#i’m adding ‘write a fic for them’ to my to-do list. it is one of many fic ideas i suddenly am having and needing to write.

[flickerintwilights]

(*slides onto main with my niche progression fantasy book fandom*) listen why I’ve become so gay for thelys after eotw is just like. the AA1 flashback shows therin sacrificing herself for ria and the others. she tells them to go, to run, and she faces vaelien alone. (and for the first and last time, she falls.) that was there before eotw, and I assumed, to stay as close to our therin crumbs as possible, that it meant therin was dutiful and serious and kind and selfless, a guardian, a protector. (and she loved ria selys. that was never in doubt.)

and then I read eotw, and the smiling sword saint happened, this beautiful piece of shit with sharp words and uncaringly rough edges and the capacity to tear apart a landmass with a motion of her lips, who was glad to hear that she ended in a two-sun blaze of glory, who was eager for a good fight and fully confident she would win because she always does. because there are blades in her breath and in her skin.

and she wielded a sword with a handle of white stone. she never transitioned from the body she was born in, the one she shouldn’t have had. the sword of her rival-killer was marked with golden runes for every life it took. he stood in part shadow.

so she was therin.

and that changed things. that meant that this fucking asshole was the person who stayed behind and gave her life to give the people she cared about a chance. this was the person who held ria close and ran her fingers through her hair. this was who loved her.

[caelum-in-the-avatarverse]

Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available. 

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community. 

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company? 

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists. 

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom 

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

-

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits. 

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people. 

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it. 

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Glasses | Spencer Reid x reader

Summary: Spencer shows up in new glasses and it awakens some new feelings for your fellow BAU agent. 

A/N: I wrote this a month ago procrastinating studying for my exam 4 on Tuesday after I saw this GIF and finally finished it tonight. so here it is - hope you enjoy! this is NOT proofread. Sorry for any mistakes.  

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

**Aye Warning: this is PG 13 - little raunchy at the end * 

You and your fellow agents sat around the round table in the conference room. A new case had come to light, JJ gathering you all before you even had time to sit down at your desk. Fresh coffee sat in front of you and just the smell brought comfort. You glanced around the table, missing one of your agents. Spencer. Usually he beat you to work every morning, reprimanding and teasing you about it. 

“If you’d drink the coffee here instead of stopping every morning on your way to work, you’d actually be on time and beat me here.” Spencer teases following you through the glass double doors. He was in his usual work attire - slacks and a button up. His hair a curly mess. His messenger bag hung over his shoulder. 

You turned around to face him, walking backwards a few steps and made a face, mocking him, “I’m not drinking that tap water you all call coffee.” You saluted your coffee cup toward him, “I will always be late for a nice, fresh cup of coffee.” 

“Where’s Spencer?” You asked, sipping on your coffee and flipping open the case file JJ tossed in front of you. 

She took a moment to glance around the room, perplexed Spencer wasn’t here yet. “I actually don’t know.” She peeked out the window overlooking the rest of the office, “Usually he beats you here.”

JJ went on with the meeting, turning on the TV screen to show pictures of the crime scene and now the next missing and possible victim. 

“Sorry I’m late-” Spencer says, out of breath as he enters the room in a rush. “I had an appointment and it ran later than expected -” He tosses his bag on the ground with a thud, sitting down and oblivious to the surprised looks from his fellow agents. 

Glasses. Spencer was wearing glasses. Your jaw dropped at this new sight, the pen you were chewing on, hanging against your lips. You wouldn’t disagree, Spencer Reid was a very attractive man. I mean you’d admitted that multiple times, but he was also your coworker. A relationship with a coworker could create a rocky atmosphere for the BAU.

He always been an eye candy to look at, however, this new look tossed you over the edge, changing something inside you. You needed him. His touch, his lips against yours. You were overwhelmed with such affection and adoration. Where was this coming from? Immediately your mind went dirty, your face flushed with embarrassment at having those thoughts, scared someone else could hear them. 

Spencer met your eyes from across the table, a new twinkle in his eye, “What did I miss?” He’d noticed the effect he had on you, he could read you like a book. 

You couldn’t even look him the eye. God what was this man doing to you. A wave of warmth was felt through your body; spreading to your core as new fantasies come to light. A dark mahogany desk... Spencer in a button up, loosening the tie around his neck. Oh god. You sat up quickly as if you were just touched by a hot poker and composed yourself, “JJ was just telling us about the last victims who were found-” Your eyes pleadingly glanced at JJ and the screen behind her. 

“Right anyways-” 

~ 

Everyone had settled into their seats on the jet and you stood, slipping behind the curtain to grab a water bottle from the mini fridge. When you stood back up, you were met with Spencer’s chest, “Shit--Spencer.” 

“Did I scare you?” He smiles in triumph, “You’re so jumpy.” He tilted his head as he observed the change in you. 

You stepped out of the way as Spencer reached for mini fridge, fumbling for an excuse. “Watched a scary movie last night.” 

He hums in response turning to face you, the small countertop digging into your back as you tried to put enough space between you and Spencer. “Which movie?” He glances back over his shoulder, checking the curtain is closed. 

You glanced around him as well, wondering what he was looking for, but finally meeting his eyes, “oh you know.. I think it was scream?” 

He closes the space between the two of you, slipping his hands behind you and  placing them firmly on the countertop behind you. 

“Spencer!” A quiet gasp escaped your lips as his body pressed against yours. 

“Shhh...” He places his index against your lips as he leans in close, the smell of his aftershave and minty breath hitting you in a wave. His breath is hot against your neck as his lips dance along your neck. 

Your entire body submits to his touch. oh god. 

“Wouldn’t want them to know what we’ve been up to these last couple months, now would we?” 

Comments, likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! x 

This tag list is an old one. 

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17​ , @la-vie-en-amour1 , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant)  , @bluerose512 , @lolychu​ , @varsityalthete

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep , @obxrafe , @abbiesthings , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

[sagesolsticewrites]

Hi! I’d like to request a John “Bucky” Egan fic where he tries several times to flirt with the reader, but the reader is super oblivious about it and just thinks he’s being nice. It becomes something everyone on base talks about and gets invested in. Maybe other people set up a scheme to get them together or make the reader realize how he feels. Idk, just something funny and cute like that ig 😁

Thank you so much for requesting, Nonnie, I’ve been having so much fun with these Masters of the Air requests! I loved getting to write for our best boy Bucky 🥰 Shoutout to @blurredcolour’s Trust fic (an absolute masterpiece, check it out y’all!) for helping with the writers block on this one 😅 (Reminder that requests are open! Feel free to check out some of my favorite prompt lists in my pinned post 😊)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Oblivious

“There’s my favorite nurse!”

You rolled your eyes at the phrase that announced John “Bucky” Egan’s every visit to sickbay.

“Hello, Major,” you said, turning to greet him with a mock-exasperated smile.

Bucky clutched a hand to his heart as if wounded, a hurt expression on his face. “How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Bucky, sweetheart?”

“At least a few more times, Major,” you reply, unable to hide a smile at the usual volley of friendly banter.

Major John Egan had been unusually friendly to you since the first moment he’d sauntered in to introduce himself to the medical staff as Air Exec. Your colleagues had blushed afterward and playfully insisted that he had paid you more attention than the others, but you just laughed and shook your head, insisting that he was just being nice.

This visit was simply another instance of Bucky being friendly to you; well, that and Harry Crosby’s airsickness had gotten the better of him again and he was checking up on the navigator.

You stepped aside as Bucky approached Harry’s cot, ready to update him on the goings-on since the last mission had returned.

He threw you a kind smile before perching on the stool next to Harry.

“How’s my girl treatin’ you, Crosby?”

Harry happily told him how the base had gotten a new shipment of airsickness pills and you had slipped him a spare box for his own personal use, and Bucky’s smile grew wider and wider.

You were glad to see how happy he was at the news that his friend was feeling better, and you quietly excused yourself to tend to the other patients.

Bucky sighed as you walked away.

“She still hasn’t picked up on it, huh?”

“No, Croz, she hasn’t.” sighed Bucky, “She thinks I’m just bein’… nice or friendly or something. Which I am!” He added hurriedly, “But I just…I like her so much. I wish she’d notice.”

“She will, buddy,” Harry replied, with a comforting pat on his friend’s hand, “She will.”

Bucky headed out after a few more minutes of conversation, giving you a wink and a smile as he walked past your station.

“Bucky visited again, huh?” Rebecca, one of your fellow nurses, sidled up next to you with a teasing grin.

“Yes, Major Egan came by to visit Lieutenant Crosby,” you replied, putting emphasis on their ranks.

“You’re sure that’s all he was here for? Somehow he never shows up here without an excuse to see you…”

“He’s just being nice, Becca,” you insisted, “You know how these soldier boys are.”

“But he’s always—”

“Becca,” you cut her off as gently as you can, “I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”

“Alright, alright,” she held her hands up in surrender, “Bucky is an off-limits topic, gotcha.”

The conversation turned to the current hot gossip, and you idly chimed in when it seemed appropriate, losing yourself in your routine tasks.

Rebecca broke off to check on Harry again, narrowing her eyes as she noticed Harry watching you.

“Something Nurse L/N can help you with, Crosby?”

He jumped, gaze darting to Rebecca as she approached.

“No ma’am, I just…”

He scrambled to think of some excuse, but all he could come up with was: “I’m trying to think of some way to get Y/N to notice Bucky!”

Rebecca blinked in surprise, then plopped down onto the stool next to his bed, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Oh thank goodness it’s not just me! He’s been at it for months but the poor girl’s just so oblivious…”

“I keep telling him to just talk to her like a normal person, but he insists on dancing around it!” Harry instantly agreed, glad to have someone besides Jean to talk to about this. “He’s been so distracted lately. If he doesn’t do something soon, I’m worried it might start to affect his flying.”

Rebecca pressed her lips into a thin line, twisting a strand of hair worriedly.

After a few moments of quiet, she spoke up again, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’ve got an idea.”

———

“Hey Bucky,” Harry said at breakfast the next morning, “I’m gonna pop down to the infirmary to visit Winks, wanna come with?”

Bucky quickly agreed— he’d been meaning to check on Winks yesterday as well as Croz, but got caught up in… well, you.

As they entered, Bucky made a beeline for Winks while Harry caught Rebecca’s eye and gave a subtle nod, which she returned, signaling her part of the plan was complete.

She had removed the step stool you always used from one of the supply closets, now hidden under one of the cots nearby. When you weren’t able to reach something on one of the higher shelves, well…

Good thing Bucky was so tall.

“Y/N, would you mind grabbing some more bandages for me? My station’s running low.”

“Sure thing, Becca!” You called, stepping away from your current station to check the supply closet.

“Becca…” your confused voice called from the closet, “Do you know where the stepstool went?”

“It’s not there?” She called back, sounding equally confused. “Let’s see, um…”

She scanned the room, putting on a good show of looking for someone who could help.

“Oh, Bucky! Would you mind helping Nurse L/N grab something from the supply closet for me?”

“No problem, Becca,” came his reply, accompanied with his trademark winning smile as he nodded to Winks and made his way over to the supply closet.

It was much smaller than he’d anticipated, and barely half a foot was all that separated you as he asked, “Alright, what do ya need, sweethea—”

The pet name was cut off by the sound of the supply closet door closing.

And locking.

You lunged for the handle as Bucky reached up to turn on the single lightbulb, both of you calling out in confusion.

“Becca! What?”

“C’mon, guys, this isn’t funny!”

Harry’s voice came through the door, clear and determined.

“Just tell her how you feel, Bucky! Your tactic clearly isn’t working!”

“I— what?” You turned to Bucky, hoping he knew what in the world they were talking about.

Bucky hesitated, but seeing as it seemed he had no choice…

“Well this isn’t… exactly how I wanted to do it, but…” He took a deep breath, twisting his fingers together in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety, “I really like you, doll. I’ve liked you since I first laid eyes on you. And I’ve tried every way I know how to tell you, but nothin’ worked, so…” He gestured around at the supply closet, “I guess it came to this? Which wasn’t my idea, by the way. Just for the record. I would never…”

His voice faltered, and you realized just how close you were to him. You didn’t remember moving forward. You were just suddenly there, so close the two of you were almost breathing each other’s air.

“You… you like me?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Doll, you think I call every pretty girl workin’ here my favorite nurse?”

You flushed at the compliment.

“I thought you were just being nice, I didn’t…”

“I mean, I was bein’ nice,” He said with a shrug, grinning, “Just not quite in the way you were thinking.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked down to your mouth, and being this close to you, he couldn’t hide the bob of his throat as he swallowed nervously.

“I’d, uh. I’d really like to kiss you right now, if that’s alright with you, sweetheart.”

You nodded slowly, “I think I’d really like that, Major Egan.”

“It’s Bucky, sweetheart,” he murmured softly as he leaned in, capturing your lips.

You may or may not have spent more than a few lonely nights in your bunk imagining what it would be like to kiss Major John Egan.

Your imaginings were nothing compared to reality.

This was magic unlike anything you could have dreamed.

Your arms wound around his neck as his wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You toyed with the dark curls at the nape of his neck as he slanted his mouth against yours, deepening the kiss. Needing to be closer, you tried to step towards him, but merely succeeded in pressing him back against the shelves.

Ordinarily you would apologize, but something like a thrill ran up your spine when you felt him grin into the kiss as his back hit the shelves, knocking rolls of bandages and boxes of gauze onto the floor.

His right hand moved to cup your cheek, keeping your lips connected as his other hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as you arched into him.

You could still feel him grinning as he murmured against your lips, “Knew you were feisty under that good girl act.”

“Bucky,” you whined softly as he pulled away from you, chest heaving.

“Oh, now she uses my name,” he teased breathlessly, bumping his nose playfully against yours.

The two of you flinched as sunlight spilled into the dim closet, a harsh change from the dingy yellow lightbulb you had become accustomed to.

Harry and Rebecca stood in the doorway, wearing twin smug grins.

“Looks like our work here is done,” Becca said, shooting you a wink as she bid farewell to Harry with a two-fingered salute, “Pleasure working with you, Lieutenant Crosby.”

“Same to you, Nurse Carter,” Harry replied, and he turned back to the two of you, a genuine smile on his face.

“About time, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky waved off his friend’s I told you so, “You gonna congratulate me or what?”

“Congratulations,” came Harry’s mock-put-out reply, accompanied by a genuinely congratulatory clap on his arm. “You got a good one. And it only took months of unsuccessful flirting—”

“Hey, I got her in the end, didn’t I?” He squeezed you closer, grinning down at you.

Your lipstick was all over his mouth, and you’re sure the Victory Red on your own lips was in no better shape.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care, however, as he pulled you in for a tender kiss.

Which you broke for a moment to point out, “He isn’t wrong, you know, it was months of unsuccessful—”

Your teasing was promptly cut off with a “shush” mumbled against your lips as Bucky silenced you with a kiss.

[rootedinrevisions]

Cowboys & Angles (Kinktober 2024: Day 3)

SUMMARY: After years of playful flirting and a deep-rooted friendship, you and Tyler Owens find yourselves crossing the line between friends and lovers when he returns home for the fall. What starts as a fun, teasing night at the local bar quickly turns into something more when Tyler finally takes his shot. But as feelings are laid bare, both of you must confront what this means for your relationship—because for Tyler, you've always been more than just a friend, and he’s ready to prove it if you let him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: When I first decided to do Kinktober, I was planning on doing a bunch of drabbles (my goal is for them to be at or under 1k words). But kind of like with yesterday's, as I was writing this one it kind of just took off and I kept going and now here we are at over 5k words! So I think Kinktober is probably going to be a mix of both shorter drabbles and longer fics! I will also be mixing up characters/fandoms so Kinktober will have a mix of my Glen Powell characters as well as some WWE/Wrestling, and I may be introducing a few new characters I haven't written for yet too!

PROMPT: "I'm already dying to take you right now. Don't tempt me."

KINK: Cowboy Hat / Cowboy Hat Rule

WARNINGS: Teasing. 18+ SMUT. (P in V Sex.)

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

TAG LIST: @omgbrianab I @shanimallina87 I @fanficmom94 I @smoothdogsgirl I @djs8891 @saucy-sassy-sparkly  I  @alipap3  I  @dudinhastuff I  @lunatygerqueen  I  @hookslove1592

If you would like to be added to my Tag List please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

The bar was quieter than usual for a Saturday night. The usual hum of conversation was replaced by a few scattered groups of locals enjoying their drinks in the dim, amber glow of the overhead lights. You leaned on the counter, wiping down a glass as the front door swung open with a faint creak. The familiar sound made your heart jump before you even saw who it was.

Tyler Owens.

He strode in with that easy confidence, his tall frame filling the doorway for a second before he glanced around the room, spotting you instantly. A slow grin spread across his face, and he tipped his cream-colored Stetson in your direction before making his way toward the bar. You hadn’t seen him in months, not since he’d been off chasing storms across the country, but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Well, if it isn’t Tyler Owens, the Tornado Wrangler himself,” you teased as he reached the bar.

“Back in town for a little while. Thought I’d drop by and see what kind of trouble you’ve been getting into.” His voice was smooth, that southern drawl rolling off his tongue like honey, and you couldn’t help but smile.

Amber, the other bartender, had been subtly hinting that she could use the extra tips if you wanted to take the rest of the night off for the last half hour. The bar wasn’t too busy, so you figured now was as good a time as any to give her the extra tips and catch up with Tyler. Setting the glass down, you unhooked your apron.

“Amber, you’re up. I’m clocking out,” you called over your shoulder. She practically beamed at you in response, already moving to take over.

Sliding onto the stool next to Tyler, you felt a familiar warmth wash over you—not from the two drinks you had in front of you, but from the easy energy that always existed between the two of you. You’d known Tyler since high school, and while your friendship had always teetered on the edge of something more, nothing had ever come of it. Flirting was just part of your dynamic.

“So, you’re back home, huh? Storm season finally winding down?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“Yeah, things are quietin’ down. I thought I’d stick around town for a bit. Y appreciate the peace and quiet without me stirring things up?” He teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Oh, sure. It’s been so peaceful without you around,” you replied with a playful eye roll, though the truth was you’d missed him more than you wanted to admit.

After another round of drinks, your inhibitions softened but far from impaired, you reached out and plucked the Stetson right off Tyler’s head. The hat had always been his signature look, and you couldn’t resist the urge to mess with him a little. You placed it on your own head, adjusting it with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You know there’s a rule about wearin’ a cowboy’s hat, don’t you?” His voice was low, but there was something underlying it now, a challenge.

You feigned innocence, leaning in slightly. “Oh? And what rule might that be?”

His eyes darkened ever so slightly, his gaze flicking to your lips for just a second before he leaned back in his chair, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. 

“Never mind,” he said, his voice huskier now, “you wouldn’t be interested.”

But you couldn’t resist pushing him just a little further. You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to a whisper only he could hear. “Oh, I know the rule, Tyler. I just wanted to see what you’d do about it.”

There it was—the shift. His expression hardened ever so slightly, but that teasing smirk was still there, hanging on the edge of something more. He didn’t say anything, just gave you that look, the one that always sent a spark straight through you.

Without breaking eye contact, you stood and made your way toward the corner of the bar where the old mechanical bull sat. It hadn’t been used much recently, but it was still in working order. Tyler’s eyes followed you, curiosity piqued. You glanced over your shoulder, the Stetson still perched on your head as you grinned mischievously.

“Start her up,” you called to one of the other employees, hopping onto the mechanical bull. You adjusted your seat, settling in comfortably as the machine started to hum to life.

Tyler's gaze was locked on you now, his arms folded across his chest, leaning back in his chair as if to say, Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.

The bull started slow, rocking gently, but you handled it like a pro. With each buck, your eyes stayed locked on Tyler’s, never wavering. You could see the way his jaw tightened slightly, how his hands gripped the beer bottle in his hands every so tightly as the intensity of the ride increased. His hat sat firmly on your head, and you couldn’t help but grin as you imagined the thoughts running through his mind.

Finally, the bull jerked sharply, and you were thrown off, landing on your feet in a flurry of laughter and adrenaline. Without missing a beat, you sauntered back over to where Tyler sat, your steps light and confident.

“So,” you teased, pulling his hat off your head and spinning it around on your finger, “what was that rule again?”

Tyler’s eyes were darker now, his gaze intense as he reached out, plucking the hat from your hand and setting it back on his own head. He stood up slowly, towering over you, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, lips close to your ear.

“I’m already dyin’ to take you right now,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t tempt me.”

Your heart raced at his words, your playful bravado wavering for a split second as the tension between you thickened. But you couldn’t help yourself—you were never one to back down from a challenge. You met his gaze head-on, your lips curving into a daring smile.

“Well,” you whispered back, voice full of teasing confidence, “maybe I’m countin’ on that.”

The playful tension hung thick in the air, the space between you and Tyler charged with unspoken desire. His hat back on his head, Tyler’s eyes lingered on yours, darker than before, filled with something new—something inevitable. He stepped closer, and before you could say anything, his hand gently cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, the kiss firm yet unhurried, like he’d been waiting for this moment for longer than either of you cared to admit. Your body responded instinctively, leaning into him, one hand gripping the edge of his flannel shirt as the heat of the kiss spread through you. The years of playful back-and-forth, of near-misses and flirtatious glances, melted away into this one moment of pure, electric connection.

Around you, the few regulars left in the bar had noticed. A couple of whistles and cheers rang out, a playful acknowledgment of what everyone in your small town had suspected for years. But their noise faded into the background as you ignored them completely, lost in the feel of Tyler’s lips on yours.

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb still gently stroking your cheek. “You good?” he asked, his voice a husky whisper, eyes searching yours for confirmation.

You nodded, breathless but smiling. “More than good.”

He gave you that signature grin, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. Without another word, he grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the door. The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, the warmth of the bar replaced by the crisp breeze of the fall evening. Tyler didn’t let go of your hand as he led you to his truck, parked just out front, the red Dodge pickup outfitted in storm-chasing gear that you’d ridden in countless times before. But this time felt different.

Tyler opened the passenger door, turning to you with an extended hand to help you up. His touch was gentle, but there was a quiet intensity in the way he guided you into the seat. Once you were settled, he made his way around the front of the truck, climbing into the driver’s side and turning the engine over with a low rumble.

As he shifted the truck into gear, he glanced over at you, his lips curving into a smirk. “So, where to? Your place, or mine?”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yours.”

The smirk deepened into a grin. “Good choice.”

With that, he pulled out onto Main Street, the quiet stretch of road that ran through the heart of your small town. The familiar sights blurred past as the truck rumbled westward, toward the outskirts where Tyler’s place sat nestled among the trees. You leaned back in the seat, the thrill of the night coursing through you, heart racing as anticipation built with every passing mile.

The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it only made the air more electric. Tyler’s hand rested on the gearshift, his knuckles brushing yours every so often, the simple contact sending a rush of warmth through you. You glanced over at him, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his focus stayed steady on the road, but there was an undeniable tension in his posture, like he was holding himself back.

The drive out to Tyler’s place was familiar but felt brand new in the charged atmosphere. Every turn in the road, every familiar landmark, passed by in a blur until finally, the gravel road leading up to his house came into view. The soft crunch of tires on gravel filled the quiet as he slowed the truck, pulling up beside the small, rustic house you’d been to more times than you could count.

But tonight, everything felt different. Tonight, it felt like everything had been leading to this moment.

Tyler parked the truck and turned off the engine, the silence of the night settling in around you as he turned to face you. That smirk was back, but now, there was a fire behind it, his gaze locked on yours as if daring you to make the next move.

Without a word, he opened his door and came around to your side, opening it for you and offering his hand once again. You took it, heart pounding as you stepped down from the truck, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet but still floating on the rush of what was about to happen.

As the door closed behind you, Tyler tugged you gently toward him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you close. His lips found yours again, this time slower, softer, like he was savoring the moment. You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palms.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard in the stillness of the night. His voice was rough, barely more than a whisper, as he asked, “You ready?”

You nodded, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his flannel, your voice soft but steady. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Tyler’s lips brushed against yours one last time before he pulled back, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. You barely had a moment to wonder what he was up to before his hands slid down to your waist, fingers gripping with a possessive but playful strength. 

With a quick, effortless motion, he hoisted you up and over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing. A squeal of surprise escaped your lips as you suddenly found yourself looking at the world upside down, your hands instinctively grabbing onto the back of his flannel to steady yourself. 

“Tyler!” you protested, half-laughing, half-scolding as you kicked your feet, trying to wriggle free. “You’re going to fall if you keep carrying me like this!”

His deep chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against your body as he tightened his hold on you. “You think I can’t handle it?” he teased, his voice laced with humor as he started up the stairs toward his bedroom, his stride steady and sure. “I’ve carried heavier stuff than you during storm season, sweetheart. You’re light work.”

You squirmed again, the sensation of being tossed over his shoulder making you feel both thrilled and embarrassed, but the grin on your face was impossible to hide. “You’re gonna regret it if you drop me!” you warned, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as laughter bubbled up from your chest.

“I’m not dropping you,” he assured, his tone dripping with confidence. “But keep squirming, and I might just have to remind you who’s in charge here.” Tyler just laughed, one arm hooked securely around your legs while his free hand swatted playfully at your ass.

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it. “Oh, please, Tyler. You think you’re so—”

Before you could finish the sentence, he gave your ass another playful smack, the sound echoing off the walls as he continued up the stairs. This one was a little harder than the first. 

“That’s for doubting me,” he quipped, his voice teasingly low, the heat between the two of you rising again despite the lighthearted moment.

You huffed, still trying to act indignant despite the butterflies swarming in your stomach. “Alright, alright! Just get me upstairs in one piece, cowboy.”

He chuckled again, finally reaching the top of the stairs and carrying you effortlessly down the hallway toward his bedroom. The door creaked as he pushed it open with his foot, the room bathed in the soft, dim light of a single lamp in the corner. 

Tyler walked straight to the bed, carefully lowering you down onto the mattress as if he were laying down something precious. Your heart was still racing, your skin flushed from the thrill of it all. You looked up at him, catching your breath as he stood there, grinning like the devil himself. 

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, though the playful glint never left his eyes.

You smiled back, your heart still pounding, but now for a different reason entirely. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quieter, more breathless. “I’m okay.”

Tyler leaned down, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, his touch lingering against your skin for just a moment before he gave you a wink. “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

The playful spark in Tyler’s eyes softened as he leaned over you, his hands resting gently on either side of your body, caging you in without making you feel trapped. His gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of hesitation, but all he found was anticipation. 

Slowly, he lowered his head, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that started soft but deepened with every passing second, the heat between you building once again.

His hands, large and warm, began a slow exploration. He started at your hips, his fingers tracing the curves of your waist before moving up to your sides, sending a shiver through your body. His hands stopped when they reached the bottom of your shirt.

He pulled away from the kiss for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering there. You knew what he was asking without him needing to say it. You nodded, giving him your permission with a soft smile.

Tyler’s lips twitched up in a small, relieved grin as his fingers grabbed the hem of your shirt, tugging it up gently. You lifted your arms to help him, your heartbeat racing as the fabric slid off and hit the floor. The cool air of the room brushed against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat coming from Tyler’s body as he leaned back down, his hands now roaming over your bare skin, igniting every nerve he touched.

Your hands moved up to his chest, and with trembling fingers, you started to undo the buttons of his shirt. As you worked your way down, Tyler’s mouth found the delicate skin of your neck, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your throat. His lips were warm and gentle, but when he bit down lightly, your breath hitched, a small, involuntary sound escaping your lips.

That sound—small but full of need—seemed to drive Tyler wild. His grip on you tightened slightly, his lips continuing their assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and playful bites. Each time his teeth grazed your skin, you couldn’t stop the soft moans that spilled from your mouth, your body arching slightly into him. 

His name escaped your lips in a breathless whisper, barely audible but enough to make him pause for just a second, his breath hot against your skin as he groaned softly.

“You keep making sounds like that, and I’m not gonna be able to control myself,” he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with need. 

His hands slid down your sides again, fingertips skimming the waistband of your jeans, but he paused, giving you time to stop him if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he met your eyes again, waiting for your nod before his fingers deftly began undoing the button and zipper, tugging the denim down over your hips.

You took a deep breath, your fingers still fumbling with the last few buttons of his shirt, finally getting it open enough to slide it off his shoulders. The moment his shirt hit the floor, your hands were on him, running over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your palms. Tyler groaned again, his hands continuing their exploration, mapping every inch of your body as if it were the first time.

His mouth was on your neck again, trailing lower now, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your collarbone and further down. Every touch, every kiss, sent a wave of electricity through you, building a tension in your core that made it hard to think straight. The intimacy between you felt more intense now, the playful teasing giving way to something deeper, something that made your heart race and your breath come faster.

Tyler pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your hips again. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, concern flickering in his eyes despite the heat between you.

You nodded, your voice caught in your throat for a second before you managed to breathe out a soft, “Yeah... more than okay.”

His lips curved into that familiar grin, but there was something different in it now—something softer. He leaned back down, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one filled with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. 

As his hands continued their journey over your skin, you could feel the shift between you, the playfulness melting away into something intimate, something more raw and real.

Tyler’s lips were on yours again, soft but hungry, as his hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, deepening the intensity between you. There was a new urgency in the way he touched you, the last of your clothes falling away, leaving nothing between you but heat and desire. When you finally pulled back to look at him, you noticed that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, tempered by something softer, almost reverent, as he took in the sight of you.

“Your turn,” you whispered, your voice shaky but steady enough to tug at the waistband of his jeans.

Tyler grinned, the playfulness returning for just a moment as he sat back, undoing the button and zipper with quick, fluid motions. You watched as he kicked off his boots and jeans, your eyes following the movements of his hands as he finally tugged off his boxers, leaving him completely bare before you. You couldn’t help but admire the way he moved—every flex of muscle, every shift in his body.

You moved toward him, but Tyler caught you by the waist before you could get too far, flipping the two of you gently so that he was the one lying on the bed beneath you. His grin was still there, but it softened as his hands rested on your hips, pulling you down on top of him.

"Now that’s a view," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin as you straddled him, feeling the warmth of his body beneath you, your bare skin pressed against his.

For a moment, you just hovered there, the tension between you thick and electric. But then Tyler’s hand slid up your spine, his touch gentle yet firm, grounding you in the moment. 

“Before we go any further...” he murmured, his voice low but serious. His eyes met yours, searching. “We need to talk.”

You nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. The chemistry between you was undeniable, but that didn’t mean you were going to be reckless. 

"I’m clean," you said softly, feeling a little breathless as you admitted it. "I’ve been tested."

"Me too," Tyler replied, his voice steady but filled with the same tension that ran through your body. “But...” He gave you a sheepish grin as he reached out, fumbling in the drawer of his nightstand for a moment. His fingers finally closed around what he was looking for, and he pulled out a small foil packet, holding it up between the two of you with a little chuckle. “Just in case.”

You smiled at his awkward fumbling, appreciating the way he was handling this—respectful, but still maintaining that easy, familiar chemistry you had with him. 

“Good thinking,” you teased, watching as he ripped the packet open, his movements still a little clumsy in his eagerness. He rolled the condom onto himself, his eyes never leaving yours. His breath was heavy, and you could feel the tension building again, stronger now that you’d both cleared the air. 

You reached for his Stetson, which had somehow ended up on the bed, and with a grin, you placed it on your head, the brim casting a shadow over your eyes. Tyler’s gaze darkened as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but no words came out.

Slowly, you positioned yourself over him, your legs straddling his hips. His hands came to rest on your thighs, his fingers squeezing lightly as you sank down onto him, a gasp escaping your lips at the sensation. The Stetson tilted slightly on your head, but you didn’t care. All that mattered at that moment was the connection between you and Tyler—the heat, the closeness, the way his hands gripped your hips like you were the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

Tyler let out a groan, his grip tightening as you adjusted to him, your body leaning forward slightly, pressing your chest against his as you both took a moment to breathe. His hand slid up your back again, this time tracing your spine with slow, deliberate strokes that sent shivers through your body. He tilted his head up, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was slow as if he had all the time in the world to savor this moment.

"God, you look so damn good," he whispered against your lips, his voice rough, filled with that raw desire you’d only ever seen glimpses of before.

You smiled, breathless, your forehead resting against his. “Wearing your hat and nothing else?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Mmhm.” Tyler’s hands slid back down to your hips, guiding you as you began to move slowly against him. “You have no idea what you do to me...”

Tyler’s breath hitched as you settled against him, your bodies moving in sync, slow and deliberate, as if the two of you were savoring every second. His hands never left your skin, sliding from your hips to your waist, then down your thighs, like he couldn’t get enough of the feel of you. Each movement sent a shiver up your spine, your body reacting to the way his fingers traced small circles, grounding you in the moment.

The slow rhythm between you grew more intense with every passing second, but Tyler kept his focus on you, his eyes locked on yours, the smirk on his face softened by the emotion behind it. He shifted slightly beneath you, a groan slipping from his lips as he tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you in your movements but still giving you control.

Your breath came in shallow gasps as the sensation built, but you didn’t rush. There was something almost sweet about the way you moved together, like you both understood that this wasn’t just about the physical connection. It was something deeper, something that had been simmering for years between flirty glances, teasing remarks, and late-night conversations.

Tyler leaned up, capturing your lips in another kiss—this one softer, more tender, as if he was trying to tell you something without words. His fingers threaded through your hair, gently tugging, tilting your head back just enough to expose your neck. He pressed his lips to your throat, kissing his way up the sensitive skin there, and you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to every little touch.

You felt his grip on your hips tighten again, pulling you closer, your bodies moving together with more urgency now. The feeling between you was electric, your heart pounding in your chest as his kisses grew more desperate, more hungry. But even in the midst of it, Tyler’s touch remained careful, measured, as if he was constantly checking to make sure you were okay.

You didn’t mean for it to happen but your orgasm hit you faster than you expected. You felt your walls squeezing around him as your thighs started to shake. You let out several moans into Tylers mouth as he bucked his hips up to work you through it.

When you finally broke away from his mouth, breathless, Tyler leaned his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your lower back, holding you close. His eyes searched yours, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence between you—just the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of your hearts.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with concern as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He exhaled, a relieved grin spreading across his face. “Good.” His hands slipped down to your waist again, his grip firm but gentle. “Because I’m not sure I can handle you looking like that in my hat and not lose my damn mind.”

You chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss him again, feeling the way his body responded to the smallest touch. The teasing from earlier was still there, but it was mingled with something else now—a deep sense of care and affection that had always been beneath the surface.

As the tension built between you again, Tyler’s movements became more urgent, more deliberate, and his grip on you tightened in response. His groans were low and quiet, but the sound of them sent a surge of heat through your body, making you move faster, more eagerly, craving every reaction you could pull from him.

Tyler’s hands roamed your back, sliding up your spine and then down again, before settling on your hips once more, guiding you, helping you keep the rhythm even when it became harder to focus as your second orgasm crept closer. His mouth found your neck again, biting down gently in a way that made you gasp, your body arching into him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Every touch, every kiss felt electric, like the two of you had been waiting for this moment for years. And as the intensity reached its peak, you couldn’t help but feel the emotion behind it all—the unspoken bond you shared, the connection that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface of your friendship.

Finally, as the tension broke and the two of you found your release together, Tyler pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you as you collapsed against him. His body was warm and solid beneath you, his heartbeat strong and steady as you both came down from the high of the moment. He held you there, his hands still tracing gentle patterns on your skin, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing as you lay in the quiet intimacy of the aftermath. Tyler shifted slightly, his hand sliding up to brush through your hair again, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“You okay?” he asked again, his voice soft and filled with that familiar concern.

You nodded against him, your body still tingling from the intensity of what had just happened. “Yeah... more than okay,” you murmured, echoing your earlier words.

Tyler chuckled quietly, his arms tightening around you as he pulled you closer. “Good,” he said, his voice warm and filled with affection. “That’s all I ever want... to take care of you.” His fingers trailed along your back in slow, soothing strokes as he held you there, the warmth of his body surrounding you like a cocoon of safety and comfort.

The warmth of Tyler’s body still enveloped you as you lay there, your head resting on his chest, his hand gently running through your hair. The room was quiet now, just the soft sounds of your breathing mixing with the faint creak of the old house settling around you. For a while, neither of you spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air. You could feel Tyler’s steady heartbeat beneath your cheek, and it grounded you, but there was something else—a nagging thought that you couldn’t quite shake.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him. “Tyler...” you began, your voice soft, but tinged with uncertainty.

He looked down at you, his brows furrowing just a little, concern immediately flashing in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “What... what does this mean for us?” you asked, the vulnerability in your voice surprising even you. “I mean, is this... was this just a one-time thing?”

Tyler’s expression softened instantly, and he reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb gently brushing over your skin. 

“A one-time thing?” he repeated, his voice almost incredulous. “Are you kidding?”

You averted your gaze, feeling a little silly for even asking, but Tyler didn’t let you look away. He gently guided your chin back toward him, making sure your eyes met his.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were teenagers,” he said, his voice low but steady, like it was the most natural thing in the world to admit. “I just... I didn’t think I had a shot in hell with someone like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in slowly. “Someone like me?” you echoed, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the serious turn of the conversation. “Tyler, you make it sound like I’m some kind of angel.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb still brushing along your cheek. “Well, that’s what you are to me,” he said with a grin. “An angel. I mean, come on... a guy like me? A cowboy who’s been out chasing storms and kicking up dust for most of his life?” His eyes sparkled with humor, but there was something deeper behind them—something genuine. “I didn’t think I deserved a shot with someone as good as you.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at his words. “Cowboys and angels...” you teased, the playfulness returning to your voice. “Seems like a pretty good combination to me.”

Tyler laughed, the sound warm and rich, and he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Turns out, they go real well together.”

For a moment, you both lay there in the quiet, the weight of his confession settling over you. It felt like everything had shifted between you, but in the best possible way. The years of friendship, the playful flirting, the unspoken connection—it had all led to this, to a moment that felt as natural as it was surprising.

You smiled up at him, the worry that had been gnawing at you now completely gone. “So... we’re doing this?” you asked softly, your hand resting over his heart.

Tyler grinned, his eyes full of warmth as he leaned in, kissing you tenderly. “Yeah,” he whispered against your lips. “We’re doing this.”

And with that, the uncertainty melted away, replaced by the deep, undeniable certainty that this was where you were meant to be—wrapped up in the arms of the man who had loved you all along, even when you hadn’t realized it. The cowboy and his angel, right where they belonged.

[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[httpsdana]

could u do a gavi fic with prompt 7 and 9 pleaseee? and they are just up till 5am in the morning, with the sun starting to rise and he misses training because he falls asleep..something like that? i loove ur fics (especially ur gavi ones) thank you so much!!💞💞

Midnight Cookies~Pablo Gavi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

in honor of our golden boy coming back, heres a cute fic abt him. missed him sm 😖 enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

7-"my favorite new pillow" "I can't breathe" "I don't care"

9-"it's 2 am, go back to sleep"

The plan was simple—Gavi had agreed to stay up all night with his girlfriend. It was something spontaneous, a silly idea after spending the whole evening watching movies together.

y/n had suggested pulling an all-nighter just for fun, like when they were kids, and he was quick to agree, excitement gleaming in his eyes.

But now, at 2 AM, with Gavi asleep beside her on the couch, she started to think maybe she should’ve known better. His head was resting on her shoulder, his body curled up against hers like she was his personal pillow. The movie playing on the TV was long forgotten, just background noise to his soft breathing. y/n , on the other hand, was still wide awake, mind buzzing with the fun of staying up past a reasonable hour.

She shifted slightly, trying not to wake him, but he stirred anyway, groggily lifting his head. His eyes blinked open, squinting at the bright screen, and then he looked at her, his voice sleepy as he mumbled, “It’s 2 am, go back to sleep.”

“I thought we were staying up all night,” she whispered back with a grin, teasing him.

He frowned, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, but I’m tired.” He looked ready to sink back into sleep, but she tugged on his arm playfully.

“Come on, let’s bake something or watch another movie! You can’t fall asleep now, we’re only halfway through the night.”

Gavi groaned but laughed softly, clearly amused by her determination. “Fine, but only because you’re cute.” He sat up, his hand slipping into hers as he stretched. “What do you wanna bake?”

“Cookies!” she said excitedly, already getting off the couch to head to the kitchen.

“Cookies at 2 AM,” he muttered, shaking his head but following after her. “Only you would think of that.”

In the kitchen, y/n gathered the ingredients while Gavi leaned against the counter, watching her with sleepy eyes. "You should be helping," she teased, nudging him with her elbow as she measured the flour.

He smirked and walked over, slipping his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m supervising. It’s a very important job.” His voice was low and gravelly, making her smile.

She mixed the dough, Gavi’s arms still loosely wrapped around her. Occasionally, he'd sneak his hand forward, poking at the dough or stealing a bit to taste.

“Hey!” y/n scolded playfully, slapping his hand away.

“I’m just checking to make sure it’s good,” he said with a grin, licking the dough from his finger. “It’s perfect.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to focus as she added the chocolate chips. “If we don’t finish this, it’ll be because you ate half the ingredients.”

Gavi chuckled, placing a kiss on her cheek before letting her go. He moved around the kitchen, grabbing baking sheets and helping her scoop the dough into perfect little rounds. It was oddly domestic and comforting, the quiet intimacy of baking together in the middle of the night.

“I didn’t think you’d actually help,” she teased, glancing at him as he carefully spaced the cookies on the tray.

“I’m not that useless,” he quipped, giving her a mock-offended look.

“No, you’re not,” she agreed with a smile, leaning over to kiss him quickly on the lips.

After putting the cookies in the oven, they both sat on the counter, legs swinging as they waited for them to bake. Gavi leaned his head on her shoulder, eyes heavy with sleep again. y/n reached over to gently run her fingers through his hair, feeling him relax against her.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“Not asleep,” he mumbled, though his eyes were closed. “Just resting my eyes.”

y/n laughed softly and let him be. The cookies filled the kitchen with a warm, sugary smell, and she couldn’t help but feel a soft flutter of happiness in her chest. Moments like this with him were her favorite—simple, sweet, and full of love.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow across the room. y/n blinked awake, feeling the weight of Gavi still resting on her. His face was nestled into the crook of her neck, his arm draped lazily across her waist, his breath soft and steady against her skin. She was warm, almost too warm, but she didn’t want to move just yet.

It wasn’t until she glanced at the clock on the wall that reality hit her. It was well past 10 am. Gavi’s training session started at 8.

“Pablito,” she whispered, nudging him gently. “Gavi, wake up.”

He grunted, shifting slightly but refusing to fully wake up. She tried again, shaking him a little harder. “Pablo, wake up. You missed training!”

That got a reaction. He groggily lifted his head, squinting at her with bleary eyes, trying to process what she was saying. "Huh?"

“You missed training,” she repeated, pointing to the clock.

His eyes widened as realization sank in. “Oh, shit!” He scrambled up, his hands flying to his head as he sat up fully, looking around in a panic. “I’m so dead, I can’t believe—”

“baby, relax!” she laughed, sitting up beside him. “Just call in sick.”

He shook his head, still in a mild state of panic. “I’m gonna be in so much trouble.”

She reached over and placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “It’s okay. You can say you weren’t feeling well.”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands for a moment before peeking at her through his fingers. “This is all your fault, you know,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.

“You love it,” she teased, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“sadly, I do,” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping his arms around her again and pulling her back into his chest.

“ my favorite new pillow.” he murmured into her neck

y/n rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t resist as he held her close. His body was warm and heavy against hers, and she could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest against her hands that were resting there.

“I can't breathe” she teased, fake gasping as if she was choking.

“I don’t care,” he muttered, his lips brushing the top of her head as his grip tightened around her waist.

y/n laughed, trying to squirm out from under him, but he only tightened his grip. “Pablo! you're crushing me.”

Finally, he loosened his hold and kissed her again, this time on the lips. His lips were soft, lingering for a few seconds before he pulled away slightly, his voice still sleepy but full of affection. “You’re not going anywhere princesa”

She smiled, running her fingers through his messy hair. “But you missed training…”

He groaned again, sitting up reluctantly. “Alright, alright. I’ll call in sick.” He grabbed his phone, but before making the call, he leaned in to kiss her one more time, longer this time, savoring the moment.

And even though he was technically in trouble, neither of them cared. Because right then, in each other’s arms, nothing else mattered.

[inmyheaddd]

✦ sparks fly (and so do waterbottles!)

a/n: as a certified clutz myself i couldn’t just write one clumsy!reader x percy fic 🙈🙈 wc: 757

you were carrying a box full of camp gear—rope, quivers, sparring gloves, a couple of water bottles—as you carefully made your way through the trail towards the archery range. percy had offered to help earlier, but you’d waved him off, saying that you’d be fine, it was a one person job. 

the one second you weren’t looking down at your feet, you tripped on a long tree root. 

you tumbled straight over onto your knees, dropping the box box with half of its content spilled all across the ground. you watched a quiver roll extra dramatically downhill in your moment of shock. 

seriously?

percy jogged over from somewhere behind you, as if he was waiting to see it happen, trying and failing to hide his grin. “you know, i offered to help you, like, two minutes ago.”

“i was fine,” you muttered with your cheeks heating up, crouching down to gather everything you had dropped.

he held up one of the water bottles he’d caught, that flung halfway down the path behind you. “clearly. you’re doing wonders for the camp’s inventory.”

you huffed, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. “it’s part of the training program. it builds resilience.” you said, “it’s like… the gods way of keeping me humble or something.”

unfortunately for you, this was not the first time this has happened. 

he chuckled lowly, leaning down to help you pick up the remaining gear. “hey, you could even say they’re trying to keep you grounded,” he said, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he grinned. “literally.”

you stifled a smile as you both stood up, swatting his arm as he took a few of the items from you. “you’re so unfunny.”

you picked up the box and you and percy began walking forward to all the other items that rolled away.

“y’know, i’ve been thinking, do i need to get you, like, some armor?” he teased, nearly snorting as you almost stumbled on the same tree root once again.

you shot him a look. “its not my fault! i’d be just fine if everything in here didn’t have like a personal vendetta against me…” you mumbled under your breath as you stared at the box in your hand. that was the only possible explanation for how often you dropped things or tripped on them.

“right,” he said, grinning as he raised his brows. “i should get you a safety vest, or something... bright yellow, so all the supplies know to steer clear.”

“oh, yeah. you’re hilarious,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you carefully reached for another bottle you’d missed. you tried to ignore the way your palms stung slightly after you’d scraped them on the gravel, but you couldn’t help but wince slightly.

percy’s brows furrowed as he looked at you, then to your hands. “are you good?” he asked, but he was already taking the box from your arms and putting it on the ground. then he took your hands in his and inspected them. 

“i’m literally fine, perce. it’s just a scrape.” you said with a chuckle as you tried to retract your hands, but he only held your wrists firmer.

he turned them over, checking the backs of your hand before rubbing soft circles with his thumbs in an attempt to soothe them. you wanted to laugh at the sudden switch up, but also cry out of the sweetness of the small act. 

“okay, so,” he said softly, “i’m adding protective gloves to shopping list along with the armor— do you think you’ll need safety glasses too?” percy was grinning now, but he made his joke in such a serious tone, sounding like a concerned mother, but you knew his sarcasm all too well.

“oh yeah, for sure.” you rolled your eyes as you took your hands out of his and picked up the box. “i’ll be looking like a minion by the end of it.” 

“hey, it’s a good look on you,” he said with a grin, walking alongside you, still carrying half your load in his hands, making the box a bit lighter for you. 

“you’re the only person who could pull it off, trust me.” 

“no way,” you shook your head as you laughed, “if i was ever going to wear that, you’d have to wear it with me.”

“i’d look like an idiot any day if it meant you not getting injured, sure.” he said casually. he then nudged your shoulder carefully, giving you that soft smile of his. ”someone’s gotta keep you from tripping over yourself.” 

taglist: @lovethornes @littlemissmentallyunstable @midiosaamor @maybxlle @imaseabear 

@sheisntyou @off-to-the-r4ces @anintellectualintellectual @wish-i-were-heather @hxress23

@hermesenthusiast

[querenciasturniolo]

ghost ⮕ s.t.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: depictions of death (no active murder), mentions of death, mentions of vomit, blood, suspense, anxiety, fear, swearing

summary: murders in los angeles have been happening left and right, and right as you think it couldn’t get any worse, one of your best friends is gone.

a/n: this took much longer than it should have, and for that i’m sorry, but i have a few things to say beforehand. this was inspired by multiple edits, two separate convos i had with @floofparker and @champangekisses , scream being one of my FAVORITE scary movies, and, of course, the iconic “WHO’S MOST LIKELY TO BE THE GHOSTFACE KILLERRRR” from chris. this took FOREVER, but i’m so proud of it and so excited to put it out. this is pretty reminiscent to the movie, but i added my own little spin on it. PLEASE read the bolded disclaimer and take it to heart, i don’t think anything that goes down in this fic would actually happen, hence the name fanfiction. it’s supposed to be unrealistic, that’s the point. i hope you enjoy 🫶🏻

everything written is completely fictional. the people i write for are written with characteristics and mannerisms that i made for them, this is in no way depicting what would actually happen in real life.

Twenty year old social media star Christopher (Chris) Sturniolo was found dead outside of his Los Angeles home on September 22, 2023. His brothers, who he made comedy videos with on multiple platforms, Nicolas and Matthew Sturniolo, claim their brother had been out with long-time friend and fellow content creator, Y/f/n Y/l/n, hours before.

Nick and Matt told police moments before they rushed out to find their brother with multiple stab wounds, they heard yelling and a struggle. When they reached Chris, the assailant was gone. Y/n hasn’t spoken about their day together prior to his death, and has refused to answer any questions asked. Her and Matt Sturniolo seem to have ended their year-long relationship shortly after this tragedy, but we all want to know why. Was there an affair? Was the guilt too much to keep the secret after Chris’ death?

On October 13, 2022, Y/n’s brother was murdered brutally, and their mother suffered a very public breakdown. The assailant in her brother’s case has yet to be found.

Chris Sturniolo’s murder was the fifth in a little less than two months. Police have yet to tell the public any of their leads in this string of serial murders, but have disclosed that they are far from closing these cases.

The article had only been out for an hour, and your Instagram and Tiktok were already being swarmed with notifications. So many, that you had to delete both apps off of your phone to keep it from crashing.

You hadn’t left your bed since that day, only to get something to eat and some water when you ran out—you couldn’t even go to the funeral. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer your phone, you couldn’t even answer the countless messages you scrolled through in the days following your best friend’s death.

Today was the day, you decided, that you were going to do something. Three weeks couldn’t have been too late to get your shit back together. You had woken up in the late afternoon and gotten into the shower, standing under the hot spray for what felt like forever and just allowing yourself to relax and release any tension in your body.

You had made a full meal for the first time since…that morning. You were nauseous the entire time you ate, but you had to do this. When your brother died, everyone told you that the best way to get through your grief was to continue your regular routine as much as possible. Filming a video was on your to do list. You weren’t going to post it, it was just for you to get back into the routine of talking to a camera.

Setting up your camera was the hardest part. You knew how to do it blindfolded by now, but the thought of doing anything like this, even if you weren’t going to post it, felt wrong, almost. It felt wrong to look into a camera and talk about that day, talk about your last day with Chris.

You sat down on your couch after pressing record and ran a hand over your face, finally looking into the lens and sighing.

“It’s been awhile.” You started, rolling your eyes at the corniness of your statement. “I don’t even know why I said that, I’m not even posting this.” You grumbled, dropping your head into your hands and carding your fingers through your hair. The burning in your throat started, and you continuously fought through the knot and forming tears.

You looked up again, hoping your eyes didn’t look as red as they felt. “I picked Chris up at ten fifteen, and we spent the entire day together. We went thrifting, as much as he complained the whole time.” You said, a ghost of a smile forming on your face as your eyes focused elsewhere.

“He, oh my God.” You said, chuckling to yourself and shaking your head. “He would throw whatever I had in my hands in the basket and ask if we were done yet, every time I picked something up. I don’t know what his problem was, considering he had gotten a few things too.” You said, sighing softly and glancing over at the camera.

“We went to lunch—that honestly sounds more fancy than it is, we stopped at In-n-Out—and we just came back to my house afterwards. We talked about…a lot of things.” You started, tears pooling in your eyes as you closed them and let yourself remember.

“We talked…we talked about life, and getting older.” You said, dropping your head back and looking up at the ceiling. “Fears, hopes and whatnot. We talked about everything.” You said, sighing softly as the remnants of Chris’ voice in your memory sang through.

“I don’t know what I want right now. I’m grateful that I’m doing so well, but in five years, where will I be?”

“It started getting late, so I took him home. He told me to come in if I wanted, but I…I was tired, I wanted to go home. He…he got out of the car, and I didn’t. I never...” You dropped your head in your hands again, your breathing labored as you fought off the guilt that had been deteriorating you for the last three weeks.

You lifted your head, about to stand and turn off your camera when your phone buzzed next to you. You sighed and flipped it over, frowning at the screen.

No Caller ID flashed before you. Usually you’d ignore the call, but something in you couldn’t resist as you slid the icon over and pressed it to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked, your voice quiet and shaky.

“It was your fault, you know.”

You’d never ended a call so fast, your phone hitting the couch as you stared down at it with wide eyes. The voice was distorted, completely unrecognizable, but familiar at the same time. This was some sick joke, it had to be. You took a deep breath and shook your head.

You stood and walked over to your camera on weak knees, stopping the recording and taking your camera off of the tripod. As you shut off the camera, your phone buzzed on the couch. A sigh left your lips as you placed the camera on the coffee table and ran your hands through your hair.

What was the worst that could happen, right? You picked up your phone, No Caller ID still flashing across the screen. You slid the icon over again and pressed your phone to your ear.

“That wasn’t very nice.”

Your entire body went on high alert. “Who is this?” You asked, your voice trembling.

“That’s not important, what’s important is I know what really happened that day.”

All of the air left your lungs as you shakily sat down on the couch. “What are you talking about?” You asked. A dark chuckle rang through the receiver, your heart pounding in your ears as you waited for an answer.

“You didn’t wait for him to get inside, did you, Sweetheart?”

A broken sob left your lips as you hung up the phone and dropped it, your whole body shaking with each shattered cry that escaped you. The guilt was too much, it was the only thing about your last day with him that you couldn’t bring yourself to even say.

You blame yourself for Chris’ death, if you had just waited a few moments for him to get in the door, none of this would have happened. It was killing you every single day, not knowing if your being there would have changed anything.

You ignored the next call, and went through your contacts. Your finger hovered over Matt’s name, your chest aching as you swiped out of his contact, clicked the one under it, and held your phone to your ear. Before Nick could even finish his greeting, you were straining to get your words out of your mouth through the knot in your throat.

“Nick, something is wrong. Please, please come over.” You whispered into the phone, trying your best to keep your voice steady as his silence on the other end made your skin crawl.

“I’ll be there soon.”

You put your phone on the couch and took your time pacing around your living room.

Nick would be here soon, there was no reason to panic. The person on the phone was nothing, no one. Your phone’s incessant buzzing pulled you out of your pacing. You were frustrated now, the guilt and pain that you’d been holding in for so long was finally out in the open and slapping you right in the face.

How did they know? You hadn’t told anyone, you couldn’t even bring yourself to say it out loud.

It didn’t matter, the person on the phone had no idea what they were talking about, which sounded about as stupid as you thought it did, but it was the only thing keeping you from pulling your hair out of your head.

You pulled your phone from the couch and answered, the buzzing driving you up the wall.

“Listen, I’ve already called the police, and they’re tracing this call right no—”

The laughter on the other end cut you off, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as that sickening, metallic voice rang through the receiver.

“Oh, Sweetheart. We both know that isn’t true. I do know, however, that your little friend and boyfriend are on their way right now. Care to explain how they’re going to help you?”

Every hair on your body stood on end, your chest aching with the intensity of each beat against your rib cage. You fish-mouthed, unable to get any words out as the voice continued.

“How are they going to stop me, hm? How are they going to keep me from gutting you the same way I did your dear old friend, Chris? Or your brother?”

You froze, your gaze stuck to the floor as each word processed in your mind. “My brother?” You whimpered, a sinister chuckle vibrated against your ear.

“You heard me, Sweetheart. He put up quite the fight, too. More of a fight than your little friend.”

“Shut up!” You screamed into the receiver, hanging up the phone and throwing it across the room. You could distinctly hear the shatter of your screen as you crumpled in on yourself.

Michael’s murder had completely destroyed you. Your entire world was uprooted, and your mom, your mom hasn’t been the same since. She spends her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window, rocking slowly back and forth in a daze.

You’d never shaken more in your life, your entire body twitching and fighting each movement you tried to make as you stood from the floor. You needed to get up, you couldn’t let yourself stay on the ground or you’d never move.

Before you reached your kitchen, the sound of a knock at the door had you jumping out of your skin. It took everything in you to walk to the door and peek out the peephole, ripping it open the moment you registered Nick and Matt standing on your porch.

You hadn’t said a word before they rushed in and wrapped you in the tightest hugs you’d ever experienced in your life. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you pushed the door shut and held them tightly.

“I’m so sorry.” You sobbed, both of their arms holding you as you completely crumbled. “I didn’t wait for him to get inside, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault, he’d be here right now if it wasn’t for me. I’m so fucking sorry.” You rambled. Neither of them spoke, but their shoulders shaking softly against you answered the silent question of if they were listening.

When you finally pulled away, you were still shaking like a leaf. The guilt of holding it in for so long had been washed away, but the fear of that voice on the phone was still running rampant.

“No one blames you.” Nick said, his eyes rimmed red. “We’ve never blamed you. So you don’t need to worry about that.” You glanced at Matt, who’s eyes were still on the floor before you met Nick’s eyes again. “What happened?”

You sniffed and shook your head as you wiped at your face. “Nothing, it’s fine. It isn’t important.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your abdomen as your eyes rested on Matt’s hunched frame. Nick sighed from where he stood and ran a hand over his face.

“I’ll leave you two to talk, but then I want to know what happened.” He said before he turned and walked towards the living room.

For what felt like hours, you and Matt stood across from each other in the mudroom of your childhood home, you staring at him, and him staring at the floor. When his eyes finally met yours, it felt as though your heart shattered and mended itself all at once. You hadn’t seen him since before Chris’ death, and the only message you’d sent him since then was telling him that the two of you needed to break up.

He looked as beautiful as he always had, but he looked different. Under his eyes were dusted in a dark purple, the whites of them tinged pink, his cheeks sunken in.

“Matty,” you whispered and took a step forward. He shook his head and looked back down at the floor.

“Why?”

It took everything in you not to wrap him in your arms and never let go. You knew exactly what he was asking you, and you knew the answer. It had taken these three weeks of you doing nothing more than surviving to realize you had no other reason to break up with Matt, other than the fact that looking at him would remind you of Chris, and you couldn’t handle it. It was selfish, and you could only imagine how he felt.

“I…I don’t have a good reason.”

Matt nodded and sniffed before looking up and meeting your eyes. The blue of his iris’ was striking against the red rimming his eyes. Your own eyes were burning as his gaze scanned over your face.

“Is it true?”

You frowned, confusion clouding your mind as he sighed and shook his head.

“What the article said, about you and Chris. Is it true? Was there…did you…”

You gasped as the realization hit you of what he was asking.

“Matt, what? I would never, I could never do that to you. I didn’t look at Chris like that, you know that.” You rambled on.

Matt nodded. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, just…a moment of weakness, I didn’t mean it.” He mumbled, taking a step closer to you. “Why did you end…us? I needed you, and you just…you shut me out.”

You took a deep breath in through your nose and shook your head. “I couldn’t bear looking at you and seeing him. I know, that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“I shattered the mirror in my bathroom the other night.”

You looked up, your eyebrows furrowed as Matt held up his hands. A gasp left your lips and you reached forward, delicately taking his cut up and bruised hands in yours. Before you could ask him why, he answered the silent question brokenly.

“Every time I looked in the mirror, I saw him.” You met his eyes again, and didn’t stop yourself as you pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace.

“I’m sorry, Matty. I should have been there.” You mumbled into his shoulder, his arms tightening around your waist as he breathed you in. Neither of you said anything, just held each other for as long as the other needed.

“Um, Y/n? Did you do this on purpose?”

You pulled away from Matt and turned around, seeing Nick holding your shattered phone in his hand. You sighed and nodded, the fear you’d completely forgotten about creeping up.

“I was getting prank phone calls, it’s not that big of a deal.” You mumbled, pulling away completely and walking towards the living room.

“What kind of prank phone calls would make you shatter your phone?” Matt asked quietly, you turned to face him and shrugged your shoulders, trying desperately to hide the shaking of your hands. You didn’t want to talk about it, you couldn't talk about it. If you talked about it, that would make it real.

Before you could even sit on the couch, Nick’s phone was went off in his pocket. Your heart pounded as he pulled it out and looked down at it with a frown.

“No Caller ID?” He mumbled, your jaw dropping as he pulled it to his ear. It was a few moments of silence before he met your eyes and handed it to you. “They asked for you.”

You whimpered as you took the phone and pressed it to your ear, not saying a word as the mechanical voice spoke again.

“You really thought smashing your phone would get rid of me, Sweetheart?”

“What do you want?!” You cried, the other line buzzing in silence for only a moment before Matt stepped forward and almost snatched the phone from your hand.

“I’m upstairs, come find me.”

The line beeped right as Matt grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear. You froze in your spot, Matt turning to face you and dropping Nick’s phone on the couch. He grabbed your shoulders and shook you once lightly.

“What did they say? Baby, breathe. What did they say?!” Matt asked, his grip on your shoulders tight as you fought off the panic.

“He’s in the house. He’s in the house.” You whispered, your eyes meeting Matt’s. Nick moved from his spot and stopped right next to Matt, his eyes wide as he scanned your face.

“Y/n, who is in the house?” He asked, his voice quiet in shock. You shook your head, nausea overtaking you as you pushed past Matt and sprinted to the kitchen. You couldn’t make it to the trash, turning and vomiting into the sink, your breaths heaving as you felt a warm hand rest on your back.

It took everything in you not to crumple to the floor as you looked up and shook your head.

“H-He told me he’s the one that killed Michael…and C-Chris.” You whispered the last word, your throat burning and your stomach lurching. Matt’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“How long have you been getting these phone calls?” He asked, his voice shaky as Nick handed you a bottle of water.

“It’s only been the last couple of hours, I thought it was some sort of sick prank until—”

A shatter from upstairs had your entire body tensing, your breath catching in your throat. Nick’s head whipped to the stairs as Matt reached for a knife and turned away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, grabbing his arm tightly and making him face you. Nick had his phone dialed and already pressed to his ear, speaking quickly to the 9-1-1 operator.

“I’m fucking going up there.” He said, pulling his arm from your grip and continuing his way towards the stairs.

“Matt, are you stupid?” Nick asked, stepping in front of the staircase as he hung up the phone. “The police are being dispatched, don’t do anything rash.” Matt shoved past Nick and ascended the stairs, his knuckles white on the handle of the knife. Nick groaned and faced you fully. “What are we gonna do?” He asked.

“We can’t just let him go up there by himself.” You whispered, walking past Nick and slowly stepping up the stairs.

“Jesus, you guys are gonna get us killed.” Nick grumbled from behind you. You heard a shuffle in the kitchen and turned, seeing him follow you up with a knife in his hand. “What? One of us had to grab something.” He whispered. You faced forward again, listening for any bump or creak that could indicate where Matt or the man that was in your house were.

It was silent as you walked through the upstairs. Each door you passed was closed, the only sound upstairs being the sound of Nick’s and your footsteps, and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears.

“Matt?” You called out, the back of Nick’s hand hitting your shoulder. You looked at him, bewilderment etched into your face.

“Have you never seen a scary movie? Calling out in a dark house is the number one way to fucking die.” He said through his teeth. You rolled your eyes and opened your mouth to fire back.

“Get off of me!”

You jumped, your head whipping down the hallway to see a door slam. “Matt!” You shouted, running without thinking towards the door and shoving it open. The moment you stepped into the center of the room, you knew something was wrong. The door clicked behind you, and you froze in place.

“Look what we have here.”

You turned, your eyes meeting Matt’s. His entire demeanor changed, the heartbroken boy you’d seen before was gone. In his place, stood what you could only describe as a monster. His eyes were dark, his smirk sinister, and his shoulders were square.

“Matty?” You asked, Nick coming from behind him with an almost identical smirk.

The both of them chuckled and looked between each other. Nick stepped forward, causing you to take a quick step back.

“Oh, Honey. Matty’s been gone for a while.” His hooded eyes stared you down as you fully processed what was truly happening. The both of them had tricked you.

You took in a shaky breath past the knot in your throat as you took another step back.

“You?” You exhaled, your eyes switching between them as their smirks grew impossibly wider. Matt rolled his eyes and looked over to Nick.

“Us?” He mocked, meeting your eyes and taking a step closer to you. “Yes, Baby. Us. Is that so surprising?” He teased, your eyes brimming with hot, salty tears. The cool air in the room had them burning, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

“You two were behind the murders all along?” You asked, your voice barely reaching a whisper as they moved closer to you almost strategically, boxing you in with each step they took.

Nick chuckled and nodded his head, his eyes never leaving yours as he cocked his head to the side. “She’s catching up, Matt. Yes, every single one.” He said, his voice thick with venom.

“But why?” You whimpered, your back hitting the wall. You were cornered, you couldn’t get past them no matter how hard you tried. Nick and Matt’s eyes were wicked as they watched you, Matt’s smirk growing as he glanced over at Nick.

“Hear that, Nick? She wants a motive.” He said, his eyes meeting yours again. “It isn’t enough that we just felt like it?”

“You killed Michael in cold blood, just because you felt like it?” You spat. Nick quirked an eyebrow and lightly ran the tip of his finger over the blade of the knife he was holding.

“See, now you’re getting it. Not everyone needs a motive, some people are just sick and twisted.” He pouted at the end of his sentence, anger flushing through you and coating your skin in heat.

“And Chris?” You asked. Matt chuckled and shook his head.

“You really can’t be that dense, Baby.” He said.

“Don’t fucking call me that.” You said through gritted teeth.

“It was only a distraction. We were getting sloppy, and what’s better to get the cops off of our case than getting rid of one of us?” Nick interrupted. You shook your head.

“Murder isn’t a distraction, you sick fucks.” You spat, looking around the room for any escape.

Matt chuckled, and flipped the blade in his hand. “Oh, Baby. You really aren’t understanding, are you?”

Before you could spit in his face, the door behind them was pushed open, your eyes shifting to the shadowed figure walking into the room. Your heart pounded in your chest as realization slowly set in, a broken cry leaving your lips as you shook your head.

“No.” You whispered.

The white mask on his face would have been comical if every hair on your body wasn’t standing on end. You watched each movement closely, your knees buckling as you slid to the floor. The wood was ice cold as the man crouched down in front of you. He pulled the mask from his face, your choked sob being caught in your throat as you shook your head and looked down at the floor.

His warm finger rested on your chin and he lifted it up until your eyes met his, a broken whimper leaving your lips as you met the familiar blue eyes you’d looked into a million times before.

“What’s the matter, Sweetheart?” Chris said, his voice gravelly and rough as it left his smirking lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

tags: @lvrsparadise , @ssturniolo , @floofparker , @cat-loves-music , @geniejunn , @its-jennarose , @dwntwn-strnlo , @20nugs , @hiraethlimerence , @lavieenvalentina , @strniolo , @toyourloves , @jellybeanbby , @thetriplets3 , @mxriverse , @stvrni0lo , @gabbylovesreading , @tylerscreat0r , @angelcake-222 , @obsessivencrazy , @lollibumblebee , @stargirlv0id , @idontexistman , @emssturniolo , @soursturniolo , @bernardenjoyer , @mxqdii , @leah-loves-lilies , @mattsnutsack , @lovelysturniolo

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 31

Could Never Stop

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Fem!Reader x Shanks

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 7853

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: The Emperor of the Sea sets sail from Karai Bari Island. Can he make it to the banquet in two days? More importantly, can Shanks regain his confidence, and do what needs to be done to save the woman that both of his lovers love?

Let the games begin! 🏹

Author's Note: Thank you for the wait! This month has been extra, but I also spent a ton of time and research writing this one since the game is getting started. I hope you enjoy it! I have soo many plans 🥰😈

There's a yucky Uncle Cedrick scene, but from now on we'll just have to expect that. I will continue to bracket sections if heavier situations come up, but at this point, I hope that Uncle Cuntdick will be his own warning 😬 We are meeting Dr. Vorsan this chapter, and I've bracketed the scene with these symbols ~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~ so as not to jump scare everyone!

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | ⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! Fic currently contains spoilers for up to the end of the Wano arc, and potentially current arc minor details.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Toxic Family, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Anal, Uncle Cedrick might just be his own warning, Doctors, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

“Go away, old man,” groaned a frighteningly hungover pirate captain, who was still face down on the floor of his quarters. Sheets with too many smells had already been stripped from his bed, but the night had held too much liquor for him to replace them on his own, so he’d slept on the rug.

“I’d love to,” Benn snorted, rolling Shanks onto his back. “Is my captain done drownin’ his sorrows?”

“Dunno what you mean.” 

He cringed while he pushed himself up to lean against the wall, and couldn’t meet his first mate’s eyes. 

“You’re too kind hearted for this, captain,” the older man sighed. “Why don’t you find a sweet, little barmaid to dote on like a respectable pirate, eh? What about–”

“I don’t want bunnies. I want…” Shanks growled, but his anger fizzled out at the thought of predators and prey.

“Nah. The Great, Red Haired Shanks just wants ungrateful brats that leave him crying on the floor a few times a year.”

The Great, Red Haired Shanks pulled himself to his feet, only to stumble over to an uncorked bottle in the corner, taking a grateful swig when he found it full. 

“Just had too much fun is all,” he laughed, the bitter taste drowning out the sweetness of the wine.

“Well, next time that creepy asshole gives my captain too much fun, I’m gonna make sure it’s him that’s crying, ya hear me?”

“Sure, old man,” Shanks snorted, letting his first mate guide him to the shower, still downing that wine to fight off images of wicked, beautiful eyes. He wondered how long it would take this time for the cruel hint of gold to leave his mind. 

The Great, Red Haired Shanks didn’t need bunnies or hawks. He just needed the sea, his crew, and another fucking bottle. 

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

“It’s been some time since our last session. How have you been feeling, Y/N?”

Dr. Vorsan’s pale eyes always felt sticky. Puddles of too much glue, waiting to capture anything you let slip from your shaky fingers, your trembling lips. 

Breathe.

“I’m feeling well, Doctor,” you lied, keeping your voice soft. “I’m sure you've heard about my recent behavior… I believe the experience has offered me some much needed clarity.”

Everything about this man was pale and watery, and you reminded yourself not to frown at his beige suit. It would have seemed like the doctor wanted to fade into the background, if every boring detail about him hadn’t been so exquisitely tailored.

“That’s good to hear,” he praised, though the emptiness in his voice had you fighting to stay present. “Why don’t you tell me about it. You’re going through a lot of transitions, Y/N. Major life changes, even positive ones, can cause a lot of strain. Have you been feeling strained, Y/N?”

“Mmssorry,” you slurred, fighting your lips that had already frozen, not even five minutes in. 

“You stated that your time with the Cross Guild brought you clarity,” Dr. Vorsan noted. Those sticky eyes seemed to warm while your body left your control, until you couldn’t meet them anymore, couldn’t look higher than his elbows. “By putting yourself in such a dangerous–”

“I wasn’t–” 

You were heavy and loose now, your whispered denial draining the last of your energy. 

“You’re in a safe place, Y/N,” he promised while he pulled a shiny, gold pen from his jacket, propping up a notepad on his knee. “Do you know where you are?”

He asked again, voice so soft, until you nodded in agreement. 

“Good, Y/N. Just take some deep breaths, and we can stop whenever you need to. We’ll help you get clarity, so you can stay well. Do you want to stay well, Y/N?”

“Y-yes, Doctor.”

“Wonderful,” he purred, scratching a note onto the top of his page, the movement of his manicured hands holding your gaze. “Why don’t you tell me about the clown?”

~~~⚫⚫⚫~~~

~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🤡🐊~~~

“With Sylvad’s cowardly level of security, I believe this would be too risky to use, but you should take it, in case the opportunity arises.”

“It’s so small,” Shanks hummed, inspecting Mihawk’s earpiece transponder snail, its tiny eyes blinking up at him slowly. “Maybe if I–”

“Save it,” Crocodile ordered, pushing away his untouched meal before closing the ornate shell container in Shanks’ palm, shutting those little eyes away. “Right now, the safest way to save our girl is for you to marry her. Don’t put that at risk by acting suspicious.”  

Shanks stared at the closed shell before tucking it away, looking up to find his old friend winking at him. 

“Don’t fret, love. We can have a belated bachelor party when you return,” Mihawk teased, combing his fingers through that bright, red hair.

“But Buggy—”

“I’m not thrilled about it either,” Crocodile sighed, standing to usher the other man out of the suite, “but it’s our best chance. That’s your mission. We’ll be listening, we have the location, and we can reach out to your crew if we need to share something vital. Can you do this?”

The two men stared each other down again, the swordsman’s hand dropping away to give them space. 

“I’ll bring her back,” Shanks swore again, offering Crocodile his hand. The larger man shook it, but the press of time killed their peaceful moment. 

The Emperor made his way into Adam’s room, waiting for Buggy’s permission to speak, but his clown looked pained, and Shanks couldn’t wait.

“What’s wrong, Bugs?”

Buggy’s hands were cramping from recording the pros and cons of the men that might marry his star. His throat was tired from swallowing nasty fears and guilt at the thought of Y/N actually finding someone she wanted to be with. 

“You’re leaving,” he whispered, letting out a sigh when Shanks nodded. Strong fingers were so gentle as they brushed hair behind his ear, pens not doing enough to hold up all of that blue. 

“I’m gonna fix this, Bugs.”

“She doesn’t believe…”

Though jealousy had turned him into someone he didn’t recognize, now when he saw that look of love in Buggy’s eyes for Y/N, Shanks wanted to burn all the oceans to bring them back together. 

“She loves me, but she thinks it’s over, Shanks. My star’s really looking for someone else.”

“That’s not gon–”

“Make sure it’s you, alright, shithead?”

Buggy pressed his last piece of hope into Shanks’ palm, before letting himself hold and be held by this beautiful man that had been so many things to him over the years. He sank to the floor, allowing soothing kisses to be left along his unraveling hair while slow, exhausted tears escaped him. 

Shanks opened his mouth to comfort, to promise, to share, but Buggy reached for the notepad again, mumbling about her “favorites.” After a rushed, bittersweet kiss, the red headed pirate was on his way, met by his golden eyed lover in the hall.

“Making sure I don’t run off with all your booze,” he tried to smile, feeling the weight of distance already crashing over him. 

“Something like that,” Mihawk teased. “I thought I’d send you off.”

~~~🔴🗡️🤡🐊~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“How was your session with Dr. Vorsan,” Uncle Cedrick taunted, filling the dining room with ice. 

“It went well.”

You’d managed to bring yourself back, to find your body and voice again before dinner, knowing that he’d be waiting to poke at you. 

“Excellent,” he purred, killing your appetite again. “He’ll be staying until the wedding, just in case you need the extra support.”

“Thank you, Uncle,” you hummed, forcing down a bite.

“So polite,” he laughed, touching your moms chin to lift her face up. “See, Delaine. A little time with the doc, and your daughter’s already feeling better. Maybe she’ll even stop asking her mama bird to chew up her food soon.”

“She can stop after the wedding,” you said coldly, not enjoying the cruel laugh he gave at her expense.

“Such a high maintenance bride,” he taunted, towering over you all when he stood from his seat, offering you his arm. “Come on, smarty. Let’s take a walk.”

Kat started to argue for you, but it was a pointless battle, so you left the other Sylvad ladies at the table, letting Uncle Cedrick guide you out to the lavish courtyard. 

“I know you’ve been reviewing the details with Kat, instead of your mother, but I expect you to be prepared tomorrow. You know the rules of the game?”

“The suitors have a month to win me,” you recited while he led you through the tables, dragging you to the beautiful, carved bench where the introductions would be held. “They’re not allowed to fight amongst themselves unless it’s for the game, and they have to leave grudges aside until after someone wins my heart. They’ll all have time with me as a group and in private, and they can woo me however they like, so long as it doesn’t endanger me, or take me off the island.”

The pride in his smile wasn’t for you, but he beamed it at you, nonetheless.

“Since you’ve been doing so well, I’m sure you can remember a few more rules. Think you can handle that, smarty?”

“Yes, Uncle,” you agreed, sending your rage down into the stone beneath you. 

“You need to remember that choice is a fucking luxury, Y/N,” he threatened, brushing the hair back from your face while he leaned too close, his cologne filling your lungs. “After the fiasco you could have caused, and after all these years of abusing my patience, you’re lucky I’m letting you play this little game at all.”

His hateful words were drawn out with lazy pleasure, and he kept his fingers in your hair, stroking you like a pet. Like his pretty doll.

“You’re going to give all of your suitors a fair chance. They’re here to enjoy themselves, so I won’t have you chasing anyone off too soon. You’re going to whittle them down slowly, and carefully, and with my approval. Your final two suitors will be offered a deal, and if they don’t accept it, they won’t get my blessing.”

“So…”

“So, do whatever you need to do to convince the men you like the most to take that deal.”

Nodding so you wouldn’t spit, you seethed when he tugged at your chin the way he’d touched your mother’s earlier. Your eyes were forced to his, and the stars above seemed to burn like acid as your face tilted up toward them. 

“I’ll do anything to protect this family,” Uncle Cedrick vowed as he rubbed his thumb across your snarling lips. “If there’s a man that can offer a better deal, then he’ll get my blessing, no matter your preference. So get ready to use this smart, little mouth of yours, niece. I wonder if you’re a good enough whore to convince anyone to stay? Though I have to confess, after all of your tantrums, I think my spoiled brat of a niece might deserve a man that can put her in her place.”

He laughed at your stifled hatred, wiggling your face before releasing you. 

“Give them all a chance to win you,” Uncle ordered, satisfaction dripping from his parted lips. 

He enjoyed watching you suffer. Enjoyed it in a way that made your skin crawl, but you could never fully hide your rage from him, no matter how skilled you became. He could fucking sniff it out. 

“If I catch you sabotaging any suitor’s feelings for you before I’ve given the approval to drop them, then I’ll make sure you get some extra special time together. It’s only fair.”

All of the acceptance you’d been building up was crashing down around you, and you held in your tears, not wanting to see the pleasure on his face if he tore them from you. 

You wanted to run away.

He found me. He could have had Karai Bari wiped off the fucking map, and Buggy…

“Well, niece, do you understand? Or do I need to—“

“I’ll fuck the one’s I like to make them take your deal,” you growled, almost losing your vision from the rage that was coursing through you. “And I’ll fuck the one’s I hate so you won’t know which piece of shit to trap me with.”

Cedrick Sylvad threw his head back, bellowing his cruel laughter up to the twinkling sky. 

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he wheezed, before leaving you there with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Don’t stay up too late, niece.”

He didn’t leave you with a guard. There was no need. 

I’ll never get away. These are my choices. Pros and cons.

The silent courtyard felt like a cemetery while you struggled to move, to head off to bed, and end this shitty night. Your fingers found their way to your locket, the touch of warm metal helping to calm your breathing while you stared at all the cold, shining stars above you. 

“At least I have all those pretty daydreams,” you whispered, feeling like an empty doll as you floated off to bed. 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

“Hawk Eyes.”

It had been a couple of years since Mihawk had stepped foot onto the Red Force, but his body had memorized every step toward the captain’s quarters, and they walked there without a thought. 

Until a tall, scowling man blocked his path.

“Good afternoon, Benn. How—“

“How about you get the fuck—“

“Hey now,” Shanks laughed, stepping between his first mate and the swordsman, who’d raised a brow at the threatening tone. “We’re good, Benn! He’s just seeing us off.”

“Well, I’ll see him off a fucking cliff if he makes you—”

Shanks cut him off, pulling Mihawk into his quarters while Benn narrowed his eyes, his arms flexing as he crossed them over his chest. 

“If I make him…” Mihawk asked, focusing on the hint of pink that was blossoming on Shanks’ cheeks. 

Cute.

“Benn, get the crew ready. We’re heading out soon.”

“Aye, captain,” he agreed, still leaning toward the swordsman through the doorway. Benn jerked his head to the side as unruly strands of long, gray hair escaped his tie, getting in the way of his glare. “If you ever make my captain cry again, I’m gonna turn those pretty, gold eyeballs into pretty, gold earrings, ya hear me?”

“Thanks, Benn,” Shanks shoved the man out, locking himself into his quarters with his wicked, old friend whose mouth was hanging wide open. He might have laughed at the sight if he hadn’t wanted to crawl under the floorboards. 

Fuck you, Benn…

“Cry?”

Shanks had watched those lips move. He’d heard that voice speak. 

Yet his mind couldn’t connect that trembling word to the deadly rival before him.

The sweetness that had echoed through Mihawk’s bones with every step beside his lover had curdled again, guilt and shame scraping up his throat, strangling the words he’d hoped to share.

I don’t deserve it. 

“You’re shaking,” the red haired pirate breathed as he reached for one of those dangerous hands. Everything was unsteady. Nothing in this world fit anymore, but Shanks tried to laugh it off. “Is Dracule Mihawk feeling jealous? I never had you pegged for the marriage type.”

“No,” he choked a laugh, brittle and stinging as he sat on the bed. The same, old bed they’d shared countless times. “I’m so sorry, Shanks.”

Those words again.

This “vacation” of his had felt like the most outrageous, delicious dream held hostage by a nightmare, and Shanks felt a sudden terror that he was about to wake up to find it was all gone. 

In case it was about to disappear, Shanks sat beside his vicious, old friend, and pressed a kiss to the man’s temple. Mihawk wrapped his arms around him, clinging, feeding into the unreality of this soft, lovely dream. 

“Are you alright, Hawk,” Shanks breathed.

Instincts would have sent the swordsman out the door by now. Every thought pushed him out, guilt, and fear, and lies, no longer strong enough to outweigh the need to keep holding Shanks against him, to keep inhaling his comforting scent. 

The need to run was fueled by his new piles of shame. An unconscious demand to leave. Leave. Leave. 

“I’m done…”

“What’s that,” Shanks tensed at the whisper. He fought his rising dread, tracing his fingers through that pretty, black hair. As they always had, Mihawk’s hypnotic eyes made his world pause, yet in this moment they seemed like true magic. The swordsman had once been blank, unknowable, giving no depth, though Shanks had reached and delved as far as his old rival would let him.

Now those golden eyes were hypnotizing not for their blankness, but for the swirling depths that pulled him in. Pools of molten metal, pain, and need, and other things Shanks couldn’t think clearly enough to try to understand. 

Mihawk couldn’t understand how this beautiful, glorious man could still stand to look at him, let alone offer him comfort. He almost talked himself out of the room again, but vowed that he was done being a coward. He would fight. He would never run. 

Never again.

“I know I…” Mihawk started, losing his train of thought while he stared at his old friend that could have been something so much more. 

What’s the point of being safe if I can’t even… 

“Hawk?” 

 “I love you. I know it’s too late. I’m sorry, I–mmn!”

All that dread exploded, leaving Shanks absolutely fucking high. None of this could be real, but what a dream. 

“Took you long enough, old friend,” he purred. Mihawk whimpered beneath him, shaking under his touch after Shanks had pushed him onto his back, kissing him as though he’d disappear if he stopped. 

“I’m s-sorry, Sha–”

“Are you lying? Manipulating me?”

He gripped Mihawk’s face, wanting to throw this fear off the ship. Gods, he wanted to believe it, to feel it. 

Mihawk let out a breath, a weak sob, as the gold of his eyes was dressed with diamonds. The monster was even more hypnotizing when he cried.

“I’m not lying,” he confessed. Memories flooded the swordsman now, filling the air around him with regret, and with the hope he was fighting to keep. He reached up, cupping Shanks’ face while he blinked away his salty fear. “You loved a coward, old friend, but I’m done running. I love you. I’m so sor–”

Shanks couldn’t tell if he was laughing, or crying as he fell onto the wicked, intoxicating man beneath him. 

“I love you too, Hawk. I still love you. Could never stop.”

“Shanks…”

“Say it again,” Shanks breathed while he kissed along Mihawk’s throat, dizzy while one of his dearest fantasies played out before him. 

“I love you, Shanks.” Mihawk shivered, clinging, reaching, falling to pieces. Shameful parts of him still screamed to run, still thought so many cruel, ungrateful things, but there was nothing like the satisfied sounds his lover made when he said those words. “I have loved you in my cowardly heart. I’m sorry I– fuck!”

The red haired pirate fisted his hair with vicious force while he rutted his clothed cock against him, chuckling as he watched those hypnotizing eyes flutter with need. 

“Why are you sorry?”

“I…”

Mihawk was already lost in him, and Shanks let that sweetness pour over his body, his breath relaxing as he decided how to take care of his lover. 

“You’re sorry because you didn’t say you love me, right,” he purred, kissing tingles into Mihawk’s skin as he breathed along his temple to his jaw. The swordsman gave a weak nod, and a little whine, so Shanks nibbled at his ear, telling his boy how to please him. 

“I don’t wanna hear another ‘sorry,' you hear me,” he threatened, tracing his thumb along Mihawk’s hip, dipping down into those low riding pants. “You’d better keep telling me what you should have back then.”

“Shanks,” Mihawk moaned, undoing the lacings of his own clothes before clawing at Shanks’, desperate beneath the sway of that crooked smile. “I love you.”

The Emperor of the Sea forgot.

Nothing to do. Nowhere to be. 

Shanks just had to make this man say those words again and again. It had been so fucking long. They touched and kissed every inch of each other in their mad rush to claim every moment before the dream faded away, until the swordsman looked over his shoulder, begging so pretty. So perfect. 

“I need you, daddy,” Mihawk relaxed, ready. “Need you, love you, want… mm, please…”

“I need you too, bright eyes,” Shanks hummed, fingers finding their way in, cool lube easing the stretch while he made his lover moan into the wrinkled sheets. “I need my pretty boy to let me love him. You finally gonna let me, Hawk?” 

“Please,” he begged. The press of Shanks’ cock teasing at him was too much, and he writhed, shoving himself back until he cried out, earning the full force of that powerful body. 

“Look at you. Knew you’d be so good for me, baby.”

His fingers caressed while he pressed that pale skin into the mattress, and Shanks let everything go, praising, taking, and hurting his lover until they both went fucking mad. Mihawk let himself feel safe in the pleasure and the pain.

Safe. 

His lover made him cry, and bleed, and come, before laying his own claim. Shanks’ heavy cock filled him, on and on, leaving Mihawk twitching and whining. There they stayed, breathing, sweating, and whispering those words until they remembered. 

“I’ve gotta go, Hawk... Will you still love me when I come back,” Shanks asked as reality returned, failing to hide all the true fear in his voice.

“My lover gone away to sea. I shall await thee,” Mihawk hummed, moaning when Shanks pulled away, his body still craving his touch. 

“Are you writing love poems already?”

Mihawk could have stayed in that bed for days, but she was there in his mind. Still trembling from love and pleasure, fear followed him while he helped Shanks clean the evidence of their selfish lust, low chuckles still warming the air around them through it all. 

“I’ll write poetry for you, my love,” he breathed, eyes fluttering at the new touches he’d earned. “But you’re right. You need to leave.”

Demands felt wrong, so the swordsman finished drying and dressing his lover, until the Emperor pulled him close, their foreheads pressed together while he tried not to succumb to his own selfish terror. 

“I love you, Hawk Eyes,” Shanks let out one more time, while the memory of empty eyes burned through his soul. Y/N had helped both of his lovers, had helped him find them again, to hold them again, had helped them open up.

I owe her everything.

“I love you too, Red Hair,” Mihawk gave a true smile, shaky though it was. The voice calling for him to run was easily ignored with the gratitude and desperation rolling through him now. “Please–”

“Don’t worry, baby,” Shanks laughed, kissing those lips again before leading his deadly lover off the ship. “If I can win over Dracule Mihawk’s icy heart, then there’s no beast I can’t charm.”

~~~🔴🗡️🔴🗡️~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.” 

Kat managed to pull a laugh from you while servants buzzed around, swarming like bees as you waited in the courtyard for your new life to begin.

Whenever a big tree fell on Sylvad property, it would be easy to cart it away, to sell it into little pieces, but this courtyard was built to show off one of your favorite family traditions.

The last few generations of Sylvad’s had refused to let a fallen tree be scurried away like something to be ashamed of. If a tree fell on a Sylvad estate, it was to be celebrated to honor the hard work and creativity that made your family’s name synonymous with power, wisdom, and enough wealth and status to rival nobility. 

You sat on one of those dead trees, the trunk carved into a formidable, layered bench along the base of the manor, while the lantern lit courtyard stretched out toward the forest. On and on the bench seemed to go, covered with lifelike, and even life size animals trying to spring into your world from the fallen wood.

Childhood memories trampled over you for a moment, just like your little body had once tried to climb and claim this wonder of the forest. The obedient bees brought you back to the present, doing some last minute touch ups to your hair and makeup while they fluffed up your giant gown. 

Asking why you were in a white dress before your wedding day had sent you into rigid silence once the rest of the ensemble was forced onto you.

Don’t bite the help. Don’t bite the help… Do deer bite people?

“I’ll be right over there all night, okay,” Kat’s voice pushed through the mass of bodies. “Make that face if you need me to step in.”

“There’ll be no need for that, ladies,” Uncle scolded, his presence scattering the hovering pests around you. He beamed at your sister while he patted her cheek, before sending her to sit with your sulking mother. Kat gave you a weak smile, leaving you on that extravagant bench while your uncle managed to sit beside you without mussing your dress. 

The music may have been pretty. The lanterns lighting up beneath the golden, darkening sky might have been enchanting. 

It was even possible that one of the men in that crowd of guests breaking through the treeline onto the stone pathway would make a lovely husband. 

You tried to breathe, tapping nervously against the locket you’d stuffed into the corset of your dress since it hadn’t “fit the theme.”

What a feeling it was to finally know that love was real. Yet, such was your fate that you had to keep killing and burying the futile wish that you could have kept it for yourself. 

All of these men are here to own me. Every single one.

“Don’t forget to smile, dear niece,” Uncle taunted, leaning close enough to warm your cheek with his words. He laughed at his little joke, while you tried to obey.

You were the white stag. 

You were his helpless prey, whose sole purpose was to be hunted, mounted, and displayed. Nothing more than a tasty trophy.

The stupid, white antlers in your hair felt heavier with each moment while you watched your hunters stalk ever closer. The men had separated from their guests who were being seated so that everyone could watch your uncle’s little show, while the suitors formed a line.

“If you–”

“You already won, Uncle,” you cut him off, eyes scanning the edge of the forest while more figures appeared. “I’ll be well behaved venison from here on… what the f–”

“Smile.”

No fucking way.

Kat had followed your line of sight, and if your face matched the look on hers, you needed to shake it off now. The last thing you needed to do was offend one of these men that could squash you like a bug.

Sis was right. We should have asked for measurements. 

Swallowing manic laughter at the thought, you split into pieces, becoming the hunted. The truest part of you watched the show from a deep, dark hole within while you smiled at Uncle Cedrick, although your body couldn’t hide the shivers that broke through. 

“Smart girl,” he hummed, curdling your stomach before he pressed your hand into an old man’s wrinkly grip.

Your suitors had arrived.

“Giberson, lovely to see you. Let me introduce you to my niece. She’s—“

“The Cross Guild’s young CFO, if my sources aren’t mistaken? I can’t imagine there’s another Y/N Sylvad gallivanting about.” Giberson caught you off guard, and you were a deer in the headlights when his scratchy, white mustache tickled across your fingers. 

His words had left you frozen, and he released your hand, seeming a little wobbly while he balanced with his jewel encrusted cane. The old man adjusted his pin striped hat, making his tall body seem even lankier in the matching suit.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Uncle Cedrick laughed, clapping the old man on the back. “You probably know more about the competition than I do. So, have you decided to join the game, or will you just be staying for the entertainment?”

This old man is one of the Emperors of the Underworld… 

Giberson’s dossier had been the lightest you’d received, yet somehow that made him more frightening, along with his epithet; The Concealer.

“Hopefully I’ll have more luck at this wedding than I did at the last one I attended. Bodies just don’t recover the same when you get to be my age,” Giberson chuckled as he tapped his knee with his cane a few times. “Still, I may be old, but I can’t resist the offer to join in such a delightful game.”

“Happy hunting, good man. I’m confident that some time in Y/N’s company will put some pep back in your step,” Uncle encouraged, pulling an intricately carved arrow from a quiver at his back, adding to the vision of the dark hunter he exuded tonight. He handed it to you, giving you the illusion of choice.

You’d been told not to stand unless you absolutely had to, so you looked up at him through your lashes. Your painted doe eyes needed no help looking helpless, but you obeyed just the same. Giberson smelled of whiskey when he leaned down to accept the arrow from your grasp, a satisfied smile on those aged lips. 

“Just watch out, little lady. These young boys aren’t done fighting yet,” he stepped back, nodding subtly over his shoulder. “It would be a shame to see such a precious thing get caught up in the crossfire. I’d rather like to avoid that fate myself this time around.”

“Not to worry, Giberson, we’re all here to enjoy a more civilized kind of battle. Although, the betting pools have already added a few extra categories for all the possibilities this month presents.” 

The men ignored you now, but you had to keep your face mildly pleasant while you reminded yourself not to scratch it, so as not to risk fucking up the subtle deer makeup across your nose and cheeks. 

Humiliating.

You were the only animal at the banquet. The only thing on the menu. Everyone else got to be human.

Well, maybe not everyone… 

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Are these supposed to be this fucking tight? This can’t be right…”

Shanks tugged and pulled at the dove gray pants he’d been gifted by Sylvad’s attendants, his head snapping up at the choked sound coming from his first mate’s throat. 

“What’s wrong?”

Benn had changed quickly, the banquet already getting started when the two of them had stepped foot onto the private island. The older man had lucked out, easily fitting into the borrowed suit that was such a dark blue it was almost black, although he’d rolled up the sleeves, and traded the jacket for his purple cloak. Having some breathing room around his muscular arms made him seem slightly less annoyed since their weapons had to remain on the Red Force. 

Benn was too distracted to care about their weapons at the moment though, wheezing while he watched his mighty captain try to stuff all of his bits into those tiny pants. 

“Did you try the other pairs?” Benn failed to hide his laughter, having to clear his throat and look away.

“They're all the same size– He can’t really expect me to wear this?”

His eyes were wide, unconsciously shaking his head while he gaped at his reflection. 

The tight, gray breeches seemed designed specifically to showcase every curve of his cock and balls. The soft fabric was tucked into black, knee high boots that a certain swordsman would have coveted, but Shanks felt like he was going insane with the urge to light the borrowed clothes on fire. 

“No. I’m not going out there like this,” Shanks resisted.

“You said you’d do anything for her, captain. Don’t you wanna get on the uncle’s good side?” Benn’s laughter vanished while he draped a black cloak over his Captain’s shoulders, fastening the high collar around his throat. His thick fingers trailed down over the frilly, white shirt, checking the small, black vest that was little more than a girdle, before tying off his captain's sleeve. “This bunny of yours worth the tight pants?”

“Emperor Shanks, sir,” came a soft voice beyond the door. “The banquet is underway, is there anything I can assist– Oh I– Oh…”

He forgot what he was about to ask this poor girl when he opened the door, because the look on her face gave him everything he needed.

“You doing alright, darlin,” Shanks purred, touching one of the girl’s bright, red cheeks.

Benn chuckled, pushing through the doorway, and onto the stone path, ordering his captain to hurry it up.

“Y-yes, I am, sir,” she trembled, letting out a giggle when Shanks winked, and the sweet sound brought him back. 

“Good girl. Why don’t you show us where to go?”

~~~

“You always strut, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you strutting like this,” Benn smirked. 

“I can’t help it! These boots have heels.” 

Shanks stuck out his tongue before they passed beyond the denser trees. 

“You have been invited to join the game, Emperor Shanks.” The servant bowed her head while she gestured toward the center of the decorated courtyard. “I’ll lead your guest to his table now, unless you’d rather not accept the offer?”

“Why not,” Shanks beamed at her, though the sight of his competition made him fight not to sway on those uncomfortable heels. 

“Looks like you and your tiny pants might be outmatched, captain,” Benn whispered, patting him on the back before following the pretty girl to a table full of enemies. 

Shanks had barely made it here in time, and felt a twinge of guilt return while the last suitors moved out of the way, but the sight of her stopped the blood in his veins. 

Twilight had crept into dusk, and the dancing light of the lanterns bathed her painted skin, her white dress, and ethereal antlers, seeming to glow from within. Y/N shone like a wounded star, bleeding out her light for all of these monsters to drink. 

“The clothes suit you well, Emperor,” Cedrick purred, making his niece flinch. She hid herself away before Shanks could decipher what he’d seen behind her mesmerizing eyes. 

“I had no idea that fashionable friends could be so generous,” he charmed, stalking closer and closer until he caught her cold hand in his. “Or that I’d have the pleasure of meeting such a gorgeous, little bunny again so soon. Sorry, you're a gorgeous, little doe, aren’t you?”

She stared while he pressed his lips to her knuckles, and he took in every detail, wishing he could just grab her and run.

She’s not wearing Buggy’s locket… 

Before new anxiety could set in, Shanks had to swallow his rage at the sound of that voice. 

“Either would make for a good hunt. The nice Emperor asked you a question, Y/N,” Sylvad taunted, tapping her thigh with a decorative arrow. 

“It’s alright, bunny.” He gave her a crooked smile while she gave him nothing, so he turned to the smirking piece of shit by her side. “From what I’ve gathered, we might get to spend some more time together soon. Do I have that right, new friend?”

“I treat my friends very well, but family is everything,” Cedrick vowed. “There'll be plenty of time to discuss details later, but if you’d like to accept the offer to join this little game, then you may get to enjoy more than just our famous Sylvad hospitality.”

Shanks bought himself some time by letting his eyes rake over her again.

I’m a villain. I’m not here to rescue her.

“How could I resist?”

“Go on,” her uncle beamed with triumph, shoving the arrow into her hand. 

The woman that had captured the hearts of the only two people Shanks had ever truly loved met her Uncle’s cruel gaze before looking back up at the Emperor of the Sea. Her eyes fluttered while she offered him the arrow, keeping her hands close to her face so that he felt her breath on his fingers as pulled the symbolic weapon from her grip.

His lips parted as he became trapped in her eyes again, although that haunting pull had been replaced by a desire so hot, it rivaled the stars. Y/N's bare need felt like a gift from the heavens. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, twirling the arrow in his fingers while he bowed his head at that fallen star, before winking at her captor.

“Happy hunting, Shanks.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Giberson had finally stopped gossiping with Uncle Cedrick, so you became the prey again, smiling up at your next suitor.

Suitors.

You couldn’t help glancing toward Kat while her favorite pick stepped up alongside his brothers. 

These men should have been intimidating, and they had been, for a moment.

Yet now, the three princes of the Germa Kingdom were all staring down at you like hungry puppies.

What the fuck?

“Welcome, Ichiji, Niji, Yonji. This is my niece, Y/N. It is an honor to welcome you to our humble estate.”

“The honor is ours,” one of the princes crooned, laying a kiss with almost too much pressure against your knuckles.

Ichiji. The red head is Ichiji. 

Your mind rattled through everything you could recall while his green and blue haired brothers took their turns, their loose shirts and billowing capes moving prettily in the light breeze. 

Somehow the word “prince” had made their blatant lust seem shocking, and you almost laughed at how fucking naive that was. 

They were here to buy you, just like all the rest, and their royal hands lingered on your skin when they accepted their arrows. 

~~~

“There you are, old friend!”

“Cedrick. It’s good to see you.”

“Mr. Iceburg?”

Excitement tore through you, and you almost leapt to your feet so you could hug your dad’s old friend.

Your uncle’s old friend… 

Iceburg, the Mayor of Water 7, and the CEO of Galley-La.

You’d had an embarrassing crush on the man, even before he brought all of those shipbuilding companies under one name seven years ago, creating his own empire. Water 7 was your company’s most powerful, and profitable connection, so you’d spent a lot of your childhood on that watery island while your dad made deals with this handsome entrepreneur. 

He’d always been kind, and funny, and had never ignored or patronized you like so many of the other business contacts dad had made you spend time with. 

“Well, Y/N, don’t you look stunning,” Iceburg hummed, leaning down close to kiss your cheek. It was something he’d done many times, but your skin still flushed with heat as it always had. “I hardly recognized my little numbers girl.”

With your mouth hanging open, you felt like a child come face to face with her dream, only to find that the dream carried a bitter aftertaste. 

But it still looked fucking good. 

Your eyes traveled up and down his tall frame, snagging on the black, leather pants tucked into knee length boots. He had rarely buttoned his shirts all the way before, but now the loose fabric of his rust-colored tunic hung wide open, and you found yourself blinking up at the lovely frame it made around his tanned skin, and dark, blue chest hair.

“Don’t keep our dear friend waiting, Y/N,” Uncle Cedrick urged, tapping your hands with the arrow until you snapped out of your teenage fantasy. 

“May I,” Iceburg asked, his eyebrow raising just a bit while he watched you nod.

He’s here to buy me. He wants to buy his friend’s daughter. Wants to…

His thumb traced over your wrist before he pulled away, the rough touch of a carpenter's hand making you shiver. 

“See ya, girlie,” Iceburg winked, wrecking you for the next hopeful. 

~~~

Luckily the next hopeful didn’t matter, although it felt like you’d just lost a safety net.

“I do apologize,” whined the most ‘boring’ candidate, Mr. Halvens. “I’m afraid I will have to decline. There are certain elements here that I cannot have my name associated with.”

“Not to worry,” Uncle laughed. “You’re welcome to stay for the banquet, although I'd recommend keeping your voice down if you plan to disparage my other guests again.”

The poor man went pale, and you were disgusted with your urge to laugh at his pathetic scrambling when your uncle’s laughter rolled over you first. 

~~~

“Prince Fukaboshi,” you projected, staring up at the massive merman. There was a ring of what looked like a bubble around his waist, and his blue, spotted tail seemed to float just slightly above the ground. 

You had prepared yourself for a merman. 

Not for a fucking giant. 

“I am looking forward to winning your heart, Miss Sylvad,” he charmed, although the effect was strange from almost two stories up. Fukaboshi's regal voice rushed toward you when he leaned down, and you tried to smile under that sharp face, that cloud of light, blue hair. 

The arrow seemed to shrink once his fingers pulled it so carefully from yours, before he joined his guests at the edge of the courtyard. You could still feel the prince's gaze, like a cool weight over your skin.

~~~

How the fuck… 

The fact that the next suitors weren’t even the tallest people you’d met tonight was insane, and you had to fight not to let panicked laughter escape while you were introduced to these two brothers. 

“Thank you so much for coming. This is my niece, Y/N. I know she’s been looking forward to meeting you both, Cracker, and Katakuri.” Uncle Cedrick smiled at the frightening brothers, seeming almost giddy when he handed you their arrows. 

Cracker leaned down first, and he had to be a couple of feet taller than… He also carried a fierce scar on his face, scraping across his right eye. When he grinned, his bright, pink irises seemed to eat you up, a near manic look behind them. 

You couldn’t make sense of his clothes, so you tried not to look at the giant fucking crackers hanging around his belt, or at his light, purple hair that was tied into long buns that seemed to be crackling with fire.

Katakuri was even taller, almost as tall as the merman prince, but he went to a knee to get closer to you. His clothes were all leather with scratches and spikes artfully placed to look even more ready for violence. Pink tattoos kissed along his bare chest and arms, and the color went well with his crimson hair and eyes, but you couldn’t see more of his face below the fur scarf he had wrapped up to the bridge of his nose. 

His eyes were intense, knowing, and the sheer size of him amplified his frightening, but lovely, features. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Y/N. I hope that our families can join their strengths soon.”

The Charlotte brothers left you breathless while the courtyard buzzed with the sounds of guests enjoying their drinks as they waited for dinner to start, celebrating the thought of you being claimed by one of these lucky suitors. 

~~~

Twilight had crept into dusk, and you let yourself take a breath, knowing that the line must be coming to an end. Everyone in your mom’s book was already here, plus Iceburg, and there couldn’t be too many last minute… 

Shanks?

The Emperor of the Sea stood framed by the growing night, dressed like a wicked horseman on the hunt. He stared at you as though he were surprised to find you there. 

As though this fucking traitor hadn’t broken his promise as soon as Uncle Cedrick had shown up. The image of Shanks leaning close, smiling, and flirting with your uncle at the Cross Guild’s party felt like molten metal through your gut. Then he’d run away. You’d seen him, that stupid, red hair slipping through the crowd, fleeing the vow he’d made to you. 

Liar. Liar. LIAR! 

Somehow you stayed very deep inside yourself after Uncle’s voice made you flinch, even while this filthy leech touched your hand. You couldn’t hear what he was saying while he talked to his new best friend.

You’re just another bitch for my uncle’s money, aren’t you? Disgusting trash.

You almost laughed. Almost let it out.

Uncle Cedrick tapped your thigh with the arrow, and the visceral image of shoving it into one of Shanks' poisonous, “soft,” brown eyes felt intoxicating. 

Pathetic. You’re just like all the rest. The Great Red Haired Shanks is no hero. Just another piece of shit that would betray his love for some berry. 

Rage and nausea battled for more space within you, until your uncle shoved the arrow into your hand, and you remembered.

I can't let Uncle see how much I hate him.  

A wave of desire and power burned through you, and you let yourself feel nothing but need while you offered Shanks that weapon instead of using it against him. It felt as though you were possessed, but you welcomed the chaos of mindless lust, relishing in it when those soft eyes went dark before he finally got the fuck away from you. 

Did he just fucking thank me?

Uncle started to address the crowd, and you knew you should be listening. You tried to be here, to survive. 

Traitor. Liar. Leech. Trash.

Breathing felt impossible. Your corset seemed tighter now, making the hidden locket dig into your skin, reminding you that Buggy was all alone. 

There had never been a chance for you to have true love in your life. Not the cursed heiress of Sylvad’s. Not with your Uncle’s plans.

Your sweet, lovely clown deserved better. 

But Shanks betrayed you both. He'd abandoned Buggy after one conversation with Cedrick Sylvad, just as weak and worthless as your first two "loves." 

Uncle offered you his hand, and you stood without knowing what was next, but all that came next was applause. Happy, little vultures excited for their next meal. 

“Did you hear me,” he hissed at you before shrugging for the crowd. “I think our white stag is feeling a bit skittish, but that's nothing a little chase can't fix. The first hunter to catch her claims the first date!”

Chase?

“Run along now, niece,” Uncle Cedrick smirked, nodding toward the trees. Night had officially fallen as he led you down that stone path, the eyes of all the hunters following your every step toward the darkened forest. “You’ve got a ten minute head start, Y/N. Better decide which arrow you'd rather be pieced with tonight.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: Yes, I dressed Shanks up like Jareth the Goblin King. No, I am not sorry 😅

Who do you think is going to catch our white stag? I'm having so much fun with this game! 🥰🏹 Check out the poll below, or you can just tell me what you think about our lineup! I've been going crazy over it, especially since I try to stick as close to canon possibility as I can for some weird reason, lol.

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things | @jadeddangel | @gingernut1314 | @urlocaltwink | @blue-rae18 | @bontensbabygirl | @bbnbhm | @0-sparkling-lace-0 | @ihearthazuki | @mikisspeak | @djloveyou3000 | @mercymccann | @horse-and-writer97

Part 32

Operation Olive Branch has compiled a working spreadsheet of ways to help families fleeing from the genocide in Palestine. If you enjoyed this fic, and are able, please click the link to find a list of GoFundMe's, as well as other ways to help.

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[mamirhodessxox]

😭😭 need a fic of him just in interrupting reader while baking ( reader could be a baker and trying new recipes to add to their menu )

Cherries On Top

Cody Rhodes x Baker Fem!Reader

Desc: Y/N is trying to focus on adding new sweet treats to her bakery’s menu but her husband tends to be a distraction.

Contents: Fluff, Cody being a little annoying but in a tolerable way, SMALL indications of smut, Y/N being a lil cutie Patootie!

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Before Y/N & Cody established a relationship between them Y/N had a small little bakery filled with alll sorts of sweets & treats! Once a month she would spend an entire day whipping up pies & cakes and many other scones & sweets to add on the menu at her little bakery & do cooking youtube videos & Today was that day.

Y/N was in the middle of recording in the kitchen, Cody would walk by every now and then or stand behind her and watch over her shoulder to see what she was doing. But then he became more vocal.

She was currently working on a bourbon pound cake. “Don’t you need measuring cups for this part?” He questioned while his hand ran up and down her back while his wife shrugged “I’m just gonna add like a few shot glasses worth of bourbon.” He shot open his eyes and looked over at her camera set up and shook his head dramatically “She’s gonna get me drunk with a cake.” Since he was video bombing Y/N she decided that she would put him to a little work and start stirring the cake mix while she poured bourbon into the mix very carefully & poured him a small shot as a reward which he pridefully took

Y/N was instructing her future viewers how to carefully put the mixture into the pan & how long to leave it in the oven but Cody randomly popped back into the kitchen “Check out my gun.” She looked up as he interrupted her speech & smiled “It’s a salt shooter my dad got it for him.” “Maybe next time I make steak I can season salt onto it with my cool gun yeah?” She shook her head “No because you’re gonna break something. Just use your hands.” He glared for a second and sassily shook his head “I won’t break anything.”

6 minutes later Y/N worked on another small pastry while the cake was in the oven & suddenly the lights started flickering & she laughed a little before he walked back into camera frame “What are you whipping up now?” “Blueberry crois-“ “Hold on wait I have a quick question what did 50 cent do when he was hungry? 58.” “Your not funny.” He shrugged with a smug smile “I’m actually very funny.” She hummed nodding slowly “whatever helps you sleep at night my love.” He raised an eyebrow and looked at a bowl full of flour.

Hmmmm…….

Interesting…..

What if he just….

“CODY GARRET RUNNELS GODDAMNIT I’M GOING TO KILL YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!” Y/N stood there frozen as he actively poured flour over her head while letting out a mischievous laugh “uh ohh she said the full na-“ she splashed him in the face with water “well deserved.” She glared up at him & picked up her bowl filled with yet to be stirred eggs while grinning to herself as her husband backed up and raised his hands in defense “No…Y/N….” She squinted and nodded “your right that would be to messy.” She sighed while he let out a chuckle of relief but she caved & poured the eggs all over him making him gasp and look at her while she giggled & grabbed the flour bag before shaking what remained inside all over him before he turned starring at a glass of milk that sat on the counter next to one of the bowls it was supposed to be inside of.

Eventually she gave up on the video she tried making & giggled while playfully kissing her lover while he grinned biting her lip a little & grip at her waist “You sure you don’t wanna take it any furth-“ she nodded immediately and pulled away before prancing up the stairs to get clean “C’mon Codes your filthy.”

This was just the Cherry On Top for Cody, he immediately tossed away the kitchen towel & followed behind her before giving Y/N a light smack on the butt chuckling

“The shower is your best idea yet sweetheart.”

“Pervert.”

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[astermath]

sweet like you🍓

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: carmen stumbles across a local farmer’s market on accident and discovers a family run strawberry stand. he discovers that not only the strawberries are delicious and sweet, but so is the girl selling them to him.

word count: 2.1K

notes: yk what’s really funny,, i never realised so far a lot of my fics involve the color red. perhaps it’s becoming my new favorite color and I love to make it obvious dsgdfsj,, anyways first time writing for carmen, been obsessed w him since the bear came out. i’m a whore for jeremy allen white in case you haven’t noticed. anyways this will def get a part two!!

P.S. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated, requests are open!

Saturday was farmer’s market day.

Every Saturday morning, dozens of independent businesses, farmers and food stands would come together at Lincoln Park to sell their wares. It made for a colorful and interesting blend of smells, sounds and sights, and for most, a great way to start off their weekend.

And Carmen was no exception to this. He’d first stumbled upon it by accident on his way to the Beef. Taking a wrong turn because of his still waking morning head resulted in him walking through the park and, unavoidably, being distracted by what vendors there were. A chef at heart, he couldn’t help but look around the wide array of fresh ingredients available for purchase. He’d taken out his notebook and started writing down business names as he tried a sample every now and then. 

He held a bag of fresh paprikas in one hand, making his way down the line before he came across a peculiar and seemingly very busy stand. The fresh, sweet scent of strawberries allured him, stepping closer to take a look at what they had to offer. And it was exactly that, just strawberries. It appeared to be a family business, your mother and father packing orders, and you at the front taking them and accepting payments. For a second he just kind of stood there, bag in hand, staring at you. There was no way you were from here, Chicago doesn’t let a smile like that survive very long. Or maybe that was just his cynical mind doing its usual thing.

He snapped out of it when you glanced his way, looking to the side. He felt his cheeks getting warmer, embarrassed that just looking at a pretty girl got such a reaction from him. He’s a collected person, he should be acting like one. He took a deep breath and got in line. Lord knows what he’d be using strawberries for, he’d figure something out, might as well just eat them as a snack while the season allowed it.

“Hi! How many?” Your voice was sweet and chipper, something he couldn’t even think of being after taking orders all morning. Somehow, you kept it up.

“Oh, uh...” He looked at your display, before remembering that all you sold were strawberries, so browsing just made him look even more stupid. “How many... Strawberries?”

“Boxes. They’re 500 grams, 5 bucks each. So how many?” Your smile remained the same, though you were slightly amused by his confusion. 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He could have sank into the ground right then and there. Of course you meant boxes, who in their right mind is buying individual strawberries? “Uh... Just one box is fine, please.” He reached for his wallet while you took over a box from your mom.

“Great! That’ll be 5 dollars please.” You took the slightly crumpled bill from his hand, storing it in the tin box in front of you and quickly writing down something on a paper. Seemed like you still did everything by hand, he couldn’t imagine what a mess it would be if he had to do that at the restaurant.

“Here you go, have a great day!” The box you gave him was neatly wrapped in brown paper, with a sticker serving as a business card on top. 

“Uh...” He stared at the sticker, reading over it before looking back up at you.

Ask for her name.

“Yeah...”

Her name.

“You too.” 

You idiot.

He picked up the box and walked away, walking a little faster than usual. He was never good at talking to people, but god, that was just embarrassing. He opened up the packaging, and took out a perfectly plump strawberry. He took a bite, humming as the juicy sweetness washed over his tastebuds.

Lunch rush had just ended, and Carmen was sat outside the back of the restaurant with Richie, smoking as per usual. Except now, a small cardboard box sat between them. It was almost empty as the two of them snacked on the fruit between puffs of their cigarettes. 

“Ya know, I read somewhere on Facebook that these are supposed to help with uh... Cancer or something.” Richie said, throwing the green leafy part back into the box. 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot, cousin.” Carmy smiled to himself, back leaned against the wall as he brought the cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, why’s that huh? Cause I can’t read shit online anymore without having to do an hour of research behind it?” Richie furrowed his brows, blowing smoke out his nose.

“No, stupid,” Carmen put the cigarette out on the concrete. “Cause you’re fuckin’ smoking, man. The fuck is a strawberry gonna do against that.”

“Yeah, well... I try to stay positive, you should fucking try it sometime, ya depressed asshole.” He grabbed another strawberry. “Where d’you get these from anyways? Shit’s pretty good.”

The image of you working at the stand flashed through his mind. “Passed by some random farmer’s market this morning. Might stop by there again, got a ton of fresh produce there for not much money.”

“Speakin’ of produce.” Richie used his thumb to point back over his shoulder to the kitchen. “Place’s out of onions. Your magical farmer’s market got those? Cause we need more by the dinner shift.”

Carmen groaned, wanting to curse at Richie for not letting him know earlier. But honestly, if it gave him a chance to go back, get more delicious strawberries and possibly redeem his awkward first impression to the pretty girl there... It might not be a bad idea. He checked the time on his watch, early afternoon, you’d probably be wrapping up right now. If he was fast, he could totally still make it. “Fine, but I’m taking your car.”

“Don’t crash it.” Richie said as he got up, ready to get back inside.

“You’re the one with a suspended license.” He joked, catching the keys Richie threw at him that were totally not aimed at his head.

“Fuck you cousin.”

Parking was a bitch, as always, but Carmen had managed to find a stall selling onions for about half of what he usually got them for. He was starting to like this market, not just for the prices, but because these were all people who worked hard and loved their products. A lot of work goes into putting something out there to sell, he would know. 

He realized he might be pushing his luck if he still wanted to see you, but he decided to take the chance nonetheless and walk down the lineup. It seemed to be his lucky day, as he caught sight of your parents loading up mostly empty boxes back in the car. You were working on breaking down the stand, doing so with relative ease. You were currently folding up the tables, kneeled down onto the ground. 

Again, he stared. Honestly, how could he not? It wasn’t every day he saw someone so beautiful, and with a sweet personality to match. Granted his only interaction with you had been brief, but still, he got a good vibe from you, and he was usually so distrustful.

You looked up, and by pure coincidence, your eyes met. His eyes were so intense, hues of blue that anyone would recognize, even from a mile away. You certainly recognized them from this morning at least. Your face brightened with the same smile he saw you had before, and for a second he wondered if it was just a customer service thing. 

“Hi! Hope you enjoyed your strawberries!” You got up, holding the folded table under your arm. 

“Sure did.” He put on a bit of an awkward smile. God, why was he doing this... What was he even supposed to say?

Your eyes squinted slightly when you read the words on his shirt. “Nice shirt... Oh, wait, you work at the Beef?”

His body tenses up a little when you mention the restaurant. Given its... Peculiar reputation, that question could be followed up by any kind of statement. “Yeah, yeah, I uh... I kinda run it now.” He decided not to mention Mikey. Seemed a bit overkill to mention your dead brother to someone whose name you don’t even know.

“Ohhh, that’s you! Yeah, I’ve seen you smoking outside before.” You extend your hand and you both introduce yourselves. “I work at a café just two blocks over. You might have seen it, it’s called Odette’s?” 

Carmy nodded. He knew that place. He also knew the cranky old French lady who owned it. “Ah... Yeah. Menu still the same?”

“As long as Odette is still alive, I doubt she’ll ever let me change anything. ‘Over my dead body, cherie’”. You jokingly imitated her French accent, chuckling to yourself.

Carmen smiled, glad that he’s at least not making a complete fool out of himself now. This was good, he knew this, work and food, those were his safe topics. “Yeah, well... Maybe if she tasted one of these strawberries first, you might convince her.” 

“Huh,” You thought to yourself for a second, imagining your usual grumpy boss overflowing with glee after trying the fruit from your family’s farm. “You know what, I’ve never actually thought of that. Maybe I’ll try it out!” You smile. “You know I’ve been meaning to try and serve some of my pastries there. I’m a huge baking fanatic, but she’s so... Set in her ways. I don’t know if my amateur baking skills could possibly convince her, no matter how tasty the strawberries I use are.”

“Yeah, I know what that’s like...” Carmen thought about his crew, and how much they loved their so called ‘system’. Change was good, change meant progress, but it was also scary. On that part, he didn’t blame her boss for refusing to switch things up. “If you want, I could help you out. I’m a full time chef, so... Always willing to taste test.” He hoped his poorly masked excuse to stay in touch came across as friendly, and not pushy. He always felt like he was overthinking everything when he was trying to socialize, like he was reading off some type of script. Your chipper personality made things a tad easier, at least. 

“Really?” You seem to brighten up even more. Carmen is sure there’s light shining from your face from how excited you look, but he doesn’t mind. It’s amusing, almost... Cute.

“Yeah, I don’t see why not. Just uh... Let me know when.” He puts his hands in his pockets.

“Of course!” You pause, realizing he’s probably expecting you to give him some kind of contact information. Unless he was planning to use telepathic communication. You put down the folded table. “Right, sorry, uh...” You laughed awkwardly and pulled out a pen and an old receipt from your back pocket to scribble your number on, before handing it to him. “There we go!” 

Carmen’s eyes went over the number, putting it in his wallet so he wouldn’t forget to save it later. “Cool, cool... So uh, text you later.” He silently cringed at his own words, trying painfully hard to play it cool. 

“Yeah, totally!” Your mom called your name, and you look over your shoulder, seeing her gesture to you to hurry up. “Be right there, mama!” You chuckled. “Sorry, duty calls! But yeah, I’ll hear from you. And if I don’t, I know where you work, Berzatto.” 

He chuckles slightly at your joking threat. “Sure, I’ll hold you to that.” He gives you a curt wave before walking off and letting you go back to work. 

He really hoped you didn’t mean that “threat”. He’d rather die than let you see him at the Beef right when they got such a bad hygiene rating. 

He was laid down on the couch late at night, watching an episode on the food network about an olive farm in Italy. He wondered if your family’s farm was anything like this one, and remembered he hadn’t even saved your number or texted you yet. Carmen rubbed his sleepy eyes and pulled out his phone, saving your number under a new contact and typing out a few quick texts. He stared at the screen for a few seconds, realized he was overthinking it and fell asleep not long after, the sound of an elderly Italian woman speaking on TV in the background.

[unknown]: hey, it’s carmen

[unknown]: guy from the beef

[unknown]: next thursday work for you?

You groaned in your bed, looking over at your phone and cursing yourself for forgetting to turn off your notifications. “The fuck...” Your eyes squinted at the brightness of the screen. A sleepy smile adorned your face when you read his name, saving his contact and texting something back quickly before putting the phone away and going back to sleep.

[y/n]: for sure!

[y/n]: let’s do 4:30 PM? café closes at 4 anyways so we’ll have the kitchen to ourselves :)))

[persicipen]

ノ FICS FOR GAZA ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

all fics i’m working on and that are listed here are available for sponsorship through fics for gaza project. if you wish to sponsor any wip, please refer to @ficsforgaza for more information.

₊ ˙ ⊹ . how it works ノ donate to a verified fundraiser and send me a screenshot with a proof of donation through inbox, together with information which fic you wish to sponsor. the ask will not be posted.

USEFUL INFO — minors do not interact! i write adult fics for genshin impact and honkai star rail, mostly afab reader, no pronouns or gendered forms used unless stated in content warnings at the beginning of the fic (despite me adding fem labels to avoid displeasing someone).

₊ ˙ ⊹ . UPDATE 08ノ09ノ24 — a lovely soul sponsored two kinktober prompts (emotionally charged sex with zhongli and secret gothic romance with capitano) and four of short stories for a later date!

₊ ˙ ⊹ . UPDATE 14ノ09ノ24 — another big hearted soul sponsored ALL remaining kinktober prompts and additional short stories! please stay tuned for any future changes to this post.

( ≽��≼ ) ノ WHAT’S AVAILABLE…

nothing at the moment! working on completing the stories below!

( ≽⩊≼ ) ノ PREVIOUSLY COMPLETED…

ノ FIVE FICS KINKTOBER ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

first priority. prompts may slightly change (the base stays the same, i may add content warnings) or switch order. regardless of the word count (which definitely should be above 2k per fic as my average writing length is around that), each prompt is for an individual character and $5 to sponsor ノ except for the last one featuring more characters for $10 to sponsor.

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . emotionally charged sex ノ zhongli

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . orgasm denial ノ jiaoqiu

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . corporal punishment ノ kamisato ayato

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . gothic romance ノ capitano

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . gangbang ノ aventurine, dr. ratio and sunday, inspired by their shared scene during the 2.1 penacony quest (reader is sunday’s servant)

ノ SEPARATE WORKS ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ .

you can pick a short story from the list and sponsor it for $5 to force me to write them faster ノ a lighthearted joke, but technically true. i will feel obligated to finish them in the chronological order of receiving proof of donations. no sponsoring for longer wips for now.

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . feixiao’s favourite concubine visits her in a tent during the resting hour to bring a special scroll from lingsha…

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . waking up from a nightmare where you died — aventurine . dr. ratio . sunday…

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . helping wriothesley fight the fever in a certain way…

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . dragon zhongli returns from the archon war and claims his gifts, including a young priestess sent to welcome him in the shrine…

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . dendro archon alhaitham testing your loyalty by subduing you to his vines and flowers, and a certain pollen…

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . a maid at the dawn winery brings breakfast to diluc, but he wants to eat something else…

SPONSORED! ₊ ˙ ⊹ . moon rage takes the best of jiaoqiu’s foxian instincts in your presence…

[morgana-larkin]

HMM,,, if i dare request an either chessy or melissa fic.. with... like them having a breast/lactation kink and when doing the deed- like praising reader and making them suck her tits ETC do whatever u feel is necessary with this if u even want to write it.... :) /// also inexperienced reader and/ or mommy kink....

Dare accepted! I also did a little surprise and did both of them! I don’t see Chessy as having a mommy kink though so I didn’t do that for her. So it’s quite long since I wrote about both and tried to make it as cute as possible. So good luck! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: you might have noticed that I added 2 other characters to my masterlist, adult Misty from yellowjackets and Moiraine Sedai from wheel of time. Send prompts for any character on my masterlist! I do it all, angst (with reluctance), fluff, smut, age gap.

Her Good Girl

Warnings: ok there’s a small list. Breast kink, mommy kink, praise kink, so much fluff, semi public smut, smut

Words: 6.9k (I have no regrets)

Melissa

“When are you gonna ask her out?” Barb says to Melissa one morning.

“Ask who out?” Melissa says, even though she knows exactly who Barb is talking about.

“She means y/n.” Janine pipes up and Melissa and Barb turn to the trio.

“Ya, I mean you guys are so flirty I’m surprised you aren’t already together.” Jacob says.

“It’s really obvious.” Gregory adds and Melissa turns back around and face Barb.

“What they said.” Barb says.

“I just, I’m not ready.” Melissa says. “Where is she anyway? She’s usually here by now.” Melissa adds as she sees the time.

20 minutes later they all get up to go greet their students and Melissa sees you’re still not here. They walk to their classrooms and then Melissa sees you coming in the front door in a hurry and your hair is wet.

“If you’re not gonna ask her out then at least put the heart eyes away.” Barb teases her as Melissa looks at you longingly and with soft eyes.

You end up catching up to them as you all make your way to your classrooms. “Hey you two.” You tell them.

“Hey hun.” Melissa says right away.

“Morning sweetheart.” Barb says after looking at Melissa with a smile and shake of her head.

“Running late this morning?” Melissa asks you.

“Ya, I forgot to set my alarm clock and woke up 40 minutes ago. Took the world’s fastest shower and didn’t have time to blow dry it.” You tell her. You then both say bye to Barb as you reach her class then you both continue on to yours.

“Well I think you still look good, wet hair or dry.” She tells you with a smile.

“Thanks.” You tell her. Unknown to you is where Melissa's mind is wandering right now seeing your hair wet. Things the two of you could do in the shower. Then Melissa takes a deep breath and tries to think of other things to calm herself as she feels herself getting wet between the legs and it’s not even 8am yet.

“Did you have a coffee?” She asks you and you shake your head.

“I’m gonna get a headache from the caffeine withdrawal until lunch.” You say with a pout.

“Well here, I still have half left. Take the rest of mine.” She tells you and hands you her mug.

“Oh no, that’s your coffee, you should have it. I’ll just power through until lunch.”

“Hun, I’m offering it to you. Just take it, I had enough for the morning.” She tells you.

“Are you sure?” You ask and she nods with a smile. “Alright, if you insist.” You say and you take her mug and take a sip. You hum at the taste of the caffeine and you smile.

“Do you want to go out with me?” She asks as you reach your classroom. You choke on the coffee and begin coughing. She pats and rubs your back until you stop.

“What?” You ask her, you didn’t know if you heard her right.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” She repeats and you smile at her.

“Yes, I’d love to.” You tell her and she beams.

“How does this Saturday sound?” She asks you.

“Sounds perfect.” You tell her and kiss her cheek, she blushes and touches the spot where you kissed her cheek and smiles.

*7 weeks later*

It’s Saturday night and you’re both cuddling on her couch, finishing the movie. The credits roll and you reluctantly pull away from her and stretch and yawn.

“I should probably get going.” You say and stand up.

“Alright hun. Will I see you tomorrow?” She asks you and you nod. She gets off the couch and goes to where you’re gathering your things near the door. You stand back up and you look at her. You lean in and give her a quick peck, then you give another and another. Then you keep your lips on hers and end up making out with her. At some point you end up moaning and she pulls away. “As much as I would love to keep kissing you, your moaning is gonna make me want more.” She tells you.

You told her you were a virgin 3 weeks ago when she asked you if you wanted to have sex and she told you to let her know when you were ready. You felt so lucky to have her, she was so patient and understanding with you. You leaned in and kissed her again and she pulled back after 2 seconds before it could continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow hun.” She tells you. You were about to put your shoes on when you looked at her again, her smiling at you and you realised, you’re ready now.

“Actually, I think I’d like to stay.” You tell her and she quirks an eyebrow at you. “I’d like to stay and keep kissing you.” You tell her and walk towards her and put your hands on her stomach gently. She flinches and looks shocked and then you start moving them up, towards her chest. She stops your hands by grabbing your wrists and looks at you, still holding your wrists.

“Hun, what are you doing?” She asks you and you smile at her.

“I’m ready, and I want you right now.” You tell her and she still looks at you.

“Are you certain? Like 100% certain?” She tells you.

“Yes, I want you to be the one that takes my virginity Mel.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Then come to my bedroom.” She tells you and makes you go first. You walk upstairs and as soon as you make it to the top. She spins you around and kisses you, and then picks you up and places your legs around her waist. She carries you the rest of the way to her bedroom and she gently places you on the bed. She goes to close the door and then makes her way back to you.

You scoot up a little further on the bed and Melissa crawls on top of you and kisses your lips. She grabs the hem of your shirt and then pulls back to look at you and you nod. She takes your shirt off and she looks at you. “God you’re so beautiful.” She tells you and you bring her back to kissing you. She trails down to your neck and kisses your neck then begins sucking on it and you gasp and arch your back. Melissa sneaks her hand under you and unclips your bra. She takes it off with your help and she throws it somewhere on the ground. She switches to the other side of your neck and she cups both of your breasts in her hands and squeezes them. You moan at that and she smirks before trailing down again to your chest and places kisses all over your chest before placing her mouth around a nipple. You grab her hair when she places her mouth on a nipple as the feeling is heavenly.

“Omg Mel. That feels so good!” You tell her and she smirks, you don’t see it but you feel it. After a minute, she switches to the other nipple and you buck your hips. After another minute of her swirling her tongue around on your nipple and sucking it, she pulls away and moves down. She takes your pants off with little effort and she places her fingers on your underwear then looks at you for confirmation again. You nod your head and she slides your underwear off slowly, just enjoying seeing your whole body without anything on it, and she’s the only privileged one to ever see it, and that makes her happy. She rubs her hands up and down your legs and thighs, just feeling your entire body. She lies down to place her mouth on your clit when you speak up. “Wait.” You say and she stops immediately and looks at you. “I want to see you too. I’m completely bare here and you still have all your clothes on.” You tell her and she grins.

“I know, that’s how I like it. But don’t worry, you’ll see my body as well. After I pleasure you first.” She says with a wink and you blush. “Are you ready?” She asks you and you nod. She wastes no more time after that, she dives down to your clit and starts swirling her tongue on it and you moan out at the feeling and you grab her hair again. She then goes lower to your entrance and you gasp. “Oh Amore, you taste so good.” She tells you then sticks her tongue in your entrance and you gasp loudly. She takes her tongue out then immediately sticks it back in again and repeats for a couple minutes. She pulls back and you whine, “have you touched yourself before?” She asks you and you look at her.

“Only with a vibrator.” You tell her and her eyes shine at that.

“So you’ve never fingered yourself?” She asks and you shake your head. “Oh Amore, I feel so privileged.” She tells you and you blush. “I’m going to stick my finger in but if you want me to stop then let me know ok?” She asks and you nod. “It might hurt a bit at first but that’s because you’re not used to it.” She says and you nod again. She starts playing with your clit and you buck your hips and she lined her middle finger up with your entrance and she slowly inserts it. You gasp out when she’s entering and then when it’s in all the way, you moan. It does hurt a bit but she stays there until you nod at her to tell her the pain stopped. She slowly slides it back out then slides it right back in again and you begin to moan again.

“Can you go faster?” You tell her and she smiles and speeds up. You gasp and grab her hair. While she’s still fingering you, she leans down to you and kisses your lips. Her thumb goes to your clit and you gasp in her mouth and she slides her tongue in and you moan. She slows down and slides a second finger in and you arch your back and gasp in the kiss again. You feel you're close to coming and your legs start to shake and Melissa notices.

“Oh baby, are you close?” She asks you and you nod. “Do you want to cum for mommy?” She asks and you don’t even flinch at the nickname she gives herself, in fact it turns you on even more.

“Yes I want to cum for you mommy.” You say and she grins.

“Then cum for me baby.” She tells you and you come immediately. Melissa slows her fingers down and gently pulls them out. You take a minute to catch your breath and Melissa comes back in with a cloth. When did she leave? She gently wipes your centre then looks at you with a smile. “How was that?” She asks you.

“Fucking incredible!” You tell her and she beams. She comes up to you and cuddles you. After about 10 seconds you go and straddle her lap.

“Something you want Amore?” She tells you with a quirked eyebrow.

“I want you.” You tell her.

“You just had me.” She teases you.

“I want to see your body and touch it and make you feel good too.” You tell her.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to, the first time might be a bit overwhelming.” She tells you and strokes your cheek with the same hand she used to finger you. You grab her hand and stick the 2 fingers she used in your mouth and lick them. She looks at you with so much lust in that moment, you think she might fuck you again. You moan around her fingers and she rubs her legs together. You remove her fingers from your mouth and you reach for her shirt and she nods before you take it off. You look at her stomach and chest and you have to wipe some drool off that slipped out and she giggles. You reach in the back and unclip her bra and you practically ripped it off. Once it’s off, you freeze and stare at her breasts. They’re so big and so soft looking, they’re irresistible, they’re perfect. “Go on and touch them if you want. I like it when people touch them and suck on them. It’s a kink of mine.” She tells you and you immediately cup both of them and then attach your mouth around a nipple and she moans. “Yes baby, just like that.” She tells you and you begin sucking on it and she grabs your hair. “Yes that’s it, suck mommy’s tit.” She says and you moan which makes her buck her hips due to the vibration on her nipple.

She practically traps your head there since she’s holding your hair but you don’t care, you feel like you can spend all day just licking and sucking her nipples.

“Baby, can you be a good girl and suck mommy’s other tit?” She asks you and you immediately pull back and attach your mouth on the other one and start sucking. “Good girl.” She says and you moan. She sees that you like getting praised, she thinks you might have a praise kink. You take her pants and underwear off after you pull back and you look at her completely naked and you blush. “Does my baby like what she sees? Do you like mommy’s body?” She asks as she strokes your cheek.

“Yes mommy, I love your body.” You tell her and she smiles.

“How about you stick your cute little fingers in me and put that amazing mouth of yours back on my nipples? How does that sound?” She asks you.

“I like it.” You tell her and you go to stick your fingers in and realise you have no idea where to put them. Melissa notices this and she guides your fingers to her entrance and you stick a finger in and she moans.

“That’s it baby, put another one in, don’t be shy.” She tells you and you stick another one in and you start sliding in and out of her. You think that she feels amazing around your fingers and you don’t want to ever pull out. She then leans down so her boobs are in mouths reach and you wrap your mouth around a nipple and you start sucking. Melissa starts moaning like crazy and it turns you on and you rub your thighs together. Melissa notices the action and looks at you with a smirk. “Oh, does my baby like the noises that mommy makes for her?” She asks you and you nod. “If you like I can fuck you with a strap after.” She tells you and you nod.

You go and suck on the other nipple and Melissa continues moaning and she is now riding your fingers while you continue to slide in and out of her, matching her rhythm. She grabs your hair and she starts shaking and you look up at her face while still sucking on her nipple.

“That’s it baby, I’m so close, rub my clit.” She commands and you obey. You bring your other hand in between her legs and you find her clit and start rubbing it. Seconds after she comes with a high pitched gasp. She takes your fingers out of her and puts them in her mouth and licks them clean. She moans when she’s licking the taste of herself off your fingers while looking at you. She smirks then gets off the bed and heads to her closet.

“Wait! Where are you going?” You ask her and she turns around.

“Don’t worry, just to my closet. I made you a promise didn’t I?” She says and you look confused. Did she? You can’t remember. She then pulls out a strap and puts it on and that’s when you remember. She walks towards you with it on and you wonder how she can look breathtaking no matter what. She climbs on top of you and puts her hands all over your stomach and chest. “So beautiful, and all mine.” She says softly and you moan. “Do you like being mine baby?” She asks you and you’re back to only being able to nod as you can’t find your voice. She wants to get you more wet to not hurt you as you only ever had a finger in you before and that was 10 minutes ago. She grabbed her smallest dildo but she wants to be cautious. She then remembers that you might have a praise kink, so she experiments with that. “Well, you don’t have to worry baby, you are mine, you’re my good girl.” She tells you and you feel all the wetness from your mouth shoot to your core at her praises. She checks your entrance and sure enough, you’re wet enough now. She lines the strap up and looks at you. “This might hurt a bit baby, but if it hurts too much then tell me straight away ok?” She says and you nod.

She then starts to slide in the tip and you feel it start to fill you. She slides more in and you feel yourself stretch to accommodate it. It does start to hurt a bit but not to the point of being painful, especially if it’s also mixed with pleasure. She slides in fully and you gasp.

“You ok baby?” She asks you, voice full of concern. It takes you a few seconds but then you look at her and nod. “Do you still feel a bit of pain?” You nod at that and she stays still, she does move a bit but only to kiss you. You start to relax and then you notice the pain disappeared and only pleasure remains and you start to squirm. Melissa feels you squirm and looks at you. “Am I correct to assume you want me to start moving?” She says and you nod. She smiles at you then starts sliding in and out of you.

You start gasping and moaning as you feel it slide out then immediately fill you back up. You look at her and of course it’s a goddess that’s making you feel this and you pull her head down and kiss her. Melissa is taken by surprise by it but isn’t complaining, she likes that you get a sudden urges to kiss her, it makes her feel wanted. She smiles into the kiss while she’s sliding in and out of you, then moves a hand down to rub your clit. You gasp into the kiss at the intense pleasure you’re feeling. With her lips kissing yours, her boobs squashed on your body, her finger rubbing your clit and the dildo sliding in and out of you at a fast pace. All that together makes you come fast and strong.

She slides out of you and removes the strap. She goes to get a cloth and cleans you up. You yelp at first due to sensitivity but she makes sure to be as careful as possible and then cleans herself up. She lays down next to you and you immediately seek her body out for comfort and she doesn’t hesitate to hold her arms out and bring you close to her, with your head on her chest.

“Do you like that hon?” She asks you once your body has stopped shaking.

“Ya I did.” You tell her with a huge smile. “Did you?”

“Ya, I loved it.” She says and you yawn. “Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” She tells you.

“You promise?” You ask her.

“I promise.” She says and you get more comfortable and immediately fall asleep, Melissa stroking your head and finally feeling like she’s where she’s meant to be. She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Chessy

You catch Chessy's attention the first time you came over to the house. You knock on the door and Nick runs over to answer it. When you enter with him, Chessy is walking over to go get Hallie and Annie for lunch.

“Hey Chessy, I want you to meet my sister y/n.” He tells her and she gives him a look. She knew he had a younger sister but didn’t know there was such an age gap. You look to be 15 years younger.

“Hi nice to finally meet you.” She says and you look over at Nick then stick your hand out to shake hands with her.

“Hi, nice to meet you too. Nick has talked about all of you and wanted to finally meet his household.” You say. “Nick, I didn’t know you talked about me, I’m honoured.” You tell him and he chuckles.

“Forgive me for asking, but it seems like there’s a noticeable age gap between you too.” Chessy says and you both look at her and smile.

“Ya, 16 years, but we love each other regardless.” Nick says and puts a hand around your shoulders and you giggle.

“Wow, quite a difference. Anyway, lunch is ready, and Nick mentioned you’d be coming over so there’s enough for you to have some as well.” She says and you smile at her.

“Thank you so much!” You tell her and she blushes. She then scurries away quickly to go get the twins. Nick looked at the interaction with interest. He knows that Chessy is interested in both genders and he knows that you’re interested in women, a bit older women too. You mentioned your type to him before and now that he thinks about it, Chessy fits it perfectly. He decides not to say anything as he’s finally getting to reconnect with you in person again after not having seen you for a few years.

A month goes by and since you recently moved to California to get to know Nick’s family more, you lived in an apartment building about half an hour drive away. You mentioned it to Nick when he says you could drop by more instead of a few times a month. You told him that it’s a lot of gas and you got an apartment to pay for and not a great paying job. He then offered to let you move into the house, rent free and after a little insisting and Chessy telling you that it’s a great idea, you accept.

A couple months go by and you and Chessy spend a lot of time together. The twins notice it and also notices the looks you give each other and of course one of them brings it up and embarrasses both of you.

“Are you guys dating?” Hallie asks you both and Chessy’s cheeks turn red and you choke on your juice as you were taking a sip and start coughing. Chessy immediately goes and gives you a few pats and rubs your back to help with the coughs.

“Hal, why would you think we’re dating?” She asks her and the twins look at each other.

“You mean you’re not?” Annie asks and you and Chessy both shake your heads.

“But you spend a lot of time together, you keep giving each other looks that our parents give each other and you’re constantly being touchy.” Hallie explains and you both look at the twins then you look at each other.

“Ok get out of here you trouble makers.” Chessy says and shoos them away. She then turns back to you when they leave. “Hey I’m sorry abo-hm.” she starts but is cut off by your lips on hers.

And that was the start of many kisses and a relationship.

3 months pass and it’s the summertime and Chessy planned a date with you after Nick gave her time off for it, not knowing you and Chessy are dating.

Chessy brings you horseback riding, you take one horse though and she brings you a good distance away from the house. It’s about a 15-20 minute ride. She then gets off and helps you get down and then ties the horse to a tree then sets up a blanket on the ground.

“Did you take me on a picnic date?” You ask her and wrap your arms around her waist and kiss her shoulder blade.

“Ya, is that ok?” She asks, concerned you might not like it.

“Yes, I love it.” You tell her and she turns around in your arms. You both are the same height so she easily kisses your lips and wraps her arms around your neck.

“You know what I love?” She tells you and you look at her curious, you haven’t said the L word yet, but you know you both love each other.

“What?” You ask.

“You” she says and you smile.

“Well I love you too.” You tell her and she smiles and kisses you again.

You both have a great picnic date as she made both your favourite finger foods and you dive into great conversation.

At one point you feed her a piece of fruit and the juice runs down to your arm a bit and she goes and licks it up right away. You let out a small moan and you jump at her and crash your lips together.

“Woah.” Chessy says and it takes her by surprise, so while she still is able to put her hands on your hips, she still falls back on her back, with you on top of her.

When you pull back, you both stare at each other and Chessy smiles up at you. “Hi beautiful.” She tells you and you blush.

“Hi, sorry about that.” You say at bit embarrassed.

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I liked the surprise.” She tells you and moves some of your hair behind you that’s blocking your face. You look at her and you see the care she has for you and it overwhelms you and warms your heart. You knew she cares about you and you always blushed when she did things for you as you weren’t used to it from a partner.

Chessy knew your past relationships weren’t the best and didn’t last long as you told her about them. When you told her then she wanted to show you how a partner should treat you, with respect and love. She let you set the pace as she doesn’t want to push or pressure you, you told her that you came close to having sex once with a partner but then backed out as it didn’t feel right.

You kiss her again and neither of you pull back. Chessy knows she should pull back now as she’s getting turned on with your body on her like this and you’re making out with her. She doesn’t pull back and accidentally lets a moan slip out and her cheeks go red as you pull back.

“Do you want to have sex?” You ask her confused and Chessy is wondering how you don’t know how you effect her.

“Yes, I have for about 2 months.” She tells you. “But I’m letting you decide when you’re ready and I don’t want to pressure you.” She tells you honestly and you look at her with such love.

You cup her cheek and she leans into your touch. “How did I get so lucky with you?” You say and she hums.

“I feel like I’m the lucky one.” She says. You suddenly look around and you see there’s no one around and then you take your dress off. Chessy looks at you and cheeks go red as a tomato. “What are you doing?” She asks and you smile. You know she won’t do anything unless you tell her you’re ready but you decide to tease her first.

“What you don’t like what you see?” You ask her and you drop your smile, to play the act.

“What? Of course I do, but hon, I don’t think you realise the effect you have on me.” She says and she accidentally moves her hips a bit and rubs her thighs together.

“Well what if I told you I want you to touch me?” You tell her with a lower voice and lean down and scoot down a little bit and push her shirt up enough to see skin. You then lean down more and trail kisses up her stomach.

“Hon, I-”

“I want you to touch me, all. over.” You punctuate at the end and you slide your hands under her shirt and they land on her bra before she grabs your wrists and pulls them out of her shirt. You could tell she’s almost at a breaking point and you push a little further. You lean down and suck on her neck and she gasps. She lets go of your wrists and pulls your head back.

“Hon, please I-” she then freezes when you unclip your bra and take it off.

“Do you wanna touch them?” You ask her and she lets out a whine. “Go on then, I want you Chessy.” And at that she snaps. She flips you both over so she’s on top and she dives right to a nipple and starts sucking. You gasp and moan as she puts that experienced mouth on you and finds out quickly what you like. You take the blue sweater off of her and Chessy takes her top off quickly. She then goes to your neck and leaves hickeys all over your neck and chest. “You know my brother will find out as soon as we get back home” you tell her and she smirks.

“He’ll be happy to know you’re being taken cared of.” She says and rubs her hands up your body, starting at your hips. You grab her head and pull her down to kiss you and you unclip her bra and throw it somewhere. You then undo the button on her pants and pull them down. They don’t go far as you both refuse to break the kiss and you move your legs to try and pull them down. It was rather unsuccessful but it did give her a great opportunity since her legs are now right in between yours. She breaks away from the kiss with a laugh at your attempt and kicks them off. “I know you teased me to see how far you could go before I break and believe me, you’ll pay for it next time, but for now, since this is your first time, I want you to enjoy this.” She tells you and in retrospect you probably should have listened but you couldn’t with her boobs right in your face.

You sit up and immediately put a nipple in your mouth while cupping it with your hand and your other hand around her waist to help keep yourself up. You hum as you suck on it and can’t believe how many times you imagined them and how they would feel and taste, and now you know.

“Do you like them honey? Do you like sucking on them?” She asks when she heard you hum. You nod as your mouth is occupied at the moment and she grabs your head. “Suck on them all you want, baby. Your mouth feels so good on them.” She says and when you give a rather hard suck on them, her mouth hangs open, lost in the pleasure. You spend a good few minutes just enjoying her breasts, licking and sucking on them and enjoying the noises she’s making.

While Chessy is used to her breasts getting attention, she’s not used to this much, and she’s loving it. The men she’s dated as only ever paid like 30 seconds on them and when right to her pussy, the women usually about a minute before right to her pussy. And while she knows you’re both soaking wet right now, she can’t help but feel how good it is to have this much attention on them, it’s a kink she never knew she had.

“Oh my good girl, you’re just in love with sucking on them aren’t you?” She says when you pull away.

“Yes, I just love how big they are. I feel like I can suck on the whole thing.” You tell her and she stops you before you do. She’ll let you next time but for now, she wants this to move along. If you’re anywhere she is right now then you’re soaking wet in between your legs.

“Woah there, baby. You can next time but right now, I’ve been wondering how you taste.” She says and you smile.

“Can I sit on your face?” You suddenly ask as she takes your underwear off.

“What?” She asks. Your question caught her off guard, she knows she’ll accept, she wants to taste you and doesn’t matter to her who’s on their back.

“I heard about face sitting and was curious and want to try it.” You ask and she smiles.

“Of course.” She says to you and you get up while she gets on her back. You go up to her face and you align your entrance with her mouth and then lower yourself on her. The first lick she does and you both moan. She thinks you taste amazing and you think it felt really good and you both want more.

She starts licking all over your entrance and eventually sticks her tongue in and starts sliding in and out of you. You gasp and fall forward but she catches you and keeps you up by holding your waist. You end up bucking your hips and grab and yank her hair by accident as the pleasure is just so good. You feel bad for pulling her hand but she just moans and you think that either she didn’t mind or she liked it. You try again and she moaned again and realised that she likes her hair being pulled. She lifts you up a bit to speak. “You can do whatever you want to me, baby.” She says and then brings you back down on her mouth. Only this time she goes to your clit and you really start bucking your hips. You think that grabbing her hair isn’t enough so you put your hands back and grab her nipples. You squeeze them and she moans which vibrates on your clit and you let out a hitch pitch gasp as it took you by surprise and it felt good. You keep squeezing them as her moaning brings you more pleasure and before you know it, you’re close.

“Oh Chessy, I’m so close.” And she gives you a thumbs up to tell you to let go and cum. You do immediately after and Chessy licks it all up. You then get off of her and collapse next to her.

“Did that take a lot of you, baby?” She asks when she sees you spread out like a starfish and breathing hard, and you just nod. She just scoots up next to you and puts a hand over your chest. You turn to face her and kiss her lips, moaning when you taste yourself on her and that gives you a wave of energy. You take her underwear off and then go back wrapped up in her arms. While Chessy thinks you took them off to be able to feel her body on yours to calm down, you actually took them off to finger her. You bring her leg and put it over yours, then you bring a hand down in between her legs and immediately slide a finger in her entrance. She immediately bucks her hips, gasps and brings a hand to your arm, and mouth wide open. She hasn’t had anything in her in a few years and it feels so good. You add another one and slide them in and out of her slowly at first. “Baby, can you go faster?” She begs and you smile.

“I thought you said I could do whatever I want to you?” You tell her and she whines. Fuck sakes, she did say that.

“Didn’t think you’d make me regret saying it.” She jokes with you between gasps. You take pity on her as she made you feel really good and you want to do that for her. You go much faster and she hangs her mouth open again and gasps like crazy. “Oh god, yes baby, that feels so good.” She says and you risk it and add a third finger in her and she falls back on her back, overcome with pleasure. You put your other hand on her clit and rub it while you lean down and suck her nipple. She ends up leaning on her forearms with her legs spread wide open for you and she starts shaking. “Oh god, oh god baby, I’m so fucking close.” She says and you go and suck her other nipple. She comes immediately as you start sucking. You pull out of her and put your fingers in your mouth and lick them. She looks at you as you do that and as soon as you moan at the taste of her, she pounces at you and you end up on your back and her on top.

She wastes no time in kissing you and immediately sticks two fingers in you and you moan into the kiss. She curls her fingers in you while fingering you and you see stars and have to shut your eyes. She puts her thumb on your clit and rubs in a circular motion and you do a huge gasp and start shaking.

“Let go baby, it’s ok, I’ve got you.” She tells you and you immediately come. She pulls out of you then licks her fingers. She didn’t bring any cloths so the blanket will have to do, and cleans you both up. She the lays down next to you to help you both calm down with skin to skin.

“Hmm, I really enjoyed that.” You tell her and she giggles.

“Well I’m glad. Cause I really enjoyed it too.” She tells you and you smile. You end up getting dressed, packing everything up and get back on the horse after about 20 minutes of cuddling and you head back.

On the way back you get in a little teasing mood and you slip your hand under her shirt to cup her boob and rub her clit through her pants and underwear.

“What are you doing, baby?” She says and makes no attempt to stop you even though she could.

“Teasing you.” You simply say.

“Baby, if you keep at it then I’ll stop this horse and take you against the nearest tree.” She tells you. And you pull away from her clit but you put both your hands on her boobs after unclipping her bra.

“I just love these.” You say and she hums and leans back a bit, leaning into your touch. You both make it back to the house, Chessy nearly took you against a tree twice, and you end up clipping her bra back on. She brings the horse to the stable, she gets off then she helps you off. Once you land on the ground though, you wrap a leg around her waist and kiss her. She picks you up and brings you up against the stable wall and continues kissing you.

“Oh my god! Not what a brother wants to see!” You hear and you both pull back and see Nick there covering his eyes with a hand. Chessy puts you down and goes to put the horse away properly and give him something to eat.

“Sorry Nick.” You tell him and then laugh.

“Ya, sorry boss.” Chessy says and walks up behind you, wraps her arms around your waist and places her head on your shoulder.

“I had a feeling you two were together but I did not want to find out that way.” He complains and you and Chessy giggle. “Are those hickeys on your necks?” He says then looks to the horse and the fact you were gone for 3 hours. “Oh my god, on second thought don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. But Chessy, she is my little sister, so if you hurt her then I will fire you.” He tells her and points a finger at her.

“Well I guess it’s good that I have no plans to hurt her.” She says and gives your shoulder a kiss.

“And y/n, even though you’re my sister, Chessy has been with us for many years, so hurt her and you’ll have to deal with me.” He tells you and you turn to Chessy.

“Well I guess I’m stuck with you then.” You tell her with a huge smile. She responds to that with a hard kiss to your cheek and tickles your stomach and you giggle. You break out of her embrace and run away from her tickles and she runs after you, both of you laughing. Nick watches you run both away and shakes his head with a smile. “Such dorks.” He says out loud.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers. 

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge. 

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him. 

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full. 

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear. 

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking. 

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

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@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

[fordpinesthemanyouare]

Ford x Fem!Reader

Math Assistant Pt.1

Summary: Ford needs himself an assistant, Stanley makes an online post for him and BOOM there you are, coming to meet him for an interview at the diner.

Warnings: Erm... this is a nothing sandwich I THINK. Please let me know if I should add something

A/N: My brothers in christ please this is my first fic that I wrote on a whim, I had an idea and I started writing. I have never written fan ficiton in my life so pls be nice... also who up wit dey werm to Stanford Pines HOOBA HOOBA!!!!! Okay also I want to write SMUT for this so imagine this is like the really really really long winded plot to the porno. K thanks bye read if u want or dont i dont control you.

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Ford shook his head at Stanley who was seated in front of a new computer now placed in the living room, “I’m still confused on why we should be posting the ad listing “online” rather than the local paper, or putting up flyers around town.” Ford used air quotes for emphasis, he still found the whole idea strange, he liked the computer for being a tool he could use to further research. He didn't like it so much as a vessel for finding candidates for a job he was offering, the thought that he had no idea who was communicating with him unsettled him a bit. Especially knowing the kind of work he was going to be having this future assistant… well assist with.

“Because yer never going to find someone with the qualifications yer asking for in this town” Stan looked over his shoulder at a crossed arm Ford. “Hiring someone for a summer job who has a PhD in Application Math, whatever that means-“

“Applied Mathematics, Stanley” Ford interrupted.

“Whatever it is you're not going to find that here, you and fiddleford are probably the only people in this town to actually have a college degree” he said with a chuckle, turning back to the computer. He was clicking around on some website that Ford had never heard of, let alone just recently finding out what the internet was. “I'm setting up a job listing on some of the local college websites, ya know for people that are studying or just done studying”. The clicking of the mouse and the typing of keys continued as Ford ran the motion through his head, overthinking perhaps every outcome of Stanley posting that job listing. Ultimately though Ford knew he was right in that, no one with at least a degree in Applied Mathematics was going to be residing nearby.

“Just please be careful about the information you include in this job posting, try to keep it minimal as possible. If they ask more questions about specifics you can let them know that I can explain in person.”

Stan looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows slightly downturned with a smirk rising on his face, “I didn’t realize you had hired me to be your assistant, you're going to have to cough up if you want me to do this for you”. Ford groaned in annoyance of his brother, “Stanley you know I don’t know how to use any of that”.

“Exactly why you're going to want to have me help you out with this”, Stanley moved his arm to drape across the back of the chair he was in, looking more directly at him. “That’ll be twenty dollars”, he held out his hand expectantly at his twin. A beat of silence passed between the two as they had a small staring contest, both men’s brows furrowed at the other.

Ford finally reached for his back pocket after he felt he had glared at his brother enough, he slipped a twenty dollar bill from the leather wallet and practically slammed it in his hand before walking in the opposite direction without a word. While Stan on the other hand, was more than beaming when he saw Ford’s hand fall to his back pocket, Stan half shouted as Ford strode out of the room.

“You’ll thank me later when I find the perfect candidate!” He laughed as he said it and returned to more clicking and typing around the website.

Ford returned to the lab to finish up some things before the kids were scheduled to get there later in the month. When they returned from the long months at the ocean, Ford wanted nothing more than to work on something in his lab again. He loved feeling the anticipation of a project becoming something, but of course he knew he could easily get carried away. After Dipper and Mabel left last summer, before Stanley and him were going to head out, he had made a major discovery while working in the lab. He had discovered an atom that was capable of recreating a direct clone of itself and in as many atoms he could count. He continued to work on the project until Stanley was practically dragging him from the house to leave to sail around the world.

While sailing towards one of their final destinations at the end of the trip, Ford finally opened up to Stanley about his worries of falling into the same pits as before. He was worried that he would become too involved, as he already felt himself doing as they were leaving for their trip. He also desperately needed some alone time from Stanley, but he didn’t mention that to him while they were on the boat.

“What if you hired someone to help you with the project?” Stan had offered a possible solution, while he had sat in the boat looking at Ford who was deep in thought over his dilemma. “I mean obviously the last time that happened, it wasn’t great either…” He trailed off after the look on Ford’s face became apparent, regretting the thought of his old college friend.

“I know the last time wasn’t great” Stanley pushed forward, “but maybe if you have someone hired to help with the smaller stuff. Things like using the calculator or something, whatever the small stuff even is to you” he said the last part under a fake cough which earned him a glare from his brother. However, the idea wasn't… terrible, Ford thought. He pondered over the possibilities of having someone helping him out, along with having the two kids upstairs to bother him. If he were to have someone who he didn't have to know that well take on most of the minor details, the equations and such, he would be able to prioritize the best parts of the project while also having time for his family. At least, that’s what he had hoped for when Stanley initially offered the idea.

“That could be a good idea…” Ford said after taking several moments to ponder the possibilities. “I would need someone who could do advanced mathematical equations, with room for equations that could possibly extend what they know…”. Stanley just looked at him deep in thought, wondering how there could be that many things to think about, the answer seemed clear to him.

Back in the lab, Ford could hear Stanley groaning loudly about some ‘unknown error message’. He continued to monitor and take note of the atoms under his advanced microscope for a while, waiting until Stanley had further news of any postings. He wondered what his new assistant would be like, if they could have the same passion for knowledge and understanding as he does.

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A few days had passed, Ford falling into old habits quickly, holing himself up in the lab for hours upon hours. The only time he was seen over the last 48 hours was to grab more coffee from the kitchen, he caught naps in between work, falling asleep over his piles of scrap paper filled with numbers and letters. Ford had not anticipated how much mathematical reasoning was going to follow the atom cloning discovery, he was falling behind on moving forward with more discoveries on the atoms, but over hundreds of miniscule details that needed solving kept him at the desk. Stan walked down on the 49th hour of Ford’s lock down in the basement, opening the door noisily and making as much noise as possible on the way down to let him know he was on the way. Ford was scribbling away on the nth page of scrap work, crossing out failed attempts of solving equations as Stan broached the lab floor.

Stan awkwardly cleared his throat at Ford when he didn’t turn around, even though Stanley was sure to have made enough noise on the way down. Ford turned his head over his shoulder, his body seeming to not want to move from the space it had cramped into. He raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner, as if asking ‘What? Im busy’. Stan gave a huff of annoyance before starting,

“I have about 3 applications that I thought were worth looking over, most of the idiots who applied didn’t even have math degrees. All they see in the listing is free housing and they flock like birds trying to claw their way in” he said with a slight chuckle. He strided over to Ford’s desk, as Ford leaned back finally interested in what Stan was saying. He took the papers from Stanley and began to look over them. He began thumbing through the few resumes, looking over each one carefully noting that all three people had at least some qualifications in mathematics. He looked up to Stan and gave him a tight smile.

“I appreciate you getting these for me, I’ll reach out to the ones I feel are qualified.” A beat passed between them, Ford paused for a second wondering if he should just return to work at this point or if Stanley had something else since he hasn't made any move to leave.

“I think the one on the bottom will be the best fit.” Stan said with a certain look in his face that Ford couldn’t place, as he turned to leave. Ford looked at him as he walked towards the stairs with a questioning look on his face, wondering what could have led his brother to place a preference on one of these resumes even though he didn't know what applied mathematics was. As Stan trudged up the stairs Ford called to his brother,

“I'll be sure to look at that one, thank you Stanley.” Which made Stanley pause and turn to look at Ford, a distant smile on his face as he nodded and continued up the stairs. Ford turned back to his desk and pulled the resume on the bottom up to the top, the header in nice bold letters a fine print used, he noted.

Y/N YL/N

He also took note that this was the only two-page resume offered to him, with the education list taking up most of the room. Several universities/schools were listed and his eyes read over the names and degrees that followed. He read all the way to the bottom where it listed your highschool with graduation dated in 1999. He noted this person was in their early 30’s with several bachelors degrees in several sciences, two master’s degrees in statistics and biology, and of course a Ph.D in applied mathematics. The latest graduation listed was University of Oregon masters program in statistics for April, which he noted it was now early May noting it would be fresh on the mind. He moved your resume to the back of the small stack, looking over the first two he skipped over, and honestly he wished he saved yours for last. The first two were jokes compared to the advanced knowledge you listed, he set the first aside after noting that the education list was no longer than a paragraph, and the second resume didn’t take long to set aside either as his eyes raked in the many spelling errors.

He read over your resume again looking for a way to contact you to set up the interview. He noted the phone number and email in the corner of the first page, and made to move upstairs to the kitchen phone. As he stood up however, his muscles almost molded into place from sitting at the desk, stopped him from moving further. He groaned as he began to stretch himself out, thinking about how he couldnt wait to stop looking at math problems for hours on end.

Heading back upstairs he reached the phone and quickly gazed at the microwave clock, 3:49 pm. He was glad it wasn’t later than five, as he picked up the corded receiver and began to punch in the numbers. The phone rang a few times before your voice fluttered over the phone, “Hello?”. Ford cleared his throat awkwardly, “Hello! Yes, is this Y/N YL/N? Oh it is, great, this is Stanford Pines calling about a job posting for the assistant position. I was hoping to set up an interview to discuss further details of the position.”

“I was just wondering if I would hear back from this offer,” the light voice on the other end laughed a pleasant laugh a little before continuing, “I’d love to join you for an interview regarding the position, I’m free anytime, anywhere this coming week and the next.”.

Ford offered a time for tomorrow at the local diner, which he provided the address to. The voice on the phone wished Ford a great rest of his night and that they would see him tomorrow. Ford wished them the normal pleasantries he hated to conduct while making mundane phone calls such as these. He was slightly relieved to find you weren’t completely strange, at least right off the bat. When he hung the phone back on the hanger, Stan suddenly spoke, causing Ford to jump from the lack of warning.

“So did you end up going with the one I said?” Stan looked smug as Ford met his gaze, knowing damn well he scared Ford on purpose. Ford rolled his eyes after he settled after the slight scare,

“Unsurprisingly, as you could probably assume. You shouldn’t have even bothered with the other two. One only had a few community college classes under their belt.” Ford turned to make more coffee, he figured he would stretch his legs now as he was planning on working on some more equations before the meeting tomorrow. Stan gave a hearty laugh, “She’s also quite the looker, surprised me when I was pulling resumes”. Ford gave his brother a look as he asked, “Can’t you make your picture anything you want online?”. He remembers when they got the computer last time the kids were here, Dipper had shown him how he had his profile for online DD&MD. He absolutely didn’t understand it, but Dipper assured him this summer he would teach him. Which would benefit him from not having to pay Stanley anytime he needed something done the modern way (this was not often).

“Yeah but this was on a college website, everyone has their picture I think. It looks all like student ID’s… Oh don’t look at me like that! I looked at all of their profile pictures. She just happened to have the best looking picture.” Stan finished with a shrug and a laugh. Ford had looked at him like he was crazy for looking through all the people who applied profile pictures before feeling the need to ask, “You did give me recommendations on experience, not looks correct?”.

Stan shook his head, “I know you would kill me if I passed on a math nerd over an actual good looking girl” he laughed, turning “I'm going to head out gotta meet some people, don’t wait up for me.” Stan said as he was walking out the door, grabbing the keys as he slammed the door. Ford shook his head and decided to take his brother's word for it, his mind replaying what his twin mentioned, “quite the looker” as if that could have any effect on anything. Ford thought he didn't care much at all for how a person appeared as long as they could solve these problems that's all that mattered, and maybe that they were decently pleasant to work with. He couldnt help but reflect back to the phone call, your light and airy voice filling his ear with pleasant sound, at least you didnt have a horrible voice and he could probably get used to hearing that voice more often, he thought. Ford filled his cup with coffee and headed back downstairs not giving the interview tomorrow much more thought than your voice on the phone.

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A/N: Yay I did it!!! yeah so what if its a nothing sandwich?? Didnt i literally say that before hand.. hope you enjoyed if ya read! <3