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chibinasuu · 2 months ago

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Matched | Franky x Reader

Summary: Franky gave you a new arm after you lost yours in a battle Tags: hurt/comfort, depictions of canon-typical violence, limb-loss, GN but written with F!Reader in mind, no use of y/n

Steel clashed against steel as you desperately swung your sword, blocking the Marine Captain’s machete aiming for your neck.

You cursed loudly. You hated one-on-one combats.

It had been quite some time since you joined the Straw Hats as a chronicler, tasked with recording all of your adventures in a logbook that you were sure would one day become an epic legend told for generations to come.

But despite all of the battles you’d gone through during your journey with the crew, you found that you never really got used to it. You weren’t a fighter to begin with and you tended to avoid violence as much as possible.

You had gotten quite handy with a crossbow after extensive target practices with Usopp, but Zoro had insisted that you should learn short-range combat as well to defend yourself, just in case.

Well, turned out he was right, because “just in case” was happening right now.

Even after hours and hours of sparring with Zoro and Brook, the sword still felt awkward in your hands. You parried the Marine’s attacks, keeping your guards up.

Defense, defense, and defense. That was all you had been doing.

The Captain never let up his attacks, all of his moves going in for the kill.

Your stamina was running out. Each swing of your sword got heavier and heavier. Your arms were just about to give up when… There. Finally an opening.

You stepped your foot forward as you slashed your sword upward. The marine grunted as he stumbled backward, a deep gash now running from his abdomen to his left shoulder.

Your triumph was short-lived as the Captain’s grimace turned vicious. He called you a foul name before surging toward you, swinging his blade in unbridled fury.

His machete dug deep into the shoulder of your dominant arm, and you screamed in anguish as blinding pain overtook you. Your sword clattered to the ground. Blood gushed through the wound, but you refused to even look at it, knowing that you likely wouldn’t be able to stomach the gore.

You could only lie on the ground in defeat, with no strength left in you.

This is it, you thought. All of your crewmates were busy with their own battles. No one was coming to save you.

The blood loss made your head spin, and you felt your consciousness fading fast. The last thing you saw was the Captain’s ferocious grin as he brought his blade down to finish you off.

You were pretty sure you were hallucinating when you heard a distant shout of “Weapons Left!”

Right. It must’ve been just your wishful thinking that your knight in shining armor would come to your rescue.

You felt your tether to life slowly draining away, then everything went dark.

Bits and pieces of conversation flowed through your ears as you slipped in and out of consciousness.

“Calm down, Franky… stable now… Chopper did everything he could.”

“…my fault. If only I had come earlier…“

You still felt disoriented when you finally regained your awareness for good. You tried to open your eyes, but immediately shut them again as the bright light of the infirmary invaded your vision.

“You’re awake.” The familiar gravelly voice of your shipwright greeted you, accompanied by a long, shaky sigh of relief, “Let me grab Chopper.”

He was back in a flash with the ship’s doctor in tow. You were only half alert, lying still on the patient bed as Chopper listened to your heartbeat through his stethoscope, shone a light in each of your eyes, and did the rest of his mandatory checks.

When the doctor declared that everything seemed to be in good shape, Franky escorted the little reindeer out, muttering softly just out of your earshot, “You did well, bro. I’ll take it from here.”

Franky sat on a chair by your bedside, giving you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Hey,” You managed to croak out weakly, “What happened? How long was I out?”

“Well, we won the battle. You were heavily injured, but we managed to get you to Chopper in time.” He explained, “And you were out for three days—we’re well on our way to the next island now. The Marines’ backup gave up their pursuit yesterday after we used coup de burst to widen the distance.”

You took in his thorough explanation, but you couldn’t push away the nagging dread that he was still withholding some key details.

Your instinct turned out to be right when he cautiously asked, “Are you feeling any pain in your shoulder?”

“No…” You said hesitantly. The last thing you remembered was an unbearable pain running down your shoulder through your arm, but now, you couldn't feel anything at all. Your heart sank as the worst thought crossed your mind.

Your chest tightened as you quickly uncovered the blanket with your uninjured hand, and gasped in horror at the sight that greeted you.

Your breath came in quick and shallow as panic overtook you, hot tears welling up in your eyes.

“Franky, my arm.” You wailed, “Where’s my arm?!”

Violent sobs racked you as you repeated the words over and over in shock and disbelief. Franky pulled you into a tight hug, gently stroking your hair as he shushed you, “I know, I’m sorry. Chopper did his best, but he had to make the hard decision. It was either your arm or your life.”

A million different emotions rushed through you—from fear to denial, to anguish and grief. Franky held you through it all.

Your tears and snot were making a mess on his bare torso but neither of you cared.

After what felt like hours, the steadiness of his strong hands around you slowly led you into a somber calmness.

“Poor Chopper,” You mumbled into the cyborg’s chest, “He must’ve been a mess when he realized he needed to chop my arm off.”

Franky chuckled, “It’s so like you to think of others even in times like this.”

Amid the silence that followed, you couldn’t stop the creeping self-doubt that wormed into your head.

You were the crew’s chronicler and now you had lost your ability to write. Even if you trained your non-dominant hand, it would be a good while until you would be able to write again. What use would you be to the crew if you couldn’t write? You’d just be deadweight to them.

As if he could read your mind, Franky tipped your chin up with his fingers, “Hey, you know we wouldn’t love you less just because you had one less arm now, right?”

He held your face in between his large metal hands, forcing you to look at him as he firmly said, “This doesn’t make you less. You’re still our super chronicler no matter what.”

Your eyes flitted away from his intense gaze. You wanted to believe him. You knew his words rang true, but still, you found it difficult to accept.

At your heavy silence, he added, “Maybe I can build you a voice-activated robot that could write for you. Or heck, you can dictate your words to me and I’ll write it for you.”

That actually managed to coax a small smile out of you, but it wasn’t long until your eyes were filled with fresh tears.

“I want to write again, Franky.” You said in a small voice as you buried your face in his chest once more, “With my own hand.”

He stroked your hair slowly, “Well, I can’t give you back your arm, you know that.” You felt a soft kiss on the top of your head before he continued, “But I can make you a new one, if that’s what you wish.”

You looked up at him, “You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you, sugar.”

For the next few days, Franky locked himself up in his workshop, only coming out for meals and bathroom breaks. The guys noticed that he didn’t return to the boys’ quarters at nights, and they wondered if he was even sleeping at all.

Meanwhile, you were steadily recovering under Chopper’s meticulous care. You could even bear the sight of your missing arm now without bursting into tears.

The doctor helped you adapt to your non-dominant hand through small exercises like brushing your teeth, and feeding yourself the soup that Sanji made for you.

One night, you heard a knock on the infirmary’s door.

“Come in!”

Franky poked his head in and grinned, “How’s my favorite chronicler doing today?”

“Why, if it isn’t my favorite shipwright!” You chuckled, “I’m doing better, I guess.”

“I got a surprise for you,” He said as he entered the room. He was carrying a long item, wrapped in pristine sailcloth.

He sat by your bed and pulled the shroud away, unveiling what he had been tirelessly working on the past few days.

The disembodied arm looked, for lack of better words, human. He got your skin tone exactly right, and when you ran your fingers over it, the surface felt eerily similar to human skin. The only part left bare was the shoulder joint.

Franky saw you eyeing all of the metal parts and wires sticking out of it.

“Ah, we can cover that up with the synthetic skin, once we attach it to you.” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, “Although I still need to figure out a way to make the covering easily removable, so we can do regular maintenance.”

He made a point by popping open the panel on his own red and bulbous shoulder. You stared in wonder at the complex wiring of the inside of his arm, marveling at the genius of this man in front of you.

You turned your sight toward the rest of him, for once taking in the various metal parts that made him, him. You never really bothered to scrutinize the details—it had never mattered much to you. For you, he had always just been… Franky.

You traced your eyes over his mechanical arms and hands, the metallic parts that ran from the middle of his thighs down to his ankles, and of course, his cute metal nose that you just loved to press out of nowhere to mess with his hair.

You had never seen a more beautiful and magnificent man.

Shame suddenly rushed through you for ever doubting yourself and thinking of yourself as less just because you lost an arm. Here was a cyborg standing before you, and yet you had never known someone more human than him.

You looked again at the prosthetic arm Franky made you, touched that he was doing all this for you.

“It looks amazing, Franky.” You told him as the tears you were trying to hold back finally spilled over and slid down your cheeks, “Thank you.”

“I’m super glad to hear that.” He grinned, "And don't worry, I'll figure something out for the shoulder. I promise, once it's attached, you won't even notice it's made out of metal."

You smiled softly at him, "Actually…”

Franky’s grin widened as he listened to your request, “Sure, doll. If that’s really what you want.”

Franky stood behind you as you stared at your reflection, admiring your new limb.

Your shoulder was now capped with a red, metal guard—easily removable for maintenance access, of course. A yellow stripe wrapped around the middle, with a star and “BF-14106” written on it in bold lettering. Franky had modeled it to fit the rest of the arm perfectly, tastefully compact and not bulky at all.

You grinned and gazed into Franky's eyes through the mirror, “Look, we match.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

You admired the arm some more, before Franky turned you to face him, asking you to test out the motoric movements under his guidance.

He asked you to make a fist, then to open it, then to wiggle your fingers. He asked you to bend your elbow, to raise your arm, and then put it back down. A series of other movements followed until lastly, he offered you a quill and a parchment. You hesitated for a second, but took the quill at his nod of encouragement.

Your whole body trembled—with nerves, yes, but mostly in excitement.

You dipped the quill into the ink, then carefully guided it across the parchment to write your name. Your movement was slow and awkward, and your script was far from neat, but you couldn’t stop the tears of joy from flowing. With a bit of practice, you'd be ready to fill up your notebooks again with thrilling tales of the Straw Hats' adventures.

“Oh, Franky! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You leaped at him and he readily caught you. His laughter echoed alongside yours as he spun you around despite the tight space of the infirmary, only putting you down after nearly toppling Chopper’s chair over.

You grabbed his face in between your hands and peppered his cheeks with loud kisses.

At times like this, Franky wished he could switch off his receptors at will, because try as he might, he couldn’t prevent his whole face from going bright red at your affection.

A few days later, Franky checked up on you in the library as you practiced your handwriting over and over again on a piece of parchment.

Your script had gotten much better, and gone was the awkwardness of using your new cyborg arm. As expected of Franky's handicraft, it truly felt as if it was your own.

"Hey," Franky called out, "Arm's okay?"

"It's perfect!" You beamed, "Thanks again, Franky. I owe you tons."

Franky shook his head and smiled softly, letting you know for the thousandth time that you didn't owe him anything.

Your eyes went to your shoulder, once again studying the "BF-14106" painted there. You had told Franky that you wanted the same markings as his, but he had chosen those numbers himself.

Your curiosity finally won out this time as you asked the cyborg, "Hey, Franky, if you’re BF-37, and General Franky’s 38, shouldn’t I be… BF-39? Why this long string of numbers? Do they mean anything?”

Franky looked away from you and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, his face tinted with a pink hue, “Ah… it's a secret. I’ll tell you someday.”

Looking at his reaction, an inkling of what it might mean suddenly popped into your head. You felt your cheeks heat up as your mind connected the dots, but you stayed silent.

You’d wait until he was ready.

And when he was, and if it was indeed what you suspected, you’d readily say it back.

a/n: this fic had been sitting in my drafts for months, but i finally decided to finish it in time for franky's birthday! i've been hesitant to share this fic since it's quite outside my comfort zone, and i'm still not confident that i was able to convey all the feelings properly, but i hope you enjoyed reading this anyway <3

╰┈➤ masterlist

#happy birthday to my favorite cyborg!!!#i wish more people write about you 😔#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #cyborg franky #one piece franky #op franky #franky one piece #franky x reader #franky x you #cyborg franky x reader #cyborg franky x you #op franky x reader #one piece fanfic #op fanfic #chibinasuu fics

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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

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Lips Brushing

(Image Source)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here

Word Count: 5,182 (Yeah, "drabble" I say)

@alphaash99 offered this snail a piece of lettuce cut into hearts and stars. I had no choice.

PLOT: Sanji is in a relationship with the ship’s chronicler. After Zoro was invited to take a front row seat at witnessing their intimacy within the kitchen as the crew docked to resupply, Sanji can’t get the thought of watching the swordsman please you the way he does.

Warnings: Smut, f!reader, voyeurism, mdni, p in v, oral f receiving, "good girl" gendered term used, consent, throuple chemistry, “Hime” - Princess.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 , @vespidphoenix @alphaash99 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun

For the following weeks, the three of you would find any excuse you could to join together away from the remaining members of the crew. If there was a need to resupply food at a nearby town, the chronicler, the chef and the booze-headed swordsman were required to go together. If the swordsman was in need of buying items used to sharpen and maintain his swords, Sanji would be in tow to get a new sharpening stone for his kitchen knives where you would be required to tally the amount of crew finances needed balancing within your logbook.

Those things did end up working quite well for the three of you, very useful to have the three of you managing yourselves in such an easy rapport. But these things only occurred after Zoro’s eyes met with yours as Sanji pleasured you in all ways he knew how. In an alleyway, in a cheap inn for the afternoon, on the beach away from other prying eyes, in a public booth at a tavern taking residence in a corner booth; all hands, tongues, lips and Sanji’s pretty cock.

Aboard the ship itself lies the problem. Barely being able for you and Sanji to make yourself scarce to enact your lewd fantasies in the arms of one another, let alone the other member of this unusual dynamic you found yourself within. Zoro and Sanji both had an intense rivalry, although, in this particular set of circumstances, found teamwork in chaperoning you throughout the halls to watch you come undone within the chef’s skilled hands.

Zoro adored watching the lights dance behind your half-hooded eyes, your lips parted and soft moans and mewls exitted your mouth in soft utterances of Sanji’s name. He could barely contain himself, white knuckles gripping the surfaces close to him to restrain his empathetic pleasure at witnessing your post coital bliss. As the warm flush arose after the final after waves of your orgasm crashed over you; he adored watching your eyes meet his with a sense of warm pride and accomplishment - only after you would shower your lover with the rightful praise he deserved.

Sanji also found himself feeling some foreign emotions. Having Zoro in the same room as him drove him to perform more skillfully, chase your highs with more precision, and worship your body with more showered adoration. His favorite part to witness was, however pleasurable the experience he encountered with you was, when you would meet Zoro’s eyes with a love-struck, fucked-out expression you used to favor for only his eyes. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt like you were gloating about his accomplishments in front of his shipwide rival; wearing it like a badge of honor as he splashed your needy walls with ribbons of his hot cum.

And he couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to be on the receiving end of such an expression. Would it bring you closer? Would it feel as blissful as it did while you were riding him? Would he, like Zoro, cum immediately with little to no stimulation.

He simply had to know.

However, a factor remained in play that he did not know quite how to address. You and Zoro had never truly allowed yourselves to touch romantically - a forehead touch, Zoro placing a kiss on your forehead as Sanji delivered on his promise of aftercare.

Zoro liked to watch, not to engage. And Sanji needed to change that.

You were sitting cross legged on the deck, basking under the rays forming beneath the rising morning sun. The waves swayed the ship as you tapped your pencil within the pages, your eyes darting out as you continued to take your watch shift and take note of any irregularities. You glanced back down onto the pages of your notebook, the silhouette of your beloved chef adorning the dotted pages with his shadow.

You looked up, eyes softening as he presented your coffee to you with an extended hand. Shooting you a playful wink, you reciprocated with your eyes searching his own with a wordless expression of gratitude and adoration. You took the mug from him and placed it beside you as you continued to look over your words within the pages.

Looking further down within the coarse pages, you flipped over the page and began to journal the timetable for the upcoming shore expedition; drawing a small swirl to indicate some time with your chef scheduled within its pages. Sanji plonked himself at your side, circling his arm around your shoulders and began placing a trail of kisses against your upper arm.

“Sanji,” you giggled, swatting at him with your notebook, “Sanji, I’m trying to work.” He hummed in response, trailing up to place several kisses against your shoulder and bringing his lips over to your neck.

“Sanji, someone will see,” you commented with surprise written over your face. You turned to him, folding your book in half while wedging the pencil within its pages. His eyes were dark, playfully twinkling in his blown pupils. He brushed the back of his fingertips gently over your jaw, ushering your chin into him and placing the beginning of a slow and deliberate kiss against your lips. Your lips curled into a smile, eyes wide in shock at his unrestrained expression of love and lust: your situationship not yet, you assume, common knowledge to the rest of the Straw-Hat crew - aside from the third member of this unusual dynamic.

The third member, who had just begun his slow ascension to join you above deck; his footfalls halting as he witnessed the slow and romantic kiss expressed between you. Although he had been invited to watch you two engage with each other prior to this: this felt more taboo to witness than any expression of lust. This was love, he was certain of it. He was about to turn and make a miserable descent below decks once more, halting only at the sound of his name pouring like molasses from the lips of the chef.

“Have you ever thought about fucking Zoro?” Sanji asked you between slow kisses, relishing in the small squeak rising in your lips, along with your full body halting its reciprocation of Sanji’s passion in rigid stupefaction.

“Sanji, what are you-,” you began, silenced by a deeper and sweeter kiss placed against your lips. His lips entangled effortlessly with yours, romancing your heart with its gentle, yet firm clasp. He moved his hand to the back of your neck, massaging the flesh beneath his splayed fingertips to lessen your burden from the prior night watch.

“Dove,” he began after removing his lips from yours. He met your eyes with a seriousness you had not seen within them for some time. You were entranced within his glance, hanging onto his every breath as he uttered the unspoken confession he so desperately wanted to share with you.

“Dove, I want to watch you fuck Zoro.”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting as a gasp fled from your lips. Watching the lustful look Sanji was throwing at you was as tantalizing as tasting an indulgent dessert Sanji had prepared just for you. He meant every word he spoke, nothing withheld in his desire to watch you come undone on Zoro’s cock.

Mind racing with a thousand unspoken thoughts; never once in the weeks this dynamic had begun had you ever pictured yourself with anyone other than Sanji. He was your man, and you his woman: although neither of you had ever spoken this aloud to one another. Without realizing it, you had begun subtly shaking your head at the notion, prompting Sanji to nod with a sly smile attached to his playful lips.

“Sanji, I don’t know what you want me to say,” you confessed, eyes spiraling in searching between his gray eyes and darting down to witness the end of the balled piercing attached to Sanji's oral frenulum as he danced it within his teeth.

“Say-...” he began, pressing his forehead against your own with his eyes crinkled in a playful smile, “...-Say: ‘I want to fuck Zoro while you watch, Sanji.’ That’s all I want to hear departing from your pretty lips.”

Zoro was held in stasis, unable to make a sound, movement or take a single breath as he overheard every word spoken between you and your lover. He waited in the shadows of the morning, holding firm in his position within the doorframe leading to the lower decks. Patiently, he held strong and firm against the wooden frame to hear what he never thought possible spring into the light from your lips.

“I want to fuck Zoro while you watch, Sanji.”

“That’s my girl,” Sanji praised you, pressing a chaste kiss atop the tip of your nose before reaching down and claiming your notebook within his skilled hands. You remained stunned in your expression, hands shaking after speaking aloud this confession.

Sanji furrowed his brows, his tongue flicking out to dampen his lower lip in concentration as he scribbled within its pages. He nodded once he had completed what he sought out to do within your chroniclers’ journal, closing the book and placing it within your outstretched hand.

“Your coffee is getting cold, Dove,” he uttered lovingly, pressing a chaste kiss against your hair before standing from his position beside you. You blinked rapidly, still processing exactly what was uttered between you. You had yet to even kiss Zoro, not realizing that was an element of the relationship permitted to be expressed between you. Should you kiss him first? Should you kiss him with Sanji? How was everything meant to go within this dynamic-?

“-Let’s see if it’s something he’s keen for first, hm? Maybe start with a kiss without me?” Sanji called over his shoulder as he made his way back to the kitchen, “Maybe you won’t even enjoy it that much. Stupid Marimo wouldn’t even know what to do with you, I think.”

You darted your startled eyes in front of you, wide in surprise: eyes meeting and reflected in the startled expression of the tri-sword wielding first mate. Meeting his eyes startled you more, your warm flush rising against your cheeks before you tore your eyes away from the two men. You shook your head as you heard Sanji’s feet descending away from you towards the kitchen, opening your journal to the page it was priorly set on. Next to the small schedule of a swirl for Sanji, a crude drawing of three sticks with thick ends lay directly beside the swirl.

Sanji had everything already planned in his mind: mapping out exactly when he wanted you and the swordsman to fuck in front of him. You dropped your notebook, your eyebrows higher than they ever had been with you attempting to bite back a broad grin at the prospect of such an encounter.

Heavy boots stepped onto the deck in front of you, a sound you had become accustomed to trailing behind you and Sanji as you crept into hidden places with one another. You sucked in a shaken breath, not truly anticipating what exactly was going to depart from the swordsman’s lips.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want you, ya’ know?” were the first words spoken from the green-haired knight in front of you, “I won’t force you or nothin’.” You shook the shock away from your face before looking up to the tall man in front of you.

“Good morning to you, Zoro,” you said, disregarding his words and plastering a wide smile in welcoming him to the day, “How did you sleep?” He huffed out a breath that sounded like a laugh and crouched in front of you.

“G’ Morning to you too,” his smirk rose to the corner of his lips, dancing his eyes between yours as you lazily held your grin against your lips. A warm hue of pink dusting found its way to lay against the speckled cheeks of the green-haired swordsman, him leaning lower in his crouch and placing a hand beside your head to stabilize himself in front of you.

“Can I kiss you?” His brow arched upwards as his words raised at the end of his question. You huffed out a light laugh in surprise, looking between his two hazelnut orbs as you nodded in answering the question. Zoro shook his head as he leant forwards, “No, Hime. You gotta say ‘yes’. Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathily uttered, feeling the whisper of a caress almost crashing atop your lips.

“Good girl,” were the final words spoken before Zoro claimed your lips within his. His scratched and chapped lips danced atop yours with a brutal intensity; out of practice in an oscillation of the like for some time. He was a man starving, seeking out any affection you were willing to reciprocate with him. His brow furrowed in deep intensity as he fell to his knees in front of you, clasping his palms over your jaw as he began to deepen the kiss as if the spell of your reciprocation was to be broken away at any moment.

Another squeak of shock parted from your lips as he continued to press feverish kisses against your lips. Everything about this kiss was different than Sanji’s: your blond chef’s lips soft, slow and romantic. This swordsman was another beast entirely. His desperation at witnessing you within the thralls of passion with the chef had him more built up than he originally thought.

As he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his danced between you as his lust-blown eyes met with yours once more.

“How long until the next port, chronicler?” he asked you, panting and breathless.

“Four hours, swordsman,” you responded in a similar likeness. The strand broke between you, Zoro moving his hand from your cheek to dance his thumb over your bottom lip to remove the small droplet departing from his lips onto your own. He chuckled, feeling your breath hitch at such a motion.

“Sorry, Hime,” he chuckled, a bashful smile warming his face with its presence, “it’s just been a while since I-... Well... It’s just been a while.” You smiled up at him, eyes warm with affection. You leant forward, pressing your forehead against his and shutting your eyes.

“Just four more hours, Zoro,” you whispered, breaking contact between you and picking up your coffee, which was now lukewarm, and taking a sip.

Unbeknownst to you, Sanji remained hidden in safety behind the door to the kitchen. Having witnessed the entire exchange, his face was completely hued with the tint of bright and vibrant red; a trickle of blood seeping from his nose down his chin, cradled by the back of his hand.

“If this is them kissing,” he whispered to himself with a broad grin dancing against his lips, “I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the whole act.”

-.-.-.-.-.

Four long and excruciating hours passed with incredible haste, especially with Zoro offering so valiantly to take the remainder of your watch shift for you to find rest in your bedroom. Your rapidly beating heart did calm down just enough for your body to relax into a dreamless slumber, waking at the gentle shake of Sanji’s hands brushing your shoulders.

“We’re here, Dove,” he whispered, pressing his lips against your forehead, “Are you ready to go, or do you want to give this expedition a miss?” You shot up in your bed, flinging the duvet from your body and swinging your legs off the edge of the bed to hook around Sanji’s hips. You pulled him against yourself, reaching up to circle your arms around his neck and wrangle him onto your bed with you beneath him.

He chuckled, allowing you to drag him down and onto yourself as you placed a series of peck-like kisses onto his shoulders and neck; seasoning the chef with speckled peppered caresses.

“Easy now, love,” Sanji chuckled, halting your kisses with the gentle brush of your hair away from your brow, “Keep that up, and you won’t get to have the swordsman.” Your face flushed at the notion, searching his eyes for any final semblance of doubt and finding only giddy anticipation and adoration in it’s place.

“Okay,” you confirmed, nodding while undoing the skilled weave of your body from around the chef’s, “Let’s go.”

It was as easy as any other time to convince them of the need to split the party: Nami, Usopp and Luffy in one party; you, Sanji and Zoro in the other. Nami was also convinced this was the best way for the split, noticing how relaxed and the ease of tension from the two usually conflicting members of the crew balancing with you as the key element propelling them.

Within the room of a tavern, booked and paid in full by Sanji using his own, personal, berry; your heart beat with anticipation as you were led by the hand of your lover with the green-haired swordsman trailing behind you as usual. What was not usual, was the way Sanji chaperoned you within the wall and practically threw Zoro at you as soon as the door closed.

If he could, he would’ve grabbed both you and Zoro by the back of the head and forced your lips to meet in a passionate entanglement; all the while shimmying down your pants, flinging off your top and watching your chest bounce their perfect breasts as soon as they were freed from their confines.

Instead, he calmly went and sat at the dining table within the room, opened his tobacco pouch and began rolling the dried leaves within the wafer-thin paper. He fished out a slim filter, placing it within the end of the fold and rolled the leaves within it, using his pierced tongue to seal the paper together, placing the filter between his lips and fished out his lighter.

Zoro and you remained stagnant in your movements, not entirely knowing where to start with this encounter but both feeling a rise of apprehensive anticipation. Sanji scoffed, flicking the flint of his lighter to ignite the flame and inhaling the nicotine-riddled smoke.

“Are you just going to stand there gawking at one another,” he uttered with his exhale, blowing the smoke away from your face, “Or do I need to tell you what to do, Marimo?” The tension rose, now anger depicted rather than sexual frustration.

“You shut your damn mouth, Shit-Cook,” Zoro growled in return, halting as you placed your hand against his forearm and pulling back his attention to you. His gaze fluttered between your eyes, dancing down to your mouth briefly before you leant upwards and pressed your lips against his. Slowly and deliberately, you guided his lips to move against your own as you reached up and began prying his jacket away from his shoulders.

He groaned against your lips, shimmying down the material to reveal his scarred chest to you. Unbreaking from the kiss, you danced your fingers over his chest, tracing the scars and scanning over his muscles as if they were written in raised braille: reading all of the emotion depicted within the pages of Zoro’s muscular torso. He placed his hands over your own, removing them from his chest to begin stripping you of your clothes, staring with your blouse; then immediately following with your bra.

Zoro wasted no time, continuing to place kiss after kiss against every piece of flesh he had access to as he removed each element of your clothing. As his lips attached themselves to your neck, he began fiddling with your belt and hoisted your pants below your hips and began to hastily rid you of them.

“Slowly,” Sanji’s voice called over, breaking you from your lustful trance as you sought out the eyes of your lover. His pupils were blown, eyes were glazed and the smallest hue of red had sprung already from his nose and dusted the floor with a few drops of blood.

Sanji was as worked up as you were; his eyes intense with a violent longing while experiencing empathetic bliss from witnessing something as simple as being undressed by another man - that man, his rival. Zoro grunted, looking up and seeking your face; witnessing your longing glance at your lover; truly feeling how it was to be sought out with such a glance. Immediately, he was mesmerized, now completely fixated on taking his time with you to watch your face contort with pleasure he could bring you.

Immediately, Zoro dropped to his knees; his torso perpendicular to your stomach and placing open-mouthed kisses against your belly and hips. Your breath hitched, your head thrown back, as he slowly dragged your pants from your thighs, over your knees, down to your ankles before prying them off completely. Your core was already throbbing with a shameful amount of glistening arousal at the thought of your lover watching you as you engaged with another - this other being the swordsman who had come to long for you from afar.

You were uncertain which aspect of this dynamic had your head spinning, knees quaking and core throbbing more: Zoro now performing these acts for the first time, Sanji watching you for the first time; or Zoro fucking you for the first time while Sanji watched. Without warning, Zoro curved his index and middle fingers of his right hand within your folds, collecting the glistening strings of arousal from within them and withdrawing them from you. He held them in front of him, his jaw dropping at the amount of arousal pouring from your body.

“I-Is she-...” Sanji’s voice stuttered, him leaning forward on the table to eagerly get a better view of the situation. Zoro chuckled, smirking up at you as you looked down at him.

“You already ready for me, Hime?” Zoro’s rumbled voice purred at you, the expression alone having more heat rise to your abdomen and release fresh waves of arousal to coat your thighs. Zoro raised again from his crouched position, hooked his arm behind your knees and hoisted you over his shoulder. Unceremoniously, he flung you against the mattress of the room; shuffling his pants below his hips and dropping them to the floor without a second warning.

He was bigger than Sanji. Of course he was bigger than Sanji. Although similar in height; Sanji was slender, gentle with a small waist and strong legs. Everything about the swordsman was hard and angry: his cock being no exception to this rule. Tufts of green hair splayed carelessly against the base of his shaft, a small happy trail leading down from his stomach to his cock: standing proudly to attention, and loyally waiting to receive its orders. You quickly looked over to see Sanji, who was hunched over the table now with his eyes eagerly fixated on yours.

Quickly training your eyes over his body, you saw a proud tent formed against the dark pants attached to the hips of your blond lover. You danced your focus between them, beckoning for Sanji to rise from the table and come over to the bed beside you both.

You reached up and danced your hands over Zoro’s hips, tracing your fingertips delicately over his throbbing cock; the shaft bobbing and twitching while his knob pulsed and shone with anticipation. The smallest bead of precum began leaking from the slit, both you and Zoro as equally pent up at the aspect of joining your bodies together. You thought back to the first time he had caught you and Sanji, your body caged beneath your blond chef as he thrust and ground his hips into yours.

Guiding the swordsman to kneel on the bed, you crawled backwards; your hair splaying out against the pillows beneath you as you continued to chaperone his large body over your own. Sanji continued to hold firm his eyes on your body, watching every small hitch of breath and elevation of hair follicle in response to a rumbled growl from the man above you. He had never seen something so beautiful in his life; no longer wondering why the swordsman was infatuated with watching you receive pleasure from a lover.

Sanji knelt beside the bed, watching as you grasped the shaft of the swordsman above you and slowly raked his tip between your folds, guiding your slickening arousal up and danced the tip over your swollen clit. Both Zoro and your breath hitched as you pumped your hand over his cock, keeping the pressure briefly against your clit as you both closed your eyes and furrowed your brows at the feeling.

You pulled back the shaft to expose more of his throbbing tip before raking it over your quivering hole and guiding it slowly within your entrance. The three of your voices moaned in unison, Zoro’s brows furrowing as he focussed on experiencing the feeling he had been witnessing you and Sanji involve yourself with over the weeks prior.

“Z-Zoro, you’re really big,” you whimpered, your walls taking a small moment to stretch to accommodate for his girth. Your brows furrowed as your jaw fell slack, wincing as you ushered more of him into you - his hips slowly descending onto your own from his position above you. Sanji remained beside you, keeping his eyes hyper focussed on yours as his cock twitched and grazed the material of his briefs beneath his pants.

“You can take it, Dove,” Sanji’s hushed whisper had your eyes snap to meet with his, blown with lust and gripping the sheets within his firm grasp. Zoro groaned as he felt your walls begin to relax around him, slowly impaling you with his entire length. You shuddered as the patch of green met against your clit, his cock twitching within your walls and throbbing with anticipation as you continued to adjust to his size.

You turned your face once more to meet with Zoro’s gazing up through half-hooded eyes and mewling as he began to slowly drag his cock outside of your walls, only to slide it agonizingly slow back within them again. He was huffing out puffs of staggered breaths, relishing in feeling fully sheathed within you.

“Oh F-Fuck,” Zoro’s voice stuttered as he dropped his face into your neck, “I didn’t know it’d-... hgnnh-... feel this good.” You whimpered against him, desperately grinding your hips up into him. His hand staggered down to claim your thighs beneath him, hooking your knees over his hips and beginning to rock a steady rhythm against your core.

You cried out as Zoro’s cock immediately began bullying the sensitive underside of your clit, hitting the spot within you that immediately had your walls clenching around his cock and crying his name in bliss.

“Zoro-... h-ah-...” you whimpered, the dance of your winding and rapidly approaching orgasm beginning to spiral and coil within the pit of your belly, “-How are you doing that-?” you choked between cries of bliss. Zoro continued to slap his hips steadily against your own, chasing his own pleasure while attempting to halt his hastened pace. He didn’t want to cum without you, but the feeling was so overwhelming - especially being so long without an encounter of the like.

“You feel-... ngmnf-... you feel so fucking good,” Zoro complimented you before his eyes began rolling as he focussed hard on not spilling his seed within you. You reached up, claiming fistfulls of his mossy hair between your fingers and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him as close as you could. You felt the cool drag of his earrings against your cheek as he nuzzled his face further into your neck.

You began to feel the rapid, staggered motion of his hips; feeling the way his hips met your own with a rapid and bruising pace. Your walls immediately began their steady thump, your toes curling as your peak began to blind you with its intensity. The warm tingle of your soul dancing beneath your skin began to shoot sparks down your body, igniting the final rise of your orgasm before you gave out your final warning.

“Zoro-... I-... fuck-... I’m cumming,” you barely had time to verbalize your vocal cry before your walls sucked him inwards, holding his cock within your walls. Zoro immediately shot his hot load within you, reveling in the feeling of your staggered and unbridled movements as your back arched off the bed beneath him.

“Fuck me-... I-I’m cumming-... oh f-fuck-... I’m cumming in you,” he growled, chasing the final waves of his orgasm as he painted his load deep within your walls. He cried your name, praying before you and worshiping the afterwaves of your walls twitching around him as you both came down from your highs.

“Merde-... o-oh, oh sh-shit,” you heard a voice call beside you, watching as you both chased your highs and rode the waves of your mutual orgasms.

You smoothed your hands over Zoro’s hair, rubbing his shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss against his temple. He chuckled against your neck, pressing his lips against your skin - feeling a large and wolf-like grin rise against his cheeks as he did so.

You angled your head over, seeking out your cigarette smoking chef; eyes meeting with the most feral sight you had ever seen in your life.

Sanji was a mess. His nose trailing red from the amount of blood rising to swell his head, his knuckles gripping the sheets so hard the material stretched and frayed beneath his fingernails. His eyes held a foreign shock to them, his lips parted as his jaw fell slack. You quickly pushed Zoro’s body off of you, unsheathing him from your core so fast he almost cried out in sorrow from the relinquishment of such warmth surrounding his rapidly reducing cock.

“Sanji, honey are you okay?” You asked, your eyes flashing with concern as you grasped his cheeks within your palms, “Sweetheart, talk to me. Are you okay-?”

“-I just came,” Sanji managed to stutter out with an amazing rapidity. Shock knit over your face, looking to where his hands had remained firmly grasping the sheets. You cocked your head to the side, searching behind his eyes for further explanation.

“You just-,” you began, only to have Zoro interrupt your words with a loud and unrestrained chuckle.

“I know, right?” he managed to say once he stifled his laughter, looking over to the chef’s disheveled appearance, “Now you get why I like watching.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #sanji #zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #black leg sanji #black leg sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #smut #sanji smut #zoro smut

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processxe · 2 years ago

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How Electronic Logbooks Work in Pharmaceutical Industry?

What is an Electronic Logbook?

In the pharmaceutical industry, electronic logbooks, also known as eLogBooks or e-logs, have been in use for quite some time. Several manufacturers have employed software to monitor equipment, production, and the manufacturing of raw materials and finished products. By eliminating the need for paper documents, eLogBooks help reduce paper usage. They also enhance visibility into production processes, automate data collection to minimize manual data entry, implement risk management protocols, establish standardized performance metrics, improve compliance with regulatory standards, centralize data for analysis, and streamline inventory management.

Furthermore, how exactly do electronic logbooks work? We will go through how electronic logbooks function and why it is critical for pharmaceutical, life sciences, and biotech organizations to use them.

How Do Electronic Logbooks Work?

An e-logbook is a programmed that keeps track of logbook activity online. To hold logbook entries such as manufacturing equipment usage and maintenance, cleaning, calibration, repairs, and other equipment-related operations, an eLogbook does not require paper. Instead, data is collected through a mobile app or browser. As a result, the risks associated with handling paper logbooks are eliminated, including human mistake, degraded data integrity, compliance risk, and transcriptional errors.

Every entry may be readily documented using eLogbooks. Entries to the electronic logbook are stored automatically with the necessary authorizations. This functionality outperforms paper logbook storage, which is often forgotten or lost due to natural reasons.

eLogBook entries might be automatically categorized and located in a serial order, complete with a date, time, and equipment tools. This not only ensures that submissions, reviews, and verifications are entered promptly, but it also reduces the danger of error and safeguards the data's integrity.

eLogBooks, unlike paper logbooks and use-logs, are not restricted to a single place. Users may access them using a compatible browser on a variety of mobile devices, tablets, and PCs, independent of operating system. You can access the internet from anywhere in the globe.

Authorized access and regulatory compliance are critical in pharmaceutical and biotech manufacturing. According to USA FDA 21 CFR Part 11 and EU Annex 11, electronic records must document who completed certain duties. Only authorized individuals should have access to the logbook entries or make new entries. This prevents unauthorized outsiders and pharmaceutical company employees from accessing the logbooks and maintains a rigorous audit trail of activity.

Electronic LogBook Benefits for Pharma Companies

These benefits save businesses time and money while avoiding the risks associated with a paper logbook.

1. Eliminates Cost of Paper Logbook Maintenance

In order to avoid damage or data loss, the entries made in paper logbooks are constantly recorded and stored. However, eLogBooks are more cost-effective and appear to have a better chance of success than paper logbook maintenance. It synchronizes and integrates all of the entries and information into a single location that can be accessed simultaneously without going through multiple paper logbooks.

2. Manages Manufacturing Equipment Activities

In pharma and biotech operations, electronic logbooks efficiently control the statuses and activities of industrial equipment. It provides real-time data on equipment usage, maintenance, and repairs, as well as an audit trail. Electronic status monitoring is critical to getting first-mine production success. This means that only the appropriate equipment is being used at the appropriate moment to ensure error-free manufacturing.

3. Accessibility

Another advantage of electronic logbooks over paper logbooks is record and electronic data accessibility. Unlike paper logbooks, eLogBooks may be viewed from any mobile device or web browser that is supported. This means you don't have to go to the logbook storage centre to look for information on logbook entries or even submit them into the logbook. This feature limits data access to those who are authorized and should be used by pharmaceutical firms.

4. Configuration

eLogBooks allows you to define logbook entry parameters based on the data you submit. eLogBooks are very adaptable and customizable. This allows for a high degree of form re-use. You may also examine the data in various forms and export it to your organization's reporting systems to manage and monitor remotely.

Why Use Electronic Logbooks in Pharma Company?

Other than the above benefits of using e-logbooks, pharmaceutical manufacturing, cell and gene, and biotech firms should consider the following reasons for utilizing eLogBooks:

The advantages of electronic logbooks in pharmaceutical manufacturing and biotech operations are always superior to those of conventional logbooks. eLogBooks are efficient and error-free. Learn how to use Process XE to start your digital transition and install electronic logbooks.

#logbook management #online logbook software #electronic equipment logbook #equipment logbook #machine logbook #Electronic logbooks

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emperordinozenmon · 5 months ago

Text

The Farmer’s Daughter

I came to the countryside to escape all the distractions and finally write my third novel, but instead, I found love—the biggest distraction of all. I arrived in the small town with nothing but my Foil SP Omnimon card Switch, earphones, phone, laptop, relevant chargers, and enough clothes to last me until I finished. The hostel I booked was a recently converted farm run by a family still figuring things out. That was fine; as long as I didn’t have to deal with a bunch of other people, I’d be good.

Or so I thought.

The moment I stepped out of the cab, I was greeted by a young woman in pigtails and overalls, with an adorable smile that practically lit up the countryside. My heart immediately whispered, “Marry this girl now!” My brain, being slightly more practical, suggested, “Maybe at least say hello first.”

I adjusted my bag, approached her, and said, “Hi, I have a reservation. It should be under Austin.”

She tilted her head slightly, her smile widening in a way that made my pulse race. “Austin… let’s see.” She opened a slightly battered logbook, her fingers skimming down the page. “Ah, there you are!” Her English was smooth, but her charming accent made it sound just a bit melodic. She tore a key off a hook and handed it to me.

“Thank you, Mrs…?” I trailed off, leaning in slightly, hoping to catch her name.

“Oh, I’m not married!” she said quickly, a faint pink coloring her cheeks.

“My name is Son Seung Wan but call me Wendy. I’m the main hostess here—and the daughter of the owner.”

“Well, color me impressed. I get the VIP treatment?” I teased, raising an eyebrow.

She laughed, the sound light and unrestrained. “Well, you’re one of our very first customers, so it only seems fair to make you feel special.” “You’re doing a pretty good job so far,” I said, unable to stop the grin spreading across my face.

Her eyes met mine for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us. Then she blinked and straightened, brushing a loose strand of hair back. “Oh, wait before you go—” She grabbed a scrap of paper, jotted something down, and handed it to me.

Curious, I glanced at the note. It was her number, along with a quick doodle of a smiley face.

“In case you need anything,” she said, her tone casual, but her lips curved in a way that hinted at mischief.

I met her gaze again, this time letting a wolfish smile creep onto my face. “Anything at all, huh?”

She rolled her eyes playfully, but there was no mistaking the slight blush on her cheeks. “Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Not a chance,” I said, slipping the note carefully into my pocket. As I walked to my room, I realized I might not get much writing done here after all.

On my first morning at the farm, I woke up before dawn. The timezone difference still had me in its grip, but I didn’t mind. By breakfast, I had already managed to crank out four chapters—a personal best. What finally stopped me wasn’t writer’s block but the loud, insistent grumbling of my stomach.

Unable to ignore it any longer, I ventured outside in search of food. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of hay and earth. As I rounded the barn, I spotted Wendy. She was busy moving bales of hay, her pigtails bouncing slightly with each effort. Dressed in her overalls and boots, she waved when she saw me, flashing that same adorable smile that had disarmed me yesterday.

My heart gave an uncharacteristic flutter.

I walked over without thinking, the words tumbling out of my mouth before my brain could catch up. “Hey, you need some help, pretty lady?”

Wendy’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, but she quickly covered it with a smirk. “Pretty lady, huh? That’s one way to get on my good side.”

I grinned. “It’s a start, isn’t it?”

She laughed lightly, then cocked her head. “I don’t know if a big city boy like you can handle it, though. This is real work, not whatever you call exercise up there wherever you're from.”

I shrugged, leaning casually against the barn door. “Can’t hurt to try.” She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

What I’d signed up for turned out to be far more than I expected. First, I helped her lug bales of hay across the barnyard, each one heavier than it looked. Wendy kept glancing at me, clearly waiting for me to give up, but I stubbornly matched her pace.

Next, we fed the animals—cows, chickens, and goats. At one point, a particularly ambitious goat tried to climb into the feed bucket I was holding, nearly knocking me over. Wendy doubled over laughing. “Looks like he’s winning, city boy!”

I managed to shoo the goat away, brushing off my jeans. “That goat’s got nothing on me.”

She smirked, handing me another bucket. “We’ll see.” We moved on to the horses, running a few of them on the track. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was doing, but Wendy coached me through it, her voice teasing but encouraging. She seemed genuinely impressed that I was keeping up.

Two and a half hours later, we finally finished. I wiped the sweat from my brow, trying to catch my breath. Wendy leaned against the fence, her face flushed from exertion but glowing with satisfaction.

“I’m shocked you made it this far, big boy,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Guess that size is good for something.”

“Hey, I used to be a college rugby star for New Mexico,” I countered, puffing out my chest a little.

She chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “A rugby star, huh? Explains the broad shoulders. Still, I’m not sure how you went from that to typing away in front of a laptop all day.”

I smirked, leaning against the fence beside her. “Guess I like to keep people guessing. But what about you? All this hard work—you could probably give a rugby team a run for their money.” Wendy tilted her head, pretending to think. “Maybe. But then who would be here to babysit city boys like you?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Fair enough. So, what’s next? More hay? Another goat to wrestle?” Her stomach growled audibly, and she shot me a sheepish grin. “Actually,

I was thinking food. But since you seem so eager, maybe I should keep you working.”

“Oh, no, food sounds perfect,” I said quickly. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from eating, after all.”

She rolled her eyes, tugging lightly at my sleeve. “Alright, come on, then. Let’s get something to eat before your stomach scares the animals.” “Hey, that was only once!” I protested, falling into step beside her.

As we walked back toward the house, I realized I wasn’t just enjoying the work or the fresh air—I was enjoying her company. Every glance, every smile, every teasing comment felt electric, like the start of something I couldn’t quite define.

Judging by the way her eyes lingered on mine, she might just have felt it too.

We made our way back to the farmhouse, Wendy walking a step ahead of me. She moved with an effortless confidence, her pigtails swaying as she chatted about farm chores and the antics of the animals. I tried to focus on her words—really, I did—but my eyes kept betraying me.

Her overalls fit snugly, hinting at the full, hourglass figure beneath them. It wasn’t just her curves, though; there was something about her—the way she balanced strength with an undeniable softness as if the hard work hadn’t taken away her natural femininity.

“You’re awfully quiet back there,” she said suddenly, turning to glance over her shoulder. Her smile was playful, but her eyes were sharp. “Something on your mind?”

I froze, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Oh, uh, just thinking about breakfast.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, raising an eyebrow but not pressing further. Inside, the kitchen was cozy and smelled like freshly baked bread and eggs. Wendy moved to the counter, grabbing a loaf from a breadbox and setting out a jar of jam. She gestured for me to sit while she began to plate some scrambled eggs.

As she worked, my eyes flickered again to the curve of her waist and the way her overalls clung to her hips. I quickly looked away, but it was too late.

“Caught you,” she said, her voice sing-song as she turned, a plate in hand and a smirk on her lips.

“Caught me doing what?” I asked, feigning innocence as I reached for the plate.

“Oh, come on,” she said, setting it down in front of me. She leaned on the counter, her smirk fading slightly as she added, “You’ve been sneaking glances since we left the barn. I’m flattered, really… but also kinda surprised.”

“Surprised?” I asked, genuinely confused. She sat down across from me, resting her chin in her hand. “Yeah. Guys usually go for someone… smaller, you know? All my friends back in school were skinny, and it always felt like they got all the attention. Me? Not so much.”

Her tone was light, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. She picked at the edge of her napkin, avoiding my gaze. “I guess it’s just weird hearing compliments like that. I mean, I like food too much to diet, and I’m obviously not built to be dainty.” She gestured at herself with a half-smile. “Most of the time, I’m fine with it. But sometimes…”

She trailed off, shrugging as if to brush the thought away, but I could tell it lingered.

I opened my mouth to respond and immediately panicked, trying to think of something that wasn’t cheesy or dumb. Don’t tell her she’s pretty. Don’t tell her she’s perfect. That’s what every guy says, and it’ll sound hollow. Instead, I took a deep breath and said, “I think… it’s less about what most guys like and more about what’s real. And you, Wendy, are… real. Not trying to be something you’re not. That’s what’s striking about you. You’re just… you.”

Her eyes softened, and she blinked at me as if trying to decide if I was serious. “Real, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, leaning forward slightly. “And for the record, you pull off ‘real’ better than anyone I’ve ever met.”

She laughed, some of the tension slipping from her shoulders. “You’re dangerously close to cheesy territory there, city boy.”

I grinned, holding up my hands. “What can I say? You make it hard to avoid.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile she gave me was warm and genuine.

“Alright, alright. Eat your breakfast before you try to sweep me off my feet with more compliments.”

I picked up my fork, but before I took a bite, I looked at her and said, “For the record, I wasn’t trying to sweep you off your feet. Just… being honest.”

Her cheeks turned pink again, and she quickly looked away, but I noticed the small smile lingering on her lips.

As we ate, I couldn’t stop stealing glances at her—and this time, she didn’t seem to mind.

After breakfast, Wendy followed me to my room. I didn’t mind her company—something about her presence felt energizing, even as I worked. I settled at the small desk by the window, my laptop glowing softly in the morning light.

She perched on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, leaning slightly forward as if trying to peek at my screen. I was laser-focused on pounding out another few chapters, but the occasional snicker from her side of the room was hard to ignore.

“What’s so funny?” I asked after the third one, still typing.

“Oh, nothing. You just look so serious, like you’re solving the mysteries of the universe,” she teased, her tone light and playful.

"I am solving the mysteries of the universe…at least for these characters,” I said, glancing at her with a mock frown before turning back to my laptop.

“Sure you are,” she said, barely containing her giggles. For a while, I worked in relative silence, her occasional fidgeting and soft hums the only sounds besides my typing. Then, after what must have been half an hour, she broke the quiet.

“So… what’s this book about? I can see bits and pieces from here, but I can’t get the full picture.”

I paused, leaning back in my chair and stretching. “It’s about a Paladin of Justice who falls in love with a beautiful succubus. It’s meant to be a romantic comedy, mostly.”

Wendy tilted her head, her expression caught between curiosity and disbelief. “A succubus and a paladin? Is the paladin evil?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Nope. They’re both good. Or at least, trying to be. They’re in legitimate love with each other, despite all the odds stacked against them.” Her eyes widened slightly, genuine surprise flickering across her face. “Legitimate love? Like… no trickery, no spells?”

“None,” I said firmly.

She sat back, letting the idea sink in before asking, “So how do they meet? How do they fall for each other?”

I smiled lightly. “Mostly by happenstance. Boy meets girl, falls head over heels, and girl… well, she just happens to be a succubus. They figure out life and love together, and comedy ensues.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “That’s definitely unconventional. Why write something like that?”

I shrugged, spinning my chair slightly to face her. “It’s a creative way for me to address unconventional love. You know, exploring themes like acceptance and understanding, but in a fun, silly way that doesn’t carry the baggage of something like an interracial couple or other real-world dynamics.”

Wendy’s gaze narrowed slightly, her expression shifting to one of intrigue. “So… you use fantasy to confront reality?”

I nodded, a little surprised by her insight. “Exactly. It gives me room to be playful and honest at the same time.” She grinned triumphantly, leaning forward. “See? I can be smart too.”

I frowned, not understanding her tone. “I never said you weren’t smart. Never even thought it.”

Her confident grin faltered, and her cheeks flushed. “Sorry. It’s just… most city boys think I’m a country bumpkin. You know, farm girl, overalls, chickens clucking in the background… even though I graduated top of my class.”

I shook my head, the idea of anyone underestimating her irritating me more than I cared to admit. “Well, I’m not most city boys.”

Her blush deepened, but a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m learning that,” she said softly, her voice almost shy.

For a moment, the air between us felt heavier and warmer. Her fingers fiddled with the hem of her shirt, and I found myself watching the movement, wondering if I’d said the right thing.

Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward slightly, resting my elbows on my knees. “For the record, I think you’re brilliant. And if anyone’s ever made you feel like you’re less than that, they were idiots.”

Her eyes flicked to mine, wide and startled, and for a heartbeat, she didn’t say anything. Then her lips curled into a slow, genuine smile. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

“Dangerous how?” I asked, grinning.

“Dangerous because you say things like that and make me think you actually mean them,” she teased, but there was no hiding the warmth in her voice.

I turn to Wendy look her in her eyes and "I mean them,” I say simply, leaning back in my chair.

She laughed, the sound light and musical, and the tension melted away. “Alright, city boy. Keep working on your book. I’ll be here, judging your plot decisions silently.”

“Only silently?” I shot back.

“For now,” she said with a wink.

I finished another 3 chapters then we started the afternoon chores at the farm. I was a bit slower this time around but still managed to keep up with Wendy as she blitzed through them. She would often look back and smile at me

She'd occasionally ask, “Still alive city boy?” to which I respond “Yeah,” I felt bad though because my gaze would continually leer over her body and I had only just met her but I was already deeply infatuated with her Lunch at the farmhouse was as hearty and unpretentious as the setting itself: a steaming bowl of beef stew, fresh bread, and a crisp salad made from vegetables Wendy had likely picked herself. We sat across from each other at a small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen, sunlight filtering through the window and catching in her dark hair. The conversation flowed easily—Wendy had a knack for keeping things light and entertaining. She told me about the antics of the chickens that morning, gesturing animatedly, and I couldn’t help but smile at the way her eyes lit up when she spoke.

“Wait, you’ve never been chased by a rooster before?” she asked her tone equal parts mock disbelief and teasing.

“Not unless you count the time my high school mascot went rogue during homecoming,” I replied.

Wendy laughed, the sound like music before she stood abruptly. “Hold on. I forgot the chili paste. You’ve gotta try it—it’ll change your life.”

Before I could reply, she turned and walked toward the pantry. And just like that, I fell into a trance.

Her overalls clung to her in all the right places, accentuating the curve of her hips and the effortless sway of her walk. The straps framed her shoulders and the way her pigtails bobbed with every step felt almost hypnotic.

But it wasn’t just her figure—it was everything about her. The way she carried herself, confident and relaxed, without a shred of pretense. The way her voice softened when she talked about the farm, was full of pride and affection. The way she smiled like she knew exactly how to make the world a little brighter.

I was completely, hopelessly mesmerized.

“Enjoying the view?”

Her voice snapped me out of my thoughts, and I blinked, realizing she was standing right in front of me, the jar of chili paste in her hand and a knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I, uh…” I stammered, my ears burning.

Wendy tilted her head, her grin widening. “Don’t stop on my account. You looked like you were thinking something very important.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to recover. “Just… admiring the architectural integrity of your pantry. Very sturdy shelves.” She laughed, setting the jar down on the table. “Sure you were.” Sliding back into her seat, she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “So? What’s your verdict?”

“On… what?” I asked cautiously.

“On the shelves,” she teased, her smile turning sly.

Caught, I let out a sheepish laugh and met her gaze. “Fine. You got me. I was thinking about you.”

Her brow arched, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Oh? And what exactly were you thinking?”

I hesitated the words balancing on the edge of my tongue. I wanted to tell her everything: how I thought she was stunning, how her laugh felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, how her presence made me forget everything else. But that felt way too heavy for lunch.

Instead, I smirked and said, “I was thinking chili paste might not be the only thing here that could change my life.” Wendy blinked, surprised, before laughing softly. “Wow. A city boy’s got some lines after all.”

“Not just any lines,” I said, leaning slightly closer. “Good ones.” She chuckled again, shaking her head but not looking away. For a moment, the playful banter fell away, replaced by something quieter and deeper. Her smile softened, and she reached for the jar, opening it with a casual grace that made my heart beat faster.

“Alright, Romeo,” she said, breaking the spell as she handed me the jar.

“Let’s see if you can handle this chili paste without crying.”

“Oh, you underestimate me,” I replied, grinning as I took it. As we ate, the tension lingered in the air, warm and electric, and I knew one thing for certain: I was falling for her.

After spending a few quiet hours resting with Wendy, she left to talk with her dad, Mr. Son. I turned my focus back to my writing, managing to chip away at another chapter, but I couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of her warmth beside me or the playful lilt of her voice.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me out of my thoughts. When I opened it, Mr. Son stood there, his broad shoulders framed in the doorway. His expression was as weathered as the land he worked on, and his eyes carried a weight that made me stand a little straighter.

“Mind if I come in?” he asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

“Of course, sir,” I replied, stepping aside as he entered.

He scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the open laptop and scattered notes on the desk before settling on me. Crossing his arms, he fixed me with a steely look. “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

The question hit me like a hammer. I expected it, sure, but hearing it aloud—especially in that gravelly tone—made my throat tighten. I let out a slow sigh and met his gaze. “I have a crush on your daughter, sir,” I admitted plainly.

Mr. Son’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “That’s not good enough. I don’t trust city folk, especially not with my daughter. You’ll need to do better than ‘I have a crush.’”

I inhaled deeply, choosing my words carefully. “Your daughter is… incredible, sir. She’s smart, funny, and kind. She’s confident even when she feels insecure, and she has this strength that’s just—” I paused, searching for the right words. “She’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner. I’d marry her in a heartbeat if I could, have a family with her, and spend my life making her as happy as she makes me. She’s my dream girl, sir.”

Mr. Son tilted his head slightly, his sharp gaze studying me like a hawk sizing up its prey. “And what’s so special about her that makes her your ‘dream girl?’” he pressed.

I squared my shoulders, determined to answer honestly. “She’s beautiful, of course—anyone can see that. But it’s more than that. Wendy’s wit keeps me on my toes. Her caring nature makes me want to be better. And even with all the hard work she puts in here, she’s still soft—emotionally and physically—in a way that makes me feel grounded. She’s the kind of person who makes you want to fight for something worth keeping.” For a long moment, Mr. Son didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then he took a step closer, his presence towering despite my height advantage.

“You’re not like most city boys,” he said finally, his tone more curious than accusatory.

I nodded. “I try not to be.”

A flicker of something like amusement crossed his face, though it was gone as quickly as it came. “I’m not fully sold on you yet,” he admitted.

“But I’ll give you this—you don’t seem like you’d hurt her.”

“I wouldn’t,” I said firmly. “I couldn’t.”

He chuckled then, a low, gravelly sound that felt like the breaking of ice.

“Well, you’d better not. Because if you do, I’ll make sure everyone in town hears about it.”

“I believe you,” I replied with a small smile.

Satisfied, Mr. Son turned to leave but paused in the doorway. His tone softened slightly. “Wendy’s not like most girls. She’s been hurt before, and she’s always felt different from her friends because of how she looks. She needs someone who’ll see her for who she is and stick by her. Can you do that?”

I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words. “I will, sir. I’ll take care of her. I swear it.”

He studied me for another beat, then nodded. “Good. But don’t forget—you screw this up, and it’s not just Wendy you’ll have to answer to.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “Understood.”

As he stepped out, I couldn’t help but add, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, though. I have way more to lose if I ever hurt Wendy. People like me… the world loves to see us fail. But I won’t give it that satisfaction—not with her.”

Mr. Son turned back, his expression shifting to one of faint surprise. “That’s an interesting way of looking at things,” he murmured. After a pause, his lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Alright then. Have fun with Wendy.”

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving me standing in the quiet room, my heart pounding in my chest. I’d passed the test—for now. But more than that, I felt a renewed sense of determination. Wendy was worth every effort, and I wasn’t about to let her—or her father—down. As my heart stopped racing I was surprised to get a text from Wendy asking me if I wanted to go on a double date. The idea of a double date had clearly put Wendy in a good mood. When she mentioned it to me earlier, her smile was equal parts nervous and excited. “Joy wants me to go with her, but I’m not going unless you’re coming too,” she’d said, almost shyly.

How could I say no to that? She asked me in a pretty sun dress she had decided to wear with nice leather boots.

So now we were seated at a polished, cozy restaurant with Joy and her date, a clean-cut guy named Jae who seemed charming enough—at first. Wendy and I sat across from them, sharing appetizers and easy banter.

Joy was effortlessly sociable, and she clearly enjoyed teasing Wendy, poking fun at her for being “so domestic” with her farm duties. But the teasing was lighthearted, and Wendy took it in stride, rolling her eyes and laughing along.

I leaned over to her. “She seems like trouble.” Wendy grinned, whispering back, “You have no idea.” The date was going well—right up until Jae tilted his head, squinting at Wendy like he was trying to place her.

“Wait a second,” he said, his tone sharpening with recognition. “You’re Han Wendy, aren’t you? We went to high school together.” Wendy tensed slightly but managed a polite smile. “Oh, yeah. Jae, right?” “Yeah, that’s me.” He leaned back in his chair, his grin turning smug. “Wow, I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re, uh… still living out on the farm, huh?” Wendy’s smile faltered. “Yeah, I am.” Jae laughed, a little too loudly. “Guess some things never change. I mean, who else could it be? I remember everyone used to call you Cow—what was the other one? Heifer, right?” The table went silent.

Wendy’s cheeks flushed, and I could see her trying to keep her composure, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of hurt. Before she could say anything, something snapped inside me. My chest tightened, my jaw clenched, and the words came out before I even realized what I was saying—my usual measured tone replaced by a thick, unmistakable Texas drawl. “Now hold on there, partner,” I said, my voice low and deliberate. “You best watch what you’re sayin’.” Jae blinked, startled. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said, leaning forward slightly, my eyes locking onto his. “Ain’t no one gonna sit here and call my woman names like that. You got somethin’ to say to her, you say it with respect, or you don’t say it at all.” The accent was as thick as molasses, and for a moment, even I was surprised by the force of it. But it worked. Jae’s smug expression faltered, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“Jeez, man, I didn’t mean anything by it. Just a joke.”

“Well, it ain’t funny,” I shot back. “Wendy’s a better woman than you deserve to be sittin’ across from, and you’d do well to remember that.”

Jae muttered something under his breath, clearly not eager to push the issue further. Joy, wide-eyed, gave him a sharp elbow in the ribs. The rest of the meal passed with forced small talk, and when it was over, Wendy and I walked back to the car together in silence.

As soon as we were alone, she stopped, turning to face me. Her expression was unreadable at first, her dark eyes studying me intently. Finally, she broke into a smile, one that was equal parts amused and amazed. “My woman, huh?”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling my cheeks heat. “It just… came out. I didn’t mean to make a scene or anything.”

“No,” she said quickly, her voice soft. “I mean… thank you. For standing up for me.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say, but then she took a step closer.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” she said, her tone playful but sincere. “Here I thought you were just some smart, sophisticated city boy. But turns out, there’s a little bit of a farm boy in you too.”

I chuckled nervously. “Grew up around a lot of cornfields. Guess some habits stick.”

Her smile deepened, and for a moment, she just looked at me, her gaze warm and filled with something I couldn’t quite name.

“I like it,” she said finally. “I like you.”

My breath caught, and before I could respond, she slipped her hand into mine, squeezing it gently.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light again. “Let’s get out of here before Joy tries to rope us into another one of her ‘fun ideas.’”

As we walked to the car, hand in hand, I couldn’t help but feel a new kind of certainty settle in my chest. Wendy wasn’t just someone I was falling for—she was someone I wanted to protect, cherish, and share every part of myself with, even the parts I thought I’d left behind.

And judging by the way her fingers laced with mine, I had a feeling she felt the same.

Here’s the revised and expanded version of the scene, where the narrator’s “Cornfed” side emerges and, with it, his comfort, affection for Wendy, and the eloquence of his pre-college self: The next morning, Wendy was knocking on my door bright and early.

“Up and at ’em, city boy!” she called. “We’ve got work to do!” Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door. Wendy stood there, a hand on her hip and a teasing grin on her face, dressed in overalls and a straw hat.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” she said. “The chickens aren’t gonna feed themselves.”

I rubbed my eyes, giving her an exaggerated groan. “You’re way too cheerful for this early in the morning.”

She smirked. “Can’t help it. Gotta see if I can bring out more of that Cornfed Boy I saw last night. I know he’s in there somewhere.”

I rolled my eyes but grabbed my boots. “Alright, boss. Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”

At the chicken coop, Wendy handed me a basket and gestured toward the hens. “Alright, let’s see if you remember how to do this.”

I stepped inside, and the chickens clucked and fluttered nervously. A younger me might have hesitated, but something about being back on the farm—with Wendy watching expectantly—felt natural.

“Hush now, darlin’,” I murmured to a particularly noisy hen. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’.”

Wendy straightened up, her grin widening. “Was that a little twang I just heard?”

I chuckled, crouching to collect the eggs. “You’re hearing things, Wendy. These chickens’ve got you spooked.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, leaning on the fence and crossing her arms. “City boy’s trying real hard to hide it, but it’s coming out.”

As I worked, I found myself relaxing more and more. The motions were familiar, and the weight of the basket in my hand felt like an old friend. By the time I handed the basket to Wendy, I wasn’t even thinking about hiding the accent that had crept into my voice.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she said. “Starting to think I’m not the only one who grew up around chickens.”

“Spent a few summers doin’ chores like this,” I admitted. “Dad wanted to keep me outta trouble, so he sent me to help out some neighbors. Learned a thing or two.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’re really Cornfed, huh?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” I replied with a sly grin. When it came time to muck out the stalls, Wendy handed me a pitchfork and leaned against the barn door.

“Alright, Mr. Cornfed,” she said, smirking. “Let’s see what you’ve got.” I didn’t even hesitate, rolling up my sleeves and setting to work. The smell wasn’t pleasant, but the rhythm of shoveling and tossing was oddly satisfying. As I worked, I found myself explaining the best way to handle stubborn spots and how to keep the bedding clean without wasting hay.

“You’re awfully good at this for a city boy,” Wendy teased.

I shrugged, leaning on the pitchfork for a moment. “It’s just about workin’ smarter, not harder. You gotta respect the process. Animals ain’t so different from people—give ’em a clean space, a little kindness, and they’ll take care of the rest.”

Her eyes softened, and she tilted her head. “You sound like you’ve been doing this your whole life.”

I smiled, my voice taking on a more thoughtful tone. “Maybe I forgot for a while, but it’s comin’ back to me. Feels… good, y’know? Like I’m findin’ a piece of myself I didn’t know I’d lost.”

She stared at me for a moment, her smile turning from teasing to something gentler. “I like this side of you,” she said softly. At lunchtime, we sat together on the porch, the sun warming our faces as we ate. Wendy had made sandwiches and sweet tea, and the simplicity of it all felt just right.

“You know,” I said, leaning back against the railing, “this is the kinda meal that sticks with you. Not just in your stomach but in your heart.” Wendy blinked at me, then laughed. “Wow. That was downright poetic.”

“Farm-work does that to a man,” I said, winking at her. She nudged me with her foot. “Alright, Shakespeare. What else you got?” I turned toward her, resting my arm on the railing. “I’ve got this,” I said, my voice softening. “You, sittin’ here in the sun, lookin’ like you belong to this place in a way most people never will. It’s beautiful, Wendy. You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, pretending to adjust her hat.

“You keep talking like that, and I might start believing you.”

“Good,” I said, my voice low but steady. “Because I mean every word.” By the time we got to the creek in the afternoon, I was more comfortable in my skin than I had been in years. Wendy led me to the water’s edge, kicking off her shoes and splashing into the shallows.

“You coming in, or are you too fancy for creek water now?” she teased.

I grinned, rolling up my pant legs and stepping in after her. “You forget,

I’m just a Cornfed boy at heart.”

She laughed, splashing me lightly. “Prove it!”

I splashed her back, and we spent the next few minutes chasing each other through the water, laughing and hollering like kids. At some point, I caught her by the hand and pulled her close, the cool water swirling around our legs as we caught our breath.

“Y’know,” I said, my voice dipping into a deeper drawl, “you’ve got a way of bringin’ out the best in me.”

Wendy tilted her head, her eyes shining. “Maybe because this is the best of you,” she said softly.

I smiled, brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. “Reckon you’re right.”

Her grin widened, and she leaned against my side as we waded to the bank to dry off. Sitting there together, the sun dipping low in the sky, I felt like I was finally whole again—and it was all because of her.

The next morning found me in the barn, fixin’ a loose latch on one of the horse stalls Wendy had mentioned yesterday. Sunlight spilled through the slats in the wood, catchin’ on the dust motes hangin’ lazy in the air. I was whistlin’ low and easy as I worked, pausin’ now and again to make sure the latch lined up just right.

“Didn’t expect to find you out here this early,” came a familiar voice from the barn door.

I straightened up and turned to see Mr. Son leanin’ against the frame, arms crossed, his gaze as steady and sharp as ever.

“Mornin’, sir,” I said, brushin’ my hands off on my jeans. “Latch was givin’ your horse some trouble, so I figured I’d see to it. Ain’t no sense lettin’ a small thing turn into a big problem.”

His eyebrows lifted, though he didn’t comment right away. Instead, he stepped inside, his boots scuffin’ softly against the wood. “You’ve been keepin’ yourself busy,” he remarked.

I nodded, settin’ the screwdriver aside. “Just tryin’ to pull my weight. Wendy’s been workin’ circles ’round me, so I figured I’d better start earnin’ my keep.”

He chuckled low, though his tone stayed cautious. “That so?” “Yessir,” I said, leanin’ a little against the stall door. “Place like this needs constant care, and I reckon there’s no better way to show I’m serious than to put in the work.”

Mr. Son studied me for a long moment, his eyes squintin’ like he was seein’ me for the first time. “You’re talkin’ different than you did a couple days ago,” he said finally.

I shrugged, a faint grin tuggin’ at my lips. “Guess bein’ here brings it out of me. I spent my summers on farms like this when I was younger. Dad thought it was important I learn how to work with my hands, so he sent me to help out local folks who needed it. This life kinda gets under your skin—it stays with you.”

His expression shifted slightly, though his arms stayed crossed. “Didn’t expect a city boy to know his way around a barn.”

“Well,” I said, straightenin’ up and leanin’ on the stall door, “city boy’s just the surface. Dad was a professor, and he believed in groundin’ his kids with hard work. Every summer, I’d wake up before dawn, shovel stalls, fix fences, harvest crops—whatever needed doin’. Taught me a lot about patience and pride in a job well done.”

His gaze softened, though he didn’t uncross his arms just yet. “That’s rare these days. Most young folks wouldn’t know the first thing about how to fix a fence, let alone stick with it.”

“Yessir,” I said with a small nod. “There’s somethin’ about seein’ the results of your work—somethin’ real, y’know? Even when I was back in the city, stuck at a desk or in a lecture hall, part of me always missed this. The smell of the earth, the ache in your muscles after a long day, the quiet satisfaction of buildin’ somethin’ with your own two hands.”

Mr. Son looked me over again, his eyes narrowing like he was weighin’ my words. “You’ve changed,” he said slowly.

“Maybe,” I replied, smilin’ a little. “Or maybe I’m just settlin’ back into the part of me I tried to leave behind.”

His chuckle was quieter this time, almost thoughtful. “When you first showed up, I figured you were one of those smooth-talking city types. Someone who’d sweet-talk my daughter and leave her with nothin’ but heartbreak.”

“I get why you’d think that,” I said, my voice steady. “But sir, Wendy’s more than just a pretty face to me. She’s…” I paused, searchin’ for the right words. “She’s the kind of woman who makes you wanna be better, just by bein’ around her. And I don’t take that lightly.”

Mr. Son’s shoulders relaxed a little, though his eyes stayed sharp. “You ain’t just talkin’, are you?”

“No, sir,” I said firmly. “I’ve got every intention of stickin’ around, so long as she’ll have me. And if that means puttin’ in the work, then I’ll do it. Whether it’s muckin’ stalls or mendin’ fences, I’m here for the long haul.” For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at me like he was seein’ something he hadn’t expected. Finally, he nodded. “Well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t think I’d see the day a city boy walked into my barn and left actin’ like a college-educated cowboy.”

I chuckled, rubbin’ the back of my neck. “Life’s funny that way, I guess.” He stepped closer, clappin’ a hand on my shoulder. “You keep showin’ me this side of you, and I might just start callin’ you somethin’ other than city boy.”

“I’d like that,” I said with a grin.

As he turned toward the door, he glanced back. “And your writin’? How’s that comin’ along?”

“It’s goin’ great,” I said, my grin widenin’. “Almost halfway done now. Somethin’ about bein’ here… it clears my head. The words’ve been comin’ easier than they ever did back in the city.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s good. Just don’t forget where your priorities are.” “Yessir,” I said with a nod.

When he left, I leaned against the stall, feelin’ a quiet kind of satisfaction. The city had polished me up, sure, but bein’ here had reminded me of who I really was. And I wasn’t just writin’ a novel—I was rebuildin’ myself, piece by piece, with every nail I hammered and every word I wrote.

The morning sun was sittin’ high by the time Wendy finished her chores and wandered over to where I was perched on the porch, takin’ a breather with my notebook open in my lap. She was glowing, as she always seemed to be after a morning of wranglin’ chickens and tendin’ to the garden. Her hair was tucked up under her straw hat, a streak of dirt smudged on her cheek that only made her look more radiant.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” she asked, leanin’ against the porch railing and squintin’ down at the notebook like she could read it upside-down.

“Just hammerin’ out some details for the next chapter,” I said, smilin’ up at her. “Want a peek?”

Her face lit up like I’d offered her the keys to a candy shop. “You serious? I’d love to!”

I handed over the notebook, watchin’ as she plopped down on the porch swing beside me. She tucked one leg under herself, balanced the notebook on her knee, and began readin’ with an intensity that made me feel like a schoolboy waitin’ on a grade.

Her lips moved faintly as she read, and every so often, her eyes widened or her brow furrowed, her reactions tellin’ me more than words ever could. When she finally closed the notebook, she let out a breath and turned to me, her gaze so earnest it made my heart skip a beat. “This is really good,” she said, her voice soft but certain.

“You think so?” I asked, my voice comin’ out a little rougher than I intended.

“Yeah,” she said, noddin’ like she was tryin’ to convince me as much as herself. “I love your use of imagery. Like here”—she flipped back a page and pointed—“when you described the sunset as ‘a lazy cat stretchin’ across the horizon, all claws of pink and gold.’ That’s such a vivid, unexpected image, but it fits perfectly.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feelin’ heat creep up under my collar. “Well, uh, thanks.”

“And the foreshadowing!” she continued, her enthusiasm bubblin’ over. “It’s subtle, but it’s there, like breadcrumbs leadin’ the reader without them even realizin’ it. And your style—it seems simple at first, but the more I read, the more layers I see. It’s like a quilt, each piece tellin’ its own story but all stitched together into somethin’ whole.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “You sure do talk pretty, Wendy. Soundin’ downright college-educated there.”

She laughed, leanin’ back against the swing. “That’s because I am. I’ve got a doctorate in literary sciences and linguistics.” The notebook nearly slipped from my hands. “You’re pullin’ my leg.”

“Nope.” She beamed, sittin’ up straighter. “Defended my dissertation three years ago. I studied how storytelling shapes language development in children and how it’s tied to intelligence across cultures.” I let out a low whistle. “Well, I’ll be. Here I was thinkin’ I was impressin’ you, and you’ve probably forgotten more about literature than I’ll ever know.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she said, tappin’ my notebook with a playful smirk. “You’ve got talent. And it’s not just your imagery or style—it’s the way you understand people, their struggles and joys. That’s the kind of thing no amount of study can teach you.”

“Guess I had a good teacher, then,” I said, thinkin’ back to my dad and the way he’d always read to us as kids, his voice deep and steady, drawin’ me into worlds far beyond our little farm.

That comment must’ve sparked somethin’, because soon we were knee-deep in a conversation about the role of stories in human history. Wendy talked about how oral traditions preserved culture and passed down knowledge long before writin’ was a thing, and I chimed in about how even now, stories are how we make sense of a world that don’t always make sense on its own.

Her words were sharp and insightful, but there was a warmth to ’em, too, like she wasn’t just speakin’ from her head but from her heart. And the more we talked, the more I found myself leanin’ into a rhythm I hadn’t felt in years. My words slowed, pickin’ up a drawl I hadn’t noticed before, and my thoughts came together like rows of crops, neat and orderly, every idea growin’ from the one before it.

By the time we circled back to my novel, I realized the city boy I’d been tryin’ to be all these years had vanished like smoke on the wind. What was left was me—plain and simple. A man who loved the land, loved the work, and, if I was bein’ honest, was startin’ to think he might love the woman sittin’ beside him, too.

“You know,” I said, my voice lower and softer than it’d been in years, “I reckon I’ve learned more sittin’ here talkin’ to you than I ever did in a lecture hall.”

Wendy smiled, her eyes crinklin’ at the corners. “That’s sweet, but I think you’ve had it in you all along. You just needed the right person to bring it out.”

“Well,” I said, settlin’ back against the swing, “ain’t no one better for the job than you, darlin’.”

The word slipped out natural as breath, and when she looked at me, her eyes wide and her cheeks pink, I knew there wasn’t a lick of the city left in me. I was home, in every sense of the word.

The evening had settled into that perfect sweet spot where the sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky a soft lavender, with the warmth of the day still lingering in the air. Wendy and I were dressed a little nicer than usual for tonight’s double date, but still, nothing fancy. Wendy wore a simple sundress, her hair flowing freely in the warm breeze, and I had on a button-down shirt that was slightly wrinkled from the long day on the farm.

Joy and Arbor arrived shortly after we did, with Arbor flashing me a grin that told me he was fully aware of what he was about to witness. Arbor had always been an easy-going guy, someone I could always depend on during the roughest farm days, but I hadn’t seen him in a while since I’d been away at college. And now? Well, now I was feelin’ like a completely different man, for better or worse.

Wendy gave him a quick hug, and then we all sat down at a cozy corner booth at the little family-owned restaurant. The conversation started easy enough—Joy asking about the farm, Wendy laughing at some old memory I had of accidentally dropping a whole bucket of feed into the wrong stall, and Arbor sitting back with a knowing smile, looking from me to Wendy with a strange amusement.

At some point, Arbor’s eyes flicked over to me. He paused mid-sentence, setting his glass down. “You know, Austin,” he said, drawing out my name like he was testing it on his tongue, “it’s funny. I barely recognized you when I first walked in. I mean, you’re like… a whole new person.” I shot him a glance, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled, leaning back in the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. “I used to know you as that city kid, always talkin’ about how you couldn’t wait to leave the farm and go back to the hustle and bustle of college life. And now look at you.” He gestured to my shirt, the way I was sitting—relaxed, comfortable, with a quiet confidence I hadn’t exactly had back in the day.

“Well, I did spend a few years learning how to blend in with the city folks,” I said with a chuckle, though the words didn’t quite fit right in my mouth anymore. “Guess I was hopin’ I could shake off the farm life a bit.” Arbor raised his eyebrows, giving me a look that said he knew better. “You sure you’ve shaken it off? I mean, not that I’m complainin’, but you’ve got a whole different energy now. You talk slower, sit straighter… and I swear to God, you even sound different. I can hear that Southern drawl comin’ out now. You’re startin’ to sound like a damn cowboy, Austin. Hell, you even look like one.”

I could feel my face heat up, and I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, glancing over at Wendy. She was smiling at me with a gleam in her eyes, clearly enjoying the show. I leaned forward, catching Arbor’s gaze. “Guess the farm has a way of rubbin’ off on a fella. Guess I’m just more comfortable here. More at home, y’know?”

Arbor didn’t look surprised, but there was a touch of nostalgia in his eyes as he leaned forward. “Yeah, I get that. Used to be you’d complain about every single chore, but now you’re workin’ alongside it all, like it’s second nature to you. You’ve really found your place, huh?”

I let out a slow breath, glancing down at my hands. “Funny how things change when you’re not tryin’ to force ‘em. I didn’t expect to end up here, but here I am. Feels like I’ve found somethin’ that I’ve been missin’.”

Arbor studied me for a moment before nodding slowly. “You’re happier here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” I said simply, my voice a little more sure of itself. “Guess I am.” Wendy, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned over to me, her voice soft but warm. “I think it’s more than just the farm, though. It’s who you’ve become. Who you really are.”

I felt a rush of something in my chest. She was right. It wasn’t just the farm. It was the way I’d come back to myself, to the boy I used to be, before all the city pressures and the desire to be something I wasn’t. This… this felt like the real me.

As the conversation moved on, I noticed that Arbor was glancing over at me every now and then, like he was piecing something together in his mind. Finally, he put his glass down, looked me dead in the eye, and said,

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it. You know, when we were workin’ together back in the day, I always saw you as a city kid tryin’ to find his way in the world. But now? Now you’re more grounded. More… at peace with yourself. Hell, I don’t know if it’s the farm, or Wendy, or just you finally growin’ up, but I gotta say… it’s a damn good change.”

Wendy smiled at the comment, but I could see something flicker behind her eyes—pride, maybe? Maybe even something deeper. Something between the two of us that I wasn’t ready to name yet, but I could feel it growin’ every time we spoke, every time we shared a quiet moment. I smiled back at Arbor. “Thanks, man. I guess it’s been a good ride so far.” Arbor winked. “Well, I’ll be damned, Austin. I think you’ve finally come home.”

The night had wound down, the warmth of the evening still hanging in the air as we walked back to the farm. The others had already gone, laughing and chatting as they made their way home, leaving Wendy and me alone under the deep velvet sky, the stars twinkling like diamonds above.

We walked side by side, the soft crunch of gravel beneath our boots the only sound, and yet, everything felt so loud—like the world was holding its breath. I couldn’t help but glance over at her every so often, her profile illuminated by the faint glow of the porch light up ahead.

There was something about the way she carried herself now. It wasn’t just her beauty—though God, she was beautiful—but the way she held the world around her like it was hers to nurture. It was the way she talked, the way she laughed, the way she loved this farm and everything it stood for. And it was the way she made me feel like I belonged here too.

We stopped just outside the door, and for a moment, everything went quiet. The door was just a few feet away, but neither of us moved. I felt her presence like a pull, like gravity, and I couldn’t look away from her.

“You know, you really have changed, Austin,” she said softly, her voice full of affection, her eyes warm as they met mine.

I shifted my weight, unsure how to respond to that, but before I could think of anything to say, she continued, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

“I mean, I loved the city boy at first,” she started, eyes twinkling with mischief, “but now? Now I get to see my cowboy come alive. And it’s… honestly the best thing ever. I didn’t know it could feel this good, watching someone finally shed their old skin and become who they really are.”

I felt my heart skip a beat at her words. I could see it in her eyes, in the way she spoke about it, how proud she was of me—not just for the changes I’d made, but for being me. The me that was finally here, in the place I was meant to be.

Wendy took a step closer, and for a moment, I thought she might say something more, but instead, she grinned, her eyes sparkling with a playful glint.

“You know,” she started, voice dropping a little lower, “I think I’m gonna claim you, Austin.”

I blinked, caught off guard, and she raised an eyebrow at me. “Claim me?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow of my own, unsure of where she was going with this.

“Yeah,” she said with that same mischievous grin. “I mean, I might have to brand you, you know? Just to make sure everyone knows you belong to me.”

My mouth went dry. I laughed, trying to keep my cool, but there was something so serious in her expression that made me pause, my heart racing.

“You’re gonna brand me?” I asked, a grin spreading across my face despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

“Yep,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest with an air of finality. “I’ll get one of those hot irons and press it right on your arm—just a little mark, so you know, everyone knows you’re mine.”

I just stared at her, dumbfounded. My heart was pounding, and my throat felt a little dry.

She was so sure of it, her face beaming with joy, and I couldn’t help but be absolutely enthralled by her excitement. The way she spoke about it, the way she was so open, so confident in her love, it left me speechless.

“Wendy,” I murmured, unable to find the right words at first, but then, something shifted. Her energy was so infectious, so full of life, that I finally found my voice. “You… you make me feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

She laughed, her face lighting up at my response. “Well, that’s the point,” she said, her voice softening just slightly as she reached up to place a hand on my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart. “I want you to feel like that. I want you to feel like you belong here, with me.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for her, pulling her closer and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. The way she fit into my arms, how easy it felt to hold her—it was like she was meant to be there. Like we were meant to be here, together.

“Wendy,” I said again, this time, my voice more steady, more sure. “I… I’ve never known anything like this before. You’ve made me realize so much, and I—” I stopped myself, then took a deep breath. “I love you. I love everything about you.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at me with wide eyes, her lips parted in surprise. And then, a smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears as she reached up, cupping my face in her hands. “I love you too, Austin,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “I never thought I’d find someone like you. Someone who would make me feel this way.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away. There were no words left to say, because everything we needed to communicate had already been said in that one simple moment.

And then, with that same mischievous glint in her eye, she looked up at me again and said, “Now… about that brand?” I couldn’t help but laugh, my heart swelling with affection for this woman who had not only claimed my heart but had made me see the world in ways I never imagined.

“Guess I’ll just have to take you up on that,” I teased, grinning down at her. “But I’m pretty sure there’s nothin’ more permanent than the way you’ve already got me.”

And with that, she laughed, the sound filling the night air, and for the first time in my life, I realized just how right it felt to be exactly where I was—with her, in this moment, in this life we were building together. The night moved on after that, filled with lighthearted chatter, but my mind kept wanderin’ back to Arbor’s words. You’ve finally come home. And for the first time in a long while, I realized… he was right. This was home. With Wendy. With the farm. With everything that had come together. The world around us faded away, the only thing left in focus was Wendy in my arms. Her breath was steady, but I could feel her heart thumpin’ against my chest, beatin’ in time with my own. She pulled back just enough to look up at me, those eyes of hers piercin’ right through me like she could see deep down into my soul. I’d always prided myself on bein’ a man of steady hands and steady nerves, but now, standin’ here with her, I realized she could shake my whole world with just a look.

Her smile, soft but sure, sent a shiver through me. When she leaned in just a bit closer, pressin’ herself up against me, the air got thick, heavy with something that felt like it was pullin’ me deeper. My heart pounded, my breath caught. It wasn’t just the way she looked—it was the way she made me feel. She had a way of makin’ everything around her seem so real, so vivid, that it felt like nothin’ else mattered but the two of us. Her hand slid from my chest to my jaw, gently tracing the line of it like she had every right to be there. I was dizzy from the way she made me feel, lightheaded with the power of it. “You’re incredible, you know that?” she whispered, her voice low, warm, full of affection.

I had to swallow hard, tryin’ to keep my composure, but truth be told, she’d already knocked that all to hell. “I’m just a fella who loves you, Wendy,” I managed to get out, my voice rough from the weight of it all. Her grin stretched even wider, and damn if it didn’t make the world brighter. “Well, lucky for you, I love you back, cowboy,” she teased, but I could hear the sincerity in her voice, feelin’ it in my bones. No question in my mind now. We were in this together.

She must’ve felt the shift in me ‘cause her smile softened, her fingers threading through my hair like she wasn’t ever gonna let me go. I could feel the weight of her touch, the way it anchored me, and I wasn’t goin’ anywhere.

“Wendy…” I whispered her name like a prayer, my chest tight as I fought for air. “You… You make me feel like I’m alive, like I’m real.”

She pulled back just a hair, steadyin’ herself before meetin’ my gaze. “I am real, Austin,” she said, voice firm and steady, like she was claimin’ her place in the world, like she was tellin’ me and the whole damn world that she was here to stay. And that confidence, hell, it was somethin’ I’d never seen before. “And I’m not afraid of bein’ who I am. Not anymore. Not with you.”

Her words hit me like a damn freight train, and I felt the grip she had on me, both physically and emotionally, as strong as a rope lassoed tight ’round my heart. She held me with a strength I hadn’t known anyone could possess, the quiet power of a woman who knew exactly who she was and wasn’t afraid to show it. And damn, it made me fall harder for her.

Her hand moved from my chest to my face, her thumb tracing across my skin, and I couldn’t stop lookin’ at her. My gaze drank her in, savorin’ every curve, every line, every inch of her. She had me in the palm of her hand, and I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“I’ve never been this sure about anything in my life,” she said softly, almost like a confession. “Not just about us, but about me. About everything.”

Her words, full of certainty, confidence, and self-assurance, made my chest swell. I didn’t know what it was about her, but she made me feel seen, like I wasn’t just some guy from the city tryin’ to make a life. I was somebody. I was hers. And she was mine.

I pulled her in closer, my hands cuppin’ her face like she was somethin’ too precious to let go of. “You’re incredible, Wendy. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone like you.”

She tilted her head, her eyes steady on me, that smile of hers not just a smile anymore but a damn promise. It was a promise that she was mine, and I was hers. And that made everything feel right in the world.

She leaned in, close enough now that I could feel her breath on my lips, whisperin’ soft as silk, “You’re mine, cowboy. All mine.” And in that moment, all the walls, all the doubts, the pieces of me that were still unsure—hell, they were gone. There wasn’t a single trace of that old life left. No more “city boy.” There was just me, the cowboy, standin’ here with her, and I was complete.

My heart raced, but this time, it was a good kind of fast. And as she held me tight, her confidence spillin’ into me like a steady stream, I couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest son of a gun in the world.

The soft glow of the evening sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm, golden hue over the room. Donny lay on his back on Wendy’s bed, his arm casually draped around her as she nestled into the crook of his shoulder. Her forehead grazed his jaw as she shifted to get more comfortable. The faint scent of her skin, a mix of something sweet and wild, lingered in the air between them.

Wendy sighed, her breath warm against his chest as she traced lazy circles on his stomach with her fingers. “You know, for all the chaos in our lives, moments like this make it feel… simple,” she murmured.

“Simple, huh?” Donny chuckled softly, his voice rumbling in his chest. “I don’t think anything about us is simple”

She smirked, glancing up at him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Okay, maybe not simple. But… I like that when I’m with you, everything else fades away,” she teased, giving them a gentle shake for emphasis.

My smile deepened as his hand slid down to her back, gently brushing my fingers against the small of her back just above her waist. She tensed for a moment, then relaxed, her body responding to my careful, affectionate touch. My fingertips traced the soft membrane of her back, moving slowly so as not to overwhelm her.

“You know, this is still new for me,” Wendy said softly, her voice betraying a mixture of vulnerability, contentedness, and curiosity. “I’m not used to… anyone touching me. Especially with them being so sensitive,”

“Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice gentle as my fingers continued their slow, calming strokes along her shoulder blades.

“No, it’s… actually kind of nice, too nice” she admitted, a small smile playing at her lips as she nestled closer to me.

My other hand found its way to her tummy, gently running along the length of it with the same care he’d shown her back. Wendy’s eyes fluttered closed as she melted further into my embrace, a soft sound of contentment escaping her lips.

“You always know how to make me feel safe,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“That’s the plan,” I said with a smile, my touch never faltering as I pet her tummy and shoulders in slow, soothing patterns. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me now.”

Her eyes softened as she rested her cheek against my chest again, listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. “Good. Because I can’t imagine going through all of this without you.” There was a vulnerability in her voice now, one she rarely let show. “You ground me, Austin. When I’m with you, I feel like I can handle whatever’s coming.”

I shifted, tightening my arm around her as I pulled her closer. “You’re stronger than you think, Wendy. You don’t need me to handle anything. But… I’ll be here anyway. Always.”

She smiled at that, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “That’s the thing. You always make me feel stronger. But I don’t want to be strong all the time. Sometimes I just want to be… here. With you. Like this.”

“I think I can live with that,” I said, my fingers continuing their gentle exploration of her body. “Besides, it’s not like I’m exactly looking for an excuse to be anywhere else.”

Wendy tilted her head up to look at me, her expression mischievous now. “Is that so? What if I told you I was going to turn into a giant succubus monster and you’d have to deal with all my dramatic mood swings forever?”

I raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Then I’d say bring it on.

I can handle your mood swings. I’ve already got a pretty good track record with you.”

She gave me a light smack on the chest, though there was no real force behind it. “Jerk.”

“Hey, you love it,” I teased, dipping my head to kiss her again, this time on the lips, lingering just a little longer.

Wendy grinned against my mouth, her hand sliding up to cup the side of my face. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

We lay there in silence for a while after that, the quiet between us comfortable and full of unspoken promises. The world outside felt far away, the weight of our lives reduced to nothing in the warmth of our shared space. Finally, Wendy broke the silence, her voice soft but steady. “No matter what happens… no matter who or what comes for us… I’ll always fight for you, Austin.”

I looked down at her, my heart swelling at the determination in her eyes. “And I’ll always be there, fighting right beside you. We’re in this together.” She smiled, that familiar spark of playful mischief returning to her gaze. “Good. Because I’m not letting you off the hook. Ever.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I murmured, my lips brushing hers once more as my hand found its way back to her cheeks, caressing them tenderly, sealing the quiet vow we both knew we'd keep for as long as it took—through every storm and shadow.

As we settled back into each other’s arms, the world could wait. For now, it was just us. As I continued to trace lines and trails around Wendy’s body

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