#it was almost impossible but we got there 🙈

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

fuck marry kill: regina mills, agatha harkness, billie dean howard

See, now this “fuck, marry, kill” is nearly impossible 😫🙈 WHY— *deep breath* okay, here we go:

Fuck Agatha, marry Regina, kill Billie Dean. NO I CANT— I can’t. PLEASE. Can I just kiss her instead. Or maybe just— oh god 🙈🙈

OH WAIT!!!

Okay. Okay. Hear me out: if I fucked Regina and married Billie and killed Agatha… could Billie then potentially summon/talk to ghost!agatha and we could have lots of sexy ghost sex?? Would that work?? Or would Billie actually slap me across the face for even suggesting it?? I don’t know, I feel like between Billie’s power and Regina’s magic AND Agatha’s magic, if I killed her, we might still have a solid chance of resurrecting her. Okay, yeah. That’s my answer 🙈

Fuck Regina, marry Billie, kill Agatha (and then bring her back)

[fandomfablesunleashed]

Flicker of hope

Law x reader

Summary: When you casually mention a future together, including a home and a cat, Law is caught off guard.

Words: 0.8k

Notes: Just something small and soft. I might have already started writing this exact prompt for Ace as well 🙈. I swear, those two really refuse to leave my mind lately (and not just lately...)

English is not my first language

Masterlist

Law sat on a secluded bench under the oak, his usual detached expression softening slightly as a small cat approached. It moved cautiously, weaving through fallen leaves and eventually halting in front of him. You, on the other hand, were practically beaming, your eyes wide with wonder and joy as you reached out to scratch the cat's chin. Law tried to look indifferent, forcing himself not to give in to the sweetness of the scene.

“Come on, Law, you’ve got to pet the cat too,” you urged, your smile wide as the cat jumped between you two.

With a sigh of reluctance, Law stretched a hand toward the little creature. The cat's fur was warm and soft against his fingers, its purrs thrumming gently under his touch, and before he knew it, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was a fleeting softness, quickly hidden, but you caught it anyway.

“See? I knew you’d like it,” you teased, nudging him with a knowing smile.

Law rolled his eyes but didn’t pull his hand away, instead scratching the cat gently behind its ear. He felt an unfamiliar warmth settle over him, a tiny, fragile joy that he rarely allowed himself to feel. Then you added, almost absent-mindedly, “You know if we ever get a chance to settle down, we’re definitely getting a cat. Just like this one.”

For a moment, Law froze, his hand stilling on the cat’s back. He hadn’t expected to be so casually written into someone’s future, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, half-expecting you to laugh and retract the statement, but you just continued to pet the cat, perfectly content and completely sincere.

“Once we somehow survive this… chaotic life,” he replied, his voice edged with dry humor, “then, maybe, you can worry about cats.”

He meant it as a half-joke, something to deflect the unspoken weight of your words, but as he glanced at you, he could see that you were still smiling, entirely undeterred by his reluctance. You met his gaze, your eyes warm with that same certainty that had somehow anchored him so many times already. A future together, an impossibly gentle thought, slipped into his mind before he could stop it. It was just a flicker—a home, quiet mornings, a small family made of two souls and a creature like this cat—but it was enough to make his heart ache with longing.

Law immediately attempted to push the thought away. They weren’t like other people, couldn’t have what others did. Domestic dreams didn’t mix well with the dangerous life they led, and he’d long since accepted that his life wouldn’t come with any promises of safety, let alone a warm home.

Yet as you laughed, brushing your fingers under the cat's chin to elicit another round of purrs, Law found himself imagining what it would be like to wake up to sounds of laughter like this every day. He imagined your shared smiles, simple, unguarded moments away from the dark shadows of your reality. He could see it so clearly—this kind of peaceful life he’d never dared to consider.

But he knew he couldn't fall into that trap. He’d made too many sacrifices to allow such vulnerabilities to linger. Even if your warmth made him want to have those dreams, he wouldn't let it fool him.

“That so adorable,” you called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “The cat likes you!”

The words hit him unexpectedly, and he felt the pang of something dangerously close to happiness. His heart skipped a beat. But he only gave a small nod and scratched the cat once more, allowing himself the tiniest indulgence before pulling his hand away.

Law took a deep breath and remembered that there were enemies waiting for you and many challenges you had to face. But no matter how many times he tried to suppress it, the image of a future with you, one where you had cats and peaceful mornings, kept surfacing.

For a brief moment, he let his guard down, and he whispered in a voice too quiet for you to hear, “Maybe… one day.”

Nevertheless, it was merely a glimmer of hope, as fragile as a dandelion caught in the wind, and before you could notice, he reverted to his usual cautious demeanor.

Yet as you continued to sit on the bench, basking in the presence of the small cat, Law continued to look at you, memorizing the joy in your eyes. At that moment, he held on to the tiny, forbidden hope that perhaps, one day, you could find a way to make that impossible dream come true.

[aneiria-writes]

Look ok I had no choice... this is the start of a college au liam x violet x xaden fic... Will it be completed? Only my muse and my chaotic brain know 🙈

“You’d really like Violet,” I say to Sloane, my little sister, that evening. We’re on a video call together as we eat pizza: our weekly tradition since I left Tyrrendor to come to Basgiath College. She’s only younger than me by a year, so although she’s my baby sister we’ve grown up almost closer than twins instead, especially after our mother died when we were young. She’s still at high school, but I have my fingers crossed she’ll pick Basgiath for college. “She’s really great,” I continue, telling Sloane all about Violet for a little longer. She lets me ramble, stuffing her face with slice after slice of pizza, until I trail to a stop and she licks a dollop of tomato sauce from her finger.

“So, big bro,” Sloane says, and I brace myself instantly at the familiar teasing tone of her voice. “Sounds like you’ve got it pretty bad for this Violet chick. You gonna ask her out or what?”

For a moment I’m speechless, staring at Sloane on the screen like she’s just turned into a dragon or something equally impossible. Then I shake my head, even though I can already feel the heat in my cheeks. “It’s not like that, Sloane,” I say, and she cocks a disbelieving eyebrow my direction. “I mean it! Violet’s great, but she’s…” I pause for a moment, looking away from her. “She’s Xaden’s girlfriend.”

“Oh.” I look up again at Sloane’s quiet response, and now she’s looking at me with something close to sympathy in her eyes. “Well, that must be pretty difficult too,” she says, gently, un-Sloane-like, “seeing as you’ve had a crush on Xaden since you were old enough to have crushes.”

I know my stupid cheeks are definitely red now, from how hot my face is. How does she know that? I’ve never told anyone, ever, about my eternal, unrequited feelings for Xaden Riorson.

“How do you know”— I start, but she interrupts me with a click of her tongue.

“You’re my brother, Liam,” she says. “You’ve done well to keep the truth from everyone else, but I know you.”

[chelseachilly]

THIS LOVE - chapter four | you can hear it in the silence

pairing: ben chilwell x reader

rating: T

word count: 2.2k

summary: you try to keep your distance from ben after italy, but after a terrible day, there's no one else you'd rather be with. i wonder why that is...

A/N: sorry it took longer than usual to update guys, it's been a very busy week for me! this one's a bit short as well but the next will be longer. i'm so happy the prem is back and we're getting so much good ben content though, the chelsea media team is keeping us well fed (and inspired one line of this chapter lol). title is from you are in love by taylor swift 🙈

previous chapter | view all chapters

Your plan when you got back to London seemed almost foolproof at the time.

You picked up a bunch of shifts at work, more than you would ever normally take on in one week. If you’re constantly working, then that gives you 1) an excuse not to attend any more events with Ben and 2) a good distraction from the developing feelings you’re experiencing for him.

The facts are simple.

He is your best friend in the world. He most certainly doesn’t return whatever weird feelings you’re having. Nothing is going to happen.

You’re sure it’s just a weird side-effect of this fake dating you’ve been doing, but that’s just playing pretend. 

Seeing him return to his usual ways - that perhaps he never left - of sleeping with beautiful models, firmly planted you back in the real world. 

And there’s nothing that can help you snap out of your fantasy life than a double shift in an East London emergency department. 

By the end of the week, you’re burnt out, exhausted, and you’re coming off what might be the worst shift you’ve ever had. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, and it takes all your energy just to make it home on the tube and get yourself up the stairs to your flat afterward.

You don’t know whether you want to cry, scream, sleep, eat, or something else entirely when you finally make it to your couch and collapse into it. 

Some time passes - you’re not sure if it’s minutes or hours - without you moving a muscle, your face buried in a pillow as you try to forget about your nightmare day. You’re snapped out of it when there’s a knock on your door. 

You’re not expecting anyone, but you reluctantly force yourself off the couch and trudge your way over to open it. 

And there stands Ben, who you haven’t seen or really spoken to except a few texts in a week and a half. Perfect.

“Ben, what are you doing here?” 

You’re aware it’s not the most polite greeting, but you don’t really have much more than that in you. 

“Are you alright?” Ben asks as soon as he has a moment to take you in, his eyes scanning your face. “You didn’t answer my call yesterday or my texts this morning, I was worried.”

Although you missed the texts because your phone was off at work and haven’t had the energy to check your messages since, you did dodge his call. 

“I’m fine, I just had a long day at work and I-“ You pause as it dawns on you what day it is, as well as the fact that Ben is dressed a bit more smartly than usual, in black trousers and a nice leather jacket. “Oh, shit. The Nike thing. I completely forgot.”

You had agreed weeks ago to attend a big flashy party for Nike as Ben’s date tonight, but as you focused all your energy on work this week it completely slipped your mind. 

“I’m sorry, just give me a few minutes to get changed and I’ll-“

“Hey, hey,” Ben says softly, stepping into your flat and closing the door behind him. “Forget about the party, is something wrong?”

You shake your head. “I just had a rough day at work.”

Ben nods, gesturing for you to go on, and something about the sincere worry in his eyes makes it impossible for you to remain closed off from him.

“We were really understaffed, and it was just one thing after another and then I lost a patient and I just-“ 

You cut yourself off as you feel that you’re about to cry, the sheer weight of your awful day and week catching up with you, but Ben can see it in the way your lip is trembling slightly and you’re avoiding eye contact with him.

“It’s alright, come here,” he says, stepping closer and pulling you into his arms before you can insist that you don’t need to be comforted. You definitely do, and there’s no better comfort on earth than Ben’s hugs. 

He holds you close against him, letting you hide your face in his chest, and you can’t resist letting out a few sobs now that he’s opened the emotional floodgates. 

“Shh, you’re okay,” Ben says so softly that it almost makes you cry harder. “I’ve got you.”

Slowly, and never breaking contact, Ben shuffles you both backward until the back of your legs hits the couch and eases you both into a seated position. He pulls you even closer so your legs are draped over his lap and your face rests in the crook of his neck, his hands slowly rubbing your back as your sobs taper off into quiet whimpers.

You can feel everything bad and stressful about today slowly leave your body with every soothing murmur and stroke of Ben’s warm hand against your back. 

He’s like an instant cure for everything wrong with the world, and it occurs to you that a big part of your terrible mood is probably the result of not seeing him for longer than usual. 

Now that you’re back in his presence, in the strong arms that have held you when you were eight and you scraped your knee falling off a bike and when you were sixteen and a boy broke your heart for the first time, you never want to leave. 

You’re no longer crying when you finally find the strength to pull away from him and look him in the eye. 

Ben releases you but keeps his hands firmly on your arms as he examines your face with worried eyes and a creased brow. 

“Are you alright?” he asks barely above a whisper. 

You nod, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Sorry, I guess this week was just a bit overwhelming.”

“You’ve been working a lot lately, yeah?”

“Yeah, well, have to pay the bills,” you shrug, as if that’s the only reason you’ve been drowning yourself in shifts on purpose. 

You do regret the comment slightly as Ben’s mouth opens and you know what he’s going to say before he even says it. 

“Y/N, if you ever need money, you know-“

“Ben,” you interrupt. “I don’t need money, I’m fine. It was just a stressful week, but I’ve got a few days off now.”

You’ve had this dispute before, with Ben freaking out whenever you seem overworked and insisting on covering some of your expenses. You never take him up on it, obviously. You do mostly love your job and helping people, and Ben knows that. He just worries about you. 

“Alright, fine,” Ben accepts. “Now why don’t we order some food and pick something to watch?”

You blink at him in confusion. “What? What about the Nike thing?”

Ben shrugs. “I’ll skip it. No big deal.”

“Ben-“

“Y/N, you had a shit day, you’re not going to some dumb party, and I’m not leaving you alone.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s his job to take care of you when you’re sad. Like he’s more than just your friend.

You can’t help but smile at his sincere expression, and how he’s gently rubbing your calf that’s still draped over his lap, as if you touch each other like this in private all the time. 

“I thought you said it would be a fun party?” you raise an eyebrow. “Or were you just trying to trick me into it?”

Ben laughs. “Well, it might be alright. A couple of the boys are gonna be there. But not as fun as watching a film with you.”

There it is again - that damn fluttering in your chest that is equal parts exciting and terrifying. 

Suddenly, doing anything with Ben sounds pretty good. Even a dumb party. 

“You know what, let’s go,” you say, wiping any remaining tears from your cheeks. “There’s no point in this whole fake dating thing if we don’t commit, right?”

“Are you sure?” Ben asks, frowning a bit. “We really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure. Let me go get changed.”

You get ready fairly quickly, putting on your go-to little black dress and comfiest heels, because you did just work a 12-hour day. You make your hair look presentable and apply a bit of makeup.

It’s nothing special, but the look on Ben’s face when you walk out of your bedroom says otherwise. 

The stress of your day continues to fade away to nothing as you and Ben make your way over to the party. Ben drives as they have a match Sunday so he won’t be drinking anything, and he loudly sings along to the Taylor Swift song on the radio in a clear attempt to cheer you up. It’s definitely working.

The party is a cool, lively affair at the Nike HQ. There are loads of athletes there, some that you recognize from television and some that you know through Ben. 

As you navigate the party, chatting with some Nike execs and some of Ben’s past and present teammates, Ben maintains some kind of physical touch with you. His fingers intertwined with yours as you walk in; his arm around your waist as you talk to his mates; his hand rubbing gentle circles on your lower back as you order a drink. 

You don’t know if it’s the fact that this is an event hosted by one of his biggest sponsors and he wants to play up the “man in love” thing or if he’s still trying to comfort you, but you can’t help hoping it’s the latter. 

After a while, Ben is approached by someone from Nike asking if he can do a short interview for social media. 

“Your girlfriend is welcome to join too,” the woman says nicely, flashing you a smile.

“You don’t have to,” Ben whispers in your ear, but you just shrug. 

Normally you would shy away from any press, but maybe a part of you doesn’t mind being called his girlfriend tonight.

“I’ll do it,” you say with a small smile at the interviewer. 

Ben keeps his arm protectively around your waist as the interview begins, glancing at you from time to time to make sure you’re alright.

They ask him a few questions about football before diving into the personal stuff, which you know is juicer for social media. 

“So, Ben, we see you’ve brought your lovely girlfriend Y/N here tonight,” the interviewer says. “How does she keep you grounded during the hectic football season?”

You tense a bit as you wonder what Ben is going to say, or if he’s going to be able to come up with anything on the spot, but he barely takes a second to respond.

“She’s such a calming presence in my life, really,” Ben says, squeezing your waist slightly. “She’s a nurse, so her job is infinitely harder than mine, and she still supports me emotionally whenever I hit a low point with my career. She’s…just the best person I know.”

Your heart is beating so wildly that you’re worried Ben is going to be able to tell, but you don’t have much time to stop being flustered before she’s directing a question at you.

“Y/N, I’ve heard that you two have known each other for quite some time before your relationship began,” she says. “What’s your favourite thing about Ben?”

There are a million things that come to mind right away, most of which feel too personal to share. 

You love how he takes care of the people in his life without expecting anything in return. You love how he cries every time you watch Marley and Me together, even though he’s seen it a thousand times.  You love close he is with his family and how he calls his mum every Sunday night just to chat. 

You love…

“I love how positive he is,” you say after a moment when you realize it’s taking you too long to answer. “He’s overcome a lot of adversity in his career, but he always has a smile on his face and makes everyone around him feel better by being in his presence.”

While you try to keep your answer somewhat football-related, since this is a work function, it’s also completely true.

And when Ben looks at you with that same bright smile, you think he knows that.

“Well, it seems love is in the air at Nike HQ tonight,” the interviewer swoons. “I hope you both have a nice evening, and we wish you all the best this season, Ben.”

As she leaves you standing there alone with Ben, trying to process the weight of your feelings, he turns to smile at you and tightens his grip on your waist.

When you meet his gaze and your stomach churns, you know two things for certain.

The first is that you’re in love with your best friend. It’s absolutely terrifying, due in part to the fact that you think you may have been in love with him without realizing it for a long time, but there’s no disputing it anymore.

The second is that you’re going to have to end this fake relationship before someone gets hurt. 

You just hope it’s not too late.

a/n: let me know what you thought, predictions, etc!! love chatting with all of you and your comments/asks make my day! <3 tag list: @lunamelona @kathb59 @captainwans​ @amandaaa1025 @bbygrlllllll @cinderellawithashoe​ @batmansb1tch​ @ncentic​ @myheartgoesvroom @chillymountsjess @babygirlbenji @delicateearthquakellama @joyfullyswimmingface @xxenia14 @chaotic-taco-collector-blog (let me know if you would like to be added or if i missed you!)

[finniestoncrane]

I'm so happy I found your blog! 🤗

I've had this fantasy in my mind since Ozzie's trailer. Could I get Farrell!Penguin fucking the reader and making them suck on his fingers? 🙈

Be Quiet, Sweetheart

Farrell!Penguin x GN!Reader, word count: 400 oof yeah this one spoke to me lmao i had to write it asap (also you are the cutest omg) 💜🐧 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: daddy!kink, praise!kink

Straddling his thick thighs, you rolled your hips slowly, gasping each time you felt Oswald’s cock twitch inside of you with the movements.

“F-fuck… Ozzie, this is… you’re so… Oh!”

You squealed as he thrust himself up, his bulge creating the sweet friction inside of you that you were desperate for more of.

“Oh my god, Ozzie, do that again! Harder, daddy!”

He felt so good, the way his chest hair felt against your palms as you steadied yourself on him, the smell of the liquor on his breath, his cologne on his neck as you pressed your face into it. It was impossible not to scream out for him, to beg him for more, pleading for him not to stop. But you hadn’t realised how loud you were until you felt your mouth being silenced, filled with his thick fingers.

“Mmm…”

You opened your lips a little, sucking at the digits and rolling your tongue over them. Oswald pushed down on your lower jaw, watching your mouth open wide as you sighed over him.

“You like that, baby?”

“Mhm…”

He chuckled, a lo and gravelly sound, before he shut your jaw with his thumb pressed on your chin, keeping his fingers in your mouth.

“Keep sucking, sweetheart. We gotta keep you quiet. Can’t have everybody hear us.”

Anyone who spent any time near Oswald’s office knew what you were doing though. They’d have to be stupid not to realise you came by every day to be fucked over his desk, or in his chair, or on his sofa, or on the floor even. But he liked to pretend, it made it more exciting if he could be caught with his cock inside of you.

“That’s it… good girl…”

He bucked his hips once more, and you gasped around his fingers, a muffled scream stuck in your throat. With a wide, almost cruel grin, Oswald pushed his fingers in further, and you gagged. The sound only spurred him on, as he used his free hand to hold your hip, keeping your body onto him to fill you as deep as he could with each thrust.

The closer he got to his own orgasm, the more ridiculous it seemed that he was still keeping you quiet with his fingers in your mouth. His own grunts and moans were far more telling than your sighs.

[daquila]

HI! so I read your fic “I’m not coming home” (beautiful btw) and i wanted to suggest an alternate ending you can write if you want?? 🙈

the last paragraph really got me thinking like mm… what if the reader didn’t die? and it was just a close call? but to gojo it was too close and he’s like scarred and turns into this toxic, manipulative, paranoid lover that tries to keep u safe to the point it’s too much and it drives reader away. what if gojo’s desperation to keep reader safe and close to him is exactly what makes him lose them? what if no matter what he does, the story always ends with him losing reader?

ANYWAY IT JUST SOUNDS FUN TO ME HAVE FUN 🤪

OF COURSE I WILL 🤓

You almost died; Satoru now uses this as an excuse to be even more selfish than before, resulting in an argument between the both of you.

(mentions of a divorce, toxic relationships, mentions of satoru projecting on reader, mentions of shoko being reader’s no.1 bff, mention of past satosugu or like gojo’s past)

hehehehe not proof read ! wrote it while eating 🫠

Original story here: I’m Not Coming Home !

Selfish Desires || Toxic! Gojo x Near Death/Injured! Reader

Twice in my life I was mistaken for someone else.

After Suguru’s incident, Satoru grew distant. There was a barrier that physically and emotionally kept people away. It was impossible to break through it; however, as time went by, he became vulnerable around me. Of course, I was happy— we even slowly became a couple. I just kept a blind eye whenever he’d be so controlling about my personal life: keeping the password to my accounts, asking for my whereabouts, and hiring people to keep an eye on me. Sure, I was grateful for the strongest sorcerer’s protection. It’s just that he went too far this time.

Satoru was terrified of losing the people close to him. He’d practically keep me on a leash, only releasing me when I begged him to. The first brightest red flag came to me in the form of an arcade date. It was something that me, Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru would do every weekend. We had fun— up until he “accidentally” called me Sugu. It was his special nickname to the dark haired boy, and it felt like a burning knife to my throat.

The second time, however, was more heartbreaking. It was evident that I was a scapegoat rather than lover for his fantasies. Suguru was an amazing friend. He was the embodiment of perfection, someone who I would never be. I was jealous of how much time he and Satoru spent together in highschool. He was the imposter that took my place, stole my life, and buried me underground. I, too, was selfish for Satoru’s attention.

I woke up to the sound of Shoko screaming to someone. My vision was blurry, my limbs were heavy, and I couldn’t feel my legs. That special-grade curse really kicked my ass! I turned my head to face the two figures to my right: one was Shoko, wearing a lab coat; the other was Satoru, clearly distraught with what he witnessed.

“ Don’t you fucking DARE point all of the blame on me, Shoko! If it weren’t for me, then she would’ve died! “

“ Isn’t it your job in the first place to rescue her? She’s your wife! You can’t even be the strongest if you can’t protect Y/N, “ the doctor spat. Shoko’s eyes were bloodshot, and her tears couldn’t stop spilling. Their argument burned for a few more minutes. I’ve never seen Shoko cry so much before. Last time she cried was when Suguru died in the arms of— oh.

My heart sank when I saw Satoru rush back to me, shaking me as if I were pepper.

“ Y/N��� you’re awake! Thank fucking god! I swore you could’ve died out there, “ the sorcerer pulled me in for a tight hug, peppering my face with wet kisses. He places an arm under my legs and shoulder, carrying me bridal-style.

Satoru blatantly ignored Shoko as he made his way out of the door. The walk down the corridor was silent, and the lights were awfully bright. He’s been muttering something for the past few minutes, but I couldn’t make out a single word.

The sound of the door creaking brought me back to life. He came in carrying extra pillows, bandages, and snacks. He sat on the bed, asked if I was alright, and gave me a quick peck on the lips.

“ Hey, I’m alright now— you don’t need to do this, “ his eyes quickly shot at me, eyebrows furrowing, he let out his anger.

“ You’re being so ungrateful, “ Satoru spat, grabbing my waist, and pressing down on my fresh wound. Despite my agony, he quickly shuts me down, stating that I’m being whiny. The sorcerer repeats a mantra about how he’d keep me safe, happy, and satisfied.

Shoko, of course, saw what Satoru was doing. She pushed the door away, dropped all of the extra bandages, and slapped the sorcerer. The fire reignites itself, but it ends soon as he slaps the doctor back. Shoko places a hand on her reddening cheek as the sorcerer opens his mouth.

“ I’m doing this for her— “

“ You’re doing this for yourself, Satoru, “ he stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. He thinks of Shoko as stupid, but he knows from the bottom of his heart that she wasn’t. She was right: he was selfish, and he’d never change. A bitter taste lingered in his throat as he stormed out of the room, leaving the two women behind. His heart tried protesting, suggesting that he should keep me in the palm of his hand— but it was all useless. He knew that nothing could fix his shattering marriage.

It would be better if he just left Y/N alone. Satoru knew that he was restraining her from happiness. Maybe in another life, where sorcery didn’t exist, he wouldn’t have been so stupid.

[oncominggstorm]

11, 21, 25, 28, 30, 31, 32, 43, 55, 60, 87, 97, 104 & 117 for the 123 questions ask game :D (I know that's a lot but there were so many interesting questions there lol!)

Wow curious much? 😝 Thanks I appreciate the attention 😂

Oops accidentally posted this waaaay too soon. Gonna edit it with my answers but it might take a while, hang on please 😂

11.) Hogwarts house

Hufflepuff 👍

21.) Last song you listened to?

Well I'm listening to music right now lol. So the last one that played was Breezeblocks by Alt-J, but I'm sure the answer will be different by the time I finish answering these lol 😜

25.) What was the last video game you played?

I haven't played an ACTUAL video game in a while. But we played jackbox games on christmas eve, which would definitely be the most recent for me. But ACTUAL video game? Probably either Genshin Impact or Mario Party but I'm genuinely not sure which 🤷‍♀️

28.) Do you like chewing gum?

Eh, sometimes. I'm not one of those people who always has gum every day. But I'll buy some every once in a while. I usually keep either mints or mint gum with me when I go out but I don't leave often so I don't use them often 😂 But every once in a while I'll buy a fruit flavor like grape or watermelon or something just for fun

30.) White, milk or dark chocolate?

Milk for sure. White chocolate's not terrible, especially when it's mixed with something else, but it's often too much for me after a bite or two. And dark chocolate is almost never my thing, too bitter for me lol

31.) Whats your favourite type of cake?

I am boring, so just like...birthday cake. Like vanilla with butter cream lol (I say that...while I currently have a half eaten piece of chocolate cake next to me 😂)

32.) Whats your 3rd favourite animal?

Oh man this is gonna be hard cuz that means I'm gonna have to actually rank all my favorite animals rather than just have a bunch of general favorites 🙈 Ok uhmmm I think I'm gonna say bison 🦬

43.) What do you think is your best talent?

Ok THIS one's actually the hardest one lol. I kept thinking of ones and then talking myself out of them. I guess I'll say attention to detail maybe but idk

55.) Are you scared of space?

Ehhhh yes and no? Like I love looking up at the night sky and thinking about space in like a philosophical sort of way if that makes sense lol. And I am interested in science stuff about space. But like, would I be scared to like, GO to space? Absolutely. I think it'd be cold and lonely and depressing and very scary lol. (Not for alien reasons, I think they either are not close enough to reach us, or else they are not hostile, otherwise we'd probably know by now. But just like, for "very easy to die cold and alone and very far from home" reasons lol)

60.) Is the ocean or space scarier?

Ooh that's also a tough one. I mean I guess not really actually, cuz I WILL go in the ocean, just like...close to shore lol. And actually enjoy that sometimes.. Whereas I wouldn't want to go in space even just into Earth's orbit lol. So maybe space. But still. Deep ocean is pretty scary too imo lol

87.) How many capital cities can you name?

Bit of a confession, I am buzzed rn, soooo probably not very many 😂 I'm gonna just cheat a little and look up a list of countries because I cannot handle having to think of countries AND cities lol. Ok so I got 25, but I missed some REALLY embarrassing ones 🙈

97.) What TV show would you recommend to everyone?

Ohh this is hard. Cuz there are lots of shows I love and would recommend to many people, but to EVERYONE...I think maybe I'd say Ted Lasso. I really think it'd be impossible for anyone not to like that show, it's so good. But god I just love tv I love so many different shows lol

104.) What's your opinion on fish

As a food? Noooo absolutely not. In the wild, near me? No thanks. At like, an aquarium? Sure they're cool to look at lol

117.) Do you have a favourite word?

Uhm no not really? I say awesome a lot so maybe it's that lol

Welp that ended up being REALLY long, but you know me so you must've know what you were getting yourself into 😝 Thanks Marce 😊

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

Amazing, incredible, fantastic, scrumdiddlyumptious!!!

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

We love a reader that can turn heads 😎😉

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

He deserved to get his nuts stomped on.

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

The way I screamed like a little girl!!!! God that scent sounds fucking amazing

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too.

Fuck me, I would not be able to be cool lmao I would melt if he looked at me 😩 navy you writing queen!!

“Beautiful,”

“It is,”

“I was talking about you.”

Need I say more?

But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

Again... I just love your writing so much 😩 because you can learn so much in the details. He is so beautiful I can't

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

NO IM NOT OK, the way I would've jumped him right then and there

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

He is so sweet for actually looking at her dress and even feel pride 😭

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋✨🥺

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul.

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

His response was chilling tbh, kinda made think some really feral thots 😂😬🙈🥵

I just love these subtle touches, they're so intimated and charged with tenderness and sexual tension 🙌🏼

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

Navy you're killing me

“You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

Sobbing. Into. My. Pillow.

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

My first thought was ooof first mistake buddy but then he made it better when he offered her a studio to create her dresses.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

I WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN STRONG ENOUGH TO STOP MYSELF FROM SAYING YES TO HIM RIGHT THEN AND THERE.

Like mark me up already 🫦

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

he's suave and strong and dominant send help

You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

I'm gonna need to take a few days to recover

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

Can't even express how much I love this part made me smile like an idiot, I want this old man to be happy and I want reader to be happy and I am so happy rn, I never knew you could get drunk on a fic🥴

Where Worlds Collide - Intro

Pairing: Silver Fox!Sugar Daddy!Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Female Reader

Summary: Your boss forces you to be eye candy for an alpha at a gala, but things take a turn for the better when you meet another alpha. Does it matter that you don't belong in his world?

Word Count: Over 9.2k

Warnings: Smut, v. fingering, possessive behavior, dirty talk, instant connection, A/B/O dynamics, talk of bonding, misogyny, unspecified age gap, insecurities, world building, choking (not our reader… yet), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: I'm pretty proud of the intro to this world, lovelies! @whisperlullaby, @targaryenvampireslayer, @tavners, here it is! Ant thanks to @queenoftheworldisdead as well. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411, but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Soft music drifted from the ballroom as you stepped into the lavish venue. You’d never been to a gala before. Your family wasn’t wealthy enough to receive an invitation, nor did your last name carry any influence. The only reason you were there tonight was because of the alpha on your arm, all thanks to your boss’s insistence that you accompany him.

It was an evening of style, grace, and luxury, and you didn’t belong.

You held your breath as you walked deeper into the ballroom, the glittering chandeliers casting a refined glow over everything. A mix of alphas, betas, and omegas socialized and gossiped, their glamorous evening wear glittering under the lights. You had designed a few of the dresses and suits, but none of the people wearing them would recognize you. The alpha you worked for always took the credit. Complaining about it wouldn’t help. After all, you’d only sound like an ungrateful omega and hundreds of other omegas would beg to take your place.

You couldn’t wait for the day you quit.

Chet’s grip on your arm brought you back to the present. “Keep quiet and smile,” he ordered, a haughty expression on his face as he led you through the place. You didn't want to judge all men named Chet, but you had pegged him as a douchebag the second he went in for his fitting and he was proving you right. You couldn't even enjoy that he was objectively handsome since his personality made him less attractive.

“I am smiling,” you said. Wrinkling your nose at the overwhelming mix of scents and expensive colognes and perfumes, you did your best to make your smile look natural. The servers looked like they were doing the same as they served everyone. It was strange how a room so enormous could make someone feel so small.

“Then keep smiling,” Chet ordered through his grin. “What you do or don’t do is a reflection of me.”

“I know,” you muttered. Because it was all about him and you were just his omega arm candy. You really should’ve demanded overtime pay from your boss, but that conversation wouldn’t have ended well.

“As it stands, perhaps I made the right choice by bringing you,” he said, nodding to a few older gentlemen. “I can smell their envy.”

You did notice a few more men looking your way. A few women as well, not hiding that they were whispering about you. Trying to hide your vulnerability, you held yourself the way you thought a goddess would. You also held yourself with pride since the dress you wore was your own design. A sleeveless black dress with a middle slit, it was bold and alluring. The glitter throughout the fabric made you shine like stars in the night sky. The finishing touch was the matching collar, a tasteful way to protect you from any alpha who even thought about marking you.

Reaching up instinctively to run a hand over your collar, you felt your heart ache. Your inner omega wanted a mark, but the thought of being tied to someone was somewhat terrifying. You respected omegas who wanted to go the traditional route by staying home and being submissive, but you didn’t want to be submissive outside of the bedroom. You wanted a partner who would view you as an equal.

Your false confidence didn’t last long when Chet’s grip on you tightened, your body immediately going stiff. You’d have to take a long shower and dry clean your dress just to get rid of his scent. “Loosen up,” he ordered.

“Maybe I’d loosen up if you weren’t digging your fingers in,” you whispered.

“You’re my date. It’s my right to touch you,” he sneered. He had no right. It didn't matter if he was an alpha and he was rich. The urge to slap him across his face was so strong your palm itched. “So, get the stick out of your ass.”

A shiver rolled down your spine when you heard a low growl come from another alpha. Glancing around, you didn’t see anyone looking directly at you. It probably had nothing to do with you because why would anyone care if an alpha was bossing you around?

Chet’s hold on you loosened nonetheless. “And just so we’re clear, you have no intention of sleeping with me?” he asked as an omega in a revealing dress sauntered by. Your date didn’t bother to hide how he was undressing her with his eyes.

“That’s right,” you said. You made it clear to your boss that sex wasn’t an option, and he was oddly on your side. Maybe he thought Chet could sway you if he tried hard enough. If he even thought of using some sort of alpha command on you, nothing would stop you from lashing out and making him sorry.

“Then you’ll have no problem finding your own ride home should I choose to leave with someone else,” he said.

“So, I can’t make you look bad, but you can leave with another omega?” you asked.

“You got it. You’re smarter than you look.” He tapped your nose with a condescending grin. “And here I thought you were just a pretty face.”

The prick was pushing his luck. “Listen you-”

“Chet, my boy! Good to see you!” A man interrupted, uncaring that you were speaking.

“Shane,” Chet smiled. “Always a pleasure.”

The bulky alpha shamelessly looked you over, his scent almost making you choke on your next breath. “And who might this be?”

“Pretty, isn't she?” Chet cut in before you could answer, puffing his chest out. “Doesn't say much, but I’m not exactly interested in her conversational skills, am I?”

You bit your tongue when they chuckled. Be seen and not heard. It was insulting.

“Come join me, but leave the omega,” Shane said unapologetically, taking another look at your chest. What would happen if you threw a drink in his face? “As entertaining as she would be, we have business to discuss, and we don’t need the distraction.”

“Of course,” Chet smiled, turning you toward the bar as Shane walked away. “Since he doesn't want you around, why don't you take advantage of the free drinks until I get back?”

“I’m not-”

“And not that you’d have any extra cash to tip, but it’s taken care of,” he continues, your face hot at the assumption that you couldn't afford to tip the staff. “Just behave and try not to make a fool out of either of us, you got it? Wouldn’t want your boss to hear about it if you do.”

Biting back a retort, you freed yourself from his grip. There wasn’t enough liquor at this party to get you through the rest of this evening. “Don’t worry about me, alpha. Go have fun,” you said, your eyes burning as he walked away. A few heads turned your way when your scent soured. It wasn’t enough that you had to attend an event where you didn’t belong, but your date just had to rub salt in the open wound by reminding you of such. “Fucking asshole,” you muttered, making your way over to the bar to order a drink.

Plastering a smile back on your face when you got the bartender’s attention, you ordered a whiskey on the rocks. You wanted something that would go down smooth but leave a little burn. You also preferred opting to watch the bartender make a drink in front of you instead of grabbing a glass of already poured champagne. The drinks were likely fine, but better safe than sorry. And like hell would you accept a drink from your sorry excuse for a “date” if he offered you one. He was lucky you-

An intoxicating scent hit you out of nowhere, making you grip the bar as you inhaled. Plums, whiskey, sandalwood. The blended aromas had your mouth watering, and a whimper threatened to slip out. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Desire burned in your stomach. As quickly as the scent excited you, it seemed to wrap itself around you in a soothing embrace. How could a smell leave you hot and bothered and also feel like a hug?

No… It couldn’t be your mate.

You caught a small movement out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped breathing when you found a pair of blue eyes fixed on you that belonged to a devilishly handsome man. He leaned against the wall, his wool-blend black suit fitting his thick body like second skin. Streaks of gray lined his luscious brown hair and peppered his beard, too. He looked like the kind of alpha who would have omegas kneeling at his feet, and it frightened you how badly you wanted to get on your hands and knees and crawl toward him.

His. Mine.

Lifting his tumbler to his lips, he kept his eyes on you as he sipped the expensive liquor. You wanted to look away but couldn't as the air crackled between you. He had you under some sort of trance you couldn't snap yourself out of. As frightening as it was to have a scent hit you so strongly, a feeling like this hit you square in the chest, the thought of him staring at another omega that way nearly made you hiss because you didn't want anyone else on the receiving end of those blue eyes.

He smirked like he read your mind and pushed himself off the wall. You did whimper out loud when you realized just how large he was. Dominant, assertive, yet there was something almost playful in his smirk when he finally broke his gaze. You greedily inhaled with the hope of catching more of his scent when he strode toward the nearby balcony, smooth and fluid as a server quickly took the empty tumbler from his hand. The men at the gala were all posturing, but no one could match the confidence of that alpha.

So how were people not surrounding him, begging for a scrap of attention? Was he untouchable among those who deemed themselves untouchable? He certainly didn’t look like the kind of man who chased after anyone. No, people went to him.

He wanted you to follow him, right?

Downing your drink in one gulp, your feet moved before you could stop yourself. “I don’t need this alpha,” you whispered, the words bitter in your mouth as you followed his path. If you were smart, you’d walk the other way and not look back. Yet the thought of never seeing him again made your heart ache in a way you didn’t want to examine.

Does he know?

Studies over the years showed that not every bound pair was the same. Some couples felt the bond instantaneously like a firework exploding. Others felt it like a small burn that slowly consumed them over time. For a few, the spark took a long time to ignite. You couldn't ignore this burn if you tried.

You welcomed the slight chill in the air as you stepped onto the large balcony. It was lit up with sparkling lights, yet it didn’t take away from the stars that shone in the sky above. The alpha who caught your eye stood by the railing, alone, like he was looking over a kingdom. You felt foolish for going out there to bother him.

Steeling yourself with false confidence again, you walked over to stand beside him. You weren’t close enough to touch him, wanting to leave him a respectable amount of space. You could always use the excuse that you just needed some fresh air if he asked what you were doing.

Stealing a glance at him, you didn’t want to believe that you had a true connection with this man, that he could be your mate. No way would an omega like you be his match. Would he even want an omega like you? One with dreams to do more, be more?

“Beautiful,” he said, his voice thick like honey and the whiskey you drank. Of course, his voice would be a powerful weapon. But he wasn’t scenting you, or trying to tear your collar off, or doing anything to indicate that he felt the sort of spark you had. Maybe that was for the best.

“It is,” you sighed, looking out at the view. You couldn’t deny the beauty and how much easier it was to breathe since you weren’t surrounded by the suffocating bodies and scents. “It really is something.”

“I was talking about you.”

You whipped your head toward him so quickly you nearly hurt your neck. The flare of heat in his eyes hypnotized you again, but this time you didn’t want him to draw you in. A man of his stature, his power, he could chew you up, spit you out, and leave you a shell of yourself. But seeing him up close, his laugh lines, and the touch of softness in his gaze, you wanted to know all about him and the life he lived.

You were in so much trouble.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“I don't think I’ve seen you at a gala before. I would've remembered you,” he stated. You weren't sure what to say to that. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky if you’d like.”

You blinked a few times. “You’re James Barnes,” you whispered, not having to belong in the inner circle to know who he was.

James Buchanan Barnes. One of the wealthiest alphas in the city, his family came from money and it was no secret that Bucky, as he liked to go by, wasn’t bound to anyone. People assumed that he didn't want to share his wealth with anyone beyond his charitable donations, or that he was either extremely picky in choosing a mate. And here he was talking to you. This was the man you thought could be your mate.

You were in way over your head.

“I am,” he said, looking at you expectantly.

It took a moment, but your name tumbled from your lips as you shifted toward him. He inhaled when a breeze rolled in and you hoped your scent got to him the way his scent got to you. The way his eyes darkened, it had. Your inner omega wanted to purr with delight.

Time stood still when he took your hand and brought it to his lips. “It’s a pleasure,” he whispered, his lips brushing your knuckles. “I hope you don’t mind me being forward, but…”

“But what?”

You held your breath when he turned your hand and ran his nose along your wrist with a small growl. It was bold, intimate, possessive, and you got impossibly wet from the action. Had Chet or another alpha done that, it would've been a different story. “You smell divine,” he whispered against your skin.

You whined before your inner hackles went up, making him pull his mouth away immediately. He at least had some level of respect and sensed the shift in your stance. “How many omegas have you said that and done that to?” you asked when you had no right to feel jealous.

He didn’t look put off by your question, and he didn’t let go of your hand either. “I’ve come across a few delectable scents before, but I don’t think I’ve ever described anyone as divine,” he answered, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. An intense longing behind his eyes had your knees weak. “I haven’t smelled anyone like you.”

This alpha was telling the truth, but he wasn't a boy scout either. He knew how to fuck, you could tell, and he likely broke hearts without intending to. You didn’t want to be the next victim if a quick fuck was all he was looking for.

“I haven’t smelled anyone like you either,” you admitted, grudgingly pulling away. His heady scent made it hard to concentrate. And standing close to a man who wore a suit that cost more than half a year’s rent was another reminder that you were a girl playing dress up, nothing more. “I should go. I shouldn’t be here.”

Bucky stopped you from turning away, his grip on your arms tender so you wouldn’t feel threatened. “And why is that?”

“Because I don’t belong here, and I don’t expect you to understand that,” you replied.

It was bad enough to let your guard down by following him out there, and you couldn’t let him seduce you more than he already had. You were lucky the very presence of him didn't trigger your heat. And how would your story end? He was a rich alpha, and you were a struggling omega. Was happiness really in the cards?

Your eyes widened when you heard the rumble in his chest, his scent producing a soothing aura that wrapped around you. Your lip trembled slightly as the rumble faded. Bucky could’ve let you walk away, yet he was comforting you. It made you want to cry.

“I may understand better than you think,” he whispered. Did he? Did he feel alone in that crowd of people there? “But help me understand why you feel that way.”

You rapidly blinked to keep the tears at bay. What was there for him to understand? “Okay,” you whispered back. The fact that he wanted you to talk to him meant something. “For starters, that crowd is kind of… well, awful from the short time I observed and interacted with them. They think they’re better than everyone else because they have so much, but they have no right to look down on others.”

The people in the gala simply flaunted what they had without a second thought. Being there made you appreciate your friends and their genuine interactions more. They worked hard for everything they had. They wouldn’t have anything against people born with a silver spoon in their mouths if they showed a little humility.

Bucky's chuckle surprised you. “Money doesn’t equal class, and believe me when I say they aren’t worth taking up any space in your beautiful mind,” he said, giving you a small smile. “To be honest, I came out here to get away from them because, save a select few, they're fucking assholes.”

You found yourself smiling, too. No wonder he has been standing by himself. “Is that the only reason?” you asked curiously, reaching up to touch his perfect hair simply because you could.

He looked at you, a mixture of lust and something soft. Standing like this you felt like a couple. “I may have wanted you to follow me, and I’m glad you did,” he said, his tone calm and casual as butterflies filled your stomach. “You’re the first person I’ve considered approaching in a long time, but you looked a bit upset when you went to the bar. I didn’t think bothering you would win me any favors.”

You exhaled. Was he the alpha who growled when Chet gripped you too tightly? “I…” you shivered when another breeze rolled in.

He shrugged his jacket the moment he spotted you shivered. “May I?” he offered.

You hesitated. Bucky had a powerful scent, and how would it look to Chet if you wore another alpha’s jacket? Chet wasn’t your alpha, but he could run his mouth and get you in trouble with your boss. It didn’t matter that you wanted to quit one day. Today wasn’t that day because you financially weren’t ready. That was the excuse you made up in your head.

But your inner omega wanted Bucky’s scent to surround you and you replied in a small voice, “Yes, please.”

Bucky carefully placed the warm jacket around your shoulders. “I know the crowd bothered you for good reason, but who specifically upset you and how can I fix it?”

“My date,” you answered. You didn't have it in you to lie to him. It also wasn't up to him to fix it.

Bucky hummed, running his hands up and down your arms. It helped warm and relax you. “What’s his name?” he asked, his eyes landing on the collar around your neck. You wondered what he would do if your mating gland was exposed, and you had to push that thought away.

“His name is Chet and he’s discussing business with some alpha.” The change in his scent was subtle. He seemed too confident to be jealous, but he didn’t seem pleased either at the thought of you being with someone else. “They were extremely condescending, and I couldn’t exactly throw a drink in their faces or put them in their place since I’m just an omega.”

Bucky snarled quietly, his eyes blazing. “You’re not just an omega,” he said. He was upset on your behalf. Was he not like other older alphas who wanted omegas to be subservient? “Maybe I should have a chat with them.”

You purred before you could stop yourself. Bucky offering to stand up for you felt better than you wanted to admit. “You don't have to do that,” you said, running your fingers through his hair again. You wanted to soothe him the way he soothed you. “Besides, I’m not really on a date with Chet. He just wanted me to be eye candy for the night.”

Bucky almost snarled again, but raised an eyebrow instead. “And you agreed to that? I have the feeling you aren’t the arm candy type.”

You giggled. He was right about that. “Didn’t really have a choice thanks to my boss,” you told him.

“Your boss? What exactly do you do for work?” he asked carefully.

He asked a lot of questions, but you didn't mind since he seemed genuinely interested. Maybe he assumed you were an escort. “I'm a designer,” you answered, smiling to yourself. “At least, I want to be. I’m just an assistant at the moment.”

“Let me guess. Your boss is an alpha, makes you do the grunt work, and takes the credit?” he mused, humming when you solemnly nodded. “And he convinced you to come here tonight because Chet is a client?”

“Something like that. It was either that or I get fired,” you laughed bitterly. “And if he fired me I’d get blacklisted, then I’d have no job, no money at all, and I’d lose my tiny apartment and…”

His nose wrinkled when you trailed off. You were so embarrassed, and you couldn’t stop your scent from souring. Talking to one of the richest alphas ever about your problems wasn’t something you thought you’d experience tonight, but that soothing rumble and smell came out again to help you breathe easier.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” he said with a touch of firmness so you knew he didn’t pity you. You could take a lot of things, but not pity.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” you said, smoothing out some of the fabric on your dress and not wanting to dwell on the topic. “I actually made this,” you told him. It was silly, but you specifically wanted to hear something nice from Bucky to make you feel better, which was bad. You shouldn’t want compliments from him or want him period.

He parted his jacket so he could look you over. Unlike Shane leering at you earlier, Bucky seemed to take in the details of your design with a careful eye. “You made this? It’s stunning,” he said with pride that rivaled yours. You lost your breath when he ran the back of his finger along your torso, heat spreading through your body like a wildfire. “Like you.”

Your mind raced, the heavy weight of his gaze pinning you in place. The longer you stood there, the more you wanted him. You had to snap out of it. “You’re dangerous,” you whispered, shaking your head as his hand fell away. “I should go inside.”

He stepped back, his eyes searching yours. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you replied honestly. Some of his actions were forward, but he wasn’t pushy. He was the sort of predator who probably gently played with his food before he sank his teeth in, yet you weren’t completely afraid of the bite. “Though I’m wondering why you don’t have a date tonight. Keeping your options open?”

Maybe he really did want to live the bachelor life.

The corner of his lip tugged when you narrowed your eyes. “I come to these things to make a short appearance. That’s all,” he explained. Even the wealthy had obligations. “Unlike some alphas my age, I’m not interested in having a date for the sole purpose of eye candy. And because most of the people here are fucking assholes, I don’t usually find anyone to take home.”

“So, you aren’t interested in taking me home?” you tried to tease. If he said no, you could lick your wounds later since you’d likely never see him again. If he said yes, you… Well, you didn’t know what you’d do.

He reached out and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you close enough that you felt just how big he was. A shudder wracked your body, wanting nothing more than to have him inside you. “I’m very interested in taking you home,” he breathed.

You lifted your eyes to him, his desire matching yours. “I-”

A young giggling couple stumbled out to the balcony reeking of booze. They took a few steps forward and Bucky moved you out of the way before they could crash into you. The ferocious growl he let out made the laughter cease, but it had you purring like a bitch in heat. “Leave,” he ordered, keeping his arms tight around you. The underlying threat in that single word had the couple rushing back inside, but they had effectively ruined the moment.

“I think that alpha almost pissed his pants,” you teased to cut through the tension.

“He’s lucky he didn’t tumble over the railing,” he said, loosening his hold on you and taking in your expression. You felt naked under his stare. “You aren’t ready to leave with me just yet.”

“I’m still here with a ‘date’,” you reminded him to cover up any feelings or doubts in your mind.

Other than Bucky being wealthy, powerful, and smelling like a sinful kind of heaven, you didn’t fully know him. Something within you felt like you did, but going home with him for the night… What if you disappointed him? What if he decided he didn't want you?

He gave nothing away as he stared at you while you felt like your eyes told him everything. It wasn’t fair how in control he looked when you were close to spiraling. “Let’s go sit inside,” he suggested, finally cracking a smile when your face scrunched up. “No one will bother us, and I’d like to keep talking to you even if you don’t decide to leave with me.”

“I guess it wouldn't hurt to sit with you for a few minutes,” you said, especially if he would keep others away from you.

His hand on your hip felt like it belonged there as he guided you back inside. The scents and mindless chatter didn’t bother you as much now, likely because all you could really smell and concentrate on was Bucky. Did his kisses taste like plums or whiskey? Both?

He brought to a corner near the bar, far enough away from the mingling crowd that you still felt a bit of privacy. You kept his jacket around you though the room was considerably warmer than it was outside, not quite ready to give it back to him. “Drink?” he asked, angling his chair so that his knees were touching yours. There was no table in front of you. Anyone looking would see how close you were.

“No, thanks,” you said. You already downed a glass of whiskey and your head was spinning thanks to him.

You felt his gaze on you for a full minute before he spoke again. “Your ‘date’ isn’t the reason you’re hesitating to leave,” he said, scratching along his beard. You bet it would feel wonderful between your thighs. “Is it me? Am I too old for you?”

You had to laugh. “You’re a gorgeous silver fox, so that isn’t the problem,” you said. Beneath the suit you knew he was in great shape, too.

He smiled a gorgeous smile, appreciating the compliment. “So it isn't my age. Do you think I won’t treat you well?”

“I know you’ll treat me well,” you answered, avoiding his gaze. You knew that in your core. “But I’m afraid of what happens in the morning.”

He forced your gaze back to him with a large hand. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his thumb brushing your cheek.

Everything.

“I’m afraid if I get a taste of you it won’t be enough for one night,” you said, your heart pounding as he stared into your eyes. Like he was staring deep into your soul. “And it isn’t fair that you have that kind of power over me.”

He looked almost impressed with your answer. “I appreciate your honesty,” he praised, his thumb sweeping over your lips this time. “And it won't be enough. Once I get a taste of you, I won’t let you go.”

It wasn’t a matter of if with him, but when. “You couldn't possibly want me for more than one night,” you said. He knew you were just a struggling designer’s assistant and didn’t run with this crowd. You lived in different worlds.

“I’m going to want you every night.” He tilted his head when you shifted in your seat. “You feel it, don't you?”

You feigned innocence when he held your gaze, your heart racing. God, he had felt it. Was it an explosion, a slow burn, or something else? “Feel what?”

Bucky smirked, not at all fooled. “That you’re my-”

“Don’t say it,” you begged. Speaking the word would make it real and it wasn't something he could take back. “Because if you don’t want that or me, we can just go our separate ways and ignore it.”

He hadn’t marked you, and you hadn’t claimed him either. You didn’t know what it would feel like to have his knot, so you couldn’t possibly miss it. And neither of you would have to depend on the other. You could walk away with as minimal damage as possible, and you’d find a way to remain whole. So would he.

The low growl Bucky emitted made the nearby guests move away, but you weren’t afraid. “Ignore it? I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else. I would've fucked you right out there on the balcony if that couple hadn't interrupted us,” he said, your body hot and needy at the thought of him fucking you while you looked out at the view. “I’m lucky finally finding you didn’t send me into a rut.”

You thought the same about your heat. “Bucky-”

“Our scents call to each other. We call to each other,” he said, placing his hand on your chest. How did your heart feel fuller from his touch? “Tell me you didn't feel a connection when you caught my scent and looked at me.”

“I felt something,” you admitted.

“And it compelled you enough to follow me outside, to open up to me,” he said. You couldn't deny that. “You may say you don’t belong here, but something inside you says you belong with me.”

“And that doesn’t bother you? Scare you?” you asked. Having mates could be wonderful, but what if he wanted that pull with someone who wasn’t you?

“No, it doesn’t,” he said. There wasn't even a whiff of fear, likely because he had nothing to lose. “In fact, I think you should quit your job and move in with me.

You looked at him like he suddenly grew another head. “Quit my job and move in with you?”

“Yes. Your boss doesn't deserve to have you as an assistant, and you wouldn't have to pay rent if you stayed at my place.”

You didn’t attempt to laugh off his request since he was completely serious. “You realize that sounds insane, right?” you added. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary though. Some couples who took their time building their bond still moved in right away.

“Insane would’ve been marking you the moment I saw you and dragging you home the way some alphas do,” he said.

You bristled. “It’s too soon for you to mark me,” you said, even as your mating bond throbbed.

“Don’t worry. I won't mark you tonight,” he assured you. Hurt crept up for a split second before he ran a finger along your collar. You visibly trembled and realized that he did want to mark you. He just wasn’t doing so tonight out of respect for you. “But you can still be mine in every other way until that day comes.”

You opened your mouth to argue. He hadn’t marked you, but you still felt owned. “You really think people want you with an omega outside of your tax bracket?”

“You think I give a fuck what they think?” His handsome face twisted in a scowl as he looked around. “And if they even think about insulting you, I’ll ruin them. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t that simple,” you said.

“Why not? I know you're meant to be mine and you know it, too.” He touched your collar again, your mating bond throbbing almost to the point of pain. “You won’t need to worry about money or a roof over your head because I’ll give it to you. And a space to design your own clothes and make your dream come true.”

It sounded too good to be true, and nothing in this world was free. “I have my rent. If I break my lease-”

“I’ll pay what you owe.”

Your rent was probably pocket change to him. At least you didn’t have a roommate you’d have to worry about. It was always too risky to rely on someone else to help with bills and utilities. “And all that in exchange for what? Being your whore?”

He snarled, and you were delighted to hear that sound. “Trust me, doll, you may want me to fuck you like a whore, but I’ll treat you like a goddess. Like my equal,” he replied, his promise touching something deep inside you and drowning out most of your fear.

You just wished the remaining would fade away.

“I want us to be equals, but do you realize that you’d have all the power until I get my designs off the ground, right? I’d have to rely on your money, your roof over my head,” you said, swallowing the small lump in your throat. Did he realize what he was asking of you? To push aside the small amount of pride and independence you had? “I’ve done fine on my own and to have to depend on you is something else altogether.”

You hoped he at the very least realized how vulnerable you were right now by opening up more.

He looked vulnerable, too, as he moved closer. “I know it’s a lot to have to depend on me, but with me you wouldn't have to do this on your own. My finances don’t mean I have power. You’d have power, too,” he said. You wanted to believe you would. “In fact, I think you’re the only person in this entire city who could bring me to my knees. That’s power.”

You smiled a little. Could you really bring him to his knees? “As flattered as I am that you want to take care of me, do I have to decide tonight?” you asked. He was saying all the right things, and it was tempting, but there was so much to figure out beyond the living arrangements.

“We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’d like,” he said, looking around as you let out a breath. He had no doubt in his mind that you would spend the night. “Have you seen your date?”

You looked around, too, not at all worried when you spotted him. A complete contrast to how you felt at the beginning of the evening. “He’s…” You gestured to the bar where Chet was flirting with the loosely dressed omega from earlier and staring right down the front of her dress.

Bucky growled and swept his eyes over you, no doubt catching how you pressed your thighs together from the sound. A growl really shouldn't be that sexy. “Not a very faithful alpha, is he?”

“Well, he isn't my alpha, remember?” you pointed out. Someone like Chet would never be. “My boss only ‘suggested’ that I go with him tonight, and I made it clear I wasn't going to sleep with him.”

There was another hint of a growl before he smiled. “Wait right here. I’m just going to tell the young pup that you’re going home with me.”

You gripped his arm as he tried to stand. “Easy, old man. I didn't say I was going home with you,” you teased, knowing full well you were in fact leaving with him.

“Old man?” he smiled.

You shrugged. “You called me ‘doll’, which sounds like something an old man would say.”

“I think an old man is exactly what you need.” His eyes flashed with a deliciously dark promise that he was right and you’d enjoy every single inch of what he’d give you. “And you didn’t explicitly say you'd go with me, but we both know I’ve swayed you to go to my place.”

“You alphas are so cocky.” You refrained from rolling your eyes since he was right in this instance. “But maybe I should just stay here a bit longer and make you work for it since you want me so badly.”

He chuckled. “You’d rather stay here? Fine by me,” he said, leaning in close. “I’ll just slide my hand up your dress here and now and feel just how wet you are for me. I doubt anyone would notice if I made you come on my fingers. They’re too caught up in themselves.”

Your eyes closed when he touched your thigh. “You think I'm wet for you?”

“I know you are. I can smell it. Can practically taste it. You’ll let me taste you, won't you?” he purred, and you could only tremble as his hand moved higher, your legs parting to give him more access. “In fact, why don't I drag your ‘date’ over and let him watch while I lay you out and feast on your cunt? Show him what you'll never give him a taste of?”

You weren't sure if the pool of arousal was from the thought of Bucky eating you like a starved man, making that sad excuse for an alpha watch while he got you off, or both. You wondered what it would be like to taste yourself on his lips. “And why would you let him see what I look like when I come?”

He seemed to consider your question. “That’s a good point. He shouldn't see how you look when you come.” Bringing his hand to your face, your breath hitched when he caressed your cheek with such care. “But you’ll never have to hide that beautiful expression from me.”

“Hey!”

You pulled away from Bucky in time to see Chet storm over. “Shit,” you whispered when he furiously looked between you and Bucky. You were shocked smoke didn't come out of his ears.

“What the hell are you doing? I said enjoy the free booze, and do not embarrass me. You can't even follow a simple instruction,” he snapped. You refused to bare your neck when he showed his teeth. He wasn’t going to embarrass you either. “The only reason you can even step foot in this place is because of me. You fucking sl-”

Bucky was out of his seat before you could blink, his hand wrapped tight around Chet’s throat and cutting off the remainder of his insult. A few patrons gasped and stopped to watch as Chet clawed at Bucky's hand, but no one stepped in to help. The anger that poured off your alpha was enough to deter anyone from getting involved. And you were loving every second of it.

“She’s my mate,” Bucky said through his teeth, making Chet’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Biology may say you’re an alpha, but you’re nothing. And I’m tempted to crush your windpipe for insulting her.” He squeezed harder and smirked when Chet wheezed. “When her boss asks how the gala went, you’re going to sing her praises. If you don't, I’ll hunt you down and make sure you can never knot anyone ever again. And that’s just the start of what I'll do to you.”

It was almost humiliating how turned on you were by Bucky's dominant display. You thought you’d be an omega who wouldn’t want an alpha acting like, well, an alpha, yet his defense of you meant a lot. “Bucky.” You stood up and smiled when he looked at you, his anger shifting to something softer. “You can let him go.”

Chet fell to the ground and coughed once Bucky released him. Your alpha bared his teeth with a snarl and Chet showed his throat like an obedient dog. It was clear who the top alpha was.

“Apologize,” Bucky commanded. Not only did Chet cough out an apology while avoiding your gaze, a few others said “sorry” as well. That was how powerful this man was. And you wanted him more than anything.

“Thanks for the free booze, Chet. And don't worry about me getting a ride home. I think you should worry if that omega still wants you after your… performance,” you smiled, linking your arm with Bucky’s. “Have a great night.”

There was no need to fake your confidence as you and Bucky walked out together. It didn't matter at the moment what they thought of you. All you could think about was how Bucky defended you, and how he called you his mate. It was out in the open. He…

Oh, God.

“Thank you for defending me, but you do realize you just told everyone that I’m your mate, right?” you whispered. That gossip would spread before the night was over.

“Is that what I did?” he asked, smirking when you hissed and glared. “And you don’t need to thank me. He had it coming.”

The smirk was still on his handsome face as the valet brought his car around. What the hell were people going to say? He didn’t care what they thought and neither should you.

“Listen, Bucky, just because you…”

Bucky held your face in his hands, leaning in so close you felt his breath against your lips. His mouth barely grazed yours, carefully teasing you with the promise of what was to come. “Just because I what?” he rasped, and you swear you felt more slick stain your already ruined panties.

“You better get me off before we get to your place,” you said instead of finishing your original statement because you truthfully forgot all about it when his lips touched yours.

Your insides tinged with more heat and desire when he nipped your bottom lip. “You better say my name when I get you off.”

“Should I say Bucky or James?” you smirked.

“Bucky. Reserve the name James for when you’re upset or extremely serious,” he winked, thanking the valet before helping you into his vehicle. You had never been in a car this nice.

“And you won’t mark me tonight?” you asked once he got up, touching the back of your collar to make sure it was still secure.

“We still have a lot to figure out before I mark you,” he said, leaning over as you sighed in relief. “But before we go…”

His mouth landed on yours, both strong and soft as he took possession of yours. The entire gala could've gone up in flames and you wouldn't have noticed since all you felt was him. You tasted his hunger when his tongue plunged inside, and there was a hint of desperation, too. He was starving for you and you moaned, deepening the kiss to show that you were just as eager.

You panted when he broke the kiss. “Don’t make me regret trusting you,” you breathed, your eyes once again giving everything away.

His nose bumped yours affectionately as he dragged his lips to your forehead. You didn't expect such a fond gesture from him, and you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't blurt out how nice a kiss to the forehead felt. “You won’t regret it,” he whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss against your skin.

Your heart felt full, and your inner omega wanted to shout with joy. “Take me home then.”

Bucky sped off a moment later, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him. Your core ached as you looked at him, giving you a chance to once again take in his profile. The saying of aging like fine wine probably rang true for him. You imagined he was always good looking, but he was both rough and refined thanks to his age. People who said perfection didn’t exist clearly never saw him before.

“You like what you see?” he asked.

“I do, but you know that,” you answered, his jaw clenching when you pulled your dress up to reveal your legs. “And didn’t you promise to get me off before we got to your place?”

The sexual tension that had been building up spiked, and you sensed his need to claim you in some capacity was rising to the surface. “Give me your panties,” he ordered, giving you a sharp look. “Now.”

“You’re bossy,” you smiled, pushing your dress higher. He swore under his breath when you gripped your underwear and slid it off, your slick practically dripping from the flimsy fabric. No one ever got you that wet before. “But I kind of like it.”

He chuckled, licking his lips. “You like it because it’s me,” he pointed out, snatching the underwear out of your hand once it was within reach. You watched with a whine as he brought it to his nose and deeply inhaled. “Fuck…” he growled, bringing the fabric to the tent growing in his pants next and rubbing all over it in a filthy display. Watching him ruin his pants with the scent and slick of your pussy had you soaking the seat beneath you. “Spread your legs and show me that pretty cunt.”

You trembled when he took his eyes off the road. Pulling your dress over your hips, you obediently spread your legs and let him get a good look at what would soon belong to him. “You like what you see?”

“Just wait until I tie you to my bed and get a real look before I fuck you. It’ll be a shame to wreck something so pretty, but you’ll thank me for it,” he replied, looking back at the road as he sped up. Oh, you’d thank him over and over. “Touch yourself, but don’t put your fingers inside.”

Bringing your hand between your legs, you gasped at how sensitive you were. It was like you were in heat, but fully aware of your surroundings. “Like this?” you asked, moving your fingers along your folds.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his gaze darting between you and the road. You hoped one day he’d fuck your throat while he drove. “Now give me your hand.”

You presented your glistening fingers to him, giving him the opportunity to grip your wrist and suck the wet digits into his mouth. You felt his mouth water from your taste, the groan of arousal in his throat making you shake. He didn’t stop until he licked your fingers clean. “You taste just as divine as you smell,” he said, releasing your hand and reaching over to cup your mound. “And I need more.”

“I need more, too,” you moaned, his palm rubbing your clit and building that ecstasy within you. He teased your dripping hole with another finger, but didn’t push inside yet. You arched your hips, trying to get him to breach you. “Please.”

“That’s a good girl saying please,” he praised, finally pushing a thick finger inside. You clenched around him so tight, your body wanting more. “Fuck, you’re tight. And wet. Made just for me. Imagine how good you’ll feel once you’re stretched around my cock.”

“Want your cock,” you moaned, opening your legs wider. “Want your big cock inside me.”

“Yeah, you do. You want my big, bare cock in your soaked cunt,” he said, pushing another finger in, your slick coating them. You didn’t let anyone fuck you bare before, but you’d let him. “You want my knot, too.”

You moaned, an image of you on your hands and knees flashing in your mind, Bucky’s strong hands pulling you back to meet every thrust until he locked your bodies in place. You could practically feel his teeth sinking into your neck to fully seal your fate. Or would he make love to you, linking your fingers together and kissing you with care as he tenderly pushed his knot in? It didn’t matter. He’d give you everything, and you wanted it all.

“Are you hard just thinking of fucking of me raw?” you moaned, the need to rip the top of your dress open to reveal your breasts strong. No… If your dress was going to get torn to shreds, he could do that himself. “Coming so deep inside me you’ll drip out of me days later?”

The next growl he let out was inhuman, his fingers curling until you cried out. “My good little omega has a dirty mouth on her,” he smirked.

“I do have a dirty mouth. You should fuck it sometime,” you smiled sweetly before your mouth fell open, his expert fingers fucking you deep. Talking dirty to him helped stamp down your emotions a bit, but they were threatening to surface the more he touched you. “Bucky.”

“That’s it. Say my name. Tell me who you belong to,” he demanded. Your back arched, gripping the leather seat until your hand ached. Your body certainly knew who owned you. “Tell me who’s going to take care of you.”

You bit your lip to hold back your whimper, your heart pounding out of control. No one took care of you. No one wanted to until tonight, and you hadn’t wanted that either.

He stopped moving his fingers, keeping perfectly still as you hissed in frustration. Was he really going to build you up and not let you finish? “Tell me,” he demanded again, gentler this time.

Your eyes burned, but you swallowed your pride. Again. “You, Bucky,” you whispered, trusting that he’d be an alpha of his word. “You'll take care of me.”

He cooed when you whimpered, slipping a third finger in and moving them again. “That’s my girl. My good omega. I know that wasn’t easy for you to say,” he praised, so proud of you. Part of you was proud of yourself, too. “Do you need to come?”

“Yes!” you cried out, desperately trying to ride his fingers as the pressure grew. You were so close. Just a little more…

“Then do it. Get that slick all over my hand and seat,” he said, pushing against your bundle of nerves once more as your body locked up. “And say. My. Name.”

Waves of pleasure rolled through you, colors blurring your vision as you cried his name. Your eyes rolled back as the squelching sound of your cunt filled the car, his fingers helping you ride it out. You were drowning, unable to breathe until you broke through the haze. You felt ruined already by his fingers. Oh, his cock was going to destroy you.

“Fuck, that’s it. Give it to me. That’s my good girl. Can’t wait to feel that all over my cock.”

He only removed his fingers when you whined and licked your essence away with a low moan. The beautiful bastard still looked so put together, and hadn’t swerved once while he drove. “Holy shit,” you exhaled, your walls still fluttering. The orgasm took the edge off while leaving you wanting more. “Did I… soak your hand?”

“You did,” he confirmed, your face hot. “Fuck, I’m going to need an entire weekend to eat your sweet cunt just to start,” he said, flashing you a smile. “And you make very pretty sounds when you come.”

You managed a smile as you slumped in the seat, your dress still bunched around your waist. “What do you sound like when you come?” you asked breathlessly.

“You’ll find out,” he promised.

You trembled again when he put his hand back on your thigh, your hand immediately covering his. You needed his touch to ground you, but didn’t want to say so. “I just realized something,” you said once you fully caught your breath.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“If you’re my mate but you haven’t marked me yet, and you plan to pay for… well, everything for me for the time being,” you said, a laugh bubbling up when you saw that your window was fogged up. You drew a little smiley face, making you laugh more before you glanced at him. “You’re kind of like my sugar daddy.”

The look on his face before he laughed made him look younger, the sound affectionate and happy. How many managed to make him laugh like that? “Does that mean you’re going to call me ‘Daddy’?”

“Don’t push it, old man,” you giggled. Though if anyone could sway you, it would be him. “Why don’t we just stick with ‘alpha’ for now?”

“That and Bucky,” he suggested, turning his hand so your palm rested against his. “I like hearing you say my name, doll,” he added in a whisper.

“I like saying your name, Bucky,” you said, your brows furrowing. “But who came up with that nickname?”

He chuckled again, your skin tingling when he lifted your hand to kiss it. “You don’t want to hear about that.”

“Yes, I do,” you said.

He stole a glance at you. Through the heavy scent of your orgasm, you detected joy seeping from him. It made you feel happy, too. “Okay,” he smiled, running his thumb along your hand. “I got the nickname a long time ago…”

You twisted more in your seat to face him as you listened, lost in his voice and smile. There was so much you had to learn about your alpha. His likes and dislikes. What he would be like before, during, and after his ruts. He had a lot to learn about you, too. You wouldn’t give up on your dream of becoming a designer, and accepting his help may not be such a bad thing.

And maybe accepting the fact that you had a mate to depend on wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

So, what do we think so far? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[4shivasdaughter4]

The First Indicator of Shiva in My Life

It all began when I first watched the 2012 Tamil movie titled as Thaandavam. My family and I used to just go to the cinema to watch movies together and this just happened to be a movie I knew nothing about prior to entering the cinema hall.

The main character’s name was Shivakumar (Shiva for short). It would be too long to explain the storyline of the entire movie, but essentially, Shivakumar got into an arranged marriage with Meenakshi and they were kind of experiencing each other as husband and wife without prior knowledge of each other. Btw, it was a great action movie. It’s not just sappy romance yeah, just to make it clear. 😇

Anyway, being the hopeless romantic I was, I fell in love with their scenes, because, for the first time in my mind, it seemed like the idea of an arranged marriage wasn’t bad at all. P.S, I was only pro love marriages back then. 🙈

The movie made arranged marriage look very romantic. It’s like you could see the transition from dislike to like, from learning to be friends first to two people who realise they’ve fallen for each other and then confessing their love for one another in meaningful, simple and romantic ways. 💕 You will see what I mean when you watch this music video below:

There was just something so magical about the arranged marriage that was portrayed and the couple expressing what they realised they felt for each other. I fell so in love with the chemistry and the characters that I took the love back home after I left the cinema. 😂

Being a hopeless romantic, I fantasised having such a husband in my life for days after that. As in I wanted to have such a caring husband just as the character Shiva in this movie, or even such a marriage someday.

But here was the part I didn’t expect: I remember I had exams coming up in the next one month or so, and I really needed to study, but for some reason, I just couldn’t! 🤯

I was literally in my own world, procrastinating to glory during my study time to imagine having such a husband and living life with him. Literally just being all in my head! It felt almost like a spell because it’s not that I didn’t try to deviate from daydreaming. It just felt almost impossible! And I can’t explain why. It was to the point that I barely spent any time studying for my exams!

I know I sound like the world’s biggest bimbo, but the constant fantasising was just a coping mechanism for me in order to feel loved back then. Again, no shame in it. It’s just that this thing that was happening felt almost like there was a force coercing me to continue because in that moment, nothing else mattered more than convincing myself that I love something about this character named Shiva. 💙

From then on, every time I thought (or daydreamed) about my future husband, only the name Shiva I would utter. And I won’t deny that even to this day, even after knowing that He is my guardian and my heavenly father, sometimes I still feel like the definition of a loving man is still Shiva. I still sometimes utter his name when I think of someone who loves me in a romantic manner but I do of course, remember that He is my father. ❤️

It’s been 11 years now since I first discovered Him in my life. Yet, I didn’t know what it meant until just a few months ago. It’s funny how there’s always a reason for why things happen in your life but you only find out like much later. This is exactly why we should open up our senses to the Universe and be ready to receive so that when the Universe speaks to us, it will lead us to paradise. 🌴

[mmunson86]

Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’. 

Alright this is the moment that we meet Eddie eeek let the fun begin🙈💗

Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face

Y’all know i am about to eat this up! i am a WHORE for Eddie with his hair up or in a bun like laaawd mercy me please!

What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.” 

Fist of all NO we are here for a JOB and secondly sheesh Eddie you are sure laying it on thiiiick, pretty confident if you ask me😌

“Really? You?” 

Uhhh yeah we just told you silly we are here for the job interview, why are acting surprised you need the help and we need a job🙃

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line”

LMAO okay the guy has jokes, that was a good, but i can see why MAC needs a receptionist 😅

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?” 

Hmmm well why dont you buy us a coffee before we go off kissing a total stranger Eddie😌

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.” 

Well yeah… i am sure we can do all of the above buuut now dealing with Eddie is going to be a challenge , we will be just fine i am sure of it 🙃

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers. 

Yuuup this sounds like something Eddie would do out of boredom😂

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?”

You know what Eddie you make it almost impossible for us to play nice ! Its too early in the morning to be fighting with you

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?” 

Well well well look who is finally playing nice and actually trying to get along with us, proud of you Eddie! You can be tolerable😅💗

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.” 

Okaay he is making me blush! Stop it Eddie buuut uh i am sure we would love to watch you play , we already got the invite it would be rude to turn it down💗😌

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.” 

Seems like a good offer buuut idk if we could stay friends after this because i am sure we will end up falling head over heels for ya Eddie

Gaaaah this was so freaking good i cant wait for more 💗

The Ink Shop

Description: Desperate for a job, you answer an advertisement not knowing it's a tattoo shop. It's not particularly difficult work, except for one thing: having to deal with Eddie Munson. 

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI or I'll tell your parents, fem reader, thick sexual tension, angst and smut. Fingering. 

A/N: I finally wrote it! The teach me fic I've been day dreaming about forever. This will be part one of three, and honestly this is one of the hottest things I've written. If you enjoy it, please comment and reblog, it means the world to me. 

8k words

Masterlist

Screwing your nose up in confusion, you look at the meticulously cut snippet of newspaper neatly attached to your resume with a paperclip. Sure enough, receptionist and administrator wanted for a place called ‘The Ink Shop’. 

The outside of the building looks a little bleak, all decked out in black with frosted windows, but the fading lettering above does indeed spell out ‘The Ink Shop’. 

Weird. This does not look like a printers. 

You smooth down a minor wrinkle in your white shirt and open the door with unsure hands, the bell above ringing out loudly. 

Oh. 

This is not a printers. This is a tattoo shop. 

The thought hadn't even crossed your mind. The noise is a cacophony of buzzing, rock music and loud conversation. Art hangs on every available wall, the wallpaper underneath a royal purple, faded over time. There's frames upon frames of predesigned pieces for people to choose from, and an enormous wooden counter, black and gouged with use, directly in front of the doors. 

Taking a confidence boosting breath you march forward, pencil skirt stretching and heels clicking on the black and white linoleum, and stand by the counter. No one seems to have noticed your arrival, and a polite cough is not going to cut it. 

“Hello?” Calling out to the shop, a devilishly handsome tattooed man in a ripped band shirt, black jeans and scuffed army boots turns his head. Loose dark curls escape a low bun and swivel with him, framing his animated face. He saunters over to the counter and towers over you, giving you an appraising look. 

“You old enough to be in here sweetheart?” He asks, amused, as he points to the sign on the wall that states ‘Strictly Over 21s, no exceptions’. 

“Yes?” You're trying to be confident but it comes out as a question, entirely taken aback by the strength of his stare. 

“Oh, well then I'm Eddie,” he holds out a hand and you're forced to reach up to shake it, but to your surprise he doesn't let go. The skin is rougher than you thought it would be, and absolutely covered in small tattoos. “What is it today? Let me guess, cover up an ex boyfriend's name? I can help you forget all about him.” 

The grin he shoots back is nothing short of predatory. All you can think of is that old childhood song, never smile at a crocodile…

“No, no, I'm here about the job?” 

He looks genuinely surprised, taking in your outfit in another flagrant stare. 

“Really? You?” 

“Yes, me.” You respond, cheeks flushing in annoyance. 

“Hey, Mac!” He calls over his shoulder and a big guy with a shaved head lowers his tattoo gun, glancing over at you both. “This girl's after a job?” 

Mac stands up slowly and begins to walk over. 

“You can let go now princess.” 

Staring at Eddie dumbfoundedly, you realise his grip on your hand has softened completely. Whipping your hand away, you flash him a defiant eye. It's ineffective; he merely grins wider and winks at you, poking his tongue out playfully. You see a hint of silver, a tongue piercing. 

“Hey there, I'm Mac, the owner.” another handshake, but gentler and brief. You introduce yourself and go to hand him your resume. 

A phone rings on the counter and Mac shouts “no!” just as Eddie picks it up. 

“Mac’s Roadkill Café, from your grill to ours.” Eddie delivers the line as smooth as silk, never taking his eyes off you. “Yeah, it's Eddie, of course. Oh, I'll tell him. Thanks.” 

As Eddie turns to Mac he's given a small but effective slap to the back of the head by Mac. 

“What did I tell you, stop answering like that!” 

Eddie just grins wider and looks at you again, a fake pout on his full lips. 

“You see that? Harassment in the workplace. Wanna kiss it better?” 

Mac shuts his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, then turns to face you again. 

“Are you immediate start?” 

“Er, yeah. I've got my resume, and references here-” 

“Listen Miss, if you can read and write, answer a phone, and put up with that-” he says, gesturing a thumb at Eddie, “then you've got the job.” 

Thank God, two of those references were your best friend with different names. Stunned, you just nod fast.

“Great. Tomorrow morning. We open at 10am.” 

Saying goodbye, you turn to exit, and risk one final glance over your shoulder. Eddie's still at the counter. A disarming wink, and then the door shuts behind you. 

********************

So, not exactly what you expected, but a job's a job. After getting a degree, you'd assumed doors would open, but a string of coffee houses later and here you are. You'll take it. 

It's 9:30 am, and you stand outside, wondering whether or not to try the door. Keen, but not too keen. It's a line you're trying to toe without much experience, especially with an establishment like this. 

A pretty woman with an undercut and a butterfly neck tattoo stirs you out of your calculations. 

“Hey, I'm Chloe. You're the new girl, right? Eddie bet you'd be early.” 

Blushing at the entirely accurate first impression, you try to stop your nose scrunching in distaste. As if reading your mind, Chloe chuckles.

“Ah, don't worry about him, he's an idiot. Come on, I'll show you the ropes.” 

Chloe is the piercer that basically rents a place in the shop, where she's been for around three years, she explains. There's also Julio, who does more realistic tattoo work, and Miranda who works part time. 

Chloe turns out to be warm and welcoming, showing you how they book clients in, how to take payments, and the phone note system. It's straightforward work, stuff you'll master in no time. In fact, you feel comfortable enough by 10 am to sit at the counter on your own.

Mac arrives on time, giving you a quick check in and taking down all your information on a yellow legal pad. 

“Do you not have a computer in here?” you ask, genuinely puzzled. 

“Oh no, not yet. I don't know how to work those things, Miss.” Mac chuckles, and gets to his station to prepare for his first client.

At 10:45 am Eddie walks through the door as if he owns the place. 

Your eyes widen at his brazen lateness, but no one seems to bat an eyelid. It boils your blood; to be that disrespectful and clearly not care. How could someone act like that? 

“Hey princess, didn't think you'd come back,” he smiles, reaching for your hand. 

Oh I'm not falling for that again. 

You pull your hand into your lap, expecting trickery from him. A smug grin smears across his face at the gesture, as if he knew you'd do that. It makes you even more annoyed. 

“Eddie, the book says you start,” you say, flicking through the tome in front of you, “ah, at 10 am today.” 

“It's walk-in Wednesday sweetheart. There's no one here.” 

He's got a point. Chloe had explained the tattoo artists work a shift of Wednesdays, someone is always available for walk-ins for small and pre designed pieces. Today is Eddie's turn, and he's right, no one is here. 

“Well, there could have been,” you snark back, folding your arms. 

He crosses into the shop, pushing the little gate open and stands next to you, arms crossed. The height you had is now lost, forcing you to look up at him. 

“As far as I know, you ain't the boss of me. I suggest taking the stick out of your ass before you come here.” 

Mouth falling open in outrage, you move to reply but he's already turned away. 

“Oh, and princess, there ain't a dress code.” 

He's gone, disappearing upstairs. Blushing crimson, you cross your arms as if you can hide the conservative outfit you're wearing. 

You're beginning to see why Mac asked if you could put up with Eddie. 

********************

Halfway through the day, you realise just why Mac puts up with Eddie. 

“Hey! Seeing if I can book with Eddie?” 

“Any appointments with Eddie?” 

“Just checking to see if Eddie had any cancellations?” 

It seems most calls are about him. As you check his schedule, it's not only fully booked for the next 6 months, they've even started a waiting list at the back. 

“Any walk-ins?”

The words next to your ear make you jump bodily, almost losing your place on your chair in alarm. 

“You scared me! No, I would have said,” turning to him, you're sucked into those deep brown eyes once again. “Why do you do walk-in Wednesdays if you're so… so popular?” 

Eddie flashes a smile at you, full of self importance. “I don't know sweetheart, Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle!” Shouting the last part at the back of Mac's head, he turns to you. “We just divided the shifts, so it was fair, that's all. Why, want a tattoo?” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I was just wondering.”

“Do you have any, princess?” 

“Not that it's any of your business, but no, I don't.” 

The laugh that rips from Eddie's chest is hearty and full of amusement. 

“You work in a tattoo shop and you don't have any? That's practically blasphemy!” 

The little bell above the door rings, and a nervous guy looks around before walking in. Before you see what he wants, you shout to Eddie's retreating back. 

“Van Gogh was only famous after he died, you know!” 

It's a little later on in the day; you've done a stock take, ordered more ink, and neatened up the consent sheets three times. The phone hasn't rung in a while, and you're bored out of your mind. 

Chloe walks over, coat in her hand. 

“Hey, how you getting on?” 

“I'm good, just bored.” 

She laughs, “it's not always this quiet, mid week and all. Mac's done for the day, and I'm heading off. You gonna be OK?” 

You glance over to Eddie, who to your surprise is tattooing his own fingers. 

“What, with the untrained monkey? I'll live.” 

She laughs harder at that, “he's not so bad, once you get to know him.” Lowering her voice, she whispers, “he's good at some things, you know.” The conspiratorial wink fills in what she isn't saying. Cheeks flushed, you gawp at Eddie and back at Chloe. 

“Huh? W-what, are you like, an item?” You ask, entirely thrown. 

“Oh no, he's not exactly boyfriend material. It was just one night, but bloody hell. Anyway, it's not like that anymore, we're just friends now. Maybe you two should just, you know.” 

A blush floods your face, almost reaching the roots of your hair. “I don't- I don't, do that.” 

“I'm just saying, it's an option. It'd stop the bickering at least. I can sense the tension from all the way over there.” 

Without a further word, she leaves you sitting on your stool, trying to remember how to breathe. 

Right, let's just play nice. 

Walking over to his station, you try to glimpse what he's tattooing. 

“I thought Van Gogh wasn't made to doodle” you quip, trying to keep it light. 

“This is different” he responds, not looking up at you.

“You know, that's a waste of a needle.” 

Eddie turns the machine off and rolls his eyes at you. 

“Who made you Princess of the Needles, hmmm?” 

“Mac did actually, when he asked me to check the stock,” you reply hotly, folding your arms. Stopping for a second, you take a breath. Play nice, you're supposed to be playing nice. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to-” 

Eddie turns the machine back on and continues with his impromptu tattoo. 

“Can't you just be… professional?” You ask over the buzzing. 

“Can't you just relax for a second? No ones here. Fuck, you need to get laid.” 

Mouth dropping open in shock, you grab your bag and stomp out of the store, anger fuelling every step. 

********************

Right, be calm, put together. You've dealt with worse people. 

It's true. At the coffee shop you had on edge caffeine addicts shout in your face almost on a daily basis, but none of them got under your skin like Eddie did. Then again, none of them had spat truths like venom in your face.

Breathe. Just breathe. 

Taking the leap, you walk into the shop, coffees and a tray of donuts in hand; a small peace offering. To your surprise, he is already at his station, sorting through ink pots. 

You make quick work of handing out coffee and donuts to everyone, until you reach his side. There's plastic wrap around one of his fingers, you assume from his little tattoo session yesterday. It only serves to remind you of how tetchy you were. 

“Morning Eddie.” 

“So you came back. Tough little princess ain't ya? Remove the stick from your ass yet?” The grin he flashes you is wide but there's a bite to his words. 

He's trying to rile you up, but you ignore it, thrusting a coffee at him. 

“I'll be nice if you will.” 

Tension laces the air as he stares at your outstretched hand, but he takes the coffee. 

“I'm sorry Eddie.” 

Opening the box of donuts, you gesture for him to take one. He does, stuffing half of it into his mouth. 

“What about you?” you ask.

“Huh?” He mumbles through a mouthful of crumbs. 

“Are you sorry…?” 

“What for?” 

Setting your jaw, your hand is about two seconds from slapping the shit out of him, but you need the money. So, you huff and walk away. 

“What did I do?” He huffs, shouting it to the shop. 

“You should just say sorry, you've clearly upset her.” Chloe calls over to him, a slight smile on her face. 

“Yeah, how do you know?” 

“You upset everyone Eddie.” She laughs, and stands to greet her first client. 

It's a tense kind of day, with neither you nor Eddie backing down, only speaking to each other if absolutely necessary. By the time everyone's left it's just you and him again. 

He's finishing up with a client, telling them about aftercare as they gush about their new ink. It's difficult to deny, the guy is talented. This phoenix tattoo looks like it's popping right off of the skin, the flames so bright and detailed you could swear you saw them move. 

Once they've left, there's an awkward pause. Eddie breaks the silence first. 

“Listen, I'm sorry sweetheart. I shouldn't have been rude to you. So I'll make you a deal. I'll give you a tattoo, for free, and we ask each other questions, get to know each other. What do you say?” 

Smiling in spite of yourself, you turn to face him. “And why would I want a tattoo?” 

He visibly relaxes at your grin, and flashes one of his own. “Come on, I'm the best. I promise I'll be gentle.” 

“We close at six, so it'll have to wait.” 

Eddie looks at the clock, and bobs his head with each tick. Twenty seconds later he turns to you, eyebrows raised.

“Fine, I suppose it is a bit silly to work in a tattoo shop with no ink.” 

He punches the air with glee, forcing you to smile despite your better judgement. 

“Well then, what are you thinking, got any ideas in mind?” 

“I want a heart on my hip” he groans, putting his face in his hands, “hang on, before you judge, I want one like this.” 

Pulling a book from your bag, you turn to the page neatly bookmarked. It's an anatomical heart from a textbook you own, a line and dot drawing.

“Oh.” Eddie's eyes light up, “that's pretty metal, actually. So, you just happen to have this on you?” 

“No, I've been thinking about it for a while. It's… not what people would expect. And when I got the job here, I was working up the courage to get it. Carrying around the book was a promise to myself, I think.” 

He busies himself with getting a stencil ready, the drawing supplied speeding up the process. 

“Right, climb on up princess, show me where you want it.”

Blushing, you unzip your skirt at the back and roll it down slightly, shifting your blouse up high. The smile Eddie gives you is salacious, but he doesn't say a word. 

“Right here?” Softly his fingertips graze you, making you jump. That simple act crackles over your skin in an electricity unknown to you. 

“Y-yes,” you practically whisper it, face crimson. 

“So, questions. Can I go first?” 

“Sure” you nod, feeling vulnerable flashing this much skin. 

“OK,” he starts, pressing the stencil down, “I'll start with an easy one. How old are you?” 

“23.” 

He nods, prepping the needle, “your turn princess.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Ah, copycat,” he grins, testing the gun, the sudden noise making you jump, “I'm 30 sweetheart. I know, I look younger.” 

Act younger is more like it. 

“I'm gonna start, you still alright?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Atta girl. It'll feel like a scratch.” 

He leans forward as his words burn your insides. Atta girl? Part of you wanted to tell him you're not a fucking horse, but another, deeper, part keens at the praise, kicking it's feet and twirling its hair like some dizzy schoolgirl.

The needle touches and you jump, but it's fine. It's easy. If anything, it's rather nice? You gasp at the feeling, your feet wiggling. 

“Right, next question. Why here, why this job?” 

The gun is moving across your skin, consuming all rational thought. You could lie, but a part of you feels like he'd know somehow. 

“I thought it was a printers shop, or a copy place.” 

He laughs briefly, but continues to focus on your new ink. 

“I knew it. Pretty, innocent thing like you, wandering into this den of depravity? Too good to be true.” 

Glazing over his comment, you think of a question to ask. 

“How did you start working here?” 

Eddie scoffs and turns off his machine for a moment, “you need to get creative, stop using my questions.” 

“I really want to know!” You say, meeting his derisory look. 

“Fine, quid pro quo and all that shit. Been here seven years. I begged. I begged Mac for an apprenticeship everyday for a week. He gave in, and here I am. Ask something else, that was boring.” 

You wrack your brains, trying to think of something original, far too aware of the steadying hand that he's pushing onto your abdomen. 

“What band is that?” 

It's the only thing that pops into your mind. He follows your eye line to his t-shirt. 

“Oh this? This is my band, Corroded Coffin. You should come see us sometime.” 

“Oh, what do you play?” 

His face lights up, “I sing, and play guitar. That's why my fingers are so rough-” he holds one up, covered in black latex, “-oh yeah, gloves.” 

After you both share a chuckle, there's a breath of quiet between you, except for the sound of the tattoo gun.

“My turn,” he says, smiling at your hip, “I gotta know, are you a virgin?” 

It's a miracle that he's as responsive as he is, since the question knocks you sideways. You sit up in shock, but he's already moved the needle off and away. 

“You can't just ask that, it's… it's rude!” you splutter, face glowing red. 

There's no trace of apology on his face. In fact, his grin only widens with your reply. 

“I thought so. Don't worry, I'm not gonna tease you about it.” 

Laying back down, you try to think of something to say, but it just doesn't arrive. He can read you like an open book and it's deeply unsettling, not to mention embarrassing. 

“Your turn princess.” 

“I don't want to play anymore.” 

“Oh come on, I'm being nice! Ask me something.” 

“Fine. What was your last wet dream about?” 

To your dismay, he smiles yet again.

“You, sweetheart.” 

Huffing, you cross your arms in annoyance. “Fine, don't answer.” 

He's focusing on your tattoo, tongue poking out in concentration, “I'm nearly done, then you can go back to hating me.” 

“I don't hate you. I've never hated anyone,” you respond in truth. Eddie's eyebrows raise, but he remains focused. 

“Really? You must have had a much better childhood than mine.”

It's quiet for a bit. You're not sure how to respond to that, feeling the cloud of his memory hanging thickly in the air between you. 

“All done.” 

“Huh?” 

He chuckles and points at your new ink, “take a look.” 

It's beautiful. All line and dot work, like it was pulled from the book itself and glued to your hip. 

“It's amazing Eddie. Thank you.” 

The grin he shoots you is warm as he wraps your new ink and then removes his gloves. “No problem. I'll lock up, the sheets on aftercare are right there. But you knew that.” 

Smiling affectionately, you take one and stand up, hovering for a second. 

“Eddie what do I owe-” 

“-not a damn thing. See you in the morning, princess.”

********************

The next few days were much more pleasant. Eddie was flirty, yes, but he seemed to understand when to stop. You had been nicer to him, biting back on the comments when you could. There was a rhythm to it, a constant dance of him flustering you and you annoying him. 

Things really felt like they were falling into place. Until Eddie decided to cross the line. 

Walk in Wednesday again, and the shop was dead. Julio was on shift, sitting in the back having a nap. 

“Hey Mac, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, what is it Miss?” 

“Well, how do people know about our Wednesdays?” 

“Mostly word of mouth. We handed out flyers before, but it didn't really pick up. Honestly, I'm thinking of scrapping it.” He shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Before you do, I have an idea. I can design some flyers, get them out to the coffee shop I used to work at. It's by campus, I'm sure a few students would jump at the chance. You could offer a student discount, get them in the door?” You stare at him wide eyed, hoping he likes the idea. The little speech was one you'd practised about fourteen times before actually saying it to him. 

He stares at you for a moment, then smiles. “You know, that's a good idea. I like it. Tell you what, you make it a success and I'll give you a raise.” 

“Oh, thank you! I'll get on it.” You beam, and start planning the flyer. 

Ten minutes later you have your head down, your attention entirely on the paper in front of you. The noisy shop was purely a background soundtrack, including the approaching footsteps. Then, there's a whisper, directly in your ear. 

“What you up to, princess?” 

“Fuck!” 

You scream it out and jump so high you fall off your stool. Eddie's in bits, laughing so hard he's clutching his stomach. 

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to,” he says, looking the least sorry you've ever seen a person look. 

Clambering off the floor to berate him, your mouth flops open when you hear a rip. As you desperately turn your head to look down, you see where your pencil skirt has torn right next to the seam nearly up to your ass. 

“Fuck's sake Eddie! What the hell am I gonna do!” 

Hands shaking, you clench your jaw in panic, trying to frantically come up with a way to rectify it. Eddie holds his hands up to you as if he were approaching a wild animal. 

“Just calm down princess, it's only a skirt.” 

Pouting, you hit him on the arm. 

“It's not just a skirt! I can't work like this, how can I go home and change, I won't be able to fix it and-” 

Eddie smiles and holds one of your hands. 

“It's gonna be OK, we can sort something out. You seriously need to chill, have a big O or something.” He chuckles, clearly meaning for it to be a joke, but it's hitting too close to home. 

It's never happened for you. You've kissed guys, sure, but whenever they reach into your pants, it's either uncomfortable or downright painful. Even your own desperate fumblings haven't got you there. Most of the time you just feel stupid and awkward trying to touch yourself. So, you'd given up, thinking you're broken. That it'll never happen for you. 

Tears well immediately in your eyes. He knows he fucked up, it's written all over his face. As he opens his mouth to speak you rip your hand from his grasp and run to the restroom sobbing. 

It's stupid, it's so stupid. You know that, but the tears won't stop falling, face hot and scrunched as you sit on the closed toilet seat with your head in your hands. Your breath is heavy, gulping and wet; you dimly wonder if you can just stay here until the shop closes.

There's a gentle knock on the door. 

“Sweetheart, can I come in?” It's Eddie, voice softer than you've ever heard it. 

“Go away” you manage. It's shaky and pathetic sounding, but it's out there. 

“I'm not going anywhere. Talk to me, you'll feel better, I promise.” 

He tries the door, turning the handle before you get a chance to lock it. Jumping upright, you go to push him away but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into him. His embrace takes away that edge and pretty soon you're just sobbing into his chest. 

As he strokes the back of your head, he makes shushing noises, his other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. You're not sure how long you stay like that, in the warmth of his hold, his body pressed against yours. The tenderness calms you down until your tears stop, but he doesn't pull away. 

After a while, he whispers, “feel a little better?” 

“Y-yeah,” you say, voice returning to itself. 

Only then does he release you, rubbing a thumb under your eye to wipe moisture away. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you. You wanna go somewhere and talk about it?” 

“I- I've never- I don't talk about- I-” you shake your head as if to clear it. A part of you wants to hit him, to shout at him, but his gaze is so concerned that you agree. Your shoulders slump, losing a bit of tension. “OK.” 

Smiling at you, he whips his flannel shirt off, leaving him in a white vest, and ties it around your waist. 

“For your modesty. Come with me.” 

Puzzled, you follow him out of the bathroom and back into the shop where Mac is sitting looking worried. 

“What's going-” 

Eddie interrupts, “emergency late lunch needed, alright? Can you cancel my 3 o clock?” 

Mac seems confused, but looks at Eddie's earnest face, and your emotional one, and nods. 

“Not a problem.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

Before you can ask where you're going, he pulls you from the shop by the arm and across the street into a dimly lit bar, depositing you in the nearest booth. 

“I'll be right back.” 

If he's uncomfortable by his appearance, he doesn't show it. The way he strides up to the bar, it's as if he owns the place. It's remarkable, the sheer confidence he embodies like a second skin. 

“Hey, John!” He hollers, knuckles knocking on the wood of the bar. 

John appears, a gruff, stocky guy with a buzz cut and a sour face. 

“What the fuck are you doing here.” 

“Oh come on, you know you missed me.” 

John's face screws into something akin to a smile. “What do you want, you little shit.” 

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Eddie grins and winks, “two beers please.” 

A grunt and a nod, and John puts the beers down on the bar. As Eddie reaches for his wallet John waves a hand in dismissal. 

“Put that away boy, your money ain't good here. Besides, your lady friend looks like she needs it.” 

You flush and tear your eyes away, embarrassed. Eddie walks back over and puts a beer in front of you. 

“Eddie, we're still working I-” 

“It's one beer. It's alright.” 

You shrug and take a sip, nodding at the bartender, “he knows I'm upset, do I look a mess?” 

Shaking his head so hard it releases some of his wayward waves from their confines, he tips his beer at you, before he takes a long chug. 

“No,” he says enthusiastically, “you look just as pretty as you always do.” 

Scoffing, you turn your eyes downward. Eddie ignores your response, instead pressing on what happened earlier. 

“Sorry again,” he says, sounding genuinely distressed, "I don't want to see anyone hurt from something I said, least of all you.” 

Meeting his gaze, you smile incredulously. “Oh? And why me?” 

“Come on, don't make me say it.” 

Staring at him, you fold your arms in an act of defiance. He rolls his eyes and looks at you. 

“I like you. You're uptight, and mean to me, and a little conceited, but I like you. I don't want you to hurt. Can we just be friends? I'm a pretty good listener, you know? I can help.” 

Heat floods your insides. Eyes scanning him for any sign of a joke, you come up empty. 

‘I'm not conceited,” you counter weakly, clinging on to the familiar push and pull. 

“And I'm the Easter bunny.” 

Giggling, you take another sip of beer. 

“Come on, friends? Talk to me.” 

Sighing deeply, you fix your gaze at the table, forefinger tracing patterns in the condensation from your drink. “Promise not to laugh?” 

“I promise.” 

You can't tell how genuine he's being, as you don't dare look at his face, nerves controlling your every limb. His voice seems honest enough. 

“I- I have a problem, something I can't physically do. You reminded me of it. It's not your fault.” Shrugging in an attempt to make this look less serious than it is for you, you take a pull out of your beer bottle once more.

“Wait, are you saying…” he chuckles a little in disbelief, “have you never… had an orgasm before?” 

“Eddie, be quiet!” You urgently whisper, looking around the bar. 

“No one's listening sweetheart, no spies in here,” he says in a low tone, hand reaching out to grasp yours. Your first instinct is to shake his hand away but he holds firm, rough fingertips rubbing against your knuckles. 

“Eddie, I'm broken,” you whimper, voice breaking, “I can't do it.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” he responds, chock full of emotion, “you're not broken. You are perfect.” 

Pulling your hand away, you keep your eyes away from his, unwilling to meet that burning gaze of his. Unwilling to lose yourself in those sultry dark eyes. 

“I can't do it. Anytime some guy tries, it hurts. I've given up to be honest. I just wasn't made for it.” 

He laughs again, dragging his hand over his face. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, the problem ain't you. Have you- have you tried, fixing it, on your own?” The last part is a whisper, you assume to protect your feelings. 

“Yeah, but I just feel stupid and awkward. I don't know.” 

There's a little silence between you as you both dwell in the suffocating fog of your confession, neither of you willing to clear it. 

“Listen, this may be way out of your comfort zone, but I'm saying it anyway. If you don't like it, we'll forget it, and I won't mention it again.” 

Finally looking at him, at the vulnerability on his face, you nod, not trusting your voice. 

“I can… maybe I can help you. Show you you're not broken? As a favour between friends.” 

You laugh mirthlessly and finish your beer. “That's a little more than a favour, Eddie.” 

“We can keep it professional.” 

You stare at him wide eyed. His messy hair and dark glittering eyes. At the way he slumps in his seat like a king or a delinquent, you can't decide which. At his taunt frame, the tattoos spackling every available inch of his skin. Your eyebrows raise of their own accord. 

“Professional? You?” 

“Yeah, me! I can do it, you know. I could make you come.” 

A shiver forces its merry way down your spine at his words. 

“You're really confident.” 

“You haven't seen what I can do.” 

Blushing hard, you attempt to control yourself. “Look, if we're going to do this, I need you to promise some things.” 

“Ah, of course, you would have rules,” he grins, as he leans back and spreads in his seat, “continue.” 

Searching your mind for a moment, you try to glean what you need. 

“First of all, we need to be discreet, and professional at all times, clear?” 

“As crystal,” he grins wolfishly, “anything else?” 

“Yeah- I think,” you wrack your brains, trying to come up with something that would make this less intimate. Anything. But the roguish nature of his presence makes it hard to even think of a thing. Finally, your eyes widen at the idea that suddenly crosses your mind. 

“Final rule. No kissing.” 

He pouts, looking at your chest and back up, “no kissing anywhere?” 

“N-no, no kissing on the mouth.” 

Grin returning, he winks at you, a gesture that flips your stomach inside out. 

“Kinky. Alright, deal,” he leans forward to give his hand to yours. A hand covered in ink and calluses. Roughness and tenderness. 

You shake it.

********************

For the next couple of days, your little arrangement isn't brought up. A wild thought hammers itself into your mind; either he wasn't serious, or you imagined it. 

Those theories are put to bed on day three. 

After you let Mac know about the flyers and the bonus poster you designed, you sit back and enjoy the praise given to you. It's funny, the feeling of being told a job has been well done makes you happier than you care to admit.

Eddie turns up at the counter, whistling through his teeth. “Sweet looking flyers, how'd you swing those?” 

“I designed them. I've got a degree in design and marketing, if you didn't know,” you sniff, rearranging the stationary on the counter to avoid his eyes. 

“Maybe you could help me design some for my band. These look pretty metal.” He says, picking one up and looking at it closely. 

“Maybe.” 

Eddie leans in close, so close you feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek. 

“If you're still up for our arrangement, I'm free tonight.” 

Heat immediately flushes your face. Ignoring him entirely, you write your address and a time on a notepad, and thrust the paper into his hands. 

“Covert, I like it. See you then princess.” 

By the time 9pm rolls around you're a jittery mass of nerves, having changed clothes no less than four times, tidied your apartment, changed the bedsheets and paced so much you're surprised there's not a groove in the floorboards. 

In the end you'd decided on a baggy band t-shirt and your sleep shorts. It was a rational calculation to make Eddie think you're just wearing what you usually would at home and therefore show you're not nervous. I mean, you are wearing what you'd usually wear at home. He didn't need to know about how long it took you to reach that decision. 

The sound of the intercom buzzing sends your pulse into overdrive. Pressing the button, you let out a strangled “Hello?” 

“Hey princess.” 

“Come on up.” 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…

A soft knock at the door and you count to five, trying to remember how to breathe. When you open the door, you're stunned. He's leaning on the doorframe in a fucking button up shirt. It's black, and clings to him deliciously. His hair looks a little damp, loose around his shoulders, and his aftershave is making you feel dizzy. 

“Oh, you didn't need- I mean-” you point at his shirt, and he looks down and chuckles. 

“Just came from band practice. Took a shower, and this was clean,” he shrugs and shoulders into your apartment. “Nice place. Where's all your stuff?” 

You look around at your sparse apartment. Everything in order, down to the fresh flowers on your tiny dining table. 

“This is all my stuff,” you say, confused, “I don't like clutter.” 

He chuckles, walking over to you. “No wonder I annoy you. I am clutter.” 

He's close now, close enough so that you have to look up to see his face. His rough fingers ghost your arm, sending a wave of goosebumps over your skin. 

“Nice seeing you in something casual. L7, right?” He asks, pointing at the t-shirt. 

“Yeah, you know who they are?” 

“I'm surprised you do. Thought you'd be a Mariah Carey kinda girl.” 

You scrunch your face in distaste. “No, not at all. You don't know everything about me.” 

He leans in, warm breath a whisper in your ear. “I know some things about you.” 

Squirming hotly, you lead him to your room before you lose your nerve. 

“So, the princess's bedchamber. It's nice,” he remarks, flopping down on the bed as if it were his own. 

“Take your boots off,” you snip, folding your arms. 

“Ah, there she is.” He smiles, but does as instructed. Once more he's laying back into your scattered pillows looking perfectly at ease. You, on the other hand, stand there, spine a vertical rod as you stare back at him. 

 “Come on then, sit down.” 

Nervously you sit at the foot of the bed with your legs crossed. 

“Now princess, what do you do when you touch yourself?” 

Blushing furiously, you stammer out, “what, do you expect me to like, show you?” 

He chuckles, diffusing some of the tension. “As much as I'd like that, I don't think you're ready for that kinda shit. Just tell me, what's your thought process?” 

Staring at him for a little too long, you open your mouth and close it again. He rolls his eyes. 

“Look, if you want me to help I'll help, but you gotta give me something here.” He looks as if he's about to get up and leave; your arm shoots out on its own accord, grabbing his leg to stop him. 

“Sorry, sorry. I just, I've never spoken about this kinda stuff. I don't know about any process, I just… reach down and fiddle around?” You blush even more. 

“So you don't like, watch anything? Or read anything?” He looks a little amused.

“What on earth are you talking about?” 

“Porn, sweetheart.” 

It's so blunt that you jump a little. “Oh no, I've never, oh no no.” 

“Christ,” he whispers, “right, you can like, set the mood. Look at something to turn you on? It'd probably help you feel less awkward.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“And do you ever just like, slouch? I feel like I'm back at school looking at ya.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just, come here.” He pats the little space between his spread legs and you hesitate for a second before you crawl over to him. 

“How do you want me to sit, like cross legged or-” 

He grabs your hips and spins you, forcing your back into his crotch.

“Stop trying to control every little thing,” he says in a hard tone, one you're too embarrassed to admit makes your insides tingle. Softer, he continues. “Look, if you're ever gonna get there you need to relax, stop trying to control it, and stop overthinking.” 

“Great, all of the things I'm shit at.” 

His laugh is loud, it vibrates into your spine. “I'll help you, OK? You trust me?” 

“In a very limited sense of the word, yeah.” 

“Lemme rephrase. You still OK to do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Just relax.” 

You're not sure what you are expecting, but it certainly isn't his hands winding into your hair, fingertips rubbing softly at your scalp. It shoots tingles down your spine, your entire head feeling fuzzy and warm. 

You stifle a whimper, biting your lip. His fingers stop. 

“If you want to make noises, you can. Tells me I'm doing a good job. That goes for everything else too, alright?” 

“Alright.” You whisper. 

“You comfortable?” 

“Yeah it's just- well-”

“Tell me.” 

“I think it's your shirt buttons, they're digging into my back a bit,” you admit, feeling the sharp points down your spine. 

“Easily fixed.” He taps your arm and you lean forward. Some rustling, and he throws his shirt to the foot of your bed. 

“Now just chill sweetheart.” 

His fingers begin rubbing at you again, thumbs sinking low to pop at the bubbles in your neck. 

“Fuck, that's really nice.” 

He hums appreciatively, working his hands lower and dropping them to your shoulders. The massaging continues, and you feel yourself melting, your body moulding into his. Your legs, once ramrod straight, have bent a little and parted of their own accord, the muscles loosening. Even your breathing has slowed. 

“That's better, atta girl,” he says and you whine at the words, a little pathetic mewling sound that tumbles past your lips.

“Oh, you like that, don't you?” The smile is evident in his voice, a smug tone smeared liberally across each word. 

“You, you're so-” you begin, but his hand drags across the front of your shirt, just over the tops of your breasts.

“I'm so what?” He whispers in your ear.

“So, so arrogant,” you huff. He laughs, a husky chuckle, and dances the tips of his fingers over your clothed nipple. Gasping, you grasp at his thighs either side of you.

“Yeah? What else am I?” He says, nibbling at your earlobe. 

“You- you're cocky, and- and self assured- Oh God!” 

Rudely interrupted by him tweaking your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, you swear, back arching off of him for a moment. 

“You know,” he says in a gravelly tone directly in your ear, “those are pretty much the same thing.” 

“You drive me crazy,” you huff, squirming a little against him as his hands explore your chest over your shirt.

“Good crazy or bad crazy?” He smiles, then bites softly at your neck. 

“I- I haven't decided yet.” 

“Good. I can say the same about you,” he admits, his hands trailing lower, pulling your shirt up so he can stroke at your bare sides. The touch of fingertips on your skin sends a river of sensations through you that run deep into your core. 

“Are you going to- what are you doing, exactly?” You breathe, starting to move against him. 

“I'm warming you up sweetheart. Why, don't you like it?” 

Genuinely curious, you try to ask what you want to know without using the words. 

 “N- no, I do. Do you have to, erm, get warmed up? When you, you know.” 

He lets out a little huff of a laugh. “Guys are a little less… complicated, than girls. For the most part.” 

“Oh. OK, so you can just. I mean, you just, get excited?” Your breathing becomes more ragged when the tip of his thumb grazes the underside of your breast. 

“Sweetheart, I got hard seeing you in these little shorts.” Running a finger down your stomach, he lightly pings the elastic of your sleep shorts as if to accentuate his point. 

“Really?” 

There's no denying it when he moves his hips up and you feel his solid bulge press into the small of your back. 

“Really. Can I take this off?” He asks, twisting the hem of your shirt in one hand. 

“Yeah.” It's a whisper. You're a little scared of being bare chested, but not having to see his face helps. Plus, he's wound you up so much you're on the verge of begging for his touches, pleading for more. 

He guides your top up, up, up, revealing you slowly. Coaxing it over your head, you move your arms up so he can remove it. It ends up in a heap on top of his shirt. One tattooed arm wraps around your waist, pulling you toward him more, his hardness pushing against your ass. 

His breathing is unsteady as he grinds his hips, pushing onto you further. Gasping, your fingers are vices, firmly attached to his thighs in a vain attempt to anchor you. 

Suddenly his hand is winding into your hair, tugging your head aside so he can run a fat tongue across your neck. You shudder at the sensation, feeling the hard ball of his tongue piercing against your throat When he takes his pillowy lips and sucks at the spot between your neck and shoulder a moan slips out. Grunting in approval, his hands are on your bare tits, fingers pinching at your hardened nipples. 

“Holy hell!” 

He laughs, running rough fingers down your body, circling your new ink, then dipping down past your waistband. Those tattooed fingers barely brush your pubic hair, teasing you, then glide back up to your stomach. 

“Eddie, please.” 

Your voice is small, not your own. Eddie groans low in your ear, rubbing his length into the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, princess, I like you saying my name like that. You want me to touch you right here?” he says, pressing down hard over your clothed clit. 

The sheer relief of having his touch where you need it gets you close to tears; a gulping shudder of a sob rips from deep in your chest. 

“See, you're not broken, sweetheart. Can I take these off?” 

Shaking, you hook your fingers into your sleep shorts and pull them down your legs, air hitting your most intimate area. Eddie huffs in your ear, his inked hands rubbing up the insides of your thighs. 

“You're so fuckin’ sexy.”

Before you can retort, his fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering your slick. You can hear how wet you are, but it's not in you to think about it. You can't think, only feel. 

When his fingers run up and start rubbing circles into your clit, your response is visceral. Bucking up, you chase the feeling, searching for even more. 

“I'm gonna slip a finger in, alright princess?” 

You nod, waiting for the pain, wincing before it even starts.

“It's OK, you're fine, you gotta relax baby.” He strokes your stomach with his free hand, pressing kisses to your temple. 

The tip of his finger breaches you, and the pain doesn't come. Your soaking wet cunt invites him in, warm and pulsing with arousal. He slips it into the hilt, his palm pressing into your clit, and your moan is long and loud. It's never felt like this. Never has it stoked a fire in your gut, bubbled your insides like pop rocks and Coke, turned you into a writhing mess. 

He fucks his finger into you, slipping a second in to join the first, and you move your hips, chasing the building tightness in your belly. Each thrust of his hand has you bucking, and in turn rubbing against his member trapped within its denim prison. 

“That's it, good fuckin’ girl.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying hard not to lose control. 

“Eddie, oh fuck, f-feels so- good, yes, please, please-” 

You're not sure what you're begging for, and Eddie doesn't seem to be in any state to ask, but it doesn't matter. His fingers fuck into you in earnest, stroking hard against some spot inside that has you babbling and quivering around him. 

“God, you're so tight, this little cunts gonna drive me crazy. So wet and perfect, Jesus Christ.”

The feeling seems too much and not enough, and it grows higher and higher, flooding your body with a pleasure so intense you're sure you black out. The only thing you're aware of is your voice screaming out his name as your body thrusts wildly into his grip. Finally, it dissipates, your body melting against his form, sweating and spent. 

You take a breath, and another, trying to gather your wits enough to speak. Eddie speaks first.

“So sweetheart, everything you dreamed it would be?” He asks as he strokes your hair. 

“Better. Fuck, Eddie. Thank you.” 

“Anytime. Seriously. Any. Time. Day, night, weekends, holidays-” 

You giggle, slapping his thigh, and sit up, grabbing your discarded shirt to cover up. 

“Sorry, that was probably a little er, frustrating for you.” You say as you glance at his bare torso, drinking in the sight with your eyes for the first time. He's lean, but ripped, a faint sheen of sweating making his tattoos glisten in the low light. 

“What do you mean sweetheart?” 

“Well, doing that, not getting anything in return...” 

He chuckles lightly, “Oh I wouldn't say that,” he glances down, gesturing to his jeans, “full disclosure, I came in my pants.” 

“Really?” your eyes widen, staring at him with disbelief. 

“I ain't lying. Wanna check?” He waggles his eyebrows at you, making you laugh again. 

“You seem better already. Right, I better go.” 

Shoulders deflating, you pout, “I suppose you better.” 

“Hey don't look at me like that. I hoped that helped. Sleep tight, drink some water. I'll see you tomorrow princess.” 

And just like that, he leaves. Of course he leaves, it was just a deal you struck, nothing more. A favour. you wipe stray tears from your eyes and try not to focus on the sound of the front door shutting. 

As you collapse on the bed, exhausted, you think about his hands, his words. There's something screaming inside, telling you you're playing with fire, but as you drift off you can't find it in you to mind.

Taglist

@liminalpebble @eddies-puppet @rip-quizilla @micheledawn1975 @vanilla-demon @millercontracting @roanniom @josephquinnsfreckles @leelei1980 @mrsjellymunson @usedtobecooler @eddiesprincess86 @ali-r3n @choke-me-eddie @littlebebebunny @big-ope-vibes

[gunsatthaphan]

Hallo Freundin! 👋

I will share my random ramblings with the class this time around. 😇 So here we go!

Okay, I’m going to put this out here. About Between Us. For clarity: I watched the Uncut Version. (My bank account is very grateful that Between Us is finally over. 🥲) So I don’t know how much and what got cut. But anyways, here are my two cents. Do with what you want. 😌

I don’t think Between Us was bad. Not at all. But if I am very honest, it did disappoint a little bit. (Which tbh, seems almost impossible to avoid with the enthusiasm and anticipation I felt about it beforehand. 🙈) Maybe it’s the extensive number of plotlines, or the fact that the main plotline felt a bit dragged on in the end.

But I think there’s also another reason. (And correct me if you disagree.) To me, it felt as if the stories were told in the wrong order. Particularly, the WinTul story was started way too late. So that when they had their resolution, it seemed unrealistically quick to me. In contrast, for some reason the romance between Manow & Pruek remained a storyline for the entire series. And I am seriously still wondering what was so pressing that it remained a “problem” to solve for 12 episodes. 🫠 It was also the weakest storyline because Manow’s insecurities were never fully elaborated on. And so it seemed to me like the odd one out.

I thought Bee and Prince had a really strong storyline. And both that storyline and WinTul’s created a strong parallel to the main theme (me thinks) of Between Us itself. While it doesn’t have the theatrics of UWMA, it does serve strong motifs about “finding yourself,” “forgiveness,” “feeling inadequate,” and “getting to know someone else.” Plus, more importantly: letting someone get to know you.

While WinTeam put up the question: how well do you know someone when there’s just the physicality? WinTul sort of gets the reverse question: how well do you know someone when you don’t know what they look like? The overarching idea is that you don’t, unless you take the time. But at the same time, you do, better than you think. The story of Bee and Prince gave a whole new spin on this story by inserting the issue of status and celebrity into the mix. And the contrast between the private person and the public persona (bonus points for getting real about the pressures of being queer and a celebrity).

Tldr: I would have started with Bee and Prince, then put in Win and Tul, and end with Manow & Pruek. 🤓

Oops, I’ll quit the rambling! 😅 I just cannot stop talking about this show. 😍

Love,

— Thel. 💚

hi there Thel!!! 💜

thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts!!

Generally speaking Between Us was a phenomenon for me because it had so many tropes & aspects that I usually don't like such as the mains not getting together until the last second, an abundance of side couples, characters acting juvenile, repetitive scenes & lines, certain stories going in circles etc. but for some reason none of that bothered me too much here? 

Like we had 5 couples which is usually way too much and not all of them were 100% satisfactory but I think they did a really decent job with giving them an equal amount of both screentime and development. WaanTul had the perfect slowburn for me and I'm okay with how they wrapped it up but the ending was not appropriate for the overall pacing. It went at 30% speed for 11.5 episodes and then it went to 100% within seconds lmao. That could've been handled a bit better imo. But as I said I'm okay. Also I don't think it was told in the wrong order. To me the narrative made sense and felt coherent but maybe that's not what you meant lol.

Manaow and Pruk had a good story setup but it remained a setup and was not delved into as much as it should have so I agree with you there. I still liked them and their energy a lot though. to be honest they might be one of my favorite het pairings in a bl. I really really like them and I would 100% watch their show if they had one. 

Prince and Bee did not catch my attention at all in the beginning. I had no interest in their story as I was over the celebrity x mundane trope and also I'm not a fan of Benz. BUT that changed towards the middle of the show. When they actually got together and specifically their conversation in the bathroom was where I was like okay. I like this lol. They had a very nice conclusion and their chemistry became a lot better over time. I liked it. 

So overall all of these little stories had their little flaws but they did good. And I agree with what you said about the plots fitting into the overarching theme of the show which is getting to know each other, letting others in and offering a safe space to the people you love because that was indeed the common ground for all stories. And it’s also something that wabisabi generally does very well with their shows imo. Most of their productions are similar and they’re known for their cheesiness lmao but they do offer a very heartwarming portrayal of relationships and friendships, also the antagonist not being a person but your own inhibitions is something I really like and they did an excellent job with showcasing that in BU as well. Which makes it a flagship wabisabi show in that sense but in the best way possible imo. It’s exactly what I appreciated about UWMA too. 

I ended up giving it an 8.5/10 which, considering I went in in zero expectations, is almost like hitting the jackpot lmao. I’m very happy with how it turned out and I’m glad we can talk about it here lol. 

thank you again for sharing and have a lovely day! 💜 

xxx

[unknownwriting]

So uh 🙈 May I asked of Sabo and Ace (let's say Ace survives we know what is it coughs). Ace and Sabo reacting receiving a wedding invitation from Luffy? I think that will be funny and also meet Luffy's s/o? 🤣🤣🤣🙈🙈🙈

Summary - reacting to Luffy’s wedding invitation (platonic!!)

Characters - Portgas D. Ace, Sabo

Warnings - none :)

Luffy getting married!? And Ace surviving!? You just have me hooked 👀 also does this qualify as a Luffy x reader ?? I’m so confused

Portgas D. Ace

- Ace almost refuses to see Luffy other than his cry baby little brother, he just doesn’t want to think that Luffy is gonna be older one day

- that doesn’t mean he won’t admit Luffy strong and all that but, Luffy?? Marriage?? In the same sentence?? Almost impossible.

- a part of Ace wants to believe it’s like a joke or something, but Ace knows that Luffy doesn’t joke about stuff like this

- so putting on his Sunday best and head to be wedding, whole heartily believing it was almost a joke. But after seeing Luffy in a suit??? And the grand party, he learned it wasn’t a joke.

- at the party he buddies up with Sabo and kinda just stand there. Not bc they don’t know anything but their little brother is getting married?? They’re literally so confused

- when Ace meets you tho, things began to make a little more sense. You were the one who kinda force Luffy to have the wedding.

- it was almost like you just contradicted Luffy. You were just so different, it was so weird, but Ace did find it refreshing. It was easy to tell why y’all love each other

- you were a pirate but you always wanted a wedding, so when y’all and Luffy got engaged you forced him to have the wedding. Of course it was a very pirate-y wedding but it was the best y’all could do

- although Ace was very much caught of guard that his baby brother is actually getting married. He had fun at the wedding, got drunk, ate a bunch, cried a bit but Ace is always happy with welcome new people into his family

Sabo

- sabo is so unbelievably happy, he’s confused but super happy.

- like Ace, Sabo has to like read the invitations a few times too just to make sure what he was seeing and if he was even seeing it right.

- so although he was super confused he was super happy for you and Luffy. And he’s telling everyone too. Dragon, Koala, the newbies, practically random people on the street.

- Sabo is just so excited for you and Luffy. And plus he’s families growing too. And just like Ace Sabo loves that. The boys definitely take pride in family

- sabo has no trouble clearing his calendar. Even if he has like a meeting or something, he’ll drop it like it’s nothing. He’s gonna be there for the wedding.

- when he first gets there, he’ll awkwardly stand around with Ace. This is when he finally realizes what happening. Their younger brother is growing up. And getting married to

- Sabo definitely brings a lot of tears to the party. He just so happy that Luffy getting married, but he so said because Luffy is getting married. His baby brother is growing up to quickly

- both Sabo and Ace wouldn’t hesitate to share embarrassing and stupid stories about Luffy either. It’s Sabo’s own little way of coping

- now although sabo is practically a crying mess, he’s so happy for you and Luffy. He’s happy that even through everything that’s going on with y’all’s hectic life yalls still found ways to fall in love

[txemrn]

Book: Wake the Dead

Pairing: m!MC (Talan Archer) x Eli Sipes x Shannon Fox (it's the end of the world; I can throuple if I want)

Word count: 6100 (+/-)

Music Inspo: "Failure" - Breaking Benjamin

Warning: language; zOmBiEs; conspiracy theories of current events; very bad science; ⛔ may contain spoilers

AN: Last weekend was @wtdapreciationweek, and I wanted to do something fanfiction wise because I LOOOOVE this game so much... but of course, you know your girl is going to be late. 🙈 So, I came up with this cluster of a fic out of pure, self-indulgence. Please remember: this is all in good, silly fun; please do not take any of this seriously.

AN 2: To my amazing writing partner-in-crime @kat-tia801 : thanks for helping a sister out! The things I put you through... lol These characters and some plots belong to our friends at Pixelberry. 🖤

~💀~

The sweltering August sun beat mercilessly upon the war-torn earth, but luckily the overgrown path of evergreen forestation provides plenty of reprieve from the heat.  The faithful scouts from Olympus had been on a mission since before sunrise, but it was clear their energy levels were depleting quickly.

“How much longer, Tal?” Angel moans, adjusting her knapsack on her shoulders.

“For real,” chimes in Troy. "I wasn't planning on spending my entire day off, looking for–" he lowers his voice to sound spooky, wiggling his fingers, "--body parts."

Talan chuckles to himself, patting his lifelong friend on the shoulder. "We all know you were planning on reorganizing your cassette tapes and compact discs–"

"--again?" Angel jovially interrupts with a giggle, making the three of them tickle with laughter.

Talan looks up ahead on the trail, spotting Eli hard at work, combing through the grove. And he can't help but smile at the image. "C'mon, you two," Talan calls out from over his shoulder, marching on with more spirit in his step. "Just a little bit longer, then we'll call it quits. We need to at least try to find these specimens for Shan; she never asks for any help with her research."

"Yeah," a pained expression grows across Angel's face, "she's usually chasing me out of the laboratory area."

"Well, you are quite the bull in a China shop," Troy playfully punches her arm.

"A what in a what?"

"Don't pay attention to him," Talan titters, walking ahead of them to urge them forward. "He forgets how to talk like a normal human being–"

"Hey," Troy straightens out his collar, "at one point, that was cool lingo–"

"I'm sure shopping for a bull in China was very cool,” Angel finger-guns at her good friend.

Troy groans, shaking his head,  He then speeds up his pace, catching up with a determined Talan. “So, Shannon needs a drone’s arm or leg,” Troy pauses, contemplating his words, “and then preferably a non-drone’s arm or leg?”

“Yep. You got it–”

“But the living become the walking dead when they die… How are we suppose to track down an appendage that hasn't turned into–?”

“I don't know,” Talan holds up his hand, silencing Troy before he can state the obvious. “She said she could use us, but–" he gnashes his teeth in disgust, "she needs to cut into the flesh."

"Cool," Angel songsongs under her breath while Troy turns up his nose.

"I know it sounds like an impossible mission, but after her nightmare of a discovery last week, she believes she needs to restart her entire approach in studying these drones,” he sighs, mumbling under his breath, “which I think is ridiculous.”

"Have you tried talking some sense into her?" Troy suggests.

"She's not exactly the most rational person these days," Talan guffaws. "Besides, I’m trying to be supportive."

“Whipped, Talan,” Troy chuckles. “The correct term is whipped–”

“Wait,” Angel catches up with the two men. “Discovery? Restarting her research? Sledge and I were gone for two nights! What the hell did I miss?” Troy and Talan glance at each other, giving a knowing nod.

“C’mon, firecracker,” Troy wraps a friendly arm around Angel. “Let’s catch you up.”

It's been almost twenty-two years since the apocalyptic chaos raged like a wildfire across the world, turning every man against his brother, every woman against her sister, and the unthinkable, the living against the dead. The old world order passed away; and individual people groups established their own governments, their own rules, their own way of life. 

But still, there was one name that struck reverence and fear of colonies far and wide: Marcus Blackstock.

Blackstock was a well-renowned leader, revered for his ability to pull people together in the midst of the crisis. As a former lieutenant of the US marines, he demonstrated his resourcefulness and excellent sound judgment. Many quickly saw him as the figurehead in the midst of this war on mankind.

But the old general put into action his own plan: survival of the fittest. He wanted to create a new era of humanity, a new race made up of survivors with the most potential, the elite. He created his own colony, the Tower, and only allowed the fittest and the smartest to take shelter there.

The massive, impenetrable compound provided food, protection, and an incredible arsenal of weaponry and training.  Education was made available for children along with vocational options to contribute back into the Tower.

But it came at a price, a cost that in and of itself is forbidden to be mentioned.

Knowledge.

Blackstock preached that in order for history not to repeat itself, it must be destroyed. History books, newspapers, even reels of media footage were destroyed at the hands of the people of the Tower. People are still forbidden to this day to discuss anything of the old world; the new world under Blackstock’s reign is all that mattered.

“What a bag of dicks,” Angel barks. “I’m glad I never had a chance to meet that asshole–”

“He’s the one that put a hit out for Talan’s life back at the Tower, all because he disagreed with an officer–”

“Holy shit–” Angel cups her mouth in shock. "I'm so glad you guys escaped when you did. But, wait," she furrows her brows, "how does this relate to Shannon?”

“Well," Troy clears his throat, "I was checking on Shannon last week, and I mentioned to her how hard it must be doing research when she only has the second half of history in her science and medical books.”

“Oh no…”

“Oh yes,” Troy combs his fingers through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck. “I meant it as a compliment for being so dedicated, but she didn't have a clue what I was talking about." He lets out a remorseful sigh.  "So, I told her about Blackstock’s orders. And that’s when she discovered all of her books were either altered by the Tower’s publishers or it was a brand new manual, printed by King Blackstock himself–”

“Which means he's completely fucked up her research,” Angel scoffs, shaking her head.

"Exactly," Talan nods. "She was rescued by the lab when she was four, and even though the lab was controlled by the Tower, everything had already been destroyed–"

"--and no one could talk to her about the past," Angel adds.

"Right," both men agree in unison. 

“Damnit," Angel exhales heavily. "She works so fucking hard and gets so down on herself when things don’t work…”

“And another thought,” Talan interrupts, fixing his thumbs under his utility vest as they continue to mosey down the path. "Blackstock was so adamant to them about finding the cure. If he really was looking for an antidote, why not give scientists everything they need? So much was discovered prior to this way of life… unless–"

"Is he hiding something?" Angel suggests.

"About the drones?" Troy snickers into a smirk. "But why?" 

All of a sudden, a grungy snarl echoes from the deep thick of the woods. Snapping jaws and staggering feet grow increasingly louder as a large herd of decaying drones make their way closer to the group.

"Shit!" Angel hisses under her breath, ducking underneath the weeds and leaves along with Talan. Looking up, she notices Troy chewing loudly on some unknown berries.  She grabs him unexpectedly, pulling him down with her before reaching for her flamethrower. 

“What the hell, Ang–?”

“Shhh!” She cups her hand over his mouth, pointing through branches. "Look. Drones."

Troy’s eyes widen in shock, “There must be over thirty of them–”

“--And they just keep growing in numbers,” Angel stares in wonder.

 "Well, what are we waiting for?" A mischievous grin grows across Troy’s face. "Let's remind these freaks that they're not welcomed here."

“Whoa, hold on there, partner,” Talan grips onto his good friend’s shoulder. “You two be ready with your weapons, but stay low,” he delegates. “I’m gonna go grab Eli. We really need to get out of here without luring the whole clan to our front door.”  

Staying low, Talan runs up ahead to catch up quietly with Eli. Hearing his footsteps, Eli turns and greets him with a crooked smile. "Hey, you–"

Talan puts a finger over his lips. "I'm afraid, we've got company back here."

"Shit," Eli pulls out his crossbow, concern growing across his face. "Is everyone okay?" He whispers.

"For now." With the flash of Talan's smile, the two men take off down the dirt road, catching up to the others. They each take cover behind tree trunks and ivy snags as they watch the cluster of rotting corpses gather in numbers, bumping carelessly into one another.

"More and more keep coming out of the woodwork," states Angel.

"And then they just stay," Troy adds.

"Weird," Eli sighs, gently tugging onto Talan's elbow. "It might be a good idea to get out of here while they're not fighting over our remnants."

"But what about a drone body part for Shan?" Angel innocently asks.

"That's just gonna have to wait. Look at them now," Troy swallows thickly, pointing to the field littered with the haggard dead. "The drones just keep coming. We can't possibly fight that many at once. Not with the four of us." 

"I think that's a good call," Talan nods as he surveys the hoard. "Quick. Let's get out of–"

Talan abruptly chokes on his words as he nearly collides with a zombie, putrid sludge spilling from it's mouth. But as Talan reaches for his machete, the drone simply redirects itself and stumbles towards the herd of the dead. 

Talan turns to Eli who's already shrugging his shoulders. All at once, the scouts take off running, back down the overgrown path to which they came. 

But suddenly, Angel wails in terror. As a drone surprises her on the road, it's mangled fingers tangling into her neon green waves.

"Let go of me, you gremlin chode!" 

Talan instantly reacts with his large knife, first cutting his friend free by slicing through the tissue and marrow of the creature. But, as he goes to stab the drone in the head, it passively treks away from them, not putting up an effort to fight.

Another loud gurgle grabs their attention: two drones lurch down the dirt path, and yet still, they don't lunge for the living.

With their weapons still drawn, the men form a protective circle around Angel. They curiously look at the monsters before giving each other questioning glances. 

Angel finally untangles her hair from the decomposing arm, ripping several rotten fingernails off completely. Standing up, she lets out a large snort. "Hey! I got an arm for Shan!"

Eli quickly glares at the young woman, bringing his finger to his mouth to hush her. And yet, the noise she made doesn't make even a single drone steer off course. "What the fuck..?" He whispers.

"This is fucking weird,” Troy remarks, turning his attention to his lifelong friend. “Talan, what do you think?"

"Yeah, I don't know, guys. But I don't like it. Let's get home–"

"Wait!" Angel grabs Talan's machete out of his hands, offering him a maniacal smile.  "How many arms should we collect?" 

"Seriously?"

"What? They aren't fighting back. We need appendages. It's a win-win." Before the guys could say otherwise, Angel sneaks up on several wayward, unsuspecting zombies. With several brisk swings, she cuts off with ease four more decaying arms, thick ichor pouring onto the road.

As she collects the body parts, Troy pats Angel on the back. "Remind me to never to piss you off." After a good laugh, they all four begin cautiously jogging towards Olympus.

------

Quickly removing a glass slide from her microscope, Shannon glances at the front door to her lab, a pang of worry in her heart. Where are they? Bracing her back, she tenses up the muscles in her body, giving them a tight stretch as she yawns. Resting her head in her hand, she surveys her research thus far, hoping that her friends were able to collect the necessary specimens so she can continue.

As the hum of silence hypnotizes her, Shannon's fatigue from a long day of studying overcomes her, and she begins to nod off into sleep– that is, until the door slams open, her friends busting through with victorious smiles.

"There's my girl," Talan bounds towards Shannon. Wrapping an arm around her, he gently places a finger under her chin, his lips capturing hers in a fervent kiss. "Miss me?" 

Shannon pushes her mouth into his, savoring his touch. "Always," she scrunches up her nose as Talan pushes her raven locks out of her face. "I hate being away from you for so long. I wish I could come too–"

Talan shakes his head adamantly, dropping his hand down to cradle Shannon's growing belly. "Not like this, you're not." Talan embraces her tightly, kissing her forehead.

"I hope I'm not missing anything too important over here," Eli playfully interjects from behind, Talan allowing him to slip his strong arms around Shannon's shoulders.  Eli brushes his supple lips against her ear eliciting a sweet, content moan from her mouth.

"I'm so glad you guys are back," she whispers tenderly, nuzzling her head into the sweet flutters of Eli's tongue against her neck. "I always get so worried–"

"Hey–" Talan interjects, tracing the edges of her glowing cheeks with the back of his hand. "You know you have nothing to worry about–" Shannon nods against his touch, kissing sweetly against his knuckles. "--especially with this guy by my side."  Talan cups Eli's scarred face, his fingers intimately traveling up his temple to tease his mohawk affectionately.

"Okay, you love birds," Angel breaks up the moment, "did you tell Shannon the good news?"

"Oh yeah!" Excitement spills across Talan's handsome features, nodding to his friends. "We have some surprises for you, babe!"

"We brought gifts!" Troy pats his overly-stuffed bag. 

Bracing her rounded tummy, Eli helps the mom-to-be back onto her lab stool. As a group, they presented the four zombie arms to Shannon, making her squeal for joy as they pulled out each one dramatically. They were also able to find a black light that Troy plans on fixing up for the lab, several sets of tools to keep on hand as extra in the lab, and then finally, old bound newspapers to stock for heating elements for future experiments.

"This is wonderful!" Shannon grins kindly to each of her friends, "thanks, guys!"

"And that's not all!" An impish smile grows across Troy's face as the others exchange curious glances at each other. He pulls out a weathered plastic bag, the contents  rustling against each other. He retrieves a clear package with two tubular yellow items inside. "Talan may have mentioned you've been having a bit of a sweet tooth in the middle of the night, so behold!" 

He tosses the item to Shannon. She instantly starts inspecting it in her hands. "Thank you so much, Troy, but–" she shakes the package, then sniffs it while raising an eyebrow, "--what is it?"

"Seriously?" Troy glances around the room, noticing the lost look in everyone's eyes. "They're Twinkies!" Talan and Angel pretend to know what he's talking about while Eli curtly shakes his head.

"It sounds, um, really cute," Shannon tries to stay positive, but clearly is clueless.

"Give me that," he playfully snatches the package out of her hands. “It's a sponge cake–"

"A sponge?" Angel questions.

"Yeah, you know. It looks and feels like a sponge, but it's a cake. And the best part?" Troy busts open the package, pinching off the end of the yellow snack. "It has a cream-filled center."

"Whoa," the group singsongs together in amazement.

"But, isn't cake made from stuff that can expire?" Shannon cautiously asks, sniffing the confection.

"Ah," Troy holds up a finger, "that's the next best part. As the story goes, Twinkies never expire. Shit, before the zombie apocalypse, people claimed that these things could actually survive the zombie apocalypse. And boom! Here we are."

"So, is it safe to try?" Talan looks to Troy, but before he can answer, they are distracted by a subtle chewing sound.

"It tastes immaculate to me," Shannon's cognac eyes sparkle, rolling back in satisfaction.

Troy snickers. “And as for dinner,”  He juggles out several more cans. “Spaghettios on me!”

The five friends head out to the dining area, meeting up with the other members of Olympus.  Together, they share with the other colonists about their adventurous days off before everyone returns back to work like normal in the morning. The pleasant conversations continue well into the evening as many members retreat to the cool night air, sitting outside around a large campfire.

“Babe.” Relaxed in a sleeping Talan’s arms, Eli waves down Shannon who’s just now joining the group. He pats the seat next to him, hungry to hold her.

She moseys up behind him, running her fingers through his hair before kissing his inviting lips.  

“Come here, beautiful,” he whispers, lacing his fingers with hers.

She giggles at his invitation, biting her bottom lip. “I want to, really I do. But I need to get the lab set up for tomorrow–”

He pulls her down, closer to his head, capturing her mouth in a more passionate kiss. “Can’t that wait until tomorrow?”

Shannon begins to pout, feeling torn on what to do.  “Eli, I really need to get those specimens set before they start to deteriorate.”  She sweetly kisses the tip of his nose.  “I promise I’ll hurry.”

Giving him one last kiss, Shannon scurries down a well-lit path to her laboratory, but as she enters the main research area, the room glows a brilliant hue of purple, causing other colors to pop in bright neon..

“Hello?”  Shannon calls out cautiously. 

“Shannon! Hey, it’s me!” Troy comes around the corner of a shelving unit, holding onto a violet light bulb. “I hope you don’t mind. I didn’t know how much time I’d have tomorrow to set up this black light, so I thought I’d fix it up tonight.”

“This is so cool,” Shannon touches the colorful light. “I’ve only read about these in books.”

“I figured you could use it for something,” Troy shrugs, offering a confident grin.

“It will definitely come in handy inoculating different microbes. Some actually glow under these lights.”  Shannon walks over to the drone arms, some of them still twitching with life.  “Say, Troy? Do you mind giving me a hand with these?”

Clearing off her research station and cleaning with sanitation chemicals, the two friends secure the arms with clamps before covering them with preservation tarp.  As he tidies up the center, Troy starts playing with the black light again, the decaying arms turning into strange hues of purple and green.

“Dude, look at these colors!” Troy chuckles in amazement

“Don’t you be messing up my specimens!” Shannon jokes as she moves her fresh new stack of fire-building newspaper under a counter. As she goes to close the cabinet door, something catches her attention.

2019.

“Um, Troy?”

“Okay, fine, sorry.” He quickly turns off the light, gently setting it down.

“No, no,” she shakes her head, lifting the ream of old newspapers onto her research desk.  “When did you say Blackstock destroyed all the history data?”

“Um,” he closes one eye, counting on his fingers, “it was the first Solstice after the outbreak. So, 2021?”

“Come here and look at this.” Shannon anxiously opens up the newspaper, flailing it out to read. “Look at the date.”

“December 12, 2019.” His eyes widen in suspense. “Holy shit–”

“Can you go get the guys?”

Within minutes, Troy had rounded up Talan, Troy and Angel, urgently leading them to the laboratory. Shannon showed them the dates on the newspapers they had found, and began reading the breaking news.  The first article was about a patients in the Hubei Providence of China, showing signs and symptoms of respiratory distress.  

Thumbing through the papers, Shannon stops on December 31, 2019, where the article discusses that the Chinese office of the World Health Organization was made aware of multiple cases of pneumonia with unknown cause.

Talan and Eli both grab a few papers, helping to speed up the research process.

“Listen:” Talan commands the room, “Chinese authorities identify and isolate a novel coronavirus as the causative agent of the outbreak—”

“Coronavirus?” Shannon looks over his shoulder, writing down the information.

“And look here,” Eli pointes to the headline on his paper, showing it to the group. “The CDC confirms the first US laboratory-confirmed case of COVID-19–”

“COVID-19?” Angel chimes in. “I thought they called it something else.”

Shannon looks back over her notes.  “It–it must be an abbreviation. Coronavirus; COVID… um, maybe Coronovirus disease?” She presses her fingers into her temple, her speech becoming more rapid, more nervous. “And–and this happened in 2019, so maybe, I don’t know, the year? I’m–I’m not sure.”

Talan quickly drops the newspapers, wrapping his arms around Shannon, pressing her head to his chest. “Shhh, it’s okay, Shan–”

“I–I just don’t understand,” she stutters. “Is this what this is? Is that what all of this is?”

“Shannon–”

“I’m–I’m pissed!” She yells, causing her friends to stop in their tracks. “Did any of you guys know that there was this outbreak prior to the invasion of the drones?”  She glances around the room, everyone shaking their head. “That Blackstock had us wasting our time, looking for a parasite when he knew–he knew all along it was a virus. It’s bullshit.”

“Alright, alright,” Talan squeezes her tightly to his body, gently kissing her forehead. “This is a lot to take in, I know.  But I think we need to be thinking more clearly before we dive into this.” Keeping an arm around Shannon’s shoulders, he leads the group out of the laboratory and into the sleeping quarters of Olympus.  Within minutes of her head hitting the pillow, Shannon passed out from exhaustion.

Bright and early the next morning, Shannon began her research on the drone appendages to answer the ultimate question: where did they come from?  She collected countless vials of dark viscous blood and tissue specimens. She performed several tests while cross-referencing the newspaper articles the scouts had discovered the previous day.

One by one, however, each test contradicted everything she had been brought up to believe, working for the Tower.  Overwhelmed by possible new truths about the new world, she called her partners Talan and Eli, along with her best friends Troy and Angel.

As they gathered at the laboratory, everyone could feel the uneasiness, pouring out of Shannon’s every pore as she mounts pictures and graphs to a make-shift cork board presentation. Chewing on her mouth, she begins ringing her hands before turning to face her comrades. 

“So, um,” she titters awkwardly. “This is still just a theory. And–and I know, I know, this is going to sound crazy,” the corner of her mouth begins to curl. “But, I think I have proof, so just–” she holds her hands up, encouraging everyone to give her a chance and listen. “--Just stick with me.”

She taps on the board at her first piece of paper with notes.  “So, as expected, these drones are very much infected with the DNA of something, a virus–” she raises an eyebrow, “a really strange virus–Oh!”  Her eyes widen, meeting Talan’s. “I hope the community doesn’t mind, but I turned on my high-power microscope to map it out, so the back up solar panels kinda need a day to recharge.” She innocently smiles.

“That’s fine, babe–” reassures Talan, snickering to himself at how nervous she is. “So tell us more. Why is the virus so strange?”

“Well,” she takes a deep breath, “it’s completely synthetic.”

Talan, Troy, Eli and Angel exchange looks, shrugging their shoulders. “Meaning…?” Angel wiggles her fingers, encouraging Shannon to keep explaining.

“Meaning it’s man-made. This would never spontaneously occur in nature. It was created in a lab at some point–”

“Why would someone create a fake virus?” Angel questions.

“There’s only a few viruses that have had their genetic make-up prosthetically reproduced so that scientists can study them, so that we can prepare for things like outbreaks and bioterrorism.”

“So, you’re saying this outbreak that happened before the ending of the old world, this coronavirus or whatever: it was made in a lab and got into the wrong hands?” Talan crosses his arms, trying to understand.

Shannon shrugs. “That’s possible, but I don’t have anything to test or prove that. The man-made virus I found in these drones doesn’t match the COVID-19 make-up, however–” she eagerly taps on the board, “--get this: the virus does perfectly match the antibodies that make up the mapped DNA.”

“Whoa… English please?” Angel slides to the edge of her seat listening with intrigue.

Shannon chuckles. “Imagine a key and a lock.  Only one pattern of the key can go into that lock for the whole mechanism to work, for the lock to open, right?” Everyone nods, following along with her analogy. “That’s how immunity works: it takes a piece of the viral DNA, makes a copy so that when the body is under attack again, we have a key that is ready.”

“But I thought you said this was synthetic–” Eli speaks up.

“Exactly,” Shannon points to him excitedly as she continues. “Sometimes with deadly diseases, we can’t risk people developing natural immunity by allowing the masses to contract the sickness–”

“--Because it would kill people in the process of developing immunity,” Troy answers.

“Precisely,” Shannon gleefully nods. “But if we can develop a copy of that key that can gently teach your body cells the special code to unlock the immunity for your body…”

“Whoa,” Angel blinks her eyes in disbelief. “How do you do that?” 

“Vaccines.”  As everyone’s jaw drops, Shannon rapidly unfolds a newspaper clip, discussing the sudden push for the development of the COVID-19 vaccine from synthetic genomes.  “Everyone was coaxed into getting these vaccines even though minimal testing had been done on them at the time.”

“And I guess people were actually getting the shot?” Talan asks.

“Yes,” Shannon groes gravely serious.  “If you can strike fear in people, you can get them to do whatever you want.  It was broadcasted worldwide at how deadly the virus was. Citizens were forced into quarantine, unable to go anywhere for months  The ticket to a normal life again? Taking the vaccine.”

“Holy shit–” Angel anxiously rubs her forehead.

“So, my theory is that whatever they injected into people is what led to the uprising of these drones,” Shannon announces proudly. “But I predict that the zombification doesn’t complete until the infected person is dead–”

“Wait a minute. What about the drone attacks?” Troy leans his chair back, patting Eli on the shoulder.  “Drone bites create more drones, I thought.”

“That’s what we’ve been taught. But, have we really ever seen that happen? Someone turn into a drone before our eyes?” Shannon crosses her arms. “No, because they’re usually dead first either by the actual attack, or–what’s rule number three?”

“If someone gets bit, they get put down. No hesitation,” Talan sorrowfully quotes from memory, thinking about his sister.

“This has been drilled into our heads since as long as I can remember, and that is what we’ve always practiced–”

“But what about Eli? What about the Raiders and the antidote–?” Talan suggests.

“I thought the same thing. Come here, and watch.” Shannon twirls on the ball of her foot, heading towards two set up microscopes: one with a tissue sample from the drone’s arms and the other one with the synthetic virus exposed.  She pulls out a vial of epinephrine, showing it to her friends.  “This is the supposed ‘antidote’ to this disease; it’s what we gave Eli.  Epinephrine is essentially adrenaline, a hormone that stimulates your body’s nervous system to ‘fight or flight’. Now, watch.” She squirts the fluid from the vial onto the two slides.

Nothing happens.

“But Eli became, like, super-human, strangling me–”

“--as a result of using epinephrine. Not because he was turning.”

“Holy fuck, you guys–” Troy’s mouth falls open in shock.  

Eli rubs the back of his neck, clearly trying to make sense of the fact that everything they have been taught about the zombie ‘parasite’ was a lie.

“But why?” Talan asks.

Shannon shrugs.  “Was this meant to serve as a weapon to another country? I don’t know. Apparently the US was severely divided during that year from the electing of new officials. Maybe it was some ploy to bring the country together.”

“But the population of drones is increasing,” Talan mentions, walking up towards Shannon, “does that mean somewhere, someone out there is purposely infecting people?”

Shannon sighs as she scribbles down a few notes. She finally pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration, “So much is still unknown–"

"But look at how far you've come in just one day, babe," Talan drapes an arm over Shannon's slumped shoulders before resting his hand on her belly. "Let's get you two some lunch. You'll feel better afterwards."

Nodding in agreement, the group begins to tidy up the laboratory, preparing to lock up and head to lunch when Tony interrupts Shannon.  “Hey, Shan, would you mind if I showed Angel the black light?”

“Be my guest,” she smiles sweetly.

Troy turns off the lights of the room, waving the purple bulb around the room, pointing out the various neon colors.  He finally directs everyone’s attention over to the drone arms to point out the weird conglomeration of colors in the decaying tissue.

“This is so cool,” Angel looks around with amazement. “But I guess there’s not exactly much use for these lights nowadays–”

“Whoa!” Shannon suddenly shouts.  “Flash the light over those body parts again.” She rushes to look closer at the decomposing flesh, quickly donning protective gloves and tissue forceps.

“Babe?” Talan draws closer to her, becoming more concerned. “What is it?”

She shakes her head as she uncovers the plastic draping. “Bring that light closer, would’ya?” On further inspection, Shannon notices a bright white piece of microscopic debris hanging just inside the deep tissue of an arm.  She carefully extracts the piece with her forceps before moving onto the next arm. “Light please?” She begins poking and prodding on the next arm, but before long she finds another hard, bright white piece.

“What are they?” Angel clears her throat.

“I–”  Shannon begins to mount the pieces on a slide for her microscope to get a closer look. “I don’t know.”  As she zooms in, a collection of numbers sticks out. “CORP MP US 22/6598; what on earth is that?”

Troy perks up. “Did you say, ‘CORP MP US’? That’s code for governmental property.” He takes a look at the particle under the magnifying instrument. “Something that small, and from the government? It’s gotta be something like–like a tracking device.”

“Tracking device?” Shannon wonders out loud. "But why?" She scoffs, "how?" She shakes her head, writing out a few a thoughts on a notepad.

"Hey, I thought we were doing lunch," Troy jests as he mindlessly waves the light over the various patches of his leather jacket, neon colors illuminating before his eyes.

Deep in thought, Shannon looks up from her journaling, and watches him play.

Until it hits her.

“Oh my God!” Shannon takes the light away from her friend "Troy, you're a genius!" 

"Thanks!” He chuckles, but suddenly becomes confused. “Wait, I– I am?" 

She snickers with a nod. “I've got an idea. I need all of you to take off your jackets and expose your arms."

"What?" A blush creeps up Troy’s neck, knowing he may have to take off his shirt.. 

"Don't be such a prude," Angel sasses, slipping her hand under the collar of his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders.

"Traditionally,” Shannon talks over Troy, “vaccines are given in the large deltoid muscle of the arm, exactly where we found these white pieces–"

Talan perks up, "--so maybe when they were giving that man-made shot, they were implanting trackers…" Talan theorizes out loud.

"Yeah," Shannon's face grows long, "because someone was experimenting on humans and needed to keep track." A cold chill courses down everyone's spine. The sound of Shannon's words spins the room hauntingly still. 

Shannon inspects her arms first, waving the bulb slowly over her skin with no avail of anything glowing bright white. Both Talan and Troy are the same way: nothing glows from the arms.

Sigh heavily, Eli rolls up his sleeve. "I think you’re wasting your time, Shan–"

"Oh my God!" The young scientist gasps. "Guys, come here. Now." As she presses deeply into his shoulder muscle, thinning out the tissue with her thumb, a tiny flicker of white beams with the flash of the black light.

"No fucking way…" The friends stand in awe of the discovery.

Shannon does the same thing to Angel, and sure enough, her arm glows as well.

"But–but that doesn't mean it's a tracking device… does it?" Angel nervously inquires.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Eli turns to Shan. “Wanna remove it?”

A look of pure joy gleams in Shannon’s eyes. She quickly gathers her supplies to remove the white fragment from Eli’s arm, hoping it matches the one she found in the drones’ arms.  As she begins to numb the area with a local anesthetic, Talan interrupts.

“Oh, shit, Shan! I forgot to tell you.” He begins to share with her about the unusual behavior of the zombies the previous day when scavenging for the appendages. “They–they just wouldn’t fight us. It was like they were in a trance–”

“--or being controlled?” Troy suggests as he watches Shannon intently.

“But–but who?” Shannon grabs her forceps, gently slipping out an identical white piece of debris from Eli’s upper arm.  “And why?”

------

North of the Woods…

Another ear-piercing emergency siren blares throughout the leadership suite; bright, red lights beckon for his attention as they refract off the cigar smoke particles that consume the space.  He slams back his finger of scotch before he angrily calls for his head guard.

“Sir?”  A gentleman in black armor stands en guard to his leader, his hand raised to his brow in respect.

“The fuck is going on out there?” The salt-and-pepper haired jumps from his desk, hissing at his commander. “We built the alarm for the trackers as a security measure, but they are supposed to be fool proof–remember?” He rolls up a stack of papers, slapping the soldier multiple times in the shoulder. “Fucking fool proof!  If this information gets out to the American people that they were the only ones in the world affected, the only ones quarantined, the only ones targeted by this virus…” He nervously runs his fingers through his thick hair, “Or worse, if they find out this was a massive plan to annihilate the US from history for our international clients–”

“Sir,” the guard interrupts, “calm down. Have you accessed the video surveillance?”

The older man stops in his tracks, an evil grin crawling across his face. “Of course,” he begins to snicker.  He hits a secret button under his desk, instantly changing his computer screen to the activated surveillance cameras connected with the tracking devices.

Instantly five faces appear, surrounding the concave lens. “Isn’t this that girl that used to work in the old sector 2B in the lab? I thought they all died.”  He hits a button to unmute the video feed.

“I wonder if the ones they vaccinated with this synthetic drug were forced to find shelter elsewhere because at least they could track them while the unvaccinated were granted entrance to the Tower,” Shannon’s voice rings out across the speakers.

“Fuck!” The leader takes out his anger, swiping the contents of his desk onto the floor. “How? I need to know who’s working with her and how she knows the truth.  In the meantime, get the commander of our international clients.  They may need to finish their job early with this new development.”

“Right away, sir.”

After a few minutes of pacing, the head guard returns to the leadership office.  “He’s on the phone.”

The older man grabs the phone. “Hello?”

“General Blackstock, I am surprised to be hearing from you,” the pleasant voice grows gruff, “especially so late at night.”

“My apologies, King Liam. But, we have a problem.”

~💀~

PERMA

@alexabeta @ao719 @charlotteg234 @differenttyphoonwerewolf @foreverethereal123 @issabees @jerzwriter @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @schnitzelbutterfingers @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

[roseofbattles]

Tagged by @lantur ❤️

How many works do you have on ao3? 25 presently, almost all from this year whoops quarantine really got to me

What's your total ao3 word count? 87,758 which is lower than I expected but also I don't write long things

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

still breathing - inexplicably to me, I don't love this one

for better or worse

a necessary distraction

in that dream there's no darkness - this was a rewrite of something old

this loneliness won't last - again, not a favorite of mine

Do you reply to comments? Why or why not? I try, it's very sweet that people take the time to leave them

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Lol all of them honestly. Uh and you know damn well/for you I would ruin myself might take the cake though

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? I don't really write what I would consider happy endings but the water's warm and children swim is generally warm and sunny all around

Do you write crossovers? No and I don't read them either

Have you ever recieved hate on a fic? Years ago on ff.net

Do you ever write smut? If so what kind? Uh not so far. This is as close as it gets.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge

Have you ever had a fic translated? Again not to my knowledge

Have you ever co-written a fic? No but it could be fun?

What's your all time favorite ship? Roy and Riza 🙈 this will surprise no one. Kanan and Hera might be a close second though I haven't written fic for them... Yet

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I recycle a lot of rejected material so most of it will probably be finished in some form or another. For me, at least, writing fic again has been an exercise in learning when to say I'm ready to be done working on this even though it's not perfect and moving on

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue? I'd like to think that my prose is nice and that I convey emotion well also

What are your writing weaknesses? Plot for sure, it's part of why I don't write long things. I'm not an outliner and my writing is often very disorganized until the very end

What are your thoughts about writing dialogue in a different language in a fic? No thoughts

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Tamora Pierce back in 2008 yikes followed almost immediately by fma and here we are 13 years later thank you Covid 😬

What's your favorite fic you've written? That's really an impossible question but like you're holding your breath is a favorite even though it's a hot mess

Gonna tag @nightofnyx8 @firewoodfigs @megthemighty @vadeofspades also was going to tag @fullmetalscullyy but she literally just posted hers ;)

[its-me-jessi]

Love Finds Its Way PT7

Pairing: Ivar X Reader

Summary: With the passage of time Y/N slowly opens up and at some point, her feelings for Ivar gain the upper hand and she can’t maintain her cover any longer.

A/N: Writing and finally posting this part took me far too long.🙈 I’m sorry for letting you wait that long, and I hope you’ll still be sympathetic about me taking a bit longer, since I’m very busy with uni work lately. Anyway, I hope you’ll enjoy this part.😇🧡

Part 8

Completely aghast at my statement, he fell speechless and looked at me for a while. The task we were supposed to be doing was secondary at the moment. The only reason why I was about to continue picking berries was that it helped me withdraw and escape from the situation, at least physically. Mentally I was still involved in the conversation. So, I didn't concentrate on the picking at all, but outwardly I acted like a robot. Too bad I wasn't really a robot, and I couldn't just shield myself from external factors. I could care less, but the truth was I couldn’t and he knew it. Ivar wasn't that easy to get rid of, especially this time. It took him a while to let things sink in, but that didn't mean he was going to give up. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me relatively roughly into a standing position and closer to him. His anger was not only reflected in his actions, but also in his eyes. He looked down at me while holding my wrist and our bodies touched. Immediately a heat wave shot through my body and my heart beat like crazy. Not only because it all happened so sudden but also because I was closer to him than I have been in a long time. It beat and beat, and he felt it. My heartbeat gave me away. "I don't believe you!", he said and looked deep into my eyes, "You are by no means over us!". Caught. "I'm still triggering something in you!", he tilted his head, "isn't that so?". I looked at his approaching lips as he watched me closely. Before our lips met, however, he pulled back and went back to his task as if nothing had happened. I, on the other hand, paused in my position and stared at him. Obviously, he had received or found out what he wanted to and was satisfied for the time being.

With the evening came the joy. Finally, all of us were able to appease their hunger and we were lucky that we had just enough rum left. I mean, I was more than fine with water, too, but the men needed alcohol. In addition, the alcohol warmed up from the inside, which was very helpful at these cold temperatures. That was the only reason why I let myself be carried away by a mug of rum. With the consumption of alcohol came the serenity and the feeling of shame no longer existed. Some men began to sing out loud, whether they could sing or not. The sea shanties they sang brought back memories of my childhood. I used to sing some of these songs with my father. Singing the songs therefore is the dearest thing I have associated with seafaring. Other men didn't even notice. They had already made themselves comfortable in the sand and were sound asleep. I just sat there and listened to the singing to relax, at least as much as I could. Ivar's presence brought up so many problems that relaxation was almost impossible to even think of, and I often caught myself looking over at him and watching him eat and drink.

At the same time someone was watching me. Hvitserk stood behind me with a mug of rum in his hand. As he drank, he watched me watch someone else. With every second that passed, his curiosity grew and with every sip he took of his rum, he grew bolder. Finally, he had drunk enough and approached me. He wanted to find out what was going on between Ivar and me by confronting me. Jealousy was probably also one of his motivations.

When Hvitserk patted me on my right shoulder blade, tearing me out of my trance, I was shocked and needed a few seconds to understand what exactly he wanted from me. Absolutely unaware of what had prompted Hvitserk to wish for a private conversation, I slowly got up and followed him.

When we were far enough away from the others and after he made sure that no one could overhear our conversation, he stopped and turned to me. "Now tell me, there is something between you and the new guy!", he blurted things out. I blinked nervously. "No, why would you think that?", I lied and questioned his statement. If I had agreed with him, sooner or later he would have found out about Ivar’s and my past, so I thought it would be better if he knew as less as possible. What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve over. "I'm not blind," he said simply, looking at me intently, waiting for me to revise my answer. “I know, but still, there's nothing going on between him and me!”, I tried to talk myself out of it, what could have been way more credible if Ivar of all people hadn't followed us. That really substantiated Hvitserk's suspicions. "What's going on here?", Ivar interrupted the conversation. I knew he just came to make sure everything’s fine, but at that moment it was rather counterproductive.

“I don’t think this is any of your business!”, Hvitserk snapped at him. He planted himself threateningly in front of Ivar, not only because he knew he was right but also because he could, after all, he was the captain's son. "I think it is!", Ivar didn’t back off. He looked over at me and asked me directly: „Is everything okay?". I nodded. "There you have it and now get lost!", Hvitserk hissed.

Of necessity Ivar finally gave up and went back. When there was enough distance between him, Hvitserk and me, Hvitserk continued our conversation: "He knows who you really are, doesn't he?". There was no point in denying that, Ivar's behavior gave away everything. "Did you tell him?", Hvitserk asked me further. "No, I don't know, he somehow noticed.", I lied. Hvitserk thought about my answer for a moment before continuing the conversation. "And do you think he will hold his tongue?", he asked, "because, if not, there will be consequences, especially for you!". I nodded. "I think he won’t say anything", I assured him. Ivar would never deliberately betray me, I knew that. Hvitserk, however, did not trust him, not least because he suspected that there was something else, he didn't know about. "I'll keep an eye on him!", he assured me. He, too, just wanted to help, but that too was very counterproductive.

I couldn’t sleep a wink during that night. Every single thought floating around in my head prevented me from falling asleep. The men on the other hand slept like a log. They were still all sound asleep when I got up and used the men's mental absence to freshen up and finally change my bandage. To do this, I crept away and moved away from the men. Far away from them and hidden behind rocks that protruded from the water, I then took off my clothes and the constricting bandage. It was an indescribable feeling to be "free" again after days and I enjoyed it with every cell in my body. The water cooled me down and for a moment it helped me block out everything around me. Completely satisfied and carefree, I dived completely under water. Out of pleasure, I closed my eyes and only opened them after I surfaced. Rather said, I tore them open, shocked. I was no longer alone, and I probably never was. He must have followed me, otherwise he would not have found me, at least not this quickly.

Unbelievable. Ivar came up to me and was only very lightly dressed. Well, at least he was wearing more than me. Oh, dear Lord. I was stark-naked.

I quickly disappeared in the water until I was covered up to my neck and crossed my arms in front of my chest, hoping that I had acted just in time. "Ivar!", I said in horror, "what are you doing here?". "The same as you.", he replied baldly and stepped across from me and at the sight of him I could not help but blush immediately. He smirked before diving under water. He dove only briefly under water, but in the short time I panicked and tried to cover up as much as possible with my hands. When he reappeared, I splashed water on his face, only to hide my upper body behind my arms right afterwards. "What were you thinking?!", I snapped at him. He wiped the water from his face and laughed. “What is there to laugh about?”, I asked, “And anyway, why are you following me?”. Ivars and my eyes met, and his eyes fascinated me, so I didn't even notice how he came closer to me. “I didn't see anything!”, he assured me in a whisper, “and I won't look, I promise!”. He took my hands off of my chest and I let him because I trusted him. Yesterday I would have fought against any advances, but at that moment all "ifs and buts" were unimportant. I let him get closer, didn't back down, and not just because I had a rock in my back that stopped me from stepping back and keeping distance, but because I didn't want to. My feelings for him had completely overpowered me and after our lips touched, I was blown away. I closed my eyes and was ready to surrender myself to him. Any inhibitions that I had held onto so tightly before evaporated. When we were as close as never before and I felt his skin touching mine, I literally threw them overboard and so far, I was completely out of my mind.

Only when Hvitserk's voice rang out I came to my senses again.

Thank you so so much for reading!🤗🧡

Tagged: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927​ @curvynerdfan @xvxcarolinexvx​

[alovevigilante]

A (fictional) conversation with Jack Kerouac. By: Kari Keillor

Jack: Hello Kari. I’m Jack Kerouac.

Kari: hi… 🙈☺️

Jack: Well, well, well… she bows to the basic…isn’t you.

Kari: I’m really excited to talk to you, Jack. Your work really resonates with me.

Jack: Well, deciding to be excited is cool, because I’m excited to talk. You decided to connect to the better part of me and I appreciate it.

Kari: it’s an absolute pleasure.

Jack: That’s the point, isn’t it? Pleasure? Feeling it?

Kari: I believe so, sometimes I forget.

Jack: I did too. And much like you, I too, wrote a lot about love, and the experience of life. And also, love isn’t something that one can explain to another completely because the experience is different for everyone.

Kari: Agreed. It’s a completely individual experience.

Jack: Yes. So let’s discuss it now, because the more we discuss it, the greater the possibility we’ll feel it. Get me?

Kari: yeah, I do.

Jack: ok cool. Let’s go off the book a minute. I want you to understand the importance of crafting a good scene. The scene is this, imagining a very nice and peaceful life, full of joy and love. Now, the experience can only be felt, if it’s fleshed out in a really personal and detailed way. So let’s do that now.

Kari: I’m game.

Jack: Great. The scene is this: the road isn’t as long as I described it in the “Lonesome Traveler”. It’s extremely easy to get to, if you follow a few basic rules of thumb. One is this; decide that love is the energy you’d like to feel. Another is offering that love to others. And the third is opening yourself to recognizing and receiving the love that has been established and created. You can only experience something if you can resonate with the feeling of it. So, creating the feeling of openness to love is a sure fired way to experiencing or loving, in your own life. The way to love is simple. It’s the opportunity to create something fantastic, and not spend a dime doing it. It’s the ample creativity that affords everyone to participate, and is the basis for all human connection.

Kari: ok. Got it. But here’s the thing; there are so many people who don’t experience love, even if love is the intention of the other. For example, me. It’s hard for me to get over the way I have felt that I’ve been treated by others sometimes, so my expectation of social interaction with them, is not great. And as much as I try to pitch expectation due to past experiences, it’s almost impossible to ignore the immediate creation of others based on their past interactions with me that weren’t great. It’s a vicious cycle, get it?

Jack: I do. I find it interesting that you bring this up, because we decided to talk about love, and now we’re talking about the lack of it. So, into the depths of the well we go, to retrieve the basic human need of the sustenance of love.

Kari: Is there such a place in reality?

Jack: reality is in the eye of the beholder.

Kari: True, but there’s a shared reality that we all experience, is there not? A reality that is agreed upon and that we build off of everyday, together.

Jack: True, but we all experience it differently. For example, you and I are accustomed to experiencing the lack of love on a greater scale due to our focus on humanity. Others experience it on a more personal level. All are experiencing, but the social engagement is different due to our individual experiences and beliefs which afford us the capability to choose what energy we want to reside in at any given moment.

Kari: Yes, I get that. But how do we get on the same page with our fellow humans when we’re all experiencing and agreeing on the separation?

Jack: another good point. Well, offering our objective opinion isn’t possible, because no matter how hard we try, our opinions and feelings are biased due to our individual experiences and actions. So, the best we can do is try to appreciate the love the only way we, as ourselves, know how. And everyone has to answer what that is for themselves.

Kari: But what if people aren’t into thinking or feeling their way into this change?

Jack: That’s the issue. So, not everyone is willing to do the “work”. The “work” isn’t for everyone. Life is to be enjoyed, not squelched into a very small pinhole. So to others, it won’t be considered work. It’s considered enjoying being alive. It’s all in your perception. Pigeonholing the world as if it’s something that needs to be “solved” is a sure fired way to alienate at least 75% of your fellow humans. Not everyone enjoys solving equations…

Albert Einstein: I do.

Jack: yes.

Kari: ok, look, I can appreciate all of this, I really can, but I’m looking for my happiness and life purpose here. And I feel like it may be a little lofty to try to connect the entire world to me, with one extension cord. I mean, I’m not a conduit to the whole.

Jack: But you are. You are the source of energy that only you can contribute. No one else can contribute the energy you can. And all energy is needed to create the whole. There really is no problem to solve. The only thing to be aware of is the beliefs we choose to hold about ourselves and one another perspectively. That’s where we seem to fall flat. Offering the same energy to one another time and time again will only garner the same result.

Einstein: I said that too.

Jack: yes.

Kari: ok, well, I’m all for solving the world’s love crisis, but I’m here, relatively incognito on the internet, voicing my opinion to the ethos. I don’t have the capacity nor do I have the capability to be as influential as some.

Jack: no one is asking you to solve a “love crisis”. That way of thinking is contrary to the creation of the solution of experiencing love. Offering yourself up as a conduit is the way to support the theory that the world can be healed with love. Love is you, if you embody it. And feeling love, is healing the world that you experience. You are an individual world connected to a universe of other world perspectives. Go out, and be the love ambassador of your world.

Kari: ok, my head hurts.

Jack: yeah, this conversation isn’t for the head. It’s strictly from the heart.

Kari: yeah.

Jack: I love talking about this, because it still affects the whole to this very minute. Asking to be healed isn’t going to get you anywhere but continuing the wanting to be healed. The healing comes from the offering of love to others, and having no expectation that the love you offer can help you overcome your loneliness. Just feeling into the moment of love is reward enough. I wrote a lot about a solitary lifestyle. But if you read deeper, it wasn’t one, because I had a hell of a good time with fellow humans that felt the same way I did. I was able to live and laugh and love, and appreciate my moments. I became mindful of the feeling of love, at certain times. And when I wasn’t offering it to myself, I felt broken, and had to turn to the bottle in order to numb the very pain that I chose to inflict upon myself, from withholding love. I withheld it from others, and myself, from withdrawing from everyone that showed me love, and gravitated towards replaying old, painful movies to reexperience time and time again. It hurt, and I was used to the pain, so that’s what I chose by default. Love wasn’t gone, I just didn’t recognize it. So I couldn’t choose it. I had to experience what I chose, but I had a hard time breaking the habit of not coming back to the love again. So, I ran. And I kept running. And I looked for it over and over in every person I met, thinking that someone had a better solution or idea to life. But in the running, I experienced much more than I ever could being alone. I had camaraderie, I had an open road to fall back on. I knew that there were new, unexplored things to feel within myself. So I continued to roam. And that’s all of us, in a nut shell. We wander around the world, experiencing through our perceptions. We evaluate, and consider, and find new things that further our individual evolution. So you, as a hypothetical individual, write your life. If you are wanting and desiring a change, make some edits. Overwhelming yourself with the usual is not a way to create something new, or a new way of living.

So desire is cool, and dreaming is definitely cool, and we all do it. But the only way to get them out of your head and into your life is by feeling it, and doing something completely different then you were doing. I believe everyone deserves love- that’s a great place to begin. Feel into that a bit. All will be forgiven when the focus on the need to forgive is dropped.

Kari: the energy of love, is something I have a hard time staying in, truth be told.

Jack: well, when you can’t feel the love, be honest about it. It’ll take you one step closer to experiencing it. Honesty, heals too. It allows you to release the resistance to shame. When you’re honest, your world becomes neutral again. It’s a relief to get it out and off your chest.

In my life I had a bunch of crazy, wild adventures, and some more mundane stuff too. And all of it, was what I decided to think about it. I created it all; I screamed, I laughed, I loved, and I wrote about it, and can’t wait for others to do the same. Express their appreciation for life, in their way. However they deem fit.

So Kari, go, and be love. Start small at first. Work your way up to the big love. To the love that will create miracles. Work all the way into creating a love so big that it won’t fit into the sky anymore. The love so humongous that it’ll blast out past our atmosphere into the ethos, til it hits heaven itself. And you’ll go everywhere, and you’ll create everything you’ve ever dreamed about, even the stuff that’s beyond your current vision and comprehension. Create with love, and you will have no problems, nothing to inhibit you. Love is the answer to it all. The love, is the impetus for the doing. The love, creates the new for others to witness, to recognize and to experience foe themselves. But how can they, if you yourself, don’t create it?

Love, is a train rambling down its track. It’s a one way ticket to happiness. And all who desire the feeling of freedom, will do what they can to jump on board. And the “lonesome road” won’t be anymore. Enjoy the ride. Take the time to appreciate all you see, the entire view. Look up at the sky, and the mountains, and the prairies, and the oceans, and the lakes, and the stars, and one another and the majesty that makes the world so great. Eventuality will be, but the journey is the evolution. So create, and evolve.

Kari: love you, Jack. May we talk again sometime?

Jack: my train is always on your track.

Kari: is that a yes?

Jack: it doesn’t take an Einstein, to figure that one out.

Scene.