#like I just want a moment of peace sometimes

[cevansbrat0007]

I saw this and thought of Ari and his Bird right away 😂 Now how would he react? 😌

Dinner is Served...

Summary: You surprise Ari with his favorite meal: You.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Smut, An Appearance from Bucky Barnes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Brief Discussions of Body Image, High Heels, Naked Fun in the Kitchen, Manhandling, Clothed Male Nude Female (CMNF), Pussy Eating, Very Mild Chase Kink, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: I think someone actually asked me this a while ago. Maybe. I vaguely remember my answer. However, instead of rehashing that, this is how I think that would go - with a twist! Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“I sent you the files this morning, Buck.” Ari winces as he shoulders his way into your house from the garage. “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to open ‘em.”

“Just resend them in a different format.” His friend and business partner responds, sounding frustrated. 

“Why don’t you just give-in and ask Pixie to help you already?”

“Because she’s been giving me the silent treatment since Tuesday. Why would I want to risk breaking the streak?” 

Rolling his eyes, he drops his bag by the door – only to be surprised when he spots a pair of your panties laying innocently on the floor. Upon closer inspection, he realizes that it’s actually one of his favorites. It was part of a set he’d bought you just last month. 

“What’d you do, Barnes?”

“Uh…” A heavy sigh can be heard coming from the other side of the phone. “I accidentally broke her fancy little coffee maker.”

“Wow.” He responds, disapproval evident in his tone.  

“Hey! I just said it was an accident. She said she had a bad night and so I tried to make her one of those latte…macchiato…things she likes. And then I broke it.”   

“Make it right, Buck.” After toeing off his boots Ari begins making his way towards the kitchen, following the sound of music in the air. He frowns when he spies your blouse in the middle of the hallway. Closely followed by a pair of black leggings. 

“How?” God, his buddy could be so goddamned obtuse sometimes.

“Fucking apologize. And then buy her another one – a better one.” 

“Ugh!” The former soldier whines. “I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for a replacement. How about I–?”

Wait. WAIT. Was that your bra? Just what the fuck was up with this strange trail of clothes?

“Buck, you’re a grown man. And google is your friend.” Ari snaps as he picks up your fallen undergarment, his confusion growing with each passing second. “Restore peace to the land before that woman feels compelled to drop a nuke.” With that he ends the call, now ready to solve whatever mystery he’s just stumbled upon. 

But what it’s he sees when he rounds the corner that has him stopping dead in his tracks.

“Well, shit.” His mouth goes dry as he watches your hips sway to the music pumping out of the speaker. 

A low whistle of appreciation has you glancing over your shoulder. 

If you were being honest, you’d known he was home the moment you’d heard your garage door open. Which was also why your bathrobe was now hastily balled up in your pantry. 

“Welcome home!” You chirp, not missing the way your man’s eyes darken as they drink you in. “Did you have a good day?”

“What’s all this?” Ari’s already deep voice dips an octave as he holds up your previously abandoned bra, dangling it from his finger. But you know he’s not mad. This question is coming from a man who clearly likes what he sees.

Which just so happens to be you. Happily cooking in your kitchen. Wearing nothing but a little makeup and a pair of red heels. Oh, and oven mitts. Can’t forget those.

You’d come across this scenario while aimlessly scrolling on Instagram. And since you were growing more comfortable with the body you saw in the mirror these days, you figured that it might be worth trying your luck. If only to see your man’s reaction.

“Oops!” You gasp, trying your best to look apologetic. “I just haven’t had a chance to clean up yet. I’m sorry.”

“Baby…” Ari drags a stunned hand over his jaw. “That’s not even – ah fuck. Cleanin’ up is the absolute last thing on my mind right now.” Dropping the undergarment on a nearby table, he begins making his way to you – only to come up short once again when he catches sight of your heels. 

“What? I’m just tryin’ to break ‘em in. That’s all.”

“Fuck meee.” He groans under his breath, his eyes going wide at the sight of your latest surprise. 

“Hold that thought, sugar.” With a wink, you turn back towards the stove before bending over to retrieve tonight’s dessert from the oven. You’re forced to bite the inside of your cheek when you hear your bounty hunter’s sudden intake of breath at the sight of your bare ass. 

“There we go.” You hum, playfully fanning yourself with a checkered mitt. “Hope you like homemade cinnamon rolls with whipped cream cheese frosting." Tendrils of feminine pride unfurls in your belly when you notice Ari’s impressive hard-on tenting his jeans. "They’re the perfect after-dinner treat.”

“That’s–I’m not…” He cuts himself off, surprising you both with his inability to speak. “We–that ain’t the kinda treat I’m hungry for, little Bird.”

“Hm.” You nod as you stretch your arms above your head. Giving into temptation, you rise up on your toes before giving a little shimmy, calling attention to your breasts. “No problem. What’s the point of talkin’ about dessert when we haven’t even discussed the main course?”

“Huh?” Ari clears his throat, his rapt gaze now focused on your pouting nipples. 

“Tonight we’re having roasted potatoes –” 

“I don’t give a good-damn about no roasted potatoes, woman!” The bounty hunter rumbles, cutting you off before you can finish telling him your menu. “You don’t need to cook nothin’ else. I already know what I’m hungry for.” He takes a decisive step in your direction. “It’s just a matter of where I’m eatin’.”

“But you don’t even know what we’re havin’ yet!” Comes your incredulous laugh as you bat away his eager hands. 

“This right here.” He growls, broadly gesturing at your naked body. “All of this. That’s what I want.” Without warning, he grabs the edge of his t-shirt with both hands before yanking it over his head, revealing his muscled chest. “I'm fuckin' starvin'.”

“But I’m not on the menu!” You shriek, throwing a dish towel at him the next time he gets too close. The next thing you know, this man is now chasing you around your own kitchen, his long legs quickly eating up the space between you. 

Fuck it was hard to run in heels! 

“Now I don’t mind where I dine, darlin’.” Your man purrs, his already sexy voice pitched to arouse. “We can take it to the bedroom. The living room…”

“Beast!” You burst into a fit of giggles as you attempt to fend him off with the help of a chair. “Need I remind you that we are in the kitchen?”

Now that makes him pause. But only for a second. 

“It ain’t the first time I’ve had you in here.” The chair you’ve been holding is gently ripped from your grasp. “Pretty sure I’ve devoured that pussy in every room of this house.” You watch in defeat as he sends your last little bit of protection skidding across the floor. “Did you forget how wet you got the last time I splayed you out on this-here table? Because I haven’t.”

One rough, slightly calloused hand grips the back of your neck – drawing you closer. 

“Remember how I made you hold yourself open for me?” His lips ghost over yours – the sharp nip of his teeth causing your heart to beat erratically in your chest. “Remember the way your thighs shook every time you gushed around me?” He moans softly, the erotic sound going straight to your dripping cunt. 

“I–If you don’t want the potatoes, we’re also having…um…” You can’t help but whimper when he abandons your throat in favor of grabbing a hearty handful of your ass. “Herb roasted chicken…”

“I get so hard whenever I think about the way you drenched my fuckin’ beard, baby.” Ari gives you a playful squeeze before lifting you by your hips and depositing you on the table as if you weigh nothing. “My good girl always makes such a mess for me. Don’t you?” 

“Could I perhaps interest you in some honey glazed carrots?” However, your weak attempt at redirection is completely ignored.

A heady thrum of excitement courses through you when you feel your back connect with the cool, wooden surface. And then Ari’s hands come to rest on your knees, gently prying them apart, baring your most intimate flesh. 

“Look at you.” He rasps, tenderly stroking your slick folds. “Fuckin’ soaked already. And here we are just gettin’ started.” He parts you with thick fingers before leaning down to press a kiss to your puffy clit, making your hips buck. 

“Yeah,” he continues. “This is the only honey I give a fuck about tonight.” Gripping your ankle, he drapes your leg over one broad shoulder, opening you up to him even more. And then he reaches for the remote to your speaker, turning up the volume of the music that had since become little better than background noise. 

“Don’t want any interruptions while I enjoy my meal. Especially since you spent so much time preparin’ it.” Ari drags your body towards the edge of the table before taking a seat in a chair and placing a napkin across his lap. “And don’t worry about me needing any silverware, sweet Bird…” He murmurs as his mouth descends upon your vulnerable, quivering pussy.

“I don't mind gettin' my hands dirty.”

END

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[daisymbin]

20. "you can braid my hair if you want."

jun thinks reader’s hair is very pretty and wants to try styling it for them 🩵

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // jun's m.list

fluff prompt #20: "you can braid my hair if you want."

jun was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly while you sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, brushing your hair. the soft swish of the brush was oddly calming, and jun found himself glancing up every now and then, his gaze drawn to the way your hair caught the light.

"your hair’s so pretty," he said suddenly, his voice soft and a little dreamy.

you paused mid-brush, turning to look at him. "thanks," you said, a little shyly, though his compliment made you smile.

"no, really," jun continued, sitting up a little straighter. "like... it always looks so nice. i don’t know how you do it."

you laughed, shaking your head. "trust me, it’s just a lot of brushing and hoping for the best."

he leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the couch. "i’ve always wondered what it’d be like to braid hair. it seems kinda fun."

you looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "you want to braid my hair?"

"maybe," he said, grinning a little but clearly not joking. "if you let me."

you turned back to the mirror in front of you, brushing through a particularly stubborn knot as you considered it. his sudden interest in hairstyling caught you off guard, but the thought of jun sitting there, carefully braiding your hair, sounded oddly sweet.

"okay," you said after a moment, setting the brush down. "you can braid my hair if you want."

jun’s eyes lit up like you’d just given him the best news of the day. "really? you mean it?"

you laughed at his enthusiasm, scooting over to sit on the floor in front of him. "yeah, but i’m not responsible for whatever mess you make back there."

"hey, have some faith," he said, sliding off the couch to sit behind you. "i’ve seen enough hair tutorials online. i got this."

"you’ve watched hair tutorials?" you asked, glancing over your shoulder at him.

he gave you a sheepish smile. "well, sometimes they pop up on my feed, and they’re kinda relaxing to watch, you know? besides, now it’s paying off."

you rolled your eyes fondly and handed him the brush. "just... be gentle, okay?"

"of course," he said, his voice softening as he took the brush. he started working through your hair carefully, his movements a little hesitant at first but surprisingly gentle.

"your hair is so soft," he murmured after a while, almost to himself.

"thanks," you said, your voice quieter now. it was strange, feeling his hands in your hair, but it wasn’t unpleasant. in fact, it was... nice.

jun, on the other hand, was hyper-focused. he parted your hair into three sections, muttering something about symmetry under his breath. his brows furrowed in concentration, and you couldn’t help but smile at how serious he was taking it.

"you’re really into this, huh?" you teased lightly.

"shh," he said, waving a hand dramatically as if to shoo your words away. "i need to concentrate. this is an art form."

you giggled but stayed quiet, letting him work. his fingers fumbled a little at first, but as he got the hang of it, he started braiding more confidently.

"i think i’m doing it," he said after a while, a hint of pride in his voice. "it’s actually looking pretty good."

"i’ll be the judge of that," you said, craning your neck to try and catch a glimpse.

"no peeking," he said quickly, gently turning your head back forward. "you’ll ruin the surprise."

you laughed but obeyed, letting him finish in peace. when he tied off the braid with a hair tie he found on your wrist, he sat back with a satisfied sigh.

"done," he announced proudly.

you reached back to touch the braid, surprised at how neat it felt. standing up, you went to the mirror to inspect his work.

"jun!" you exclaimed, genuinely impressed. "this is actually really good."

he grinned, looking as pleased as if he’d just won an award. "i told you i could do it."

you turned back to him, your eyes sparkling with amusement. "you’re way too proud of yourself right now."

"can you blame me?" he said, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off his hands. "i’ve unlocked a hidden talent. next time you need your hair done, you know who to call."

you rolled your eyes but smiled. "okay, hairstylist junhui. i’ll keep that in mind."

he stepped closer, his expression softening as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "but seriously," he said, his voice quieter now, "thanks for letting me do that. it was... nice."

you felt your cheeks warm under his gaze. "it was nice," you agreed softly.

his grin returned, bright and boyish. "so... what do you think? should i start charging for my services?"

you laughed, lightly swatting his arm. "don’t push it."

he caught your hand, holding it gently for a moment before letting go. "okay, okay. but seriously... your hair’s really pretty."

"and you’re really cheesy," you replied, though the warmth in your voice betrayed how much his words meant to you.

jun just smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your heart flutter. "maybe. but you like it."

and, well, he wasn’t wrong.

[ladylokianna]

Careful what you wish for...

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader (as always i'm not used to use the first person p.o.v. mainly because in English i usually mess everything up by trying to fit verb tenses together so i hope everything is comprehensible). 

Warning: 18+, MDNI, Fluff, but a little smut towards the end (i'm trying to emprove and i hope is not cringe), and again nothing too explicit 'cause i'm not good at writing it.

Fairly ooc Aemond, of course. A bit tender and affectionate with his old grumpy granny Vhagar.   

The title... ehm. Sometimes i find a good one, sometimes no. Sorry.

***

The water of the lake is like a balm on that sultry mid-summer day. You feel as if you go back a few years when, as a young girl, you loved to desert your Septa's lessons so that you could swim in peace and find relief from the heat. You also remembered all too well the reprimand that usually followed those times when you managed to escape, but who knows how you always managed to find new ways to sneak away from the Septa and your damsels-in-waiting to their utter despair.

All is so calm, the sun is warm against your skin despite the freshness of the water beneath you and all is so silent that you can almost hear your heartbit. You like the Red Keep, you like the sense of calmness you feel inside its walls especially when you sit with a book in your hands, but it's still a fortress, and it's impossible to feel completely free in there.

When something huge seems to swallow the Sun above you, you already know who it is: you see Vhagar's shadow heading towards the clearing surrounding the lake and with a slight amused snort you swim towards the shore. Vhagar's landing creates some air displacement, and you hear Aemond giving her orders in Valyrian, before dismounting from the saddle.

"Hello old lady." you approach her slowly with a wide smile, touching the dragoness' snout, which had settled herself into a crescent shape to protect you and Aemond.

"I'm sweating in your place just seeing you in those leathers, you know?" you greet him, chuckling with amusement: how is it possible that he can stand that heavy jacket and even the gloves in that heat? Your laughter dies down, however, the moment you realise that Aemond is serious. "Has something happened, dear?"

"Thank the Gods you are here. We've been looking all over for you, i thought you'd been kidnapped." he scowls you, in a tone that in his intentions should perhaps have sounded stern, but which comes out in a worried whisper. "You shouldn't sneak out of the keep without warning and especially without an escort, it's dangerous."

You didn't think of that, actually.

"I noticed this place the last time we flew with Vhagar and i was hoping to go for a swim like i did as a girl... i'm fine, Aemond, nothing happened to me. You haven't alarmed the whole castle, haven't you?"

Not the whole castle, he replies, but Ser Criston and at least a dozen white cloaks, yes.

He grasp your shoulders and leans his forehead against yours with a sigh of relief, knowing you are safe.

"I'm sorry, i'll be sure to warn you next time." you reply contritely, sensing his tension.

"At least Ser Ammett." he tells you, alluding to your personal bodyguard. "I don't want to restrain you, i want to know you're safe."

You know that, you answer him with a smile. He's concerned, you understand that well.

"Will you give me a little more time before returning home?"

He nods, sitting down into Vhagar's shadow, near her head but far enough from her jaws. Then, he watches you swim for a while, and when you realise he is succumbing to the heat and slipping off his jacket and boots, you return to the shore.

"You must had been beautiful in your youth." you say, caressing Vhagar: what a majestic dragoness she is.

"She's still beautiful." Aemond points out, rolling up his sleeves. "She's just a little bit grumpy but i can comprehend her, since she have to deal with me, hm?" he adds something in Valyrian, and Vhagar snorts softly in response.

"You know Aem, i have to tell you: i didn't think you would last that long with all that clothes on, the Sun is so hot today that you can cook an egg on a rock."

"Is this a subtle way to tell me i had to undress?" he say with a smirk.

That's your turn to sigh, with a fake guilty look in your eyes.

"Not so subtle, isn't it?"

"M-mh. Sometimes you tend to forget that i know you like the back of my hand: you're an open book to me. And besides, as i told you countless times, you only have to ask."

"Care to join me, then, now that you have found out my intentions?"

"...into the water?"

"Well sure, where else? Come on, today it's hot as the dragonfire..."

"Yes, and thanks to you it's even hotter." he replies, looking at the way the wet tunic clings to your form like a second skin. He groans, reaching a hand to your ankle, tracing up along the calf and the crease of your knee and further up on your thigh.

"Later, Aem" you smile at him. You extend a hand in an invitation to follow you. "Come on."

You see him scanning the shore and the lake itself, which is rather calm that day.

"Okay but only up to my ankles."

You point your hands to your sides, arching an eyebrow.

"...maybe up to the knees?" he proposes.

"At least up to the chest, you cannot swim in few inches of water... once we reach the chest, we won't go further, i promise. I'm not asking you to go down-"

"Eh, that's not what you usually tell me."

"Aemond!"

"What? It's the truth." another sigh. "Fine. I can't swim." he confesses after a few moments. "I'm a Targaryen, and we do not swim, we fly."

"That means we'll reach a reasonable distance as far as you feel safe, alright? No jokes, i swear. And in the very moment you feel uncomfortable, we'll go back to shore. I got you, don't worry."

Aemond curls his lips for a moment, looking at you with a strange look.

"Hey, i don't like that gaze: you have something in mind."

"You have to make amend for making me worry." he tells you jokingly.

"Amend? It wasn't my intention to worry you. Tell me then, what do you want?"

"One turn upside down." he proposes, pointing at Vhagar behind him. "Grant us just one turn and i'll join you."

"Here's why i didn't like your gaze." you sigh, looking istinctively at Vhagar, who seems to understand what Aemond is asking: the growl she make is enough for you to shiver.

"Come on, be brave! I'm asking you that for so long and you have yet to see how happy she is when i let her do it. After that, you don't owe me nothing." he then spoke in his language again, saying who knows what to Vhagar, who shortly after shift her attention to you, her pupils pointed into yours. "...see? She's already happy."

"You two will be the death of me."

"Is that a yes? Hm?"

"Yes."

Aemond flashes a smile at Vhagar, and for a second you think you even glimpse a wink.

"You better bring yourself and your wonderful ass into the water, Aem."

"As my lady command." Aemond removes his tunic before running towards the water, diving into it with a loud laugh, leaving you utterly surprised, finally understanding that the whole i'm afraid of swimming story was just a play and above all, what awaits you.

"You... you're so in trouble, Aemond Targaryen." you snort, making him laugh even louder. "Yeah, laugh now, 'cause later, i promise, you'll beg for me to stop."

"Knowing you, you'll be the one begging, and surely not for me to stop."

"..."

Vhagar pokes gently your back with her snout, causing you to lurch forward.

"Easy, Vhagar."

"Why she did this?"

"Because she's happy and she likes you. Less chattering though, come here: water is perfect." Aemond teases you, with a playful smirk.

"Eh, you clearly have no idea what you will have to do to me to make this up."

His breeches suddenly lands at your feet as he looks at you.

"Take off your tunic. Now."

"Look, Aemond, you better not be joking now because you have no idea of what kind of beast you're about to unleash."

"For our sake, woman, just take that goddamned tunic off and make me happy too!"

*

There is something mesmerizing in the way Aemond lets himself go: in those moments you clearly see his armour shattering down and the man you love re-emerge from the depths of his complicated character: once his innate composure has been set aside, once he allows himself to be swept away by the moment, he is capable of consuming you with fierceness -or tenderness- with which he takes you, but at the same time of surrendering himself to you without reserve.

"We should... come here more... more often." Aemond is panting beneath you, still lost in the aftermath of his last climax. He rests his head against yours, smiling as soon as he feels your lips right above his scarred eye, in one of your usual affectionate gesture.

"Uh-huh." you agree, holding your legs so tight around his waist that you can feel his still hard length pulsing into your clenching walls, his hands steady on your hips. He rest a while inside you, a thing he likes to do knowing that you also enjoy. "At least i can hear your laughter again, it doesn't happen so often."

"I know, i'm sorry. Being a Targaryen is no joke."

Sometimes when he's back from a council meeting, you can clearly see the armour he wears to hide his real self so no one could take advantage of his flaws, his humanity. Something you can totally understand as it's not easy at all being part of a reigning family and you know, you know so well that is safer for Aemond to protect himself in that way but sometimes you feel like he's closing even you out of him.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Just give me a minute, i feel sore all over and my legs don't cooperate." is your reply, moving a little to relieve a cramp.

"Oops… sorry, my bad."

"Stop it, you're not sorry at all."

He chuckles, and you feel him hardening again, but Vhagar lets out a loud snort, distracting both of you.

"You're right, old friend. Let's go." sighs Aemond. "We all need to rest and you still owe me something."

[levi-4uckerman]

satoru gojo x reader // secret pregnancy fic reveal // reader self insert

like ghosts in the snow // synopsis: Nearly three years ago, Reader vanished from the jujutsu world without a trace. Guarding a secret that could upend both the life she’s built and the one she left behind, she’s taken refuge in a quiet, snowy mountain cottage on the other side of the world. But the past can’t stay buried forever, and the ghosts she's tried to avoid are beginning to stir.

CH1 TWs: male masturbation, explicit sexual content, graphic descriptions of sex, original characters used, secret pregnancy, mention of young children, mention of past character death, possible manga spoilers, blah blah blah. enjoy :)

side note before we dig in! I know y'all hate a YN so the reader has been given a random japanese name. welcome to ur new life as Shiori Myoji :)

You sat alone in your cabin, staring at the flickering fire. The wind howled outside, shaking the windows and piling snow high against the panes. You barely noticed. Winter had come early this year, though the townsfolk chalked it up to the unpredictable nature of the mountains. You held a half-empty teacup, the liquid long since gone cold. Your fingers trembled slightly as you gripped its handle, though you told yourself it was just from the chill in the air. 

The fire crackled on, and your thoughts drifted like smoke, pulling you backward through time as you stared into the hypnotizing flames.

…

The first time you saw Satoru Gojo as human was at the ceremony following Suguru’s death, a private event held at Tokyo Jujutsu High after hours. There weren’t many guests, but the crowd was big enough that he hadn’t seen you at first. You’d stood at the edge, out of the way, your umbrella shielding you from the rain pouring down like the sky was in mourning, too. 

You hadn’t planned to approach him. What could you have said? The strongest sorcerer in the world, staring at the ground as though he could will himself to fall through it– what words could you possibly offer? Anything that crossed your mind felt hollow, tasted meaningless on your tongue. 

Yet, still, you approached. Those bright blue eyes had landed on you and you were drawn in, like a moth to flame. Your feet were moving before you realized what you’d done. 

“Shi-chan, you’re staring,” he chided, his voice sounding hollow. “Didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” you replied, aware that you both knew it was a lie.

It always was.

He smiled, soft but genuine– like he was just grateful for your company. You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from the gesture. 

The relationship you’d had after wasn’t supposed to mean anything. A week of stolen moments, grief shared in the only way either of you knew how. You sought solace in each other’s arms, filling the empty spaces that Suguru had left behind. You told yourself that it wasn’t real, that it was just a way to cope. Was that a lie, too? 

That week had changed everything. And two months later, when you realized you were pregnant, you knew that there was no going back. 

…

The sound of Haruto stirring in his sleep pulled you back to the present. The cabin’s quiet stillness wrapped tightly around you as you set down your teacup, your fingers still slightly shaking as you stepped toward your sleeping son, curled around his stuffed rabbit. He was so small, so peaceful– and yet, every time you looked at him, it was like staring into the past. Your big, scary past. 

His hair, white as the snow outside… his eyes, that same piercing shade of blue that gazed at you from across classrooms, found you in crowded hallways buried deep in your memory… Sometimes, if you looked at him just right, he even had his father’s stubborn smirk. Sometimes it was enough to make your heart ache. 

You didn’t regret leaving– you wouldn’t let yourself. You’d made the choice for Haruto, for Satoru, for humanity– he deserved a childhood free from the crushing weight of the Hojo name, free from the dangers of being blown into a world of curses. And Satoru…

He didn’t need the burden of fatherhood, another anchor to his already heavy chains. 

He didn’t stop you when you left.

Your breath caught in your throat. You told yourself not to think about him, not to wonder where he was or what he was doing. You’d left him behind, you’d left everything behind, but the truth lingered. Sharp and bitter in the back of your throat. You’d run because you were afraid. Afraid for the part of you that wanted to believe that Satoru might have chosen you and the life growing inside of you over everything else. 

But you’d seen the threads of fate. Tangled, cruel, impossible to ignore. You left because you couldn’t bear to watch him choose the world over you. 

…

The fire snapped sharply, loud enough to make you jump. The flames cast dancing shadows against the walls, and you felt a familiar prickling at your scalp as you watched them move. It wasn't a vision, but a feeling, a suggestion that something may be on the horizon. You closed your eyes, trying to will fate’s whisper into a conversation, but it remained quiet– imperceptible. Glimpses came to you in flickering waves, an apparition at the edge of your mind… someone tall, broad-shouldered, with eyes like the sky…

Your chest tightened as you pushed the thought away with a gasp, forcing yourself to focus on the crackling fire and the sound of howling wind outside. 

“Shi-chan,” an older voice called softly from the adjoining room. “Are you still awake? It’s well past midnight.”

“Aya-san,” you replied, withdrawing your hand from your son’s hair. “Did I wake you?”

“No, child. The storm did.” Aya stepped lightly into the room, moving with the ease of someone used to late-night watches. She lowered herself onto the armchair by Haruto, dimming the table lamp and casting soft shadows across her face. 

Aya Takahashi, formerly Zenin– she’d sought an escape from the troubling world of jujutsu, same as you. Born into the infamous Zenin clan with a powerful technique, she had built her life around the expectations of her lineage… until she met her late husband. He was a non-sorcerer whom she'd fallen in love with devastatingly quickly. Their love was defiant in the eyes of the Zenins, and Aya chose him over their approval. They ran away together, knowing the cost of their love, only for her spiteful relatives to come for them both, bringing their marriage to a sudden, violent end. 

Aya lost her husband that day.

She ran away to this sleepy, mountainside town out west, hoping that its wild, untamed cursed energy would mask her signature. For thirty years, she had been successful. When she came across you and Haruto, barely ten months old at the time, she saw herself in your struggle, and she knew... she couldn’t walk away. 

And gods bless her soul, she didn’t.

Aya had become such an unassuming yet steady presence in your life—a former sorceress who had left her old life behind and found solace in this small, secluded town just like you had.

The arrangement had begun with practicality, but Aya’s quiet strength and experience had turned her into a figure of comfort, almost a guardian. Her motherly tendencies extended to you as much as to Haruto, though she rarely showed her cards outright.

Aya studied you for a moment, her expression knowing. “Something tells me you haven’t slept yet,” she hummed, reaching to turn on the television as if to settle in for a watchful night.

You studied her with a hint of reluctance, knowing exactly what she intended. “Aya-san, you really don’t have to—”

“Go and rest, Shiori.” Her voice was gentle, but her tone left no room for debate. “I’ll be here if the boy wakes.”

“But I—,”

The look she gave you, one full of quiet insistence, spoke louder than any further protests you could make.

With a resigned sigh, you shook your head and accepted the fate she’d laid out for you, the comfort of her presence an unspoken balm. You relented and bid her goodnight, resting a comforting hand on Haruto’s little head before walking away. 

…

In Tokyo, Satoru Gojo was feeling a similar kind of anxiety. 

Ryomen Sukuna had a vessel. The thought of it alone made his jaw clench tightly. It was unprecedented, unpredictable, and as far as he was concerned, a major pain in the ass. There were no protocols for this sort of thing— well, maybe one, but that was the last thing he wanted. “I can’t let them kill him,” he muttered to himself, tone sharp as nails. “He’s just a kid.”

He leaned back in his office chair, staring out at the Tokyo skyline with mild interest. His head pulsed with a day-old migraine as he studied the tiny flares of cursed energy erupting in short bursts across the city's grid. The presence of curses and the activity of curse users had become more erratic than usual, flickering in the depths of the city like embers waiting to be ignited. It had only gotten worse since Sukuna's fingers entered the equation; like all of Japan was holding its breath. Even with his technique, Satoru was struggling to keep up with the endless spikes of energy on the horizon. His head throbbed, his senses constantly assaulted until finally, he pulled the blinds closed. 

Satoru sighed. He hadn't been this on edge in a very long time, not since...

He dismissed the thought, reaching for a bottle of painkillers nearby and rattling it in a last-ditch effort to dull the throbbing in his skull. He popped two in his mouth and swallowed them dry before running a broad palm over his face, a low groan slipping out as he reached his lips. "This is fucking stupid," he muttered, voice muffled by his hand.

With a sigh, he pushed himself out of the chair and stretched his long arms above his head, joints stiff and aching from too many hours of vigilance and too little rest. He hated to even consider leaving campus, knowing that Yuuji-- no. Sukuna was here. Yuuji had done well in controlling the king of curses since they had started training, but the thought of leaving him alone still left Satoru uneasy. Could he really turn his back on him?...

Yes, he decided, as his eyes caught sight of his phone screen flashing the time: 3:55pm. He hadn't slept a wink in over 40 hours, a reckless oversight even by his standards. His Six Eyes needed rest, and he'd be no use to anyone-- especially against Sukuna --if he burned out completely. I can leave. Just for a few hours.

With a tired sigh, he dialed his assistant. “Ijichi,” he sang half heartedly into his cell, his voice missing some of its usual playfulness. “I’m going home.”

Ijichi's protests were immediate, though muffled through the receiver. Satoru didn't bother listening. He slipped the phone into his back pocket without even hanging up, ignoring the last few sputters of "--but Gojo-san!"

Stretching his limbs once more, he felt the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. It wasn't like him to abandon his post so early into the afternoon, but he wouldn't be of any use in this state. Half-blind, staggering through a haze of pain. The pounding behind his eyes was growing unbearable, his senses dulling with each passing minute. 

With one last glance at the skyline, Satoru exhaled, letting his shoulders drop just slightly. It was strange, the guilt that had begun creeping in these days, as if his raw determination alone would be enough to protect humanity from Sukuna's dark influence. But at his core, he knew that if he wasn't sharp, if he wasn't fully there, then he was no more than a tired body standing watch. 

Humanity deserved better than that. 

Yuuji deserved better than that. 

…

In his apartment, Satoru wandered thoughtlessly into his bedroom, tossing aside his phone, his wallet, his blindfold, and all of the other little trinkets he carried on the job. The blinds were drawn and the room was dark; still, he manipulated the pitch black space seamlessly, thankful for the small mercy of darkness. He migrated to his shower-- something else he'd been putting off. 

The hot stream of water-- scalding against his porcelain skin --was healing. Following the contours of his body, mapping the planes of his muscles as it traveled across his skin. The rich scent of his body wash hung thickly in the air, cutting through 40 hours' worth of sweat and frustration. With a sigh, he bowed his head, letting it all fall into his eyes, mouth. 

What the fuck had happened to him? 

Being alone was something he still struggled with. He'd once thought of Suguru as the only person who could possibly understand the isolation that followed his responsibilities as the strongest. But Suguru was gone, had been gone longer even than he'd been dead, and all that was left now was... Satoru and his sadness? Longing? He didn't know what he was feeling. 

Remorse? 

"You promise you won’t regret this?"

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Eyes snapping open, he reared his head back. Infinity kept him from losing his balance, thankfully, but didn't stop the way he wobbled a bit on his feet with the emotional whiplash he'd just received from that memory. That voice. 

He exhaled, long and slow, steam swirling in the dimmed light. His pulse quickened just slightly as the memory returned to him in living color, as if he were reliving it-- naked and vulnerable. 

A laugh-- soft like morning mist. Perfume dancing across his senses, igniting warmth within his chest. He felt her  presence even here, in the sanctuary of his mind. 

Shiori Myoji. The Clairvoyance User. 

The quiet, mundane memory came to him suddenly-- like his pain had picked the lock to a door he'd forgotten long ago. She was sitting on the edge of a windowsill in the Jujutsu High dorms, delicate fingers cradling a cup of tea. He sat beside her, much too close, with a large hand resting on her covered thigh. She was blushing, and he remembered the way it made his heart race. Has anyone ever done that before? 

Has anyone ever done that... since? 

"You're incorrigible,"  she scolded lightly, though the light smile upon her lips told him all that he needed to know. With a glance toward the halls, assuring there would be no witnesses, she leaned into him and he did the same, capturing her mouth in a tender kiss.

Fuck, she was always so soft. So calm. The kind of calm he pretended that he was, but had never really felt. Only in these moments, did she ever seem to look at him. Usually, her gaze extended into a space that he couldn't see-- a space that no one occupied, as if she were seeing something that he couldn't. 

The water hit his shoulders harder now, as if trying to call him back to the present. He straightened, shaking his head as if that could wash away the memory of her. As if it were something that could be scrubbed away as easily as sweat and blood from his skin. 

But she lingered, as she always seemed to do. She'd been away for too long for him to still think of her. She was a distraction at the time, something they both craved desperately. That is what she was, wasn't she? His distraction. His excuse. His anchor when the weight of Suguru's passing had threatened to tilt him off-balance. She was his-- then, now, whether she knew it or not. 

His, because he couldn't let her be anything else.

Yes, a voice in his head purred. Yours, it agreed— languid and sweet, sounding suspiciously like her. 

She was an addiction he’d been more than willing to rid himself of— even if it hurt like pouring salt into a wound. He’d love to say that he didn’t feel it, or that it paled in comparison to the pain of killing his best friend, but that simply wasn’t true. He’d grown attached to her warmth, her quiet strength, the mutual understanding of their own responsibilities as sorcerers. She’d been an enigma to him in high school, a close friend as an adult, and now? A ghost. A shadow. Someone who knew him intimately, someone whose taste hadn’t left his mouth since the last time his tongue was inside of her— because only he knew her so intimately, too. 

Only he had been privy to the way that her brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and disgust when he said something lewd, the way her cheeks would darken at the slightest mention of their extracurricular affairs, igniting a fire in the pit of Satoru’s belly each time. Only he got to see the spit-slick part of her lips when she came, her wet heat wrapped so tightly around his member that he’d nearly blacked out at the force of his own orgasm. Only he knew that it was like that every. Single. Time. with her, like they were both squirming virgins experimenting with strange new feelings. 

Except Satoru had never felt so enthralled with a lover before, and he never would again— something he’d come to terms with after trying and failing to fill the void she left in his life as his ‘distraction’. That’s all she was.

Right?

“Fuck,” he muttered through clenched teeth as he recalled her image in near-perfect clarity, spread out above his sheets— moaning softly, gasping his name when he fucked her just right. “Fucking shit.”

Satoru took himself in his hand, letting the water cascade down his back as he hunched over, pressing his forehead against the cool tile as he recalled more. Her dainty fingers tangled in his hair as she writhed beneath him, bucking her hips against his pelvis and fucking herself on his cock. Broken whispers of ‘Satoru, please,’ as her walls contracted around him, milking his seed into her waiting womb. The taste of her sweat on his tongue, salty and sweet, while he sucked his little purple love bites into her skin. He’d spell out his fucking name with them if he could. 

He’d carve it into her flesh with his teeth if she’d let him. 

Feelings Satoru had never experienced before her— or after her — flooded his senses. The hollow ache of desperation as he craved her warmth, the bitter taste of jealousy as he thought of her with anyone else, the crushing weight of grief when he remembered she was gone—

“Fucking miss you,” he spat, pumping desperately into his own fist, slick with prespend. “Fucking miss the way you feel.”

In his mind’s eye, Shiori writhes underneath him, pinned to the mattress by his weight. Her fingers tangle into his hair as he fucks into her, hard and fast, carving out a space just for him. He’s grunting along with his thrusts, her pretty little gasps coming out in broken hiccups. They’re hiding in the campus dorms again and they have to be quiet; she muffles a loud cry against his shoulder, teeth baring down into his flesh as she locks her legs around his waist with surprising ferocity, holding him so deep inside of her, and oh shit they forgot a condom—

“Fuck,” he hissed out in a sharp breath, tightening his grip on himself. The exhaustion in his bones temporarily forgotten, Satoru slammed a fist onto the wall above his head, a satisfying little crack! coming from the tile. His orgasm had nearly taken his breath away in its intensity, years of frustration and repressed feelings finally coming to a sore, bursting head. 

He stood panting in the shower stall, watching the physical evidence of his longing swirl down the drain. His head pulsed with every beat of his heart, the effort he’d exerted not mixing kindly with his already throbbing migraine. He groaned, running a hand through his slick hair, and subsequently flicking water onto the wall behind him. Fucking Shiori, he muttered to himself. 

Head swimming, Satoru emerged from the muggy bathroom several minutes later. He was still stewing over his momentary loss of control. He could have anyone he wanted, and here he was, fisting his cock to memories of an old flame. A ghost from his past. 

He’d buried her in the place he’d buried Suguru— except, the ache was different knowing that her physical form still roamed this earth. Somewhere. He could find her, if he wanted to. Maybe she'd be able to tell him what the fuck he should do, how the fuck he was going to save a 16 year old boy with an eons-old curse living inside of him. 

A plan began to unfurl inside of him, unwillingly. A first grade sorceress, gone without a trace... But all cursed energy left residuals, didn’t it? Would it really be so hard for the Six Eyes to follow her clues, hunt her down, and bring her back home? 

It wouldn’t be hard, but it wouldn’t be right, he thought. 

Last he heard, Shiori had fled west to study cursed energy manifestation in other regions. It was a convincing cover up, but given her technique and her history of omitting bigger details, he'd always assumed there were other implications to why and where she'd gone. Did she know what was happening in Tokyo? Did she see something that he didn't? 

Of course she fucking did, he scoffed, slipping a t-shirt over his bare shoulders. When didn't she? She always knew more than she let on. It had frustrated him back then, and it frustrated him even more now. The idea that she might have seen this, predicted it-- Sukuna, Yuuji, the spiraling chaos of Tokyo's curses --and had chosen to leave anyway gnawed at him. 

The truth was, he didn't want to think about why she left. Shit, he didn't want to think about her at all. But her name sat heavy on his chest now, a quiet itch he couldn't continue to ignore. If anyone could make sense of the impossible, it was her. And yet... she was gone. She'd left without so much as a goodbye, or a trace worth following. Maybe that was all of the explanation he really needed. 

Maybe that was all of the closure he’d ever get.

With a low groan, Satoru flopped onto his bed, stretching his arms out wide. He didn't get tired often, but exhaustion was settling into his bones. He closed his eyes, letting the darkness settle over him, the plan that he refused to admit beginning to stir in his minds' eye once more, unwelcome and persistent. He could find her. If he wanted to. If he needed to.

...

This is Chapter 1 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @hyookka @drogonfruitzen

[bloomzone]

Feeling Overwhelmed? You're Not Alone. Let's Talk About It..

I know we all go through it. You’re balancing school, friends, family, and everything else, and suddenly, it feels like you're carrying the weight of the world. Lately, I've been feeling burned out, overwhelmed, and like everything is piling up at once. With school stress, exams, and the constant pressure to keep up, I sometimes feel like I can’t breathe. It's exhausting, and I'm sure some of you feel the same.

It’s so easy to get stuck in the cycle of trying to do everything perfectly. Every time you think you’ve got it under control, something else comes at you, and you’re back to square one and YES THIS IS ANNOYING!!!. It's like there’s a never-ending list of things to do, and no matter how hard you work, you never seem to catch a break.

And the worst part? The pressure from others. Whether it's friends, classmates, or even family, there's always someone asking you for help. Sometimes I feel like I’m the go-to person for everything—assignments, questions, last-minute requests. And don’t get me wrong, I want to be helpful, but it can get draining. Especially when you're trying to hold it together and just need a little space for yourself

For example:Today I couldn’t catch a break already stressed about exams, and in desperate need of rest. Just as I sat down to breathe, the calls and messages started.

One of my classmates began spamming me with messages, asking about a history and geography exam date that we ALL already knew. Then, another classmate began asking for English assignment answers. She wouldn’t stop. She kept sending, “Hi, hi, hi, hi…” over and over until I caved and responded.When I finally sent her the answers, her response? “Ahh, what would I do without you? You’re a lifesaver!” And while I know she meant it kindly, it felt so heavy I feel guilty. What about MY life? What about my peace?

In that moment, I realized how much I was giving to others and how little I was leaving for myself. I was pouring all my energy into helping everyone else while I was running on empty

And plus I’ve been in those moments when you’ve studied hard for an exam, thought you’re finally catching up, and then suddenly—a change happens. A test gets rescheduled, an assignment gets pushed to the last minute, and it feels like everything you worked for was just... wasted. I get it. And it’s okay to feel frustrated and angry about it. You’re allowed to feel this way. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.

But here’s something I’ve been reminding myself lately: I am not responsible for everyone else's stress. It’s okay to say no, it’s okay to take a break, and it’s okay to not always have everything figured out. Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary.

Here 5 Tips That Are Helping Me Cope with Stress and Burnout

1. Set Boundaries and Protect Your Energy: I’ve learned that it’s okay to say no. If someone’s asking for help, and you’re already feeling stretched thin, it’s okay to tell them, “I can’t right now.” You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you deserve your time and energy as much as anyone else does.

2. Don’t Overload Yourself—Take It One Step at a Time: Break your tasks into smaller, more manageable chunks. Don’t try to do everything at once—focus on one thing at a time. It makes the workload feel less daunting and more achievable. One task, one hour at a time.

3. Rest is Not a Luxury, It’s a Necessity: Sometimes we push ourselves too hard because we think we’ll get behind if we take a break. But if you don’t rest, you’ll burn out. Give yourself permission to step away, even for just 10 minutes. Watch a comforting youTube video, take a walk, or close your eyes. A little time for yourself can give you the energy to come back even stronger.

4. Talk About Your Feelings—Don't Bottle It Up: If you’re feeling overwhelmed, don’t keep it inside. Talk to someone, whether it’s a friendu trust family member, or even just writing in a journal like I do ..Putting your feelings into words can make a huge difference. It clears your mind and helps you see things from a new perspective.

5. Make Time for Self-Care: It’s easy to forget to take care of yourself when everything is going wrong. But self-care isn’t just about face masks and bubble baths (although that helps!). It’s about doing things that recharge you—reading, listening to music, or even just doing nothing. Find what makes you feel lighter and make time for it.

Let’s Take the Pressure Off Ourselves.

I know the world often tells us we have to be constantly productive, constantly moving forward. But the truth is, you don’t have to hustle all the time. It’s okay to slow down, take a breather, and focus on your well-being. The world will still be there when you're ready to take the next step. You are not a machine pookie. You are human, and you deserve peace.We’re not alone in this, even though it sometimes feels like we are. Everyone’s going through something, and sometimes just knowing that you’re not alone in your struggles can make a huge difference.Remember, it’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to be tired, to feel burnt out, to not always know what’s next. Life is hard, but you’re still here, still fighting, and that’s something to be proud of. I'm so proud of you

© bloomzone

[serendipitous-girl]

warnings: suicidal thoughts, ideation, reckless behavior, depression, the works

You don't know the sound of the end until you hear it yourself. The last words you ever hear, are they harsh? Are they loving? Do they beat at your heart until it's a bloody and bruised mess of an organ? Or do they hold onto your fading love and cherish it like a generational heirloom.

Perhaps you did know what it sounded like, although you hadn't realized at the time. Saying the last love yous to your parents, kissing your baby brother's forehead for the last time. Joking around with your friends. It all came to an end, so suddenly and abruptly.

You were a ghost and surely this was some sort of hell. Trapped without those you know, struggling to survive in the strange unknown.

Your heart was empty, drained of all the blood and love it usually needs to survive. You were less than a ghost, you were a corpse. Maybe you should bury yourself alive, let the dirt swallow you whole until you are nothing but fleshy food for the creatures of the ground.

Sometimes, you wondered if you even still had blood beneath your veins. If you were to take a dagger and slice it across your palm, would that ruby red drip past or would it stay silent? Would your body cry out or would you stay forever mute?

How long have you been in this place? Months or years- it was hard to keep track when your brain had shut off long ago. A puppet for others pleasure, to be used and used. He didn't see you, not truly. He just wanted you to be useful, not to be a human.

Did you do something cruel in your old life? Was this some sort of divine punishment? Maybe this was the universe telling you, you don't deserve love or affection. You deserve this.

To be worked like a dog day and night. To be forced to save those you don't even know, all the while sacrificing your own sanity. None of these people can understand the way your body is nothing but a bag measly holding onto your soul when all you wished to do was let go.

Could they see the haunted look in your eyes? The dark bags under them? The sickly pallor of your skin? The way you dragged your feet as if it took too much energy to walk properly.

Or worse, did they see the way you treated your life with reckless abandon? The way you were so willing to die, like you were wishing it might happen already.

The night grows tired and the day awakens, more moments that you are away from your home. A fish out of water, a monster among gods.

You would have to get through another day, you would have to force yourself through it all. Just for those you didn't seem to even care for you nearly as much as you did for them. Would they die for you the way you would die for them? would they live for you the way you are for them?

One day, maybe, you might be able to feel that rope hug your neck. Or feel the liquid fill your lungs like an elixir of peace. One day, you might die. So you can once again feel alive.

But that day is not now, and it feels nowhere close. You have to protect those who can't protect themselves. You need to be there for them, even if they may not return the sentiment. Were you a hero? Perhaps, but it didn't matter. You'd take the chance to die if it were an option.

“Someday,” you whispered, your voice croaky and dry from lack of use, “I will return home.”

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[carame1bunny]

‎ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───

The beginning of something, yay! I really hope you like it and I’ll try to write as fast as I can. I want the chapters to be way longer, so I’m going to try working on it! Enjoy! xx Bunny

warning: none, maybe Alastor being a cocky bitch:)

───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───

Alastor didn’t even know how he ended up here. Sitting in his car and driving to the loveliest jazz bar in New Orleans, The Red Magnolia, his favorite. Rosie, an old and dear friend of his, has recommended him to a manager, even though he didn't ask for it. He wasn’t interested in making any deals, but went to the “meeting” for her sake.

He knew he had a way with people, so he could have easily succeeded in business, however, his heart was always set on radio. Even when he was a little kid, putting on a show for his mother and pretending to be a radio host, his microphone consisted of a stick and a rock stuck to it with a few layers of cheap tape. Well, he was a real one now— the best one in all of Louisiana at that. Yet, it was sometimes good to make some investments and add to his wealth. After all, money opened doors charisma alone could not.

The humid air carried the familiar scent of lingering perfumes and magnolias, it was spring after all. There was no spring in New Orleans without magnolias. The distant hum of the city was mingling with the sound of his engine.

He snapped out of his thoughts when his eyes began recognizing the area around the bar. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the chatter of late-night revelers grew louder. It was busier than usual, which made him frown. He hoped that it wouldn’t get too popular, he didn’t need people recognizing him left and right whenever he came here. It was lovely to speak to his listeners and hear them praise his hard work, but not when he came here to have one or two glasses of rye and look for his next victim. That, he preferred to do in peace.

He parked his car and made his way in through the back room. The young woman cleaning in the back immediately perked up and went to stand in front of him.

“W-welcome, Mr.Leblanc!” She stood rigidly, clutching her cleaning cloth like a lifeline. He towered over the girl, who was obviously very flustered by it. He smiled smugly, pleased when he was able to make the ladies blush and stammer. And he loved when men were nervous around him, afraid of his words that could shatter their fragile little egos.

“Mr.Devereux is waiting for you in his office.” She fidgeted with the hem of her uniform. “Shall I lead you the way?” She looked up at him. She was pouting her lips, trying to make them look plushier, and tried to open her eyes up wider. It was pathetic.

“Thank you, buttercup.” He flashed a grin, and stepped aside to go up the stairs. The somewhat little bar had a decoration that was just perfectly his taste— dark red, black and gold. The warm, flickering glow of candlelight danced against the rich walls, giving the place an intimate, almost theatrical ambiance. The jazz band’s music filtered through the floor, it made him smile. Jazz had always brought him comfort, and it was his Mama’s favorite. He paused for a moment on the landing, letting the smooth rhythm of the music fill his senses. The black door of Mr.Devereux’s office taunted him, he reminded himself that he won’t let Rosie talk him into any more crap.

After a quick composing of himself, he knocked and stepped in slowly. Mr.Devereux was a short little man well into his forties; his head was balding and his body rounding. He kinda reminded Alastor of a garden gnome. He stood up fastly, nearly stumbling over his own feet, at least he wouldn’t have a big fall.

“Mr.LeBla—”

“Just Alastor.”

“Alastor, in that case… Just call me Rob, I’m very pleased that you were able to make it!” He shook his hand with the little man and smiled tightly when he felt the man’s sweaty palm. It made sense, he was awfully nervous, and could barely look Alastor in the eye. He recognized this kind of nervousness in men. Sweaty palms, red faces and the constant furrow of their brows, it was the matter of money. “Brandy?” Rob offered, his own glass already filled to the rim. He mumbled a ‘sure’, and sat down on the chair that sat before Rob’s desk. Once delivered, he sipped at his brandy and hummed at the burn in his throat.

Once he fell back in his seat, Rob spoke. “I was glad when Rosie told me your name, after I burdened her with my troubles.” He chuckled, his chubby fingers massaging his most likely aching temples. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase, because it’s awfully urgent.” Great, Alastor thought, let’s get this over with.

“There’s this lady…Y/N Valmont. We have gotten her half a year ago. Her face is real pretty, voice like a siren. However, we cannot afford to keep her. Even though people adore her, the bars pay way less for her time.” He swallowed his brandy in one go and continued as soon as the liquor went down. “Mostly because she's a woman, and because she’s unmarried, they expect her to… how can I say this nicely? Do you understand?

Alastor was at a loss, he had no idea what this had to do with him and why “No, Mr.Devereux, I don’t know what you mean. Care to explain?” He had an idea what the proposition was, but he wanted to hear it from Rob’s mouth.

“They expect her to whore herself out, kiss the ass of the male audience. And obviously, she refuses to, stubborn little lady she is, but she can be real sweet when she wants to b—“ Al silenced him by putting a hand up. The other man immediately retorted back into his chair and straightened his back.

Now he spoke what he had on my mind the whole time since he stepped in the Red Magnolia. “What does this have to do with me? I am nothing, but a radio host.” Being humble was always a safe way to go in his opinion.

“Alastor, you have power, you are heard by all of New Orleans. And I have heard that take part in investments from time to time, she could be your greatest investment.” He was stumbling over his words, a new layer of sweat formed on his reddish face.

“If she says she doesn’t want to be courted around, then what would change if I “bought” her from you?” Alastor crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. There was a somewhat awkward silence in the office, the only thing that was heard was the jazz sneaking up and through the floorboards. He could also nearly hear the gears turning in the other man’s head, he was really thinking hard about how to say his next few words.

“Well, people will eventually know that you’re her sponsor and gossip will come around. They will assume you’re courting her and that’s it. No one will expect her to whore herself around. All you have to do is sponsor her, pay for her numbers, her dresses and everything that helps her doll up. I would say… 80 percent, and we will pay the rest. We will manage her, and you just pay.”

He was confused, and just a tad angry. “Then what?” He raised an eyebrow. His lips were stuck in a grin.

“Then, once people accept that she does fool around with a man, especially New Orleans’ beloved radio host, they pay her and us properly, at least we hope so.”

They talked about details, and he thought… Fuck it. It wasn’t a lot of money, at least to him. Even if the plan failed, he would get the money back from the Red Magnolia, and it would bring him more attention.

“So, when can we expect you to decide?”

Alastor chuckled and offered his hand. “I’m in.” He never did anything like this, never acted so spontaneous, he always thought things like this through. But, a good deal is a good deal.

They shook hands, and while Mr.Devereux was working out the paperwork, Alastor decided to head down to the bar. The bar had three floors, the ground floor, where the stage was, around it the dancefloor along with tables with their seats, and of course the counter in the corner. The second and third floor were only balconies, the second had even more tables and sofas, it was more of a section where the guests could talk. The third was only used for the offices, no guests were allowed up there, there was barely any lighting even, only some oil lamps on the walls. The band was playing a soft tune, and people were dancing. His eyes got stuck on a couple. A girl with reddish hair and adorable freckles was resting her arms on the shoulders of, most-likely, her lover, a man with black curly hair. He recognized the lady, she sometimes played the piano right here in this very bar, her long and toned fingers telling the truth of her life’s passion. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the way they were looking into one another’s eyes, their sparkling gazes and soft grins told him everything he had to know. His eyes suddenly picked up a glint on the girl’s finger, a diamond ring. Now that he was looking at the young woman, he could see it. The very bottom of her abdomen was rounding up, her hips softer than usual and a light glow adorning her face.

In moments like this he wished he lived a normal life, a life where he could have fallen in love with a girl, marry her and eventually have a little one of his own. Maybe that way… he could have made his Ma prouder of him. However, he quickly snapped out of it. He didn’t care about all that, no woman could compete with the love he had for radio and the thrill of taking a human life. He wasn’t meant to settle down, or have a child, no.

He looked at everyone’s faces, but no one could see him, he couldn’t blame them, even he himself was struggling to see up there. However, as his eyes roamed around, they caught another pair. He felt his chest tighten for a second, his gaze caught another. Sleek updo and a pink dress. A young woman, who was sipping her cocktail and ignoring the seemingly cocky guy talking to her. She had the sweetest face he ever saw, shy smile and big doe eyes.

Suddenly, Mr.Devereux came up beside him, putting the papers in front of him. He was forced to rip his eyes away from her, so he could read through the contract. It took him quite some minutes to finish reading, he could feel her eyes still lingering on him. While he didn’t date, he enjoyed being around the ladies, they were either his dearest friends or his toys. Maybe this new little skylark could be useful to entertain him, until he gets bored, of course. Once finished, he saw how everything was written as they agreed on.

“So, are you satisfied?” Mr.Devereux asked, motioning to the contract. Alastor got his pen out of his breast pocket and just before making it official, he flashed his eyes again to the girl, who was just zoning out while wrapping her lips around a cigarette. Yes, a new toy is just what he needs. He spoke once he signed every paper.

“You’re damn right I am, Robert.”

───୨ৎ──────୨ৎ──────୨ৎ───

taglist: @jyoongim @lovingyeet @adamwarlockislife-blog @that-dumb-bitch @midorichoco @alastorswifeee @sugurubabe @captainfia @alastorssimp @iheartalastor @speedycoffeedelight @1o-o1 @kimmis-stuff @qu1cks1lversb1tch @chibistar45 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @redfoxwritesstuff @fries11 @certifiedcrybabyyy @sirens-and-moonflowers @rapturenyx @visara-valentina

[tinylilacbun-recs]

Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. They didn’t know about your regression, and from their perspective, it was looking like an abusive relationship. They didn’t know that you needed his care, and sometimes you also you needed his control, even if you won’t ever admit it. You nodded, quickly folding under all the pressure and taking another puff, when you heard a loud cough behind you. You knew it was him. 

The way my stomach dropped...

He said, watching how quickly the anxiety look on your face turned into something else, something that only he could’ve caused, using the specific words that he knew for sure would trigger you enough to fall even deeper in the littlespace. He wanted you to regress even harder, so you won’t be able to take care of yourself and also won’t be able to sneak out or runaway from him like you did today. He needed you to need him. 

HAGSHAAHS HE JUST GOTTA LOOK AT ME AND I'D REGRESS DEEPER

„I just care about you a lot, and they clearly don’t. I want you to understand that, baby.”

The manipulation is insane...I want him

The second he said that, your face was buried in his neck, and your hands were holding him tightly, demonstrating just how much you needed him. Rafe’s eyes closed as he was enjoying that peaceful moment. His little girl was here, with him, under his care and control. The pogues can call it abuse; they can call it whatever they want, but for both of you, it was an escape. Rafe was your savior, and you somehow became his. He slowly picked you up, so you would hold onto him more comfortably. 

RAFE COME AND SAVE MEEEE

Little girls don’t smoke.

Summary: Rafe catching little!reader smoking with Pogues. He isn’t very pleased about that, but he know how to deal with her.

Warnings: Age regression, dark!Rafe, manipulations, slightly forced regression, smoking.

„C’mon, he won’t find out!”

 

Kiara said, giving you a cigarette. You have never smoked before, and you were pretty unsure if you wanted to try. But Pogues were almost insisting; they wanted to see your reaction to the first cigarette, and they also wanted you to finally break free from your overprotective boyfriend. They were happy that you had sneaked out to hang out with them, and they wanted to remind you about your past lifestyle at least a little bit. 

You took a cigarette from the Kiara’s hands and put it in your mouth, frowning at the bitter taste. You coughed when the smoke filled up your lungs, but you had to admit that there was something addicting in that process. Though you were resisting to take another puff. 

 

„You know he’s always smoking, right?”

 

Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow. They didn’t know about your regression, and from their perspective, it was looking like an abusive relationship. They didn’t know that you needed his care, and sometimes you also you needed his control, even if you won’t ever admit it. You nodded, quickly folding under all the pressure and taking another puff, when you heard a loud cough behind you. You knew it was him. 

Rafe didn’t say anything. He just silently approached you, taking a cigarette from your trembling hands. He took a long puff before giving it back to Kiara. He was trying not to show any emotions, but his clenching jaw was betraying him.

Rafe was not happy about that. At all.

 

„It was nice to see you, folks, but we’re going home.”

 

Rafe wasn’t feeling like fighting with them right now. He needed to deal with you going against his rules first. He grabbed your arm roughly, almost enough to make it hurt, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that anything you’d say would trigger him even more. When he had finally dragged inside the house, he silently commanded you to go upstairs and wait for him, and you did as you were told. You knew that he needed a couple of minutes to calm down, so he won’t freak out. Every minute felt like eternity, and when he finally entered the room, you sighed with a small relief. You saw that his expression softened a little bit, as he was trying his best to remain calm. 

 

„Who gave it to you?”

 

Rafe broke the silence immediately, making you even more anxious. His voice didn’t sound angry or upset; it seemed like he was curious about the whole situation. You didn’t want to betray Pogues by blaming your actions on them, but you also knew that they were partly responsible for that. 

 

„Kiara. But it’s my fault for taking it.” 

 

Rafe nodded, knowing that he would have a friendly chat with her later. But for now, his main priority was to make sure that you wouldn’t ever do stupid things like that again. He didn’t plan on punishing you. Why would he do that? The punishment would only have a temporary effect on you. He needed something that would last much longer than that.

He gently cupped your face with his hands; his thumb was caressing your cheek. Your gaze was already filled with naivety and with sincere devotion. It seemed like you were almost on your breaking point and he just had to push some buttons.

 

„Daddy isn’t mad at you, little one.”

 

He said, watching how quickly the anxiety look on your face turned into something else, something that only he could’ve caused, using the specific words that he knew for sure would trigger you enough to fall even deeper in the littlespace. He wanted you to regress even harder, so you won’t be able to take care of yourself and also won’t be able to sneak out or runaway from him like you did today. He needed you to need him. 

 

„I just care about you a lot, and they clearly don’t. I want you to understand that, baby.”

 

You nodded, even though you weren’t paying attention to his words. There were other things that made you feel so little. His gentle touches, soft voice, pet names. He just made you wish that you could’ve been small forever. But who said you couldn’t? You would be his little girl, always behaving and never leaving his side; isn’t that sound like an actual dream?

 

„You’re still Daddy’s little girl, yeah?”

 

The second he said that, your face was buried in his neck, and your hands were holding him tightly, demonstrating just how much you needed him. Rafe’s eyes closed as he was enjoying that peaceful moment. His little girl was here, with him, under his care and control. The pogues can call it abuse; they can call it whatever they want, but for both of you, it was an escape. Rafe was your savior, and you somehow became his. He slowly picked you up, so you would hold onto him more comfortably. 

 

„Do you want your pacifier?”

 

Rafe knew that he had won when, instead of words, he heard your quiet murmuring. 

Taglist: @tinylilacbun @rafecameronsloverrrrr @aew-regression-cove

[focusonkayjay]

between the ride and the roses (7)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff

Word count: 4.1k

Series summary: There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.

Chapter Warnings: jealous jungkook, denial of feelings, communication gap

A/N: sometimes, I feel like, hesitation keeps us from saying the things we truly want to, and as a result, we let moments and opportunities slip away. it’s something that stays on my mind a lot. anyways, how's it going so far? lmk your thoughtsss muah <3

part 7: hyacinth exhaust

That night, after returning from the jazz club, you slip out of your dress, the smooth fabric pooling at your feet as if shedding the weight of the evening. You wipe away your makeup with slow, deliberate movements, your reflection staring back at you in the dim light of your bathroom mirror.

Yet, no matter how much you try to focus on the mundane actions, your mind keeps drifting back to him. To Jungkook, to the way his touch felt against your skin, and the way his dark eyes seemed to burn into yours in the intimacy of his shop.

Dressed now in your pajamas, you sink into the embrace of your bed. The room is silent except for the faint hum of the night, but your mind is anything but still. You stare at the ceiling, trying to quiet the flurry of emotions swirling inside you, but one thought refuses to let go... the way Jungkook had held you, the way his hands lingered on your waist as though letting go was the last thing he wanted to do.

Your fingers graze your lips instinctively, and your breath catches in your throat. You imagine, for just a fleeting moment, what it would have felt like if you hadn’t been interrupted. If his lips had actually brushed yours. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, making your knees feel weak even as you lie down.

You shut your eyes, the image of his face filling the darkness behind your lids. The raw intensity in his gaze, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

A gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes snap open. You sit up abruptly, scolding yourself as if chastising a wayward child. “Ridiculous.” you mutter under your breath, scandalized by your own thoughts. You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the lingering sensations, the dreamy warmth of his hands on your skin.

Yet, as you lay back down and pull the blanket over yourself, a new thought creeps in, uninvited and persistent. What was Jungkook thinking in that moment? Why had he pulled you close, and why hadn’t he said anything? You try to make sense of his actions, analyzing every fleeting expression on his face, every word he didn’t say. Was it an apology? A confession? Or something else entirely?

//

Jungkook sits alone in the quiet of his shop, the bruises on his face and hands dull compared to the fire still smoldering in his chest. He hasn't moved an inch since you left and frankly speaking he has no idea how long it has been.

He leans against the counter where you had stood earlier, where your hands had tended to his wounds with such care. His fingers trace the spot on his waist where your hands had steadied him, the memory of your touch imprinted on his skin.

He thinks of you in that red dress, the way it clung to your form, your hair cascading like silk down your shoulders, and the single piece of jewelry resting against your collarbones like a work of art. He’s never seen anything or anyone, so breathtaking. And the way you felt in his arms… it was intoxicating, consuming, and maddening all at once.

Jungkook lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair, disheveled from the night’s events. He doesn’t regret pulling you close, not for a second. But the look in your eyes when you’d stared at him, shocked and vulnerable, it sparked something inside of him. He closes his eyes and remembers the moment, the way your lips were so close to his, he could feel the faintest whisper of your breath.

If only…

But the sound of your phone had shattered the moment, and now he’s left replaying it over and over in his mind. He doesn’t feel the sting of his bruises, doesn’t care about the fight that landed him there, either. All he can think about is you... how you looked, how you smelled, how you felt.

And just like you, hours later, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, Jungkook is left wondering what could have been. What should have been. And why, despite everything, he can’t seem to let you go.

//

The morning drifts by in a blur of floral arrangements and the subtle fragrance of fresh blooms, but no matter how hard you try to immerse yourself in the simple rhythm of your work, your mind keeps drifting.

Each time you catch a glimpse of the world outside through the front window, you feel a strange tug in your chest. The sight of Jungkook's motorcycle shop next door, with its metallic sheen and the rumble of engines echoing in the distance, brings a flush of thoughts you’re not quite ready to confront.

You can’t stop yourself from looking... just a quick glance, but it’s always too late when you realize how obvious you’re being.

Stop. Focus. You scold yourself. But the thoughts of last night and the way he held you still linger, buzzing in your mind like an unfinished sentence. Each moment in your shop, amidst the petals and greenery, feels like an attempt to outrun the emotions circling inside you.

You try to bury yourself deeper in your work, but it’s harder than you expected. The soft petals of roses, the scent of lilies, and the way the light dances through the leaves in your shop don’t bring the same comfort they used to. There’s a lingering, unanswered ache, a pull that keeps tugging at your thoughts. Is he thinking about it too? You can't help but wonder.

By noon, you’ve rearranged a dozen bouquets, but you’re still no closer to shaking the tension building in your chest. When you hear the chime of the doorbell, you expect a customer, but the moment you glance up, your breath catches in your throat. It’s him. Jungkook. Standing in your doorway.

Your heart flutters, and for a moment, the room feels too small, too charged with the weight of everything unspoken between you two. You can’t quite process what’s happening. Why is he here?

The lingering warmth of last night, the rawness, the tension, all of it floods your system in a wave that leaves you dizzy. You freeze, a thousand questions crowding your mind. Is this about last night? Is he here to talk about…

But then you catch his smirk. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there, and the knowing look in his eyes makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. It’s as if he can read you better than you’ve ever wanted to be read. You stand there, frozen, staring at him as he walks in with that same casual confidence. The soft light of the afternoon highlights the bandage on his forehead, the slightly bruised knuckles, and the faint discoloration on his lips.

“The town fair… meeting.” he begins, his tone smooth and easy, as if there’s nothing strange about this moment. “Are you free at 8?”

Your jaw tightens, your hands gripping the counter for support as you process his words. That’s what he came for? A meeting? Your mind stumbles over itself, partly relieved and partly disappointed. Of course, your meetings had been neglected, and with the town fair fast approaching, it made sense to get back to planning. But after last night, this was the last thing you’d expected him to say.

His words hang in the air, and for a split second, your world goes quiet. That’s why he’s here? Not to explain himself, not to apologize, but to talk about the meeting? You can feel the weight of your disappointment settle heavily in your chest. It’s such an ordinary question, but it carries so much more.

You swallow hard, trying to clear the confusion swirling inside you. What did you expect? You almost laugh at yourself for being so wrapped up in the unknown. You’re both just here to do your job, right? Focus, just focus.

“Uh… yeah, I’m free at 8.” you answer, your voice more subdued than you’d like. You watch him closely, but his gaze never falters. He’s unreadable, and that only frustrates you more.

Jungkook notices the slight hesitation in your answer, the way your lips press together as if you’re holding something back. He watches the faint struggle in your expression and lets out a quiet chuckle, his amusement barely contained.

The sound sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. What’s so funny? you wonder, but his knowing look only flusters you more. Somehow, you sense he understands exactly what’s going through your mind but he says nothing about it, choosing instead to let the moment hang between you.

“Great.” he says simply, turning to leave as if this encounter hadn’t completely scrambled your nerves.

Once the door shuts behind him, you slump against the counter, a wave of frustration crashing over you. Your breath comes out in a heavy sigh, and you run your fingers through your hair, tugging at it in embarrassment. What was that? You curse yourself for getting caught up in the moment. For a split second, you thought...maybe… but now you feel foolish.

As Jungkook walks away from your shop, his mind buzzes with a mix of emotions he hasn’t quite been able to untangle. There’s a quiet ache in his chest, a heaviness that has nothing to do with the bruises on his face, but everything to do with the way you’ve been occupying his thoughts.

He feels guilty for not addressing what happened, for not saying the things that linger in his mind. He knows there’s something between the two of you... something unspoken, something electric. But for now, he can’t find the words, can’t find the courage to break the fragile silence that’s settled between you both.

Still, part of him can’t help but enjoy it. There’s something so raw, so honest, in the way you just reacted to him... shifting your gaze when he looks at you, the nervousness in the way you bite your lip.

It’s a vulnerability he finds both terrifying and beautiful. What is this feeling? He doesn’t know, but it’s addictive, this pull between you. And as much as he wants to reach out, as much as he wants to close the distance, he knows it’s not the right time. Not yet.

//

By the time the clock ticks to 7:50 pm, Jungkook’s thoughts shift from everything unsaid to the meeting ahead. The town fair is only days away, and while he’s been consumed by the tension between the two of you, there’s work to do. He’s been postponing it, letting the quiet between you both weigh on his mind, but now, there’s no avoiding it.

When he walks into the community center, the space between you both feels different... less heavy with anger and resentment, but still thick with something else. His heart skips a beat as his eyes land on you. There’s a shyness in the way you hold yourself, a carefulness in every movement, and it’s so achingly tender that it almost takes his breath away.

The way you glance up at him, then quickly look away, the subtle tension in your posture... it all makes his chest tighten with something he can’t quite name. You’re trying so hard to keep it together, to keep everything professional, but Jungkook sees it.

He sees the war in your eyes, the confusion, the desire, and it makes his stomach twist in ways he doesn't expect.

He can’t help but smile a little, though he tries to hide it. You’re adorable when you’re flustered, and it’s hard to not let himself be lost in the softness of you.

On your side, you’re fighting a losing battle. It’s impossible to focus on the work in front of you when your mind keeps drifting to him. The way his voice resonates in the room, the way his eyes linger just a moment too long on your face. You can’t help but notice how his lips look, even with the slight bruise due to his injury.

And it drives you insane. The way his lips move when he speaks. Stop. You mentally scold yourself, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about how they would feel against yours, the warmth of his breath, the ache you feel deep in your chest every time you’re near him. It’s maddening.

And yet, it’s the unspoken distance that hurts the most. He’s not acknowledging last night. Not a word. He’s acting like everything is fine between you two, but inside, you’re anything but fine.

You’re on the edge, torn between the need to confront him, to ask him what happened, and the urge to keep everything locked away. So, you do what you’ve always done... you keep things professional, distant, focusing only on the task at hand.

But it doesn’t help. Every word he speaks pulls your attention to him like gravity, every movement a reminder of how close you both are, and yet so far. And you hate that he’s not addressing it, hate that he’s pretending like the elephant in the room isn’t there.

But you can’t bring it up either. If this is how he wants to play it, so be it. You think, frustrated. You’ll ignore it, too. You’ll focus on work instead.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is struggling in his own way too. He can feel the tension in the air, the awkwardness that hangs between you two like a storm cloud. It gnaws at him, but he doesn’t know how to fix it... at least not yet.

He’s been holding onto this weight, this feeling, for so long, and he’s terrified to say the wrong thing, to ruin the fragile connection you’ve started to rebuild. He needs to talk to you, to apologize, to explain himself.

But he’s not ready. The town fair is close, and once it’s over, once everything is settled, he thinks he can finally confront this feeling, this undying need to bridge the gap between you two. Until then, he’ll hold on. He’ll wait.

//

The days leading up to the town fair are filled with a vibrant buzz, with only two days left until the big event. The streets are alive with the sounds of hammering, excited chatter, and the constant hum of preparations. Jungkook and his gang have been hard at work, constructing the main stage in the town square, and it’s coming together beautifully.

It’s a large, sturdy wooden structure designed to host performances and speeches, with twinkling fairy lights already strung along its edges, waiting for the evening to transform it into something magical.

Jungkook’s hands, calloused from hours of hard work, move with a quiet determination, and the pride in his eyes reflects his goal of making everything perfect for this fair.

Your friends, Namjoon and Taehyung, are overseeing the game stands while Seokjin negotiates with the food stall owners to ensure everything is in place. At a distance, you spot Juwon, playfully practicing a dance piece with the little kids in the empty garage outside Mr. Jung's house.

There’s an infectious energy in the air, a sense of community that has everyone working side by side, each person contributing to the fair’s success in their own way.

You, too, have been working nonstop the past few days, carefully selecting flowers and arranging them. Now it’s time to bring everything together. The town square is alive with energy as vendors set up their booths and entertainers prepare their acts.

The fair is always a highlight of the year, but this time, there’s something in the air... a subtle, unspoken anticipation that makes the preparations feel even more special.

Your eyes scan the scene in front of you, ensuring everything is coming together as planned. Near the entrance of the square, a set of elegant floral arches stands tall, each arch overflowing with roses, lilies, and orchids, their sweet fragrance drifting in the warm air. The sight of them fills you with a quiet satisfaction.

You direct Mr. Han’s sons, Jisung and Seojun, to hang a delicate garland of jasmine and wisteria near the stage. You want the flowers to cascade down like a waterfall, both subtle and bold, infusing the space with color and life.

It’s no small task, but you trust the teenage boys since they’re quite attentive and skilled, always listening to you with care. You watch as they arrange the blooms, your heart swelling with pride as the town transforms into a stunning display of nature’s beauty.

The sun is high in the sky, and it's Sunday, your usual day off. With your shop closed for the day, you can fully focus on the fair. The past few days have been a blur of activity, leaving little room for anything else. Your mind has been consumed with the endless tasks at hand, pushing aside the thoughts that seem to surface only when you're still.

The strange tension between you and Jungkook has lingered in the background, the unspoken moments between you two too charged to ignore, but you’ve kept yourself busy, refusing to dwell on it.

Every time your thoughts begin to drift towards him, you quickly redirect them, focusing on the work at hand. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t fully escape the way your heart skips when he’s near.

The air is thick with the approach of the fair, and it seems that your mind is unwilling to let go of the thoughts of him. You’re guiding Jisung and Seojun to place the final touches when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“Y/n-ah...” Mr. Kwon calls out, his voice warm and familiar. You turn towards him instinctively, but the sight that greets you makes your eyes go wide. Standing beside the town head is someone you hadn’t dared to expect. Tall and broad-shouldered, his face is a blend of nostalgia and familiarity that makes your heart stutter.

For a moment, you stand frozen, your mind struggling to catch up. But then, your body takes over. The writing pad slips from your grasp, forgotten, as your feet move on their own. Before you realize it, you’re running.

“Sunjae!” you cry, your voice breaking with unfiltered joy as you close the distance between you. Without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug, the kind that speaks of years of longing and unspoken words.

Sunjae’s laugh bubbles up, deep and rich, the same laugh that once echoed through your childhood. His arms wrap around you tightly, grounding you in the familiarity of his presence. In his embrace, the years seem to vanish, the weight of time and distance melting away.

“Y/n...” he murmurs, his voice brimming with warmth and affection. He holds you firmly, his presence both steady and comforting, as if no time has passed at all.

When you finally pull back, your hands remain on his shoulders, your eyes scanning his face as if trying to memorize him all over again. A wide grin spreads across your face, your cheeks aching with the intensity of your emotions.

Sunjae wasn’t just anyone. He was Mr. Kwon's nephew and your best friend growing up. The two of you had been inseparable, navigating the highs and lows of childhood and adolescence together in this very town. Late-night conversations, shared dreams, and countless laughs were the cornerstones of your bond.

But everything changed when Sunjae moved to Seoul for college. Though you’d stayed in touch for a while, exchanging calls and texts, life eventually got in the way. The demands of adulthood pulled you in different directions, and the once-frequent communication dwindled until it all disappeared.

The last time you’d seen him was five years ago, during Christmas break, when he visited for a brief holiday. You still remembered how he’d talked excitedly about his new life in the city, his job, and all the changes that had come his way.

Yet now, here he is, standing in front of you once again, as if those five long years had been just a fleeting moment. The weight of his presence is almost overwhelming, filling you with a joy that makes you momentarily forget everything else.

From a distance, hidden behind a pillar, Jungkook watches the scene unfold, his entire body tensing at the sight. You’re running towards some guy, a man he doesn’t recognize. His eyes narrow as he takes in the way you throw yourself into the man’s arms, your face lighting up with a smile so radiant it nearly stops him in his tracks.

The sight sends a pang through him, sharp and unfamiliar. Jealousy? Frustration? What is this? he wonders as his fists clench at his sides. His nose flares, watching you linger in the man’s embrace, your laughter blending with his in a way that feels far too intimate. The ease between you two, the way this man looks at you.. as if he knows you deeply, as if he’s someone important, sends Jungkook’s mind reeling.

Who is this guy? The question bounces around in his head as he fights the irrational urge to walk over, pull you aside, and demand answers for feelings he doesn’t quite understand himself. He stays rooted, his jaw tightening with every second he spends watching the exchange.

It’s been days since the two of you have had a proper conversation. With the town fair looming, the both of you have been caught up in an endless whirlwind of work from meetings to discussions to planning and managing your respective tasks. Conversations between you and Jungkook have been strictly professional, each interaction brief and to the point.

Yet, Jungkook would be lying if he said there weren’t moments when he’d catch himself stealing glances at you. Times when he’d see you stressing over a task or laughing with someone else, and he’d want nothing more than to pull you onto his lap, hold you close, and kiss you senseless. But just as much as the distance between you two was bothering him, it was unavoidable given the circumstances.

“Woah woah, stop glaring at the poor guy, you’re going to set him on fire.” a voice behind him teases. Startled, Jungkook turns to see Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi standing nearby, each wearing matching grins that only deepen his irritation.

“Who’s that?” Hoseok asks, nodding toward you and Sunjae, his tone dripping with curiosity. “Looks like they go way back.” he observes, wiping the sweat off his face. Jungkook scowls, trying to brush it off. “I don’t know. Someone she knows from before, I guess.” he shrugs, trying his best to sound unbothered.

“Someone she knows from before, I guess.” Jimin mimics in a singsong voice, nudging him in the ribs. “Dude, your face is literally screaming jealousy.” he laughs.

“Shut up.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his ears turning red. “Ohhhhh look at him... he's down bad.” Hoseok chuckles, leaning casually against one of the pillars, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It’s written all over you. Don’t even bother denying it.” he grins.

Jungkook glares at all of them, but his friends are relentless. “Look at him clenching his fists.” Yoongi points out, amused. “You want to deck the guy, don’t you? Be honest.” he jokes. “I do not.” Jungkook snaps, but the sharpness in his tone only fuels their amusement.

“Sure you don’t.” Jimin quips, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s not like you’re standing here fuming while they’re hugging like long-lost soulmates or anything.” he teases, winking at Hoseok and Yoongi.

Jungkook groans, running a hand through his hair, his annoyance at their teasing barely masking the storm of emotions swirling within him. He shoots them a pointed look, but they just exchange knowing glances, clearly enjoying his turmoil.

“Relax.” Yoongi finally says, his tone softer, though the smirk remains. “Why don’t you just ask her who he is? Or, you know, tell her how you feel instead of sulking behind pillars like a teenager.”

“Not sulking.” Jungkook affirms under his breath, but his friends’ laughter follows him as he walks away, his gaze flickering back towards you one last time. Who the hell is he to her? The question gnaws at him, refusing to let go.

taglist:@kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 @jksusawife @yooforeaa @abbie1847 @myjungkookthighs @thesarcasmqueen-22 @fairypjminie @lovelytaes-blog @jjeonjjk7 @daddyjeonnn @vantelover1306 @jeeykey @shellyyy177 @daskewl @blackswan18 @korian97 @minimoninini @ericawantstoescape (lmk if i missed anyone<3)

<- part 6 // part 8 (coming soon) ->

series masterlist

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between Us: Chapter 8

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen navigates a busy morning while Gabby lingers in the comfort of his home, enjoying the ease of their growing connection. When he returns from a meeting, the sight of Gabby and Brisket on his couch stirs something deeper in him. Their conversation takes an unexpected turn when Glen asks Gabby an important question that could change their relationship.

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: None.

A/N: I am really loving these two! I mean I've always loved them but I really feel like we are seeing their relationship develop now! I haven't been able to stop writing the past few days! Hoping to have the next chapter up sometime this weekend after the holiday. Please let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs! Also if you'd like to be tagged please let me know!

Tag List: @djs8891 @queenslandlover-93 @teacupsandtopgun @loveatfirsttornado

The shrill buzz of Glen’s alarm cut through the stillness of the morning, pulling him from the edges of a pleasant dream. He groaned softly, his hand fumbling on the nightstand until he silenced the sound. The room was dim, early sunlight seeping through the blinds, casting a soft glow over Gabby, who was still curled up beside him.

Glen turned his head, the sight of her drawing a slow smile to his lips. Her hair was slightly tousled, her face peaceful against the pillow, and one arm peeked out from beneath the covers. She looked so at ease, so comfortable in his bed, that he almost didn’t want to disturb her. But he had a couple of meetings with a director this morning before he flew to Austin, and he knew she’s have to go to her apartment.

Shifting closer, he gently nudged her shoulder. “Gabs, time to wake up,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with sleep.

Gabby stirred just enough to grumble something unintelligible, burrowing further into the blankets and tugging them up to cover most of her face. Glen chuckled quietly, his heart warming at the sight.

“Five more minutes?” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

“I’ve already stayed here five longer than I should have, babe,” he teased, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the top of her head. She peeked out from the cocoon of blankets, one eye barely cracking open, her expression adorably unamused.

“Go away,” she murmured, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her with a faint smile.

Glen shook his head, amused. “Alright, alright. I’ll let you sleep a little longer while I get ready,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered for a moment, and he kissed her temple before sliding out of bed, careful not to disturb her further.

As he stood and stretched, Glen glanced back at the bed. Gabby had already nestled deeper into the pillows, her breathing evening out once again. The sight sent a pang of something he wasn’t quite ready to name through his chest—a mixture of affection and contentment that felt as foreign as it did welcome.

With a soft exhale, he padded toward the bathroom to start his day, leaving her in the quiet comfort of her dreams.

Glen moved through his morning routine with practiced efficiency, though his thoughts kept drifting back to the woman still curled up in his bed. By the time he had showered, shaved, and dressed in his button-down and jeans, he found himself smiling at the thought of her waiting just a few feet away.

He took one last glance in the mirror, and then Glen grabbed his phone and keys from the dresser before making his way back to the bed. Gabby hadn’t moved much—her small frame was still buried under the comforter, the occasional soft rise and fall of the blankets confirming she was happily lost in sleep.

He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to gently shake her shoulder. “Gabby,” he murmured, his voice warm. “It’s time to wake up.”

She made a sound somewhere between a whine and a grumble, turning her head just enough to bury her face in the pillow. “Mmm, no it’s not,” she muttered, her voice thick with sleep.

Glen grinned, leaning closer. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ve gotta head out. And you’ve gotta go home.”

When that didn’t elicit much more than a faint groan, he tried a different approach. Sliding closer, he leaned over her and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then her forehead. 

“Wake up,” he whispered teasingly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Instead of stirring, Gabby shifted closer to him, nuzzling into his chest like a cat seeking warmth. 

“Don’t go,” she mumbled, her words barely audible but brimming with sleepy stubbornness. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing slightly, and mumbled, “Stay.”

Glen couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and full of affection. “Oh, is that how it’s gonna be? Trying to hold me down so I stay?” he asked, brushing a hand over her back.

She hummed, her lips curving into a faint smile against his shirt. “Mmhmm. You don’t need to go to your meeting. Meetings are overrated.”

“You think so? So this meeting about a script and a possible role isn’t important?” he asked, his amusement growing.

“Not right now,” she said, her voice muffled. She tightened her hold on him as if her sleepy protest might actually convince him to stay.

He shook his head, both exasperated and charmed. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Her only response was a soft hum of agreement, followed by another nuzzle against him. 

Glen laughed again, his resolve weakening with every adorable little move she made. “Alright, you win this round. Five more minutes of this, and then we really have to go.”

He stayed there, holding her for just a moment longer than he probably should have, savoring the way she fit so perfectly in his arms, even when half-asleep and obstinate.

Five minutes turned into ten before Glen finally glanced at his watch and sighed. If he didn’t leave soon, he was going to cut it dangerously close to his meeting. As much as he wanted to stay wrapped up with Gabby in the cozy warmth of his bed, duty called.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said softly, shifting slightly to look at her. “As much as I’d love to stay right here with you all day, we really need to get going.”

Gabby made a faint noise of protest, burrowing deeper into the covers and tugging the comforter up to her chin. “Nooo,” she mumbled. “Don’t want to leave.”

“Come on, babe,” he coaxed, his lips twitching into a smile. “I’ve got to head out soon, and I want to say goodbye before I leave.”

“Nope,” she mumbled, clutching the comforter tighter around her. “You can say goodbye to the blanket. I live here now.”

Glen laughed, shaking his head. “You live here now, huh? That’s news to me.”

“Mmm bed’s really comfy. And warm. I like it here.”

Glen laughed, the rich sound filling the room. “Oh, is that your master plan? Moving in with me so you can turn me into your personal heater and make me late for every meeting?”

Gabby’s grin widened, and she shrugged under the covers. “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

Shaking his head, Glen leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Tempting as that sounds, I’ve really got to go.” He paused, glancing down at her still-snuggled form. “But if you want, you can stay here while I’m out. Make yourself at home. There’s food in the fridge, and you can hang out with Brisket—he’s an excellent host.”

Her eyes brightened, peeking out from beneath the blanket. “Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” he said with a warm smile. “Besides, it’ll be nice to come home and find you here.”

Gabby’s cheeks flushed faintly, and she buried her face against the pillow for a moment before looking back up at him. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Glen sat up fully and reached for his phone and keys on the nightstand. “But before I go, think I could get a proper goodbye?”

Gabby smirked, pushing herself up slightly and letting the covers fall just enough to reveal her sleep-rumpled hair and flushed cheeks. “Proper goodbye, huh? What’s that entail?”

“Well,” Glen said, leaning down until their noses were nearly touching, “it usually involves a kiss. Or two. Maybe three, if I’m lucky.”

Gabby giggled softly, but her laughter faded as he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft but brimming with warmth. She sighed against him, her fingers brushing lightly over his jaw as if she didn’t want him to leave, either.

When they finally pulled apart, Glen smiled down at her, his voice low and teasing. “You’re making it really hard for me to leave, you know that?”

“Good,” she whispered, her eyes dancing with affection.

With one last kiss, Glen reluctantly stood and grabbed his bag, glancing back at her one more time. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart. I’ll leave a key on the counter for you in case you leave. Just lock up if you do,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Get some rest, alright?”

As he grabbed his bag and headed for the door, he glanced back one more time, finding her still nestled in his bed, her smile the last thing he saw before stepping out into the morning sun.

A few hours later the late morning light filtered through the curtains as Gabby stirred awake, her hand instinctively reaching out to find Brisket curled up beside her. The dog’s tail thumped lazily against the bed as he stretched, his big brown eyes looking up at her with quiet expectation.

“Good morning, Brisky,” she murmured, her voice still groggy as she ran her fingers through his soft fur. He gave a happy little huff, leaning into her touch.

She spent several minutes like that, scratching behind his ears and rubbing his belly, enjoying the quiet comfort of the moment. Eventually, Brisket rolled onto his side, content to let her keep going if she wanted.

Gabby finally sat up, rubbing her eyes and glancing around the room. Her clothes from the previous night were folded neatly on the chair by the window—a small gesture she assumed Glen had done before he left. She smiled at the thought.

As she stood and padded over to retrieve them, her phone buzzed on the nightstand. She grabbed it and saw a text from Glen:

Glen: Hey, sleepyhead. Make yourself comfortable while I’m gone. Bathroom’s all yours if you want to shower, and feel free to steal a shirt or some sweats from my closet if you want. 😉

Gabby chuckled softly, rereading the message before glancing toward the bathroom. The idea of freshening up sounded appealing, especially since she’d spent the night in his bed after their first time together.

She made her way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the steam fill the space. Glen’s thoughtfulness lingered in her mind as she stepped under the warm spray, washing away the remnants of sleep and feeling more awake with each passing minute.

When she emerged, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she couldn’t help but feel more at ease. Glen’s place smelled like him—clean and woodsy with a hint of something citrusy—and it made her smile as she stepped back into the bedroom.

She slid her jeans from the day before back on, but paused when she caught sight of the closet. His offer from the text replayed in her mind, and after a moment’s hesitation, she opened the door. Inside was a neatly organized row of clothes, and she quickly spotted the burnt orange of several Texas Longhorns t-shirts.

Pulling one from the hanger, she held it up for a moment before slipping it over her head. The cotton was soft and oversized, falling just past her hips. It smelled faintly of Glen, and she felt her cheeks warm as she smoothed it down.

Brisket gave an approving wag of his tail as she emerged from the closet, looking a little more put together but still comfortable.

“Well,” she said to the dog, crouching to scratch under his chin. “Looks like it’s just you and me for now. Think your dad will mind if I raid his ktichen?”

Brisket trotted after her as she made her way to the kitchen, his tail wagging happily. Gabby paused by the coffee maker, taking in the small but telling details of Glen’s space. The fridge had a handful of pictures and magnets—some of what she assumed were his family, a couple of him with Tanner and other friends, and one of Brisket as a puppy. 

As she moved around, Gabby felt a strange mix of emotions. On one hand, she couldn’t deny how natural it felt to be here, as if this space already held a place for her. On the other hand, it was surreal. She’d only known Glen for a little over a month, and yet she felt more at ease here than she ever had in other people’s homes.

She opened a cabinet above the coffee maker, looking for something to drink. She wrinkled her nose at the sight of Glen’s coffee pods and the bag of ground coffee sitting on the shelf. Coffee was his thing, not hers. She much preferred tea—something warm and calming to start the day.

Scanning the shelves, her eyes froze on a small box tucked neatly into the corner. A box of her favorite brand of tea.

Gabby’s fingers hesitated before reaching for it, almost like she wasn’t sure it was real. Turning the box over in her hands, she studied the familiar logo and flavor, the same one she kept stocked at her own place.

She couldn’t help but smile as her chest tightened with a mix of emotions. He didn’t drink tea—she knew that much. Glen was a coffee guy through and through. Which could only mean one thing: he’d bought it for her.

Placing the box gently on the counter, she pulled out her phone and fired off a quick text.

Gabby: Did you buy my tea for your place?

It didn’t take long for his reply.

Glen: Yeah. Saw it at your place. Thought you might want some here if you stayed the night or ever needed it.

Her throat tightened as she stared at the message, rereading it several times. The simplicity of it struck her harder than she’d expected. It wasn’t some grand romantic gesture, but that was what made it so significant. Glen had noticed something small—something most people wouldn’t even think twice about—and he’d acted on it just for her.

No one had ever done something like that for her before.

She ran her fingers over the edge of the box, her mind swirling with thoughts she wasn’t quite ready to say aloud. But one thing was clear: this was different. He was different.

With a soft smile tugging at her lips, she set the kettle on the stove to boil.

* * * *

The early afternoon sun hung high as Glen parked his truck in the driveway, grateful to finally be done with his back-to-back meetings. The day had been productive but draining, and all he wanted now was a quiet moment to decompress at home.

As he unlocked the front door and pushed it open, he was greeted by a sight that stopped him in his tracks.

There was Gabby. Curled up on his couch, a blanket draped over her legs, with Brisket sprawled across her lap. Her hand moved absentmindedly along the dog’s fur as she focused on the TV, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she watched whatever show or movie held her attention.

Glen didn’t move. He just stood there in the doorway, taking it in. It was such a simple scene, but something about it felt... right. Almost too right.

He leaned lightly against the doorframe, his hand still resting on the doorknob as he let the moment settle over him. The faint sounds of the TV mixed with Brisket’s contented sighs. The way Gabby looked so at ease in his home, wrapped in his blanket, wearing his shirt. The way Brisket, who wasn’t usually so quick to cuddle up like that to people that weren’t him, was completely at peace with her. Glen felt a tug in his chest, a mix of emotions he wasn’t entirely sure how to process. This. He could get used to this. Coming home to her. 

The thought startled him, and he quickly shook his head, as if trying to clear it. Too soon, he told himself firmly. It’s only been a month.

But his gaze drifted back to her anyway, and damn it if he couldn’t help the way his chest tightened again. Gabby had a way of making things feel effortless. Natural. Like this was exactly where she belonged, even if it wasn’t logical or planned. He hadn’t planned to have her spend the night when he invited her over last night. He wasn’t against it, but it wasn’t expected. He definitely hadn’t planned to let her stay at his house while he was gone, but again, he wasn’t against it. And it wasn’t logical to want to come home to her every day after only knowing her a month. But damn, was he not against the idea of doing this every day.

She must have sensed his presence because her head turned, her eyes locking on his. A smile broke across her face, warm and inviting, and suddenly Glen didn’t care if it was too soon or not.

“Hey, stranger,” she teased, shifting on the couch to face him more fully.

Glen glanced up at her, his expression softening. “Hey,” he said, straightening and crossing the room toward her. “How’s your day been?”

“Not bad,” she replied, setting the remote down. “Brisket and I have just been holding down the fort. You?”

“Busy,” Glen admitted, brushing a hand through his hair. “Meetings ran a little long, but nothing too bad. Just glad to be home now.” He leaned over, pressing a quick kiss to her lips.

Glen then glanced at Brisket, who gave him a sleepy wag of his tail, but made no move to relinquish his spot on Gabby’s lap and give Glen a proper welcome home greeting.

Glen huffed out a laugh. “Traitor,” he said to Brisket, earning a snort of laughter from Gabby.

Gabby smiled, her heart skipping the way it always seemed to when he was near. 

“We missed you,” she said softly, a teasing note in her voice.

“Well, I’m here now,” Glen said with a grin. He straightened, pulling off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. 

His eyes then glanced to the TV, and that was when he noticed what she was watching. Twisters.

“Really?” He drawled, his lips quirking into a grin.

“What? It’s a good movie.” Gabby said as she gave him a mock innocent look. "And I saw you had a copy of it on the coffee table so decided to watch it. How did you even get a copy of it? It's still in theaters."

"Actors always get a copy before it's released." He chuckled as he stood near the back of the couch. “You’re really watching one of my movies?”

She smirked, glancing up at him. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. I’m just watching it for David Corenswet.”

Glen let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Noted,” he said lightly, a teasing glint in his eye.

Gabby grinned at his reaction, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “What can I say? The man’s got great cheekbones.”

“Uh-huh.” Glen said as he rounded the couch and sat down beside her, his hand casually grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on her lap. He pointed at the screen, where his character had just entered, stepping out of the pickup truck and amping up the crowd.

“So, how’s David doing so far?” He asked, gesturing towards himself on screen.

She laughed and nudged his shoulder. “Not bad, but your character? Kind of a showoff.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping into a low drawl that mimicked the character’s. “Careful what you say there, city girl.”

Gabby blinked at him, caught off guard by how effortlessly he’d slipped into the role. Then she burst into laughter, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my God, Glen! Don’t do that—it’s so weird hearing it in real life!”

“What? You don’t like it?” He grinned as he grabbed the remote, pausing the movie just as his character started to flirt shamelessly with the female lead. “City girl’s practically my catchphrase in this thing. I figured you’d appreciate the authenticity.”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” she said, trying to hold back her laughter.

But Glen wasn’t done. He leaned back on the couch, his arm draping over the backrest as he gave her a lazy smirk. “Admit it. You kinda like being called city girl.”

Gabby rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “Not even a little bit.”

“Hmm,” he mused, his voice light and teasing. “I don’t know. You seem like you’re blushing a little there, city girl.”

She swatted his arm, still laughing. “If you call me that one more time, I’m going to finish this movie without you.”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Fair enough,” he said, settling back against the couch. But the smirk on his face told her he wasn’t done using the nickname anytime soon. “You enjoy your movie, I’ve gotta pack before my flight later,” Glen said before standing up from the couch.

Gabby raised a brow. “Isn’t your flight not for another four hours? That much to pack, huh?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just trying to stay ahead of things. Most of my stuff’s at the ranch, but there are a few things I like to travel with.”

“Fair enough,” she said, watching as he grabbed his carry-on from the closet near the door.

“You can keep watching your show,” he said, nodding toward the TV as he headed down the hall. “I’ll just be in the bedroom if you need me.”

The faint sound of rustling came from Glen’s bedroom as Gabby wandered down the hallway, curiosity pulling her closer. She stopped at the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the frame, and smiled at the sight of Glen moving around the room. He had a small carry-on suitcase open on the bed and was in the middle of folding a few shirts with surprising precision.

“What’s this?” Gabby teased lightly, crossing her arms as she watched him. “You’re a neat packer? Didn’t see that coming.”

Glen glanced up with a smirk, a t-shirt in his hands. “Gotta keep the chaos somewhere, and it’s not going in my suitcase.”

Gabby laughed, her eyes roaming over the room. Most of his essentials were probably at his ranch in Austin, but the sight of him packing made her realize just how much time he must split between his two homes. She could see the well-practiced ease in the way he moved, grabbing what he needed without hesitation.

“Big plans in Austin?” she asked, shifting her weight as she watched him.

“Just the usual when I’m there,” he replied, tucking the t-shirt into the suitcase before grabbing his laptop bag from the desk. “A couple work related meetings. But mostly hanging out with my family, catching up with a few friends.” He glanced up at her, his expression softening. “It’s been a while since I’ve been home for more than a day at a time. Feels like I’m always on the road these days.”

Gabby nodded, stepping into the room and perching on the edge of the bed. Brisket followed her, flopping down at her feet. “That’s what happens when you’re a big-time movie star,” she teased, though her tone was gentle.

“Yeah,” Glen said, rolling his eyes but smiling. He zipped up the laptop bag and set it next to the suitcase. “It’s not all bad. I like being busy. But sometimes…” He trailed off, his gaze flicking to her for a moment before he turned to grab a pair of boots from the corner.

“Sometimes what?” she prompted, tilting her head.

“Sometimes it’s nice to slow down for a bit. And it’d be nice to have someone to share it with,” he admitted, his voice quieter now.

Gabby’s cheeks warmed at the admission, and she glanced down at Brisket to hide her smile. “Well, you’ve got Brisket,” she said lightly, scratching the dog’s ears.

Glen chuckled, shaking his head as he set the boots next to his suitcase. “He’s great company, but he’s not much for conversation.”

Gabby laughed softly, the sound filling the room. Glen looked at her again, and for a moment, the air between them shifted—something unspoken hanging in the space.

He leaned back against the dresser, crossing his arms. “You should come with me,” he said suddenly, the words tumbling out with an ease that surprised even him.

Gabby blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“To Austin,” Glen clarified, gesturing toward the suitcase. “Come with me. It’s just for four or five days, and I’d like to show you around my world, you know?”

She stared at him, her heart skipping a beat. “Glen…”

“You don’t have to. No pressure,” he added quickly, straightening up. “I just thought… it might be nice. My family’s been asking about you, and it’d give us some time together before things get crazy again.”

Gabby hesitated, her mind racing. She wanted to say yes—of course she did. The thought of seeing Glen’s hometown, meeting his family, and spending more time with him was tempting. But the idea of stepping deeper into his world, into something that felt so significant, made her nervous. They had only known each other a month…and technically they had only been dating for a couple weeks. Was it too early to meet his family?

“Are you sure?” she asked softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” Glen said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want you there, Gabs. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”

Gabby gave him a small smile, appreciating his words, but she could feel the questions swirling in her mind. 

“What if they don’t like me? Your family, I mean,”

Glen blinked, startled by her confession. “Why wouldn’t they like you?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine confusion.

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting slightly with the hem of her sleeve. 

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “It’s just… they’re your family, you know? What if I don’t fit in? What if they don’t think I’m…good enough for you?”

His expression softened, and he reached up to gently tilt her chin so that she was looking at him. 

“Gabby,” he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. “They’re going to love you because I already do.” The words slipped out before he even realized what he was saying, and as soon as he heard them, he froze.

Gabby’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Glen hesitated, his heart racing as he tried to gauge her reaction. “I…” He exhaled a small, nervous laugh. “I guess I just said it, huh?”

She stared at him, her emotions a whirlwind of shock, warmth, and something deeper. “You love me?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

He nodded, his gaze unwavering despite his nerves. “I do,” he said simply. “I know it’s fast, and maybe that’s crazy, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

Her heart felt like it might burst, but at the same time, she felt a flicker of fear. 

“Glen…” she started, her voice barely audible.

He smiled gently, sensing her hesitation. “You don’t have to say it back,” he said softly. “I don’t want to push you into anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you…about us.”

Gabby swallowed hard, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “I think…” she began, her voice trembling. “I think I love you too.”

Glen’s breath hitched, and a smile broke across his face. “You do?”

She nodded, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Yeah,” she said, her voice steadying. “But it scares me. I’ve never fallen this fast before, and I don’t know what that means. What if—”

He stopped her with a soft kiss, his lips brushing against hers in a way that felt both grounding and reassuring. 

“It’s okay to be scared,” he murmured when they broke apart. “I’m a little scared too. But we’ll figure it out together.”

Gabby exhaled a shaky breath, her heart full but still wary. “You make it sound so simple,” she said with a soft laugh.

“It is simple. Or at least it can be,” Glen said, his arm tightening around her. “Because I want to be with you, Gabby. That’s all that matters to me. We can figure out the rest as we go.”

His sincerity melted some of her hesitation, and she found herself nodding slowly. “Okay,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll go.”

Glen’s grin was immediate, lighting up his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, laughing at his boyish excitement.

He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. “You won’t regret it,” he promised, already mentally rearranging his plans to make room for her.

As Glen carefully folded a button-up shirt into his carry-on, Gabby crossed her arms, the gears clearly turning in her head. Then, without saying a word, she slipped her phone from her back pocket and started typing.

Glen glanced over, catching the concentrated furrow of her brow. “What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he zipped up a small toiletries bag.

“Nothing,” Gabby replied a little too quickly, her tone light but not fooling him in the slightest.

He straightened, watching her as she tapped away on her screen. She didn’t even look up as she moved a step back into the hallway, like she was trying to be subtle.

“Gabby.” His voice carried a teasing edge now, his curiosity fully piqued. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” she repeated, her focus still on her phone. “Just… looking something up.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, stepping toward her slowly, like a predator zeroing in on its prey.

Gabby finally glanced up, holding her phone close to her chest as if that would shield her from his scrutiny. “I’m just seeing if there’s a flight I can catch to Austin today since I’m going with you,” she admitted, the hint of defiance in her tone softened by the hopeful smile tugging at her lips.

Glen blinked, then let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Seriously? You’re trying to book a flight right now?”

“Well, yeah,” she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re leaving in a few hours. If I’m going to go with you, I need to get my ticket booked, if I even can get one this late.”

“You’re not even sure you’ll get on the same flight,” Glen pointed out, crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder against the doorframe.

“That’s why I was going to check,” she said matter-of-factly. “What airline are you flying, anyway?”

He stared at her for a beat, piecing it all together. And then it clicked: she wasn’t just checking out flights—she was planning to book one herself. Without missing a beat, Glen moved forward and plucked the phone from her hand before she could react.

“Glen!” Gabby protested, standing on her toes to try to snatch it back.

He held the phone high above his head, easily out of her reach. “Nope,” he said, grinning as she half-jumped in an attempt to grab it.

“You’re being ridiculous!” she said, laughing despite herself.

“Am I? Or are you the ridiculous one for thinking I’d let you pay for your own flight?” Glen teased, his voice playful as he took a step back, still holding the phone aloft.

“Glen!” she said again, her laugh turning exasperated.

He softened, his grin easing into a lopsided smile. “Gabby,” he said, his voice dropping to something warmer. “I’m taking care of it, okay? Let me handle it.”

Her eyes narrowed, though her lips twitched in amusement. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he cut her off gently. “You’re coming with me as my guest. I’ll make sure everything’s sorted. No arguments.”

He handed her phone back with a mock solemnity, and she snatched it quickly, her cheeks flushed. “Fine,” she muttered, though her smile betrayed her. “But you don’t have to do this for me, you know.”

“I know,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face as his expression softened. “But I like taking care of you.”

That earned him a shy glance and a small, genuine smile that sent a rush of warmth straight through his chest.

“Now, you should head home and get a bag packed,” he teased, pulling her into a quick hug before turning back to his own packing. “I’ll call and sort out your flight.”

Gabby shook her head with a chuckle but didn’t argue further as she walked back toward the living room, muttering something under her breath about “stubborn Texans.”

Glen couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he grabbed his phone, dialing the airline to add her to the reservation. If she thought he’d let her do this on her own, she had another thing coming.

As Glen wrapped up the call with the airline, ensuring Gabby’s seat was confirmed next to his, he heard the soft patter of her footsteps returning to the bedroom. He glanced up, finding her leaning casually against the doorframe again, her arms crossed over her chest and an eyebrow raised.

"Okay," she began, tilting her head. "What about a hotel? Am I allowed to book that for myself, or are you going to wrestle my phone away for that too?"

Her teasing tone was playful, but there was a spark of curiosity in her eyes, like she was genuinely testing his response.

Glen smirked, leaning back against the dresser he’d been packing beside, arms crossed as he met her gaze. "I mean, I could book you one," he drawled, letting the words hang in the air for a beat.

Gabby raised her eyebrows expectantly.

"But only if you really want one," he finished, his tone dropping into something softer, almost hesitant. "You’re also more than welcome to stay at my place."

Her confident smirk faltered just a little as she straightened, clearly taken off guard by his suggestion. "Stay…with you? Like for the whole trip?"

Glen nodded, his gaze steady as he shrugged one shoulder, trying to keep his tone light despite the vulnerability he felt creeping in. "Yeah. I’ve got plenty of space. You’d have your own room, if you want, or… I mean, you could share mine. Totally up to you."

Gabby’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t respond right away. Instead, she stepped further into the room, her expression unreadable.

Sensing her hesitation, Glen cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he added quickly, "I just figured it’d be easier, you know? No back-and-forth, no figuring out rides or whatever. But seriously, no pressure. If you’d rather a hotel, I can—"

"Glen," Gabby interrupted, her voice cutting through his rambling with a small laugh. She stepped closer, standing just a foot or so away now, her expression softening into something almost shy.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice quieter now, unsure of where she was going with this.

She looked down for a moment, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before meeting his eyes again. "I’d… like to stay with you," she admitted, her cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. "If that’s really okay."

The grin that spread across Glen’s face was instant and impossible to hide. "Of course it’s okay," he said, his voice warm. "I wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t."

Gabby let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Okay, then. But just so you know, if you snore in your sleep I’m kicking you to the couch."

Glen chuckled, reaching out to gently tug her closer by the hand. "Noted," he said, his voice low, his thumb brushing against her knuckles. "Though, for the record, I’ve never been accused of snoring, so you might be stuck with me all night every night.."

They stood like that for a moment, the playful banter fading into a quiet, comfortable silence. Glen glanced down at her, the corners of his lips still quirked in a smile, and he swore his heart skipped a beat.

"You sure you’re ready for almost a week in Texas?" he asked, his tone teasing but his gaze searching hers, looking for any hint of doubt.

Gabby’s smile grew, her fingers tightening slightly around his. "I think the better question is," she said, tilting her head, "are you ready for me to go to Texas and meet your family?"

Glen laughed, a soft, genuine sound that filled the room. "Guess we’ll find out," he said, squeezing her hand once before letting her go.

"Now," he added, turning back to his suitcase with a grin, "you’d better start packing. We don’t have all day, city girl."

Gabby rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face didn’t fade as she headed back toward the living room. "I’ll have you know, I’m a farm girl. Grew up in Missouri, remember? I’ve lived in the city for like a month. I’m a country girl." She called over her shoulder.

Glen grinned, crossing the room toward her. "Oh yeah? You sure about that?"

She tilted her chin up, feigning indignation. "Positive. And I’ll prove it this weekend."

Glen laughed softly, stopping just in front of her. "Guess I’ll hold you to that," he murmured, his smile softening as he reached out to tug her gently into his arms.

Gabby’s playful expression melted into something warmer as she slid her arms around his waist. They stood there for a moment, her head resting against his chest, his chin brushing the top of her hair.

"Thanks for letting me tag along with you this weekend," she said softly, her voice muffled against him.

Glen pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt her face up toward his. "Thanks for saying yes," he replied, his tone equally quiet, his thumb brushing lightly along her jaw.

She smiled up at him, and before either of them could think too much about it, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her lips. It was soft and lingering, a promise wrapped in tenderness.

When they finally broke apart, Gabby let out a small laugh, her cheeks flushed. "Okay," she said, her voice teasing but her eyes bright. "Now I really have to go pack, or I’m going to miss our flight."

Glen chuckled, his hands resting on her hips as he nodded. "Okay, I’ll meet you at the airport, okay? Or do you want me to pick you up? I can have the Uber swing by your place.”

“I’ll just meet you at the airport.” Gabby smiles before giving him one more kiss and then heading towards the living room.

Gabby spotted Glen as soon as she entered the terminal, standing near the check-in counter with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. Even with a baseball cap pulled low over his brow and sunglasses hiding his eyes, he was impossible to miss. The confident way he stood, the sharp lines of his jaw, and the way he scanned the crowd as if he knew someone was bound to recognize him—it all made him look like he’d stepped out of a movie scene.

He noticed her almost immediately, a small, private smile curving his lips as she made her way toward him. Despite the distance between them, Gabby could see the subtle shift in his shoulders, as if her arrival was all he’d been waiting for.

“Hey,” she greeted softly when she reached him, glancing around to make sure they weren’t drawing any attention. “Have you been here long?”

“Not too long,” he replied, his voice low, warm. “I checked us in already. Figured you might want a tea, though, so I didn’t grab any coffee yet.”

Gabby grinned. “You know me well.” She glanced at the Starbucks line a little further down the terminal. “I’ll grab us some. What do you want?”

“Black coffee, medium,” Glen said, stepping closer as if to keep their conversation more private. “Thanks.”

As Gabby turned toward the coffee line, he added, “And don’t let the barista talk you into getting me one of those fancy seasonal drinks.”

Gabby laughed softly, tossing him a teasing look over her shoulder. “No promises, cowboy.”

The line at Starbucks was long but moving quickly. Gabby stood with her arms crossed, scrolling idly through her phone when a quiet commotion pulled her attention. A few feet away, she noticed Glen—still standing in the same spot—now surrounded by a small group of fans.

She froze for a moment, her heart catching in her throat. She knew this was part of his world, part of him, but it was the first time she was seeing it up close.

Glen had removed his sunglasses, and even from this distance, Gabby could see the practiced ease in his expression. He smiled politely, posed for a quick picture with a young woman holding her phone, and nodded as another fan gushed about how much they loved one of his movies.

What struck Gabby most wasn’t the interaction itself but the subtle shift in him. The easygoing Glen she knew—the one who teased her for being a “city girl” now and gave her goofy grins when he thought she wasn’t looking—was replaced with something more polished, more careful. He wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t entirely himself, either.

By the time Gabby reached the front of the line, Glen was slipping his sunglasses back on, signaling the end of the impromptu meet-and-greet. As she placed their order and waited for the drinks, she couldn’t help but glance at him again. He was already looking her way, giving her a small, reassuring smile as if to say, I’m still here. It’s just me.

When she returned with the drinks, she handed his to him and said lightly, “Looks like you made some new friends.”

Glen chuckled softly, adjusting his cap. “Yeah, they were nice. Thanks for grabbing this.” He took a sip, his eyes flicking around the terminal before landing back on her. “You okay?”

Gabby nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m fine. Just... getting used to this part of things.”

He hesitated, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “I get it. And if it ever gets to be too much, you tell me, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

Her heart warmed at his words, and she nodded again. “Okay.”

As they made their way toward security, Glen reached for her hand instinctively, his fingers brushing against hers before he stopped himself. They exchanged a knowing look, both feeling the same pull but knowing they had to tread carefully.

On the plane, they settled into their seats near the back of first class. Glen’s cap and sunglasses were back in place, and Gabby couldn’t help but laugh quietly as he glanced over the in-flight magazine like he was trying to disappear.

“You know,” she said under her breath, “the hat and glasses make you look more like someone trying not to be recognized.”

He smirked, tilting the brim of his cap up slightly. “Noted. I’ll go full incognito next time. Fake mustache and all.”

Gabby stifled a laugh, but her amusement softened into something warmer as he reached for her hand under the armrest. Out of sight, their fingers laced together, a quiet rebellion against the invisible wall they’d built in public.

As the plane began to taxi, Gabby glanced at Glen, who had leaned his head back against the seat. He caught her looking and gave her a small, lopsided grin.

“Ready for Texas?” he asked, his voice low, almost a drawl.

She smiled back, squeezing his hand. “With you? Yeah. I’m ready.”

Midway through the flight, the hum of the engines and the dimmed cabin lights lulled Gabby into a light doze. Her head, which had been leaning against the window, gradually tilted sideways until it rested against Glen's shoulder. He glanced down, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he shifted slightly to make her more comfortable, careful not to disturb her.

She looked peaceful, her features soft and relaxed, and Glen couldn’t help but feel a tug of affection as he watched her. This was Gabby at her most unguarded, no cameras, no rehearsed lines, just her.

A shadow crossed over them, and Glen looked up to see a flight attendant standing in the aisle. She had a kind smile on her face, her hands clasped politely in front of her.

“Mr. Powell,” she said quietly, her gaze flickering to Gabby and then back to him. “Would you like me to wake her up? I can get her to sit up if she’s bothering you.”

Glen blinked, caught slightly off guard by the question. He quickly shook his head, his smile easy and warm. “Oh, no, no,” he said softly. “She’s fine. I don’t mind.”

The flight attendant hesitated, glancing at Gabby again as if to confirm. “Are you sure? I just thought, with you being, well... you—”

Glen chuckled under his breath, cutting her off gently. “Really, it’s fine,” he assured her, his voice low and sincere. He glanced down at Gabby for a moment, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile again before he added, “She’s my...”

He stopped himself just in time, realizing what he’d been about to say. Clearing his throat, he quickly corrected, “She’s fine.”

The flight attendant nodded, seeming satisfied, and murmured, “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything.” She moved on, leaving Glen alone with his thoughts.

He exhaled softly, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes for a moment. His hand, resting between them, inched closer to Gabby’s, his fingertips brushing hers lightly.

It struck him then how natural it felt to have her leaning on him, how much he liked being her quiet anchor, even in something as ordinary as a flight. He didn’t need to put on any masks or play any part. Around Gabby, he could just be.

When the plane hit a patch of mild turbulence, Gabby stirred slightly, her head shifting against his shoulder. Glen turned to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face with a tenderness that surprised even him.

“Go back to sleep, Gabs,” he murmured softly, his voice so low it was barely audible over the hum of the engines.

She didn’t wake, but her body seemed to relax even further against him, and Glen allowed himself to rest as well. He knew this trip would bring its challenges—introducing her to his family, keeping their relationship under wraps from prying eyes—but in this moment, none of that mattered.

For now, she was here, leaning on him, and that was enough.

The plane landed smoothly, and as the seatbelt sign dinged off, Gabby stretched and turned to Glen with a sleepy smile. He reached up to grab their bags from the overhead compartment, his movements practiced and efficient.

As they stepped off the plane and into the bustling terminal, Glen adjusted his baseball cap and sunglasses, doing his best to remain inconspicuous. Gabby walked beside him, brushing her hair behind her ear as she glanced around at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Just as they passed through the gate area, Glen looked over at her, his lips curving into a warm smile. “Welcome to Austin, Gabby.”

[itsa-me-lily]

This was something cute that I wanted to write before but instead wrote Nine Inches.

Here is the MPS AU masterlist

Self care came in many forms. Sometimes it was a little treat in the form of a new craft kit you wanted to try. Sometimes it was going to an extra group class at the local dance studio. And sometimes it was a Spa Day. A day to just indulge in doing everything that made you feel good in your skin and peaceful in your mind. After the scare with Jiji and Tombo, you deserved a little relaxation. Plus with the weekend, and Simon being out with his team doing something, it meant the house was all yours.

So after sleeping in later than you typically did you had indulged in an everything shower. You used the fancy body scrub that smelt of chocolate and strawberries before taking the time to shave your legs, even going through the effort to go above the knee. You had just changed the sheets on the pull out to a softer silken set and you knew brushing your freshly shaven legs against them at night was going to feel divine. One deep conditioning later left your hair feeling softer.

Honestly overall you just felt a little softer as you exited the steaming bathroom, leisurely taking the handful of steps to the bedroom instead of the typical dash to avoid flashing your marital roommate. You hummed along to your playlist as you grabbed the first shirt out of a a half opened drawer, not really paying attention to who's draw it was. The shirt was soft from supposed years of use and big enough that when you put it on it could just cover your butt. And with your most comfortable set of underwear, the Spa Day attire was complete. Simon always messaged before coming back anyways, you figured you had time to throw on pants if needed.

The next step was provisions. For the guinea pigs you cut up a cucumber, thankful that Baker was still young enough that he could still be taught that vegetables were good for him. Saving yourself a few slices for an eye mask you make a spread of cheese and deli meats, glad you saved your favorite olives for this charcuterie experience.

You had just given the boys their snack, and was debating on if you wanted a pore extraction mask or a hydrating one you had picked up the last time you had gone to the pharmacy, when the front lock clicked and the door swung open.

Thankfully it wasn't someone making a poor attempt to break into your home, because really the front door in broad daylight? Unfortunately it was one Simon Riley, who you were not expecting. The two of you just stared at each other for a moment, Simon standing stock still filling up the doorway, while you were standing by the cough, hunched over like you were Gollum. Both of your brains seemed to need time to process what you were seeing.

"You're home early."

"You're not wearing pants."

"Who's not wearing pants?"

To your horror you saw a mohawked head pop over Simon's shoulder, seeking the answer to his own question. A squeak from you had Simon palming the Scot's face, keeping him from seeing your pantless form.

"No one Soap."

You took the opening that Simon gave you, scrambling to the bedroom and slamming the door shut.

Simon didn't plan on mentioning the fact that you were wearing his shirt, or that he was going to be thinking about the fact you were wearing his shirt. He wasn't going to mention how seeing the name Riley printed across your shoulders had intrigued some caveman part of his brain. Nope he wasn't going to mention it. Just like how he wasn't going to let you stick some black goop to his forehead.

Once you had come back from the bedroom, this time wearing pants, you had insisted on letting him, Gaz, and Soap stay for your 'spa day'. Or well, the other two had essentially invited themselves in, and you were nice enough to let them all stay. For a price of course. It came in the form of you torturing them via tweezers and face masks.

Simon had seen Soap brush off medics when he had a gotten a cut to the bicep, a nasty farewell gift from trouble in the gulf. The Scotsman had taken hits to the face and walked off like they were nothing. And yet the dulcet tones of Soap whining that you were pulling every eyebrow hair from his face graced Simon's ears. Served him right for being self imposing.

Gaz, the pretty boy, apparently had perfect eyebrows already, seeing as you had decided to try out some clay mask you had stashed away on him. Given how it looked drying on him, Simon wasn't sure if it was the better deal or not. With chucklehead one and two beautified, it had just left Simon as your last victim. And you wanted to put goop on his forehead.

Honestly Simon had hoped that his surgical mask would deter you, since it covered most of his face. He should have gone with a balaclava because you had declared that you could simply use your 'pore cleanser' on his forehead. Not if he had a say. He'd seen you use it before, smearing a black stripe across your nose and chin, only to pull it off later in what looked like a truly painful manner. He may have been a glutton for punishment at times, but Simon wasn't an idiot.

Which was why the battle of wills ended with you putting the stupid goop on his forehead. He tried not to focus on how the goop felt cold as you spread it with a tiny spatula thing, or how you'd lightly scold him for how he'd wrinkle his forehead, like he could help it.

Instead he kept his focus on the lower portion of your face, the way your jaw and chin formed a soft semicircle. How deeply the laugh lines were etched in when you smiled at something Gaz did with the boys. It looked like you were biting your lips again, the skin of the lower one slightly torn.

He wondered if they'd feel rough if he-

"Hey Lt, these cokes good to have?"

Simon tore his gaze away from your mouth, cutting to over your shoulder to look at Soap who was inviting himself to your fridge. As if he hadn't already partaken in the spread you had made yourself. He couldn't tell if he was more annoyed with the way he invited himself to things or the interruption.

"Leave the ones with black caps. They're for Thimble."

You paused the painting of his forehead, leaning back to look at his face better.

"Who the hell is Thimble and why are they getting my cokes?"

Simon couldn't help the dry huff at how affronted you sounded at the hypothetical loss of your sodas.

"No one's getting your cokes. You're Thimble."

Simon couldn't see the other two, but he could just imagine the looks he was getting. It didn't have to mean anything that he gave his own wife a call sign. Honestly he felt like getting you jewelry would have meant more.

"Do I have a say in the nickname?"

You didn't sound angry about it, more curious. He shrugged, eyes meeting yours through his lashes.

"Most don't. They just happen."

"Well at least that explains Soap."

"Plus yours is better anyways."

Simon couldn't help but smile at the indignant squawk that came from the kitchen. Again, it's what the lout got for being imposing.

"Guess I can't complain too much then."

Your matching smile made the corner of your eyes crinkle. Was that suppose to be as endearing as he found it?

"Good. Rather like Thimble."

Before you could reply, Gaz was chiming in, the fucker startling the two of you back from where you had drifted closer. When had you drifted closer?

"Um...is this stuff supposed to burn?"

You were gone in an instance, saying something about a possible reaction and needing to wash Gaz's face. Simon was left to watch as you walked away from him, his last name still printed against your back and the scent of strawberries in his nose.

Edit;

Playing DA with my bestie as I write this. If we got cockblocked by a whisp Gaz can have a possible allergic reaction.

Here is the Simon & Thimble Playlist

[kailoraurelius]

📣📣📣 AND ANOTHER THING ABOUT SWAN, I shout into my empty room. @sun-mo0nshine reblogged my post about Swan being the baddest bitch and said they love the way Jasmine says, "Swan". And I have a headcanon about it that idk maybe y'all would like?? So here it is lol. Sorry it's monsterously long.

We all have animatics in our heads, I'm sure. Or full stage or cinema productions or whatever. We're picturing it as we listen. I have a full stage production in mine. There's a few parts that are questionably possible with today's technology, but whatever. It's entertaining and gets me through very long hours at work sometimes.

POINT IS, in my head, Swan almost never smiles. She sounds nearly bored the very first time she says her name in Survive the Night. But we know her better now! We know she was worried even then!! And all the girls are saying their names in ways that seem to match how they'd be feeling in that moment.

Cochise, vibey, positive. Shown by her share of the lyrics in the rest of the song, because she's the one that sings about Cyrus holding the crown and wanting to see what happens with Cleon.

Cowgirl, more excited and rambunctious, down for a good time. That one is simple lol.

Fox, short and fierce. She's already trying to show she's tough in the first moment of her in this. You can hear her lifting her chin when she fuckin' says it.

Cleon, the loudest and most open voice of all of them. Representing basically her whole character in her intro. She is the one that believes fully in Cyrus and is open to her dream.

Ajax, just above monotone, a little extra emphasis on the "s" sound. It feels a little darker, even snake-like for a moment. Not to say she's a snake by any means, but she is ALMOST an antagonist for her own crew throughout—questioning Swan over and over, picking the fight that ends up taking her away—and this bit of darker voice and imagery kinda hints at that to me.

Rembrandt, always saying her name in two parts, the last syllable usually leaning more toward her feelings. (For example, the first time Mercy adds herself to the Roll Call later, Rembrandt speaks after her and there is very clearly a ???? In the middle of her name and an annoyed emphasis on the T at the end, like she's thinking, "who is this bitch? It was MY turn next.") And in this first Roll Call, her voice seems to fall somewhere between Ajax and Swan's vibes. Not as worried or displeased, but in between. Which makes sense because she is the one that echoes Ajax when she openly questions the plan throughout this song.

NOW. Swan. Worried. Monotone. Mind elsewhere, on what the future is about to bring them. I do not picture her smiling in this.

In Warriors' Cypher is the first time we hear some brightness in her voice, but even then she's talking about "peace so far" and stating that she has everyone's backs if that changes. She's STILL worried, even while they're fooling around and having fun. I do picture her almost exasperatedly laughing at the others' parts or smirking at Cowgirl's line, but not full on grinning. She's still focused on her worry, but she's allowing the bit of fun. And, in If You Can Count, I do see her starting to smile as it seems like the peace is going to be a real, lasting thing.

But, as Swan later says in A Light or Somethin', everything goes wrong from then on. Cyrus, running for their lives, the Turnbull ACs trying to kill them, the track fire. In Track Fire and a Phone Call, everyone is again kinda goofing off. Blowing off steam, razzing each other. But Swan is serious and stern. "When we get there, that's when we've made it." No smiling. She's too focused on protecting her crew.

Then we get to Orphan Town and THIS is where I think Swan's first full, genuine smile would come in. Again, she's worried, she's strategizing. The Orphans are taking some convincing. Swan and Fox start their flirting, where I imagine she would have a placating smile on, at least. Then Mercy comes in.

And I think Mercy amuses Swan. I think she comes out, singing about the Orphans, saying "Witcha hand on your BCACK" and, in my head, Swan laughs, startled into amusement, then quickly hides it so Sully won't turn on her. Then Mercy turns on her.

She starts demanding Swan's vest and this is the first and only time in the album that we hear Swan sound a little dumbstruck. That "What?" absolutely sounds like 0.0 She recovers, offers to try and get Mercy one if she helps them through, and Mercy says she wants the vest off of Swan and what do we hear? A laugh. A small one, entwined with her, "No chance" but a laugh. The only amusement we hear in Swan's voice until A Light of Somethin'. So yeah, I think Swan finds Mercy ridiculous and unhinged and kinda hilarious. Still though, I don't see a full-on smile happening here.

But then everything goes sideways, Swan defends Mercy, Sully changes his mind about letting them pass, and Swan decides to blow their shit up. They start putting together the molotov and it's when Swan calls for a piece of fabric and Mercy offers it up that I see the smile happening. The line "Let's make their world a little brighter" is the brightest we've heard Swan's voice be. In my headcanon, feature film, stage adaptation, I see Swan asking for the fabric and Mercy jumping forward to offer it up and Swan, startled again into amusement and gratefulness, fully grins.

I think it goes away very quickly as she focuses on her task and puts back on her leader face, but I think that quick look is when Mercy starts falling.

Back to everything is hard and sucks for a while. Swan is busy trying to ignore Ajax and Mercy's beef and protecting her crew. Her sole focus is getting them home. Then they lose Ajax and she has to lead the cops away. Mercy goes with her and they end up alone.

Which brings us to A Light or Somethin'. We know Swan was likely freaking out inside. Her Warriors are out there somewhere and she can't help them, can only hope they're waiting for her at Union Square. Ajax is gone, Cleon is gone. So she's quiet as they walk through the tunnel, understandably. But, again, Mercy manages to amuse her. You can HEAR the amusement in her voice. She laughs, saying Mercy won't like initiation. She is playful when she says, "Well, you split from the Orphans, are you loyal?" It's a legit question, but it's said with such a lighter feel. You can tell Mercy has broken through the stern, stoic face she's been putting on for just a moment. I think this is the closest we get to another real smile before the Finale. Not the full blown grin I picture in Orphan Town, but a smile nonetheless.

And when Swan rejects Mercy, her voice drops back down to that more monotone, worried voice we're used to. Except it also has a bit of a rasp to it now. A pain. She doesn't want to be pushing Mercy away. Desperation and agitation fill the rest of the song and then it's, once again, everything sucks and we're running. They lose Fox.

And I feel like there's a smile after the kiss in Same Train Home. It definitely feels like there's a few in the Finale, when Swan says "Anyone sick of runnin", when she tells Mercy she's a Warrior, when Cleon shows up, when Swan and Mercy sing "When I am with you" together.

But I think the only full, unguarded or untinged with sadness/worry, grin is in Orphan Town. When this woman Swan doesn't even know shows up and startles her into genuine happiness she wasn't expecting to find anywhere. Much less on the run for her life.

[triglycercule]

thinking so much about horror and dust,,, gosh these SILLY goobers theyre so EYDAGHGGG!!!!! compliments to eachother,,,,,

i need them to make puns about topics that absolutely nobody should be laughing about and then DIE cackling because no waaay the punchline was a human's execution :333 (phantom papyrus is shaking his head in dismay)

need them to share stories about shitty experiences with humans and for horror to be impressed by dust's ability to keep coming up with new ways to kill his human and then for dust to also be impressed by horror's ability to handle with all different types of humans!!!

they make eachother food but dust poisoned horror's food and horror added rusted nails to his so theyre just like no you first you really should eat first i wouldn't wanna be rude no but i INSIST! they both know. it's a fun little game isnt it??? horror gets a bit scared of having to eat the food when dust's eyes turn red and cyan but it's okay because then he can just shove the shitty eggs he made into those eyes because theres literal NAILS cooked into it

sometimes they fight because thats normal and dust is annoyed at horror for hating undyne because she's a good person who just wanted to help others and horror's getting pissed because DIDN'T YOU LITERALLY KILL HER DONT YOU JUST VIEW HER AS EXP WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HER!!! and they bicker back and forth and dust is really starting to wonder why he even empathizes with horror atp.... but its ok after a little quarrel they simmer down and move on. they dont change opinions at all the fight was for nothing

but then there's also times when they just wanna confide in each other because likeeeee theyre both shitty people who fucked up their undergrounds by their own accords and miss how peaceful life was back then. dust tells horror stories of life back before the human came because horror doesn't really remember it that well anymore and horror speaks to phantom papyrus through dust so he can pretend that this is just a conversation between sans and papyrus and everything's okay for just a moment. they both linger onto their memories of how things were before everything went to shit even though horror can barely remember and dust hates his previous self back then,,,,,

dust thinks horror's sooo much better than him for not literally mass murdering everyone but then goes around and stink eyes him for forcing his snowdin to eat humans and then leave the rest of the underground to starve. WHY DIDN'T YOU DO BETTER HORROR WHY DIDN'T HELP EVERYONE ELSE. horror scoffs because even though he kinda lowkey gets dust's philosophy of saving everyone and stopping the human through gaining LV he still killed everyone??? WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO THEM YOU IDIOT SHOULD'VE JUST FOUND ANOTHER WAY OR LET IT HAPPEN!!! the way they understand eachother on paper but then in reality despise what the other did,,,,,

ok SO WHAT if they encourage eachother's delusions. SO WHAT if they pretend the past never went away so WHAAAAT!!! it doesn't matter at least they found someone who can match their freak,,,,,, dust and horror peak duo PEAK DUO DARE I SAY OK

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Part 6

Summary: As the tension within the gang at Shady Belle grows heavier, you confront John about your fears for both of your safety and the dangerous path Dutch is leading everyone down.

wc: 2.9k

ao3 link

a/n: This is definitely a "bridge" chapter, so a little more fast paced and shorter, apologies if it feels rushed. I plan to write my ass off tonight and then schedule the next few chapters to be posted so I don't have to stress myself out going into the holiday weekend. Stay tuned! <3

The ride back to Clemens Point was peaceful, the calm of the weekend still lingering between you and John. The memories of quiet moments by the waterfall and the easy laughter you shared made the looming reality of camp feel distant, almost unreal. As you crossed into the clearing, the usual hum of the gang’s activity greeted you, but something felt different—tenser. John barely had time to dismount before Dutch appeared, striding toward him with purpose, his expression sharp and full of determination.

“There you are, Marston,” Dutch called, his tone brisk as his eyes flicked to you for the briefest of moments before locking onto John. “No time for rest. The Braithwaite mansion is ready to be hit, and we ride now.” Without waiting for a reply, Dutch clapped a hand on John’s shoulder, already pulling him toward the group of men gathering their weapons and mounts.

You stayed frozen for a moment, still holding Dahlia’s reins, your stomach twisting as you watched John get swept up into the chaos without so much as a chance to catch his breath. “Dutch, we just got back—” you started, but the older man waved you off with a dismissive gesture.

“This is the moment we’ve been waiting for,” he said, not even looking back at you as he continued toward his horse. “We need every man for this.”

John gave you a fleeting glance, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but the urgency of Dutch’s call left no time. Before you could even protest, he swung back into the saddle, sparing one last look at you as he joined the others.

A heavy weight settled in your chest as you stood there, helpless, watching him ride off into the trees with the rest of the gang. Your mind swirled with worry, the image of John charging into the unknown—into danger—haunting you. The thought of losing him, of something going wrong, made your stomach churn, and though you tried to steady your breathing, the fear wouldn’t leave. You paced anxiously near the edge of camp, your heart racing with every passing minute as you waited for any sign of their return, praying silently that he’d come back to you unscathed.

-

The acrid stench of smoke still clung to the air as the gang rode hard away from the burning Braithwaite mansion, its roaring flames lighting up the night like a second sun. The cries of Miss Braithwaite echoed faintly in the distance, mingling with the hoofbeats pounding through the muddy roads. The job had gone south fast—what was supposed to be a final blow to the family that had crossed the Van der Linde gang turned into a fiery spectacle that left no doubt the Pinkertons would be close behind.

“Damn it, Dutch,” Arthur muttered under his breath as he rode alongside John, his revolver still drawn and his eyes scanning the treeline for trouble. “You really think this was the smart play?”

Dutch, riding ahead with Hosea, twisted in his saddle, his face lit by the faint glow of the distant fire. “Sometimes, Arthur,” he said sharply, “you have to make a statement. The Braithwaites thought they could cross us, and now they’ll think twice before anyone else does.”

Arthur scoffed, but his attention shifted back to the road as he tucked his revolver into its holster. Riding just in front of Lenny, Bill, Javier, and Micah, John’s jaw was set tight, his gaze flicking back toward the mansion every so often to reassure himself that no one was following.

“They’re gonna be after us now,” John muttered, his voice low. “Law, Raiders, whoever’s left of the Braithwaites—we can’t stay at Clemens Point.”

“Dutch knows it,” Arthur replied, though the weight of the situation settled heavily on his chest.

-

The sound of hoofbeats breaking through the dense evening air pulled your attention to the edge of camp, and your heart leapt at the sight of John riding in with the others. His shirt was smeared with soot and dirt, his face streaked with sweat, but he was upright, whole, and alive. Relief flooded through you as you rushed toward him, barely giving him a chance to dismount before you threw your arms around him. He held you tightly, his breath warm against your hair as he murmured, “I’m alright, darlin’. I’m alright.” His voice was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the weight of whatever had happened still clinging to him.

He pulled back slightly, his hands resting on your arms as he looked down at you, his expression softening at your worried gaze. “It got messy,” he admitted, his voice low but firm. “The Braithwaites didn’t go down easy. They had people everywhere, fightin’ to the bitter end. We torched the place, but… there was more blood than Dutch let on.” He glanced away for a moment, his jaw tightening, before his eyes met yours again. “But I’m here, and I ain’t hurt. Just… tired.” His thumb brushed lightly against your arm as he tried to ease your concern.

You hesitated, your voice soft but firm as you looked at him, worry etched across your face. “John, I don’t like the things Dutch has been askin’ y'all to do lately—it feels like we’re crossin’ lines we shouldn’t be. Inserting ourselves where we don't belong."

John sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his voice low but steady. “I get it, darlin’, but Dutch—he’s got a plan, a way outta all this mess, and we just gotta trust him a little longer.”

You nodded slowly, the tension in your chest tightening as you tried to meet John’s earnest gaze. “Alright,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. “If that's what you think, I’ll follow your lead.” But even as the words left your lips, doubt crept into your mind, twisting uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. Something about Dutch’s plans had been unsettling you for weeks—the way his schemes seemed to grow riskier, more reckless, as if he were chasing something he couldn’t quite catch. You wanted to trust John, to believe in his unwavering faith, but deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this path was leading you both somewhere you might not come back from.

-

By the time the gang reached the swamp, the adrenaline from the night had worn thin, replaced by exhaustion and unease. The route was slow and winding, the horses uneasy as they picked their way through the misty bog. It wasn’t until the broken silhouette of Shady Belle appeared through the haze that Dutch finally signaled for everyone to stop.

“There it is,” he announced, his voice carrying through the night. “Our new home.”

You stared at the crumbling mansion, its windows broken and vines creeping up its sagging walls. The place reeked of abandonment and decay, its shadow looming over the swamp like a ghost of better days.

Arthur rode up beside Dutch, shaking his head. “This is what you had in mind? Looks more like a tomb than a camp.”

Dutch turned to him, a sharp glint in his eye. “It’s hidden, Arthur. Out of the way, quiet. We’ll make it work.”

John sighed heavily as he dismounted, helping you down before tying up the horses. “Don’t look like we’ve got much of a choice,” he muttered under his breath, his hand brushing against yours briefly as you both turned to assess the place.

Arthur pushed open a door, his revolver raised as he scanned the dim room.

“Squatters,” he muttered, his gaze falling on the scattered belongings and rotting food on the floor.

“Least they’re gone,” John said, nudging a broken chair aside with his boot.

“They didn’t leave it like this on their own,” you said quietly, pointing to the bloodstains smeared on the walls.

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but there was no time to dwell. Room by room, the gang secured the mansion, dragging debris outside and clearing a space for the camp.

By the time the sun began to rise, the worst of the mess had been dealt with, though the place still felt far from safe.

As everyone gathered near the front of the mansion, Dutch stood on the steps, his figure framed by the foggy dawn.

“This,” he said, his voice carrying over the group, “is not what I’d call ideal. But it’s what we have—for now. We’ll rebuild here, lay low, and plan our next move. They may think they’ve pushed us to the edge, but they’ll see… the Van der Linde gang isn’t so easily broken.”

The gang murmured their agreement, though the unease was palpable. Arthur stood off to the side, muttering something under his breath, while John lingered near you, his presence steady. As the others scattered to unpack and settle in, John turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “You alright?” he asked quietly, his tone softer now that the chaos had died down.

You nodded, though the exhaustion of the night weighed heavily on you. “I’ll be fine,” you said, offering a small smile.

His hand brushed against yours, a fleeting but reassuring touch. “We’ll make it work,” he said, echoing the sentiment Dutch had tried to inspire—but his words carried more weight, because they were for you alone.

This wasn’t home, but for now, it was all the gang had. And as you looked out at the dense swamp surrounding the mansion, the reality of the road ahead began to set in.

-

The move to Shady Belle brought no relief, only a deeper sense of unease that seemed to cling to the gang like the swamp’s heavy mist. The decaying mansion, with its creaking floors and eerie silence, felt more like a tomb than a refuge. Everyone was on edge, the relentless pressure of the Pinkertons and the gang’s dwindling fortunes gnawing at whatever unity remained. The turning point came with the grisly death of Kieran Duffy. When his mutilated body was dragged into camp, tied to his horse, it shattered what little sense of security anyone still clung to. The haunting image of Kieran’s lifeless form, a brutal message from the O’Driscolls, left the gang shaken. Even the usual bravado from the likes of Bill and Micah faltered in the face of such savagery, and for a brief moment, the infighting paused as the gang mourned one of their own, however quietly. But the fear lingered—if Kieran wasn’t safe, who was?

As the weeks dragged on, Dutch’s plans became more erratic, his once-charismatic confidence feeling more like desperation. Angelo Bronte’s dealings, initially promising a path to wealth and safety, proved only to deepen the gang’s entanglement with dangerous, powerful people. Bronte’s betrayal stung sharply—handing John, Arthur, and the others over to the law during a supposed “opportunity” shook Dutch’s trust in anyone outside the gang. But instead of reevaluating his approach, Dutch doubled down, spinning grandiose tales of salvation through bigger and riskier schemes. The trolley station job in Saint Denis found its way into Dutch's psyche, a chaotic, poorly executed heist that left innocent people dead and brought even more heat on the gang. Each step forward felt like walking deeper into quicksand, and the growing tension within the group became harder to ignore. Whispers of dissent began to ripple through camp, and even those loyal to Dutch couldn’t help but wonder if the man they followed was starting to lose his way.

John’s loyalty to Dutch had always been steadfast, but the cracks were beginning to show. Over the past few weeks, he’d watched Dutch grow more erratic, his plans becoming more reckless and his speeches less inspiring, more desperate. Late at night, as the swamp around Shady Belle hummed with the sounds of crickets and frogs, John found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, questioning everything. But even with his doubts, John clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Dutch could still turn it all around.

It was you who broke the silence one evening as you sat together in the quiet of your shared room upstairs. “John,” you began, your voice quiet but firm, “we can’t keep living like this. Dutch isn’t the same, and he’s draggin’ us all down with him. We need to leave—while we still can.”

He looked at you sharply, his brow furrowing as his grip tightened on the edge of his seat. “Leave?” he repeated, his voice low and hesitant. “Where the hell would we even go? You think Dutch is just gonna let us walk away?”

You reached out, your hand resting on his arm as you met his uncertain gaze. “We don’t have to tell him, we don't have to tell anybody. We just go."

John’s jaw tightened as he looked at you, his voice low but sharp. “Ain’t you just a little ungrateful for what Dutch has given you? You’d still be back in that O'Driscoll hellhole if it weren’t for him, or worse."

You shot him a glare, your tone firm as you replied, “I’m not ungrateful, John, but what he gave me back then doesn’t excuse the things he’s doing now—you know that as well as I do, and it's insulting that you'd suggest otherwise!" Your cheeks were burning up, your heart rate erratic as your frustration threatens to boil over.

John exhaled sharply, his jaw still tight as he avoided your gaze. “Alright, fine—I shouldn’t’ve said it. But damn it, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

You reached for his hand, your voice trembling but full of conviction as you whispered, “John, I love you, and I can’t keep watching this life tear you apart—we can leave, start fresh, and finally have the future we deserve.” His eyes searched yours, torn between the weight of his loyalty and the hope shining in your words, as you tightened your grip, pleading softly, “Please, come with me.”

John froze, his breath hitching as your words sank in, his usual calm unraveling into something raw and uncertain. His eyes widened slightly, flicking between yours as if searching for a hint of jest, but all he found was sincerity. “You… want that? With me?” he asked, his voice low and tinged with disbelief, like he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea. The vulnerability in his tone, so unlike his usual confidence, made your chest ache. You brought your hand up to run your fingers along his jaw, grounding truth into your answer.

He sighed, shaking his head as if trying to push away the thought, but you saw the flicker of agreement in his eyes. “I don’t know, darlin’. Leaving, it’s… dangerous.”

“Staying is dangerous,” you pressed gently, your voice softening. “And you know it.”

For a long moment, he sat there, his jaw working as he weighed your words. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained grim. “Alright,” he said quietly. “We’ll start thinkin’ on it. But if we’re gonna do this, we gotta be smart about it. No mistakes.”

You squeezed his arm, a glimmer of hope sparking in your chest despite the risk. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

John didn’t smile, but his hand covered yours, a silent promise that he’d see this through—for you to finally be free. “And for the record,” John murmured, his voice low and filled with his usual tender warmth as his hand moved to cup your cheek, “there’s nothin’ I want more than a future with you, too."

-

The next morning, you awoke to the faint rustle of camp already bustling around you, the space beside you in John’s bedroll cold and empty. A sinking feeling settled in your chest as Miss Grimshaw passed by and casually mentioned that John had ridden out early on one of Dutch’s errands, his return time uncertain.

Later, you sat on a stool in Sadie’s corner of the mansion, her fingers deftly weaving your hair into a neat braid as the smell of coffee from your mug and damp wood lingered in the air. “I just don’t know what we’re doing anymore,” you said quietly, breaking the silence, your voice barely rising above the soft creak of the old floorboards. “Every plan Dutch has feels like it’s getting us deeper into trouble. It’s like he’s trying to chase something we can’t catch, and I’m scared we’re all going to pay for it.” Your hands fidgeted in your lap as you stared out at the foggy swamp, your chest tight with unease.

Sadie hummed thoughtfully, her hands pausing for a moment before she resumed braiding. “You ain’t the only one who’s worried,” she said, her tone calm but sharp, like the edge of a blade. “Dutch talks big, but it don’t feel the same anymore, does it? Here’s the thing, though—you don’t owe him every piece of yourself. You got people who care about you, and you gotta think about them—and about you.” Her fingers moved steadily, the braid coming together as she spoke. “When the time comes, you do what you need to do, and don’t you feel bad about it for a second. Loyalty’s a fine thing, but it don’t mean throwin’ yourself into the fire for some bastard who’s already lost their way.” Her words hit you like a jolt of clarity, and as she tied off the braid, you couldn’t help but wonder if the time to make those choices was coming faster than you’d hoped.

[bloomzone]

🗝️.solitude is not a curse—it’s a gift.

In a world that often emphasizes the importance of social connections, friendships, and belonging, it’s easy to feel like being alone means something is wrong. The pressure to have a group of friends or to always be socially engaged can be overwhelming. But, the truth is, being alone without friends is completely ok ! or having no friends is not only okay—it can be a powerful and enriching experience. "Why" :

© bloomzone

The Value of Solitude

There is something incredibly liberating about having time to yourself. When you’re not constantly worried about fitting in, impressing others, or maintaining a social circle, you have the space to truly be yourself. Solitude allows you to focus on your passions, interests, and personal growth. It’s during these quiet moments of being alone that you discover your true self—your dreams, desires, and strengths.Some people think that without friends, they lack a sense of identity or purpose. But the reality is that your sense of worth doesn’t come from external sources like friends or social approval. It comes from within. When you are comfortable being alone, you begin to realize that your value isn't tied to the people around you—it's inherent, simply because you exist. The world is full of distractions, but being alone helps you reconnect with your soul and nurture your personal growth.

The Pressure of Friendships

Friendships can be beautiful, but they can also be challenging and exhausting. Sometimes, the pressure to be liked, understood, or to fit into a certain group can make you lose sight of who you really are. We might find ourselves pretending to be someone we’re not, just to keep up appearances or to avoid feeling isolated. But what happens when we step back from these pressures?By stepping away from the idea of needing friends to feel validated, you free yourself from those societal expectations. When you’re not trying to be “part of the group,” you get to live authentically. It’s okay if you don’t fit in with everyone (like me) or if you don’t have a best friend by your side every moment. What matters is that you are true to yourself and your journey.

Learning from Loneliness

It’s easy to assume loneliness is something to be avoided at all costs. But, in truth, loneliness can be a teacher. It allows you to explore your thoughts, confront your feelings, and learn to enjoy your OWN company. Some of the most successful and fulfilled people in history spent long periods alone, focused on their work, their craft, or their passion They used their solitude to build their dreams.embracing loneliness doesn’t mean you’re isolated from the world; it means you’re connecting with yourself. It’s a time for self-discovery and reflection. By spending time alone, you learn more about your own strengths, weaknesses, and desires. This self-awareness makes it easier to make thoughtful decisions about who you want to bring into your life, and it helps you set boundaries that allow you to protect your peace.

STORY TIIIIME !

In middle school, I didn’t have many friends. I was often alone, walking the halls between classes, and watching groups of people laughing and talking with one another. I wanted to be part of those groups, to feel included, but something always held me back. Maybe I wasn’t “cool” enough, or maybe I was just different from the others. Regardless, I felt like I was on the outside looking in. But the more I tried to fit in, the more I realized that maybe I didn’t belong there.(I used to fake reading a book or smthng when friends group pass by 🙋🏻‍♀️)In high school, things shifted. I realized I didn’t need friends to feel fulfilled. Sure, it was tough at first, feeling like I was walking alone. But in that space of solitude, I started focusing on my goals. I began waking up early to study, I started practicing my hobbies, and I even began learning new things like language. I found peace in my own company, and I realized that I could be my own source of support, encouragement, and joy.Now, I’m in a place where I am comfortable with myself. I don’t need constant validation from others to feel like I matter. I know who I am, and I’m proud of the person I’m becoming. And yes, I still wish sometimes that I had a group of friends to share moments with, but I no longer feel the pressure to have that in my life.I’ve learned that solitude is not a curse—it’s a gift (as I said in the title). It’s a space for me to grow, reflect, and build a future I’m excited about. I’m no longer afraid of being alone because I’ve learned to love the time I spend with myself.

The next time you feel like you're missing something or not enough, just pause and remember: the person who's been with you through it all is YOU. You don’t need a crowd to validate your worth because you’ve got your own back. And when those tough moments hit, look yourself in the eye, smile, and say, “You’ve got this.” Being on your own isn’t a problem—it’s a chance to become the best version of yourself xoxo !

[a-hazbin-spider]

Others are often so disappointed when he brings ‘boring’ life into things. Including interests of his, or- even Cherri had been less eager to hang out when he’d taken sobriety with more sincerity. He’d worried about telling anything like that for good reason. His whole persona he’d built was to sell others a good time and keep himself simple. This..? Nobody wanted this. Well, not until recent it would seem. He’s messy, complicated in all the most irritating ways. And had too much knowledge on sea life to be typical. But he thinks that’s a plus. Either way, his imagery isn’t one people tend to put in such wholesome scenarios.

Alastor’s comfort, his trust in the moment hadn’t been taken for granted. With Angel not liking his dirty laundry aired (which Al very well could Air something if he’d like) and finding a sense of peace in this for himself, he wouldn’t dream of letting a moment like this be blabbed about. Not that anyone would believe him even if he did. Intimacy like this was rare, and held a warmth to it that leaked pleasantly in his bones. He’s careful, testing any touch he’s unsure of. Clearly he knows what an unsung honor this is. At the same time, he finds that he’s benefitting from this too. More relaxed, comforted by the scent, and by the allowance to cuddle, to have a little tenderness.

When Alastor responds in kind to tell him that he’d died when he had, and how their lives had overlapped however shortly- it was oddly interesting to him. That and, he forgets sometimes, him being young like that, he never got to really age. And his position wasn’t great- he couldn’t help that he wonders sometimes what an average life would be. How glamorous even a civil kind of life could be.

“You got to be over thirty..! And ya got through tha’ crash, made it as an entertainer… that’s impressive. I’d lissen t’ more about that, if you’d let me.”

He sort of feels childish asking. But, normalcy- just about any kind one could think of, he can’t say he had insight. But, already Alastor made him remember not even his death was typical. How bout that.

“Mmh? Well, I dunno about that, I ain’t sure that nobody was too sad about it. One situation led to another, and next thing you know-”

One hand makes a vague ‘poof’-ing gesture. He would share if asked but… it is odd. Hearing someone talk about him like that. For someone who tries to laugh things off… this? Made his chest feel a little tight. Strange.

“I did everything I could, but it weren’t no surprise I ended up the way I did. Kinda wonder how long my body was buried in the snow before anyone found it.”

Angel feels a bit silly, telling him what is average outside of work. He’s sure he could find a tale or two- something for him. A brawl, helping Cherri out, fighting a vending machine- actually that last one was a lower moment for him, and the machine still kept his money for a baggie he didn’t get. Best leave that one out. But he really was, oddly enough. Kind of… boring. Not a thought he wanted to have. But one that held a little reality to it anyway.

Angel had every so often pet the hair- swiped it neatly aside, but other than that, he had practically started becoming a cushion for the stag. He’s bony, sure, but there’s a little softness to him, especially with his fur.

Not sure when it’d happened, the near cuddle he started, but he’d accidentally cozied up, a clicky rumble barely audible from his chest, and his cheek just hovering over Alastor’s shoulder, separated by his hand.

“Ah. Fat Nuggets was- I dunno what tha’ intention was but, Nuggs was… Val allowed me to have ‘em. I been raising my baby myself. I’m not sure where from, but I know tha’ poor thing tried to eat my pills pretty quick.” Not that Alastor asked for that much, oops. “Either way, born in a farm or not, glad I got someone so glad t’see me.”

Angel’s cheeks burn a little, but it was true, Fat Nuggets was the unconditional love that he wouldn’t ever take for granted. Might sound odd to others but he would die for that pig. Do whatever he could to keep Fat Nuggets safe and happy.

“Heh. Well. Y’got me there. When I died I guess it wasn’t very old. If’n I remember correct… if it was in… and I died in- yeah… I was bout twenty years old, I think. But I died in 1947. At least I’m pretty sure. Ain’t too far off from me, are ya? You probably died round my time, huh.”