#hey you know what i might write this one as well

[transmutationisms]

Hey. So that claim that stimulants do completely different things for people who “have ADHD” and “don’t have ADHD” is obviously bullshit but I was wondering if you happen to have read anything I could refer to about that

Okay I want to try using this to break down how I would actually approach this type of question, inspired by some posts I've seen recently about how to read and analyse things that are wrong / bad / liberal.

I don't have, off the top of my head, a published & refereed source that discusses this particular claim. I'm pretty certain there is at least one such thing out there. But I'm also pretty confident it won't be very good. The claim it's responding to is relatively historically recent, & is cloaked in still-fashionable neurobiological terms. Also, the literature on ADHD is bad in general, and so is the general quality of the kinds of imaging studies that are cited to support such claims about 'brain differences.'

If I were writing a literature review or a historiography, here is the part where I would need to go find these things anyway. Then I would have to explain how they make their arguments and what's missing, and depending on the scope of the piece I might have to explain my own philosophical / political position, and advance my methodological critique of the literature I just spent several days finding & reading.

Fortunately I'm writing a tumblr post & my sense is your actual question is "how can I better argue against this obviously bullshit claim," so I don't have to do any of that. There's not really much point sinking that kind of time and effort into finding a source I already think is unlikely to adequately make the argument I'm looking for anyway.

Instead, I would now look at the claim itself. What must be true in order for it to hold?

ADHD brains differ from non-ADHD brains

This difference is relevant to the action/metabolism of stimulant drugs

Okay, claim two on that list requires dealing with psychopharmacology & very exact physiological mechanisms, which means a shitload more reading and most of it punishingly dry and technical. Sad & bad.

Fortunately, though, I already know -- from every reading ever, as well as my experience existing on earth -- that ADHD is not diagnosed by any sort of brain scan, anatomical observation, blood test, etc, but by subjective (yes, even if they made you do it on a computer) clinical observation. Hmm, that's super weird for something that is a 'brain difference.'

I also know that psychiatric categories are difficult to correlate with biological observations even where those observations do exist, because an imaging study on ADHD is necessarily only pulling the 'ADHD sample' from people already diagnosed with ADHD. It's circular. Philosophically this is the same problem I laid out in section one of 'What is an alien?' (which you can read & understand even if the main topic of the essay doesn't interest you).

And I also know that brain imaging studies generally are riddled with serious methodological flaws (post discusses the dead salmon study among others) and don't actually produce meaningful, replicable biological distinctions in any kind of correlation with psychiatric categories (also, variation within categories is also very high).

Oh, wait. Now the claim above looks like patent nonsense with zero philosophical foundations. The burden of proof is on whoever's making that claim, & the basic underlying principles are wrong. Yayyyy.

This exercise means 1) I've sat down and reasoned through my own opinion, giving me clarity on why I think what I do and what evidence would change my mind and 2) from now on, when I see someone else make the claim I'm responding to here, I'll know off the bat that they haven't done the same & are starting from a very credulous attitude toward very low-quality research. And I didn't do this by trawling the literature until I found the exact thing I was looking for, but by thinking through the arguments and evaluating a body of literature that is generally explicitly hostile to the kinds of critiques I make & respect.

[acynicalsweetheart]

HIII i love ur writing so much !!! if your requests are open (and if they arent, feel free to delete this ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა) may i request curly x fem reader who’s jimmy’s girlfriend, but like curly is head over heeellss for her?

if thats not your style, no worries! you can delete my request for any reason, but thank you so much if you write this!! >_< 😭💗

hai thanku very much anon ♡… sawry it took forever. this is awful omg i had no idea. what direction i wanted to take this in LOL. but here’s your head over HEELS sorry had to… anyway first non dead dove drabble yay

content warning: 18+, infidelity

“Curly, stooppp!” You draw between giggles, playfully slapping his awfully muscular yet plush arm. The kind of plush that makes you want to bite a chunk out of it. 

“What? I’m not doing anything.” Curly flashes you his blindingly white Hollywood smile, fingers tickling your side for the eleventh time in the past five minutes. 

Jimmy glares at Curly. Then at you. His gaze burns holes into your skull like it’s made of lasers. 

You blow a kiss to the scowling face across the couch. 

Frown deepening further than you’ve ever seen before, Jimmy pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a drink.” 

“Okay, babe,” you speak to Jimmy’s back as he’s leaving the room, returning your attention to Curly to get your revenge by attacking his side for a change. 

His couch squeaks when he squirms away, chuckling and grabbing your wrists. Craning his neck, Curly chimes to the doorway. “Hey, get one for me too!” 

A groan can be heard all the way from the kitchen. 

“Oh,” Curly’s face brightens like he has a revelation, letting go of you to briefly search his pockets to pull out a small velvet box. It looks comically miniature in his hand when he holds it out. “I got this for you.”

“What’s that?” You ask confused and curious, ‘cause it very much looks like he might just propose to you. 

It opens sesame. 

“An anklet.” 

“Oh.” 

Well, thank God. Jimmy would’ve fucking shot Curly if it was a ring. 

“Here, let me…” Curly reaches for your feet, careful in the way he peels off your socks and it’s all oddly romantic. So romantic there’s a slight heartbeat beneath your panties. 

Jimmy would never do that for you and that’s why it’s so wrong. 

“There,” he closes the clasp after a good two minute fumble, adorning your ankle with gold that costs more than your boyfriend’s entire net worth. 

“Oh,” it’s so shiny you can’t help but to blink at it, “wow. You… could’ve just gotten me a bracelet or something, Curly, I mean—“

“I could’ve,” his gentle up-and-down caresses to your calves pause, quickly adding, “but who would’ve gotten you this?”

You both know the answer to that question. 

“It’s not that I—“ 

“Hey, next time, I’ll get you that bracelet.” He pulls out his phone, squinting at the screen as his fingers move. 

“It’s fine, Curly,” you tell him—not wanting to seem ungrateful, “this is more than enough.”

But he’s already typing in his credit card information on the Tiffany & Co website when you look over his shoulder. 

What are you supposed to do? Smack the phone out of his hold? It feels… nice to be appreciated. Jimmy’s never bought you anything—you’re the one buying shit for him. Including his black market drugs. 

“Jim’s not coming,” you note after a long moment of awkward silence, poking your head forward like he’s coming through the doorway any second. 

“I guess not.” Curly says, meeting your eye once you look back at him. 

Almost kind of scary, the tenderness in his gaze. Not like Jimmy’s wolfish one that says he wants to eat you alive. In the cannibal way. 

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Me?” You can’t help but to laugh out loud, it’s so sudden, and Jimmy’s your boyfriend and he doesn’t even think that. “No… no I—“

“You are!” Curly insists, making a motion with his hands towards you. “Doesn’t he tell you that? Doesn’t he…” he pauses again, voice lowering, “show you that?”

“Show me?” 

“Like this,” he leans in closer, like way in-your-personal-bubble type of closer, noses brushing against each other. Curly lifts your chin up like he’s about to do something forbidden. 

You were almost convinced it was a joke till he actually kissed you. 

“Oh!” Lightly pushing on his chest, you stare at him. “Curly, that’s… we can’t.” 

Fisting at Curly’s shirt to pull him closer, you kiss him back. Harder. 

“Stop it,” like you’re not the one sucking on his tongue, tracing the bulge in his pants with your toes. “He’ll kill us!” It’s a half-whisper, half-yell. 

“Nah, I know Jim.” Says Curly, who more than well knows that Jimmy would have both of your heads on each respective stick to then keep as decorations in his trailer, “trust me.”

“Well…” but Jimmy doesn’t seem to be coming back anytime soon—you know him well enough to assume that he’s most likely sulking by now. “Okay then.”

And so you let him lay you down on his couch the way Jimmy did your first time with him. Only Curly is a thousand times more gentle in comparison. You’re a bad person for thinking it, but you almost wish Curly was your first. 

You’re still desperately kissing when his hands trail up your thighs, creeping under the hem of your dress to pull down your panties. Curly gets them about halfway down when you hear the unthinkable and the unmistakable. 

The cock of a gun. 

Jimmy’s holding this pesky little revolver that he probably found in his mom’s bedside drawer—the same one she blew her brains out with—pointing it at Curly and you with an expression resembling a wild animal more than a human face. 

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Hello. I realize this might be overly personal for this blog but I was wondering if you had any advice for my situation. I'm trying to get back into creative hobbies like drawing and writing and while I made some progress with drawing I've really struggled with writing. It's been about ten years. I struggled with my mental health a lot when I was younger and essentially let my depression/anxiety and ADHD destroy all my creative ability. Logically I know the answer is to just write and write badly, but I'm preemptively disappointed and upset that what I write will be. Well. Shit. Or that I'll never improve. Or that I have no idea what to write. And when I do have an idea what to write it's all just gone from my head the second I sit down to write. So. Er. I guess I'm wondering if you have any advice or resources for people like me? Thank you :)

When you're juggling various different Back-Stabbing Brain issues, various pieces of writing advice - getting up at 5pm, forcing yourself to do it, etc - just doesn't work. For me, it's been a struggle to figure out even in optimal situations, so you're not alone. For me, the following is what worked.

Figure out your peak writing time.

Unfortunately, in our capitalist hellscape, you may not be able to use that time to your advantage. My peak time is from 2pm-5pm, right in the middle of work and fades right when I get home. Not ideal. But I can use that knowledge to take advantage of that time on my free days, and I can strategically time my breaks to do some writing. Or just write while pretending to work. Not that I would ever confess to doing that.

Taking the time to figure out when your brain is most willing to work with you is also very helpful. My brain will not work for writing after 8pm. It can, however, still do the dishes. Forcing myself to put off chores so that I can write is super hard thanks to my ADHD (which hates chores until I need to do something else), but I can combat that by making goal lists, scheduling my writing time (with set alarms on my phone!) helps me manage that.

Change location.

I can't get a lot of work done at home. I've tried. I've moved my desk around, I've locked down my internet browsers when writing, I have ignored the way my cat stares holes into my back to try to write. My brain, though, knows that the bed is right over there, we've got that pile of books to read, and oh hey, Tasting History has a new video. Also my cat wants to steal my computer chair and then get constant pets while in said chair because she is a princess baby. It's a losing battle.

What does work for me? Dragging my work to the library. Finding a cafe with enough space and quiet music to get some stuff done. Breaking out a foldable desk on the porch so that there is a closeable barrier between me and my distractions (the cats hate this option).

Changing location is something that works for me. If you have limited options, build barriers between yourself and distractions. Pile stuff on the bed so that it's not easy to give in and lie down for "just a minute." Close doors. Bribe your cats (or your kids). Use a standing desk - shifting your position can help lock down some of the ansty need to be doing something (my chair-stealing cat is more than happy to help with this).

I know of one writer who only gets work done by locking herself in her bathroom, because it's just enough change of scene to get her thoughts to settle. I know another writer who can only get editing done sitting in his parked car. However wacky, trying different scenarios to get something to work can really help.

Find the right tools.

The only way I can draft is by hand. It sucks and I have carpal tunnel, but my brain cannot type words into a blank screen. I need a pile of messy papers that no one else can read to work from.

I'm also very particular about what I write with. I use Uni Power Tank pens from Japan (because they're the only damn pen I've found that doesn't smear my left-handed writing), and I cycle through different types of paper I exclusively work with. Right now it's Five Star Reinforced Filler Paper with the triangle holes, not the round ones.

I don't know why this works, it just does. I've changed up what I've used over time, but as long as I'm consistent and not trying to write a chapter using differently-sized paper (insert scream here), I can get it done. Test out different tools and find what fits for you.

Organization isn't helping? Embrace chaos.

Jeff VanderMeer wrote an entire series on post-it notes, napkins, and on the backs of old bills. I wouldn't recommend that, but if a little chaos gets the job done, then do it. Spread a story across several half-filled notebooks. Map dialogue using only flashcards. Instead of waiting to sit down to get work done, scribble away while on a bus or on the move (safely, of course). Use a speech-to-text app to talk out your writing. Sometimes the more tactile you can make writing, the more you can break up those barriers keeping you from writing.

Try out different things! You'll eventually find what works for you

[rauspberries]

purple lace bra. [ hear what you like and none of the rest! ] ׂ╰┈➤ a lawyer!aaron hotchner x paralegal!reader fic. ׂ╰┈➤ so close to what series masterlist. paralegal!reader masterlist. ׂ╰┈➤ next chapter.

summary: tired of being underestimated and pushed aside because of your gender, you rant to your boss about it. needless to say, he won't let it happen again. tags/warnings: afab reader, no use of y/n and no physical description of reader, protective aaron hotchner, mentions of gross men and misogyny in the workplace word count: 2k notes: first fic of the 'so close to what' series!!! i'm so excited to write all of this. its going to get sooooo mouth-watering. hey @reidswrld

“Hey, sweetheart, did you get those files on the Watson case? I’m trying to get the case done before lunch so I can head out.” As the prosecutor talks, he hangs the entire upper half of his body into your office, a shit-eating grin on his face as he lets his eyes study you in a way that has you squirming in your seat.

You were used to the pet names. It had been a common habit among the majority of the prosecutors in the district attorney’s office to refer to you as anything but your actual name, laying it on thick with nicknames such as sweetheart, honey, and doll, no matter how much you gently reminded them that they could just call you by your name. Unfortunately for you, their words could be brushed off as simple kindness, making it not officially an HR problem.

Also, as a woman in a male-dominated workplace, it was to be expected. Every other female student in your law classes had to work twice as hard as their male counterparts to get noticed by male professors or to prove that their opinions are worth hearing. And god forbid they wore a skirt that was just a little bit shorter than right above the knee. You couldn’t count on your two hands the amount of times you had seen one of your peers staring at the singular undone button at the top of your blouse while you were attempting to argue your side of a mock trial.

Pasting on a smile, you raise your head to glance at the prosecutor, grabbing a file off of the corner of your desk and holding it out. “Right here. Although, I did have a note, if you’d like to hear it.” You bite the inside of your cheek after speaking, already knowing the reaction you’d get. Men didn’t like to be proven wrong.

A scoff comes from the man as he steps a bit more into your office, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure, why not? Always willing to try new things.” No, he’s not. He’s had the same thing for lunch the past week. Your smile wavers for just a moment, however you manage to keep going strong. “I dug a little deeper into the finances of the defendant’s family. He was taking out the same large sum of money from his bank account every month, usually around the same day. It might be worth following.”

He pretends to contemplate it before laughing, arms unfolding to grab the file out of your hand. “Well, sweetheart, I’m a lawyer, not an accountant. If I wanted to dig into money, I would’ve become a banker. But thanks for the file.” He raises the folder in his hand as a goodbye, still chuckling beneath his breath as he turns and walks out of your office.

As soon as he’s gone, your friendly smile drops, replaced with a scowl. Irritation prickled at your skin like fire ants, causing you to take a deep inhale through your nose and a slow exhale through your lips. Yeah. You were over it.

In a flash, you’re out of your seat, grabbing a stack of papers off of your desk and exiting your office. It takes you not even two minutes to get down the hall, turning into Aaron’s office with a knock on the doorframe.

“All of the evidence, witness statements and backgrounds you’ve asked from me. Also, Hallbrook stared my boobs for a record of forty-seven seconds this morning and Lawson thinks I am an idiot that grew on the dumbest tree in the forest.” The words are spilling out of your mouth so fast that you have to take a breath afterwards, flopping down in the chair across from his desk ungracefully right after you’ve laid everything right in front of him.

Aaron doesn’t respond for a moment, glancing up at you through his eyelashes as the crease in his brow slowly grows deeper. Slowly, he rises to sit up straight, grabbing the stack you had left and setting it to the side. “Good morning. Can you say that again, but slower this time, so I can understand you?” The corner of his lip twitches in amusement, hands folding together in front of him.

His amusement just causes you to roll your eyes, crossing your leg over your knee to show some decorum as you huff like a petulant child. “Do you think I’m good at my job, sir?” You question, realizing that spilling out every act of sexual harrassment towards you probably wasn’t the best approach.

“You know I do.” The mirth fades from his face, replaced with genuine concern. “Did someone make you feel like you aren’t good at your job?” There’s a tenseness to his voice, a tautness to his shoulders, that immediately makes you want to crawl into your skin and hide there. You feel like you’ve tattled to the principal.

Aware of your rigid posture, you let your shoulders relax. “It’s not that big of a deal, I’m used to it by now,” you mumble, feeling oddly sheepish underneath his stern gaze.

Aaron stands up from his chair, dropping the pen in his hand onto the desk as he makes his way around it. Once he’s standing next to you, he leans his back against it, looking down at you. “Used to what? Explain.” It’s an instruction, not an ask. You’ve opened this can of worms and now it’s time to lie in it.

“The comments that brush me off. The staring at any piece of skin I leave uncovered. The using me as a personal assistant rather than a paralegal.” Despite the uncomfortableness of being so close to him, his gaze picking apart everything about you, you find yourself explaining everything to him. You blamed it on the effect his dark eyes have on you. The way he looked at you had always been different than how everyone else looked at you. It dug into your skin, peeled you apart layer by layer, revealed your deepest secrets before they even came out of your mouth.

After recounting what had happened that morning with Lawson, he is silent for a moment. You can practically hear your heartbeat as you look at him, wondering if he’d tell you to just suck it up and move on or storm out of his office to start a riot. Then, he speaks, his tone still calm. “Let me know the next time any of it happens. I want to know about any inappropriate glances, any brush-off comments. I’ll handle it.” Then, he’s sitting up, moving back around to his chair. “Go have yourself some lunch and then come see me. I have a few things for you to handle.”

His dismissive tone has you standing up, nodding. “Yes, sir.” Without another word, you scurry out of his office, ready to cool your head over some trashy food from a fast-food joint.

By the time your stomach is full and you’ve inhaled some only-metaphorically-fresh Virginia air, you’re feeling a ton better. You chalk up your former irritation to just being hangry, your posture straightened and your clothes not as ruffled as before. Nothing could get in your way, could stop you from kicking ass at any task thrown at you for the rest of your too-long shift. 

Until one of the interns stops you with a hand on your bicep, immediately flashing you a bright smile. From what you remember, his name is Theo. That’s the only thing you know about him, other than the fact that he was an intern from one of the law schools nearby. You only knew that because you were extremely well-versed in everything happening in the office, in each level of the hierarchy. Aaron was constantly amazed at all of the gossip you provided him without him asking. 

“Hey! You’re a paralegal, right?” He asks, the smile on his face blinding. He looks nice enough, mussy curled hair falling onto his forehead, soft and gentle eyes. If you hadn’t realized your affinity for older men, you’d think of him as handsome.

You nod, tucking the files in your hand to your chest as you subtly push off the hand on your bicep with a shrug of your shoulders. “Yeah. Can I help you with something?” You keep your tone light and polite, even when Theo ruins his good vibes by his gaze averting temporarily to your chest. The pretty ones are always the grossest.

His charming smile doesn’t falter as his eyes move back to glance at yours. “You can, actually, if it’s not too much of a bother.” You don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re too busy, enough things stacked on your plate, so you urge him to continue with a raise of your brow. “Wooledge, you know him?” Of course you do. You know everything. “He asked me to dredge up some old case files for precedent of a case of ours. I heard you’re good at finding everything quicker than anyone and he also asked me for what feels like eight million things.” 

Theo finishes his statement with laying his hand on your shoulder again, thumb brushing against your collarbone. If his hand were someone else’s, it’d be a reassuring touch. But right now, it’s just uncomfortable, extremely infuriating.

Your own smile twitches, threatening to fall. You don’t have time to do someone else’s work, much less something they applied to do. A district attorney intern’s job was solely this. Look into law stuff, gather law stuff, assist prosecutors. It was to prepare them to become a lawyer. You’d kill to be here as an intern, not a paralegal, one step closer to being an actual lawyer.

Luckily, you don’t have to answer him, because a deep voice behind you does it for you. “She will not be doing your work. If your workload is too much, you aren’t fit to become a lawyer and you should quit your internship now.” You can feel him over your shoulder, leering at Theo from behind you, even without glancing up at him. Instead, you let your gaze avert to the ground, cheeks rushing with heat at both embarrassment and the closeness of him.

“And if I catch your eyes looking down one more time, I will personally walk you to HR and ensure you aren’t allowed to any law firm or district attorney’s office in this country.” Aaron’s voice turns more hostile the more he speaks, his nice shoes scuffing the ground as his shoulder presses up against yours. “Now, get your hand off of her and go find those cases. I’ll let Wooledge know he can expect them within the hour.”

Bless his heart, Theo looks frightened, staring up at Aaron with wide eyes. He then glances down at his hand, like he had forgotten it was on your shoulder, pulling it back like it had been set on fire and shoving it in his pocket. Clearing his throat, he dips his head. “Sir.” Then, he turns around, walking away as quick as he can while trying his hardest not to look like he had just been told off.

After he’s gone and around the corner, a hand gently encloses over your hip, a ghost of a touch but very much there, very much turning your brain to static. “You okay?” He keeps his volume low, a murmur in your ear as his focus burns into the side of your head.

Slowly, you turn to face him, his fingers falling off of you at the movement. “Yeah, fine. Could’ve handled that myself.”

Smug bastard he is, his lips quirk up in a smirk, dark eyes glimmering in amusement. “No, you couldn’t. You were gonna tell him yes.” Then, he reaches up, his finger twirling to trap a strand of hair around it before giving it a soft tug. “Plus, you shouldn’t have to. You don’t have to prove your strength. I already know how strong you are.” 

Letting go of your hair, he doesn’t give you time to recover from your slight shock, his hand patting at your hip for a brief second. The touch is so quick that you barely have time to realize it happened before he’s walking away, calling over his shoulder. “Come on. Your lunch break’s over. Cases won’t close themselves.”

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess – Part 6

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: You and Chishiya get trapped in a closed space together, both of you getting strange flashbacks.

Warnings: Claustrophobia, panic attack.

A/N: I didn't plan to write this so fast but i just blacked out when i started writing it.

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

Niragi's friend, Jae-sung, gave you a place to stay for a while until you'd find your own place. It was rather small apartment, but you and Niragi got the room which belonged to Jae-sung's roommate, who apparently would be visiting his in-laws in Korea for three weeks. Or something like that. You and Niragi would have about two weeks to find another place to stay the night.

The room had one single bed, so you slept on it and Niragi would have a mattress on the floor, being the usual gentleman he always was (not). You didn't personally know Jae-sung, but by the first impression you got from him, he seemed nice enough. Not anything like Niragi atleast, but what did you know.

For the first few days you didn't do much else than rest and go for a walk. You met up with couple of your friends, who luckily had been out of Tokyo that significant day. You didn't keep regular contact with them anymore, all of you having your own lives, but hey had immediately reached out to you when they heard you had been one of the victims.

Your boss had given you two weeks to rest and recover, which was more than you were prepared to have. You worked an office job as a graphic designer so you could have easily started the job sooner since you weren't physically restricted to work which was mostly sitting around. But your boss didn't want to take chances on your wounds suddenly getting worse in the middle of a work day. You knew you'd get bored after a few more days, since your social life was overall extremely dry as well.

You had decided to go to the grocery store nearby, craving for something sweet. Cookies, ice cream, chocolate – probably all of them.

You arrived back inside the building, carrying a bag full of groceries with you. You decided to walk up the stairs, your eyes on the screen of your phone, typing a text to your friend. You would have taken the elevator, but it was all the way up on the 9th floor so you'd rather walk up, getting a little exercise too.

But you didn't manage to reach the stairs at all when you crashed on someone's chest, stumbling back but managed to keep your balance. Although, the crash made you drop the bag on the floor by your feet, spilling some of the items out, making you curse under your breath.

You looked up and saw a familiar face in front of you. Well, not exactly familiar, but a face which you'd seen before not long ago.

"We should stop crashing on each other like this," the guy suggested, slight smirk on his face. The same guy who was at the hospital and fell on you the first time you met him.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, and kneeled down on the floor, bare knee touching the cold ground. You started collecting the packages back into the plastic bag.

"Well, i happen to live here," he answered and lowered himself to your level to help you gather the items. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Might be because i haven't been here more than a few days by far. It's just for couple of weeks," you said, making eye contact with him as you stood back up. A small smile appeared on your lips, though you weren't sure if he noticed it. "Don't worry, then i'll be out of your way."

"Your home got destroyed, huh?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, a genuine apologetic look on his face. You didn't want strangers to be sorry for you, but now you kind of appreciated that, surprisingly.

"Thanks," you said quietly and started to leave, walking past him back towards the stairs, like your original intention had been. "Well, i'll be seeing you then, i suppose."

"See you." He was watching after you for a moment, until he spotted something on the floor by his feet. "Hey, Y/N?" the guy shouted after you, making you turn around.

You furrowed your eyebrows as he approached you again.

"You, um, dropped this," he said and handed you a cookie, but you didn't immediately grab it.

"How do you know my name?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

He fell silent for a moment, not knowing the answer himself. It had come out of his mouth so naturally he didn't know what to respond. Like he had always known it without needing to ask about it. It had only appeared in his mind just by looking at you.

"Uh, i probably overheard it when you were talking with your brother," he figured out. "Not that i meant to eavesdrop." Maybe he had overheard it but just forgot when it happened? He had always had a good short-term memory and would certainly remember where he had learned your name. Especially since he hadn't known you long at all.

But he didn't remember the reason. No matter how hard he tried to think, he couldn't grasp why he knew it.

"Hm, i guess," you mumbled, feeling suspicious. He was still handing you the cracker.

Stuff these into your pockets, your voice said when you grabbed the cracker into your hand from his hold.

"What?" he asked.

"What what?" you asked.

"What did you say?"

"Um, i didn't say anything," you denied.

He went silent for a moment, just looking at you in your eyes.

"You're a strange man, you know that?"

"So i've heard," he smiled. "I'm Chishiya, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Chishiya," you smiled.

Your smile made his heart flutter and twist his stomach in knots.

You were gone before he could say anything else. Chishiya didn't know how long he kept standing there after you had left, but it took him a while to get himself together and continue his way back to his apartment.

♤♡♧◇

Two days later, you had gone to a library to read for couple of hours, not wanting to stay in Jae-sung's small apartment the entire day. You had visited this library once in a while when you were younger, but hadn't been here in a long time, not after you moved further away from here. Now, you had taken a comfortable position on a couch which was usually taken but was now available to sit.

After a while, someone approached you. You looked up, your heart starting to beat faster when he looked at you.

"Y/N?" the man asked, furrowing his eyebrows but then his eyes brightening. "Hi, how are you doing?"

Your throat felt dry when your one-night hookup was looking down at you.

"Um, fine," you mumbled.

"May i sit?" he asked, pointing the spot next to you on the couch. You only stared at him for a while, until slightly nodded. "What have you been up to?"

"You lied to me," you said quietly, not able to start doing any small talk with him. You weren't going to cause a scene in a damn library but you weren't going to pretend acting friendly either.

"Lied about what?" he asked, genuinely confused. He had seemed to be in a good mood before he approached you, but now it started to fade when he saw the unwelcoming look on your face.

"That we slept together," you gritted between your teeth.

"Um, i already told you," he said. "Nothing happened. For real."

"Okay, so how am i pregnant then?" you spat, anger starting to boil inside you.

His eyes widened. "You're pregnant?"

You crossed your arms against your chest, leaning back against the couch. "Yes, thanks to you."

"I swear, Y/N, we didn't do anything after you told me to stop," he insisted, starting to panic. "I remember it well enough to know that we did stop. After you passed out i simply went to the shower and then fell asleep next to you, okay?"

You eyed him for a moment. He seemed genuine, truly meaning every word, but you weren't buying it. Just because there was simply no other way how you could have become pregnant. If you weren't bearing a child inside you, you might have actually believed him.

"I swear through my mother's grave, hand on my heart, that i did nothing to you. I'd say it directly in front of God," he promised, starting to be desperate, seeing the look on your face – both hurt and angry. He could tell that you weren't so sure to trust him. "Can't you take, like, a paternity test or something if you don't believe me? It's not mine, i promise."

God, how much you wanted to believe him. He looked so serious and genuine it was hard to blame him on things you didn't even remember.

The moments you remembered with him, he had been gentle with you and asked for final permission on everything. When you had said 'no', he had let you go.

"Please," he pleaded. "I did nothing to you. I don't sleep with unconscious women, no matter how wasted i am."

You shut your eyes and held your forehead. How could you believe him when there had been literally nobody else than him?

"I, i came to talk to you now because you forgot a few things in my apartment that day," he said. "I thought i could meet up with you later so i could return them. You just never left your number so i couldn't reach you."

You did forget some of your things in his place but had just accepted the fact that you'd never see them again.

"You can keep them."

"We don't need to hang out, i can just-"

"Keep them, okay?" you insisted and got up from the couch, leaving him to sit by himself without another word.

♤♡♧◇

On your way home, you tried your best to calm down your racing heart and keep your breath steady, but it was turning out to become challenging. You wouldn't be about to cry in public. All you wanted to do now was scream, but you couldn't do that either at a bus stop.

You had promised Niragi to be back at the apartment in about 15 minutes because he wanted to introduce you to his friends and be social, since all you did right now was mostly staying by yourself.

The elevator in this building was ancient and looked like it could break any time soon. The sound of the floor creaking under your feet with every step didn't make you feel very safe either. Still, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button to the 6th floor, not having the energy to walk all the way up there.

The door started to slowly close until someone's foot stopped it and opened the door again, letting the person to the elevator as well. You locked eyes with Chishiya.

"You're literally stalking me," you stated as he came to stand next to you. It wasn't a big elevator at all, it was made to fit to exactly four people. Three if you wanted to move a little and not only stand with your arms touching each other, not able to take a step to any direction without stepping on someone's foot.

"We live in the same building," he pointed out.

"And yet i haven't bumped into any other neighbor except you and someone's grandma. You now twice," you said back.

"I suppose we have similar daily routines," he responded.

"Mhm," you said, lifting your left eyebrow and turning away from him.

He was going to the 7th floor, only one floor above you. You didn't speak anything, just stood next to each other in silence, an inch between your shoulders. You felt awkward, but didn't care to start even more awkward small-talk.

You were on the 4th floor, when suddenly the elevator stopped, so hard as if it had hit a wall, making you almost lose your balance.

"What the hell?" you mumbled. The doors didn't open and you assumed you were between two floors. Anyway not able to get out.

You suffered from claustrophobia and being trapped in a small space with no way to get out was one of your worst fears. You had never been a fan of elevators, but you had gotten used to them, as long as you didn't have to stay in one for a long time.

You started breathing more rapidly, feeling like the air was running out and you were going to suffocate. The elevator started shrinking, the walls coming closer to you. Chishiya looked at you, worried look on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked softly.

You didn't answer, you were too caught up in the panic attack that was about to start. Your hands were shaking and you just really, really needed to get out of this elevator, starting to hyperventilate. You felt pain on your chest, pressing your trembling hand against your racing heart.

He put his hands on your shoulders, turning you towards him. You avoided eye contact with him at first, looking at the wall over his shoulder.

"Hey, hey," Chishiya said, realising what was going on. "Look at me. Y/N, look at me."

You turned your face towards him, allowing yourself to make eye contact with him.

"Take a deep breath in a count of three, okay?"

Your eyes started to water as you looked at him, having a really hard time to take deep breaths and calm down. You tried your hardest, his hands gently rubbing your arms. Eventually you were able to calm down.

"That's good," Chishiya smiled. "You did really good."

"Is it weird if i hug you?" you asked quietly, nervous for his rejection or making him uncomfortable. Chishiya contemplated your request a little bit, until gently wrapped your arms around you, massaging your back with his hand.

Another person's presence and touch always, or most times, managed to calm you down properly. You heard his steady heart beat.

Was there someone else? Or was i... was i your only one?

You pulled away from him, furrowing your eyebrows when you looked at him in his eyes. "What do you mean someone else? We're alone here."

"I didn't say anything about someone else," Chishiya mumbled, furrowing his brows too.

"Yes you did, i heard you," you insisted.

You were always really embarrassed when someone saw you have a panic attack and you could feel your cheeks burning up this time as well, now that you had properly recovered from it and realized the entire situation.

"We've been trapped in this elevator for barely ten minutes and you already start to hallucinate," Chishiya stated. He sounded serious, but the small smile on his lips gave it away, wanting to cheer you up and lighten your mood.

"Shut up," you mumbled and hit his shoulder, his words making you a little amused as well.

"I'm going to make a call to get this thing fixed and us out of here. You okay now?" he asked and after you nodded, he took his phone from his pocket and dialed the correct number.

You were afraid of getting another panic attack if you had to be here for a long time, you didn't want to go through that again in such a short time. At least i'm not alone here, you thought. Right now, you were more than glad that he had put his foot between the door and stepped inside with you, even though it had been awkward at first.

"Alright, they said they'll be here as soon as possible, but it might take a while to get this running again," Chishiya explained turning to look back at you.''

"Amazing," you huffed.

"Hey, it could be worse," he pointed out.

"Mhm, and how exactly?" you asked, crossing your arms against your chest.

"Well, you could be stuck with one old man from the 2nd floor, who doesn't shut up about facts about toilets and bicycles," he answered.

"Toilets and bicycles?" you huffed.

"Yup. So, be glad it's me and not an even stranger man than me."

You looked at him for a moment, until you narrowed your eyes, looking again directly at him. "You sabotaged this thing, didn't you?" You widened your eyes and pointed a finger at him. "I knew you had been flirting with me at the hospital!"

"Hey, even if i wanted to get to know you better i wouldn't go to the length of trapping you in a small space with me," he swore, one hand on his heart and the other up in the air.

"Mhm," you hummed, crossing your arms. Then, you pouted a little, pretending to be upset and tilted your head. "So, you don't want to get to know me better? At all?"

You were incredibly close to each other, a few inches between your bodies.

"Well," he said slowly, glancing at the ceiling for a moment to avoid your intense gaze. "I didn't say that."

"But you implied it."

"You're putting words into my mouth," he stated when he had locked eyes with you again.

He wasn't matching your 'i'm just joking' vibe at all right now.

You eyed him up and down, starting to grin. "You're kind of cute, you know that?"

"Cute?" he repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yup," you confirmed and bit your lip. "Nobody told you that before?"

"Hm, not that i recall." You smiled wider when you noticed his cheeks turn slightly pink.

"So, you figured out already where you know me?" you asked.

He narrowed his eyes. "You admit that we've met?"

"No," you said. "Other strangers just haven't thought before we might know each other – without considering it flirting."

"Well, i haven't found an answer to that yet," he admitted.

"Hm. Well, let me know when you do."

Your phone let a sound of a new text message, making you take your phone from your pocket. You were feeling hot and pulled your sleeves up to your elbows as you took the phone in your hand.

Assface: are you still out? we're running out of beer

When you had exposed half of your arms, the tattoo on your arm was revealed – two knives crossed with each other, surrounded by roses and couple of skulls. It picked Chishiya's attention, making him analyse it with his eyes.

I didn't find a pen and paper. And i'm bored.

Chishiya looked at your face when he heard those words, your lips not moving at all. Not letting out a single syllable. He could swear that he hadn't imagined those words, spoken by your voice in his head, by himself.

I have a second knife, you know.

You turned your face towards Chishiya when he had fallen quiet, noticing his concentrated stare on your lips.

"What, you want to make out?" you asked with a playful smile, then biting your lip.

You put your phone away and backed him against the wall, standing barely an inch away from him, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"We can play 7 minutes in heaven if you want, now that we have enough time to spare."

Chishiya's face turned red, eyes widening. He swallowed the lump in his throat, stomach feeling funny. His usual calm demeanor shifted completely to something else he had very rarely experienced before. Probably never before. He shook his head a little to get a grip of himself.

"Oh, no, i didn't-"

"I'm just kidding," you giggled, enjoying what kind of effect you managed to have on him. "But it's okay, Chishiya, i know i'm pretty," you grinned and put your finger on his chin. "You can admit it."

"I'm not denying that you're pretty but i wasn't thinking of kissing you," he stated as seriously as he could but even he could tell his voice was trembling a little. "I was just, looking at your tattoo."

"My tattoo is on my arm, not on my lips," you hummed, then started to smile. "So you think i am pretty, hm?"

"Will you shut up about that if i say yes?" he asked, resting his head against the wall.

"Maybe, no promises though," you shrugged. "Well?"

"Fine, you're pretty," he admitted. "Now, end of discussion."

You just smiled, turning into pouting right after. "So, no kissing, hm?"

He couldn't help but glance at your lips but then he cleared his throat. "No kissing."

"Fine," you huffed, acting all disappointed even though you were just teasing him, and backed away from him. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, Chishiya sitting down next to you.

"Can i ask you a serious question?" he asked, the tone of his voice to a lot more serious one, he was back at his normal self. You listened to him now with closer attention. "Do you feel any different after the accident?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Chishiya started, trying to gather his words together to make sense. "I feel like there's a large piece missing inside me, you know?" You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't know if that sounds dumb, but-"

"It's not dumb," you interrupted. "I do feel like that too."

"You do?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows in surprise.

"I mean, kind of yeah," you admitted, hugging your knees against your chest. "I feel weird. Like there's something crucial i don't remember. I can't really explain it. But i've just figured it's due some survivor's guilt and trauma or whatever, i don't know. I'm just trying to leave the entire thing behind."

Chishiya knew, was absolutely sure, that it was something else than simply survivor's guilt.

"Perhaps," he mumbled and looked into his hands on his lap.

You didn't know how much time passed the two of you being trapped in the elevator, but you'd guess it was anything between 30 minutes to one hour.

Suddenly, the elevator started to move again, startling you so badly that you collapsed against Chishiya, grabbing his shirt on an instinct.

He looked at you, hanging on him, until you turned your head towards his gaze, eyes widening.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, letting him go. "I just got really startled."

"It's alright."

Chishiya stood up and took your hand in his, pulling you up from the floor just as the elevator's door opened.

"Well, i guess this is my stop," you announced, suddenly feeling a bit awkward again, just like the moment in the beginning when Chishiya had stepped into this elevator. "See you around, Chishiya."

"See you around, Y/N."

♤♡♧◇

You walked inside the apartment, Niragi and two of his friends sitting at the table, playing cards together and drinking beer. Apparently they had found more beer somewhere after all.

"What took you so long?" Niragi asked, clearly not pleased for having to wait for you so long. "Did you bring more beer?"

"Got stuck inside the elevator," you stated. "So, no. I didn't."

"That shit finally broke?" Jae-sung asked and let out a laugh. "Took long enough."

"Join us, we saved a seat for you," Niragi invited, patting the chair next to him.

"Oh, i think i'll just go to read and-"

"Don't be silly, one game," another guy pleaded, you had never seen him before.

You rolled your eyes and sighed. "Fine, one game."

But one game turned into another and yet another, until it started to get really late. You were having a lot of fun, though, and you managed to win surprisingly often, shocking the guys a little because they had thought of being some sort of masters in card games themselves. Niragi knew you were a challenging opponent though, so he was amused by the reactions of his friends.

You now held the King of Spades card in your hand, looking at the King's cartoon face and felt it staring back at you, a little too intensely. You got a weird twist in your stomach, suddenly feeling sick.

Uncomfortable pressure formed inside your skull, some sort of flashes running inside your mind. The card dropped from your hand as you held your head in your hands, shutting your eyes.

You heard rapid shooting and screaming everywhere around you.

A man in a long black cloak approached you, pointing his gun at you, but someone pulled you out of the way of gunfire.

Swimming in a lake, being held against someone's bare chest but not seeing the person's face. An explosion somewhere in the distance.

Finally, Chishiya's face looking at you with worried eyes, a tear falling down his face and blood on his cheek. Saying something to you but you didn't hear what.

Every flash didn't last longer than one or two seconds, feeling like they were splitting your brain in half.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, Niragi looking at you with a worried expression on his face. You jumped on your seat, him scaring the crap out of you.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" Niragi asked.

"My, my head just hurts," you muttered and stood up. "Migraine. I think i'll go to lie down." You were already walking away until turned around one more time and gave the guys a smile. "It was nice to play with all of you though."

You went to the spare room and sat on the bed, hands grabbing the edge of the bed.

What the hell was that?

♤♡♧◇

Chishiya fell asleep fast that night, faster than usual, even though his mind wasn't even closely free from all the storming thoughts about you and everything going on in his life right now.

He saw a dream which felt too real and familiar to be only a dream. He felt like there had been more to the dream, and he remembered only a small part of it.

He saw your face. You were standing in front of him. With a smile on your face, you pulled him into a kiss, hands on his cheeks.

You pulled back after a while, still holding his cheeks as you looked into his eyes, challenging look in them. "I've never done it in a lake, though."

Chishiya woke up, for a moment trying to comprehend where he was after opening his eyes, then fully realizing he had only dreamed the entire thing. You weren't there holding his face. You weren't there kissing his lips. You weren't there at all, your touch had been only his own imagination.

Had the moment between you two in the elevator really affected him that much? Surely not. No, definitely not.

His heart fluttered and for some reason, he had liked it. The idea of you being close to him.

He wanted to slap himself on the cheek which held a ghost of your touch, just to get this feeling spat out of him. Touch which hadn't been there at all in the first place.

He didn't know you. You were strangers to each other who simply went through the same trauma. He had never felt like this about a woman who he only knew by a name. He knew nothing else about you besides getting injured when the meteorite hit Tokyo.

He could tell you were beautiful and would get any man on their knees by your feet, he wasn't going to deny that.

Was this some sort of "love at first sight" moment he was experiencing? Definitely not. He didn't believe in love at first sight, no. It had to be something else.

Chishiya groaned, absolutely frustrated, and wasn't able to sleep anymore.

♤♡♧◇

A/N: Hope i didn't forget to tag anyone <3 The next part won't be posted this fast lmao don't get used to this.

Taglist:

@audiiix

@valexqpt

@spencersoneball

@queenofviolenceandnerds

@moonchild323232

@lizxoxeth

@crazzzyyyy

@kimsrie

[gingerteafairy]

i want to thank @marchsfreakshow for encouraging me to post it. this is insanely long, had to be divided into other chapters, this is the first one. hope you guys like it because i loved to write this fic. sorry for the mistakes here. english is not my first language. special thanks for @ikkyfics!!

THE GREAT GUIDE FOR JAILBIRDS IN LOVE

warren lipka x fem!reader

summary: tough times shows up after prision. His only alternative? Working miles away from home. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

tags n warnings: postprison!warren, singlemom!reader, language, age gap (late 20s/early 30s), suggestive, complicated family scenario. word count: 13k

Rule #1: Make a Good Impression

Warren was cornered. Spending time in prison wasn’t as tough as what came after: having to rebuild his life from scratch, with that stupid criminal record hanging around his neck like a weight. There was no place for him anywhere, not even at street corner markets selling stolen cigarettes. He felt useless. He’d been turned down even for a job at a sleazy motel, where not even the criminal underworld seemed to want him anymore. Rent was overdue, and his last meal of the month was expired cereal from a month ago and a warm bottle of beer, which he was still deciding whether or not to drink to numb the pain a little.

He had almost given up on looking for more opportunities. Maybe selling art on the beach, like Spencer, or getting rid of all the junk in his place until he was left with just a bed and a fridge. Because, honestly, even a wood-burning stove could come in handy these days.

What was there to do now? The answer was simple: absolutely nothing. Just shrink. He slouched on the couch, legs stretched out, eyes glued to his phone screen, as if it were his last lifeline. The internet bill was the only thing he had managed to keep up with. Funny. He could be broke and starving, but funny videos were a relief. Reality, no matter how harsh, could wait. He mindlessly scrolled through the feed, as if in some way postponing the inevitable, until a message flashed on the screen, snapping him out of his stupor.

Spencer:

Hey man. My buddy’s market is hiring. Cashier. Male. $1,720. Fuel help. Only requirement is knowing how to count change. No small talk. Just show up today at 3 PM.

It was impossible not to feel an immediate sense of relief, like life had suddenly given him a second chance. This had to be some kind of miracle. But of course, there was a catch. It was already 2 PM, and the market was on the other side of the city. So, what did he do? Like an automatic reflex, he glanced at the dirty mirror on the wall. He needed a shower, at least.

He grabbed his phone again without thinking twice. Before stepping into the bathroom, he sent Spencer a message.

Warren:

Thanks, man. I know this could be my last shot before I fade into invisibility.

Spencer:

I know things are tough. Good luck. I know you’ll nail it.

With that, Warren rushed into the shower, doing the bare minimum to look like someone who hadn’t completely lost himself. He thought about his clothes. His first option was what was left of the most “decent” outfit— the T-shirt and jeans he’d worn the day of the robbery. “Great, perfect impression, Warren Lipka,” he muttered, staring at himself in the mirror. The shirt was wrinkled, and the jeans had a hole in the pocket, but deep down, he didn’t care anymore. Ironing? Maybe another day. If he had to go, he might as well go in style. A style that was wrinkled, but still, style.

He checked the GPS and entered the address. The drive would be long, the kind of trip that makes you see parts of the city you only know by name. It felt like a tour, but of a place you didn’t want to know. The city stretched out, as if it couldn’t quite handle its own misery. Finally, he reached a run-down market and parked in a secluded corner. The name of the place was almost faded, but he could still make it out: Last Chance Market.

“Last Chance? What a joke,” he muttered to himself, laughing quietly as he stepped out of the car. He locked the door quickly, not wasting time. What kind of neighborhood was this? You never know when a bigger problem might pop up, something worse than a simple job interview.

He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, but a strange wave of nervousness hit him. It was just another job, he told himself. Just another one, a way to get things moving, even a little. If he was lucky, maybe he'd even come out with some dignity. If he was unlucky... well, he was used to that.

The one thing he knew for sure was that, somehow, life wouldn’t wait for him to figure things out. He had to try. Even if it was at a place called Last Chance.

He pushed open the door, hearing the little bell ring, announcing his entrance. The place was so quiet that the sound seemed to echo in the emptiness. As Warren had expected, no one was in sight. He let out a low, almost scornful laugh, twirling his car keys in his fingers before slipping them into his pocket. "This place looks like it’s been forgotten," he thought, feeling an odd sense of discomfort, but he knew there was no choice but to press on.

“Is anyone here?” he shouted, hoping no one would answer. That way, he could just turn around and leave this bizarre place behind, a bad judgment call.

The silence lingered for a few seconds, but no answer came. With nothing else to do, he shrugged and began walking through the narrow aisles. Hands in his pockets, Warren scanned the area, his eyes sharp, looking for any sign of a security camera. No security in this place? Typical. He gave a crooked smile, and as he passed a shelf, he grabbed a chocolate bar and slipped it into his pocket with a quick, almost natural motion.

"Why are you stealing?" The sudden, sharp voice of a child cut through the air, making Warren jump back, knocking the candy off the shelf. They fell to the floor with a small clatter, creating an absurd scene. "Shit, that scared the hell out of me."

"Jesus, kid. Where did you..." He muttered, instinctively raising his fist, as if it were an automatic reaction, but quickly lowering it when he saw the child. It was just a little boy, there was no way he could hit someone that young. "I wasn’t stealing, man. I was just saving it to pay later."

"Luke, who are you talking to?" Her voice came in soft but firm. Warren turned, his eyes widening, and there you were: so beautiful, it almost seemed out of place in this dead-end town. You appeared so suddenly he barely had time to process it.

"Talking to this guy who was..." The little boy began to reply, but you interrupted him with a calm smile.

"Warren Lipka." He quickly introduced himself, extending his hand to you. He wanted to make a good impression, or at least seem less pathetic than he felt. "I’m here for the job interview they said was going on."

You paused for a moment, then let out a short laugh, gentler than he expected. "Oh, you’re Warren, I should’ve guessed." You shook his hand politely, with a confidence he couldn’t even pretend to have. Then, with a motherly gesture, you turned back to the boy, who was still staring curiously at Warren.

You bent down and kissed the boy on the top of his head, the gesture so natural, like it was something you did every day. Afterward, you turned and started walking toward a door behind the cashier. "Come on, or are you going to steal another chocolate?" You asked, your voice laced with light teasing. Warren almost wanted to bury himself right then and there, embarrassed for being caught.

"How..." He began to ask, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Hidden camera," you explained, flashing a mischievous smile. You watched as he began scanning the room with his eyes, trying to piece together what had just happened. "I’ll show you later. Now come on."

With one last glance around the place, Warren, still confused and wearing an awkward smile, followed you to the door.

The room revealed was simple, with white walls and a large shelf on one side covered in folders and a few books—most of them children’s books, others Warren couldn’t identify, but from the titles, he could tell they were probably boring. You gestured for him to sit, and then took a seat across the desk. Warren distractedly looked at the small photo on the desk: the little boy outside, smiling beside you in a park filled with trees. Their smiles, so natural, reflected a moment of happiness.

"You two look alike." Warren started the conversation, pointing at the photo with one hand while the other fiddled in his pocket.

"They say he has my eyes. But I think it’s the hair, maybe the shape of the face." You smiled softly, stretching your neck to look at the photo more closely, the movement light and effortless.

"Maybe it’s the eyes. They really do look like yours." Warren said, shaking his head with a somewhat awkward smile. "You’re a really great older sister."

You let out a soft laugh, masking a smile that slipped out for just a moment. "Thanks, but Luke’s my son."

Warren froze, his jaw dropping at the revelation. He widened his eyes, unable to believe it, then quickly disguised his shock, putting his hands to his mouth like he was trying to wipe the look of disbelief off his face. "Now it all makes sense," he murmured, unaware of how visibly stunned he was.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ve never seen a sibling so affectionate. I used to fight with mine all the time." Warren laughed, still in disbelief, furrowing his brow casually as if trying to make the moment less awkward.

"Really? I had Luke when I was really young, 18 years old to be exact." You added, your hands folding on the table, your expression now more serious, as if you were sharing a piece of your story.

"Damn. God, I’m sorry. Shit, I feel like such an idiot now." Warren muttered, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

"It’s fine. You don’t need to get nervous." You quickly reassured him, your voice calm and soothing. You leaned forward slightly, as if trying to show empathy for him in that moment.

"And I even called you beautiful. Shit, I’m really not cut out for this." Warren placed his hands on his head, leaning on the table with a heavy sigh. He lifted his eyes to you, his gaze now loaded with guilt. "You think your husband would kill me if he knew?"

"Maybe he would, if I had one." You joked, tilting your head lightly in a playful way, trying to ease the tension in the air. Warren noticed a slight sadness in your voice that didn’t go unnoticed, but for some reason, he decided not to bring it up.

You sighed, straightening your posture and sitting up straighter as if shifting the conversation. "Alright. You’re hired."

"What? Already? What about the interview..." He paused, scratching his head, visibly surprised at how quickly the decision had been made.

"You were hired the moment you walked through that door." You laughed softly, stretching in your chair casually. "Not many people make it out here."

"No wonder. A dump like this..." He scoffed, mocking the place, but his eyes widened when he realized what he’d just said. "Oh my god. Again. Shit, I just say the dumbest stuff. Sorry."

"Don’t worry about it. It really is a dump." You laughed, getting up and walking around the table with light steps. Out of nowhere, you surprised him with a quick, almost warm hug that left Warren feeling momentarily disoriented. "Welcome, Warren."

"Thanks. I won’t let you down." He said, offering a weak smile, but mentally cursing himself for noticing how good you smelled as you pulled away. The feeling of being an idiot didn’t leave his chest.

Warren opened the door for you, and you gave him a gentle smile, your eyes sparkling with a kind of genuine warmth. He followed right behind you, closing the door with a soft click, breathing deeply as he watched you walk through the market, seemingly immersed in something only you knew. He wondered if it was something related to the boy’s father or if you were just worried about something missing from the shelves.

"Did you pay for the chocolate?" Little Luke inquired, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"How old are you, kid?" Warren questioned, furrowing his brow, briefly glancing at you before returning his gaze to the boy.

"Seven. But I’m almost eight. In nine months and thirteen days." Luke declared proudly, crossing his arms like an adult.

"Weird kid." Warren thought to himself, silently laughing at the little one with big, curious eyes. Something about him seemed strangely familiar. So he pulled a dollar bill out of his pocket and handed it to the boy. Maybe it was a desire to please you or to apologize to the kid. "Here. It’s for the chocolate."

"It’s $2.35. You’re short $1.35." Luke blinked, extending his hand toward him.

"Oh, kid. Just take the dollar and be quiet, alright? I’m struggling here." Warren hissed at the boy, but instead of crying, the little one just smiled.

"You’re weird. I like you." He chuckled, a funny, purely childlike melody echoing through the small space of the market.

Something warmed in Warren’s chest as he watched that toothless smile. The thought of being a dedicated father flooded his mind, creating false scenarios of an idealized life – a family smiling, him hugging his wife, holding his son in his arms, walking him to school, giving him a dog, teaching him how to shoot. Damn, he’d do anything to be the best dad for Luke, and it wouldn’t even be just because he wanted to win over the beautiful mom from the market. That was the one thing missing from his life, maybe that’s why he was born.

"If you start today, I can give you a tip." Your voice, breaking the idealized moment, brought Warren back to reality. He was an ex-convict, semi-in-love with a single mom, and still trying to figure out if any of this even made sense.

"You don’t have to. I can help." He tried to hide the silly smile that was about to appear, taking the uniform you handed him.

"I insist. The salary’s not great, and you’re practically the only employee here." You remarked, with that radiant smile Warren had already memorized. The sincerity in your tone was palpable.

"No, seriously. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be a pleasure working with you." He stated without thinking, quickly clearing his throat with a small gesture. "Working with you. You get it."

"Yes. Thanks. I owe you one." You waved your hand, heading back to the room with Luke happily trailing behind you, both walking away while Warren stood there, eyes fixed, his heart still beating harder than usual.

"Alright… time to work." Warren stretched lazily, raising his arms above his head before shuffling toward the employee bathroom.

The space was small and functional, a far cry from the public restroom, which for some reason, was absurdly large and had a strange smell that didn’t leave, even with air freshener. He grabbed the uniform you had given him—a yellow shirt with the store’s name printed on the front. Since there were no pants in the package, he decided his own would do the trick.

When he came out of the bathroom, he closed the door with a quiet click and, with a swift motion, tied his hair in a tiny ponytail. He walked to the register, where you were already standing with a notebook in hand. The moment you heard his footsteps, you looked up.

"Looks good on you." Your tone was kind as you pointed to the shirt identical to yours. He hadn’t even noticed when you had changed—maybe it was when you went into the back room.

"Now we match, look." The voice emerged from behind him. Luke appeared beside him, wearing the same uniform, which, even in the smallest size, was still too big for his tiny frame.

"Yeah, kid. Now we’re coworkers. A real man." Warren smiled and lowered his hand for a high five with the boy, who tried to slap it with all his might.

"Wow. You’re strong. You gonna tell me you’ve been training secretly?"

"I train. I watch fight videos on YouTube." Luke replied proudly, striking a boxing guard pose.

"Luke, we’ve talked about this." Your voice came with a warning tone as you approached.

"Ah, mom. I don’t watch blood. Only sometimes." He pouted indignantly, and you tilted your head before pinching his nose with two fingers.

"Ow, mom!"

"Didn’t see that coming, huh?" Warren chuckled without thinking, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment longer than necessary. In the brief silence that followed, something in his expression made his heart skip a beat. Warren Lipka didn’t seem like the dangerous criminal from the TV—just a guy with a big heart and an intensity that even he didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah... we have a routine.” You cleared your throat, shaking off the unnecessarily sweet thoughts and handing the sheet over to him. “Monday is deep cleaning day, Saturday we count the stock. I’m here at 8 AM every day, except Thursday, when I pick up Luke from his grandparents’ house and drop him off at school. I get here at 10 AM that day. The rest is pretty easy, not much movement. Here, take this to memorize.”

“Got it.” Warren took the notebook, noticing how detailed your notes were.

“Today is Wednesday. You’ll be in the deli section.”

“Just checking expiration dates?”

“Yep. Luke usually helps me, but today he has homework.”

“Can I stay with Warren first?” Luke inquired, his eyes shining with expectation.

You gave an indulgent smile before raising an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t fight with your classmates at school tomorrow?”

“I promise.” He nodded firmly and raised his pinky. “But only tomorrow.”

Warren let out a low chuckle, and you gave him a playful disapproving look.

“Don’t encourage him.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He laughed even harder, covering his mouth with his hand. “Let’s go, Luke. Let’s see if this meat is still good. Did you know that a lot of good meat gets thrown away here in the US? I used to collect it.”

“Seriously?” Luke’s eyes widened as he walked alongside him to the refrigerators.

“Yeah. I’d go to markets like this one and take the ones that were still good.” Warren opened the fridge and started checking the labels. Then he paused, blinking as if realizing too late what he’d just said. “…But don’t do that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He tried to hold back his laughter but failed miserably. “Hey, what do you think of this one?” He picked up a steak package and held it up for Luke to see.

“I think it’s still good to freeze. It’s got 10 days left.”

“A deal, then. 50% off this stuff that’s about to expire.” Warren shrugged, smiling and tossing the package back into the freezer.

…

Warren paced restlessly back and forth in their usual café, his hands moving nervously, his nails gnawed down to the quick, until a small piece of nail polish chipped off. He could feel a tightness in his chest, as if he were about to burst. His body swayed back and forth, his gaze locked on the clock on the wall, the anxiety consuming him. The weight of the conversation he was about to have was crushing his mind. When he finally saw Spencer walk through the door, the relief was instant, but it didn’t ease his nerves. His snack, the one he’d ordered earlier, lay forgotten on the table, untouched. He didn’t even notice it was still there.

Spencer greeted a few people in the café with a disinterested wave before walking over to the table. He sat down, casually tossing his backpack into the chair beside him, and extended his hand to shake Warren's.

“I want to be a stepdad.” Warren blurted out, not wasting a moment, before Spencer had a chance to say anything. The words came out fast, clinging to his chest like gum, almost as if the pressure had reached a point where it could no longer be ignored.

"Hey, how’s it going, Spencer? How’s work? Good. Thanks." Spencer mocked, rolling his eyes at Warren’s approach. He leaned back in his chair, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "We haven’t talked in two weeks, and that’s the first thing out of your mouth?"

Warren didn’t care about the teasing. His mind was already fixated on what he had to say. "It’s been two weeks since I met my son." He slammed his hand on the table with conviction, the slap of his palm echoing in the otherwise quiet café. The tension in his body was palpable now, his shoulders tight. He quickly ran a hand through his disheveled hair and pulled a nicotine lozenge from his pocket, placing it in his mouth almost mechanically.

"Since when are you quitting smoking?" Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow, an almost amused smile tugging at his lips as he reached out to grab one of the lozenges and popped it into his own mouth.

"Since I realized innocent people suffer from the crap smokers exhale," Warren replied in a serious tone, biting down harder on the snack, the crunch almost matching the stress he was feeling. "I saw it in the paper."

Spencer frowned, skeptical, but chose not to comment. Instead, he flagged down the waitress to put in an order. The conversation was starting to take a curious turn, and he didn’t want to miss his chance to figure out what was really going on with his friend. The café bell rang, and suddenly, Eric appeared at the door, casually waving to the crowd before heading straight to the table.

"Hey, guys." Eric greeted, throwing himself into a chair and locking eyes with Warren.

"Warren wants to be a stepdad." Spencer said, his tone bored, hiding a smirk of irony, and Warren smiled broadly, relieved to finally say it out loud. It was a mix of nervousness and excitement he couldn’t quite suppress.

"Dude, that’s a bad idea." Eric shook his head, disapproval written all over his face. He leaned forward slightly, as if preparing to explain himself seriously. "Those things never work out. Once you get attached to the mom, she’s never gonna let you go. You’ll regret it."

"That’s sexist, Eric." Warren hissed, grabbing Spencer’s coffee cup and taking a sip without caring that it was someone else’s drink. He knew he was breaking the unspoken rules of the café, but he needed something—anything—to relieve the pressure building inside. "And what’s wrong with her getting attached? I like her."

"When’s her birthday?" Eric shot back, his voice relentless, eyes narrowing as if he were conducting an interrogation.

"I don’t know." Warren replied quickly, but a hint of doubt crept in.

"And the kid’s?" Eric pressed, staring at Warren, waiting for a response.

"Wait, I remember, he told me..." Warren trailed off, trying to recall the details.

"What’s her favorite color, and why is it blue?" Eric fired again, a mocking edge in his tone.

"That’s not the point!" Warren snapped, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his frustration growing. "I don’t know, man. It’s the way she looks at me. Her and that weird kid. The little pest knows everything, he rattles off stuff I don’t even know. He answered 37 + 53 like it was nothing."

"90." Eric responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That doesn't count, you're a robot." Warren muttered, shaking the snack bag with frustration as he glared at Spencer. He noticed the bag was almost empty. "No, seriously. The kid’s really smart. I know he’s not mine and everything. But I’d make an effort. He has the same nose as me."

"Alright, you're stretching it a bit now." Spencer warned, his voice taking on a serious tone as he finished his coffee with a sigh, setting the empty cup on the table. "What about the job?"

"Tiring. I lift boxes, stack them, store everything. I do almost everything. She helps with cleaning and sometimes takes the register when I'm organizing the fridges. The kid helps her with the change. Everyone who passes by loves him."

"Hmmm. Sounds good." Eric shrugged as the waitress approached with a new order, and he gave a distracted thumbs-up.

"What made you change your mind?" Spencer asked, his curiosity piqued as he looked at Warren with more intensity, his eyebrows raised in genuine interest.

"She’s a hard worker. Women like that are strong. She’s probably fought hard to get this far." Eric spoke with an almost knowing conviction, his tone calm but determined. "Just don’t screw it up, Warren."

"Now it’s my fault?" Warren defended himself, shaking his head in frustration as he stood up from the table, stepping back slightly while slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Where are you going?" Spencer looked up, concern now evident on his face.

"Home. I need to get some sleep for work tomorrow. See you guys." Warren replied quickly, his movements hurried, shoulders tight as he turned to leave. The tension still hung in the air, but he needed a moment alone to process everything.

Rule #2: (Try) Not to Stick Your Nose in Other People’s Business.

Warren woke up earlier than usual that morning. He felt surprisingly energized, a rare occurrence, so he made sure to take a proper shower before heading out for work. He knew that today was one of those days you tended to be late, so he planned to take care of everything until you arrived.

As he parked the car in front of the shop, his eyes immediately found you sitting on the doorstep, shoulders slumped, hands pressing against your head. Something was off. His chest tightened at the sight. You looked... desperate.

His brows furrowed slightly, and Warren stepped out of the car, walking toward you with measured steps, trying not to invade your space too abruptly.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice was low, cautious, as if afraid of startling you.

You quickly lifted your face, eyes misty, and your chest rose and fell unevenly, betraying the anxiety trapped in your breathing.

"It’s Luke..." Your voice cracked, and you stood up, your hands nervously twisting in front of your chest. "My car broke down, I can't pick him up from his grandparents’ house, and it's almost time for school. He’s going to miss class, and his teacher already said he’s struggling. My brother isn’t answering, no taxis are coming, and..."

With every word, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You didn’t even notice your hands trembling until Warren gently interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

"Hey, hey." His voice was firm but kind, and without thinking much, he pulled you into an embrace.

The warmth of his body surrounded you, and the sudden gesture made your walls crumble for just a second. The woody scent of his cologne mixed with the softness of his jacket fabric made you realize how tense you were. Your heart, which had been pounding against your ribs, began to slow down.

"Sorry. I thought you needed this," he murmured close to your ear.

You exhaled the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and pulled back slightly, but without fully breaking the closeness.

"I did. Thank you." Your voice was steadier now, though there was still a lingering edge of panic. You quickly wiped your face with your hands, trying to erase the traces of tears. "Sorry for unloading all this on you, I’m just... desperate."

Warren tilted his head slightly, watching you closely, as if he were analyzing every layer of your nervousness before speaking.

"Where’s his grandparents’ house?" His voice was resolute, like he had already made up his mind.

You blinked a few times, confused by the sudden question.

"What?"

He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, taking a deep breath before repeating himself.

"Where’s Luke’s address? I’ll go pick him up."

You froze for a moment, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. Your instincts told you to refuse — he was just your employee, he didn’t need to get involved. But the desperation pressing down on you was heavier than the pride that wanted to hold you back.

"You’d do that?"

The smile that appeared on Warren’s lips was small, but genuine, his dimples barely visible as he grinned. His eyes lingered on them for a moment before you realized you were smiling too, even if shyly.

"Why wouldn’t I?" He raised an eyebrow, as though genuinely finding your hesitation puzzling.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Your chest warmed in a strange way.

"Come on. Let’s go." He gestured toward the car.

"And the shop?"

"Ah, no one comes here at this time anyway." He chuckled, as if the place was his to command. And for a moment, you found yourself wishing it was.

Warren walked around the car and opened the passenger door, waiting patiently for you to get in before closing it carefully with a swift motion. He settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

The silence stretched for a few seconds. You were still tense, biting your lower lip, trying to hold onto the last threads of control. Warren noticed and, without saying a word, turned on the radio. A loud rock song blasted through the speakers.

"Shit." He muttered, quickly lowering the volume and switching stations.

The sensual melody of Careless Whisper filled the car.

"Goddamn radio." He grumbled again, spinning the dial hastily. This time, soft instrumental music filled the air. "Better," he said, leaning back into his seat and relaxing.

You chuckled quietly. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"For this." You gestured vaguely at the radio and at him. Warren cast a quick glance in your direction before returning his focus to the road.

"Do you like the job?" You asked, trying to ease the weight of the moment, your fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the seat.

"Yeah, actually, I’m pretty attached to it. I think it was my last chance to be a decent citizen." He said with a playful smile, his eyes momentarily glancing at you before turning back to the road.

You tilted your head slightly, studying his profile for a beat, the soft tension in the air palpable.

"Do you like it just for that?" Your question came out more curious than you’d intended, a little more pointed than you planned.

Warren gripped the steering wheel with one hand, using the other to run through his hair, the hint of a mysterious smile curling at the corners of his lips.

"There are other reasons too."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly turned your gaze to the window, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. You weren't sure why, but the way he said it unsettled you, the weight of his words hanging in the air.

"What about you? Do you like your job?"

You let out a soft, nasal laugh, tilting your head back slightly. "Being the manager of a run-down market wasn’t exactly my childhood dream."

Warren chuckled through his nose, shaking his head in amusement. "How’d you end up there?"

Your smile faltered slightly, and you took a deep breath before answering.

"Well... I got pregnant with Luke."

The atmosphere in the car shifted subtly. Warren fell silent for a moment, as if processing the weight of your words, his hands firm on the wheel, eyes focused ahead.

"Do you regret it?" He asked quietly, his voice softer now, laced with genuine concern.

"In the beginning, it was hard. I didn’t have much support, just graduated high school. College seemed impossible." You glanced down at your hands resting on your lap, fingers twisting nervously. Warren nodded slowly, never looking away from the road. "But then he was born, and... everything changed. It was like my whole life suddenly had a new meaning."

Warren smiled, his thoughts clearly drifting to Luke. And as he did, he realized something interesting: his smile was almost identical to the boy's. That same genuine sparkle in his eyes, a light untouched by time, despite all the struggles life had thrown their way. Without thinking, Warren’s own smile softened, mirroring the one he had just seen.

"Can I ask you about his dad, or would that be too intrusive?" Warren’s voice was gentle now, eyes fixed on you, the concern clear in his gaze.

"No... no, it’s not intrusive." You shook your head, a quiet sigh escaping your lips. "Luke's dad is complicated. He was a great father in the first few months, but then he started saying that Luke was getting in the way of his career."

"What a jerk." Warren spat without thinking, his jaw tightening in indignation. He frowned, immediately realizing his own boldness. "Sorry."

"No... jerk is too mild a word." You shot back, your tone still sharp, but softened by the vulnerability that lingered beneath it. Warren relaxed his shoulders, relieved that he hadn’t crossed a line. "When he said that, I couldn’t take it anymore and ended it. Since then, it’s just been me and Luke. I ended up raising him alone with the help of my parents. Luke doesn’t even know who he is. I prefer it that way. If he asks about him in the future, I’ll tell him, but not now. I’m still angry about it, though."

Warren nodded slowly, processing your words, his expression softening with understanding. For a moment, the only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the distant rumble of tires on the road.

Finally, Warren let out a small, knowing smile, his gaze gentle.

"I may not know much about you guys, but Luke is a really cool kid." Warren’s voice held a genuine tone of admiration. "Not many seven-year-olds can count the days until their own birthday."

"You really think so?" Your eyes lit up at the question, and a soft smile crept onto your lips, the warmth spreading across your face.

"Of course. The kid’s a little terrifying sometimes, I’ll admit." Warren teased, making you laugh out loud. "Seriously, I get freaked out when he starts doing mental math."

"He’s the best in his class at math." You said, the pride evident in your voice.

Warren rolled his eyes dramatically, his expression playful. "Of course he is. That kid’s going places. He’s going to be the next Einstein, and they’ll write books about him. Mark my words."

You laughed again, and Warren held onto that sound, savoring it, like it was a melody he didn’t want to forget. The sound was infectious, and his chest swelled with an unfamiliar warmth.

"He sounds like my brother. He was always super smart, too. Top of his class, just like Luke. He’s the one who owns the market and helped me get this job. That’s how I ended up there."

"So it’s in the genes."

"Maybe." You fell quiet for a moment, absentmindedly running your fingers through your hair, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. Your thoughts drifted as you absentmindedly added, "Does he have a girlfriend?"

The question came out casually, but it hung in the air with an unexpected weight, more serious than you’d intended.

"Me?" Warren raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. He let out a surprised laugh, his face lit up with disbelief. When you nodded, he shook his head, still laughing. "That’s a good one."

"Why?" You chuckled, leaning slightly towards him. "What’s wrong with that? You’re good-looking, charming, funny. There must be someone."

Warren snorted, resting his elbow against the car window, the air suddenly a little heavier. "Oh, yeah, sure, women love a former convict who can’t even afford a Coke." His voice had a mocking tone, but there was something beneath the sarcasm—a hint of self-deprecation that made your chest tighten with empathy.

"No... no one." He answered quietly, his gaze now fixed on the road ahead. "What about you?"

"No…" Your response came out almost hesitantly, and for a brief moment, a flicker of hope danced in your mind before you pushed it aside.

The conversation fell into a heavy silence, the kind that lingered like a thick fog between you. You could feel the change in the air, the tension that wasn’t quite palpable but couldn’t be ignored either. You silently thanked the universe that you were close to your destination. As Warren parked the car, you quickly unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out, eager to escape the weight of your own thoughts before they dragged you deeper into uncertainty.

You hurried up to the door, your hand moving quickly to press the doorbell without hesitation. Warren followed closely behind, stopping a step back, his body still tense, his eyes scanning the surroundings as if ready for something unexpected.

The door swung open.

And then, your blood ran cold.

"Daniel?" Your voice came out as a strained rasp, barely a whisper, your face draining of color instantly.

The man standing there, with his captivating green eyes and a charming smile, widened the door to let you in. "I was really hoping to talk to you. Come on in."

He then looked at Warren, sizing him up with a quick, calculating glance before extending his hand. "Hey, man. How’s it going? I'm Daniel Beavers, but you can call me Dan."

Warren held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, his jaw tightening, before he shook Daniel's hand with deliberate firmness. "Warren." His voice was cold, the warmth and ease from earlier gone completely.

Daniel laughed, a little too loudly. "Damn, you’re strong." He gave Warren a friendly slap on the back, but Warren didn’t flinch, keeping his expression neutral, only offering a polite smile before stepping inside.

Once out of Daniel’s line of sight, Warren leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, his breath brushing your ear. "Who’s that guy?"

You swallowed hard, keeping your gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before your voice barely escaped your lips, a whisper heavy with discomfort. "Luke’s father."

Warren went silent for a beat, his body stiffening as though the weight of your words had struck him physically. His chest tightened, and his next words came out as a low, almost inaudible murmur. "Shit."

Without thinking, his body straightened, as if some primal instinct had taken over. His shoulders subtly broadened, and he instinctively positioned himself a bit closer to you, as if shielding you from whatever lay ahead. The gesture was so natural, so automatic, it was almost like he was becoming a human barrier.

He didn’t have the right to interfere.

But something inside him screamed that he should.

“Hi, mom!”

Luke’s cheerful voice shattered the tense silence in the room. The little boy appeared, his backpack already slung over his shoulders, running to hug you before turning to Warren with a bright, wide smile.

"Warren!" he exclaimed, launching himself into Warren’s legs for a tight hug.

"Hey, little man. Hope I didn’t take too long." Warren grinned, gently messing up Luke’s hair.

Luke pulled away, furrowing his brow. "What happened? I thought you weren’t gonna come."

"The car broke down, buddy. Warren’s gonna take you to school." You explained, maintaining a smile, though out of the corner of your eye, you couldn’t ignore the way Daniel was watching the scene, his gaze quiet and calculating.

"Cool!" Luke cheered, raising his hand for a high-five with Warren. "Can I sit in the front?"

"Not this time, kiddo." Warren pretended to sound disappointed, crouching down to meet his eyes with a playful expression. "But next time, I promise."

"Okay." Luke whispered, clapping his hands excitedly.

You glanced around the room, feeling the house unusually quiet. "Where are your grandparents?"

"They went to the market. They’re planning a party for Daniel. For some celebration." Luke answered innocently, not noticing the way your shoulders tensed at the mention of Daniel’s name.

You inhaled deeply, trying to keep your composure. "Alright, let’s go. Luke’s gonna be late. It was nice seeing you, Daniel." The falseness of your smile was clear, but it was a necessary mask.

"Wait." Daniel stepped closer, pulling a shiny gold envelope with navy blue details from his pocket. He extended it toward you, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I didn’t even tell you the big news."

Your stomach churned before you even looked at the contents.

"Daniel and Honey?" Your voice came out low, almost incredulous.

"I’m inviting you to my wedding." He announced as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You can bring Warren too. It’d be great to have you both with us. Honey really wants to meet you."

Daniel then pulled out a smaller piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Warren, who hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking it.

You laughed—not out of happiness, but out of pure disgust. "Yeah, Daniel. You really outdo yourself every day." You stuffed the invitation into your pocket without a second thought.

"It’ll be great to have you there." He softened his voice, his hand making an almost theatrical gesture as it brushed your arm. "Please, sweetheart…"

The silence was thick, suffocating.

Warren watched the scene unfold like a predator studying its prey. His jaw was clenched tight, and his fists were subtly balled at his sides, barely contained by the tension in his body. Something inside him had already pegged Daniel as a fool, but seeing this whole act up close... that was too much. His protective instincts kicked in.

He couldn’t hold back any longer.

"Dude, what’s up with this? Don’t you think this is a little weird?" Warren broke the silence, his voice a low growl that drew every eye in the room to him. His tone came out rougher than he intended, but at that moment, he didn’t care to hide his feelings.

Daniel blinked, genuinely confused by Warren’s reaction. "Weird? Why would it be weird?"

That question only fueled the fire inside Warren.

"Don’t you realize how completely bizarre it is to invite your ex to your wedding without even giving a heads-up? You abandoned this kid, and now you show up years later like everything’s fine?" Warren narrowed his eyes, his muscles visibly tensing as his posture became more aggressive, as if he was ready to jump at any moment.

Daniel let out a nervous laugh, trying to downplay the situation with a dismissive gesture. "Relax, man. I just thought… I don’t know. We’d be good friends. Didn’t know she was already seeing someone again." He shrugged, giving you and Warren a mischievous look, as if he was enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

The statement caught Warren off guard for a moment, making his eyes narrow even further, but he quickly recovered, his expression hardening. "Yeah. Exactly." He reaffirmed without hesitation, crossing his arms firmly. "And even if she wasn’t, you can’t just keep popping in and out of people’s lives like it’s a game. Look at yourself. How old are you?"

Daniel was slightly thrown off, the first crack in his confidence showing in his hesitation. "Twenty-seven."

Warren let out a dry laugh, almost sarcastically. "Twenty-seven." He repeated, savoring the irony of the situation. Then, he stepped forward, forcing Daniel to retreat until his back hit the wall. The intensity of Warren’s presence was palpable. "Listen, man to man. I’m thirty-one. But I had a grip on things long before that."

The discomfort on Daniel's face was unmistakable. He tried to recover his posture, but Warren wasn’t letting him off the hook.

"Alright, man. No need to get all upset or rude." Daniel hissed, attempting to regain his composure as he pushed lightly against Warren’s chest. Warren instantly lifted a fist, ready for any reaction.

It was only then that he remembered you and Luke were still there, silently observing the scene. Warren took a deep breath, cracked his neck, and relaxed his shoulders before speaking in a more controlled voice, though still firm. "Stay out of our lives again, alright?"

Then, with a sharp smile, he straightened Daniel’s perfectly aligned suit jacket as if he were adjusting a porcelain doll, his touch almost mocking. "Are you a lawyer?"

"Yeah." Daniel replied automatically, quickly wiping where Warren had gripped him, trying to salvage his composure.

"I hate that kind." Warren muttered between his teeth, his gaze hardening, but he quickly turned to you, softening his expression. He gave you a more serene smile, almost affectionate. "Shall we go, babe?"

Your heart skipped a beat at hearing him say “babe.” Not out of fear, but because, in that moment, you realized something different. The way Warren said it felt... right. As though he had claimed a piece of you without even realizing it.

"For sure." You smiled, your eyes softening as you started walking toward the door. But then you stopped, turned around, and walked back to Daniel with steady steps.

Without hurrying, you took the invitation from your pocket with a smooth motion and extended it to him, without any emotional appeal. "Keep it for someone who actually wants to go. Best wishes!" Your voice was sweet, but the sarcasm beneath it was impossible to ignore. Every word carried a subtle criticism, something you could no longer hide.

Daniel stood there, frozen, holding the invitation as if he had finally realized it was irrelevant to you, his expression draining of any confidence he had left as the reality hit him. He was out of place. And that seemed clear to everyone in the room.

Warren opened the door for you to pass, but before you stepped out, he gave Daniel one last threatening glance. A silent, but clear, warning.

You both walked toward the car, no longer needing to hide the smile on your faces. The tension from the earlier conversation still hung in the air, but somehow, the whole situation seemed to have brought you even closer.

"Alright, all set..." Warren murmured as he buckled Luke's seatbelt in the back seat. "Now, school."

He was already turning to head to the driver's seat when Luke's curious little voice caught you both off guard:

"Are you and mommy dating?"

The silence that followed was instant. You and Warren froze for a second before exchanging a knowing glance.

Warren raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well... I'm a pretty nosy guy," he said, looking directly at you before turning to Luke. "So, I guess we are."

He twisted the key in the ignition, but before pulling away, he cast a quick glance your way. "Is this alright with you? Us... this."

The question came without hesitation, but with a genuine undertone of concern. You held your breath for a moment, feeling the weight of the silent exchange between you two. Then, you smiled. Not just any smile, but one of those effortless, warm, and real smiles.

"Great." You replied, feeling a lightness in your chest.

He studied your face for a second longer than necessary, as if he wanted to lock that expression in his memory. Then, he nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of his lips.

"Great." He repeated, turning his attention back to the road before accelerating, as if the whole world had just fallen back into place.

Rule #3: Your friends aren’t always right.

After school, you drove to the grocery store. The car’s engine hummed softly before going silent as you turned the key in the ignition. The sound of the seatbelt undoing echoed in the silence between you. You opened the door and climbed out, unlocking the passenger door without looking back. Warren stepped out soon after, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets, his gaze scanning the storefront as if something was different, even though everything looked exactly the same.

Inside, the muffled sound of an old radio played some generic music as you made your way to the checkout. Warren, on the other hand, detoured to the warehouse, his steps slower than usual. The smell of dust and cardboard filled his nostrils as he entered. The shelves were crammed, the boxes stacked chaotically, as usual. But Warren didn’t care about any of that. 

He just needed a moment here, alone, to gather his thoughts. 

With a heavy sigh, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it with trembling fingers. His gaze ran over the words written there—how many times had he read them?—but before he could get lost in his own thoughts, the creak of the door opening made him quickly shove the paper back into his pocket.

"Can I come in?" Your voice sounded hesitant, head peeking through the crack in the door. He blinked a few times before forcing a smile. 

"Of course you can. You own the place." He gestured with his hand, a relaxed movement, but his shoulders remained tense. 

You walked in, closing the door behind you, the dry sound of wood echoing through the small space. Your eyes wandered around the warehouse for a second before returning to Warren, who was now swinging his foot on the floor, his right hand still deep in his pocket. 

"I just came to say..." You began, walking slowly towards him. "Thank you for what you did today." 

He let out a short, humorless laugh, looking away from you to the floor. "Oh, that?" His shoulders lifted in a casual gesture. "It was nothing. In fact, I think I was kind of stupid." 

"No." Your answer came out firm, quick, taking him by surprise. You cleared your throat, trying to soften your tone. "It wasn't stupid. It was... it was really good. Really helpful. I lost my mind, I didn't know what to do in that situation. He was such an asshole." 

Warren tilted his head to the side, watching your expression for a moment before asking, "Has he always been like this?" 

You let out a tired sigh, leaning against the wall behind you. "I guess he always has. I just didn't want to notice." 

"That sucks." He muttered, biting the inside of his cheek. After a second of hesitation, he walked over to stand next to you, leaning against the wall as well. "I guess we always have that in life. Not realizing the right person was right there." 

You frowned, lifting your chin with a hint of indignation in your voice. "Why do we do this, huh? All the signs were there. The way he ignored me, how I had to ask him to the school dance..." 

Warren turned his face towards you, blinking slowly. "You asked him to the school dance and not the other way around?" 

"Yeah! Can you believe that?" You huffed, crossing your arms. "He said he forgot! When we were picking out my dress the night before!" 

Warren closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh before muttering, "What an idiot." He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, the fluorescent light above casting soft shadows on his face. With a slow movement, he licked his lips before speaking again. "I would never do that to you."

Your chest tightened, your breath catching for a second. 

"What do you mean by that?" Your voice came out low, almost reluctant.

He pressed his teeth against his cheek, looking away to the floor, as if seeking courage there. When he finally looked back at you, his expression was more serious.

 "I would never treat you like that." His voice was firm, but there was a certain hesitation in his gaze. "I'm not exactly a good guy, you know that. But I’d never leave you hanging like that."

"Really?" You leaned your head against the wall, still looking at him, your fingers tightening the hem of your blouse with an unconscious reflex of nervousness.

Warren nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips, almost as if he was amused by your reaction. You snorted and went back to staring at the ceiling. The silence that followed was almost palpable. Your breathing seemed to echo in the small warehouse, while the dust danced in the air under the yellowish light.

"Oh my God..." The laugh came low, exhaled along with a sigh.

"What?" He frowned, but the corner of his mouth still carried a trace of amusement.

"Now I want to go to Daniel's wedding with you just so he can see that I'm okay." You admitted, covering your face with your hands, feeling the heat rise to your ears. "That's so immature. I'm such an idiot."

Warren let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, come on, I don't care." Without hesitation, he took another step towards you, leaning in slightly as he gently removed your hands from your face. "I still have a password, we can say it's yours and that I'm following."

"No, Warren... That's not right." You protested, but the lightness of laughter was still present in your voice. "I'd be using you and that's so wrong..."

"Do it. I just don't want you to look like that because of that idiot." His voice lowered slightly, seriousness seeping into his tone.

"He doesn't deserve even a second of your emotions, of anything you have to offer. So use me. Do whatever you think is best, because you have a hard enough life to worry about anything else and I'm willing to do anything to help you."

Your heart stumbled in your chest when you felt his warm touch against your wrists. Warren gently lowered them, letting his hands rest on either side of your body. The space between you was decreasing with each passing second without anyone making an effort to break it.

He bit his lower lip, his gaze flickering between your mouth and your eyes. You felt your breath catch at the realization, heat rising in your stomach, in your cheeks. Your own attention followed suit—his lips, then his brown eyes, intense, filled with something unsaid but completely understood. The atmosphere was heavy in a way that seemed impossible to ignore.

Warren's heart hammered against his ribs as he raised one hand, bracing it on the wall beside you. The other still held yours. The space between your bodies slowly disappeared. He leaned toward you, his lashes lowering as your faces came closer, your breath mingling.

Then, the doorbell rang.

The sound cut through the moment like a sharp blade, making you both pull away in an instant. You took a step back, your chest rising and falling with your ragged breaths. Warren ran a hand through his hair, staring at the ceiling as if cursing the universe.

"I better... you know... go outside." He nodded, his voice thick with something that sounded like disappointment.

You nodded, crossing your arms over your body as if that could contain the wave of feelings that were stirring inside you. He hesitated for a moment before leaving, closing the door behind him. But he didn't leave right away—Warren leaned his back against the wood for a few seconds, exhaling slowly, trying to regain control. Only then did he pull away and walk to the cashier.

You stood there for a few more moments, your fingertips brushing your lips, as if trying to feel something that had never happened.

If you had kissed... would it have been wrong? Or was the doorbell a signal not to?

You shook your head, muttering "Stop it" to yourself, trying to push the thought away. But the knot in your chest was still there as you left the warehouse and headed back to the market.

Across the way, Warren was handing over the customer’s groceries with automatic movements, but his mind was elsewhere. When his eyes met yours, for just a second, something flared again—a question, an uncertainty, a regret.

Without saying anything, you looked away and walked into the office, busying yourself with anything that felt like work. You needed to distract yourself, needed to convince yourself that this didn’t mean anything.

The customer left, and Warren stood behind the register, still holding the last bag as if he’d forgotten to let go of it. His mind raced in circles, trying to find a way to talk about what had almost happened. To tell him how he felt without ruining everything.

He walked slowly to the office door and raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. His fingers hovered over the wood for a second before curling into a fist and pulling back.

This didn’t make sense. It wasn’t supposed to happen.

And if it did, he was sure it would ruin everything.

Eric was right. It was better to just give up.

Rule #4: Don't hold back an emotion for too long, it might take over you.

The doorbell rang, and Warren didn't even need to look up to know who it was. The familiar jingle of keychains rattling in his backpack and the sweet smell of grape candies in the air were enough to recognize Luke.

"Hey, little man. How was school today?" Warren beamed, walking around the counter with lazy steps to talk to the boy.

"It was nice." Luke replied excitedly, throwing his backpack on the floor before wrapping Warren in a brief, tight hug. Soon after, he pulled away and stuck his small hand in his pants pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "Look, I made this today."

"Awesome, a frog." Warren took the green origami between his fingers, studying the careful folds. He turned the piece from side to side, smiling. "Where did you learn that?"

"On the internet, look. Come see, it jumps." Luke took it back, placed it on the counter, and pressed it lightly on the paper. The little frog jumped. "See?" 

Warren raised an eyebrow. "Boy, you're scary." He tested the frog, squeezing the paper as Luke had done, and the creature jumped again. "This is witchcraft, isn't it? You put magic in it and didn't tell me, you little brat." 

"No!" Luke laughed, shaking his head. "It's just origami. If you fold the paper the right way, it moves, like a lever." 

"I see..." Warren feigned distrust, crossing his arms. "So it's pure skill and not some dark pact?" 

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Wanna make one?" 

"Tsk, I don't know." Warren leaned back a little, as if it were a risky challenge. "I'm pretty sure I'll ruin it before I even touch the paper." 

"Stop being a wimp." The boy, however, didn't take the refusal lying down. Luke took his hand with determination and pulled him down the hallway to the office. The air grew heavier as Warren walked through the door. 

His eyes met yours for a moment too long. Something unresolved hung in the space between you, and you both looked away almost at the same time, disguising it with silent discomfort.

 It had been a week. 

Seven days since what almost happened in the warehouse. 

Since then, conversations had been limited to short sentences about work, polite words that didn't fill the awkward silence. You spent as much time as possible in the office, while Warren remained at the cash register busy with anything other than talking to you. Always busy. The only close interaction happened when it was time to restock the shelves or when one of you left. And even then, you both avoided looking each other directly in the eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart. How was school today?" You broke the silence first, forcing a smile as Luke let go of Warren's hand and ran over to you.

"It was cool, but Warren and I are really busy right now." He explained excitedly, grabbing two sheets of paper from your desk.

"With what, exactly?" You asked, your gaze falling on Warren more than the boy.

"We're gonna make frogs." Warren answered casually, twirling the sheet between his fingers.

"Frogs?" Your brow furrowed slightly.

"Of paper, Mom." Luke rolled his eyes, as if your question was absurd. "I made one in class and now I'm going to teach Warren how to make one too. Sit here, facing Mom."

Warren hesitated, his eyes meeting yours again, almost as if he was asking for permission. You held his gaze for a second before nodding, pointing to the chair across from you. He sat down, looking guilty, shifting in his chair as Luke stood beside him, full of excitement.

"Here's how it is, follow everything I do or you'll get lost and do it all wrong." The boy began to fold the paper with precision. Warren imitated the movement, frowning in concentration.

"That's it. Now you're going to fold it here... like this."

"Okay..." Warren replicated the fold, narrowing his eyes to check if he was doing it right. "And now?"

"Do it like this, like this. Now fold it like this... Now turn it over. Don't let it get wrinkled, it has to be right. Turn it over again, fold it."

"Easy there, Luke. I'm old." Warren laughed, his hands fumbling to keep up with the boy's agile movements.

Luke snorted, but held back a smile. "You're slow, Warren."

"Hey, that was unnecessary." He made a playfully offended expression.

"Now just this one more and it's done!" Luke showed off his perfectly aligned frog, proud.

"Congratulations, honey!" You clapped your hands, amazed at your son's work. “It looks exactly like a frog. Good job.”

Warren looked at his origami, then at Luke’s. He held up his creation—a crumpled, shapeless ball—and raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, it looks just like mine.” 

Luke laughed loudly. You put your hand over your mouth, trying to hold back your laughter too. “Sorry, Warren. It’s just so funny.” 

“It looks like a frog that got run over!” Luke laughed, placing his hands on his stomach. 

“I know, I know. I should’ve seen that coming. You two are against me.” Warren sighed dramatically, tossing the paper ball aside. “It’s definitely not for me. I’ll leave that to the little man and his super smart mom.” 

But even though he failed miserably at origami, the smile on his face seemed genuine for the first time in a week. 

“You don’t pay attention either, Warren Sillyka!” Luke laughed, sticking his tongue out at Warren. 

“Did you see that?” Warren raised an eyebrow at you, pointing indignantly at the boy. “The kid just gave me tongue!” And without thinking twice, he returned the gesture.

"Hey!" Luke protested, grimacing and pulling the corners of his mouth with his fingers.

"Now, you little criminal..." Warren narrowed his eyes before standing up, his hands ready to attack with tickles.

"No, stop! Stop!" Luke squirmed, laughing as he tried to escape. Warren, however, was faster, grabbing him easily and lifting him in his arms, swinging him from side to side.

"Serious infraction, young man!" Warren mocked, holding Luke tightly. "You have the right to remain silent! Hands where I can see them!"

"Never!" Luke challenged, laughing loudly, clearly enjoying the joke. "I will not give in to you, Sillyka."

"Oh, then let's go again." Warren took a deep breath and threw the boy slightly in the air before catching him again, eliciting more laughter. "What now? I’ll only let you go with an apology!’

You watched them, the scene unfolding before your eyes like something you never imagined you would see. Your son laughing freely, sharing such pure happiness with someone other than you. Warren holding him in his arms felt... right. Like this was where Luke was always supposed to be.

The laughter escaped your lips before you could stop it. And when Warren and Luke looked at you, your laughter turned into something else—louder, looser, more genuine. Your eyes grew teary, but not just from laughter. The emotions inside you bubbled up in a way they didn’t know how to express, that you had kept locked away under lock and key deep in your heart for many, many years.

"No... don't look at me." You tried to contain your laughter, quickly wiping a tear from the corner of your eye. "Keep going..."

"Mommy?" Luke frowned, his joy turning to instant concern.

Warren noticed the same and quickly put the boy down before approaching you. 

"Mommy, are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, blinking a few times to hold back the tears. "Yes, my baby... I am." You smiled, even though your voice shook a little. "I'm just happy." It was true. Partially, at least. "Can you go to the storage room and get me a tissue?"

Luke hesitated, still suspicious, but nodded. "Yeah." And then he left, looking back one last time before disappearing down the hallway.

The moment the door closed, the barrier you were trying to hold collapsed. A sob escaped your throat, followed by an uncontrolled sob. 

"I'm sorry." You buried your face in your hands, unable to stop the wave of emotion.

Warren's heart clenched, and before you knew it, he was kneeling in front of you, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a firm embrace.

He didn't say anything. He just stood there.

Your face buried in his neck, your hands clutching the fabric of his uniform, feeling the heat of his body as you cried without reserve.

“I'm here. Shh..." Warren murmured against your hair, stroking your back in slow circles. "I'm here."

"I'm soaking your clothes…”

"Fuck it. I'll wash them when I get home."

He slid his fingers through your hair, brushing his lips gently against your temple, a silent gesture of comfort. Your breathing began to calm, still shaky, but less suffocating. You sniffed and pulled away slightly, staring at his face so close to yours. The way he looked at you... calm, steady. Like a beacon in the middle of your storm, guiding you back.

"I forget how incredibly perceptive he is." Your voice still cracked. "He always knows when I'm not okay. I can't hide anything from him."

Warren smiled weakly, running his hand over your wet face, brushing away the remnants of your tears with his thumb.

"You don't have to hide it from me either." He said softly, then leaned down, still on his knees, to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Don't hide anything from me." 

The door swung open. 

"Here, Mom! I got it." Luke came running back, holding the box of tissues. "Sorry I took so long. It was really highI had to grab a chair to get up. But I didn't drop anything." 

You let out a shaky laugh, accepting the tissues and opening your arms to him. Luke fit into the hug without hesitation. You looked at Warren over your son's head, his gaze full of gratitude.

 "Well... I guess I'll be going now." Warren mumbled, standing up slowly. 

"Where to?" You asked, grabbing a tissue and blowing your nose. "Leaving already?" 

"To the cashier. It's my turn." He smiled weakly, watching Luke grab another tissue for you. "Take care of your mom, okay?" 

"I'll do it." Luke nodded with the seriousness of someone who takes the mission seriously. He held the trash can for you to dispose of the tissues. "It'll be okay, Mommy." 

You smiled, tightening your arms around your son. "I know it will, my baby. Thank you.

" Warren took slow steps towards the door, almost hesitantly. You watched him go, feeling a tightness in your chest as you watched him walk away. 

"See you later." He paused for a brief second, turning just enough to look you in the eyes. 

"See you..."

…

Warren turned the "Closed" sign on the door, taking one last look at the street before returning to the cash register and writing down the day's records. You always dropped Luke off before five, so you'd be back soon. He wanted to get everything done early to make his job easier.

After reviewing the checklist, he went to his office and left the paper on his desk. When he returned to the cash register, he heard the door open and looked up in time to see you come in. You walked over to him with a small smile on your lips.

"You look happy." He commented, resting his hands on the counter.

"I just found the perfect dress for Daniel's wedding." You said, leaning a little on the counter. 

"When is it?"

"Tomorrow, Saturday."

You walked around the counter, stopping next to him. "Do you have an outfit yet?"

"I have that damn thing I wore on my first day here. Will that fit?" Warren asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and crossing his arms.

"It'll do. It's perfect." You replied, placing your hands on your hips. "I can't wait to show you."

 "The dress?" He raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. "I want to see it too. What color is it? No, wait... Isn't that bad luck?" 

"What?" 

"To know what the woman will wear on her wedding day." He explained, confused. You let out a laugh. 

"No, Warren." He blinked, waiting for the explanation. "That's only for the bride. You can know." 

"Oh... sorry. I've never been to a wedding before." He confessed, relaxing his arms. "Are you excited?" 

"Nervous." You admitted, leaning against the counter. "I don't know how I'm going to react." 

"I'll be there." Warren comforted. "Do I have permission to punch him if he messes up with Luke?" 

"Luke isn't going. It's at night. It starts at eight, but these things always take a while. I don't want him to stay up until the early hours of the morning." 

"So it's just going to be the two of us?" 

The question came with a subtle but noticeable tone of curiosity. 

"Yes." You nodded, feeling an unexpected nervousness grow in your chest. 

"Do you want me to pick you up?" He asked, and there was something else in his voice—a hint of expectation. 

"Yes, it's okay. I was just going to drop Luke off at his friend's house and come back to get ready." 

"Deal. I'll stop by at seven-thirty?" 

"Seven-thirty is fine." You nodded, crossing your arms. He held your gaze for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but he just smiled sideways.

"Shall we go out? It's closing time, and I don't want anyone knocking here." You changed the subject, walking to the door.

"Good idea." Warren grabbed his keys and followed you out, locking the store behind you.

Warren scanned the street, frowning slightly when he noticed one of the streetlights flickering, casting irregular shadows across the sidewalk. The silence of the night seemed to drag on with the cold wind.

"So... is it okay to walk home in this darkness?"

"Yeah, I always walk back after work." You answered matter-of-factly, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

He let out a short sigh, pulling the iron to cover the store window. "This isn't good."

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms as he locked the door. "Since when did walking two streets over become a problem?"

"Since always. Anyone can run into the wrong person." He turned to you, glaring firmly.

"No problem. If anything happens, I'll scream and run." You joked, shrugging.

Warren chuckled and shook his head before approaching. With his hands firmly on his waist, he tilted his face, his eyes assessing you up and down.

“Come on. I’ll take you.” You hesitated for a moment, but ended up nodding and starting to walk. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Going home?” You pointed to the end of the street.

“No. Get in the car.” He patted the hood of the vehicle twice with a half smile.

“It’s only two streets.”

“And I don’t know who’s coming around the corner. Do you know?”

“You’re so worried.”

“Baby, after you go to jail, even your neighbors are suspicious.” He joked, unlocking the doors. “Maybe you have your own criminal record and I’m here all by myself thinking I’m safe and sound.”

You smiled, getting in the car. “And what would my crime be?”

Warren started the engine and pulled out of the space, his eyes narrowing as if he was evaluating the response.

“Murder, for sure. In cold blood, plain daylight.” He teased, turning the steering wheel to enter the avenue. “Maybe poisoning.”

“And why?”

He gave you a quick glance before turning his attention back to the road.

“Because you have this innocent woman look, all pretty, cute eyes who make men fall in love at first sight… the perfect stereotype.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “When I least expect it, I’ll wake up in an ice bath.”

You gave a short laugh and lightly pushed his shoulder. “How awful, Warren. I’d never kill you.”

“I don’t know… what if one day I make you angry?”

He turned onto your street and parked in front of your house. The engine purred softly before being turned off. Silence filled the car.

“Then I don’t know…” you teased, biting your lip as you pretended to think.

Warren chuckled softly and shook his head. “See? That’s what I’m talking about.”

“See you tomorrow.” You said, unbuckling your seatbelt.

But before you could reach for the door handle, you hesitated.

“Warren.”

He turned to face you, leaning in slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was lower, as if he already knew what was coming.

You hesitated for a second, your gaze locked on his lips. Your heart raced as your bodies leaned almost instinctively toward each other. Your hot breath mingled in the small space between you. But at the last moment, you pulled back, looking away.

“Nothing…”

“Fuck, stop saying it’s nothing.” Warren grumbled, letting out a short sigh before unbuckling his belt and cupping your face with his warm hands, pulling you into an unexpected kiss.

The touch was intense, a mix of urgency and pent-up desire. Your fingers tightened the fabric of his jacket, pulling him closer, opening your mouth for more of what you craved so much.

When you pulled away, a mischievous smile played on his lips. You smiled, still feeling his breath against your skin, your mouth damp from the trace of what had happened.

“Thank you.” You mumbled, trying to pull away, but he pulled you back, deepening the kiss without hesitation.

This time, you moaned against his lips and released his belt, seeking more proximity. Warren slid his hand under your shirt, pulling your waist closer and feeling the soft skin against his touch. His other hand went to the back of your neck, his fingers intertwining in your hair as the kiss grew more intense.

Time seemed to have stopped. You turned your body so that he had more access, your hand touching his face, the hairs of his growing beard prickling your skin, brushing against your chin. It stung, but it felt so damn good. When air became a necessity, you pulled away with a silly smile, your eyes shining under the dim light of the streetlamp.

“You’re very welcome.” Warren murmured, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his fingers lightly brushing your skin as if he still didn’t want to let go.

You smiled and looked away, opening the door.

“See you tomorrow, Warren.”

“Why?”

“I’m in front of my house.” You laughed softly.

Before you could leave, he pulled your hand and stole one last kiss.

“Just one more.” He murmured against your lips, sealing them once more. You smiled against his mouth before finally leaving.

Warren waited until you got in and closed the door to start the car. He licked his lips, capturing your trail. He frowned, smelling a strange smell in the air. Looking around, he decided to look at his pants and...

“Shit, Warren. What’s wrong with you?” He groaned in disgust, seeing his own situation. His jeans were darker, damp, soft. “I can’t believe this. One kiss! One kiss! I’m so fucked up. That’s the ending.”

Disgusted, he just decided to go home as soon as possible to resolve the outcome of the little moment between you. Even though he was uncomfortable with the sticky feeling between his legs, the satisfied smile didn’t leave his face.

And it didn’t leave throughout the entire night.

[pepshee]

Jealousy, or Jealous Hee: Second First Dates

⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Pairing - ex!heeseung x fem!reader Genre - smut, a bit of fluff, angst Synopsis - After you hooked up with you ex-boyfriend, Heeseung, who had broken up with you out of the blue you didn't know what would happen afterward. Will you finally get your answer as to why? Word Count - 5.4k Warnings - cursing, mentions of alcohol, a bit of angst towards the end, smut, reader is insecure, mentions of manipulation and peer pressure, heeseung is an asshole in the first half, some cringe (oops), mentions of Jake & other idols, mentions of possessive heeseung, heeseung is desperate and begs for forgiveness, a little fluff, cream pie, fingering, p in v, plot twist-ish?, lmk if I missed anything!! MDNI 18+ A/N: thank you guys for the love on the first part i really appreciate it 😭 i didn't expect ppl to actually like it but im really glad you did! also if you have c.ai, i make bots over there too! my invite code here! also.. please keep in mind this is only my second time ever writing a fanfic so if it's ass in your opinion then idk what to tell you... i hope you do enjoy tho thank you in advance for reading !! <3 (even if you didn't like it)

PART ONE HERE

Waking up in your own dorm after you had hooked up with your ex at a house party last night wasn't what you expected. You thought you'd be next to him, but of course, that was crushed. At least he was a gentleman and brought you home, right? There was one question that lingered in your mind, what happens now? It was disappointing not waking up next to him, but then again, what did you really expect?

You get up out of your bed seeing your roommate's bed is empty, but then the smell of bacon hits you, she must be cooking. After getting dressed you make your way to the kitchen, you are so glad your university was at least prestigious so they had bigger dorms than the average one. You had a raging headache, as expected from the alcohol. "Hey Giselle," your voice a bit scratchy due to having just woken up.

Giselle turns around, you can see the slight concern in her eyes but also a hint of a smirk. "Y/N, you're up," she says softly, however, you still had a ton of questions in your mind. "What happened last night?" You're a bit embarrassed at the fact you had to even ask that question.

"Well.. After we went to the party we all split up and I assume you went to drink alcohol, cause the next thing we knew you were being brought out of the party by Heeseung. You were completely asleep, nothing woke you up," your face heats up a bit at the memory of getting drunk and hooking up with your ex-boyfriend who fucked you over. "Right.. and did he tell you any details about anything..” You hoped that he didn’t because it would be even more embarrassing for your friends to know you had sex with your ex who fucked you over.

Those hopes are immediately crushed by Giselle’s reply, “Y/N you were so drunk you had sex with Heeseung, your fucking ex and you don’t even remember it,” she chuckles at the end of her sentence. 

Damn.. Well, now your friends know you hooked up with your ex-boyfriend.

“It was an accident..” 

“Y/N it’s okay to want him back, but..” she paused for a moment emphasizing the word ‘but.’ “You shouldn’t let him get it so easily,” she continued. 

Then an idea hit you, seduction.

“Giselle holy shit,” she perked up at your words while she plated the breakfast she just finished making for the two of you. 

“What'd you think of girl?”

“I’m gonna post slightly revealing photos of myself on my Instagram story with little subtle jabs at him like he does to me, I’m gonna get back at him by showing him what he made himself lose,” you couldn't stop the grin that formed on your face.

“You mean you’re gonna ‘show him what he’s missing?' Isn’t that super cliché?” she might be right.. But he did it first.

“Well he’s been posting his new girls to make me jealous, so why don’t I try seducing him, and if he messages me I just play hard to get. Like you said, I shouldn’t let him get to me so easily,” you relayed your reasoning for the idea and you see Giselle think for a moment considering your words. “Okay you know what, maybe it is a good idea, after all, he fucked you over,” she almost started grinning. 

After having eaten the breakfast Giselle cooked, you ran to your closet to pull over any sort of revealing clothes you had. You find a slightly-too-small black tank top, and grey shorts. You had originally planned on being comfy today since you were still hungover—you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, but you quickly change into the tank top and the shorts and then did your makeup.

You decided to take a selfie in bed, and so you lay down and grabbed your phone. You swiped right to open your camera, and you positioned it in a way where it would show your cleavage just enough so that it's not obvious.

It took you a bit to get the perfect one, but when you did, you open Instagram and thought of a caption to put.

'i miss you. missing you is hard, but i bet missing me makes you hard'

You knew it was definitely cringe, but it got your point across so you could live with the cringe right?

You'd clicked the 'Add to story' button almost too fast. You and Heeseung don't follow each other anymore but you know he stalks your account. He uses his friend's account to do it without it being suspicious, which you can't blame him because why else would you have Giselle's password if not to stalk your ex-boyfriend cause he stalks you?

After logging into Giselle's account you tapped on Heeseungs story to see what he had posted. You immediately regret your decision because you're met with a photo of him and his friends, with alcohol, snacks, and of course, Heeseung is with a girl. He even had the audacity to put 'this could've been you' god this asshole doesn't know when to stop does he?

He was just being nice to you last night after you hooked up, why does he keep doing this to you? Once again with the taunting...

You were so lucky not to have Saturday classes, it meant you could go anywhere you wanted to. Believe it or not, you were actually majoring in dance, and even though you didn't have to go to classes, you still at least wanted to go to the studio.

────୨ৎ────

Dancing was therapeutic to you, everyone told you not to do it as your major because it wouldn't take you anywhere they said to just leave it a hobby. However, before you even graduated college you had offers from Idol companies trying to scout you. Usually, you would have celebrated that with Heeseung but that obviously wasn't an option.

You had spent a few hours dancing and you were getting really hungry and tired so you sprayed some perfume and reapplied deodorant before grabbing your bag and leaving the studio.

You didn't want to go out to eat so you decided to settle on the on-campus cafeteria which thankfully makes decent food. It was just about lunch time so it was quite packed there. You walked up to one of the counters and looked at the menu, but you still couldn't quite see so you took a couple of steps back until you felt your back hit something... or was it, someone?

The hands that flew to your waist were a clear indicator of who it was without even needing to turn around, it was him.

Too petrified to turn around, you just stand there frozen, not knowing what to do.

"You think you're slick huh? I saw what you posted on Instagram, it's about me, isn't it? In that case, you may be right," It's like your whole body failed to react, it didn't know how to. "I will say, whatever you're trying to do, it's working," he leaned down to whisper that into your ear.

Before you can respond he lets go and walks away, finally turning around to watch him leave. What is his problem?

You ordered your food, which was tteokbokki and kimbap.

Throughout your lunch you keep thinking about what had happened with Heeseung, did he do it on purpose? There's no way he was just coincidentally there right?

Whatever his reasoning was, you didn't care, he was trying to get to you.

When you finished your lunch you didn't know what else to do today so instead you figured you'd at least hang out with your friends so you took out your phone.

────୨ৎ────

It didn't take long for you all to agree on the mall, and you're currently waiting for the others to arrive. You and Giselle had gone together since you're roommates so you were just waiting for Karina, Yujin, and Moka. Minnie wasn't able to make it since she had a test to study for.

A little while longer the other three finally arrived, the five of you walking through the mall and looking through various stores.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to buy more clothes to fuck with Heeseung. The clothes you were buying were either the slightest bit too small, making them tight so they cling to your curves, or showed some sort of skin, some a lot, some just enough that would make him crazy.

You see, one thing about Heeseung is while you two were dating he was such a sweetheart when you two were in public, but as soon as you got home is when his possessive side would show. He'd recount all the times a man looked at you a bit too much or too closely and he'd fuck your brains out.

That was one of your favorite things, how good he'd fuck you when you wore crop tops, skirts, shorts, or tank tops. He didn't control what you'd wear, he let you do whatever, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't wear revealing clothes in public on purpose cause you were horny for him to fuck you at home.

Any other time he was a sweetheart, he was perfect, he wouldn't hurt a fly but when you had sex that all went out the window.

Now, however, you're buying revealing clothes to piss him off, to make him break, to get revenge, to make him beg for mercy.

You felt as if this revenge plan was a bit bland, but you couldn't think of anything else but to just drive him insane.

You and the girls had a lot of fun, and got told to shut up a few times from laughing too loud... but at least you have had fun.

It was 8 PM by the time you and Giselle made it back to the dorms. You made it just in time for curfew so you wouldn't get in trouble. You'd always thought it was stupid for a university to give adults a curfew, but it was pretty influential so you guess the university just didn't want its reputation ruined by their students dropping out to take care of babies.

Curfew didn't do anything anyway, you just couldn't leave your specific dorm building after 8:30 PM, you didn't know what would happen if you did it anyway but you honestly didn't care enough to find out.

────୨ৎ────

That morning when you woke up you immediately thought about what to wear to make Heeseung jealous, to make him mad.

You reached over and grabbed your phone and opened Instagram in order to check Heeseungs story, of course, he has a new one. You tap on it and see a video, clearly taken by a friend of his and it's him, with a new girl—because of course it is who fucking else could it be—the video was Heeseung and his new girl, who you identified as Julie Han. She was in your dance group, and she was really good and she's really pretty. You've always admired her beauty, but also felt a bit insecure. You wanted to be like her so badly. Heeseung didn't know that, or maybe he did considering you two broke up before you even had the chance to meet your classmates.

Seeing this rubbed even more salt into the wound, the girl you'd admired, and wanted to be friends with, and that made you feel insecure. Obviously it wasn't her fault you were insecure, she was super nice to you, and she didn't say anything to make you insecure it was just all in your head.

Seeing the video of him with Julie, he had his arm around her, and they were clearly flirting. It made your blood boil, but at the same time made your eyes water. You didn't know if you should be angry, or if you should cry.

You didn't know if it was on purpose, or if he was just doing his usual girl-to-girl shit. If he did know then he was a complete asshole for using her against you.

The truth is, he did know.

Yesterday, when you were walking to the cafeteria for lunch, you were recording a voice message to send to your friends. You had run into Julie while leaving the studio. That reminded you that you hadn't even told your friends about her so that's why you were recording a voice message.

Heeseung was with you, well not with you, rather.. behind you. He was walking with his friends, and he hadn't even realized it was you until you started speaking. He couldn't stop himself from eavesdropping and when he heard what you said about Julie, he knew exactly what to do.

He wanted you back, desperately, he knew you wouldn't easily accept him back into your life so he decided to try and make you desperate, just as much as he is. He used Julie, he wanted to make you as jealous as possible so you crawl back to him. When he saw your first story with the subtle jab at him and the cleavage he knew you were trying to clap back at him, you were trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. He'd be a liar if he said it wasn't working because it was. He hated that you had posted that, that you were revealing yourself to others. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he needed you back.

After you had seen the story of Julie and Heeseung you knew you had to strike again. You got out of bed and went to your closet grabbing one of the bags of new clothes you'd gotten yesterday. After dumping the clothes on your bed you finally picked out an outfit you knew would rile him up. It was a pair of white shorts, with a dark blue top. The top was pretty much a bralette, it's not something you'd wear out, but you bought it for the purpose of making Heeseung jealous—also in case you decided to go to the bar or another party—you went to your bathroom to do your hair and makeup before taking the photo.

After you finished those you posed in front of your mirror with your phone in hand. You tried doing poses that would show off your ass or would maximize the amount of skin you show in the picture.

Finally, after about 5-10 minutes you got the perfect shot, and you went straight to Instagram to post it.

With a small filter added, all you had to do was add the caption, but what should you even put? You had no clue honestly, you weren't as witty as you had originally thought.

Maybe posting it without a witty caption would be better, making less noise will create more noise.

So that's exactly what you did. You uploaded the photo to your story and waited. Waited for Heeseung to see it., until he did.

Heeseung went onto Instagram after he hung out with his friends, plus Julie, and he saw that you had posted on your story. He clicked on it and what he saw was something he expected, but also didn't. He hated that you were posting shit like this. He couldn't take it anymore, he slid up and started typing out a reply to your story.

It was about three hours after you had posted it when you got a notification while you were scrolling through tik tok.

'heeseung.lhs69 replied to your story: Y/N can you knock this off?'

Seeing the notification shocked you, first off why does he have '69' in his username? Is he serious? Since when did he have 7th-grade boy humor? It was probably the fault of his dumbass friends.

You didn't really know how to reply to him, but what matters is your plan worked. He fell for your bait finally.

you: what're you talking abt ?

hee: you know what I'm talking abt y/n

you: no i don't think i do heeseung

hee: we should talk in person y/n

you: ykw fine when and where

hee: ice cream place where we had our first date, 6 pm, today

you: k i'll see you then ig

Although it didn't seem like it, you were really nervous. He seemed serious even if it was just over text. It was only 4:30, so you had about an hour and thirty minutes to get ready or contemplate your choices, probably both.

You started getting ready, you didn't know how to dress really. You went for simple baggy jeans, a grey tank top, and a zip-up sweater. It was now 5:30, and so you left your dorm and started walking to said ice cream place.

After entering you saw him.. he was sitting at a booth. He looked quite nervous actually which is a big contrast to how you've been seeing him for two and a half years.

You slid into the seat in front of him and he immediately looked up from the table to look at you. "Hey," his voice was soft and gentle. You looked into his eyes, his soft, big doe eyes.. Looking into his eyes was your favorite activity when you were together, they were so beautiful. "Hey," you replied, also in a soft and gentle tone.

"I think we have to talk Y/N, I just want to explain myself," you let out a sigh knowing that he's right, you do have to talk. How could he leave you like that? "Explain it to me Heeseung, explain to me why you left me like the way you did," he was immediately saddened when you raised your voice a little at him.

"Y/N, I'll explain.. Please just calm down. I don't have a good reason.. Jake, my roommate, well we were talking and he told me about all the girls he's been with, and he asked me about how many girls he and I told him we've been together for five years and he started laughing. He then told me he was gonna invite a couple of friends, which he did," you didn't interrupt him the whole time. You just listened as he continued to talk.

"When they came over, it was four of them, Jake told them what I said about you and then they all started going on about how I'm too young to be tied down like that, I should live a little. I originally shot it down but they started giving me alcohol. The more they talked about the benefits of being single, and the more they talked about all the fun they have I started to believe them. I felt as though I was tying you down, I was a burden, that you'd be better off without me," you didn't know if you should be pissed off or pity him, he was influenced by his 'friends.'

"I started to believe what they were telling me, and they were telling me I should just let you go because you're probably getting bored. I was scared of the future, I was scared you'd break it off cause you were bored, and so I broke up with you first. I started doing all the things they did, hookup, smoke, drink, party and I did it all to move on from you," his story was making sense, that's 100% something his friends would do but you were still pissed at him.

"That doesn't explain to me why you didn't just think to talk to me and express your feelings to me. We could've talked this out, but you didn't even bother to text me," he sighed knowing you were right, and he didn't even have an excuse.

"I don't have an excuse, I'm an idiot Y/N. I love you so much and I wasn't thinking, they manipulated me, and I believed it all.. It was selfish of me and I know what I did was wrong. I hurt you and I'm just realizing it. It took me this long to realize how much of an asshole I was, my actions weren't okay," he looked back down at the table like he was in shame.

"Why would you post girls in your story though? I know it was to make me jealous, your story makes sense but that part doesn't add up," honestly you believed his story. He's always been quite gullible and pliable. Obviously, you never used that as an advantage, you'd never take advantage of him.

"Well... I wanted you back but I didn't know how to contact you.. How to communicate it, how to get through to you. When you posted that on your story earlier I couldn't hold back. I know you've been using Giselle's account to view my story, and that's not exactly relevant, but I've been doing it cause I miss you, and I want you. My new persona, it's all fake. I don't like doing this stuff. I just wanted to fit in and forget about you, I was depressed and vulnerable when Jake started doing what he was doing. I love you, I miss you, I want you, and I don't have any good excuses."

He's right, his excuse isn't exactly good, he knows he fucked up, and did you wrong. He had no actual good excuse, he had no actual reason for the thing with the girls.

"You should've just talked to me Heeseung," you were disappointed in him, and you resented him. "I know Y/N, I'm an idiot, and I made a selfish, vulnerable mistake. Please, I want you to forgive me, I want to be with you again, I want to be with you forever," those last few words were kind of shocking to you. Did he mean that? You both had discussed marriage and the future briefly and that ended in a big argument so it was never brought up again.

"What are you even saying?"

"I'm saying I see a future with you, and I know we had a huge fight about the future which also led to our break up, but I'm serious. I want you back. Please," he didn't stutter, not one bit and that solidified his point. He was serious.

"Okay, but you still hurt me, you still did all these bad things that made you an asshole. I can't just forget what you did to me," he was so, so desperate for you, so desperate to get you back to him. "Please."

He kept repeating himself,

"Please Y/N,"

"Please,"

It was almost pathetic how he was begging, how he was so desperate, but at the same time, it was so sexy. You had never seen him beg you before, he'd always been the top. You looked into his eyes, and he was staring right back at you waiting for a response.

It was difficult, you didn't know if you should forgive him, after all, he happened to fall in with the wrong crowd, he was manipulated, he was molded.

"Heeseung, you still fucked me over, you still ruined me, and broke my heart. Don't you know how hard this is?" he nodded, he knew you'd be hesitant. He never expected you to give in immediately and he knew he would have to convince you. However, there was one detail he left out, one that would change everything.

"Y/N, there was a detail I left out, and it seems that you completely forgot that you also played a part in this. You're not completely innocent," you were confused, how could that even be?

"When Jake was giving me alcohol and convincing me of all these things, I texted you, I needed you, I needed your support in that moment, and I know you weren't busy either. You ignored me, ignored me when I needed you most. That, plus all the manipulation, it broke me, it made me send that text, made me spiral into who I am now," holy shit. He was right.

Nearly three years ago, two days before your first day as a college freshman, you were decorating your dorm. You and Giselle went shopping for decorations and you weren't busy at all that whole day which Heeseung knew.

You had seen the notifications coming in, you read them and you didn't reply. You remember the texts, you remember it all.

'y/n i need you rn'

'babe pls reply'

'i need you please im serious y/n pls respond'

You were so caught up in your dorm decorations, and shopping you ignored Heeseung when he needed you the most, when he needed you to save him.

You weren't busy, you just simply didn't reply.

It was partly your fault.

"Heeseung.." now it was your turn to beg, to ask for forgiveness, and it didn't feel very good. "I'm so sorry, it's my fault. I saw the texts and I just ignored them, and I don't know why. You needed me, you needed help, and I wasn't there.. Holy shit," you wanted to reach for his hand, to hold him, but you knew you didn't have the right to.

"Y/N, I needed you, I really did, and you weren't there. We both fucked up, we both contributed to the end of our relationship. What matters is that I realized what was happening, that I changed for the worst, and that I realized that they had manipulated me, and peer pressured me. We both messed it up, and I want to fix it, please," his words resonated with you and he was absolutely correct. You both fucked up.

"What do we do? Do you mean you want to get back together?" you were hoping he would say yes, you did want to get back with him, I mean that was literally the whole goal.

"Yes, I want you to be mine again, I still love you, I never stopped," you immediately nodded in response telling him you also wanted to be back together.

"I missed you, babe," the nickname had always made your heart flutter but hearing it after all these years that's not in the context of a one-night stand made your cheeks heat up.

It felt like your first date all over again, you're even in the same place, a second first date.

"Let's go back to my dorm, Jake isn't there, and he won't return till like the afternoon tomorrow," you nodded and got up. He grabbed your hand, dragging you out of the ice cream shop and back towards campus.

After you arrived at his dorm he couldn't hold himself back and immediately crashed his lips to yours. You instantly started kissing him back. It felt more real this time, it was filled with love, passion, and longing.

You felt your back hit the wall as his hands grabbed onto your hips, and your fingers got lost in his hair.

He broke away from the kiss before grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of you. "You've been driving me insane, you know, with those revealing photos of yours. Especially the one of your cleavage. I missed your tits so bad baby," his hands grab your clothed tits. You can feel him reach behind your back and make quick work of the clasp he was clearly skilled.

When he got it off you could feel his mouth attach to one of your nipples. You let out a small moan which just egged him on. "Hee— please," he let go of your nipple and looked into your eyes, but that didn't last long because he immediately started kissing your neck, and biting it gently while he unbuttoned your jean shorts.

"Shit I missed this so fucking much Y/N," you clenched around nothing at his words, you could feel that your underwear was ruined, and how drenched they were, and so could he.

Once he got your shorts off he threw them somewhere in the room, it didn't even matter. You felt his hands trace your underwear and touched your clothed pussy. He let out a groan at the feeling of how wet you were, "holy shit Y/N, you're so fucking wet already," he took your hand dragging you to his bed. He debated doing it on Jake's bed for revenge, but he didn't want any more problems or misunderstandings, he just wanted you.

Now you were lying on his bed with him hovering above you. This time it felt more real, it felt more passionate rather than when you were drunk and stupid.

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and pulled it off, and when he did you got shy and tried to close your legs but he wouldn't let you. He gripped your thighs and pulled them apart again giving him a view of your bare, dripping pussy. The look of pure hunger in his eyes was unmistakable.

He ran one of his hands down your thigh, then to your inner thigh, and finally reached your core. He ran a finger through your folds teasing your entrance. You were so desperate you couldn't help but moan.

The wetness of your cunt made him groan, and his pants tighten. He stuck one finger in, and then a second. The intrusion made you moan and squirm, but that only made him smirk.

He thrusted his fingers in and out of you slightly curling them to hit that spot that makes you scream.

"Fuck— Right there Heeseung!" You moan out.

"Yeah? You like that baby?" He chuckled a little, and the smirk on his face grew.

He continued to move his fingers and started going even faster. You felt the familiar knot in your stomach start to tighten and you knew what was coming. "Heeseung.. Shit," he nodded slowly and spoke "Come on, cum on my fingers baby," his words made you clench around his fingers before you finally reached your limit with a moan loud enough you were sure the neighboring dorms could hear.

Both yours and his breathing were fast and heavy. He was still hovering above you while he looked at your face which was covered in a thin layer of sweat. "Can you take my cock, or are you completely spent?" He asked the question in a soft tone not wanting to hurt you or overwhelm you.

"I need your cock Heeseung," the softness in his eyes instantly left now replaced with a look of desire, and lust. "Then that's exactly what you're gonna get baby," he started removing his clothing starting with his shirt, then his belt, his pants, and finally his boxers.

When he took his boxers off you couldn't stop staring at his dick. The thick, long, veiny shaft was one you had missed in these past years. "I can see you staring my love," you couldn't even stop yourself and you just kept staring.

He gave himself a couple of pumps spreading the precum along his shaft. He then lined himself up with your entrance, he hesitated for a moment looking at you, "Do you want it rough, or slow?"

"Please give it to me rough," he didn't give you a second to think before he pushed inside of you quickly, and immediately bottomed out.

"Fuck!" You moaned out at the feeling of the stretch of your hole from his cock.

He grabbed your thighs tightly allowing him to thrust into you more efficiently. You felt him hit your G-spot every time he moved in and out. You felt your climax approaching and you bucked your hips as he groaned feeling you clench around him.

You finally went over the edge and came onto his cock, while you felt him release into you. His thrusts slowed to help you ride out your orgasm before he slowly pulled out, making you whine at the empty feeling.

He kissed your lips before lying down next to you. You turned to look at him and you stared into each other's eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips. "Goodnight my love, I missed you so much. I won't fuck this up."

You were going to respond but the exhaustion caught up to you and you fell asleep in his arms, for the first time in years as his girlfriend.

TAGLIST : @clandestineself @kittympirty @azzy02 @wemalyri @jayhoonvroom @hwangswife4

[premiumbitch]

˖˚⊹ LEONORA'S IMPORTANT ACCOUNT ANNOUNCEMENT ! ˖˚⊹

Hey everyone,

I'm writing to let you know that this will probably be my last post for now. I'll be taking a break from posting, possibly permanently. Lately, I've been feeling incredibly burnt out, and I realize that I've been prioritizing this account over my own personal growth and well-being. This burnout has taken a toll on my mental and emotional health, and I find that I'm not able to write or create content to the best of my ability right now. I'll still be online reading other tumblr posts (until I actually shift) but I just won't be posting currently.

I've completed most the requests I've received so far and milked out every last drop of my brain power to post as much as I can before I leave, but now my asks and requests are closed. I wanted to post more but It's overwhelming, and I need to take a step back and focus on myself for a while. My posts will still be up & I won't be deleting any of them because I know it has helped many of you.

I don't know if I'll be back, as I have a strong feeling that I'll shift soon and when I do, I plan to permashift. Once I enter the void and manifest what I want, I might return here one last time to update you all.

Thank you so much for all the love and support. I'll never forget it, even when I'm navigating multiple different realities.

Love you all & best of wishes on your LOA/SHIFTING journeys, you got this! <3

[writersblockworks]

ITS FAN NUMBER 76!!!!! may I have some Mouthwashing fluff with Anya and Daisuke, just them hanging out and being goofy friends together?? :]!!!

Hi fan number 76!! And yes! I need a break from smut do sorry to my other asks who want smut you will get it. I just need a smut break to get out of my writing block. I’ll make this from a third person perspective to try something new!

No mention of the criminal no one likes that asshole

Game night

“Shit!” Anya yelled out. Her fists slamming into the wooden table causing the board pieces to jump, some falling down as they back to the table. Daisuke and Curly almost jumped with the game pieces but Swansea just grinned and took the last property card she needed.

“Sorry Anya, I landed on it.” He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

“I needed that.” She groaned. The monopoly game was long they had been there too long and Anya was now losing her mind.

“Should have landed in it first then.”

“It’s monopoly you can’t-“

“Anya just buy it from him.” Curly sighed. Anya groaned

“He’s just going to sell it at the most unreasonable price!”

“Relax it can’t be that much the property was 250-“ Daisuke started but Swansea interrupted.

“I’ll sell it to you for 500.” Swansea said

“Im gonna flip this table.” Anya huffed

“Do not.” Daisuke chuckled as he grabbed the two dice in front of him.

The rest of the game went smoothly well as smoothly as it could be. Swansea ended up winning the game dispute Anya swearing he cheated. Curly and Swansea went to bed leaving Anya and Daisuke In the common room. Anya laid out on the couch while Daisuke went to put the game up and into the cabinet. After he put the pieces on the box and closed it he looked to his friend.

“Do you know much longer we will be up here for?” He asked.

Anya’s face switched from a pissed off look to a solemn one. “3 months give or take.” She replied still looking up at the ceiling. After a moment of silence she looked at him “what’s waiting back home for you?” She asked with a slight smile.

“Baseball.” (It’s my head cannon he played baseball okay.) he started, carefully sliding the lid of the box to seal the dreadful monopoly game. “I was really good at it. Though I don’t know how being in space so long will affect it.” He added putting the box away and walking to the couch. Anya saw him walk over and she sat up to make room for him.

“Well. You’ll be a bit taller, when we fist get off this ship our sense of gravity will be messed up and we might not be able to walk for a day or two but after that we should be fine.” Anya said while she stretched out on the couch.

“What are you gonna do when we get back?” Daisuke asked.

“Medical school-“ Anya started

“Again??”

“Shut up….. I mean I’ll pass eventually right?” Anya chuckled. Though little humor was behind it.

“Well. I think this time you’ll get it. I mean you’ve been reading a lot right?” He asked. Which she nodded.

“I hope you’re right. At least I’m doing something interesting and not eating the game pieces. Now we no longer have the game Sorry.” She chuckled “how are you even alive?” She added. He chuckled and shrugged.

“I have an iron stomach.” He shrugged

Hey guys!! I’m back and I’m trying to get back into writing. I e had a lot of shit go on these past two months and I’m back!! My requests are open!! Sorry this wasn’t longer

[wannabanauthor]

Now I don’t know if I’m trying to manipulate myself, but the more time has passed since the BuckTommy breakup, the more I’m excited for potential messiness if Tommy comes back.

Note: this only applies to the potential of Tim and the writers getting them back together. If Tommy never comes back, fuck everyone and their momma.

Buck is one of the main characters and Tommy isn’t, so the relationship looking one-sided could be practical or intentional. We don’t know at this point.

But I feel like Tommy maybe fell in love with Buck and didn’t realize it until it was too late, and the best thing he could do for himself was to walk away.

Because as much as Tommy tries to be honest and realistic with Buck, he’s the one who charmed the pants off Buck. Tommy made the first official move, and then the second, and gave things another try with Buck, and was consistently acting like a perfect boyfriend.

My thought process is “why not husband if husband-shaped?” Tommy was putting forth this persona of a good partner, and then pulled away once Buck felt comfortable moving things forward.

And that’s what gets me angry. Tommy intentionally sought Buck out after the basketball game, kissed him, asked him out, then gave Buck a second try, dated him for 6+ months, then ended things.

My point is Tommy was going beyond what he needed to be a good boyfriend, and yet he was surprised that Buck held him to that and wanted to be more serious.

It’s probably just the writing, but it irritates me that they went from talking about deep personal stuff in Season 7 to not even knowing each other’s sexuality, exes, or that Buck dislikes basketball in Season 8.

And as always I completely forget what the point of this post is. Oh, yeah, potential messiness.

Because what if post-breakup, Buck and Tommy start hooking up with no strings attached. Buck thinks it’s a good idea because he can at least be with Tommy in some way, and what if Tommy feels the exact same way. They could both be pining for each other while also piping each other.

Hell, we could even throw in an old cliche trope of “no kissing” because kissing could be a sign of intimacy, and they’re not ready for that.

And maybe it makes for some comedic scenes in the show. Maybe Buck and Tommy are trying to avoid anyone else finding out, but the FireFam are suspicious that Buck has stopped talking about Tommy altogether after pining for weeks.

Even better, what if Buck and Tommy run into each other at Eddie’s farewell house party? And everyone assumes it’s going to be awkward because they don’t know that Buck and Tommy are still fucking.

And once Buck and Tommy barely interact with each other at the gathering, the FireFam now have some circumstantial evidence about the two of them. Their suspicions grow when they see Buck and Tommy actively avoiding each other, and it’s not the usual type of avoiding the ex scenario.

So maybe a day or two later in a non-Buck group chat, Eddie is happy that Buck and Tommy can be together in the same room with no drama. Only for Hen and Chimney to rain on his parade with the texts saying something like “they’ve been secretly seeing each other since the breakup”, but they don’t know the details.

So one day, Eddie tries to bring it up by inviting Tommy and Buck to a Zoom call. Eddie says “hey, the rest of the gang thinks you’re dating again, so you might want to set that straight for them before it spirals into a thing”

And Buck and Tommy are dead silent, and Eddie realizes. “No way, you couldn’t have told me?!”

“Well, we’re not dating,” Tommy says.

Buck is a little hurt but it’s the truth.

So Eddie says “if you’re hooking up, you might as well date again. Same perks plus cuddles and spending time with each other.”

Tommy abruptly leaves the Zoom, and Buck looks like he might cry. Eddie tries to cheer him up, but Buck starts crying.

Then Buck hears someone knocking on his door. It’s Tommy. Eddie’s still on Zoom, so he gets to watch and record them deciding to get back together. Win-win for everyone.

[saejinniestar]

My moots as Pikmin!!

You don't have to know what these creatures are...... Just know you're one.

Red Pikmin. Fire resistant and basically a starter Pokemon.

@yeoningz Hey she came back with a new blog. That's what I call fire resistant.

2. @luvsicktyun Same with Rae.

Blue Pikmin. Squirtle go!! Water resistant.

@jjunbug WELL......... I can see something and I know she'd be a great blue Pikmin.

2. @dawngyu Blue Pikmin are better when they work together.

Yellow Pikmin. Electricity resistant and very helpful.

@beomiracles She's very helpful and yellow Pikmin are better.

2. @liverspaghett She's very, very electric.

Purple Pikmin. They might be fat but they can carry heavy objects.

@xylatox The way you write all those things about fics...... I could never. I am in awe.....

2. @farewelldevil I just can't imagine how it must be to have one of the greatest servers ever.

White Pikmin. Poison resistant and really fast.

@biteyoubiteme She's fast, I see her always on it with everyone.

2. @gyu-tori I am surprised by how good her stories are.

Rock Pikmin. They smash things.

@livorice Your boyfriend should let you smash.

2. @prince-jjae I'd say....... give me some time and I'll have an answer to this.

Ice Pikmin. "LET IT GO, LET IT GO!!" They freeze things.

@huckleberrykai BERRY COME BACK!!

2. @nyanzzn It's the color.

Glow Pikmin. They glow.

@hyukascampfire She's glowing, you just don't know it yet.

2. @jenoslutie Her one fic with Jeno really took me away.

Winged Pikmin. They fly.

@talkingsaxy You're really flying on your blog, love those bf pics.

2. @saejinniestar Me because I love the color pink.

Bulbmin. THEY CONTROL THEIR HOSTS' BODIES.

@tubattutu Do you do this??

2. @soobabby I have no words.

[writingbylee]

i be here— ready to cheer💕💕

Due to you being blood, Tymon will respect you marrying Elayna should you do so.

OH SHIT???? JOHANNA???

It would also help alleviate the rumors swirling as to why you have yet to marry

just let the man be a little gay goddamn

In the early years after they ended their illicit relationship, he might attribute the joy as ungentlemanly eagerness, despite him being the one to break it off.

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD TYLAND AND JOHANNA LORE OH MY GOD

If he is entirely honest with himself, which he does try to practice given most of Jason's flaws stem from a lack of self-awareness…

um i think i’m obsessed with Tyland? i think i’m in love? how is this happening??? so quickly???

Abrogail and Larys Strong stand amongst the crowd, which is expected given their uncle and niece are arriving.

OOOOOO HEY ABBY!!!!!!!

He slides them as he would beads on an abacus. Later, he shall sort everyone and figure out specifics, but for now, all he needs is numbers. 

OBSESSED with this glimpse into Tyland’s psyche and how he both manages and plays the proverbial “game of thrones”

Otto's appraisals tend to be favorable when the subject doesn't back down or flinch. 

I LOVE SEEING INTO TYLAND’S MIND OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDD

“I'm heartened to see Lia joining us.”

OOOOOOO HEY LIA!!!!!!

The wheelhouses roll in, the Lannister's first and the Reynes following.

i literally got so caught up in the story that i forgot that i was trying to pull out the bits i liked the most whoopsies

Both behave exactly as they should. Yet Tymon almost smirks as he observes the crowd, his eyes lighting in an almost cruel way, a shark surveying for his next meal. By contrast, Cerelle's cool appraisal, while still an assessment, comes off as more intrigued than anything else. She surveys everyone with an air of excitement.

LOVE this breakdown of how quickly Tyland sees and reads, accurately, the changes in Tymon and Cerelle. such a good look into how Tyland moves those people around his abacus!!

Assuming the worst of family isn't a good look. 

fucking TYMON oh my LORD

Perhaps it's best Tymon sees him as useless and aging. 

oooooo Tyland’s got your fucking playbook Tymon, get FUCKED

He must speak with Alon anyway. It might be prudent to go out of his way to befriend Alon.

hmmmm would it now👀👀

Tyland instinctively knows Elayna would ruin him were he a younger man.

babe i’m pretty sure she’s gonna ruin now as an older man— but whatever helps you sleep better at night my guy

I AM OBSESSED WITH THE WHOLE SEQUENCE WHERE TYLAND NOTICES THAT ELAYNA MOVES PEOPLE AROUND LIKE HIM. like i literally cannot pull out a favorite line because id just be copy and pasting the entire thing. the joy and nervousness in Tyland as he sees it, betraying him to still be that young man on the inside who is about to be ruined by Elayna. Tyland wanting desperately for Elayna to see it in him as well, and then she DOES. it’s so good. it’s just so good.

Much to his surprise, Cerelle looks at Elayna with a strangely wistful expression, one Tyland is intimately acquainted with.

NOT THE SAPPHIC SADNESS AHHHHHHHHHH

once again got sucked into the story and completely forgot to pull out my favorite bits of text because it’s all just so GOOD

OH MY GOD THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN TYLAND AND ALON!!!!!!! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HAVE COHERENT THOUGHTS WHEN YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD???????? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO THINK ABOUT ALON’S SICKNESS WHEN IT MAKES ME SO SAD????? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FATHOM THE IDEA OF ALON KNOWING WHAT HE WANTS FOR ELAYNA BUT ALSO KNOWING THAT MUST BE HER CHOICE?????? EVERYTHING ABOUT THAT CONVERSATION MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM AT THE SKY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

no coherent thoughts. only Alon and Elayna. and also Tyland.

Wheel of Fortune: The Fool (Emperor, Upright)

Story summary: Elayna Reyne often imagines herself being someone and making a name for herself but only in the way young girls do. Unfortunately, when Elayna makes her way to King's Landing as one of Cerelle Lannister's ladies-in-waiting, Elayna finds dreams come with a price. Chapter summary: The Lannisters and Reynes arrive at King's Landing. Tyland begins the process of sorting and accounting for changes they may cause. Word count: ~6.5k Author's note: I want to thank @writingbylee and @baba-fett because y'all are always some of my biggest cheerleaders. I also want to think @emilykaldwen and @ewanmitchellcrumbs for letting me borrow Abby and Lia respectively. It means so much that y'all trust me with your OCs!!! Masterlist , Previous chapter

My good brother,

I apologize for my lack of letters as of late. Cerelle and Tymon's eight and tenth nameday is almost a moon away, and much preparation is to be done, both for the festivities and for their futures. 

Both their father and I agree it is time both come to the Red Keep. We have ensured a place for Cerelle as one of Princess Helaena's ladies-in-waiting. Tymon shan't be staying as long. I bring him merely so he may begin to make more thorough connections. It will be good for both of them, and I trust both of them to take initiative. 

I have a favor to ask of you. It is a large ask, but I fear no one else can help me. I would not mention this if it weren't important.

Tymon has taken an interest in Alon's daughter, Elayna. Despite multiple conversations, he cannot be deterred. He is determined to marry her. While the marriage is advantageous on paper, a union between Tymon and Elayna is ill advised. Most marriages learn to work towards a common good. I cannot see the two of them achieving a point of equanimity.

My son is headstrong, as I'm sure you have picked up on from my letters. Normally, this attribute is beneficial, but it isn't in this particular instance. This is where I must ask a favor from you. Tymon will not respect most men. Due to you being blood, Tymon will respect you marrying Elayna should you do so.

Alon shall join us on the trip to King's Landing, and he can speak with you more about this idea. We have conversed about it so this will not come as a surprise to him. Don't take this to mean I do not care for Elayna; I see much potential in her. I have done all I can for her, but the refinement she is in need of is not something I am equipped to deal with. You are in a much better position to do so. 

It is an advantageous match. It may help open some of the few doors still closed to you. It would also help alleviate the rumors swirling as to why you have yet to marry. Ordinarily, I don't grant rumors and whispers my attention, but they have turned nasty as of late. 

We shall leave in two moons time, not too long after the festivities. It shall be nice to see you again. Your presence is missed here. 

Your friend,

Johanna 

Tyland reads over the letter once again. The letter is nearly 3 moons old, and he keeps other, more recent, correspondence from her since then, but the contents of this one interest him still. Johanna’s preference for not sugar coating the truth behooves, and occasionally amuses, him. He places it back on his desk and pads over to his study window. The carriages should be there within the next several hours. This shall not be the last time he checks; he is inexorably drawn to the window, waiting and watching, eagerly awaiting Johanna’s arrival.

Tyland no longer feels strange when he sees her. In the early years after they ended their illicit relationship, he might attribute the joy as ungentlemanly eagerness, despite him being the one to break it off. Now, his joy stems from seeing an old friend. Truth be told, Tyland almost prefers her friendship to their scandalous affair. Hiding it still makes him sick with anxiety and worry, the fear of being found out never going away entirely. Distance doesn't always doom love, but it certainly destroys affairs.

In the late hours of the night, Tyland catches himself wondering if Cerelle and Tymon might be his. The others are not, he knows this for a fact. No proof exists, but the thought sticks in his mind. 

Tyland sighs. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear it, banish all distractions. He drums his fingers on the windowsill. Johanna rarely asks much of him yet this request sours in his mouth. Perhaps it is the acknowledgement of the rumors as to why he hasn't married yet. Even now, despite everything he has achieved, people gossip about him. The longer he waits, the more people question why. None are so bold as to say directly what they think, but he hears the term “bachelor” thrown around in hushed whispers. 

Tyland runs his hands over his face. He should at least get to know Elayna, he supposes. It wouldn't hurt. He looks out his study window once more, pursing his lips together. If he is entirely honest with himself, which he does try to practice given most of Jason's flaws stem from a lack of self-awareness, Tyland hesitates at the idea of giving up his current life. While the constant barrage of letters irritate him, he enjoys the freedom he has. He inhales and slowly exhales. 

“I shall give it a chance.” Tyland murmurs. 

It would be an advantageous match, both for his family and for himself. Jason's hubris and inattentive nature endangers them; taking advantage of Jason's foibles would be easy if it weren't for Johanna. Marrying the only Reyne daughter strengthens the bonds and takes away any incentive of undermining or rebellion. It also strengthen his position, incentives forward movement, perhaps towards Master of Coins.

Tyland nods. 

It isn't a terrible idea. He can't truly judge how good of an idea it is until he meets Elayna, but on paper, it is a fairly solid suggestion, certainly one he'll take under advisement. 

********************************************

Tyland stands in the courtyard. The arrival of the Lannisters and Reynes causes buzz, and more people stand with the greeting party than he expects. Despite it not being for him and his family, pride creeps through him and settles in his chest. Abrogail and Larys Strong stand amongst the crowd, which is expected given their uncle and niece are arriving. Queen Alicent and Otto stand among them, again not a surprise due to Otto's first wife being a Reyne as well. Truly, more people stand in attendance than Tyland expects, and the sight raises his spirits significantly. 

Tyland rolls Johanna’s suggestion around in his head as he notes who stands in the courtyard and on the steps, each person's ties and allegiance a number in the equation. He slides them as he would beads on an abacus. Later, he shall sort everyone and figure out specifics, but for now, all he needs is numbers. 

“I imagine you are excited to see your nephew and nieces.” Otto's voice almost makes Tyland start. 

“I am.” Tyland smiles. “I haven't seen them in quite some time.”

Otto nods. He interlaces his fingers behind his back. Tyland watches him, keeping his best blandly happy expression on his face. He doubts Otto suspects anything, and he will not give him a reason. 

“I do wish my brother was able to make the journey.” Tyland offers as a way of distraction. It isn't as if he is lying either, he does wish Jason could be here, even if he would be irritated with him before the end of the week.

“It is one of my few regrets I was not able to see my brother and nephews more. Yet I wouldn't change it. The Realm comes first.”

“A sacrifice made in name of the Realm is a worthy one.” 

Otto lets out a low noise of agreement. He studies Tyland for a second, gaze cool and appraising, but Tyland stays steadfast. Information is knowledge, and Tyland gleans what he can from watching interactions. Otto's appraisals tend to be favorable when the subject doesn't back down or flinch. 

“I'm heartened to see Lia joining us.” 

Tyland means what he says, but it is also a self-serving statement. Changing the conversation gives Tyland a chance to breathe, releasing him from Otto's scrutiny for a moment. Few see Tyland for who he truly is. If Otto pays too much attention, he may get a peek behind the carefully crafted façade, which is not exactly what Tyland wants. 

Otto doesn't need to know the full extent of Tyland’s ambitions. He doesn't need to know if things go according to plan, Tyland sees himself as Hand within the next decade, perhaps within the next five years if he plays his cards right. Otto is crafty, he surely expects Tyland desires more than Masters of Ships. However, if he sees Tyland as a threat, Tyland will gain no traction.

Better to let Otto think he aims for Master of Coins, a more than respectable position.

“Yes.” Otto turns his head. As he looks at his wife, Tyland swears Otto's jaw softens the slightest amount. He turns his attention back towards the gate. “My understanding is Alon has done much to keep the peace and ease tensions.”

Oh. Tyland tries not to blink. Tensions between the deceased wife's family and the new wife isn't a new issue, he supposes. Alon reaching out shifts dynamics, and if he reaches out to one, he surely reaches out to more. Alon may be in many people's good graces. 

A bead on the abacus slides. 

Thank the Seven Tyland makes time for people. He fears it may not be enough some days, given how much damage control he must do when Jason comes around, but anything helps. He loathes it, but in his sleepless moments, Tyland wishes he had been given the gift of gab. Not because he likes talking, precisely the opposite; he wishes it came easier to him because it feels so difficult and even tedious, depending on the person.

“Alon is a good man.” Tyland pauses. Oddly enough, he remembers Alon being the one to give him the idea. Not directly, of course, but Alon put the idea in Tyland’s head as an offhanded comment. With his new knowledge of Alon reaching out to Lia, Tyland wonders if it was on purpose.

He could offer the tidbit now, a fact about him that may cause Otto to look at him in a better light, but before he can, a crier catches everyone's attention. The carriages are close. Everyone in the courtyard turns towards the portcullis and gate, the chatter easing into whispers. People shuffle about the area, and Tyland moves instinctively with them as everyone shifts into their respective places. No one moves too far, they more move outward and away from clusters.

The wheelhouses roll in, the Lannister's first and the Reynes following. Tyland watches the wheelhouse eagerly. The closer he gets to seeing his family, the more his body almost vibrates. While he came here with a purpose all those years ago, he still misses his family, even Jason on occasion. He cannot say he misses everyone from Casterly Rock; a good portion of why he left is because of the people. Jason being named heir over him still stings on occasion, and the treatment after absolutely hurts. He consoles himself with his position now, but some damages cannot be undone.

Johanna exits the wheelhouse first. She looks much the same as Tyland remembers, the only sign of the years passing the wrinkles on her face. Tymon and Cerelle both stand taller than Tyland expects. He accounts for some growth, given it'd been several years since he's last laid eyes upon them, but he didn't prepare himself enough. Tymon stands almost as tall as Jason. In stature, he looks much like his father, but his eyes and facial features are more Johanna’s. Cerelle appears much the same as Tymon. Yet as Tyland looks at them, the difference between the two couldn't be plainer. 

It's in their eyes.

Both exit with the appropriate amount of decorum. Both behave exactly as they should. Yet Tymon almost smirks as he observes the crowd, his eyes lighting in an almost cruel way, a shark surveying for his next meal. By contrast, Cerelle's cool appraisal, while still an assessment, comes off as more intrigued than anything else. She surveys everyone with an air of excitement. When her eyes land on Tyland, Cerelle smiles. She smiles at him exactly the way she did when she was a young girl, eagerly greeting him and plying him with questions about King's Landing. Tyland smiles softly back. 

Otto and Alicent greet Johanna first. Tyland stands back and awaits his turn, content on observing for now. While speaking with Johanna is one of his priorities, it isn't as if another opportunity won't present itself. Besides, if his nearly 20 years of being at court has taught him anything, appearing too eager to speak with someone will not only raise eyebrows but also invite unwanted eavesdroppers when the important conversion occurs. 

When Johanna turns away from Otto and Alicent and towards him, Tyland takes his cue. He steps forward.

“Johanna.”

“Tyland.” Johanna’s tone warms up when she addresses him. They step towards each other but remain the appropriate distance apart, although the distance is still much closer than Johanna stands to most. “It is good to see you.”

“ ‘Tis good to see you as well. It has been far too long.”

“Uncle.” Tymon steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. “You look well.”

Were Tyland a fool, he might believe Tymon's words. Unfortunately for Tymon, Tyland was not born yesterday. While Tymon's tone is convincing, he nearly looks through Tyland. Tyland suspects he only doesn't because he is kin. 

“Tymon. As do you. You are much taller than I remember.”

Irritation flashes briefly through Tymon's eyes, not true anger but the aggravation of talking with a doddering relative. It hurts for a second, but Tyland pushes past it. While it does sting, being seen as old is to his advantage; Tymon will stay out of his way if he perceives Tyland as useless. Guilt briefly washes over Tyland. Assuming the worst of family isn't a good look. 

“Uncle!” Cerelle nearly chirps. She sounds genuine in her greeting unlike her brother. Out of the pair, Cerelle holds a soft spot in Tyland’s heart. He suspects she exploits it on occasion, as young adult are wont to do, but he doesn't mind as much as he should. Cerelle at least has the decency to treat him as family, no matter how long it's been since he's last seen them. 

“Cerelle. ‘Tis good to see you. Your mother told me you have good news?”

“I do. ‘Tis very exciting news.” Cerelle nearly beams. Tymon's upper lip twitches.

“We both have exciting news.” Tymon corrects Cerelle. 

“And I am at liberty to discuss mine.” Cerelle's matter of fact tone nearly makes Tyland raise an eyebrow. He looks at Johanna out of the corner of his eyes, wondering the exact nature of Tymon's news. Johanna’s displeasure is brief but strong. Tymon must catch it for he smiles, stiff but a smile nonetheless. 

“Forgive me. Your news is more pertinent.” 

Interesting. Tymon sounds surprisingly sincere, which feels at odds with the knowledge his apology isn't of his own volition. Still, Tyland zeroes in on the slight smirk, a brief twitch of Tymon's lips betraying him. 

Perhaps it's best Tymon sees him as useless and aging. 

The footman announces the beginning of the Reynes leaving their wheelhouse. Cerelle and Tymon slot themselves neatly beside Johanna and Tyland. 

Tyland finds himself waiting with almost baited breath. However long it has been since he's seen his family, it's been much longer since he's seen Lord Reyne. Rumors swirl about Alon's health. Normally, Tyland pays them no heed, but given he has the opportunity to find out for himself, he is a little curious. 

Alon demounts.

The rumors clearly come from how Alon looks. Alon stands much taller than most normally, but he almost seems shorter today. Tyland almost raises an eyebrow when he sees Alon with a cane. A quick glance over at Johanna confirms Tyland isn't seeing things; Johanna turns her head at the same time Tyland does and nods when Tyland does lift an eyebrow. She doesn't mouth anything yet her look conveys it all. Johanna shall tell him about it when she gets the chance. Tyland turns his attention back to the wheelhouse.

Hopefully all isn't as it seems. Alon sits at nearly 30 years of ruling Castamere, longer than many live. His death portends changes, no doubt massive ones. Tyland glances over at Otto. Of course, when those changes happen, Tyland will be questioned. He purses his lips together. He must speak with Alon anyway. It might be prudent to go out of his way to befriend Alon. Certainly, he doesn't think it would hurt.

Elayna is next to exit the wheelhouse. When Elayna descends, Tyland’s gaze focuses on her. A quiet feeling builds within his gut. Without speaking a word to her, Tyland instinctively knows Elayna would ruin him were he a younger man. She's gorgeous, and the way she carries herself makes it clear she is aware of this fact. Watching her brings memories of the women his age at Casterly Rock, the ones who marry early because many sought them out. 

She surveys the crowd with an air of nervousness and excitement in equal measure, but Tyland sees a quiet coldness lurking beneath the surface. It's in her eyes. They're wide with awe yet it isn't fixed. When her eyes move from person to person, the awe and apprehension slip, not overt enough most would notice but enough Tyland notes it. The look is no longer alarming but almost familiar, stirring a sense of recognition within him. 

Elayna counts. Elayna counts like him.

Elayna sits with her own abacus, pulling the people along the track into where she thinks they belong. Obviously, others do the same. Sitting on the Small Council gives Tyland a perfect view of how many people scheme and plot here, but they move people differently than him. Tyland stares at Elayna for a moment, waiting for the expression to return. Words aren't his speciality, numbers are, meaning he couldn't explain why he recognizes she moves people like him, at least on the initial step. Yet he feels it within his bones and chest, sensation spreading from his heart and disseminating outward, she's like him. 

Still, the worry from earlier gnaws at him, tempering his elation. Her counting is merely the first step, how she sorts and what she does are two different steps entirely. As surely as he recognizes Elayna is like him, he also sees the differences begin. Being wanted by others sets them apart. Tyland hears of it happening every year, how young men and women who are desired become different once they realize the hold they have over others. 

“Don't let her smile fool you.” Tymon's voice nearly makes Tyland jump. He realizes, rather belated, he was staring at Elayna. Tyland turns his head. Tymon keeps his gaze forward. “She may seem friendly, but I assure you, she is not.”

“Oh?” Tyland arches an eyebrow. 

“Yes. I made the mistake of befriending Elayna before I truly got to know her, and while Lord Reyne is content with his position, his daughter strives for more. If you understand my meaning.” Tymon sniffs. “I don't like using the word ambitious towards women because it seems... ugly.”

It seems Johanna wasn't exaggerating in her letter. Tyland merely nods.

“I see.”

What can he say to such a statement? Tymon presses his lips together. He stares at Alon and Elayna, watching intently as both Queen Alicent and Otto greet them. Tymon exhales after a long minute. His fingers flex against his sides. 

“Cerelle will corroborate.”

Of course Tyland gazes at Cerelle, intent on gauging her reaction. Much to his surprise, Cerelle looks at Elayna with a strangely wistful expression, one Tyland is intimately acquainted with. Cerelle clears her throat. 

“Perhaps we should speak with others. I don't wish to monopolize your time, Uncle.” Cerelle's mask falls perfectly into place, an excited young girl once more. Tyland turns towards Johanna.

“Shall we have supper together? Tomorrow night?”

Tyland offers not only out of politeness but also curiosity. It gives him an excuse to pry and find out more, unearth the history clearly at play here. Besides, Johanna will no doubt want to speak with him as soon as possible. Johanna dips her head. 

“Yes. That would be nice.” 

The three of them move towards the next group. Tyland presses his lips together. Already, he must exchange his abacus for a more useful instrument. These new pieces of information cannot be slid, he must analyze them. 

The sound of a cane on stone makes him turn. Alon and Elayna approach him, Ryman lingering behind them. 

“Ser Tyland. It has been quite some time.”

“Lord Reyne. It has indeed.”

“This is my daughter, Elayna.” Alon gestures to Elayna. Elayna curtsies. Tyland dips his head in response. When she stands once more, their eyes meet. Tyland waits with baited breath for a sign, an indication, she recognizes they are alike in some manner. The hope is juvenile, a fleeting and foolish emotion, but it burns within him.

He sees it. Tyland’s eyes catch hers as she appraises him. Her eyes widen, guilt crossing her face. Tyland smiles, not for politeness sake but to ease her worries. Elayna blinks. He almost sees her breath catch in her throat and then release, shoulders dropping a fraction. The recognition creeps into her hazel eyes. Tyland’s heart speeds up.

“It is an honor to meet you. Lady Johanna speaks very highly of you.”

Elayna's voice is lower pitched than he expects but not unpleasantly so. Quite the opposite, in fact. Much to his surprise, he hears more of a Castamere accent than a Casterly Rock one, and it sends a small bit of warmth through his body. 

“I'm heartened to hear that.” Tyland murmurs. “She has spoke of you to me as well. She says you've been an excellent friend to my niece.”

Elayna positively beams at his words. A strange ache forms within Tyland’s chest at the sight and blooms outward, filling him with a pleasant, almost buzzing, sensation. The corners of his lips lift, curling into a small smile in response.

"You flatter me.” Elayna tucks a stray strand of hair back into her braid. She looks at him from beneath her eyelashes for the briefest of seconds. 

“I speak the truth.”

Elayna grins. She ducks her head in an attempt to hide it. Alon gently clears his throat. The throat clear is meant for Elayna, and she straightens up at it. Still, her smile remains. It sends blossoming warmth through his entire body. Alon steps forward. 

“When you have the chance, I should like to catch up more fully with you.” Alon keeps his voice low. Elayna stays back a pace, but her head turns towards her father, clearly wanting to know what he's saying. Tyland nods. 

“Of course. If your travels were not too strenuous, perhaps we can do so this afternoon?” Johanna’s letter tells him what she wants from him but Alon's intent remains a mystery. This piece of information means he can better approach what Johanna asks of him. 

“That sounds excellent to me.” Alon nods, lifting his cane slightly and rapping it on the ground. “Perhaps we can meet while the girls settle in? It will take me less time to get comfortable.”

“I have some work I must do, but once it is done, I shall let you know.”

“Excellent.” Alon steps back. “I shall see you later today then.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ser Tyland.” Elayna curtsies.

“The pleasure is all mine.” 

Elayna's eyes light up with delight, her cheeks turning slightly pink. Pride surges through Tyland. Her reaction is genuine, and the realization makes his head spin slightly. Jason gets those sorts of reactions, never him. Alon begins walking, and Elayna dutifully follows, keeping close to his elbow. 

A squeal of delight interrupts his reverie. He turns. Elayna steps away from Alon as Abrogail runs towards her. The cousins meet in the middle, both of them eagerly clasping the other's forearm. They chatter excitedly. Alon shakes his head, but even from behind, Tyland senses it's a fond head shake. He turns his attention towards the cousins. 

He studies them closely. Abrogail and Prince Aegon are close, close enough people talk. He suspects within the next two or three years, the idea of marriage between the two will surface. Even if it doesn't, it's obvious Abby will always have Aegon's ear, whether she is aware of it or not. 

If Elayna and Abby remain close, then Elayna may have an indirect line to Aegon. While Viserys still lives, Rhaenyra sits as heir, but all her legitimacy dies in the eyes of the Small Council when Viserys does. None of them speak it outright yet moves are made every day for this inevitability. A line to the future King would never hurt. Certainly, it would aid Tyland’s ten year plan. 

Another bead slides. 

********************************************

His brief conversation with Elayna lingers in his mind as he goes about his duties the rest of the day. 

Several fruitless hours pass.

Tyland stares at the ledger in front of him. Ordinarily, he distracts himself after an important conversation, finding he gains more after he gives himself time. Reviewing a conversation too soon leads to obsessing over what was said and unsaid, which, ironically, means he misses the key points because he bogs himself down in the minutiae. Yet he cannot think of anything else. All he pictures is Elayna's smile.

Maybe this is beneficial. Meeting her does change how he views Johanna’s letter. He is only a man; bright eyes, a pretty smile, and sincere flattery do work wonders. However, as much as he is taken with Elayna's appearance, and he is taken he cannot deny it, he keeps the warnings in mind as well.  More accurately, Tyland reminds himself of Johanna’s words, not Tymon's.

Tymon may be blood, but blood doesn't guarantee brains. Tymon's youth also factors in Tyland’s opinions. Tymon is barely ten and eight, what can he possibly know? Tyland isn't entirely unsympathetic, truly. He remembers what it was like when he came to King's Landing, only ten and nine, a year older than Tymon. Tyland winces softly as a particularly embarrassing memory comes forward. 

Tyland sighs. After a second, he caves to his desires and rubs small circles on his temple, even though it won't alleviate the pressure. Of course, it cannot be simple. Nothing directly involving him ever can be, despite his best efforts. He rests his hands on the table in front of him, careful of the ink in the ledger. After a moment, he exhales and looks towards the ceiling.

No answers come. No divine inspiration strikes. No help in any shape arrives. Tyland closes his eyes. Once again, he must come up with his own solutions and deliver himself. 

Speaking with Alon is a start. Tyland opens his eyes, nodding softly. All he needs is a starting place. While he loathes not having a concrete plan of action, it makes him quite literally itch on occasion, he doesn't have enough information for a plan. He needs cursory research, and meeting with Alon provides it.

Tyland gathers himself. At supper, he shall glean more information, learn what he can. A single stray tidbit may aid his cause and center him, give him direction and purpose. The meeting with Alon will be of tremendous help; knowing Alon's plan will, at the very least, give him a bargain chip. 

Tyland stands up, closing the ledger. Surely Alon is settled by now. He could wait, he supposes, but the thought doesn't sit right within him. 

The walk to Alon's apartments doesn't take him as long as he expects. Alon’s position gives him a more than decent apartment, so Tyland doesn't have far to travel. 

Alon greets him cordially. He stands without aid but stays close to the wall. Weariness clings to him like a coat. Without the pressure of presentations and greeting, Alon relaxes. Tyland notes the bags under Alon's eyes and the slight discomfort and stiffness in his posture. 

“Ser Tyland.” 

“Lord Reyne. I hope I'm not disturbing you.” Tyland pauses. “If you are not quite settled in yet, I don't mind speaking at a later time. We do not have to make time now.”

He does mind. Alon’s condition is the reason he offers. Alon shakes his head almost vehemently. 

“Nonsense. I will always make time for those from home. Certainly, I shall make time for an esteemed member of the Small Council.” He steps aside, and Tyland enters.

“How are you finding things here? Are they as you remember when you were younger?” 

Alon shakes his head, letting out a soft laugh. 

“Things are quite... different. I don't recall the Faith of the Seven having as much hold, but. My memory may be failing me in my old age.” Alon keeps his face impassive and schooled, but a slight glimmer in his eyes betrays him. Tyland lowers his head and presses his lips together in a bid to keep his expression neutral. 

“My memory must be failing me as well then.”

A hiccup of a laugh escapes Alon, lips twitching. He presses them together. The barely suppressed grin betrays him trying not to laugh. After a moment, he clears his throat. Warm civility falls naturally into place. 

“Prithee, come in. Have a seat.” Alon gestures towards the main room of the apartment. Tyland steps forward and further into the space. Despite it being early in Alon's stay, Tyland glances around the area. Living spaces often tell much about a person. A book case catches his attention. It stands mostly empty except for several books on the top shelf. They're old and worn, not doubt memorized from how many times they've been read.

“ ‘Tis actually fortuitous you came by. I was about to come speak with you myself.” Tyland turns his attention back to Alon. Alon gestures towards one of the highball chairs. Tyland takes a seat, Alon following and sitting in the chair across from him. 

“Yes. I am sorry about the delay. Several matters were more complicated than I thought initially.”

“I figured as much. As Master of Ships, you must be busy.”

Tyland nearly preens at the mention of his title. He is but a man, and while he pretends otherwise, flattery and recognition of his status do grease the wheels. He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. 

“You said you wished to speak with me?” Tyland settles his hands in his lap. 

“I did.” Alon dips his head. “ ‘Tis about my daughter.”

“I see. Johanna said you might wish to speak about Elayna.” 

“Did she now?” Alon raises an eyebrow. Tyland tries his best not to swallow or stumble.

“Nothing bad. She merely suggested it. She seems to think I might be of use. I actually wanted to speak with you myself about it so I may know more.” Tyland watches Alon carefully. “She did not elaborate much on the issue. Out of deference to you, I assume.”

“Johanna is very proactive. I do wish she had informed me she was writing you. To answer your question, we both wanted to talk to you about Elayna's future.” Alon stops. He presses his lips together as he carefully selects his next sentence. “I need someone to watch Elayna while she is here. Someone who will keep her on the right path.” 

Alon opens his mouth and then stops. A brief look of concern crosses his face before a loud, harsh cough escapes him. The sound comes from deep within his throat, and Tyland leans forward, ready to call a Maester at any moment. Alon manages to reach for his drink with unsteady hands. As he does, his sleeve falls down his arm some, revealing dark and angry bruises. Tyland’s eyes flick from the bruising to Alon's face. Alon drinks deeply and greedily before setting down his goblet. When Alon lowers the goblet, Tyland catches the smell of the concoction, heart dropping some at the implications. The look must show on his face for Alon sighs. 

“I bruise rather easily these days. ‘Tis no one's fault but my own.”

“You should have the maesters take a look at them.” Tyland frowns. Alon waves him away. 

“The maesters have more important people to attend to.” Despite Tyland’s position, the authority in Alon's voice keeps his mouth shut. Tyland leans back in the chair. Alon coughs once more, this one not as violent. He clears his throat after, the look of irritation on his face one Tyland understands.

"I know it is a lot to ask. But I would not ask if it wasn't important.” Alon's voice comes out strained. Tyland leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. 

"Your illness has progressed, hasn't it?" 

Between the strong herbal stench coming from Alon's drink and the loss of vitality, Tyland feels confident in what the answer will be. Alon’s frail state all but confirms his suspicions. Still, he needs to hear it from Alon. Alon presses his lips together. He looks away for a moment before letting out a sigh. 

"The maesters say I will be lucky if I see next summer." He scoffs. "They know much, but I know my body and my will better than them. I have two more winters in me." He turns his attention back to Tyland. "Two winters isn't as much as I would like. I need to ensure Elayna's security before then. You're the only one I trust to treat her properly.”

Tyland blinks. He pauses and then clears his throat. As Alon's only daughter, Alon is always fiercely protective of Elayna. Pride swells within him but doesn't go far as his brain recalls Johanna’s letter. Alon isn't putting forth a betrothal but mentorship.

 “If it is truly so much of a-”

“No!” Tyland pauses. “No, I mean. Yes. Yes, I will watch her, it would not be a burden. I merely...” Tyland stops. He tries collecting his words. Alon raises an eyebrow in vague amusement. “Why ask me? Would it not make more sense to betroth her to someone and have them ensure her safety?”

Alon dips his head. He presses his lips together and drums his fingers on his lap for a second. Eventually, he gathers the correct words.

“ ‘Tis hard to explain to someone without children, but. No matter how well you treat them and try to do what's best for them. Occasionally, instead of doing right by them, you wrong them. I fear I err'ed in my judgement. It was what was best at the time yet I don't find solace in that knowledge. I... I do not wish for Elayna's last memories of me to be me doing wrong by her again.” 

Alon's voice cracks, tears welling up in his eyes. A surge of panic briefly overtakes Tyland. Should he... does he comfort Alon or avert his eyes and pretend he never saw? Alon sighs. He closes his eyes, and when he reopens them, clears his throat. Full dignity and determination return to his voice, an even keel once more. 

“She is prideful and stubborn, which means finding her a lord husband is no easy task. Too many men see a difficult woman and see something either to be tamed or broken. My daughter will not receive the same treatment as an errant horse. I also know if she doesn't want to do something, she will make it quite difficult.” He lets out a dry laugh. “She comes by it honestly. Her sin is my sin. It must be her decision, or at least appear to be her decision.”

Alon fixes Tyland with a look piercing into Tyland’s very soul. His green eyes see through Tyland's physical body and into his character. Instead of shrinking back, Tyland meets him evenly. He keeps his gaze on Alon's, unblinking. Whatever Alon seeks, he shall not find it in a man who shrinks before him; Tyland shall meet Alon where he stands. Alon nods and blinks once, the silent and wordless approval sending a rush of pride and euphoria through Tyland.

“I know we haven't spoken in many years, but you would not be where you are if you weren't patient and reasonable. Elayna needs a guiding hand. I trust you. I trust you to keep her even keeled, and I trust you to give her sound advice. I don't want someone with their own ambitions clouding her judgement. She has enough of them on her own.”

This time, Tyland allows himself to preen. His chest puffs out slightly, and he lifts his head a little higher. His spine softly cracks as he sits up a little straighter. 

“I appreciate your words.” He murmurs, attempting to downplay his reaction. Alon’s eyes sparkle.

“I speak only the truth.”

Tyland clears his throat. Alon’s praise feels genuine, and for once in his life, Tyland isn't sure what to do. He falls back onto the tried and true scripts. 

“I am honored you asked me. I shall ensure Elayna makes the best decisions.”

“Excellent.” Alon smiles. It's a genuine smile, full of warmth and appreciation. “It should not be too difficult. I also asked Lia to keep an eye on Elayna as well for when Johanna returns to Casterly Rock.”

Tyland leans forward despite himself. He arches an eyebrow.

“Lia?”

“Yes.”

“I'm not sure I follow your logic.” Tyland tilts his head slightly. Alon’s eyes glitter.

“You are more than suited to guide Elayna through most of the political world, but parts of it neither you nor I can teach. And as much as I respect Lady Johanna, her politics are more suited to Casterly Rock.” 

Tyland takes a moment, absorbing Alon's words. It makes sense. Tyland can help guide Elayna through certain decisions based on what he knows about the people around him, but she would need another woman's help when it comes to balancing the heart with reality. Slowly, Tyland sits upright. He nods, an impressed expression slipping onto his face. Alon continuously surprises him. 

“I must confess. I never would have thought of that.” 

“ ‘Tis my job as a father to think of these things.” Alon smiles at the compliment nevertheless. 

“I'm sure she appreciates it.” Tyland murmurs. He watches more weariness seep into Alon's being. Alon coughs again, this one not as severe as earlier but nevertheless painful. He clears his throat. 

“I am sorry to say this, but I fear my travels are finally catching up to me.” Alon's voice comes out a bit strained and weak, a bit of exhaustion creeping into it. 

“I understand. It is long trip.” Tyland stands slowly. Alon starts as well, but Tyland stops him. “You need your rest. I can see myself out.”

[clowningaroundmars]

previously:

It seemed like that was yet another constant through time and space; in every universe Miles Morales is in, he was always going to be annoyingly stubborn. And annoyingly self-sacrificing, too.

She relented. Leap of faith, after all.

“If you’re sure… then stick by me, and we’ll do it,” Gwen reassured him, hoping her smile under her mask was readable in any way at all.

They exchanged glances one more time, and then braced themselves for the inevitable.

well. things certainly ramp up quite a bit here in this installment. hope y'all are enjoying the show so far bc it sure does get interesting here for our fave teen vigilantes!

mind the warnings on part 1 here, for surrreee! enjoy :)

<< part 3 of 4 >>

To say that they fought like hell would be an understatement.

And to say that they ran like hell would also be an understatement as well.

That henchman down in the basement level of the compound wasn’t lying when he told the Doctor that he had the entire building on lockdown.

Even the scarce amount of still-working scientists left on the upper floors had all evacuated and now every single exit was sealed tight with emergency locks, metal panels blocking all windows.

They clawed, kicked, slipped, slid, punched and flipped their way past several armored goons, the computer tower on 42's back earning a bullet and a few scratches in the process. He tried keeping the minions away with powerful Muay Thai kicks to protect it as best he could.

It weighs him down only a little bit. Gwen kept looking over her shoulder to check on him every other second or so, but he seemed to be managing just fine with the tower on his back anyhow.

Once the two vigilantes were finally able to break away from the initial fight with what seemed like the entirety of Upstate New York’s small private army, they skittered and bolted through the high-tech facility at top speed, ducking and dodging various bullets and objects that flew through the air in their direction.

“So, uh--” Gwen panted, shooting a few webs behind her to trap some henchmen giving chase, “what was that escape plan you had in mind earlier? Could really use it right about now!”

42 slides onto his knee right underneath a table in an open-floor break room and then kicks it in order to provide cover from the rest of the hail of bullets.

Gwen leaps right over to join him, webbing up a microwave she snags off of a counter to use as a heavy projectile.

“Buy me a couple of seconds! I need to check my maps again,” 42 shouts over the sound of bullets firing and shouting, minding his back and trying his best to protect the computer as it still downloads the information he needs.

“Okay, but no promises!” Gwen replies, heaving the microwave over her shoulder and swinging it like a mace over her head.

Gwen manages to send the appliance sailing into a few henchmen, which probably knocks one out onto the ground, but she dived back behind their makeshift cover too quickly to see it.

The men start shouting loudly again, so maybe it did do some damage after all!

“... Do me a favor real quick,” 42 then says from his position on the ground, leaning on an elbow, “what color’s the wire on my pack right now?”

“Uhhh, your wire?” Gwen says quickly, still breathing hard. “The one connected to the computer? Oh, that’s… it’s not glowing anymore!”

42 bobs his head as he still works on his mask, giving it taps on the side every now and then. “Perfect, it’s done. Get this thing off of me, then! Let’s destroy it!”

Gwen laughs. “I’ve got a better idea!”

She rips her webs off of 42’s pack, separating the heavy computer tower from it and hoisting it up over her shoulder. She takes a peek over the edge of the table and promptly ducks back down to dodge another bullet.

One of the henchmen spots her with something hoisted over an arm and shouts at his peers to get out of the way.

Gwen then springs up while they’re sort of distracted, heaves the big bulky thing behind her and then she lets it swing. With the help of her super-strength, the tower sails through the air like a grenade, heading straight for a couple of goons still taking cover behind their own upturned table.

Everyone’s eyes follow it, as it seems to fly over in slow motion, heading straight for one henchman’s shocked face… when all of a sudden--

A long dark tentacle shoots out from a room off to the side and intercepts the machine, metal coming into contact with metal ringing loudly into the air and officially signaling the end of the fight between the henchmen and the vigilantes.

The computer hangs in the air in its grasp for a moment before the villain pulls it inside and promptly glides out of the room on his other tentacles.

It was of course, none other than the ever-so-charming Doctor Octopus himself.

The bullets stopped flying and most of the henchmen were already incapacitated anyways, so the silence that fell over the area wasn’t unexpected, but still very unsettling nonetheless.

“It seems my incompetent staff here hasn’t quite given you both the warm welcome that you deserve,” he announces, commanding voice echoing menacingly through the room, “a shame, really. Allow me,”

Yikes on bikes, Gwen thought, biting her lip.

He wasn’t adorned in his smart little suit that he was wearing earlier down in the compound’s basement level earlier… he was fully suited up in armor now, face partially obscured by a pair of high-tech goggles that featured two other lenses on the sides. Those smaller lenses constantly clicked and whirred, which intrigued Gwen.

42, on the other hand, didn’t seem so impressed. He jumped up suddenly from his cover as the Doctor advanced on them and extended a gauntlet out, letting several small purple sparks shoot out from the knuckles.

They looked an awful lot like the purple sparky-things he used to destroy the camera that watched over Gwen in her storage-room-slash-prison.

She picked up the table they used for cover and tossed it towards the Octopus while he was still slightly distracted from attempting to dodge them.

As expected, his tentacles took care of these pesky little distractions for him. In one graceful movement, he destroyed the table and rendered it into smithereens, the wood scattering everywhere below his feet.

“Time to go!” 42 shouts as he scrambles away from the menacing appendages striking out at them like cobras.

Gwen agrees, hot on his heels.

Geez, this sure was a lot like her encounter with earth-1610’s Dr. Octavius, down to the evil tentacle-chasing down a narrow hallway and all! Good times.

But now wasn’t the time for fond reminiscing, especially given that this particular variant of the Octopus was more than likely out for blood thanks to the two teens’ earlier escapades. They destroyed the Doc’s super collider and stole hundreds of his files straight out of his labs… they were cooked if he ever got a single tentacle on them!

They skid down halls and narrowly avoid becoming minced meat via tentacle-butchering by using their cunning and tossing any object they can get their hands on at the villain. Their every attempt is thwarted, exasperating them both.

"Get back here, you two! You won't escape!" The Doctor bellows behind them, and Gwen swears she can feel his hot breath down her neck at some points.

They leap and duck away from striking tentacles, jump off of walls to get a head start around corners, crash through walls of glass in sleek office spaces. Papers and tech fly everywhere.

“Miles--!” Gwen calls out when the two teens' momentum end up with them throwing themselves onto some railing on a mezzanine overlooking the main entrance lobby.

The lobby was huge, spacious, and obnoxiously pretentious. Big dark stone pillars stood thick and tall, holding up a vaulted ceiling that seemed to reach up into the sky. The receptionist’s area sat at the very center, round desks interconnected to form a big circle filled with computers, files, and the like.

The vigilantes looked down in dismay at the giant double-doors and the windows leading to their freedom, all sealed with the same metallic plating found in Gwen's prison-room. Which means it was also most likely held shut by whatever power source this building used. Shit, shit, shit!

Doc Ock was quickly covering ground, only a bit disgruntled from the narrow halls that slightly impeded his movement, and rapidly gaining on them.

The two looked at each other with wide eyes for a split second before swiftly turning around, sitting on the railing and then throwing themselves heels-over-head on the way down.

Gwen was thinking maybe they could hide for a split second if she stuck to the underside of the flooring and confused the Octopus long enough to web up that node on his back and attempt to rip it out, before she yelped in shock at metal claws gripping her ankle not even halfway down and yanking her back up with vicious force.

"Whooooaaa!" Gwen's voice echoes throughout the giant room.

“Gwen!!!” 42 yells, now on the floor and skidding to a stop. He whirls around in time to see Doc Ock gracefully climb down from the mezzanine as well, tossing his friend between two tentacles like she was a plush doll.

He holds both of her wrists in one vice grip, grinning like a madman in her face as she struggles against his technology, thrashing this way and that.

“Now, now. Where are you both off to in such a hurry? I told you I’d be giving you a proper welcome into the facility, and that’s just what I intend to do… after you two do me a solid, that is.”

“Screw you, Octavius! Let my friend go!” 42 roars, his mask seemingly projecting his voice much louder than it actually was. “I’ve got this whole place rigged with explosives and they’re ready to blow at any moment now!”

It's a bluff, but Gwen prays to the universe that the Doctor buys it.

Doc Ock feigns shock. “My goodness! What a couple of rowdy young kids you are! I think someone ought to teach you two some… manners,” he growls, advancing quickly in 42’s direction and keeping a tight grip on Gwen’s arms.

“Prowler, listen to me... just go!” Gwen pleads with 42, swinging and kicking uselessly in the air as Doc Ock parries 42’s own blows with his other tentacles.

“Not happening!” 42 grunts. He narrowly dodges a knife-like tentacle strike to his head.

It was no use. The two were already locked in a battle to the death, and there was nothing that she could say to possibly change their minds.

They waltzed around the area until they found themselves in the middle of the lobby, still exchanging blows.

“Well, isn’t this precious! How sweet,” the Doctor comments snidely. He swings Gwen up into the air and slams her down onto a desk, splintering it into pieces and making her shout in pain. “The girl doesn’t want to leave the boy, the boy doesn’t want to leave the girl…” He pins her down with a tentacle around her neck.

“Gross,” Gwen mutters, still working at using her strength to free herself from the Doctor’s vice-like grip, wood splinters digging into her back.

“It’s all so sentimental, it could make me weep! How about this,” he shoots out a tentacle and wraps it around 42’s torso suddenly, trapping his arms by his sides and bringing everyone closer together. “I’ll make you both a deal; you hand me my data and agree to be my useful test subjects. You’ll both be kept alive as long as you obey my every whim! Or I’ll kill you both! How’s that sound?”

42 scoffs, still struggling against his restraints. “Sounds terrible. How about you let us go and we kick your ass instead?”

The Doctor lets out a loud, long laugh. “My dear boy, that sounds even worse!”

Gwen takes the opportunity of the small distraction to hook her legs onto the tentacle steadily planning to choke the life out of her, and hangs on for dear life. The Doctor feels her using his own appendage as leverage, and whips back around to her.

“What in the world do you think you’re d-- AGH!”

She remembers what her friend Hobie Brown taught her during a riot in his dimension.

The anarchists and Hobie's own little Spider Band drove a group of cops away from a squatter's village somewhere in Southwark once on Earth-138 before, and when she was apprehended by one of the big oafs, she was quickly taught how to use an arm bar to effectively escape his grasp and continue the fight.

She attempts it here and with a bit more concentrated strength...

Success!

Gwen manages to pry the evil tentacle off of her neck and begins to tie it into knots as it flails around, taking her on a joyride of a lifetime.

She blocks strikes from the arm, as if trying to wrangle an aggravated cobra in mid-air, grabbing its snapping claw and holding on.

42 also took a page out of her playbook and quickly seized his opportunity; he managed to shoot out another one of the zappy-rockets he keeps in his gauntlets, hitting Doc Ock’s evil face and getting the villain to drop him due to the electrical shocks.

“Do that again, man! But aim at his arms next time!” Gwen calls over to 42, who’s now quickly weaving and dodging the vengeful tentacles all trying to get back at him.

They snap, gnash, and 42 even swears they hiss at him at some point while he waits for his gauntlets to cool down, buying him some time. He makes attempts at grabbing them back when he can and attempting to crush them between his claws, blocking them most other times.

The sounds of metal striking against metal ring out throughout the spacious lobby area once more.

Gwen is still stuck on the bucking bronco that is Doc Ock’s upper right tentacle and not showing any signs of letting go. She manages to finally connect her feet to a stone pillar as the Doc passes it trying to chase down his escaped captor.

She sticks to it and uses that as an opportunity to yank at Doc Ock’s tentacle with all of her might in the other direction and send the Doctor flying along with it.

“Aaagh!!” He shouts. The man is slammed onto the ground hard and rolls several feet away, moaning in pain.

Gwen looks at the severed tentacle in her grasp, now laying limp like a sad, wet noodle. She hadn't realized she even used so much of her strength to rip it out of his node like that. She drops down from the pillar and tosses the hated thing aside.

42 comes up to her, panting, nodding at her in approval.

“Goddamn, Gwendy. Nice one!” He remarks, bumping her on the shoulder before engaging something on his gauntlets that caused every nook and cranny of it to glow a bright purple. “I’m ending this now, we’ve been in here for far too long!”

He then crouches down, steadying himself. Gwen follows his lead, also equally tired and definitely just as over it as he is.

They both take a running leap into the air, 42 flying forward with his claws extended like he usually did, Gwen leaping into the air with both of her wrists extended in front of her, ready to finally let the last of her web fluid hold down the Octopus for as long as they needed to ensure their eventual escape.

They were so close to descending on the mad doctor and finishing this fight for good, or at least incapacitating him for the time being when…

42 suddenly yelped in pain and immediately crumpled onto the ground, his body skidding a little ways away from Doctor Octopus.

He didn’t get back up.

Gwen was bewildered. “Mi-- Prowler?! Oh, god!”

She recovered quickly and shot a web out to the ceiling instead, narrowly avoiding a vengeful tentacle swiping through the air at her violently. She noticed blood on one of his tentacles, the same one he used to lash out at 42!

Damn it all to hell!

Gwen swings around a pillar to put some distance between herself and her foe, but hated being out of sight to keep an eye on her friend. She opted to stick onto the side of one of these huge pillars and assess the situation from there.

The Doctor pushes himself off the ground and slowly rises to stand. He wears an evil grimace on his aging face, clutching his head. He takes his goggles off of his face and tosses them to the side, rage blazing away in the pupils of his eyes which was visible even from where Gwen was perched.

“No more games,” the Doctor grits out, gathering up his strength to pick up 42’s unconscious body up off of the ground and shake him around like a ragdoll. “You want him alive? You come to me instead. Let's see if you can manage to do that!”

And just like that, the Doctor uses his remaining tentacles to climb back up the mezzanine from the floor below and disappears around a corner, carrying a limp Prowler along with him.

Gwen panics.

“No!!” She shouts, pushing herself off the pillar and using her webs to rocket towards the entrance that Doc Ock just disappeared into.

The only things on her mind were friend, hurt, could die, have to keep up!

Every nerve inside of her body was lit up to a thousand degrees, her only focus being 42 and nothing else. It could very well have been a trap that she was falling into at that moment, but she really couldn’t have cared less.

The only things flashing through her mind as she gave chase down the long, winding corridors of the facility in her attempt to keep up with the monster kidnapping her friend were the memories of her own late best friend, Peter Parker of Earth-65.

The events of that fateful night in her school continued to pump away in her mind just as the blood pumped through her veins while she made her way back into the maze of the back halls.

Gotta take down that lizard, she remembered thinking before swinging down onto the scene to save her classmates.

She remembered every single blow she dealt to what she thought was a villain, but really turned out to be her bestest friend in the world whose science experiment had gone horribly awry.

She remembered his beat up face. She remembered…

She remembered...

She skidded around a corner and promptly halted. The sheer horror alone over what she saw smacked her like a wall of bricks.

Here, they had accessed a hallway which had a door at the end. Gwen saw the telltale sign plastered onto it: it was the door that led to the roof.

The Doctor was angrily wrenching it open with his tentacles to get past the emergency locks. If he got to the roof with her friend… there was no telling what he would do to the kid if she didn’t reach them in time…

And she just couldn’t let that happen!

Instead of following the be-tentacled evil-doer on his heels, Gwen decided to make a huge gamble and escape through a sealed window instead. From there, she could use the tiny bit of web fluid she still had in her web shooters and get to the roof faster than him.

Taking a breath, she spun on her heels and dived into the nearest room. She threw herself onto a panel, fingers digging into the scarce space between the edges and the window seals, summoning her massive strength yet again to accomplish the one feat she needed to right now.

She prayed to every single deity that ever existed out there...

And they answered.

The metal sheet was nothing more than that-- a sheet. It immediately buckled under her hands and crumpled like aluminum, and she tore it right off of its frame, green electricity fizzling and popping out from above.

She threw herself out of the window, crashing shoulder-first into the glass.

Glass shards flew everywhere, sparkling like stars in the night sky as she fell, turning in what seemed like slow-motion in the air to aim herself correctly.

She extended her arms out, took aim… and shot the very last bit of web fluid that she had in her shooters to connect to the edge of the roof.

Thanking every single god out there that ever existed, Gwen flew up to the ledge and sprinted over to the roof access door as quickly as her aching legs could manage.

The door was suddenly torn open by big menacing mechanical tentacles and out came Doc Ock and Miles-42, followed by a few of the Doctor’s own private little goon squad behind him shortly after.

Gwen realized with a start that she was standing on a helipad on top of the huge building, and that the Doctor most likely intended to lead the both of them up here to access his getaway vehicle easier.

But whatever his plan was for the teens, Gwen didn’t intend to let anyone get away now. Bruised, battered, bleeding, sweaty, tired... and with zero web fluid to her name, she still had a lot of fight left in her.

A lot.

“Doc Ock! Put him down!” She roars into the night air, the scene illuminated only by the glow of the full moon hanging overhead. Her breath clouds in front of her.

The Doctor sneers at her, and his henchmen promptly train their guns onto her. “Like there’s a chance in hell! You two have beaten my men unconscious, bombed my greatest creation yet, destroyed one of my beloved appendages, and trashed my most productive facility in the entirety of the New York state! You? I'll kill you just like I should have the second I found you! And then I'll end your little boyfriend's life, too.”

“Not my boyfriend!” Gwen throws back as she breaks into a run, dodging and weaving bullets shot at her and somersaulting over to them to put the remaining backup out of commission.

She fights them all viciously, much in the same way 42 did whenever it came time to exchange blows.

Despite the chaos of the fight, she never took an eye off of her new friend.

“How dare you ugly buffoons-- the nerve of you all-- kidnapping my friend-- after you guys kidnapped me!” She complained through gritted teeth, letting her anger and frustration out on these bumbling idiots with every punch thrown and every kick delivered.

She held nothing back, even snatching a gun out of a henchman’s hands at one point, snapping it in half and whipping him unconscious with the remaining pieces.

“I am so! Over! This!” She shouted, now dodging the snapping and hissing tentacles of their evil boss.

“Stop now and we can perhaps-- urgh! Perhaps we can come to an agreement!” The Doctor grunts, still daring to trade blows with her as she advances on him, the white lenses of her mask now glowing eerily with rage.

“I don’t want an agreement, you idiot, I want my friend back!”

“Ah!” Doc Ock backs up a bit nervously, heading directly for the roof’s edge. “Well… why didn’t you just say so? I’m sure we can come to an arrangement of some kind, perhaps…” he glances over his shoulder, now that he and his hostage are dangerously close to the edge, “perhaps you can even… get him yourself!”

Here, the Doctor leaps over to the side, narrowly avoiding a fist to the jaw and tossing 42’s still unconscious body into the air… letting him tumble right over the ledge.

"Catch!" He announces brazenly.

42 falls down...

down...

down.

Gwen watches in horror.

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[shrinevandal]

sashaying into the lost fandom 20 years late to the party with my in depth ben linus queer representation theories and my stupid little images and my ship names i made myself acting like i own the place

[inkedbybarnes]

none of it was fake

bucky barnes x avenger!fem!reader

summary: you've been undercover with bucky as husband and wife. upon returning, he seems to have forgotten that it was all pretend.

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: two idiots cluelessly pining for each other. fluff. usage of petnames such as sweetheart, doll, and baby. lowercase writing.

note: hi, babies. how's everyone? this is my first fic in ages, so sorry if it's not my best one. i just wanted something cute ++ this is unedited & not proofread, might fix it laterrr. still hope you'll enjoy this one! xo

dividers made by @firefly-graphics!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“i can't believe your first kiss happened during a mission. an undercover mission!”

wanda huffed, still hung up on the mission you had with bucky weeks ago wherein you had to play pretend as a married couple. there had been a kiss or two during that time, and it felt impossible not to tell your best friend about it when you had been crushing over the soldier for ages.

wanda knew what you felt towards bucky. in fact, she was the only one who knew, or at least the one you shared th information with, and she made sure to ask everything about the mission, even if it took days for her to interrogate you.

“excuse me? that was not my first kiss,” you said defensively, reaching for a cup from the cupboard that you had just opened. “and why are we still talking about this? you and nat already squeezed out every information from me for an entire week.”

“i didn't mean your first first kiss!” she exclaimed, following you around the kitchen as you made yourself a cup of coffee. “you've had a crush on the guy for so long, and the first time you two kiss each other is when you're pretending. that's not how i pictured it at all!”

you had to admit, the mission was sort of a blessing in disguise and a curse at the same time. you were glad to be able to spend time with bucky in ways you've dreamt of, but there was also the horrible reminder that none of it was real. with how avoidant bucky was with you, it was impossible for any of it to happen outside of the mission.

“well, maybe you should stop picturing us doing that sort of stuff. you're way more invested in this than i am, wanda. don't you have your own relationship to think about?” you asked. although you knew she was in a happy relationship with vision, you just wanted her to take a break from all the bucky talk. “when is your man home anyway?”

“my relationship is doing great, so i'm good. i don't need to think of it as much since he gives me everything that i need, and i think of yours because you deserve happiness as well.” she smiled fondly, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “and i'm glad that you asked because this reminded me that vision's arriving with bucky soon.”

“already?” your eyes widened at her statement, completely forgetting that bucky, along with steve, clint, and vision, were coming home today from their mission. “why didn't you tell me sooner!?”

after finishing your mission with bucky two weeks ago, he was immediately sent into another mission which specifically needed him. so, today would technically be the first time you're seeing him again since you last called him your “husband,” which was more nerve-wracking than you expected.

“hey, i'm your best friend, not your alarm.” wanda raised her hands up, defending herself. “and why are you so worried? i can feel your anxiety without needing to be in your head.”

“well, we never talked after.. you know,” you replied, taking a big sip out of your cup. “i know none of it meant anything and that we were just doing our job, but it's the first time i'll be with him normally and not as a pretend married couple. it's kinda awkward, wands.”

“you were able to pretend you didn't like the guy for months, you can do it again for another day.” she answered. “unless you finally tell him what you feel?”

“oh, that? yeah, never happening. i'm not going to risk—”

“there you are, sweetheart.”

there was a collective shocked gasp from both you and wanda, recognizing that voice from behind. except the gasps had different reasons.

you were surprised with his arrival.

wanda was surprised that he casually called you sweetheart.

you turn to find bucky already walking towards you with a smile on his face.

this man never smiles unless he was tasked to do so!

“bucky! you're back!” you awkwardly greeted him.

“yeah, didn't they tell you? i was looking for you when we landed.” he said, pulling you close to him before bending to place a soft kiss on your lips like it was something he'd always done. “you okay, baby? you look pale. did you eat?”

i look pale because wanda is right here with us and you just kissed me while acting like we're dating!

“um, yeah, i'm fine. i'm fine,” you answered, gently pulling yourself away from his arms before he could wrap them around you completely. “can we talk? privately?”

he frowned, worry etched on his face, but he nodded and squeezed your arm softly. “of course. where do you wanna talk, doll?”

“anywhere where wanda isn't there.” you said lightheartedly, throwing a sharp glance at wanda who finally understood what you wanted her to do.

“oh! right, right. i'm sorry, you guys can stay here. i have um..” she paused, thinking of a reason to say. “i have to look for vision anyway. we're supposed to watch a movie together. bye!”

and just like that, wanda was gone and you were left alone with bucky in the kitchen.

before you could speak, bucky asked you first. “what's the matter, doll?”

“what's the matter?” you echoed in a higher tone. “what was that all about?”

“what are you talking about?” he asked, seemingly confused.

“you kissed me, bucky, like it was nothing. then you keep calling me these nicknames.” you reminded him. “we're back home, not in los angeles in our fake house that we used as a fake couple.”

bucky took a step back when he realised his actions, now finding it hard to look at you. “i.. i'm sorry. i completely forgot. i just.. i wasn't thinking. i got used to how we were before,” he mumbled, still finding the right words to say. “did i make you uncomfortable?”

“no, but you made me confused,” you replied. “i'm guessing you got used to how we acted as a fake married couple, but you were gone for another mission. how are you still stuck with the old routine we had?”

“because that's all i could think about,” he answered, now staring at you. “while you're back here in the tower, completely done with our mission, i was thrown back into another one, having only you in my head to pull me back up from the fatigue.”

“you're telling me that you kept thinking about us even when you were gone? why?”

“haven't you?”

“is this a trick question?”

“it's a question to find out whether you like me too or not.”

“you.. you like me?” you blinked. “that's impossible.”

“how on earth is that impossible?”

“because you're always so cold and grumpy around me,” you answered. “i think you're just confused with all the acting we've done, bucky. you don't like me.”

“i was supposed to go on that mission with sharon, not you.” he exhaled. “she volunteered to do it, so she was initially picked. i tried getting out of it, but i had advantages that they needed for the mission to go smoothly. so, i agreed, but in one condition.”

“what was it?” you whispered.

“that you should be my partner,” he answered quickly. “ask me why.”

your heart pounded. “why?”

“because i wanted an excuse to act the way i've always wanted to. i wasn't cold or grumpy because i didn't like you, i just didn't want to scare you.” bucky explained, his hand reaching out for yours. “god, doll. figuring out whether you like me or not has got to be the hardest mission i had to deal with. so do me a favour and get me out of this misery.”

once your lungs found a bit of oxygen again, you finally spoke. “what you said.. you mean it?”

bucky nodded. “every word.”

“well, i like you too.” you tried to bite back a huge smile. “for some time now, actually. wanda will eventually tell you all about my obsession with you. i can't believe we were both worrying for the wrong things.”

“your obsession with me, huh?” he asked cockily, a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“really? i said all that and that's what caught your attention?”

“can't help it. i've been obsessed with you for a long time now as well.” his eyes crinkled at the corners, a little smile gracing his lips while his arm slipped around your waist.

your eyes peeked up at him through your lashes. “does this make it real now?”

“do you want it to be?”

“you're really asking me that?” your chest rumbled. “of course i do.”

“then let's make it real.”

bucky watched you intensely for a few seconds as if he wanted to frame this exact moment before licking his lips and leaning down. you suck a breath, eyes closing as you felt his soft lips meet yours.

you never realised how much you've grown familiar with his touch and affection since your time together as a fake couple.

except this time, none of it was fake.

should we see their time in los angeles as an undercover married couple? 👀

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌