you, you know?” He joked.

“It’s not a date.” I whined at his comment.

“Sure, sure.” He mocked me again. “Well, wanna meet tomorrow with me and the guys to speak about the video?”

“Yes, this would be actually amazing if we can do this as soon as possible.”

“You got it. Send me your address I will come and pick you up.” A little smile twitched on my lips as he didn’t ask, he just stated it. “Bye, doll.” He quickly ended the call.

I slowly moved my phone from my ear, I could feel my cheeks burning and I quickly shook the feeling away. Opening my messages, I texted Ace my address and got inside the bar. Dave smiled at me as I sat down.

“So, what were we talking about?” I smiled back.

*******

I woke up around 9AM the next morning, as Ace was going to pick me around 10:30. I was tired as I stayed until late last night, creating a storyboard with pictures so they could easily understand what my idea was. I got up, brushed my teeth and made myself a quick breakfast before I got ready. After I did my makeup, I looked around my closet wondering what I should wear today. I set my mind on a flared jeans again and just a simple cropped white t-shirt. My phone vibrated, notifying me that I have a message.

“Here.” It was short and simple; I caught myself smiling at it. I quickly put on my snickers and jacket on, before grabbing my backpack with my laptop in it. I ran down the stairs and when I opened the building’s entranced door, I saw Ace leaned on a motorcycle. He was smoking a cigarette, head tilted on the side. Dressed in all black with a black leather jacket on. He quickly turned around when he heard the front door closing, blowing the smoke away and throwing the cigarette on the ground. When I stood in front of him, he straightened his posture, looking down on me he winked.

“Ready to go, doll?” He smirked at me, handing me a black helmet. I took it and looked at it, then the Kawasaki motorcycle behind him. It was all black and scary looking. I looked back at Ace and shook my head with a scary look in my eyes, handing him the helmet back. He hearty laughed at my reaction.

“Come on, don’t be a baby.” He nodded me to get on it, as he put the helmet on my head. “I got you, doll. Nothing to be scared off.” Ace reassured me as he got on it and waited for me to do the same.

“Ace, I swear to God, if you had told me, you were picking me on this thing I would have never agreed.” He laughed again at my comment as I was shaky getting on it.

“Hold on me tight.” He grabbed my hands and wrapped them around his torso. My poor heart was going to explode. Not only I have to be on this scary thing but on top of it I had to be this close to Ace. “Lean your body on my back.” He looked at me over his shoulder before putting his helmet. I just nodded in response, too scared to speak. Ace turned his bike on and the engine rumbled. I tightened my hold around Ace. I could feel him laughing as his body trembled in my arms. Then he took off. As he was driving, I started to think to myself how much the motorcycle suits him. With getting to know him more and more with every passing day him owning a bike was making a perfect sense. It was as wild and free as his spirit.

Twenty long minutes, we finally arrived where their studio was. Ace parked the motorbike and took off his helmet. He looked at me over his shoulder and chuckled.

“You know, you can let go of me now.” He teased me. I immediately released my grip and took of the helmet. “So how was your first every ride?” The smirk on his face growing bigger, as he saw my flushed and scared face.

“I made it alive, so I give it eight out of ten.” I quickly got off from it.

“Eight out of ten? What should I do to earn the other two stars?” He chuckled, his smile big.

“You drove too fast.” I crossed my arms across my chest.

“I drove fast?” His eyes widen in amusement. “Doll, I swear I have never, ever, driven my bike as slow as I did today.” His whole face was in disbelief.

“Next time even slower.” I pointed my finger at him.

“So, there will be next time?” He teased me with a smirk. I rolled my eyes at him, but I couldn’t hide the little smile that played on my lips.

Ace got off the bike and nodded me to follow him. We entered the building and went to the second floor. Ace opened the door to their studio for me, and I thanked him. Inside Sabo, his girlfriend Koala, and Law were already there.

“Hey you two.” Koala welcomed us with a smile. “Nice to meet you again (Y/N).” She came to hug me. Sabo nodded at me, and Law’s eye widen when he saw me, and I quickly looked away. It was nice to know at least that it was him and not Ace that night at the party.

“Where is Deuce?” Ace asked.

“He is coming, caught in traffic, Marco as well.” Sabo explained. “So, you will be our director?” I could feel the hint of doubt in his voice, and I understood why he would doubt me in a first place. I barely started to study; I was an armature with a capital ‘A’.

“A-as long as you like my idea – y-yeah.” I awkwardly shrugged.

“Well, better be good then.” His tone was quite serious and a little harsh.

“Sabo.” Ace snapped at him, glancing at his brother warningly. Sabo just huffed and looked at me again.

“Sorry (Y/N), I just want the video to be perfect.” His tone was a little softer now. I lowered my gaze to the ground and just nodded.

“You want to drink something?” Koala asked me nicely. I thanked her but denied her offer.

After ten minutes, Deuce and Marco walked in. Deuce greeted me, and Marco introduced himself to me with a handshake.   

“So, you are the director that Ace is putting all his trust for the video on?” Marco patted me on the shoulder with a smile. I glanced at Ace, but he quickly avoided my gaze.

“I guess, I am.” I cleared my throat. “Let me take my laptop, so I can show you the plan that I made yesterday, you can disagree with everything or add things to it as well.” I felt my heart beating fast again, my anxiety starting to built up. I pulled my laptop from my bag and held it in my left hand towards them. “Please let me know if you can’t see something or if it’s not clear enough.” I took a deep breath and started to explain my idea for the video. “The video will be shot in a greyscale, mostly medium shots, with some close ups here and there. The vibe of the whole video should represent the general vibe of the EP itself, so taking the things you guys sing about in the song and the album in general, I suggest that we take some shots of them all together driving around Grand Line coats line in a vintage car, then walking around at a funfair, lounging in an apartment and walking along a beach.” I added at the end that if they were satisfied with the idea, we must shoot next Monday and Tuesday as we would need sunny weather. I patiently waited for their reaction. I looked at Ace, who was leaned on the wall, arms crossed over his chest, he just nodded at me and wink. I heard clapping and turned my head to see who it was.

“Bravo.” Sabo clapped standing up from the sofa. “I love it. And I’m surprised. Wow.” He had a big grin across his face.

“I like it, too.” Law said, nodding at me granting me his approval.

“Same, here.” Deuce added. Koala gave me the thumbs up with a big smile across her face.

“I like the idea as well, but I would like to add one small detail.” Marco said clapping his hands, looking at the guys. “It is romantic song after all, so we need to see some romance. So, I would like to suggest that we hire a model, and we have some scene with her and Ace.” Marco looked at me with raised eyebrows, expecting to hear my opinion on it.

“Y-yeah, o-of course.” I chuckled, nodding my head slightly. “As long as Ace feels comfortable with it, we can include it.” We all looked at Ace.

“Why me, tho?” He raised his eyebrow toward Marco. “Can’t Sabo do it with Koala? This will save us time and money.” He pointed out.

“Because you are the lead singer in the group Ace, and as one, the main focus is on you.” Marco explained short and clearly.

“Ha, Ace, since when you mind making out with models?” Deuce mocked Ace.

“I don’t, I’m just thinking if we are doing this on Monday and Tuesday, how we gonna find a girl so fast?” Ace rolled his eyes.

“Like you don’t know a hundred pretty girls.” Law snorted at him. Ace laughed at him and told Law to shut up. Marco interrupted them.

“Guys if you can’t find a girl, this is why I’m here for.”

“What you gonna dress up as a girl and make out with Ace?” Sabo joked and everyone burst out laughing at Marco.

“Of course not, but I can always contact a model agency.” Marco huffed, as much as these guys were talented, they were as much as hard to work with as well. “So, we make it possible, right?” He turned to look at me. I just nodded at him. “Perfect, I will contact you for the payment later and you sent me an email with what you would need for the set and what we should rent and whatsoever.” He handed me his business card and bit us all goodbye.

“Have you guys ever been in a video or something before?” I asked them as I was putting my laptop inside my bag. They all said ‘no’. “Well, better prepare as it will feel strange to see yourself on the screen.” I laughed a little.

“Have you done it yourself?” Deuce asked me.

“Yeah, and I hate it, that is why I prefer to be behind the camera.” I have always felt bad for the actors, as I knew it wasn’t easy at all for them to look at themselves on the big screen. I have done it a few times and I hated the feeling of seeing myself. The difference between a phone camera versus film camera was so big people had no idea. Even my father, till this day doesn’t feel comfortable to see himself, and he is pretty self-obsessed person. “Well, I will have to contact Usopp and Dave and let them know that we are doing it this Monday and Tuesday, I will have to go now as I will need to find locations where we could film without a problem.” I announced as I grabbed my bag and bit everyone goodbye.

“Wait, I will come with you.” Ace came after me.

“No need, I can do it alone.” I reassure him.

“I didn’t ask, doll.” He winked at me, closing the door behind us.

**********

We arrived at the west coastline beach after almost forty-minute ride. We got of his bike and Ace smirked when he locked at me.

“How was the ride this time?” Ace teased me.

“Honestly this time you could have driven faster.” I teased him as well.

“You little...” He hissed at me, biting the inside of his cheek as he shook his head.

“Hop, hop, we don’t have all day mister.” I clapped my hands and made him follow me. I started to take some pictures of where would be best for us to stand and shoot them driving by as we had to be careful with how fast they should move. Ace was quite polite to write down every note for me, and things that we would need. Then we went to look around at the funfair.

“Do you wanna get on one of the rides?” Ace whispered in my ear as I was taking pictures making mental notes to myself.

“Oh, I would love to, but now we have to work, so some other time.” I moved my head slightly as I answered him, not realising how close he was standing to me, only for our faces to end up millimetres apart. We both took a step away from the other quickly. Ace cleared his throat telling me that I was right, and we should focus on work.

Time passed so fast and before we know it the sun was setting. It was beautiful, the sky was coloured in light pink and purple, the waves were crashing softly, as today it wasn’t windy at all. Some people were sitting on the beach, others were running around or playing with there kids or dogs. It almost felt like a summer day even thought it wasn’t. We were walking on the beach, shoes in one hand as we were talking about random stuffs, it was so easy to open and speak with Ace. The comfort I felt around him was so strange and nice at the same time, something that I have never experienced with another person before.

“And how are you and Shanks related?” Ace asked, his eyes not leaving my face.

“Well, we are not blood related, let me clarify this first.” I waved my hands around. “But him and my dad have been like brothers since they were kids, so yeah. Ever since I can remember Shanks has been part of my life...” I paused for a second, swallowing the bitterness in my voice. “Especially after my mother left me and my dad, he literally became my second dad.” I exhaled the breath that I didn’t even realise I was holding.

“I’m sorry to hear this, doll.” Ace gave me a soft look, as he ruffed my hair. I pouted at him as I tried to fix it, and he chuckled. “Look at least, you grew up with a father that from what you’ve told me so far, loves you unconditionally.” His voice was so gentle when he told me this.

“Yes, I am lucky to have a father like him.” I smiled thinking of my dad.

“But... I don’t know if I should ask this or how...” Ace paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. “Why she left...?” He glanced at me, to make sure that he didn’t overstep some boundary. “Actually, don’t answer this forget about it.” He brushed it off quickly.

“No, it’s okay.” I shrugged, I felt like I could open about it to him. “She never wanted to be a mother in a first place, so after she gave birth to me, she got in a very deep postpartum depression, and it did take a big tool on her.” I paused for a minute. “My dad tried everything to help her, but she refused, and she turned to hard drugs, so... yeah my mother is a junkie.” I breath out, looking at Ace who was listening to me, but his gaze was lowered to the sand. “When I was around five, she just left a note that she doesn’t want to hear or see us anymore, and since then I have no idea where she is. My dad still cares for her, and I never really understood why, especially after all she put him through. I found a few years ago that he is her emergency contact, and I got mad about it, as she doesn’t deserve him. Last year she tried to contact me, but cut her off fast...” I bit on my lip, looking at the sand as Ace and I were walking in a silence for a moment. “But yeah, this is the short version.” I clapped my hands, dropping one of my shoes and picked it up. “Your turn now. I’m curious to know how you are all brothers, yet your last names are all different” I pushed Ace’s shoulder a little bit, causing him to chuckle.

“Well, we are not blood related at all.” Ace laughed when he saw my reaction.

“Wait, what? Even with Luffy? You two are like twins.” I couldn’t believe what I’ve heard.

“Yeah, I know it’s scary how much we look alike, but no, not related at all.”

“I’m really curious now, but if you don’t feel like speaking about it’s okay.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I can share a little bit.” Ace poked my side, and I giggled. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “My mom died when I was born, and my father has been killed a little before my mom gave birth to me, so I know nothing about my parents.” I saw his jaw clenching hard as the tone of his voice changed as well. “Then her sister, my aunt Dadan, took me and raised me.” He snorted, his tone sounded lightly but his face was giving him away. Sadness and pain were written all over it.  “Then she applied for a foster parent, and that is how Sabo came to the picture. As you know he is her favourite.” Ace looked at me tossing his hair aside the same way Sabo does all the time, and I couldn’t help but laughed. “Then the most annoying, gut wrenching, cry baby ever came into our home aka Luffy. God, I hated him from the bottom of my hear at first.” The way Ace was telling his story was heartbreaking, as he was trying to turn it into comedy so bad. My heart was aching for him. “Then some things happened and as of today, I can really say that Luffy is the only person I’m willing to give my life for.” The smile he had on his face when he was talking about Luffy was so pure and honest.

“I don’t know Luffy very well, but he does look like quite the pure soul.” I smiled at Ace as he nodded.

“You should definitely get to know him; he is the best.” Ace eagerly said his mood totally changed now. I felt my stomach growing and Ace looked at me. “Someone’s hungry, eh.”

“Yeah, I have only eaten a breakfast today.” I chuckled.

“I know a very nice Italian place here, wanna go and try it?”

“You don’t need to ask me twice.” We both shared a laughed and started to walk toward the restaurant.

********

The drive to my place took us almost an hour. A long and a very scary hour, as I had to ride on the back of Ace’s motorbike for a third time today. When he finally stopped in front of my place I relaxed on his body. We stayed like this for a minute – my hands wrapped around his torso and as I was leaned on him, and he had his hands on my knees. He was he first one to take of his helmet, running his hand around his messy hair. I pulled away from him, taking my helmet off as well. Ace looked over his shoulders at me.

“You had fun today, doll?” His eyes half lidded; he seemed a little tired.

 “I did.” I smiled at him, getting off from the bike. He nodded with a smile at my response. “We see on Monday then. Thank you for the rides, and the dinner by the way.” I added, but Ace brushed me off.

“Please, that’s nothing.” He winked at me, pinching my cheek. I scrunched my nose at him, and he laughed at me. “Well, see you on Monday, doll.” He went to put back his helmet before I stopped him.

“Wait, Ace.” I grabbed his hand, as he lowered it and looked at me, raising his eyebrow. “You were the only one who didn’t say anything about the video idea... did you not like it?” My hand still on his, he just gave it a little squeeze and smiled at me.

“I loved it, doll.” Then he went on and put his helmet on. “Now go home.” He ordered me. I nodded and turned around to go. As I opened the front door, I waved at him one more time, as he was waiting for me get in safe, before he drove off.

************

I woke up at 6AM on Monday, as we were going to our first location at 8AM. Yesterday Usopp, Dave and I spent the whole day making the floorplan and the storyboard based on the pictures I took on Saturday at the locations. I sent the call sheet and a list of things we need for the shooting. Marco surprised me so much by how fast he arranged and found everything that we would need for the shoot. I quickly dressed myself in a pair of baggy jeans and oversized hoodie. I put some day cream and mascara on as I didn’t have much time to get ready, and received a text from Usopp that him and Dave were downstairs. We were going with Dave’s car as the west coastline was an hour drive away. I quickly put my sneakers on and left. Usopp and Dave greeted me when I opened the passenger door.

“Ready to film your first music video?” Dave charmingly smiled at me. I nodded with a smile. “Good, we got you some coffee.” Dave said, and Usopp handed me one, him sitting on the backseat.

“Are you guys ready? It’s going to be a long day.” I took a sip of my coffee, hating the taste of it as always. They both nodded and we drove off. Usopp was in charge of the music in the car, so we had a fun ride. We arrived on time and started to unload the equipment Marco rented for us, as he wanted the best quality for the video. Law and Deuce were the first ones to arrive. I spoke with them on the side while Usopp and Dave were fixing the camera.

“Do you know when Ace and Sabo are coming?” I asked them, as I wanted everything to go according to the time schedule.

“Yea, they will be here soon.” Law replied.

“They had to go and take the car that Marco rented for today.” Deuce explained to me. While we waited for them, I explained a little bit to Law and Deuce what I would need them to do while we film. After fifteen minutes we heard a honk. We all turned around and saw Ace and Sabo driving slowly towards us in a very nice 1969 Mercedes-Benz. Sabo was the one behind the wheel, and Ace was chilling on the passenger seat. They parked and got out of the car.

“Yo, what’s up people, you liking my ride?” Sabo pointed at the car. “I will be the one driving it, keep this in mind.” He squinted his eyes at Law and Deuce giving them a warning look. “How is the director doing?” He gave me a hug which surprised me.

“I’m doing good, thanks. You, Sabo?” He gave me the thumbs up and went to speak with Usopp and Dave. “Hey, Ace.” I waved at him as he was standing next to the car, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey, (Y/N).” He gave me a little smile, but I tilted my head and raised my eyebrow at him. What happened with ‘doll’? I walked up and stood in front of him.

“Are you okay?” I was concerned, was he in a bad mood or something. Ace looked at me confused, moving his head on the side blowing the smoke away.

“Yeah? Why?” He chuckled. I blinked a few times and shook my head.

“Nothing, just... just checking on you.” I murmured. “Are you excited to start shooting?” I bounced on my heels, as I waved my hands in the air. Ace laughed at me as he took another puff of his cigarette.

“I think you are the most excited among all of us.” He smiled at me.

“(Y/N)! Can you come, please?” Dave shouted, him and Usopp needing me to help them. I mouthed a quick ‘sorry’ to Ace and went to check on them.

After twenty minutes we were ready to start shooting. I explained to the guys what I would need them to do for the first scene we were shooting and they all nodded understanding my instructions.

“Oh, and one last thing when we shoot a take, I will be most likely first check with Dave and then with you guys and it’s technical stuffs, so don’t think you are doing a bad job, okay.” I gave them the thumbs up, and we were ready to start. The first scene we were shooting was of them driving down the street, we shoot it from five different angles, and we were switching between medium to medium close-up shots. It took us around an hour and a half to be done with this. Then we drove besides them in the same speed so we could catch a better close-ups of them in the car. We finished around lunch time, so we decided to take an hour break. I wasn’t hungry, as when I’m working, I get too focused on the task that I skip meals, so instead I wanted to go and take some shoots of the buildings around us and the palms.

“You guys go, and remember we will meet at the funfair entrance, okay?” I said as I picked the camera stand under my arm and the camera case I was holding in my other hand.

“Don’t tell me you are not going to eat.” Ace scolded me.

“I want to take some shoots of the buildings around, so we don’t waste time later and I’m not hungry, so you go guys.” I reassure him. He was going to protest when Dave interrupted him.

“I will come with you (Y/N). I don’t want you to carry all of this by yourself.” He came next to me and took everything from my hands.

“Are you sure, Dave?” I didn’t want to take from his time of the break as he was already doing too much by helping me and Usopp.

“Of course, I am. Come on, I’m following you.” He gave me a coy smile and I nodded. I waved the guys goodbye for now, everyone else waved too, except Ace. He side-eyed me and shook his head before following the guys. I frowned confused as of why he did this. I nodded to Dave to follow me, and we started to walk. The hour went fast, but luckily thanks to Dave’s experience we captured everything I had in mind. Dave was fun to hang around with. We were laughing and joking the entire time.

“So, you want me to handheld the camera when we shoot at the funfair?” He asked me again, making sure that he understood correctly.

“Yes, exactly.” We went back to his car to leave the camera stand as we wouldn’t need it anymore.

“Have I done something bad to you?” He joked with me, and I giggled at his expression. Doing a handheld shoot was probably the worst thing for the cinematographer. I messed around with him and squeezed his bicep.

“Nah, Dave, I think you can handle it perfectly.” I winked at him, and we both laughed. We started to walk towards the funfair where we were meeting the guys next. When we reached the entrance, everyone was already there. “Hello, again guys. Hopefully you had a nice break, as now we are back to work” I gave them a big smile, Sabo and Deuce cheered, Law just nodded, and Ace’s face was unreadable. I cleared my throat and explained to them that right now they just need to have fun, and we will try our best to capture everything that we would need for later when editing. Usopp and Dave were switching every few minutes, so their hands didn’t get too tired. I was having quite lot of fun with them and so did the guys, at least it seemed like it. Ace and I locked gazes a few times, but he was the one who broke it first every time. Was he mad at me for something? I tried to shake this feeling away and focus on my main priority right now.

 “And it’s a wrap.” I shouted and everyone clapped.

“Uh, I hate you (Y/N).” Dave smirked at me as he took off the camera from his shoulder and gave it to me so I can check the last footage we shoot. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he chuckled at me. Usopp came next to me to check the footage as well.

“Do you guys want to see it?” I looked at them four, but they shook their heads.

“We want to wait and see the finished material.” Sabo exclaimed.

“Okay, then we see you all tomorrow at...” I turned to Usopp as he knew the call sheet better than me.

“3PM, the attic apartment Marco rented for the day. You have the address on the call sheet. Also, Ace should I contact the girl that’s coming tomorrow and give her the info, or you will do it?” I have totally forgot about this part, a little pang of jealousy grew inside of me, but then I remind myself ‘no lines to be crossed’.

“I will be picking her up, so I will take care of this.” I bit the inside of my cheek when he said that. I gave him a quick glance and I saw a little smirk playing on his lips.

“By the way, who did you ask?” Law raised his eyebrow at Ace with curiosity.

“Samantha.”

“Wasn’t she pissed at you for ditching her at the Halloween party?” Sabo mocked his brother.

“Not anymore.” Ace snorted. I cleared my throat and turned to the guys who were messing with each other.

“Well, then guys.” I clapped my hands and put my fake smile on. “Thank you for today and see you tomorrow then.” I avoided looking at Ace while waiting for Usopp and Dave to put everything back in the case. Once they were ready, we all said goodbye and went back to Dave’s car.

“That was fun, can’t wait for tomorrow.” Usopp exclaimed once we were in the car.

“Yeah, these guys are fun to work with.” Dave agreed with him. “Hey, are you okay? You seem a little down.” Dave observed my face. I recomposed myself and smiled at him.

“Yes, yes, I am. Just a little tired.” He patted my back gently, believing what I told him. We drove off and I leaned on my head on the window. Tomorrow was going to be an even longer and tiresome day. I closed my eyes for a second and I fell asleep in the car.

********

“Everything set up?” I asked Usopp and Dave.

“Yes, it’s all done.” Dave nodded at me. I breath out as I looked at the band.

“Where is Ace?” One thing I would never tolerate was someone being late on set, without notifying anyone. And Ace was almost forty minutes late.

“He is coming, maybe he is in traffic or something.” Sabo tried to defend his brother.

“You know what guys, lets start shooting.” I clapped my hands. “Which one of you wants to be filmed first as we will roll some close-ups?”

“I can do it.” Sabo volunteered. I nodded and gave them some instructions as it would be easier if they interacted between each other even though the camera would be focused mostly on Sabo.

An hour later Ace finally showed up with his arm wrapped around the shoulders of the girl, which I guess was named Samantha.

“Sorry guys for being late.” He bit us a quick apology. I didn’t even look at him as I was so pissed. “This is Samantha, and she will be helping us for today so be nice.” She giggled at his introduction, and she waved everyone ‘hello’. Usopp and Dave greeted her, as they introduced themselves by shaking hands with her. She came to me reached her hand for a handshake. We shook hands and I bit her a quick ‘hello’.

“At least, you aren’t the only girl now.” She smiled at me; I nodded at her and returned the smile. She was beautiful – tall, blonde, with a very nice body; she was like a real-life Barbie. I cleared my throat.

“Well now that everyone is here, we need to take a master-shot of you guys, then some medium and the last thing we will do is the close-up of Ace and his scene with Samanta, clear?” My tone was quite serious.

“Can’t we take mine and Samantha’s first?” Ace asked me and I finally glanced at him. He had this smug look on his face, that pissed me off even more, but I kept my composure and answered him with a smile.

“No, Ace we can’t. Why we can’t, you may wonder? Because we waited for you for almost two hours, so now you will have to wait, am I clear?” The smile might have been on my face, but my tone was sharp and clear that he shouldn’t mess with me right now. He just smirked and nodded, not saying anything further. “Then let’s start rolling.” I clapped and explained what they should do now for the master. Two hours later we were done with it and only Ace and Samantha’s scenes were left to shoot.

“Thank you, guys so much. It was so nice to work with you. We don’t need you in the rest of the pictures but it’s up to you if you want to stay here or go and do whatever you want.” I spoke to Sabo, Law and Deuce.  Sabo came and hugged me as he thanked me and said he can’t wait to see the final result. Deuce did the same, and Law just high-fived me. They bit goodbye to the rest and left.

“So, according to the story board we have two close-ups left and one medium close-up of the two of them.” Dave came to me and spoke over my shoulder. I looked up at him and nodded. “Which one should we take first? Hers or his?”

“Let’s take hers first.” I nodded at him. “Hey, Samantha.” I called her, as she was standing in front of Ace, as they were obviously flirting with each other. She turned to face me, looking at me a little confused. “Sorry for interrupting your conversation, but we need to take some shots of you alone, so I will need you to stand next by the window and then on the couch.” She quickly did as I told her to, and we started to roll. It didn’t take us long to shoot her angles only around twenty minutes. I thanked her, and then turned to Ace. He was looking at me, face unreadable again. I clenched my jaw as today he was really walking on my nerves.

“It’s your turn Ace.” I called him. He pushed himself from the wall and came closer to me.

“So, what do you need from me, director?” His tone was light, but his face was like a stone. I bit the inside of my cheek before answering him.

“The same as her.” I gave him the shortest answer possible. He nodded and stood next to the window. There was this built-up tension between us, Dave looked at me raising his eyebrow. I shook my head at him like everything was fine, and he slowly nodded. We had to readjust the camera as Ace was quite tall. We started to roll, and I couldn’t take my eyes of the screen. He did look very good in front of the camera; I couldn’t deny him that. The way his hair was falling around his face, his freckles, his dark brow eyes and his full lips, he will definitely sweep away many harts once they become known name. “And cut.” I softly said moving my gaze from the screen to him. Our eyes locked, but I locked away.

“Okay, let’s move to the last scene we have to film and it’s a wrap after it.” I cleared my throat before looking at Samantha waving at her to join. “Now I need you to get closer to each other, and the most important thing is that Samantha feels comfortable with whatever you guys spoke about doing, so the moment you feel slightly uncomfortable we cut on the second, okay?” I locked at her seriously, as I didn’t want to put any woman in a position where she might feel uncomfortable on set.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry (Y/N), I know Ace very well.” She winked at me mischievously. I shared a fake laughed with her, but good thing she didn’t catch it.

“Okay, so whenever you guys are ready, just let us know and we will start to roll.” I stand between Dave and Usopp. “And action.” I called. Samantha went and laid down on the couch, taking Ace’s hand in hers, making him hoover over her. She ran her hands up and down his back, up to his neck, pulling him closer to her. Then she buried her fingers in his hair. She pulled him even closer as she pulled herself up a little. They were inches away from kissing each other, and I bit the inside of my cheek, my hands squeezed in a fist. I couldn’t watch this any further.

“Cut.” I called out. Everyone locked at me confused. “What?” I smiled innocently at them.

“Why did you cut?” Samantha asked me and frowned when Ace pulled up from her. I could see his smug smirk on his face. I moved my attention back to Samantha and with a smile I replied to her.

“Because we have it, it’s perfect, you can check it out if you want.” I suggested looking at the footage again.

“It’s pretty good.” Dave reassured her.

“Well, you are the professionals, so if you say it’s good, I believe you, but still, I want to see.” I moved aside so she could look at the screen. “Oh my, Ace.” She squeaked excitedly, looking at Ace. “We look so hot; you should see that.” Ace made a grimace and shook his head. I covered my mouth to suppress my laughter. Ace saw me and rolled his eyes at me, which lighted up my mood. I calmed myself and announced that we were done.

“It’s a wrap guys.” Dave and Usopp cheered, and Samantha clapped her hands. Ace only nodded. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Ace.” I was still pissed at him, but at the same time grateful. “I should edit it by Friday and when it’s done, I will send it to Marco.” I told him as we started to pack the equipment.

“No need to thank me, (Y/N).” Ace patted me on the shoulder, before he nodded to Samantha to get going. She wished us good night and they left. The bitter feeling of jealousy came back. I couldn’t deny it, but also there was no point of me being jealous. He was just my friend, a friend who was walking on a thin ice around my nerves, nothing more or less.

“Well-done guys, well-done.” Usopp high-fived me and Dave. “I can’t wait to see how it will turn our after you edit it (Y/N).” He exclaimed excitedly.

“You know if you need help with the editing, you can always call me.” Dave added, coming closer to me.

“I think I will manage, but I will keep this in mind.” I smiled at him. “Let’s pack these faster guys, I’m starving, and I really want to go home.”

**********

I was laying in bed; it was almost midnight, and I couldn’t fall asleep. I was tossing and turning in bed for the past hour and a half. Ace was stuck in my mind, and that scene between him and Samantha. On top of it, the whole ‘Me and Ace know each other good’ was like on repeat in my mind. Knowing that I will have to edit and look at the footage of it was eating me from the inside. And what was with his attitude in the past two days? I swear Ace from Saturday and Ace from the past two days, were two completely different people. My phone vibrated. I grabbed it and I sighed loudly as I read the message on the screen.

“Did someone step on your tail today, doll?”

I hesitated if I should reply. The audacity this man has.

“Yea, someone who was almost two hours late.” I angrily typed and sent. Not even a minute later he replied.

“Sorry, about that doll ;(” I just left him on seen. “I would love to be the first one to see it btw” he sent a second message.

“I will think about that” I replied.

“Don’t be mad at me, doll” I just looked at the message from the notification banner and didn’t even mark it as seen. Also, the ‘doll’ thing was back, not that I wanted him to call me this, especially in front of everyone else, but I kind of got used to him calling me that. I turned on the TV to watch something that would hopefully put me to sleep. ‘Fucking Ace’ I cursed under my breath.

************************************************************************

next chapter ->

NOTE: Sooo.... I really hope you liked the chapter, and the interactions Ace and Reader had. From now on there will be more and more of it. Also I gave you a little bit of Ace's pov in this chapter, but still there is so much more to reveal of his character, as in general Ace is a very complex persona (AND I LOVE HIM WITH WITH MY WHOLE HEART AND SOUL). Please leave your opinion or text me, as I would love to get to interact with more of you <3 and a big thank you for all of you who take off your time and read my fanfic, I know it's not the best written one but I appreciate your support with all my hear <3

[sepublic]

According to some FtF storyboards that were cut (presumably for time), Manny met Camila twenty years prior to the start of the series; And since the show takes place in 2022, this would’ve been during 2002. And since Luz is 14, this means Camila and Manny knew one another for six years, and at some point married during that time before eventually having Luz.

Season 1B had an episode that was scrapped called Homesick, which would’ve had Luz discover a Healing Glyph and also reflect on her parents; At this point in production, Camila was a nurse before that got retconned, but it was revealed that Manny was an ambulance driver. The FtF storyboards are much more recent and borderline canon, so we can surmise Manny and Camila did meet at a Cosmic Frontier convention, and their workplaces didn’t happen to intersect.

But if we still want to retain this detail on Manny, you can guess why Camila resonated with him and vice-versa, as people who both had a very compassionate spirit. Manny especially as someone who builds people up.

And there’s a dark irony in Manny always bringing people to hospitals, because he would be quite familiar with those who are on the verge of death, who might be skirting close to it, maybe even people who did die on the way… So he was always aware of mortality and he’d have to consider his own. And so after all this time, he would be the one being brought to a hospital, different ones, it’s why they chose Gravesfield specifically. His life and death, defined by hospitals; His peak and decline, defined by hospitals. How does Luz feel about such buildings now?

Manny would’ve empathized a lot with those in charge, but did he ever imagine he would empathize like this? Sometimes I think of the little fan theory that the Abomaton alarm genuinely triggered Luz because it reminded her of an ambulance that took her father to the hospital during a sudden medical emergency. These alarms are never pleasant anyway, nor is their context, but on some level it must hurt for something tied to her father and how he helped people to just be a reminder of how he couldn’t be helped. The hospital was once associated with her father’s heroics, but now…

On a brighter note, you could say that after helping people, Manny gets helped in return; But in the end it wasn’t enough. Or it did help, because it still got him some extra time with his family, enough to figure something out for his daughter that would keep her alive. Looking at the parallels to his daughter that he consciously taught, I wonder if Manny also wanted to be a hero; Luz’s obsession came from the book specifically, because it came from her dad.

Was Manny drawn to the medical industry to also help people? If so, he actually understood what people needed, which was more healers who could build people up. He didn’t become a cop or anything. And such a mundane and unglamorous way of life is better for the world; Because I think of how Luz wanted to be a hero, but aside from one gag with the Gildersnake, her focus has always been on helping people and not destroying her enemies.

You can see this in the good Luz has done, which comes more from helping others, some of whom were her enemies, than destroying or taking down people; The final enemy she can’t really help, Luz doesn’t even destroy herself, nor directly at least. And I think that hearkens a lot to what her father and mother do, and I wonder if that’s a specific ideal Manny had. Azura, as Luz describes it, is someone who befriends people and even enemies.

So I wonder if Manny actually read though the book, if he thought consciously what his final message was because it’s not just the act of giving the book itself, its what the book says, it’s how he’s choosing to impart his final beliefs by choosing something he thinks reflects them.

He’s not afraid of weird looks, it’s already acceptable for an adult like Mildred Featherwhyle to write this and consider her messages anyhow, so yeah he’ll read it in his hospital bed and place this under a critical lens. If anyone looks at him funny, Manny will snap at them unapologetically, Hey I’m dying, lemme have this! He wouldn’t need death as an excuse, mind you.

So Manny is an ‘author’ in a way, creating a message for his daughter, the other hidden author to Luz’s favorite fantasy. And Luz is the author of her own fantasy. Manny’s already a massive nerd, it’s what led him to Camila, to Luz, of course he’ll give that to her; It’s what leads Luz to Amity.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Hi Nausicaa)) would you consider writing a story about reader bring James doctor after Montreal accident? Like he wakes up and thinks he’s dead cause she looked like an angel? But she is aware of who he is (and the booze and the groupies) so she refuses his advances as she thinks he’s just wants a new experience- smart, clean girl? And this goes on for a while until he kinda ruins it when he suggests to donate money to hospital if she goes out with him- that makes her feel like a prostitute? So next day he’s assigned a new doctor? But james throws a tantrum refuses to change bandages and take meds until she has to come to his room? And he convinces her that he’s got good intentions?

I hope you like it❤

Healing touch

When James Hetfield woke up for the first time, I wasn’t expecting him to speak. His injuries were severe, his body a patchwork of bruises and bandages. Frankly, I’d expected him to drift in and out of consciousness for at least a day or two. But of course, the man opened his eyes, blinked blearily at me, and said:  

“Am I dead?”  

I froze mid-chart. His voice was low, scratchy, and full of confusion. He squinted at me, his expression almost childlike.  

“Not quite,” I replied, keeping my tone light. “But you tried hard enough to get there.” 

 

He studied me for a long moment, his brow furrowing like he was trying to piece something together. Then he asked, “Are you an angel?”  

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Not even close,” I said, shaking my head.  

That was my first real conversation with James Hetfield.  

As a doctor, you hear things. The staff was buzzing the moment he came in. “Did you hear? Metallica’s frontman—James Hetfield—is here!” There were hushed whispers about the accident, about his reputation. Tales of his wild drinking, his fiery temper, the endless stream of women.  

I ignored it all. He was just another patient to me—a man who needed stitches, bandages, and someone to keep him alive. The rest? It didn’t matter.  

But James didn’t make it easy to keep things professional.  

He started with the harmless stuff, little comments while I checked his vitals or cleaned his wounds.  

“You’ve got magic hands,” he said once, wincing but grinning as I rewrapped his bandages.  

“Do they hurt less when you flatter me?” I shot back.  

“Worth a try.”  

It became a thing with him. Every shift, every check-up, there’d be a joke or a compliment.  

“You’re my favorite doctor,” he’d say.  

“I’m only your doctor,” I’d reply.

He’d just smile, like that was enough.  

I thought I had him figured out—a rock star used to getting his way, trying to charm me out of sheer boredom. But sometimes, I’d catch something unexpected—a quiet vulnerability in the way he’d ask questions about his recovery or thank the nurses when he thought no one was looking.  

It threw me off balance. Enough to make me curious, even if I didn’t want to admit it.  

It happened on an otherwise quiet afternoon. James was feeling better that day, his voice stronger, his humor sharper.  

“So,” he started casually as I adjusted the IV line. “How many times do I have to ask before you’ll say yes to dinner?” 

 

I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “James, I’m your doctor. It would be completely inappropriate.”  

“Okay,” he said, leaning back with a smirk. “What if I weren’t your patient? Hypothetically.”  

“You are.”  

He tilted his head, clearly undeterred. “What if I made a donation to the hospital? A big one. Like, massive. But only if you agree to go out with me.”  

I froze, the words hitting me like a slap. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. But no—he was sitting there, looking proud of himself, like he’d just solved a problem.  

“Are you serious?” I asked, my voice cold.  

“Yeah, why not? I’d be helping the hospital, and—”  

I cut him off, shaking my head. “Unbelievable.”  

“What?”  

“You think you can just... buy me? Is that how this works in your world? Throw some money around and people fall at your feet?”

  

His face fell, the smugness replaced with genuine confusion. “No! That’s not what I meant—”  

“I don’t care what you meant,” I snapped, grabbing my clipboard. “I’m done here.”  

I didn’t wait for his response. I walked out of the room and straight to the nurse’s station, requesting an immediate reassignment. 

 

I thought that was the end of it. But the next day, I got called into the nurse’s lounge.  

“It’s Hetfield,” one of my colleagues said, exasperated. “He’s refusing everything—meds, bandage changes, even water. Says he won’t cooperate unless you talk to him.”  

I groaned. “Are you serious?”  

“Oh, completely. He’s throwing a tantrum. Honestly, I think he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”  

That was how I found myself standing outside his room, debating whether to walk in or just let him self-destruct. But professionalism won out. With a deep breath, I pushed open the door.  

“Really?” I said, crossing my arms as I stepped inside. “You’re holding your own recovery hostage?”  

He looked up at me, a sheepish expression on his face. “It got you to come back, didn’t it?”  

I sighed, resisting the urge to throw something at him. “What do you want, James?”  

He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “To apologize,” he said finally. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I wasn’t trying to... buy you or whatever. I just... I don’t know. I thought it was a good idea at the time.” 

I stared at him, unmoved. “That’s your apology?”  

He sat up straighter, wincing slightly. “Look, I’m not good at this, okay? I like you. I know you think I’m just some sleazy rock star trying to get another notch on his belt, but it’s not like that. You don’t treat me like some big deal. You call me on my crap. And I don’t want to screw this up.”  

His voice cracked on the last sentence, and something in me softened despite myself.  

It wasn’t an instant fix. I agreed to take him back as a patient, but I kept my guard up. He seemed to sense it, too, because he stopped trying so hard. Instead, he started showing me who he really was—a man who could be thoughtful, funny, and surprisingly kind.  

Over the next few weeks, as I watched him heal, I realized I’d misjudged him. He wasn’t perfect, but he was trying to be better. And that counted for something.  

______ 

Weeks after James was discharged, I found a package waiting for me at the hospital. Inside was a handwritten note and a single concert ticket.  

“Thank you for everything. No strings attached. -James”

I stared at the note, rereading the words over and over. It was such a simple gesture, yet it carried more weight than I wanted to admit. No flashy promises, no over-the-top declarations—just a quiet thank you. 

 

For days, I debated what to do. Part of me wanted to ignore it, shove the ticket in a drawer and pretend it didn’t exist. But another part, the part that lingered on his smile or the way he’d apologized so earnestly, wouldn’t let it go.  

By the end of my next shift, the ticket was still in my bag, tucked away but heavy with possibility. That evening, after I’d showered and changed, I reached for the phone. My fingers dialed the number he’d scrawled at the bottom of the note.   Finally, with a deep breath, I dialed.   It rang twice before I heard his voice. “Hello?”  

“Hi,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “It’s me. Your ‘favorite doctor.' 

There was a beat of silence, and then he laughed—warm and unguarded. “Hey, favorite doctor. Didn’t think I’d hear from you. How are you?”  

“I’m fine,” I said. “I just... I got your note.”  

“Oh,” he said, his voice dipping into something softer. “Right. I, uh... I wasn’t sure if you’d—”  

“I read it,” I interrupted, my lips curving into a small smile he couldn’t see. “And you know, James, I think you deserve a prize.” 

 

“A prize?” he repeated, clearly confused. “What kind of prize are we talking about here?”  

I took a breath, letting the moment stretch. “The kind where I say… I’d like to go. To your concert.”

  

The silence on the other end of the line felt like it stretched for miles, and I wondered if I’d made a mistake. But then his voice came back, almost breathless. 

 

“Are you serious?”  

“Yes,” I said, and then added with a teasing edge, “But just so we’re clear—no strings attached.”  

That laugh of his—it came fast and full of relief, like he’d been holding his breath. “No strings, huh?” he said, his tone lighter now, playful. “Okay, no strings. I’ll take it. You don’t know how much this means to me.” 

 

I could hear the emotion in his voice, and for a moment, it made my chest ache. I wasn’t sure what I was stepping into, or where it would lead, but for once, I wasn’t overthinking it.  

“Well,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “You’d better put on a good show. I’m not easy to impress.”  

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, his voice brighter now, filled with something close to joy. “I’ve got a feeling you’ll leave impressed.”  

As I hung up the phone, I stared at the ticket in my hand, the corner of it frayed where I’d fiddled with it. Against all odds, I smiled. 

 

Maybe, just maybe, this was worth the risk.