#sorry turns out i care way too much about animal crossing

[fic-girlie]

Two days in Hell

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Summary: You and Javier agree to watch your nephew for two days. Between chaos, laughter, and very inconvenient interruptions, you’re reminded just how much you love this messy little life together. Warnings: fluff, established relationship, explicit smut (18+), oral? (f receiving), fingering, language, dirty talk

You knew something was up the second you saw your sister standing on your porch.

She had that wide, tight smile—one that said she was hoping charm would get her through whatever she was about to dump on you. Her hair was pulled back in a quick twist that screamed airport urgency, and her husband stood behind her looking guilty and slightly terrified, which didn’t bode well.

Then you saw Ethan.

He popped out from behind her, cheeks already pink from excitement or chaos—you couldn’t tell. He was dragging a small suitcase covered in Marvel stickers, holding a juice box in one hand and a plastic dinosaur in the other like he was ready for battle.

“Heyyy,” your sister said, rocking on her heels. “I love you. Just want to say that right away. You’re my favorite. My one and only.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What’s going on?” you asked warily, already stepping aside to let them in.

“Okay, hear me out,” she began, striding inside and crouching down to unzip Ethan’s bag. “The sitter got food poisoning—like, real food poisoning. She sent photos. It’s a crime scene.”

“That’s unnecessary information.”

“We leave in two hours. International flight. Non-refundable.”

You turned slowly to look at Ethan, who had already made himself comfortable on your rug and was pulling things out of his suitcase like he was unpacking for a month. Socks. A stuffed lizard. A Batman mask. Two single shoes that didn’t match.

“Just two nights,” your sister said quickly. “And we packed everything. His tablet, his stuffed lizard—not the green one, he doesn’t like that one anymore—and his bedtime stories. He’s been really good lately. He just… talks a lot. He has questions. He likes facts.”

“Facts?”

“Animal facts. Space facts. Body facts.”

Ethan stood and chirped, “Did you know sharks can have virgin births?”

You blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Parthenogenesis!” he beamed. “It’s like a clone baby. But with fins.”

You turned slowly back to your sister, expression blank. “Are you sure I can’t say no?”

She smiled sweetly, backing toward the door. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—bye!”

The door shut with a soft thump.

Silence fell across the living room. You stood there staring at your nephew, who was now wearing the Batman mask upside down and jumping on one foot. And then Javier’s voice drifted in from the hallway.

“You adopt a kid while I was in the shower?”

You turned toward the voice as Javier walked into the room, towel slung over his shoulder, still slightly wet from the shower. His jeans weren’t fully buttoned, and his bare chest gleamed faintly from the steam. He froze halfway into the room when he spotted Ethan.

There was a very long pause.

Ethan looked up at him like he was sizing up a boss level in a video game. “You’re tall.”

Javier blinked. The silence stretched.

“You’re hairy, too.”

Javier looked at you. “Is he staying?”

You gave him a helpless look. “Just for two nights.”

“Nope. No way. I didn’t sign up for this.”

“It’s my sister’s kid. She begged.”

“I don’t care if it’s the Pope’s kid. That thing’s loud.”

Ethan took off the mask and said cheerfully, “I like dinosaurs and microwaves!”

“What does that even mean?” Javier asked, baffled.

“It means he’s five,” you muttered, walking over to help Ethan with his bag before he dumped it all out again.

Javier crossed his arms, jaw tightening. “I haven’t been near a kid since—Jesus, since my cousin’s quinceañera in ‘88. He peed on the cake.”

Ethan tugged on your sleeve. “Do you have a dog?”

“Nope,” you answered.

“Do you want a dog?”

You glanced at Javier. “Do we want a dog?”

He gave you a hard stare. “We’re not getting a dog.”

“Okay,” Ethan said, unfazed. “Do you have snacks? I had a granola bar but it melted in my pocket. It got squishy and then it exploded.”

“I hate everything that’s happening right now,” Javier muttered.

Still, you watched as he walked over to the kitchen and opened the pantry. Begrudgingly. Like a man accepting his fate. He reached for a box of crackers and tossed it to you.

“Tell him this is all he gets.”

You handed it to Ethan, who took it solemnly and sat on the couch like he was reviewing the day’s mission briefing.

“Do you live here?” he asked Javier.

“For my sins.”

“Do you have a job?”

“Not anymore.”

“What did you used to do?”

Javier opened the fridge, clearly stalling for time. “A lot of things I shouldn’t talk about with a five-year-old.”

“Were you a spy?”

“No.”

“A ninja?”

“No.”

“An DEA agent?”

That made Javier freeze. He closed the fridge door slowly. “Where did you learn that word?”

“My mom watched the news. But I’m not supposed to know.”

You were trying not to laugh, watching Javier glare at you like this was all somehow your fault. You threw your hands up in surrender.

Ethan kicked his legs against the couch, clearly unbothered. “Do you have a gun?”

“No,” Javier said quickly.

“Yes, but it’s locked up,” you corrected, because lying wouldn’t get you anywhere with a kid who liked facts.

Javier walked past you with a deep sigh and collapsed into his recliner like a man preparing for battle. “You better have tequila in the cabinet.”

“Not until he’s asleep.”

Ethan perked up. “Can I stay up till midnight?”

“No,” you both said at once.

He grinned. “Worth a try.”

You looked at Javier, who was rubbing his temple like he already had a headache. “It’s just two nights.”

“You said that like it’s a short amount of time.”

“You’ll survive.”

He narrowed his eyes at Ethan. “We’ll see.”

Ethan leaned over the side of the couch and whispered, “Is he always this grumpy?”

“No,” you said. “Just when he’s not getting laid.”

Javier choked on his own breath.

Ethan tilted his head. “What’s getting laid?”

Javier stood up instantly. “Okay! Time for a walk. Fresh air. Let’s go. Shoes. Now.”

You laughed so hard your side hurt.

Maybe this weekend wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

——

Dinner had been louder than a bar fight.

Between the pot of pasta boiling over, Ethan explaining how velociraptors would win in a fight against lions ("but only if the lions weren’t too hungry"), and the clatter of silverware being turned into imaginary spaceships, you were running dangerously low on patience.

And wine.

You wiped your hands on a towel and sighed as Ethan bounced in place on the kitchen chair, narrowly avoiding knocking over his juice box for the fifth time. His limbs never seemed to stop moving, like someone had wound him up and lost the key.

Javier stood near the counter, watching the chaos with narrowed eyes and a crooked smile that said: You dragged me into this, but I’m staying for the show.

He was in jeans and a soft black button-up with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. A slight sheen of heat clung to the air from the stove and the late Texas sun filtering through the window, dust motes dancing lazily behind him. He looked comfortable but alert, like a man who'd once lived in places where you didn’t relax—even in someone’s kitchen.

You felt his gaze sweep over you for a second, his mouth twitching. “You okay over there, chef?”

You gave him a wry smile. “Chef is a strong word. I’m surviving.”

Ethan grabbed a fork and began drumming on the table. “Are we eating yet? Because if I don’t eat soon, I might explode.”

“You said that fifteen minutes ago,” you reminded him.

“This time it’s serious,” he insisted.

“Five more minutes.”

Javier shifted closer, grabbed a dishtowel and began drying the salad bowl you had just washed. You tried not to look too shocked. “You doing dishes willingly?”

He shrugged. “Well, I’ve interrogated cartel lieutenants. This feels easier.”

Ethan stopped drumming. “Cartel what?”

You turned around just in time to see him leaning forward, elbows on the table, curiosity practically dripping off him.

Javier froze for a second, then turned slowly toward the boy.

“Cartel guys,” he said, voice a notch lower. “Bad people.”

Ethan's eyes grew wide. “You really did that? Like… fought them?”

You could see the look creeping onto Javier’s face—part caution, part discomfort, like a man being carefully pulled back into a memory he wasn’t sure he wanted to revisit.

“Wait,” Ethan said, sitting up straighter. “Are you really a DEA agent?”

The room stilled.

Your hands paused mid-wipe on the counter. Javier didn’t speak right away. You could hear the hum of the refrigerator and the quiet simmering of the sauce on the stove.

Javier met Ethan’s gaze. “I was.”

Ethan’s jaw dropped like he’d just been told Santa was real and had a rocket ship. “No way. Like… a real one? Like on TV?”

“Not like on TV,” Javier said, shaking his head. “TV leaves out the part where you spend twelve hours in a suit that smells like smoke and blood, and no one tells you thank you.”

His tone was flat, not bitter—but there was something buried beneath it. You saw the way his eyes dipped to the side, how his fingers gripped the edge of the dish towel just a little too tight.

Ethan didn’t notice. He was too dazzled. “Did you have a gun?”

“Yes.”

“Did you shoot people?”

You stepped in then. “Ethan.”

But Javier held up a hand.

“Sometimes,” he said honestly. “If we had to. If it meant protecting people.”

Ethan blinked, quiet for a rare moment. “Did you wear a vest and yell ‘freeze!’ and stuff?”

Now Javier smirked, just a little. “Once or twice.”

Ethan was still buzzing. “Did you drive a car really fast? Like in a chase?”

“That happened.”

“Did you crash?”

“No. I’m good at not dying.”

Ethan practically vibrated in his seat. “That’s so cool.”

You saw it then—the soft tug at the corner of Javier’s mouth. That quiet, reluctant warmth. He wasn’t used to anyone calling him cool. Certainly not wide-eyed kids who didn’t see the dark corners behind the job.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and flipped it open. An old, worn DEA badge rested inside. It had clearly been handled a thousand times, the leather creased, the photo of a younger, sterner Javier tucked into the plastic sleeve. He handed it to Ethan without ceremony.

Ethan held it like it was made of gold. “Whoa.”

“Careful,” Javier said, voice low. “That thing’s seen more action than you’ve had birthdays.”

“Can I show it to my friends?”

“No.”

You laughed softly as you set the salad bowl on the table. “Don’t encourage him too much. He’s already decided he’s going to be a paleontologist-spy.”

Ethan looked up seriously. “Actually, I changed my mind. I’m gonna be a DEA agent. Like Javi.”

You saw something flicker in Javier’s eyes—just a flash of something unreadable. Not pride. Not regret. Maybe both.

He nodded once, slow and quiet. “Finish school first, kid.”

“I am in school!”

“Finish all of it.”

Ethan grinned and turned back to examining the badge like he was trying to absorb secrets from it through sheer will.

You leaned closer to Javier while Ethan was distracted. “You didn’t have to tell him all that.”

“I didn’t tell him anything dangerous,” he said. “Besides… he’s not wrong.”

You blinked. “About what?”

He looked down at Ethan. “About the badge. About… me. I did some things I’m not proud of. But not everything was bad. Some of it… was worth it.”

You reached for his hand beneath the table, gave it a small squeeze. His fingers curled around yours.

And for a moment, with the smell of pasta in the air, a sleepy boy rambling about future spy missions, and a former agent holding your hand across the dinner table—you believed him.

It was worth it.

——

The house had finally, blessedly, quieted down.

After a marathon of kid-friendly chaos—dinosaur trivia, spaghetti on the walls, the Great Lego War in the living room, and a bath that ended with more water on the floor than in the tub—you and Javier had miraculously managed to get Ethan tucked in for the night.

You’d read him three bedtime stories (he had rejected Goodnight Moon in favor of a dramatic retelling of Jurassic Park), calmed his nerves about werewolves, promised that if anything tried to bite him in the dark, “Uncle Javi” would bite back harder, and left his door open a crack—per his very specific instructions.

And now? Silence. Glorious silence.

The overhead lights were off. A single low lamp glowed warm in the corner of your bedroom as you stepped inside, still barefoot, dressed in an old t-shirt that fell to mid-thigh. You sighed as you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment like you’d survived a war zone.

Javier was on the bed already, half-reclined against the pillows, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweats and the most exhausted expression you’d ever seen on him. His eyes tracked you lazily, the corner of his mouth lifting in that slow, lazy smirk that still sent heat curling through you even after all this time.

“You look like you’ve been through something,” he said, voice rough with fatigue.

You let out a low groan and crossed the room to collapse onto the bed next to him. “I negotiated with a seven-year-old about the existence of werewolves for thirty straight minutes. I deserve a medal.”

“You deserve something better than a medal,” he murmured, shifting closer, his hand sliding up your bare thigh.

You felt yourself melt toward him, his warmth, the familiar scent of his cologne, the way his touch made your body ache in anticipation. You turned toward him, his lips already grazing yours, and the kiss was slow—soft and full of all the words neither of you were bothering to say aloud.

Your fingers slid over his chest, tracing the slope of his collarbone, the strong muscles under your palm. He moved closer, the heat between you rising fast, slow friction building with each breath. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers dragging lightly over your hip. You gasped softly against his mouth.

“God, I’ve missed this,” he muttered against your lips.

“Me too,” you whispered, tugging him closer, “finally, some peace and—”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You both froze. Your heart dropped into your stomach.

Javier blinked, then slowly pulled his head back and looked toward the door like it had personally betrayed him.

“Tell me that’s the wind,” he murmured.

You closed your eyes, inhaled slowly, then—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“…Or a ghost,” Javi added dryly. “One of those damn werewolves, maybe.”

You sighed and sat up, dragging your fingers through your hair. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

You padded across the room, opening the door to find Ethan standing in the hallway in his pajama pants and dinosaur hoodie, one sock on and the other mysteriously missing. His face was squished in sleepy confusion, but he was clearly not ready to let the night go.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He held up his plush lizard like it was a badge of authority. “I thought I heard something… like someone crying. Or maybe a… ghost again. Or a sad ghost.”

You blinked, glanced back at Javi, who had flopped dramatically face-first into the pillows, muttering curses in Spanish.

You bent down a little. “Ethan, remember how we said there aren’t ghosts?”

“But what if they’re just… shy?”

Behind you, Javier groaned into the pillow. “Please, just put him in the guest room with a priest and holy water. I’ll call the Pope myself.”

You held in a laugh and glanced back at the boy. “Want to come lie down with us for a little while until you feel okay again?”

He perked up instantly. “Do you have snacks?”

“No,” Javier called flatly. “But we were about to.”

You cleared your throat, ushered Ethan in gently. “No snacks, just quiet time. Come on.”

He crawled onto the bed like he was claiming territory, planting himself between you and Javier with a self-satisfied sigh. You laid back beside him, Javier turning his head toward you with the most mournful look in his eyes.

“This is cruel,” he murmured under his breath.

“It’s temporary,” you whispered, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand.

For a moment, the room was still. The heat between you and Javi had dissolved into something warmer, quieter. Ethan snuggled deeper between you, sighing in contentment.

“Night,” he mumbled, already slipping under again.

You turned your head, facing Javi across the pillows. His eyes found yours in the dim light, and he looked like he wanted to laugh and groan at the same time.

“You were saying something about peace and quiet?” he whispered.

You smiled. “Maybe tomorrow night.”

He reached over, lacing his fingers with yours beneath the blanket. “I’m holding you to that.”

——

The door to the bedroom clicked softly shut, and for the first time in two days, silence settled around you like a warm blanket. The hallway was dark, and the house finally still—Ethan tucked in, lights off, dishes done, cartoons silenced.

It was just you and Javi again. No Paw Patrol theme song. No spilled juice. No “I don’t like this cereal.” Just the two of you, in the low lamplight of your shared bedroom, standing a few feet apart and staring at each other like you’d been holding your breath for hours.

He moved first.

Slow steps brought him closer, and then he was right in front of you, that well-worn softness in his brown eyes folding into something hungrier. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing under your lip, and bent to kiss you like he meant it. Like he’d been waiting all damn day. It started gentle—his lips coaxing, warm—but it didn’t stay that way.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth as he pulled you closer, his hands sliding down your back and around your waist, guiding you to him until your hips met. The warmth of him, the quiet strength in his touch, it made your whole body soften. And then his mouth opened just slightly, deepening the kiss with slow confidence, his tongue brushing lightly against yours.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice rough, low. “You. That little sundress. The way you bent over the fridge…”

Your laugh broke softly in your throat, more breath than sound, as he nudged your head back with his nose and began to kiss down your neck—slow, open-mouthed kisses that lingered a little too long, teeth grazing skin. “You’re the one who said we had to be good.”

His hand slid up under your dress, knuckles grazing your thigh as his mouth moved lower. “Yeah, well, I’ve been good for two days. That’s enough.”

Your dress pooled at your feet in seconds, and he stepped back for a breath to look at you in nothing but your underwear. His eyes traced every inch of you, heat settling low in his gaze. “Fuck, baby.”

You moved toward him and started to tug at his shirt, your fingers working slowly down the buttons, revealing sun-warmed skin, the little amount of soft hair on his chest. Once it was off, you leaned in, kissing your way across his collarbone, your hands sliding down his abdomen to the waistband of his jeans.

His breath hitched when you touched him through the denim, and his hips twitched forward, subtle but telling. You smiled against his skin. “You okay there, Peña?”

“Keep talkin’ like that,” he warned, voice low and dangerous, “and you’re not gonna walk straight tomorrow.”

You snorted softly and stepped back toward the bed, laying down with a slow stretch, your legs bending just slightly at the knee. “Promises, promises.”

He didn’t smile.

He crawled up over you, knees bracketing your hips, his hands planting beside your head as he lowered himself down until you could feel the heat of him, now without the jeans and boxers on, hard and thick against your center through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Last chance to back out,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Shut up and kiss me.”

His lips met yours again, hungrier now—less patient, more needy. You felt his hand slide down between you, pushing your underwear aside with practiced ease. And when he touched you—bare fingers, slow and knowing—you moaned into his mouth, your hips lifting toward him instinctively.

“Jesus,” he groaned, dragging two fingers through your slick. “You’re soaked.”

“You gonna do something about it?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

He pushed inside you with a slow, steady thrust, inch by inch, until he was fully seated, your body stretched to fit him. Your back arched at the fullness, your hands tightening in his hair. He didn’t move at first—just stayed there, buried in you, his forehead against yours, both of you breathing in shallow, shared gasps.

“You feel like fucking heaven,” he whispered, voice rough as gravel.

He started to move then, slow and deep, his hips rolling in a rhythm that left you gasping, legs wrapped tight around him. The way he moved was deliberate—long strokes, pelvis grinding against your clit just right, his mouth never far from yours. Kisses pressed to your throat, your shoulder, your cheek.

Your body tightened beneath him, the pressure building, your moans muffled by his mouth, your nails leaving faint red trails across his back.

And just as you felt yourself spiraling higher—so close—

There was a knock. A tiny, unsure knock at the door.

Both of you froze.

You felt him still inside you, a quiet groan vibrating in his chest as his forehead dropped to your shoulder.

Another knock. And then—

“Um… can I come in? I forgot my dinosaur in here.”

Javi cursed under his breath and rolled slowly off of you, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up over both your bodies. You scrambled to keep your voice steady, your skin flushed and buzzing.

“Uh—hang on, honey! We’ll get it for you!”

“Okay…” came the small, muffled reply.

You pressed your face into Javi’s chest, mortified, and he laughed quietly, brushing a hand down your back. “Two fuckin’ days,” he whispered.

You groaned. “We’re cursed.”

“Think it’s a sign we’re ready for kids?”

Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. “Don’t you dare.”

He grinned.

Still hard under the sheets.

Still very much unfinished.

And still… yours.

——

The door closed behind him with a gentle click, and for the first time that night, Javier exhaled like he meant it.

He stood still for a beat, hand on the knob, listening. Nothing but the quiet hum of the house. No footsteps. No dramatic reenactments of prehistoric battles. Just blessed, golden silence.

He ran a tired hand down his face and dragged it through his hair, muttering, “Goddamn kid acts like he’s on cocaine.”

You looked up from the bed, where you were curled under the blanket in one of his old worn-in t-shirts now. The hem barely covered your thighs. You gave him a crooked smile, the kind that always made his pulse tick a little faster. “You say that like you didn’t just spend ten minutes trying to find that dumb little green dinosaur.”

He gave you a look. “You wanna be the one to explain extinction to a seven-year-old at bedtime?”

You laughed softly, watching him reach for the button of his jeans—which he picked up in a hurry—with a practiced flick. The sound of it made your stomach tighten in anticipation.

“He tucked it under his pillow,” Javier muttered, unzipping with one hand while rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “Told me the dinosaur watches him sleep to make sure the monsters don’t get him.”

You tilted your head. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

“No, you’re sweet,” he said, voice lower now, that usual hint of heat curling under his words. He stepped out of his jeans and crossed the room slowly, eyes dragging over you like a man who’d been denied too long. “You… were a menace all damn day.

You smirked. “Maybe I didn’t.”

“You’re a goddamn liar,” he said, and suddenly his mouth was on yours—hungry, urgent, full of heat and something close to desperation.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders instantly, tugging him up into the bed as you kissed him back with equal force. His weight settled over you, firm and warm, his hips pinning you to the mattress.

It was clumsy at first—teeth bumping, noses grazing, hands greedy. You hadn’t been alone all day. Not really alone. You hadn’t been able to touch him like this, hadn’t been able to just let go. And now that you had him here, finally, the air buzzed with want.

Javier's lips dragged down your jaw, to the slope of your neck where he sucked gently, tongue flicking over the mark before it even had a chance to bloom. Your breath came faster, hips lifting instinctively, and he groaned against your skin when he felt how warm and ready you already were.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” you whispered, voice barely there as his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt. “Thinking about you.”

His palm spread wide over your stomach, then down, fingers teasing at the edge of your panties. “Yeah?” he murmured, mouth brushing the curve of your collarbone. “Thinkin’ about me doing what, sweetheart?”

“Touching me.”

He chuckled, low and deep, then dragged his fingers between your legs—slowly, softly—just enough to feel the heat there. You sucked in a breath, hips twitching.

“Like that?” he asked.

You nodded, eyes half-lidded, and he kissed your breast through the cotton of the shirt, letting his fingers dip further. He slipped one finger past the damp fabric, sliding through your slick heat. You gasped and arched into him.

“Christ,” he hissed, rubbing slow circles just the way he knew you liked. “You’re already soaked.”

“Been like that for hours, that kid didn't really help in my case, ” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He dipped lower, dragging the shirt higher with his mouth as he kissed down your stomach. “I’m gonna taste you, baby,” he said against your skin. “Take my time.”

You let your thighs fall open for him, heartbeat in your throat, pleasure beginning to roll in like a tide—

Knock knock knock.

You both froze.

Javier’s face was hovering inches from your thighs. Your hand was still tangled in his hair. The knock came again—soft, but insistent.

“Uncle Javi?”

You whispered, “No fucking way.”

Javier let out a full-body groan and dropped his forehead against your stomach, muttering something dark in Spanish.

“Uncle Javi?” Ethan repeated. “I forgot to ask something!”

“What could you possibly need now?” Javier growled under his breath, reluctantly pushing himself up and tugging the blanket over your legs before standing. His erection was painfully obvious through his boxers, and he adjusted himself with a grimace. “You owe me so fucking bad after this.”

You covered your mouth to muffle your laugh as he stormed to the door, yanking it open a crack.

“What is it, Ethan?” he asked, trying very hard to sound calm.

The little boy stood there rubbing his eyes, clutching the edge of his t-shirt. “Can dinosaurs go to heaven if they die?”

Javi blinked.

“…What?”

“Like, if they were nice. Or if they helped people.”

He sighed and leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah, buddy. The nice ones go to dino heaven. Go back to bed.”

Ethan beamed. “Okay! G’night again!”

“Night.” Javier shut the door firmly this time and turned around, arms slack at his sides.

You were still lying there in bed, flushed and breathless, legs curled up beneath the blanket.

“Well?” you said with a grin.

He gave you a look of absolute defeat. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

You laughed so hard you nearly choked. “Dino heaven? That’s what stopped you?”

He started toward the bed again, climbing in beside you with a groan. “This time I’m locking the goddamn door and putting that toy in the microwave.”

You kissed him hard and slow. “We still have the rest of the night.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You better not be lying again.”

——

The scent of frying bacon hung thick in the air, drifting through the open archway from the kitchen into the warm, sun-drenched living room. The early morning light spilled through the window in wide golden beams, catching the dust motes in the air and wrapping the entire house in a sleepy, amber haze.

Your hair was still damp from the shower as you stood barefoot in one of Javier’s old shirts, flipping scrambled eggs in the pan with one hand while holding your coffee mug in the other. Behind you, Javier moved quietly through the kitchen, shirtless and low-voiced, ruffling his hair dry with a towel before he reached for the orange juice in the fridge.

Ethan sat at the small table, legs too short to reach the floor, swinging idly back and forth as he bit into a stack of cinnamon-sugar toast with the kind of joy only a seven-year-old could summon. His dinosaur pajamas were rumpled and his cheeks were sticky with syrup, but he looked so happy and at home that it made something warm settle behind your ribs.

It was an easy, quiet morning.

Too quiet, in hindsight.

“Hey, Uncle Javi?” Ethan said, his voice cutting through the calm like a sudden bell.

Javier, halfway through pouring juice into a small cup, paused. “Yeah, bud?”

Ethan looked up with big eyes and the complete, devastating sincerity of a child about to absolutely ruin your life. “What were you and Auntie doing last night?”

You froze. The spatula paused mid-scramble. Javier turned toward you slowly, brows slightly raised like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard that right.

You turned, heart skipping a beat, and tried your best at an innocent smile. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”

Ethan chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “I heard… noises.”

Javier blinked. “Noises?”

The boy nodded, unconcerned. “Like thumping. A lot of thumping. And groaning. And, like… kinda like when you move a heavy couch? But over and over.” He squinted. “Were you wrestling?”

You nearly dropped the pan. Javier made a noise suspiciously close to a cough and sat down heavily in his chair.

“Uh—well…” you cleared your throat, trying to avoid looking at Javier’s completely amused face across the table. “This is an old house, remember? Makes lots of weird noises.”

Ethan looked skeptical. “It didn’t sound like house noises.”

You slid a plate of eggs onto the table and poured yourself more coffee with trembling hands. “Maybe Javi stubbed his toe.”

“Stubbed it a lot, then,” Ethan said brightly, kicking his feet as he picked up his fork.

Javier choked on his coffee.

Ethan’s brows furrowed with the serious, wide-eyed concern of a child trying to make sense of the world. “Were you guys scared? Should I sleep with a bat next time?”

You sat down beside Javier, reaching under the table to nudge his leg with yours. He gave you a sidelong glance, clearly biting back a grin.

“No monsters,” you promised gently, ruffling Ethan’s hair. “Just the house being silly.”

Ethan leaned in closer over his plate. “It sounded like you were growling.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose. Javier gave up on dignity entirely and ran a hand down his face.

“Well,” Javi said finally, voice thick with fake authority, “sometimes grown-ups make weird noises when they’re… fighting the monsters.”

Ethan gasped. “There was a monster?”

You stared at Javier like you were going to kill him. He just shrugged.

“Yeah. Big one,” he said seriously, leaning back in his chair. “Had, uh… claws.”

Ethan was enthralled. “Was it in the closet?”

You tried not to smile. “Sure. For a minute. Then we kicked its ass.”

Ethan nodded slowly, very impressed. “Next time, can I help?”

“No,” you and Javier said at the same time, a little too quickly.

He accepted that with a shrug and dug back into his eggs.

You relaxed, letting your hand slip onto Javier’s thigh under the table, and he turned to look at you with that small, private smile that never failed to make your stomach flutter.

“Think we’re in the clear?” he whispered.

You tilted your head. “Until he tells my sister you were fighting a monster in bed.”

Javier groaned softly and let his head fall back against the chair. “We’re dead.”

Ethan perked up. “Why are you dead?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, snatching your coffee.

Javi nudged you with his knee. “You think he’ll forget?”

“He still remembers that time you dropped a taco on your foot and said the f-word.”

“Shit,” he muttered.

“That one too.”

Ethan giggled and took a sip from his juice box like a king in his castle, entirely unaware of the storm he’d just created.

You and Javi just sat there, defeated but smiling, sipping your coffee and juice as the morning sun poured through the window. Despite the awkwardness and the sleep-deprived haze, something about it all made your chest ache in the best way.

A weird little glimpse of what life might look like—chaotic, hilarious, embarrassing—but full of warmth, and laughter, and maybe something even deeper.

You glanced sideways at Javi and found him already looking at you, that little smirk still playing at his lips.

“Next time,” he murmured under his breath, “we wait till he’s back with his parents.”

You raised your mug toward him. “Agreed.”

Ethan looked up from his toast. “Wait till who’s back?”

You and Javier groaned at the same time.

[arahdow]

BE CAREFUL WITH YOUR QUILLS !

Pairing. Sonic x reader, Shadow x reader, Silver x reader, Knuckles x reader

Content. fem!reader. fluff, tiny silly argument in shadow’s, cuddling, overall soft stuff.

Word count. 1.6 k

A/N. writing sonic was the hardest thing i’ve ever done aH idk why!! i’ll make sure to write him more often to get used to his personality aH anywaaay, again, not beta read, i’m really sacrificing my sleep hours for this one sjdjs hope y’all like it!!

SONIC

making you run and accidentally crashing with him.

“Come on! You’re being too slow!” Sonic screamed as he kept on running, his feet moving way too fast for her liking. 

Just a few days ago, the blue hedgehog encouraged his partner to go out for a run together, and she knew he was an athletic man, but this? This was torture.

“Sonic… Wait… I can’t” her feet were moving so slow compared to his, especially when she wasn’t used to running this much. 

“One foot in front of the other! Come on!” Sonic said laughing, as he ran backwards, looking at the girl. She huffed with annoyance, the hedgehog still winning even when running like that!

After a while, the blue animal ran faster and almost disappeared from her sight. The girl took a deep breath and started running faster. Somehow, the fear of getting lost in the forest making her move, helping with adrenaline. Suddenly her body was moving faster than before. Way faster! 

Her body, sadly, started to grow tired quickly because of the energy she was using. Her lower limbs suddenly getting wobbly, but somehow kept running. Out of instinct, she thought.

That was until she realized she was about to crash into a stone wall at the end of the road, it was getting dangerously close!

The girl stretched her arms to cushion the blow. A violent ‘Hey!’ was all she could hear as she crashed, not on a stone wall, but rather a soft body. Sonic’s body to be clear.

He used his own body to soften the crash, but something was wrong.

“Ouch! Wha-”

She looked down and saw one of Sonic’s blue quills stuck on her shoulder. “Damn… Ouch.” 

The animal was sprawled upon her, but quickly recovered to take a look at his injured girlfriend. “Oh, I’m sorry darling,” he said with a sheepish smile, helping her stand up, careful not to mess with the quill. “but it’s kinda your fault to run that fast, thought you were about to destroy time and spac- Ouch! Why are you hitting me!” He said with a pained laugh.

“You’re an asshole! Help me get this out!” She complained, annoyed that the man was making fun of her.

“Aw, don’t be all grumpy, I promise not to make you run again.” He said, pushing her slightly to take her to the infirmary. “Hey, maybe next time you can try Shadow’s air shoe-”

“Don’t even finish that thought.”

SHADOW

silly old couple argument

���Move.” The girl didn’t reply, her gaze focused on the tv. “Get up.”

“Git ip.” she mocked.

The black hedgehog grumbled, sitting really close to her, almost on her.

“Hey-”

“This is my side of the couch, you know that.” He said as he crossed his arms. “I don’t like this channel.”

“You don’t like anything, Shadow.” She complained, not giving him the remote.

They’ve been living together for a year, two years being a couple, and they still bickered like an old couple. It became something usual between them, and it got even worse when speaking of the sofa. There was only this purple sofa in the living room, both her and Shadow liked it, but there was just something about the spot on the far left that was perfect. For both of them.

So if they were together in the house, it was usual for them to fight over the sofa spot, like they were doing now.

“I’m feeling hot, you need to get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, you’re the one occupying my place!”

“Shadow!” she pushed the hedgehog with her shoulder, as he pressed even harder on her.

With a huff, she turned and put her hands on him to push him again, when a quill suddenly pinched her hand. 

“Ow!” She exclaimed, looking at the dark quill stuck on her. “You can have your stupid place on the couch!” the girl said as she stuck her tongue and got up to the kitchen, looking for some tweezers to take the quill out.

Not many long after, the man got into the kitchen, following her, taking her arm in his hand. “Hey-”

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking intently at the sensitive red spot on her hand. Pressing his lips, he brought her hand under the faucet to clean the wound. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. Please forgive me.” 

The girl snorted. “It’s alright though, I was just messing with you, but you were seriously pressed, huh? Pressed enough to hurt me.” She said with a fake tone of hurt on her voice.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna let this down, are you?”

She gasped and whined, putting on a pouty face, “Ow! It hurts! Please! Why are you so mean to me?”

“Alright alright, you can have the couch for today.” He sighed, shaking his head with humor.

The girl smiled, her face expression going back to normal. Turning happily, the girl kissed his cheek before running to the couch. “Love you, Shads!” 

SILVER

cuddling after a long day but uh oh…

After a tiring day outside, he wanted nothing more than to be at home, eat the food his girl made for him and spend time with her. It was a simple plan, and the cherry on top? Cuddling with her on bed, his face pressed on her stomach as she threaded his quills.

It was a usual occurrence, both of them lying down in silence, sometimes him laying on her lap, sometimes her on his, but they spent most of their time cheek to cheek.

“Silver…” She whispered, afraid of disturbing him. But he didn’t reply, instead, a soft snore broke his silence.

The girl giggled a bit as she kept on caressing his face and quills. It was times like this where she found herself falling once again for her hedgehog lover. She was actually reading a book on her other hand, so her attention was mostly directed to it.

Being immersed on the story, she got really focused on the sentences, suddenly drifting off from her task on her other hand. She unconsciously made her limb move in erratic ways, as she tried to keep on doing both things at the same time.

That was until she felt a slight sting on her hand. Jolting, she yelped as she retreated her hand from his body. The movement was so sudden, Silver opened his sleepy eyes, sensing something wrong.

Leaning back enough so he could see his partner in the eye, he found instead a look of slight pain as she held her hand in front of her face, a silverish quill stuck on her palm.

“Oh chaos, dear, your hand!” He expressed, incorporating as he held her hand for a bit. Using his telekinesis, he brought the aid kit to bed. Doing a careful procedure, he took the quill out from her hand, making her hiss at the feeling.

“I’m sorry…” He said.

“Don’t be, it was my fault, I was completely distracted by the story.” She replied, looking at the book beside her.

Silver took a look, as he kept patching her hand. “Hey! That’s the book I recommended the other day!” 

“It is! And it’s so good! I really loved it when the protagonist saved the kids from the falling building.” 

“That was my favorite part too!” He said. Both of them laughed and kept on talking about the book. He was really happy to have her in his life.

KNUCKLES

It’s shedding season! And your roomie-bf is in the house!

Cleaning after an echidna warrior was difficult, especially when he kept bringing his dirty shoes inside her home, her food taken, and her bed occupied. But she honestly loved Knuckles company, so she carried on with it.

It was starting to get a whole lot colder outside, as the temperature began to cool down. It was that time of the year where the island became a little snowglobe, so the echidna spent more time at her partner’s home than anywhere else.

Today she needed to do the laundry, piles of dirty clothes started to form, and even though Knuckles tried to convince her to stop using clothes like him, that still wasn’t on her plans, at least not on a short term.

Sighing, she started to walk towards the laundry room, a pile of white clothes on her arms, making seeing the floor almost impossible. Knuckles was sleeping in her room, so she let him. She’ll make him fold the clothes afterwards either way. Sure, she’d let him crash whenever he needed it, but it came with a price.

Opening the door of the room, the girl stepped inside. But she wasn't ready to feel an electric pain coursing from the bottom of her feet to her core. A scared scream left her throat as the pile of clothes fell from her hands. Tripping, the girl fell on her butt with a thud. Not a second later, the echidna was already punching the laundry’s room door, breaking it. His breathing agitated as he saw his significant other on the floor.

“What happened?” He asked, worried that someone might have come into her home. 

The girl crawled, starting to search in between the clothes as she stumbled upon a red quill. Taking it in between her fingers, she showed it to the animal, furrowed eyebrows on her face.

Knuckles saw the quill with curious eyes. “You stepped on a quill of mine?” 

She threw the quill at him, half annoyed. “Of course I did! Don’t go around shedding your stuff please. Look! Now my foot hurts because of it.” She said as she looked at her now destroyed door. “And that too!” The mammal listened to her words, and before she could complain for anything else, he got closer to take the girl in his arms, an easy task for him, and brought her to the sofa. Laying her down, he put a gloved hand on his own chest.

“I’ll take care of the laundry to compensate for it.” He oathed, the girl surprised for his serious face, snorting in the process.

“That’d be nice.” She said, as she looked at her foot, not swollen or anything. “I could help you though-”

“No, you stay there.” He demanded as he strided to the laundry room.

A moment later, he came back stomping to the living room again. 

“Uhm… How does the machine that washes clothes works?”

[i-dared-myself]

Hard to Say

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: happy go lucky older sister figure of a skijigi that reader usually is has faded and reader is going through a ROUGH depressive episode constantly zoning out, isolated, barely eats, she doesn’t really talk to the boys anymore, gets caught crying a couple times, etc and obvi the boys help her out and remind her they’re there n all n just HEAVY angst and HEAVY comfort 

Cw: Reader is depressed and skips a couple meals. Plz plz plz don’t read if it might trigger something.

Being staff is fun. There’s pressure sure but not as much as the idols face.

Plus, you’re faceless. Your face is blurred if you are accidentally caught on camera, and you wear masks most of the time. 

But maybe… Maybe that isn’t the greatest sometimes.

You don’t really get recognized for your work. It’s just brushed aside so that the idols can shine. Which is fine. That’s your job. But it’s frustrating when no one appreciates the effort you put in.

So you work harder, and somehow end up working closely to Stray Kids. You wouldn’t say that you’re best friends with them, but they remember things about you. They remember when your lunch break is and just so happen to take their breaks at the same time.

But they’re just being nice. It’s their job, just as yours is to make them look good.

Although you find that you go on a lot more personal tasks for them. Like helping Hyunjin pick which pictures to use on his Instagram posts. Or listening as Jisung complains about a terrible anime ending.

But the working so hard has led to you being burnt out. You’re fallen into a pit of depression and can’t bring yourself to care.

You’re so immersed in your thoughts that you don’t even notice Minho until he’s settled in the chair next to yours.

“What are you doing?” he asks curiously. 

You glance over your phone at him, crossing your legs. “Uh, just looking at some stuff. Do you need something?”

“No,” he says, opening his lunch. You continue to gaze at your phone, avoiding conversation. That’s too much work and you don’t care enough for it.

“Okay,” you reply, just as shortly as him. If you have a reunion of high school friends tomorrow, do you really have to go? You just don’t feel like having to force a smile.

“-I say?” Minho waves his hand in front of your face, scowling fiercely.

You blink at him unsurely. “Sorry?”

Mingi’s eyebrows draw together into an irritated expression you recognize as worry. “That’s what I thought. What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” you ask, absently deciding that you would have to go. Maybe it would be what you need to lift your spirits.

“There!” Minho thrusts an accusatory finger in your direction, lips tightening. “You just did it again! You keep zoning out!”

You huff and turn your face away. “No I’m not. I’m fine.”

“Minho!” Seungmin calls from the doorway. “Chan needs you. He wants your opinion on- Oh, hey.”

You force a strained smile at him. “Hi.”

Minho stands, glaring at you. “Eat your lunch. And don’t think that this talk isn’t over!”

You throw your lunch away as soon as he’s gone. Seungmin watches in mild concern, but doesn’t say anything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of your coworkers are going out for drinks. They invited you along, but you politely declined. You didn’t feel like forcing conversation with a bunch of people you don’t really know.

“Taking the bus home?” Changbin gently asks as you search your pockets for your phone.

“Yeah.” You locate your device and check the time before grabbing your non-eaten lunch. Maybe you’ll have it for dinner so you don’t have to cook or find dinner.

“Did you want a ride?” Changbin offers. “I was going that way.”

“No. I’m fine.” You turn and walk away, staring at your phone. You don’t have any texts or anything, but you don’t want to talk. It’s too tiring.

“Are you sure? Because I know that your usual route-“

“I’m fine!” Tears burn at your eyes and you wipe them away before he can see. But they’re spilling out faster than you can catch, and you’re beginning to hyperventilate. “I’m fine!”

“Hey, what’s-“ Changbin reaches out for you before drawing his hand away. “Let’s sit down, okay?”

You shake your head, but follow him to a bench anyways. The air outside the building is chilly, but you don’t care enough to pull the jacket tied on your waist over your shoulders.

“What’s going on?” Changbin softly asks. He ruffles your hair. “Did you have a bad day?”

You sniffle and rub at your eyes, avoiding eye contact. Changbin hums and doesn’t push the matter further.

The two of you sit in silence for a minute, before you see your bus drive by. You cry harder, knowing that you’ll have to wait even longer to crawl into bed.

“I can drive you home,” Changbin suggests again. “But did you want to talk about whatever this is?”

“No,” you say, shivering. “I just- I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, let’s get you home.” Changbin gets to his feet, passing his hands up your arms in an attempt to warm you. “I’m driving Jisung too if that’s okay. If you don’t want to deal with him right now, I can make him walk.”

You laugh. You laugh for the first time in what feels like weeks where you don’t have to force it out.

It feels good.

“No,” you respond, ignoring Changbin’s fond smile. “He can come.”

You only have to wait a little bit for Jisung to come skipping out of the building, grinning widely when he catches sight of you. He waves, and you muster the energy to give one back.

“We’re taking her home,” Changbin informs Jisung. “She gets to sit in the passenger’s seat and you get the back.”

“What? Why?” Jisung whines. He huffs in protest, crossing his arms. 

“No arguing,” Changbin sharply says. “Now get in the car before I leave you here.”

On the ride home, you somehow end up staring out the window in a daze. The conversation goes over your head as you zone out, not even thinking about anything in particular. 

Jisung reaches from the back to poke at your shoulder, startling you out of your state. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, sinking into your seat more. You see Changbin glance over before focusing on the road again. “Just… Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jisung hesitantly says. “But just, like, you can talk to us. We’re cool.”

“The coolest,” Changbin agrees.

“So if there’s anything bothering you, we’re here,” Jisung finishes.

You blink to stop tears from rolling out. “Okay. But I’m fine.”

And that night as you throw yourself into bed, you cry harder. Why is it so hard to tell someone?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A night out with old friends, as it turns out, didn’t help you. You’re still in this realm of melancholy and can’t seem to figure out how to tell someone.

People keep offering, and you keep rejecting help. Why? Why is it so hard?

“Hey.” Hyunjin sits next to you, opening his lunch. “What do you have?”

“Oh. I didn’t bring anything.” You stare into your coffee dully. 

“What?” Hyunjin glances over, lips thinning with disapproval. “Why not?”

“Don’t want it,” you murmur, standing up. You walk out of the lunchroom, ending your break early. You just need to keep yourself busy.

“Oh, hi!” Chan says as you push past him. “Isn’t it your lunch?”

“I think it is,” Felix chimes in, smiling widely at you. “Where are you going?”

“Wait, we’re going out for lunch?” Jeongin pokes his head out of a nearby room. 

“She didn’t eat lunch!” Hyunjin shouts, catching up to you. 

“What?” Chan narrows his eyes at you. “Is that true?”

“I don’t want it!” you snap. Then you’re crying in front of them. “I- I want to want it, but I don’t!”

“Hey,” Felix soothes, holding his arms out. “Come here.”

You bury yourself in his embrace, sniffling. Felix pats your head and rubs your back, whispering that you’re okay.

“Whats going on?” Seungmin asks as he wanders closer. “Oh. Um, is she okay?”

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Chan gently coaxes, peeling you away from Felix so that he can comfort you.

“I- I don’t want to,” you sob, hiding your face against his chest. Before you know it, the entire group has gathered around you, searching for ways to solve whatever it is that’s been bothering you.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself,” Minho says. He sighs heavily, frowning. “I - We, I mean, don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

“Why don’t we all take the day off and go out for boba,” Changbin suggests. “Our treat.”

“She didn’t want to eat, idiot!” Jisung hisses, smacking Changbin’s arm.

“S- Sure,” you hiccup out. You rub at your eyes, feeling exhausted and maybe a little hungry now.

“Nice idea, genius!” Jisung claps Changbin’s shoulder. Changbin shoots him an amused look.

Jeongin burrows his way between you and Chan, blinking at you with wide eyes. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

“I- I think I’m just burnt out,” you quietly say. It’s hard to admit, and now you’re crying more, but also feeling relieved in a sense.

“Let’s go get boba.” Seungmin grabs your arm and drags you away. “And then we’ll get you some time off work.”

“Seungmin is besties with JYPapi,” Hyunjin jokes, ruffling your hair. “We can make it work.”

“And don’t bottle it up next time,” Minho scolds. 

“What, you’re going to tell her what to do?” Jisung raises an eyebrow. “What would you even do about it?”

Minho cracks his knuckles. “Wanna find out?”

“So tell us the next time something like this happens, okay?” Chan softly says to you as Jisung screams and runs away from Minho. “Even if we can’t help, I want to know. We care, because we’re your friends.”

You nod, taking Seungmin’s hand in yours. “Alright.”

Jisung sprints past, followed closely by a cackling Minho.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @lezleeferguson-120 @mbioooo0000

[fanfiction4sooya]

Kitty cat (Hybrid Julie x Fem!R)

I am in love with kitty Julie, bye bye. Hope someone likes it! 💖💖

cw: angst, mentions of forced breeding, obviously g!p Julie, she can't properly speak, unprotected sex, creampie, slightly angst, attempted fluff, not really proofread;

Of course you didn't think that rescuing an adult hybrid was going to be too much work you were a vet after all. All your friends had hybrids as pets, and they all turned out fine so why not?

You rescued her one day after the police did an operation to arrest the owners of an illegal breeding clinic, made with the sole purpose of reproducing and selling rare breeds of animals.

She was beautiful and rare, a bengal cat hybrid; a lot of people tried to adopt her but she was very reserved and could get aggressive towards other people except for you, her vet.

It took you no time to fall in love with her personality and you figured it would be better to take her home than to leave her at the shelter.

.....

"I know they didn't give you a name" She was looking up as you dried her fluffy ears. "I'll name you Julie, how about that?" You asked her. Her eyes glimmered and she smiled, her fangs shining in the bathroom light.

"Julie" She repeated. She knew how to speak, but not very coherently since she wasn't encouraged to due to where she was raised. "Julie likes that" She risked that, hugging your waist.

"No, baby" You said softly. "You must say 'I like that' " And that was the beginning of your life with her.

A few months had passed and you two adpated fairly well, except for one thing. Julie could get a little handsy from time to time. As a vet you knew it was due to the fact she was used to having sex a lot of times in a week because of the clinic so it kind of became one of her basic and primal needs and of course you tried the best you could to help her.

You tried mating her with a lot of other hybrids but she would blantaly refuse, often dismissing your attempts and even hiding from them whenever you brought them over to your apartment. You noticed her getting more and more agitated, a bit angrier or grumpy whenever they left but she refused to talk.

After one more failed attempt she locekd herself in her bedroom for hours, refusing to see you.

"Julie..." You soflty knocked on her bedroom's door. Of course you gave a bedroom and spoiled her rotten, she was your beloved hybrid and you deeply cared for her. "Baby"

"No, go away" She said.

"I am not going, please let me in" You pleaded, not hearing anything anymore. After a few seconds you heard her door click, which it could only means she opened it up for you. "Thank you" You said, carefully entering her space.

"What?" She crossed her arms under her breasts, her sharp eyes analyzing your features. She wore a black t-shirt and a white pair of boxer briefs. You tried not to look at the bulge visbly present.

"Can you tell me why are you so angry, baby?" You sat at the edge of her bed and she nodded 'no'. You sighed, defeated. "Julie, in order for me to help you I have to know what's going on my darling kitty" You scooched a bit closer, touching her face and she bit her lips, eyes wattering.

"You..." She tried to say but she couldn't find the right words.

"It's okay, you can say it in the way it feels more comfortable to you" You assured her and she nodded.

"there where I was" She started, looking down. "They gave Julie others to mate... Julie didn't want that" You held her hand with one hand while carressing her fluffy ears with the other as they were pushed back. "You did same" She sniffled and your heart sank.

"I..." Slowly you realized your mistake. You really did the same.

"Julie likes you, not other cats" She said, still visibly hurt. "You want julie with others"

"baby, no..." You hugged her. "I am sorry, it wasn't my intention at all" You truthfully told her and she sniffled against your shirt, clutching hard to it. "I only wanted you to release some energy, I swear" You spoke into her hair, calmly grazing your hands up and down her back to soothe her. "I am so sorry, kitty. I promise I'll make it up to you. I am sorry" You repeated as she sobbed, her ears twitched with each sob of hers. It broke your heart to see that.

Slowly she started to calm down enough to fall asleep, softly purring against your neck.

You spent almost an hour with her on your lap, thinking of another way you could help her without making her think you wanted her to do the unspeakable things she used to at that fiflthy place they kept her at. You thought over and over of her saying "Julie likes you, not other cats" And the thought alone made you shiver, shaking your head.

"It's the only way, I think" You said to yourself and she purred louder, vibrating against your chest as her arms held you tighter. You closed your eyes too, giving yourself to a much needed sleep, thinking of dealing with that in the morning.

And well, the morning came.

You were woken up by something tickling your neck and well, something poking your ass too.

"Julie?" You whispered but she didn't respond. You felt her heavy breath against your neck and you tightened your thighs against each other, gulping. You held your phone enough to see her reflection, she was asleep. "Cute" You said to yourself, biting your lip when her hard cock pressed harder against you.

Slowly, you turned around.

She was frowning hard, her fangs showing a bit. You could feel how tense she was and it made you feel sorry for her. You pushed yourself up a bit, reaching for that frown and kissing it, inhaling her scent. Still asleep, her hand reached for your waist and her strong arms pulled you closer to her body, making you inevitably straddle her waist.

You felt the need to grind against her hard cock but you held yourself because of her uncousciousness. You kissed her cheek, nudging against it and finally she opened her eyes, taking a deep breath when she looked down to your thighs on each side of her body.

"Please, let me help" You said. Her frown soon turned into an obscene demeanor, her gaze sharp and attentive.

You sat down on her waist and straightened your back, pulling off your shirt to show her your bare chest, since you slept with no bra on. You did the same to Julie, your breath hitching as she bucked her hips up, her hands firmly holding you to do it again and you soflty moaned, falling foward and completely at her mercy.

You brushed your nose against hers and she smiled, her fangs shining in the morning light.

"I'll make love to you" You said caressing her face, noticing her expression. "Tell me if you need to stop, I-" But she interrupted you with a kiss.

She knew what she was doing, her tongue swirling against yours felt divine. Fuck, maybe she was better at this than you.

She sat down with you on her lap, quickly discarding your shorts and her boxer briefs, her erect cock lightly slapping her own abs when she did so. It looked big and veiny and well, about to burst.

You knew she needed this and you wanted to take it slow because you wanted to truly make love to her but she was eager and neglected for so long, you couldn't wait any longer. You teased your own entrance with her thick cock and she growled, closing her eyes.

"Shh, it's ok" You cooed, slowly sinking on her.

"Fuck" Julie said, her eyes literally going from their normal brown to pitch black. You felt like she was going to rip you apart but it felt so good you couldn't hold yourself any longer.

Rolling your hips against hers, you felt how deep it was in your womb, the pleasure overshadowing the pain.

She attached her mouth to one of your nipples, slightly scratching it and you hugged her shoulders, moaning loudly. You felt your pussy clench around her and she grabbed your hips to bounce you up and down.

"Mine" She said, pushing you to lie on your back as she covered your body with hers in a mating press.

"Julie, fuck" You closed your eyes as she licked your lips, her tongue exploring yours. Her thrusts felt animalistic and heavy and you felt yourself melt when she hugged your body against hers, her face going to the crook of your neck to bite and suck there.

The thing is: Julie wasn't designed to stop. Not when she felt her load about to explode inside of you. It was her instinct and you knew that. You let her.

"Gonna breed you full" She thrusted hard, knocking the wind out of you. Her moans felt like music; Sinful, delicious. The wet sounds louder and louder because of how much cum she put inside of you as you came on her thick lenght.

You felt spent but not her.

She threw you around like a rag doll, pulling you to put your ass up and face down. You whined when she entered you again, squeezing your hips against hers.

"God" It was all you managed to say. "Julie, slow down baby" You tried to say but it wasn't loud enough due to her moans and the loud skin slapping sounds you two were producing.

You could feel her adoring every bit of your skin, squeezing and scratching to mark you, her cock throbbing.

"you feel so good" She slowed her thrusts just a tiny bit, losing that hard pace once ovesrtimulation hit her. You took that opportunity to push your upper body up to stay against hers, moving your hips as she embraced you, her right hand guiding your hips against hers as she kept ramming inside of you, slipping her cock all the way out and then back in, moaning for you.

"julie is gonna cum again" She said, biting your shoulder and closing her eyes, going full stop so her cock would spurt cum again and again against your walls.

You two were left panting, embraced. When she pulled out you felt her heavy cum oozing out of you, thicker than usual because of how many months she spent without fucking anyone.

You turned around to kiss her, straddling her hips but avoiding contact with her overstimulated and semi hard cock.

"Am I forgiven, kitty?" You asked and she purred, denying. "Oh, no?" You bit your lip and she kissed you again.

"It's gonna take more for julie to forgive you" She cutely said and you nodded.

"Okay baby, let me keep making up to you then..." You lowered your lips to her perky tits, licking it and she caressed your hair, purring loudly.

You definitely wouldn't mind making it up to her over and over again...

[ghouldump]

I love how you write for Lestat!!!! PLEASE NEVER STOP ❤️❤️❤️

Thicker Than Water | Lestat De Lioncourt x Reader

ෆ you should have known better than to entertain someone who would bring up the idea of leaving your husband and daughter.

lol, thank you, rewatching s1, after seeing s2, he is so toxic 😭 but so passionate and caring about everything he does, and lestat and claudia are so much alike so i thought of this

Motherhood. One of the biggest blessings this life could bring forth. You were unfortunate, turned before you were given the opportunity to bring creation into the world. Lestat always managed to keep your relationship alive, not allowing the chance to think about it, but there were times.

Those late nights, hunting for your next meal like an animal, you’d see mothers, holding the hands of their sons and daughters. Staring for a moment, you could feel your heart, which hadn't beat in years, break. Then Claudia came along, or you came to her, saving her, pleading that Lestat turned her.

He warned that she would be a mistake, forced into the body of a child forever. While you understood him, you couldn't think rationally at the moment. A child needed to be saved and you weren't letting up, begging him, before he finally gave in.

Claudia was turned and quickly became the apple of your eyes. A mother, you had become a mother overnight and you loved her as if you'd birthed her. Her relationship with Lestat always seemed strained, the two constantly bumping heads. You found it adorable at times, they couldn't see how much they were similar, with Lestat’s blood in her veins, she was his daughter through and through.

Your baby, she was, although you may have spoiled her too much. As she grew older, wanting more than other preteen girls, the guilt began to sink in. Your baby, yet instead of taking her to a hospital that night, you forced her into becoming what you were.

“Hey,” you smiled as the front door opened, Lestat walking in. Claudia sat in a chair, while you stood behind her, carefully brushing her hair.

“Hey,” Lestat said in a weird tone, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“He’s such a dick,” Claudia said, crossing her arms.

Staring at the stairs for a second, letting his tone process, as he disappeared upstairs. Putting on your best fake smile, you changed the subject, letting Claudia talk about the current boy she had a crush on.

Your relationship, recently, had been distant. At times it was about things you felt you should no longer do, inviting people into your home, your sex life, threesomes, and orgies. You didn't want to expose Claudia to those things. Then came discipline, you never corrected her, at least not like Lestat. You were gentle with her, always, never raising your voice, and making excuses for her. It was beginning to cause a rift in your marriage.

Braiding the soft curly hair into pigtails, you sent her off to her room, the sun would be rising soon enough. Going to your bedroom, you were surprised to see Lestat already in his coffin.

“Honey, is everything alright?” you asked. One of the essential rules of your union was never to go to bed angry at the other.

“I am fine,” he said with a huff, as he opened the coffin.

“I don't like when you talk like that in front of Claudia,” you told him, watching as he rolled his eyes.

“Claudia does a lot of things I don't like, and I don't complain”

“Yes, you do, to her face and me, she's a child-

“She is not a child, she’ll be 19 in four months. She's a brat who whines to get her way, and every time, you give it to her,” he said, making you scoff.

“Sorry for being a mother to our daughter, even if you don't like her,” you told him, getting into your coffin.

“Y/n,” he called out, his voice full of sympathy.

“Just leave me alone, I'm tired,” you said, closing your eyes to fall asleep.

As night fell upon the sky, you opened your coffin, going straight to the closet, picking an outfit. You could hear Lestat standing up, but you didn’t dare to face him. His eyes set on you as you changed, slipping into the form fitting dress.

“Ma chèrie, I want to apologize for the way that I spoke to you-

“It’s fine,” you told him, adjusting the pantyhose, before stepping into the heels.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a smile, he was still bare, while you had already dressed, and were walking out of the room.

“Out,” you said, nonchalantly.

Leaving out of the room, you saw Claudia come out of her room, looking at you as you passed.

“Are we going hunting?”

“No, I have a few things to do,” you told her.

“Can I come?”

“No Claudia, I have to go alone, see if Lestat will take you”

“But-

“Or go alone, it doesn't matter,” you told her, walking away. You knew you'd probably hurt her feelings, but you couldn't be bothered to care. You couldn't care about anything right now.

You needed a break from both of them. Lestat is such a dick, Claudia is a brat, He wants you all to himself, She is trying to take you from me, it was an endless cycle of them bickering against each other - leaving you to try to be a mediator.

“What did you do, asshole?” you could hear Claudia scream at him.

“Shut up, you insolent brat,” he told her, as you left out of the front door.

Walking through the streets, you attempted to clear your mind. Claudia could be heard, talking, asking if you were alright. If you wanted to leave Lestat for good, but you ignored her. Entering the crowded bar, you tuned out her voice, choosing to focus on the jazz music played by the band.

Sitting at an empty table, you sighed, enjoying the comfort the harmony brought to your sanity.

“Mind if I sit here?” you heard, making you look up, gasping immediately.

“George,” you smiled, your eyes traveling from head to toe, examining the army uniform.

“I thought it was you I saw, I had to be sure,” he laughed, pulling you into a firm hug.

“What are you doing here? I thought-

“I’m only home for a few days, then I'm going overseas,” he said. Truth be told, you weren't paying attention to much he was saying, focused on his Adam’s apple.

“Please, sit, it has been forever,” you smiled, as he sat next to you.

George was a childhood friend, while not exactly your first love, he was your first for other things. You remembered your last time with him, he had been drafted and was being sent away to the military. He was only 18, when he left, that night being over a decade ago.

“You still look as beautiful as you did back then,” he told you.

“I know,” you smirked. You could hear his thoughts, sex clouded his brain, his eyes full of lust.

Leaning close to him, tilting your head, you slowly pressed your lips into his. You and Lestat both had your fair share of fulfilled fantasies, but this was different. Something on your own, the stress relief you needed from the problems in your life.

“You want to come back to my place?” he asked you.

“Lead the way,” you told him, biting your lip, as he stood, walking you to his car.

During the drive, he caught you up on his life and how he managed to rank up within the service. The loss of his parents, inheriting their house while he was away. He went on about how he was getting older and needed to start looking for a wife.

“What about you?” he finally asked as he parked in front of the house.

It wasn't nearly as extravagant as you had become accustomed to, living with Lestat, but it was perfect for a normal, small, but growing family.

“What about me?”

“Your life? How has it been these last few years?” he asked as you followed him, and he unlocked the door, letting you in.

“Well, I'm married and I have a daughter,” you said, chuckling as his eyes widened.

“You probably should've told me that before I took you to my house,” he told you, as you went to the living room, sitting on the sofa.

“It's complicated”

“Then talk to me, you know you can trust me, sweets,” he said, you couldn't help but smile at the old nickname.

“My daughter, she's…adopted, but that doesn't change a thing, she's mine. She and my husband, are always bumping heads, they are so similar and so stubborn. Their relationship is causing a rift, I just need a break from both of them,” you shook your head.

“You sound stressed out, sweets,” George said, reaching for your hand.

“I am,” you nodded.

“Maybe I can help you?” he said, as you looked at his hand, the way his thumb brushed against your skin.

“Yeah?” you smirked at him, as he pulled you onto his lap.

“You don't think she’ll leave us, do you?” Claudia asked her father. They sat in the car, a good distance from the house.

The two of them were worried about you, and while they argued at first, they quickly got it together and chose to follow you. Full of jealousy, it took everything in them to not kill the man the moment he joined your table.

You, despite also having Lestat’s blood, weren't like them. You weren't so quick to kill, hunting rodents before you’d choose to drain a person to death, always trying to bring comfort to the two of them. You held onto human traditions while embracing immortality. From convincing them to partake in family portraits to bonding with the two of them in the living room. They loved you greatly, so much that they'd put up with each other.

“You know this is your fault, she asked you to stop messing with that hussy, and you wouldn't,” Claudia spat at her father.

Lestat could hardly listen, his shaken hand going to his mouth. He could hear undoubtedly, what you were doing, what the two of you were doing. This was different than a threesome or orgy with people that meant nothing to the two of you. They'd usually end up drained or glamoured before the night was over. But this, my god, was different, Lestat felt the lust that you felt for this man, that you knew, and that made him sick to his core.

“You went to see her again?” you crossed your eyes, leaning against the doorpost, as he entered the house.

“She is no competition, ma chérie, it is you, who have my heart,” he told you, as you clenched your jaw.

“I thought we decided to put all of this stuff behind us”

“You did when you decided you wanted to become a mother,” he said, a gleam of disgust in his eyes, briefly staring at Claudia, as he went upstairs.

This was his fault, he had caused the wedge between the two of you, and he had to be the one to fix it. A bloody tear slipped out his eye, while he moved his hair out of his face.

“She won’t leave us,” he told his daughter, as he started the car, driving past the house.

“I have to go,” you told George, straddling his waist, in his bed.

“You don't have to leave,” he told you, his hand caressing your back.

“I do,” you laughed.

“Your family, you can leave them, start over with me, get married, and we’ll make a daughter of our own”

“Those things are easier said than done, I couldn't up and leave them, they need me as much as I need them,” you said, pulling away, to get dressed.

“I didn't mean to offend you, sweets,” he apologized.

“It's okay, really, I just need to get back home, the sun will be up soon enough,” you shook your head.

“Well I can drop you off-

“No need, you don't live too far from my house”

“Can I see you again, tomorrow?”

“We’ll see,” you smiled, before leaving his house, walking home.

Entering the house, you were surprised by how quiet it was, abnormally quiet. Going upstairs, you peeked in Claudia’s room. Everything was neatly organized, with her coffin in the middle of the room, closed. Smiling lightly, you shut the door, before moving to your shared bedroom. Lestat was already away in his coffin, while yours was still open.

Stripping from your clothing, you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders. The previous tense stress that was there before, was gone. Climbing into your coffin, you looked over at Lestat’s before shutting your own.

“Good night,” you said lowly, before falling asleep.

Sleeping throughout the day, as night approached, you felt an uneasy sensation in your stomach. Unable to move, you felt restricted, when suddenly, your Achilles’ heel was sliced. Your eyes finally opened, widening seeing Claudia stand, a small blade in her hand. Staring into her piercing eyes, she held a deep frown, before going to Lestat’s side.

Your mouth was taped, and your body was wrapped in chains, you felt weak and confused. Immediately, you looked to Lestat, whose back was turned to you, before he turned to face you, moving to reveal the surprise.

George sat tied in front of you, tape on his mouth, his face already bruising. George looked at you, before screaming at Lestat, who frowned at him.

“Pathetic,” he said before his eyes went to you. You could see the blood stains on his face that he had been crying.

“Ma chérie, you hurt me badly, both of us,” he told you, before ripping the tape from your mouth.

“What are you talking about? How is this different from you going to see her?” you asked him.

“That was different and you know it, I heard you, I could feel your passion for him,” he screamed at you, tears pouring out.

“No one told you to follow me”

“No, but he will pay, for thinking he was worthy to have you, and for trying to break our family apart,” he said, as he moved to George, using his nail to cut his face.

“Claudia, let me out of this, I need to heal,” you hold her, but she turns her head, the bloody tears leaking from her eyes.

“He wants to take you from us, mama, and give you a new daughter, I know we had our problems, but I never thought that you would want to leave,” she said, crossing her arms.

“I don't, I told him I didn't, I love you both, I’ve been overwhelmed with stress, and I wanted relief, but that's it, not to leave you, either of you,” you told him. George continued struggling to speak. Claudia rolled her eyes, ripping the tape from his mouth, making him yelp.

“It’s true, she said she needs you both, as much as you need her,” George said, making the two look at you.

“Ma chérie-

“Mama-

The two spoke at the same time, making their way in front of you, and wrapping their arms around you.

“I’m sorry for how I've acted, I don't want you to find pleasure anywhere else, just hours with you in the arms of another, feels like death all over,” Lestat told you.

“And I don't want to lose you as my mama, I’ll be better,” Claudia said, her voice cracking. You found both of their confessions heart-touching, becoming emotional.

“You both are perfect the way you are, we should've communicated better as a family,” you told him, as they both agreed.

Standing tall, you watched as Claudia grabbed the bolt cutters, breaking the chains from around you. Lestat helped you stand, holding your waist, as you leaned on him.

“We had to be sure you wouldn't break free if you were leaving with him, sorry, mama,” she said, glancing at your feet.

“It's alright”

“Y/n, help me,” George pleaded with you.

“Your meal, ma chérie,” Lestat eyed him.

“We know you prefer hunting your rodents, which is why we brought the meal to you, as we celebrate,” Claudia said.

“What are we celebrating?”

“Our companionship,” Lestat smirked.

“Our family will be stronger than ever, after this,” Claudia told you.

Looking at George, he was confused and scared. Baring your teeth, you limped over to him.

“Don't worry about the mess, we will clean up,” Claudia said.

“Y/n, what are you-

Covering his mouth, you sank your teeth into his neck, climbing into his lap. Your eyes shut, as you took pleasure in the rarity, the blood dripping from your chin.

“Y/n, please,” George begged, his eyes slightly rolling back.

“Join me,” you told Claudia, smiling as she rushed over, biting his wrist. Looking at Lestat, he was more hesitant, approaching as you held out your hand. Intertwining your fingers, he leaned down, kissing your lips. The blood smeared on his mouth before he attacked the other side of George’s neck.

Leaning against the brick wall, you watched as Lestat and Claudia burned the body. Your arms wrapped around your body, as you watched them interact. They calmly conversed with each other, before they turned, walking towards you.

“And so who was right in the end?” You could hear Lestat talking.

“You were”

“Correct”

“What was he correct about?” you asked Claudia, smiling at the two.

“Blood is thicker than water,” she said, as he pat her head in approval. All you could think of us was how close they seemed.

“It's cause we're a family, mama, we have our problems but we are meant to all be together,” she giggled, as she heard your thoughts.

“You're right, I love you, both of you,” you told them, accepting Lestat’s kiss, before kissing Claudia’s forehead.

“We still have a few hours before sunrise, should we go for a nice drive?” you asked him.

“Sounds perfect,” Lestat said, watching as you turned, going into the house.

“You did well,” he told Claudia.

“I learned from the best,” she said, as they shared a secretive handshake, going inside, pleased, knowing that together they were able to fix the problems in their family.

[doumadono]

sorry if this sounds rude 😢 but you haven’t been posting a lot of stories lately and that’s like the only thing you have to do? just post something it’s not that big of a deal? dygwim? i think fanfic writers especially on the anime side like to exaggerate things too much and if you don’t post then just deactivate? there’s no point in staying if you’re not gonna do anything but reblog silly content all the time? i don't understand how so many ppl can follow you when you are not even trying to be grateful and you only write not what people request but what you find interesting (which is not, like vampier Shigaraki???? viking Dabi???? so silly stupid ideas imo 😒)? whoever finds your writing or you as a person nice is either blind or stupid. and even if you write something chaptered it takes you literally months to update which isn't fair to people?? but I guess you don't care at all. you must be a freaking entitled white woman to treat otherz the way you do.

(again sorry, didn't mean to sound rude) 😔

When I first read your message, I was completely speechless for a minute or two, anon.

Firstly, it seems there’s a misconception about what fanfiction writers, or any creative individuals for that matter, have to do. Let me clarify something important: creativity isn’t a tap that one can simply turn on and off at will. It’s a complex, often unpredictable process that cannot be rushed without compromising the integrity and quality of the work. Quality stories often require research, plotting, editing, and revising before they’re ready to share. My creative process isn’t a fast food joint, nonnie, and I'm not here to serve up reheated ideas just to fill the silence.

My blog belongs to no one but me. I post what I want, when I want. As for the content of my stories, I believe every writer has the right to explore subjects that excite them the most - even if that means delving into topics or settings others may find odd, like vampires or vikings. My goal is to write stories I’m passionate about and then offer them freely to anyone who might find them entertaining. Some people will, others won’t, and that’s absolutely okay.

Contrary to your belief, I don't exist solely to churn out stories at the speed you dictate. I write on my own time and for my own pleasure. The notion that I should be a content machine is, frankly, laughable. Writing takes time, creative energy, and often real-life circumstances can slow the process. I post when I’m ready, and if that doesn’t align with your desired schedule, you’re free to unfollow or seek out other writers who update more frequently. Suggesting I deactivate because I’m not constantly posting or because I reblog content I enjoy is dismissive at best. I'm not a streaming service like Netflix, darling🙄

Calling me an entitled white woman or implying I’m ungrateful crosses a line. You know nothing of my background or personal circumstances, and bringing race or entitlement into the conversation is neither accurate nor constructive. My ethnicity or personal identity, whatever it may be, does not diminish the value of my creative output, nor does it affect my commitment to my followers. I appreciate every person who visits my page - whether they come to enjoy what I reblog, to read stories I post or to offer critique.

It's also laughable that you think my followers are stupid. Just because their tastes don't align with yours doesn't make them any less intelligent. Diversity in fandoms exists because creativity resonates differently with everyone, something you seem incapable of recognizing.

In the end, I won’t apologize for taking the time I need to create or for following my own interests - that’s part of being a writer. I do, however, expect basic respect in return. If you can’t extend that courtesy, I hope you'll block me, step away from my blog, and never interact with any of my content again.

With all this in mind, it's precisely why I've stopped taking regular requests. Last year, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of requests and the rudeness in many messages, pushing me to my limits. That's why I've decided to concentrate on my own projects and only accept commissioned work.

I'm taking a few days off to gather my thoughts and concentrate on my writing projects.

[moonbyulsstuff]

hi sorry for bothering, can I ask about (Gun x FEM reader) being couples,gun get jealous about talking his girlfriend about another man with good words and compliment the man with none stop, but it turns out that she actually was talking about an anime character and he gets upset and punish her by sleeping in another room and don't talk to her for a while and compliment about any woman show up on TV for a while, like a spoiled boy, and she regret that she spoiled him so much.

(English is not my language so I don't know if I wrote any mistake sentence.)

Spoiled Jealous Man.

Female Reader.

Requested.

Masterlist.

Request Rules.

"Ah~ He's so handsome.." Another irk mark appeared on Gun's forehead, his girlfriend has been complimenting another man and it has been irritating Gun ever since. He keeps hearing her compliment and fawn over another.

And he can't stand it, Gun was always the center of [Name] attention, her words and her shower of affection. But it just pisses him off whenever he see's her fawn over another man, even if it's a fictional man.

"He's so kind and caring too~ And those eyes, ahh~" Gun wants to murder someone right now, if Goo were here. He probably would have taken it out on him, leading to another fight between the two.

But then something popped inside of Gun mind, he smirked as he looked at his girlfriend fawning over the fictional man she has been obsessing over.

Even though he knew it was kinda childish being jealous over a fictional man, but hey. He can't help it, he has been spoiled with love and affections from [Name]. So, he can't help but act like one.

And now, it was time to act out his plan.

-

"Gun?" [Name] called out but heard no response from her boyfriend, she tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Gun?" She called out one more, she stood up from the couch and walked around the living room and to the kitchen.

But saw no sight of her boyfriend, she hummed and went to their shared bedroom and saw Gun by the balcony, watching the night sky.

"Gun.." She called out and walked up to him but got no response, she raised an eyebrow at his actions. "Gun..? What are you doing? I have been calling out to you for the past minute or so.." [Name] said as she stood beside him.

[Name] stared at him but he didn't look at her, it made her pout and crossed her arms. "Gun? Are you ignoring me?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

He exhaled the smoke from the cigarette as in the corner of his eyes, he could see her pout and it amused him. He was chuckling internally and his resolved didn't falter after seeing her cute pouting face.

"Gun!!" [Name] started to pinch Gun's arm, trying to catch his attention. But got no reaction whatsoever, she pouted once more and tried to catch his attention but once again. No reaction whatsoever from her boyfriend.

She pouted once more and walked away with a huff, Gun chuckled under his breath seeing her reaction.

And this happened throughout the day, whenever [Name] tries to get Gun's attention, he only ignored her in return. It started to get irritating but not as much when Gun started to compliment the women he saw on TV.

"She looks beautiful, her hair looks absolutely amazing."

[Name] huffed under her breath hearing Gun compliment the women on TV once more, it started to get to her but then realized something.

'Wait a second... Gun... Gun only does this whenever he's jealous... wait... of course...' She thought as she came to the conclusion on what she just realized on why Gun was acting this way.

"You're such a baby Gun, you know that right?" [Name] said, placing a kiss on his forehead when she walked past by. Gun froze and felt his heart pound at the contact. He coughed. "I don't know what you are talking about.." Gun said, watching [Name] sat down on the couch with a cup of tea in her hands.

"Perhaps, I spoiled you too much..."

[Name] said, looking back at Gun who only looked back at her with a blank look. "Though, it did work. I never thought you would actually get jealous over a fictional man." [Name] said with a teasing tone.

"I wasn't, I don't know what you are talking about." "Yeah sure, whatever babe."

[lostinlovingrevery]

Hiiii! I'm sorry to hear about your PMS :( If it's not too much trouble I had this idea:

Logan finds a lost dog/cat that won't leave him alone, finally Logan gives in and feeds them/takes them in. Reader (the owner of said pet) is desperate looking for them, maybe yelling their name in the street, or putting posters everywhere, and when Logan finds out and heads to return the pet they meet and it's love at first sight :3

OR!

Logan and reader are already together and their pet gets lost. Reader is heartbroken and Logan comforts them, and then drive around all night, using his sense of smell to track the pet down and bring it home

(I recently got a puppy and she's already my whole word, I'm in love! So now everything I see/think about is puppy related)

HIIII, and thank you <3, it really do suck! To top it off, I have PCOS, so my hormones would go from nearly non existent to sky-high. it can be rough, but that's another story I'll tell one day (I may even make a fic about it!)

Congrats on your new puppy!!! What breed? and her name??? I have my Zuzu and we got her as a puppy 2- almost 3 years ago and she's my baby girl so I completely get it!!

This was picky in which option to choose, because they're both SO cute. I went with option 1 for now so I love me a good meetcute, but I may write option 2 one day :) apparently Im on a worst Logan roll rn but that's okay bc he needs the love <3 I named the dog after my cat in this too lol

Missing

Worst! Wolverine X Reader

A handsome stranger brings back your beloved friend

Warnings: Missing pet, distraught reader, love at first sight type of meetings, fluff, your dog is your wingman <3

"C'mon bub, go back home."

Logan glanced down at the small creature that has been following him for almost block. He had reached the apartment building, about to walk inside- but the cute little 4 legged furry friend stood at his side and waited for him to open the door.

He was not going to allow the cuteness of the dog break him. The pup looked up at him with a small pant, and big eyes, with a little wag of it's tail.

Logan stared down at it, and it let out a little whimper. He sighs,

"Fine. Just for the night." He mumbles, pulling the door open and allowing the dog to trot inside, where they look back at him expectantly and waited.

Althea and Wade weren't home fortunately, as he didn't feel like listening to either of them. Mary Puppins doesn't seem to be aware of what was happening 99.8% of the time, so there was no issue there either.

He gave the pup a dog treat, and offered some of Mary Puppins kibble and water, before trying to figure out where- or who, the animal belonged too. Discovering they knew tricks, had a very clean coat, and trimmed nails. Very well taken care of.

"You obviously belong to somebody don't ya?" He hums, scratching their chest. "Did ya sneak out, lil scamp?"

The wag of their tail told him everything.

"Mmph." He chuckled, now fully petting with both hands. "You are cute...Lets go see if we can find your folks."

Grabbing Mary Puppins leash and leashing the dog, to ensure the puppy won't run away and put itself into danger, they both left the apartment and began walking the streets as he searched for signs of a distressed owner, also watching the dogs body language for signs of familiarity.

"Poppy!"

Both Logan and the dogs ears lifted their head at the sound of your voice. He looked around, spotting you across the street- your face in distress as you held a bundle of papers to your chest. You were stopping random people on the street, showing them the paper and asking if they seen a loose dog.

Damn, aren't you pretty?

Logan looked down at the escapee, who was now patting their feet excitedly on the concrete as it watched you, looking up at him.

"That your owner Lassie?" He quirked a brow. He assumed yes, from the way it's tail wagged happily, as he moved to cross the street to meet with you. "Miss?" He calls out, and you turned around at the sound of his voice.

If you were a cartoon character, your jaw would've dropped to the floor at the sight of this handsome specimen who had your precious Poppy in hand. You did however, drop the nearly hundred copies of missing dog posters you made once Poppy had decided to break free from her leash this morning, and you couldn't catch or find her anywhere.

"Poppy!" You beamed, kneeling down with open arms as she breaks free from the stranger and ran up to you. You shed a few tears, that she quickly licked up as you hugged her, pressing kisses all over her sweet face. "Don't do that again! You hear me?!"

You looked up at the stranger, who had a faint smile. Grabbing a hold of the leash that was around Poppy to ensure she didn't escape again, you stood up, "Hi." You say.

"Hey." He nods.

"Thank you- For finding her!"

"More like she found me." He let out a soft chuckle. "Followed me from my workplace for almost a block."

You looked at Poppy, raising a brow at her, and secretly wondering if it was some sort of coincidence that she has now met you up with this strangers who's hazel-colored eyes are making you weak in the knees every time you look into them.

You smiled, "She took off from me at the park. Chasing a squirrel or something I don't even know. I couldn't find her anywhere, I was so worried. Thank you, thank you!" You reached out, placing a hand on his chest, attempting to be genuine as possible.

"It's nothing, sweetheart." He smiles. It sent a heat blooming in your cheeks at the use of a pet name and you ducked your head to hide your goofy smile, and removed your hand from him.

"Still I'd like to...Show my appreciation." You say, "Could I buy you some dinner? After I drop Poppy off at home first of course..."

He looked like a deer in headlights when you made the offer, which you regretted, until he smiled, a small sparkle in his eyes you didn't miss.

"Sure." He says. "Sounds nice."

You beamed at him, relief- and excitement filling you as you both began to walk together. It occurred to you that you just asked his guy out and didn't even know his name yet. Still, there was a strange familiarity between you both, like you've always known each other. "So what's your name?"

"Its Logan. Yours?"

[bartysbunny]

I'm Quite Sure It Would Kill Me

Pairing: Regulus Black x reader

Summary: Regulus has a hard time showing how much he cares and you take that as him simply not caring how you feel.

Warnings: Angst

Category: Hurt/Comfort, little angst

Word Count: 691

You needed comfort—it was simple, really. That was unless your boyfriend was Regulus Black, who prided himself on not showing his emotions, and that bled into his relationships. When you had gone to him for comfort before, it didn’t end well because he didn’t know what you needed and you couldn’t articulate your words to tell him. So you hid it.

“How are you doing, Angel?” Regulus asked as you sat down next to him for dinner.

You looked at him and smiled at him, “Pretty well.” You lied right through your teeth, and unfortunately for you, he didn’t notice.

“Well that’s great my love,” he kissed your forehead and started up a conversation with Evan who was sitting across from him. You tried not to look disappointed that he couldn’t tell you were lying. 

You ate your dinner in silence, occasionally commenting on what the two boys were talking about. Deciding you wanted to be alone and wallow in your inability to tell Regulus how you were feeling, you got up, “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.” You leaned down and kissed Regulus on the head.

“Is everything alright love? You never go to bed this early,” Regulus looked at you with worry. You assured him you were alright then left and headed toward the Slytherin dorms. 

When you got there, you threw yourself onto your bed and curled into a ball. You cried into your pillow and hugged your stuffed animal tightly.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up with tear-stained cheeks and a horrible headache. You decided to go to the common room to get a drink. You tip-toed out of the girls dorms and into the common room. You gasped when you saw Regulus sitting on one of the lounge sofas. 

“You scared me,” you whispered. He didn’t turn to look at you.

“Why did you lie to me today?” he asked simply, still not looking at you. You were caught off-guard by his question.

“What?”

“When I asked if you were okay and you said you were, you lied to me,” he got up and finally turned to look at you. 

“Well anytime I try to talk about how I’m feeling you seem wildly uninterested,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “So yes, I lied to you.”

“I do care,” his voice softened at your harsh words.

“Then why is it so hard for you to show that?!” you raised your voice slightly, keeping in mind the dorms were mere feet away.

“Because!” Regulus burst out. “I’m scared of caring too much! What if I lose you? What if one day you decide I’m not good enough for you? I would be left with this gaping hole that I could never fill again, and I’m quite sure it would kill me!” He huffed, finally finished. He turned back toward the fire.

“Reggie…” your heart broke. He really felt that way? You walked over to him, but he refused to look at you. “Reggie, please look at me.”

You gently grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. His eyes were filled with unshed tears that made your heart ache. “I’m sorry for thinking you didn’t care. And I’m sorry for hiding my feelings from you.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Regulus sniffled. “I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about things that are bothering you because of my fear of losing you.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you so your body was flush against his. He buried his face in your neck and placed feather-light kisses from your neck to your shoulder.

You moved so you both were lying on the sofa, you lying on top of Regulus. “I really didn’t know you were hurting,” you whispered. You rubbed small circles on his chest with your thumb.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” Regulus’s arm tightened around your waist. “You’re my partner, you deserve to be able to come to me with your frustrations and problems.”

You laid there in silence until you both slowly drifted off to sleep.

[emoisthenewemu]

Favorite present! ~ Megumi Fushiguro x GN! Reader

A/N i live for soft boy megumi like SORRY but he is sensitive I don’t make the rules. i love him sm and plan to write more for him in the future.

If you were to ask Megumi Fushiguro what his favorite present was this year, he would probably say you.

Wc:1086

"Meguuumiiii" You whine from the hall, holding a cardboard box full of your friends' presents. Ones you handmade with blood, sweat, and literal tears. In fact, you had begun the project as early as October (before Halloween even).

What at first seemed to be a cute idea of making stuffed animals soon turned into a pain in the ass, taking up most of your free time.  Of course when you and Megumi would see each other you would refrain from letting it distract you but the very second he left or even fell asleep there you went-crocheting away. When he would walk in your dorm after a long day of class?

There you sat, legs crossed and an ever-so determined look on your face. Hunched over in a way that looked painful-which it definitely was because you had been complaining about your horrible back pain for the past two months.

Every time the two of you would FaceTime you would be groaning and sighing, complaining about how it was crooked or you put too much stuffing. That your fingers were cramping or now you need to start all over because it looks just awful.

Oh how annoying it was for Megumi to sit and watch you suffer over something absolutely no one is forcing you to do. He told you countless times to just give up and ‘buy everyone gift cards like a normal person’.

But he soon learned his lesson because every single time he said anything like that it just ended in a speech about how important it is to ‘finish things you started’ and you ‘promised yourself it wouldn’t be another abandoned project sitting in the closet’. Yes, Megumi understands. He still thinks you are insane. And he will tell you so.

“Isn’t that why you love me?” You say and he can only nod.

Megumi loves your tenacious spirit. How passionate you are about the things you care for. How lucky he is to be one of the things you are very passionate about. It is the only reason he continues to support you in your endeavor. As long as you promise you will not be doing this shit again next year. He even puts a cute little Santa hat on and wears matching slippers with you. It only took like five minutes of begging!

The only thing that continues to bother him is that you did not make him one. Surely you would have mentioned it by now. He would have seen it one of the countless times he walked in to find your room scattered with yarn and your many ‘rough drafts’. He would also be lying if he did not admit he went snooping around a few times when you were showering in the hopes of finding his.

Kugisaki is getting a white bunny. A pink bear for Itadori. There’s an animal for Maki, Yuuta, Inumaki, Gojo, a panda for Panda (duh), and nothing for him.

Maybe you forgot. You’ve been so busy making all of them and it must have slipped your mind. You probably did not even think he would want one. He has no stuffed animals in his room or anything even remotely similar. It’s not like he would cuddle it at night and think about you or anything.

So he delivers the gifts with you-with a smile on his face. Whatever Megumi considers to be a smile at least. Even ignoring the comments of how ‘whooped’ he is to be standing there matching with you. A thing he once swore he would never do.

Until he met you. You softened him up like butter. Gone is the aggression that was always his go-to in any situation. The way you loved him made him feel complete. He used to find it absurd that falling in love could change a person.

But you change him for the better. You challenge him emotionally without trying to change who he is deep down. You bring out the best and suppress the worst of him. Oh how Megumi loves you, more than words can describe.

It is your first Christmas together. As a couple at least so he may have went a bit overboard with the presents. He was trying very hard to impress you. He would be deeply embarrassed if he got you a bunch of presents and you got him nothing.

Surely that would not happen. You gave him a present last year. Why would this one be any different?

He is just anxious, a feeling he knows a bit too well. Megumi is an overthinker, sometimes he will let even the smallest things eat him up inside. He is nervously chewing at the inside of his cheek, holding the now empty box as you finish giving away your last present.

You grab his hand, squeezing it tight before pressing a kiss onto his cheek. “Thanks for coming with me handsome. Im so glad this is over” You groan and he chuckles at the exasperated look on your face. “You were so right. Never again” You peck his cheek again and he smiles contently.

Your touch is so comforting he does not even realize the two of you are heading back to your dorm instead of his. Too lost in the warmth of your smooth hands and intoxicating giggle.

It is not until you open the door and walk him inside that he understands that all of his worries were for nothing. Sometimes he forgets that you might love him just the same way he loves you. Maybe even more like you swear you do. He feels almost silly for doubting you. As he should.

Your small twin bed is covered in presents. His presents. They range all different sizes. But right in the middle, atop one of the gifts sits two little crochet figures.

Two wolves, a white and a black one.

His chest is warm and tingly. Megumi pulls you into a hug. Arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head digging into the nape of your neck-he swallows the lump forming in his throat.

“Thank you” Megumi sighs into your chest, moving up to kiss your neck lovingly.

“Ohh Megs” You chuckle, trying to jump excitedly up and down but his arms prevent you from doing so. They grip you tighter. “You need to open them first!”

And he says something so cheesy he would have thrown up if the moment wasn’t so sweet. “You’re the only present I need”

[esquilone]

- Winter Violets

──────────୨ৎ───────────

RDR2 | Charles Smith x F! reader

Summary: After everything that happened with the gang, Charles Smith sets out for Canada in search of a new beginning. Far from his past, he dreams of a peaceful life, maybe even a family. Riding along the vast, silent roads of Canada, he never expected to find anyone. But then, he heard it. A call for help. A voice lost in the wind. When he stopped to help you; a woman, he thought it was just a fleeting moment. But when, months later, your paths crossed again, something felt different. It became clear that this was never just a coincidence. Could there be something more to it?

Gender tags: explicit (Not yet in this chapter.)

Word count: 7,698

Author's note: I am sorry to warn you that I failed a little in the development of this work, I have not yet fully reviewed it when checking spelling mistakes, I apologize if you bother, in one of the lines of Charles there will be a link, in this link you can see where I got inspiration from one of the dialogues.

PART TWO IN HERE 02!!

Charpter 1

The train cut through the white landscape of southern Canada, advancing along tracks surrounded by snow-covered pines. Charles Smith watched the scenery through the window, feeling the weight of the past years on his shoulders. After everything that had happened with the Van der Linde gang, after helping John build his ranch for his family and aiding in his revenge against Micah, he knew he could no longer live that way. He would never allow himself to again. The betrayal, the violence, and the constant running had become unbearable. He needed peace.

John had mentioned this place once—the vast mountains and fertile lands where no one would pursue him. Not that Charles had never considered it before, but only after settling what needed to be settled. He decided this was where he would go. He bid farewell to the ghosts of his past and set off on a new journey, crossing the border and leaving everything behind.

The Canadian cold was intense, but it didn’t bother him much. He had grown up facing harsh winters, living with the Wapiti, and now, more than ever, he wanted to reconnect with that part of himself. Maybe among these snow-covered mountains, he could simply be Charles—without blood on his hands, without having to look over his shoulder with every step.

As the train began to slow down, signaling their arrival at the small town’s station, Charles took a deep breath. This was where his new life would begin.

Canada has always been your home. You were born here, grew up here, and now you live in the same house where your father once lived before passing away years ago. The house is old but well cared for. Sitting farther from the city, surrounded by a wooden fence, and in the backyard, violets bloom at the start of spring. The sweet scent of wild violets mixed with the woody aroma of the house brought you a sense of comfort.

Your routine is simple, but you love it. You wake up early, brew strong coffee, and head out to work. You take care of horses at a ranch on the outskirts, far from the city—something you learned from your father. He always said that horses understand a person’s soul better than any human. And maybe he was right.

When you return home, you spend time in the backyard tending to the violets—your mother’s favorite flowers—and the other plants and vegetables you’ve learned to grow. Your favorite hobby is drawing and making desserts. Nothing too elaborate, just small creations—and in your sketches? Birds, leaves, sometimes faces that come to mind. There’s something therapeutic about turning a blank sheet of paper into something new and meaningful.

Even though you enjoy your solitary life, sometimes… sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever meet someone who understands this world of yours. Someone who appreciates silence and simplicity, who understands the connection to the land and animals.

But for now, all you have is this house full of memories, the scent of violets and wild grass, the sound of the wind cutting through the mountains, the singing of a few birds, and the chime of wind bells making the house feel a little less… abandoned.

The afternoon sun painted the sky in a soft shade of violet as you knelt in the garden, pulling out dry leaves and inhaling the fresh scent of damp earth. The violets were beautiful this year, more vibrant than before, as if they knew someone still cared for them. Your fingers slid along the delicate stems of the flowers, and for a moment, the world felt so calm.

You had spent the last hour trying to fix an old rocking chair that had belonged to your father. Time had worn down the wood in some places, and one of the legs was loose. You had tried tightening the nails, adjusting the planks, but nothing seemed to truly solve the problem. Maybe the wood was too worn out. Maybe you just didn’t have the patience anymore.

But it didn’t take long before your mind began to torment you again.

You sighed, setting the chair aside and stepping away from the porch. You sat on the steps of the veranda, watching the sky slowly change. The soft violet gave way to a deep blue, as if the sky itself was breathing.

The breeze blew cold, sending a shiver across your skin, but you didn’t move. Your eyes remained fixed on the horizon, and, without meaning to, you felt your throat tighten.

It had been so long… So long since this house had heard another voice besides your own… So long since someone had sat beside you to talk about the day, to share a meal, to laugh at the little things in life. You were a grown woman now—mature, independent. But loneliness… Loneliness was a constant shadow.

It wasn’t just the absence of a husband or children—it was the lack of companionship, of someone who understood the weight of the years, who knew what it meant to carry memories and still try to move forward.

You blinked quickly, but a single tear slipped down your cheek.

Has this feeling taken over you once again?....

Would your parents be proud of you? Would your father say you had done a good job taking care of the house? Would your mother smile, seeing the violets still blooming? You remembered very little of her now—she had going too soon.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, as if that could ease the knot in your chest. The wind blew again, and for a brief moment, it felt like a gentle touch, an invisible comfort.

Maybe it was just the silence keeping you company once again.

You stood up, tossing your gardening gloves to the ground, then walked back to the cabin. It was time to go inside, eat dinner, and sleep.

Tomorrow would be another day—one of many repetitive months. Once again

The wind rustled through the trees as your eyes scanned everything that might catch your interest, once again searching for any trace of something useful. The scent of damp earth and dry leaves mixed with the cold forest air, creating a comforting yet lively silence. Birds flitted from branch to branch, and the soft crunch of twigs beneath your feet echoed lightly. The cold and humidity of the forest began to intensify as the sun dipped below the horizon.

You walked among the tall trees, your eyes alert to the herbs sprouting and the twisted roots beneath your feet. Your shoulder bag already carried a few herbs and a rabbit you had hunted earlier. But then, a strong aroma caught your attention—perhaps a rare type of herb? One that could add flavor to meat when roasted or cooked over a wood-burning stove.

You crouched down upon spotting more herbs used for seasoning and tea growing nearby. Carefully, you touched them, recognizing their texture and color. You knew these were safe for consumption. With a small, satisfied smile, you began gathering them and placed them in your bag. Advancing forward, crouching again to inspect the area, your mind drifted to the clouds, as it often did.

You stood up, adjusted the bag on your shoulder, and took the path back. Stepping backward.

But then—a loud crack.

Your foot sank into something that shouldn’t have been there. Time slowed for an instant, and before you could react, you felt a sudden pressure and a violent pull around your ankle.

A burrow? What the hell—!!?

-AH!

The pain struck like a blade slicing through your nerves. You screamed instantly, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the trees.

The metal snapped shut with force. A sharp pain shot up your leg as some kind of mechanism—cold metal—clamped tightly around your ankle. Your chest heaved, your vision blurred by pain and panic, dark red, warm blood trickling down the rusted metal.

Panic surged in your throat as you tried to pull your leg free, but the iron embedded in your flesh wouldn’t budge. Your fingers trembled as they tried to loosen the grip on your ankle, but the searing pain clouded your thoughts. Your knuckles turned numb and pale.

Your eyes dropped to the ground of dirt and soft grass—and then, terror froze your chest more than it already had. The jagged, rusted teeth of the trap had sunk deep into your skin, the dull metal glistening in places where fresh blood now coated its surface.

Your fingers clenched against the cold earth. You swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears burning in your eyes.

— N-No… no…! — Your voice came out shaky, barely audible.

Your eyes looked to the dark forest. The silence felt heavier now. You were trapped—and worse—alone.

(…)

Charles adjusted the reins, letting Taima move at her own pace. The trot was calm, steady, her hooves sinking softly into the damp earth of the trail. Canada wasn’t bad. The cold didn’t bother him, and the silence of the forest was familiar. Different, maybe, but not strange.

He could feel the weight of the night approaching as he rode calmly along the trail between the trees. Taima moved with firm steps, the sound of her hooves muffled by the soft earth of the woodland road. He had been riding for hours, but he felt no rush. There was no destination. He just kept going, listening to the subtle creak of the leather saddle, the quiet breath of his mare, and the wind cutting through the trees.

He had broken camp a few hours ago and was now heading somewhere safer for the night. The scent of wet wood and vegetation filled the air—familiar, comforting.

He had never counted the exact years, but it had been long enough. Long enough that this place didn’t feel so temporary anymore. Maybe two, three years? Enough to get used to the bone-chilling cold, the snow-covered trails in winter, the most beautiful autumn he had ever experienced, and the abrupt changes of the seasons.

He didn’t think much about it. He just lived each day as it came—hunting, working when necessary, moving from time to time.

Solitude never bothered him. It was part of who he was. So many years alone didn’t scare him anymore.

With one hand, he adjusted the reins, while the other rested on the rifle strap attached to the saddle. His experienced eyes scanned the path ahead, alert for any signs of danger—not just predators but also traps left behind by reckless hunters or thieves. But there was probably nothing. He let his thoughts drift back into his own head.

Then he heard it.

A scream.

Short, but filled with desperation.

Every fiber of his body told him someone needed help. Or maybe… he had only heard the cry of a spirit

Charles pulled the reins firmly, and Taima snorted, turning her head toward the sound. Silence once again swallowed the forest. This shouldn’t be his problem, but something inside him stirred—an instinct he couldn’t ignore.

— Taima… — he murmured, guiding the mare toward the noise.

He tapped his heels lightly against her sides, urging her off the main trail. The branches closed in, making the passage difficult, but he pushed forward, even as the leaves lashed against his arms and legs.

Moving silently through the vegetation, his eyes caught sight of a figure on the ground.

A woman.

The faint sound of hooves echoed in your ears, but they felt more like a distant hum, so you barely noticed when someone dismounted beside you.

You turned your head quickly, eyes wide.

Through the forest’s shadows, a dappled gray horse stood still. And mounted on it—a man.

He approached slowly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

— Are you alright? — His voice was careful, yet filled with concern.

He dismounted calmly, but you dragged yourself back slightly, ignoring the searing pain in your ankle.

The look you gave him was pure panic. You could barely breathe, your entire body tense.

— Hey, hey… don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. — His deep voice was gentle, trying not to startle you. — You’re injured.

Your heart pounded inside your chest. The pain, the fear, and the presence of this unknown man made your mind spin.

When did he get here, and how did you not see him!?

Your heartbeat sped up—though this time, it was different.

You swallowed hard, your whole body trembling. You tried pulling your leg free again, but the pain was so sharp that a choked sob escaped your lips.

— No! Don’t come near me! — Your voice wavered, barely more than a sob.

— Stay calm. I know how to get this off. — He crouched down, examining the wound.

What did he just say to you? Everything seemed… muted.

You could barely respond. Your breaths were short and shallow, the throbbing pain making tears stream down your face, your warm blood seeping from the wound.

— Damn… damn… damn… — you whispered, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each word, almost breathless.

Blood trickled from your torn skin.

Charles raised his hands again. His expression was serious, but his eyes were patient.

— I’m not going to hurt you — he said once more, his voice deep but calm. — But you’re injured.

— I… I can— I can handle it myself! — You tried to push him away with your glare, but another wave of pain shot through your leg, and you let out a pained whimper.

You were screwed. And you couldn’t even hide the fear on your face.

He crouched slowly, never taking his deep brown eyes off yours.

— I can unlock the trap. It’ll be quick, but I need you to trust me.

Your breathing was ragged as you tried to process everything. Your eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and your body trembled from the effort of enduring the pain.

Charles reached out his hand.

— I promise, I just want to help.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him to leave again, but… you couldn’t get out of this alone.

With trembling lips, you finally gave him a small, barely perceptible nod.

He didn’t waste time.

Charles knelt beside the trap, studying the rusted mechanism with sharp eyes. The old iron had sunk deep into your flesh, and he knew that opening it would take strength and precision. It had to be done fast.

He lifted his gaze to you—you were still breathing unevenly, your face contorted with pain.

— It’s going to hurt a little — he warned, his voice low and steady. — But I’ll be quick.

You didn’t answer, just dug your fingers into the dirt, bracing yourself.

Charles positioned his hands on both sides of the mechanism and clenched his jaw. With a firm movement, he applied pressure to the trap’s sides. The metal groaned in protest but slowly started to give way.

Your ankle, trapped for far too long, was swollen and throbbing. You felt the pressure loosen and tried to pull your leg free, but the movement sent a shock straight through your wounded nerves.

A sharp whimper escaped your throat.

A LITTLE?!

— Shit… — you whispered, your voice trembling.

— Breathe — the unknown man instructed, his tone calm but leaving no room for hesitation.

You grasped a handful of dry leaves, forcing yourself to focus on breathing as he held the iron open.

— Now — he directed. — Lift your leg.

You swallowed hard, gathering the last bit of courage you had left.

— AH! Damn it…! — your voice broke into a strangled cry.

With a tense movement, you dragged your ankle free. The pain burned like fire, searing through every nerve, and an involuntary sob escaped your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut.

And then, the moment your leg was free from the iron, Charles let go of the trap.

CLANK! *open*

The mechanism snapped shut immediately, the loud sound echoing through the silent forest. Your whole body trembled. Your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths as the reality of the open wound spread through you in waves of agony.

Charles leaned slightly toward you, his movements measured, careful not to startle you, but you were lost in your own misery.

— I can bandage the wound to stop the bleeding — he said, his voice low and unhurried.

You couldn’t speak. The fear was still there, tangled with the pain. But with no strength left to argue, you simply gave a weak nod.

Charles pulled a clean strip of cloth from his bag and got to work.

Warm blood trickled in a thin line from your shin to your ankle, where the trap’s iron teeth had torn into your skin in a deep, jagged cut. The pain throbbed, radiating from the bone through your entire leg, and every small movement made your stomach churn.

You were still sitting on the forest floor, trying to catch your breath, when Charles moved beside you. You barely noticed that he was holding a handkerchief, likely to clean the blood.

He leaned in slightly, his expression serious as he assessed your condition. Then, without a word, he moved to lift you into his arms.

Your body tensed immediately.

— What do you think you’re doing?! — Your voice came out sharp, still thick with pain.

Charles stopped, his dark eyes meeting yours with patience.

— Taking you somewhere more open — he replied, as if it were obvious.

— I need to get a better look at that wound.

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sharp sting in your leg killed the words before they could leave. Still, when he slid an arm under your back and the other beneath your knees, you flinched in resistance.

— I can walk! I can do it — you grumbled, even though you knew it was a lie.

Charles didn’t argue. He simply lifted you off the ground with ease, as if you weighed little more than a sack of cotton. You felt tense, aching, and on the verge of tears. This didn’t feel right… What didn’t? The idea of having accepted this stranger’s “help.”

Every step he took sent a dull vibration of pain through your leg, and you couldn’t suppress a muffled whimper when the movement jostled your wound.

Soon, he set you down on a fallen log in a clearer spot, where the moonlight filtered through the trees. You tried to collect yourself, but the throbbing in your shin and ankle drained your strength.

Charles crouched in front of you, his sharp eyes scanning the wound.

— The bleeding isn’t too bad, but you can’t put weight on that leg. If you do, it’ll tear open more, and that won’t be good. He quickly wrapped a bandage around your leg, tying some cloth over the wound to prevent infection.

You took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in your throat.

After a moment, Charles stood up and let out a low whistle.

A gray mare with white speckles emerged from the shadows of the woods, obediently trotting up to his side. He took the reins and looked at you.

— I’m going to help you up.

You frowned, still wary, but let him take hold of your arms and shoulders, helping you onto the back of the horse as you tried to steady yourself against the saddle.

The moment your weight pressed down on your injured leg, pain flared again, and you hesitated, holding your breath.

— Where are you taking me? — you asked, your voice low and tense.

He adjusted Taima’s reins before answering.

— I can set up another camp or take you to town to get this treated.

Your heart pounded. Town was far. Too far.

— No… town’s too far… — you protested, barely able to think straight.

— M-My place is closer… — Maybe you’d regret saying that later.

Charles paused for a moment, considering your words. Then, you pointed toward a path leading out of the woods, where small stones lined a narrow trail.

He followed your gaze and, after a brief silence, nodded.

Without another word, he mounted Taima and adjusted the reins. Your horse followed behind them on its own as the forest faded into the distance.

The journey was quiet, except for the sound of Taima’s hooves against the damp earth. The pain in your leg didn’t ease—in fact, it only seemed to intensify with each small movement. The night’s cold seeped into your skin, and exhaustion weighed on your eyelids.

But Charles wouldn’t let you fall asleep.

— Do you live alone? — His voice broke the silence, low but firm.

You blinked, forcing yourself to stay alert. Awake.

— Yes… — you murmured, resting your head against your own shoulder.

— How long?

You hesitated for a moment.

— A few years.

He made a neutral sound in his throat, absorbing your answer.

— Do you have family in town?

— No… no one.

Your tone was weaker than you intended, but Charles only nodded, unsurprised.

Silence settled between you again, filled only by the cold wind rustling through the trees. You could feel Taima moving carefully beneath you, her steps steady and deliberate, as if Charles was guiding her to keep your leg from jostling too much.

The pulsing pain threatened to drag you into unconsciousness, and you had to fight to keep your eyes open.

— Your horse is obedient— He’s remarked.

You glanced back, spotting your horse following faithfully without needing to be led.

— He knows me… knows we’re heading home.

Charles kept his eyes on the path ahead, but his tone became a little firmer.

— Stay awake.

You took a shaky breath, shivering as another wave of pain shot up your leg.

— It's not so easy...— you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away. Then, after a few minutes, his voice returned softer, but still watchful.

— What’s name?

You blinked, confused.

— What?

— Your horse.

Oh…

— Archer.

Charles made another neutral sound, as if approving the name.

— Strong and loyal, then.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the conversation instead of the pain.

Then, something caught your attention.

Charles wasn’t asking about the path anymore.

You lifted your head, and that’s when you saw it. In the distance, a thin column of smoke curled into the dark sky—the smoke from your home’s fireplace. The only smoke in the entire area.

He already knew where he was going.

Maybe his senses were sharp, or maybe he just had an eye for details. Either way, Charles adjusted Taima’s reins slightly and urged her into a faster trot. Not fast enough to jolt you painfully, but enough to close the distance between you and the cabin.

Time passed in brief flashes of light and shadow as the forest began to open into a clearer space.

— That’s your home? — he asked, his voice low but firm.

You blinked a few times, fighting off dizziness, before nodding.

— Yes…is here.

The wooden cabin was medium-sized, surrounded by a small, weathered fence. The chimney still released a thin wisp of smoke into the night sky. Charles slowed Taima and pulled the reins until she came to a complete stop.

Without a word, he dismounted with ease, then turned to you.

— Hold on tight — he warned before reaching out to help you down.

His touch was firm but careful, supporting your weight as your feet met the ground.

The moment you tried to put weight on your injured leg, a sharp pain struck like a blade.

Your body gave out.

A muffled cry escaped your lips, and before you could collapse, Charles caught you swiftly.

— Damn it… — you whispered, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Charles said nothing. He simply adjusted his hold on you again and started walking.

— You alright. Just… move slowly and lean on me.

He nudged the small gate open with his foot, crossing the tiny yard to the steps of the front porch. The wood creaked under your combined weight as he carefully lowered you onto one of the benches by the door. For a moment, all you could do was take a deep breath, trying to regain control over the pain and exhaustion.

He stepped back slightly, just enough to give you some space but still staying within your line of sight.

— I need to take care of that wound now — he said, his voice steady.

You knew you had no choice. So you just nodded, too exhausted to argue.

Charles had barely taken a few steps toward Taima when you hurried to speak.

— No need! — you called out to the man in front of you.

He stopped, turning to face you with a neutral expression, though his eyes remained sharp.

— You got something better? — he asked, skeptical.

Without answering, you leaned forward quickly, ignoring the searing pain in your leg. A shaky breath escaped your lips, but you didn’t stop. Your fingers slid beneath the fabric-covered space under the wooden bench, feeling around until they found a small box hidden in the narrow gap. With a firm tug, you yanked it free, the dull thud echoing across the porch.

— Here. — You lifted the box slightly, tapping your fingers against the lid. — I always keep what I need close by…

Charles was silent for a moment, watching you with that look that seemed to see more than what you said. Then, without haste, he turned back and walked toward you.

Kneeling beside you, he took the box from your hands and opened it, scanning the contents.

— Hidden under the bench? — he murmured, a subtle trace of approval in his voice. — That’ll do.

You shrugged, even though the movement made your entire body protest.

— Better than having to hobble around looking for something.

Charles let out a quiet sound of acknowledgment, pulling out some clean cloth and a small bottle of alcohol.

— Smart. Let’s see if we can patch this up without needing anything else.

He checked the supplies, ensuring there was enough to work with, then lifted his gaze to you. Without a word, he leaned in slightly—just a small shift forward, but unmistakable. A silent request for permission. A quiet question, waiting for your trust.

You held his gaze for a moment before exhaling a long sigh and nodding, letting him continue.

With a deliberate gentleness, Charles reached for the hem of your skirt, lifting it just enough to expose your injured leg. The skin around the wound was smeared with dried blood and dirt from the trail, and the pain throbbed in sync with your heartbeat. It hurt like hell.

He studied the injury with careful eyes before unfastening the canteen from his belt.

— It’s gonna sting — he warned, even before he started.

You barely had time to brace yourself before the cool water spilled over the wound.

— Ah! — You recoiled instantly.

The sharp jolt of pain sent your breath hitching, a gasp escaping before you could stop it.

Charles didn’t hesitate. He grabbed a clean cloth from the box, gently wiping around the wound, clearing away the remaining dirt. Water mixed with blood trickled down your ankle, staining the ground beneath you with small crimson drops. Then, he reached for the alcohol.

— One more time — he murmured, almost as if preparing you for what was coming next.

The second the liquid touched your exposed skin, the pain ignited like fire. You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers gripping the edge of the bench, your teeth clenched to keep from crying out.

— Drug… — you muttered, trying to steady your breathing.

He paid no mind to your gritted complaints. Just kept going, methodical and precise.

Once the worst of it passed, he grabbed a fresh cloth, folding it carefully before pressing it against the wound.

You flinched at the touch but didn’t protest.

With swift hands, he wrapped a bandage around your leg, securing it with a firm knot. Once done, he pressed his palm lightly over your shin, assessing with a careful touch.

— No broken bones — he finally said. — You got lucky.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and leaned your head back against the porch wall.

— Thank you… — you murmured so quietly that you doubted he even heard it, your voice still heavy with exhaustion.

Charles closed the box and stood up, adjusting the sleeves of his shirt before looking at you again

— I can take you to a doctor — he offered, straightforward.

You shook your head without hesitation.

— No. This is enough.

Charles was silent for a moment, as if considering your answer.

Then, he simply nodded.

He wouldn’t insist.

You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion settling over your shoulders. It was so much…Fatigue overtook her before you could even notice.

Sitting on the porch, her body sinking into the wooden bench, her eyes simply became too heavy to stay open. You fought against sleep at first, blinking slowly, trying to hold on to consciousness for just a few more moments. There was still something you needed to do. Something you wanted to say…

But before you could gather your thoughts, your breathing slowed, your muscles relaxed, and exhaustion took over.

Charles stood for a moment, watching you in silence.

You were no longer moving.

The tension in your body, caused by pain and hesitation, had faded. Your slightly parted lips released a quiet breath, and your chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm.

You were asleep.

He wasn’t expecting gratitude—he didn’t need it. But somehow, it felt like something was left unfinished.

And yet, he didn’t wake you.

Instead, he bent down and picked up the supply box, closing the lid with a quiet motion. Then, he stood up and walked to the fence beside the house, where his mare, Taima, waited patiently. He adjusted the saddle straps, ran a hand down the animal’s neck, and mounted in one fluid motion. Then, without looking back, he gave a slight command with the reins, and Taima began moving away from the house, her hooves tapping softly against the ground.

Night had fully fallen by the time he disappeared into the trees.

You woke with a shiver.

The air was cold now, even in summer, a stark contrast to the mild warmth of late afternoon. Darkness had settled over the land, covering the forest in deep shadows and spreading across the surrounding fields. For a moment, you blinked in confusion, trying to remember where you were. Then, the last moments before sleep came rushing back:

The porch.

The pain.

The man.

But he was no longer there.

You looked around, first slowly, then with growing urgency. His mare had vanished along with him. There were no fresh hoofprints in the dry earth. No presence, no sound of movement nearby.

He was gone.

You sat there for a moment, a strange restlessness growing in your chest.

There was something unsettling about his silent departure.

After all, he had helped you. He had cleaned your wound, made sure it wasn’t too serious, and stayed there, even though he had no obligation to.

And you didn’t even say thank you.

You didn’t even look at him properly before falling asleep. He never heard your gratitude, and you had just collapsed from exhaustion right in front of him.

You didn’t even say goodbye.

Your stomach twisted with a feeling you couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t exactly guilt. It wasn’t exactly sadness. What? That didn’t even make sense—why would it be sadness? You didn’t even know that strange man.

But it was Inconvenience.

You shook your head, pushing the feeling away. He was no one. Just a man who happened to pass through. He did what he did and then left.

It shouldn’t bother you.

It shouldn’t…

But it did.

Letting out a long sigh, you forced yourself to stand, feeling your leg protest with a dull throb. Now, all that was left to do was go back inside and carry on with life as before.

That man was only a part of that night.

Nothing more.

Time passed.

Life at the house returned to normal—or as close to normal as it could be.

The first few days were the hardest. Your leg ached constantly, and even the simplest movements became a challenge. You avoided town when possible, not wanting to deal with questions about your injury.

But as the months passed, the pain became a manageable discomfort. The wound healed, and the swelling went down. Now, all that remained was a slight limp when you walked, because the damage hadn’t been small—if you hadn’t broken a bone, you had at least damaged a tendon or worn down part of the bone.

You adapted to it.

Mornings were always busy with small tasks: feeding the animals, chopping firewood (which you did quite poorly), fixing whatever needed repairs around the house. Sometimes, your leg protested against the strain, but you didn’t let that stop you. If you didn’t do it, no one would.

The forest, which once felt like a place of freedom, now seemed more dangerous. You still went out to gather herbs and hunt small game, but always with more caution than before.

And every now and then—just every now and then—when the wind blew strong and you heard distant hooves on the road, your heart beat just a little faster.

But it was never him.

He had left that night.

And you never saw him again.

Did you need to? What had gotten into you…?

You were never this anxious before.

You go to town some time after your recovery to buy bandages, supplies, sell something, or take care of a few problems. When you least expect it, you see HIM in the distance. He is standing near a stable, talking to a blacksmith, seemingly negotiating something. You go back to your shopping, averting your gaze.

— You’re better.

His voice makes you stop. You shiver and hesitate before responding, glancing over your shoulder and seeing the man.

— Y-Yes… I still limp a little, but I’m fine.

The conversation is brief. You feel a mix of shame and discomfort because, for some reason, you’re more nervous than you should be. Maybe because you never had the chance to properly thank him, or maybe because seeing him again reminds you of when you were injured and vulnerable.

You don’t know what to say.

— Have you been in town all this time? — you ask, more to fill the silence.

— I was around. — He doesn’t give many details.

You exchange a few words about nothing in particular before he mentions that he’s looking for work. You consider inviting him to something, but before you gather the courage, an acquaintance or a vendor calls out to you, and the moment dissolves. When you turn around again, he’s already gone.

A few weeks later, you barely think about that brief encounter anymore. Life went on.

Your leg is much better now, and your routine has returned to normal.

One afternoon, you walk to the lake where you usually fetch water. The place is quiet, only the sound of rustling leaves and the slow flow of water filling the air.

You crouch down to fill a bucket when you notice, a little further ahead, a dead campfire.

For a second, a chill runs down your spine.

The evening sky is painted in golden and pink hues as you reach the lake. The silence of the forest is broken only by the soft murmur of the running water and the birds singing as they return to their nests.

You kneel down, dip the first bucket into the cold water, and pull it back up, feeling your arms tremble under its weight.

Damn.

Your leg, though well healed, still doesn’t give you the same strength as before. You sigh in frustration and begin filling the second bucket, already planning how to balance them both on the way home.

But the moment you turn around, your heart skips an unexpected beat.

Him. The same man who had helped you.

He was there, standing near a fallen log, working on some arrows. He wore the same dark coat as last time, and your keen eyes noticed his hunting knife fastened to his belt.

Your first reaction was a slight jolt.

— You?!

The surprise escaped before you could hold it back.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

— Hi. You all right? Did I do something?

You wetted your lips, trying to regain control of your own voice.

— I just… didn’t know you were still around.

You only shrugged, tense and nervous, watching him with that irritating calmness. Irritating? No…

You averted your eyes, gripping the bucket handles tightly.

— Well, it was nice seeing you again, but I need to take this back before it gets too late.

You tried to take a step, but the weight of the water pulled your arms down. Your ankle, injured months ago, no longer hurt as much, but it still wasn’t strong enough to handle so much strain

Damn it.

Before you could react, Charles had already stepped forward.

— Let me carry that.

His voice was firm, leaving no room for discussion.

Your eyes widened.

— No need, I—

He ignored completely and took two of the buckets with ease, gripping the wooden handle without showing the slightest strain.

You stared, speechless, for a second.

— What—

— Lead the way.

You blinked, feeling your face heat up. This man was impossible.

— I… all right. This way.

The two of you started walking along the trail, with Taima following silently behind.

The thought of Charles helping you—again—suddenly made you nervous. You felt strangely flustered, and before you realized it, your voice came out louder than it should have.

— Do you always show up to rescue helpless women?

He’s cast a sidelong glance at you, a faint smirk appearing.

— Only the ones who insist on carrying more than they can handle.

You opened your mouth, offended.

— Hey! I could’ve carried it myself!

— Could. But it would’ve taken twice the time.

You had no words for that.

With a frustrated sigh, you gave up arguing.

Silence stretched between you for a few moments as you walked, until he suddenly spoke.

— Charles.

You frowned slightly and looked at him.

— What?

He glanced at you.

— My name. Charles.

You blinked a few times, surprised, before slowly nodding.

— Oh… right.

When you reached the cabin, you opened the gate and motioned toward the porch steps. By the time you arrived at the house, the sky had darkened, and the air was growing colder. You lit a lantern, opened the door, and stepped inside, leaving Charles standing at the entrance.

— You can leave it here.

Charles set the bucket down with a steady, unhurried motion. As he straightened, you realized he was probably getting ready to leave.

And for some reason, that bothered you.

Before you could think twice, the words slipped out.

— Do you want to come in for a bit?

Charles looked at you, slightly surprised by the sudden invitation.

Your stomach twisted.

— I mean, since you helped me, the least I can do is offer you some tea. Or, I don’t know, some food, since I… was already preparing something to eat.

He hesitated.

You swallowed, feeling your nerves rise.

— I don’t want to be a bother, miss. I—

— You’re not! — It’s fine, d-don’t feel forced…! — you cut him off before he could finish.

But after a brief moment, Charles simply gave a small nod.

— All right. I accept.

You held your breath.

Why did it feel like you kept getting yourself into this?

With a quiet sigh, you opened the door wider and stepped inside, lighting a lantern.

He followed right behind.

The familiar scent of wood and dried herbs filled the air. He glanced around the room with a calm expression, as if taking in every detail.

— I’ll get something ready. Won’t take long.

Charles simply settled near the fireplace, in no hurry at all.

The warm glow of the oil lamp flickered softly as you moved through the kitchen, the comforting scent of maple syrup filling the air. Your hands worked with practiced ease, but your mind was elsewhere—on the man sitting in the other room, quiet, patient. It had been a long time since a man sat in that armchair, the one your father always claimed as his. Somehow, it made your chest feel tight.

You turned back to your task, focusing on preparing something warm and sweet. Maple syrup pudding—a simple but rich dessert, perfect for keeping the cold at bay. You mixed the flour with brown sugar and butter, your fingers pressing into the dough until it crumbled just right. The maple syrup warmed in a pot with milk, its golden color thickening as you stirred. Once combined, the mixture went into the cast-iron oven, filling the kitchen with its familiar scent.

You wiped your hands on a cloth, glancing toward the doorway. He was still there, unmoving, only the sound of the fire crackling beside him.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the teapot.

—You alright?”

His deep voice startled you, making you jump just a little. You quickly turned your back to him, pretending to adjust something on the counter.

“Aye, just fine,you muttered, your accent slipping in the words.

The tea leaves swirled in the steaming water as you tried to shake off the strange nervousness pressing against your ribs. You weren’t sure why you felt so restless. Maybe it was just the presence of someone else in your home—someone who wasn’t passing through, who wasn’t a neighbor stopping by for trade.

Someone who had helped you.

The pudding was ready, golden and fragrant, and you carefully scooped two portions onto plates. You hesitated as you reached for the silverware, glancing once more at the man still seated by the fire.

There was something about his presence that filled the space in a way you weren’t used to. Not intrusive, not uncomfortable—just there, solid and steady, like he had always belonged.

You set the plates down on the wooden table, fingers lingering on the edge of one as if debating your next words. Then, before you could overthink it, you spoke.

–C’mon, then. No point lettin’ it go cold.

He turned his head slightly, as if he hadn’t expected you to call him over. Then, without a word, he pushed himself up from the chair, his movements slow and deliberate. The floor creaked under his boots as he crossed the room, and when he sat across from you, the space between you suddenly felt much smaller.

You watched as he took the first bite, his expression unreadable at first—until you caught the slight, approving nod.

–This is good—he finally said.

You smirked, scooping up a bite for yourself.

– ’Course it is.

For a while, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the fire casting long shadows on the wooden walls. But curiosity gnawed at you, and eventually, you set your spoon down.

–Your accent…—You studied him. –Y’ain’t from ‘round here, are ya?

Charles shook his head

–No. I came from the States. Needed a fresh start.—he say.

You nodded slowly, watching him carefully. Then, after another moment, you tilted your head.

–Why are you camping out there instead of staying in town? Surely there's a room for you somewhere.- You ask him as you take a sip of tea

His fingers drummed lightly against the table before he exhaled.

–I don’t do well in towns. A big Black man takin’ up space in a place like this… it draws attention. The wrong kind.— He say, his grip on the teacup tightened slightly.

Your his grip on the teacup tightened slightly, swallowing dry feeling his discomfort.

–Y’don’t strike me as the violent type.

–I’m not,— he said simply. –But some people don’t care about that.-

The weight of his words settled between you, heavier than before. You let out a slow breath and nudged his cup toward him.

– Drink up. Tea won’t stay warm forever. –You gave a little smile without even realizing it.

A small, almost amused smile flickered at the corner of his lips.

–No, I suppose it won’t.–He say

And so, you drank in silence, the fire crackling beside you as the night slowly settled in

—————————

Keep going! It really took me a long time to think of everything and write it down, I barely have any time to spare.... intend to post a second part next week, if anyone has suggestions for things to put in another two or one more chapter, PLEASE send them to me on my dm or on tumblr's ask's, anonymous or not. I love questions and suggestions, they help me write faster and better. Bye bye ~

List of people: @photo1030 and @aotlover2002

[bountycancelled]

Black and White

(bada x reader)

requested: yes! @badasgirlfriend this one's for my babygirl

content: fem!reader, jealous! bada(she lowkey gives possesive alpha vibes in this and im sorry, but its still hot cuz its her), kind of smut? like they don't smash but close enough, HOWL (I know and im sorry)

warnings: supa suggestive like I'm dying at what I just typed (in my defense I was listening to I was never there by the weeknd so blame him) mentions of alcohol, that's it I think.

a/n: once again, i apologise. my innner whore jumped out. also eli if you wanted it to be fluffy pls lemme know and I'll wip something else up, but I still hope you like this, I love you mwah!

"how do I look?"

your words were met with a long, bordering on uncomfortable silence. this confused you, since you were asking out of genuine curiosity and had expected a quick answer from bada, but nothing came.

you turned away from the mirror and faced her, your eyes narrowing as you waited for her reply with crossed arms. "that bad, huh?" you said sarcastically.

sure, this dress was a bit more... revealing than the clothing you tended towards in your everyday, but in your defense, it wasn't everyday that you went to a gala dinner.

seeing as you and bada were both respected and accoladed dancers respectively, you had both gotten invites, so going as each others dates seemed like a no brainer.

you had settled on a sleek white number with the back completely open, and a slit (for mobility's sake, you swear) you looked really good, or, so you thought, but bada's reaction however, was making you second guess yourself.

she was in black silk gown, and she looked drop dead gorgeous. you were surprised that you weren't actually frothing at the mouth like some starved animal. hell, you wondered how you could make it through the whole night without your attraction to her being exposed.

"not bad at all." she finally clarified in an abrupt manner, as if she had been taken out a daze. "you look amazing. it's just different, but good different, I promise."

you nodded, though you weren't fully convinced by her efforts. in any case, it was a little too late to turn your back on the dress, seeing as your ride for the evening was parked in front of bada's place.

the ride to the venue was filled with a strange sort of tension, one that you couldn't quiet place. you weren't upset, or at least, you tried not be upset at the fact the bada wasn't the biggest fan of your dress, its not like she was actively berating you or anything harsh like that. but there was clear energy occurring between you and her, you could feel it in the way she gazed at you.

you really did try to get her reaction out of your mind, conversing with your dancing peers, eating foods you couldn't even pronounce at the table, but nevertheless, it kept knawing at you, forming a pit in your stomach. (you guessed that it also didn't really help that bada was sat right next to you, with her gaze fixed on your every move, even if she was talking to other people.)

as bada excused herself to the bathroom, giving you a much needed break from her stare, you decided that the only way to fill the pit in your stomach was through a drink.

you successfully made your way to the bar, careful not to trip on your own two feet, before ordering your usual and raking a seat, waiting for said drink to arrive.

you thanked the bartender, looking around the room to make sure no eyes were on you before downing the glass in an instant, relishing in the burn. you were right, this would definitely distract you.

"rough night?" a familiar voice asked as you ordered a second drink.

"how could you tell? the slumped shoulders or the fact that my drink only lasted about two seconds in my hand?" your reply was met with a laugh, as the owner of the voice, who you had recognised as howl, took to the seat next to yours.

"obviously I have no idea what's got you so shaken up, but if its any conciliation..." he trailed off, leaning just a bit closer to you, his voice a low whisper.

"you look stunning tonight." you grimaced internally, howl wasn't a bad looking man by any means, but you weren't really interested in him, or any man, or anyone that wasn't bada. you were about to respond, brushing off his attempt at flirting without it being too awkward, but you were cut off before you could even open your mouth.

"there you are, can we go outside for a sec? I wanna talk to you." thank the lord for bada, who had given you the perfect excuse to slip away from howl without even needing to entertain him for a moment longer.

you feigned a woeful expression, almost as if to convey that you didn't want to leave him alone, all the while letting bada lead you with a hand on your wrist all the way outside.

you finally paused when you made it behind the venue, and when you turned to bada, she was already looking at you. the expression on her face was nothing short of... silently seething.

you furrowed your brows, determined not to back away from this impromptu staredown you had suddenly entered. "you know, you've been acting weird ever since I asked you about my dress back at your place, so just tell me what your fucking problem is, bada."

she smirked at your outburst, and that only made you even more annoyed, what about you was so fucking amusing to her tonight? she stepped closer to you, effectively trapping you between the wall and herself, and you broke eye contact with her despite yourself. she was too close for you to think straight.

"my problem..." she paused, trailing her finger along your collarbone, her gaze fixated on your chest, rapidly rising and falling. "...is that everyone gets to see you look so fucking sexy, when I'm the only one who really deserves it." your eyes widened at her words, and you were suddenly extremely glad that the wall was behind you to give your body support.

her hand moved even further, her large hand cupping your breast through your dress, and her thumb grazing your nipple, making your head tip back automatically. "and then, fucking howl has the nerve to flirt with you?" she chuckled bitterly, cutting her laugh off with a quiet groan as your hand went over hers, keeping it on your chest.

"it made realise that people don't get it. that you're mine. so why don't I make you mine right here, so that people don't get confused anymore, hmm? you'd like it, wouldn't you? I know I would." her voice was breathy now, and you nearly moaned as she trailed her other hand along your upper thigh, using the slit to get to your underwear, which you had surely soaked through by now.

it goes without saying that you would like her to take you then too.

another a/n: this was also my second time writing something kinda smutty ever, so pls practice kindness in the comments😀

[bluesidez]

Bless Your Heart | 2. LOOKA HERE

It's your first full day on The Huntsman Farms and boy, is it busy.

tread lightly ⋆⋆⋆ humor and Miguel is very difficult once again, animals

word count ⋆⋆⋆ 8.7k (thank you @slushycoookie !!)

note on the fridge ⋆⋆⋆ This one was a long time coming, but I'm happy with the result! I hope y'all enjoy it!

last | next ℧ masrterlist ℧ AO3

The crickets in the grass provide a white noise for the night. The air conditioning fights against the stuffy room and you’re sprawled out across the bed like an exhausted child. The open-mouth, one foot hanging off the bed, dead weight kind of sleep.

It’s some of the best sleep of your life.

It didn’t even take you long to drift away. You were full, quenched, and bone-tired. There was no need to open your bags to grab a book nor scroll aimlessly on your phone. A hot shower and a glass of water did just the trick.

Somewhere, deep in your dreams, you knew you weren’t going to want to wake up so early. Not after yesterday.

You could almost cry.

The feeling of that frustration hits you more than you thought and your pillow is soaked as a result.

You shift, eyebrows pinching as your head turns, wiping your cheek against your shoulder. Your lips smack and you scratch your neck.

It didn’t take much for your breaths to slow again. The box AC kicked back on, humming over the night time.

Except, you don’t feel the air on your neck. You feel heat and a dip in the mattress. Your cheek is wet again. Your heart picks up and you hold your breath.

Blinking, the dark room phases in and you look to the ceiling.

A dog stares back at you, sniffing and shoving its cold nose into your face. As its snout moves about, drool follows. You don’t even know that you screamed until the light in your room comes on.

“You mutt, when I said wake her up, I didn’t mean kiss her. Get down!”

Gabriel’s voice booms through the room, scaring you half as bad as the droopy dog next to you.

The dog looks at him like it couldn’t stand the sight of him and then goes back to lick your face without a care in the world. You turn your head every which way, trying your best to push the dog away in your lagging state.

“Get!” Gabriel stomps his foot and claps, making the dog huff. “Down, Fido. Down!”

Fido bays like Gabriel is a stranger and you jump again. Gabriel crosses the room and stomps at him again, frightening the pup.

“I don’t know who you yellin’ at, but it ain’t me. Now, move,” he points at the door, “‘fore I have you sleeping with the hogs.”

Whining, the dog jumps down and leaves, Gabriel fussing right after him.

“All that noise at five in the morning like he’s lost his mind,” he turns to look at you, before quickly facing the wall. “I’m sorry about that. Nobody deserves to have that damn dog’s hot breath in their face at no time of day.”

Still trying to catch your bearings, you sit up in the bed. Your view is Gabriel’s backside tight in another pair of jeans with a belt holding them snug against his waist and a light brown t-shirt. This time, the belt was dark like wet wood with light roses and flowing petals etched around it.

“Why are you facing the wall?”

Your voice was a bit hoarse, still coming to back to life. Between his dog and his ass in your face, this morning was already too much to begin to register.

“I’m interrupting your beauty sleep! And uh, well I don’t wanna look at ya too long before you get ready for the day. Some of my aunties on my pa’s side make a big deal about seeing them before their curlers are out. Kinda old, but it’s just a habit I can’t shake.”

He side-steps, shuffling out of the room, elbows bent and hands stiff before him.

“Just come on out when you’re ready,” you see his profile, his eyes closed, “I’m fixin’ up something to eat.”

Watching him leave and go back to the kitchen, your eyes burn with exhaustion. Five in the morning was far too early to be dealing with any of this.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, the sound of your slides scraping across the wood floor steady. The house smells like bacon and grease. Gabriel is at the stove bouncing from skillet to pot with a towel over his shoulder.

The bathroom is small, with a black and white checkerboard tile and blue cabinet doors. You look in the mirror and become relived that Gabriel didn’t stare at you long.

Dried drool trails down your jaw, the neck of your t-shirt stretches across your collarbones, and your bonnet is barely holding on. Fido’s love was all on the other side of your face.

“Ugh,” you turn the faucet on to scrub away the muck. The cold water shocks you.

By the time you brush your teeth and freshen up, Gabriel is giving a one-man show by the stove. His shoulders are ticking away and his boot is twisting on the floor like his last name is Jackson. His hips circle from left to right and his jeans leave nothing to the imagination.

Fido gives you a tired look as he watches you from the floor next to the dining table.

“Don’t hurt ‘em, Gabriel,” you laugh. His energy is so focused on stirring something in a mug while he dances, he barely hears you.

With a quick change of clothes, a black hair tie to your hair, and sunscreen, you’re ready for the day.

You close your eyes, breathe in, and breathe out. Your chest rises and falls. Your fingers stretch and close. Whatever the day brings, you’ll be ready to take it on.

You smell smoke.

A scent like oil hitting the bottom of an oven and another like soured dough fills your nostrils. You come back to your senses and open your eyes to a foggier room.

Running out, you see Gabriel fanning at the stove with his towel, arm over his mouth as he coughs. Fido is alert and pacing around him.

“What happened?” you ask, going to open a window. “I leave for two seconds, and you’re trying to start fires!”

He opens the oven and grabs a pan. The blackest toast you’ve ever seen presents itself. Fido lays down to hide his nose and whines.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel sighs. “I called myself trying to help you out and got in here and almost burnt the place down to the ground.”

“Well, for one, you have to watch bread. It’s on broil, which means this oven is too high for you to be in here performing.”

Gabriel awkwardly laughs as you switch the knobs on the control panel back.

“And the eye on this stove is far too red for just some bacon.”

“I made some eggs too!”

He points over to a plate on the counter. On it lies dry, colorless scrambled eggs and a sunny side up with dark edges.

“I didn’t know how you liked your eggs. I tried to do over easy, but, uh,” he takes a spatula and lifts the egg up. The bottom is as dark as the skillet. “That wouldn’t make a pretty picture, now would it?”

Stunned, you reach over and turn the stove off. The smell is slowly leaving the house, but the tiny kitchen is a mess.

One pan has eggs stuck to the edges, another has bacon blending into it, and containers of butter and jelly are scattered across the counter.

“Gabriel, do you, by chance, have any idea how to cook? Have you ever had to do such a thing?”

“You say that like there’s nothing left to munch on. A little burnt pieces never hurt anybody.”

You pick up the bacon and it snaps, crumbling like sand.

“This is not burnt. It’s not even blackened. Just black.”

Gabriel gasps.

You call Fido to you, the bloodhound perking up in excitement. You place the bacon in front of his nose, waiting as he sniffs and inspects.

Fido walks backwards, droopy eyes so concerned and confused.

“So bad, even the dog doesn’t want to eat it.”

“You ungrateful bastard,” Gabriel curls his lip to Fido who huffs and lays back down. “See if I give you some bones today.”

“How about you clean this up, I open up some more windows, and then I’ll make us something while you hand me what I need? That sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot better than whatever the hell I was trying to do.”

After a dish drying rack full of pans, a third of a carton of eggs, one sausage link, several pieces of bacon, and two slices cheese jelly toast later, you’ve set the kitchen straight with a hearty breakfast.

“Sure you don’t want any grits?” you ask Gabriel as you pour up some orange juice.

“No, you’ve done enough for me already, doll. Grits are more up Miguel’s alley and after yesterday’s stunt he don’t deserve nothing from you. Not even an ass to kiss.”

You snicker, happy that at least one of your bosses was on your side.

“Well,” you give him a cup and sit down. “Let’s dig in.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Grabbing a fork, you watch with anticipation as he turns his plate. It was a simple breakfast, but sometimes the simplest things were the easiest to mess up.

He takes a bite of his eggs and you could have sworn his feet did a little dance.

“Is it good?”

“Is it good? I don’t think I’ll have to drive downtown to a diner anymore. I can just come to you.”

You clap your hands four times with glee and take a bite.

“Come over here too much and I’ll have to charge you.”

“Name your price and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

With a hand over your heart you gasp, “You really think I’d charge you?”

“I think you should. Making good food ain’t easy and you should never work for free. I ain’t nobody special. But speaking of special, what’s the jelly on your cheese toast about?”

“You’ve never had that before?”

“Never in my 34 years of life have I thought to mix dairy and fruit on toast.”

“Pastry puffs? Tarts? Pies?”

“My grandma on my pa’s side makes a mean apple pie.”

“Exactly. And if you add a scoop of ice cream on top, that would be?”

He smirks after he bites a piece of sausage, “Mixing dairy, fruit, and some kind of bread. You got me.”

“With your freshly opened mind, try this.” You take your toast with cheese and grape jelly in your hand then put a few pieces of bacon on one side. Afterward, you fold the bread over, creating a mini sandwich in your hand. “Sweet, savory, and filling. The perfect delicious quick breakfast.”

Gabriel turns over the toast in his hand and scans it with curiosity. For all the questioning he was doing, the giant bite he takes has you biting the inside your lip to hold in your laughter.

You see his eyes sparkle as his eyebrows scrunch up, looking between you and the halfway-gone sandwich.

“I might have to start up another house and open a Bed and Breakfast. Turn the Ranch into a goldmine.”

“Over a bacon sandwich?”

“Over a bacon sandwich,” Gabriel finishes the rest in one bite and sucks the jelly off of his thumb. He wipes it with a paper towel before he grabs a butter knife and another piece of toast.

“It’ll blow your mind even more if you throw some eggs on it.”

“You are just full of ideas.”

His voice sounds skeptical again, but when he scoops the yellow fluff onto the bread that same sparkle comes back tenfold.

Gabriel humming and commenting with each bite fills the space of the kitchen. Fido begs by your feet for food, sniffing the ground and looking up at you with big eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gabriel snaps at him. “Door. Now.”

Fido looks at you like you can save him. You can only sigh through your nose at how expressive he is. He’s cuter when he’s not slobbering.

“I can’t help you buddy,” you say to him. He only budges when Gabriel gives his butt a nudge. He drags himself to the door, grunting as he stares at the floor.

You’re about to ask Gabriel if you can give Fido a piece of sausage when he starts to bark at the door.

His tail is wagging and you can make out a blurry figure through the foggy glass.

You opened the door and look up, not expecting a boy with a head of thick and wavy hair, dark eyes, a few moles, and the stance of an O’Hara.

“Gabriel! You didn’t tell me you had another brother!”

The tall boy’s eyebrow goes up and you wonder if he got that from Miguel.

Gabriel jumps up and laughs as if he won the lottery. His arm wraps around the boy’s shoulders and almost knocks him over pulling him inside.

“You hear that? I still got it!” He pops his collar and pokes his hip out, grin bright on his face.

The grimace that marks the boy’s features brings you back to yesterday’s Gabriel who watched you shovel dark, stinky gunk.

“You’re not old,” he brushes Gabriel’s hand off, “Just strange.”

You try to hold back your laugh, you really do, but the shock on Gabriel’s face causes the snort at the back of your nose to build into giggles.

Straightening up his shirt, Gabriel scoffs, “Don’t hate, appreciate.”

“Hate on what?”

Gabriel clears his throat and puts his arm back around the boy, “This is my greatest pride and joy, my flesh and blood, my little rascal, my superstar, the Number One Junior Cowboy in the land-”

“My name is Rafael and I’m his son, ma’am,” he interrupts Gabriel’s words, holding his hand out to shake. The accent in his voice was subtle compared to his father’s and his tone a lot less strong.

“You never let me finish my speeches.”

Shaking Rafael’s hand you look back and forth between the two. There were a lot of similarities. Still, one thing had your head tilted in confusion.

“Before you ask,” Rafael starts, “I’m 17, not younger, not older, but 17.”

He sounds so distressed about it you wonder how often his age is put into question. “Thank you for the confirmation. Your baby face is quite strong.”

Rafael opens his mouth then closes it abruptly, face unable to hide his shock.

“See Rafa,” Gabriel looks straight at his son, “not everybody thinks you’re grown like you think you’re grown. You’re still my baby bug.”

He squeezes Rafael’s face, cooing as he tried to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Stop,” Rafael glowers, putting his palm over Gabriel’s mouth and pushing it back. “I don’t know where your mouth has been and I just cleared my face up.”

Sighing, Gabriel turns to you, defeated.

“I remember when he used to cry when I had to leave for work. Now, I have to fight him just to hear ‘I love ya, Pops!’ Just breaking my little heart.”

Rafael copies his dad’s defeated look, whether he means to or not, and halts the sob story, “We need to practice today, and you’re in here running your mouth.”

“So, are you coming in here to fuss at me or do you really need me to practice?

“Both.”

“You hang around Miguel too much,” Gabriel grimaces. “You sound just like him.”

“And he doesn’t rub off on you enough. You should hang around him more.”

“He tried to hurt your poor pops yesterday and you’re sticking up for him.”

“What did you do?”

“I ain’t do nothing!”

It was like watching a tennis match seeing them go back and forth. A comedic tennis match. Whereas Gabriel was playful and silly, Rafael was serious and having none of it.

“Why do you always get like this when it’s time for rodeo prep?” Your ears pickup on Rafael’s words, but you can’t butt in. “And why does it smell like that in here?”

Gabriel looks like he’s about to smack him, but you save him, “Your daddy tried to kill us this morning with his cooking.”

Rafael laughs, “He’s banned from Mamá’s kitchen for life. I don’t know why he decided today was a good day to try to cook again.”

Turning him around, Gabriel lightly kicks at the back of Rafael’s knees, moving him out of the door.

“Go busy yourself instead of wasting this nice lady’s time.”

“You’re the one wasting her time,” Rafael laughs in response, smile from earlier getting bigger. You think he looks most like Gabriel this way, with his giggles showing his full set of teeth.

“Wait, Rafael. Before you go, do you want something to eat? I’ve got plenty of food left. That your daddy had no part in.”

“So is this how it’s going to be? Shooting a man while he’s already down?” Gabriel asks out loud in disbelief.

“Yes ma’am, I would love some,” Rafael bumps Gabriel out of the way to follow you back inside.

When he gets to the display of food, it’s like introducing a toddler to a candy store for the first time. One small bite of eggs turns into ten seconds of scarfing down food. You’ve never seen anything like it. You kindly show him the same dish you showed Gabriel and it was like déjà vu.

“Boy, you’re acting like I don’t feed you!” Gabriel huffed by the door.

“You don’t. Mamá does.”

“She ain’t feed you this morning?”

“She slept in today and Tío wanted us out on the field bright and early. Which reminds me, I’m really late. Gotta get back.”

He grabs three connected paper towels and gently asks you if he could take some more food which you happily agree too. He gathers the rest of the toast and bacon, making about seven more sandwiches. You mentally thank yourself for making way too much food.

“Alright, I gotta go! Thank you again for the food, ma’am.”

“It’s no problem. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

Rafael shuffles out of the house, arms full of food. Gabriel shakes his head as he opens the screen door for him.

“Just big and greedy. Just like your damn uncle.”

His son only makes a face at him and carries on.

“Don’t have kids,” Gabriel has his arms crossed as he watches Rafael carefully walk on the path beside that stark-white house. “I was wild back then. Too wild.”

Raising an eyebrow, you look at his profile, “You sure you’re not still wild now?”

“I’m not foolin’ with you, Ms. Ranch Hand. Now c’mon before I have to hear Miguel’s mouth via child again.”

You thought you had seen all the ranch had to offer yesterday, but as you hold onto the top of Gabriel’s camo-colored golf cart for dear life, your eyes dart across the land in front of you in awe.

There were a few more houses on the land both big and small. Manicured grass covers the entire lot. Full gardens, still ponds, and hay bales in the midst of fields pass you by. Trees stand tall along the outskirts and that same bright red fence peeks out every now and then.

After each bump in the road, Gabriel cackles at you cutting off your curses. He chatters on and on about how everything was built from the ground up by the hands of his father’s family and enhanced with the knowledge of his mother’s family.

When you drive past his home, you take in the grandness of it, unable to hold back your gasp.

It was rustic, with irregular bricks switching from one shade to the next and lighter vertical shiplap on some walls. The dark wood arch of the front doors matched the tone of the roof. A long driveway led to the garage and forked off into a path leading to the porch.

As your eyes locked onto the home, he had a story of how it was once a shack ready to tell.

His granddad first made it to get him and his cousins out of his man cave.

“We got a hold of his poitín, like moonshine. That was the first time I’ve ever seen a man turn red from his back in under a second. And some of my cousins were no better. Red in the hair, redder in the face, drunk as a skunk.”

“I would have been mad too! Imagine wanting to unwind and you find your grandkids in your liquor cabinet. Y’all are so lucky that a shack is all you got.”

“Oh, but my pa was even more furious. That was the second longest mass of my life.”

“What was the first?”

He squinted through the sunlight, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. He’s so quiet, you think something is wrong. You turn to him and he smiles without reaching his eyes.

“When Pa found out he’d be a granddad before I could finish packing up for college. A semester’s worth of that…what’s it called? Raymond?”

“Ramen?”

“Yeah! That! A semester’s worth of that was stocked up in the shack. At least while my wife could still stomach it.”

“Mm, I think it’s for the best. They didn’t need you starting fires from the dorm microwaves.”

Gabriel breaks, pulling his laugh from his gut. The tightness from earlier subsides and you grin at him.

“You won’t let that go, will you?”

“Not a chance.”

The two of make it to your destination in one piece. Minus your heart ramming into your chest as Gabriel turns into the small parking lot.

There was a cherry red horse arena with a white roof and black trimmed doors. Three flags protruded from walls: American, Mexican, and Irish.

Gabriel hops out as best as he could, a grunt filling the air as he stands.“Let’s see if he’s working my son to death or not.”

With the engine cut, the closest sounds of nature are drowned out by the hooves of horses hitting the ground. As you get closer to the giant barn doors, Gabriel grins like it’s Tax Day.

“Ready for a preview of the best show in the world?”

You nod, squeezing your fingers in anticipation.

You can’t remember the last time you climbed flights of concrete and metal stairs to watch cowboys and cowgirls alike. Though, you do remember the feeling of standing up on the seat with stars in your eyes as your dad braced your legs from slipping away. The smell of leather, the sea of brown hats, the shouts of the crowd, the wind in the rider’s hair. It was always like magic to you.

Thinking of the well-mannered boy from this morning, you had no idea how he would appear riding around on a horse.

Gabriel pulls the door open, the wheels on the track making a loud screech.

With how he described it, yelling over the revving engine, you were expecting Rafael to damn near flip onto his horse from the side fences.

Stepping onto the sand and walking up to the barricade, it was quite the opposite.

If you had a nickel for every time you were greeted with the bottom of an O’Hara man, you’d have ten cents. Enough for one Big Slice Pop.

Miguel leaned over a fence with a dark denim button down and matching jeans adorning him. A black baseball cap with the ranch logo sits backwards on his head and one of his boots is hooked on the bottom part of the fence.

There were five kids saddled up on horses of different sizes walking slowly in a circle that he kept his eyes on. You recognize Rafael and Gabriella, but the others, you’ve never seen before.

Gabriella looks in your direction and waves frenziedly.

“Keep ‘em steady,” Miguel shouted across the room. “Focus, Gabriella!”

She huffs and puts her hands back on her hot pink reigns. Her horse is light brown with a blonde mane and cotton candy pink streaks. You think the name Flora was fitting for it.

“Never mind. He’s boring my kids to death,” Gabriel mumbles next to you. You both walk to the right side of arena.

“Kids?” Looking at him from your peripheral, you didn’t mean to sound so stunned, but you couldn’t help it.

He, on the other hand, was unmoved.

“Kids. I said that earlier, didn’t I?”

“You said nothing of the sort.”

“Hm. I could have sworn I did.”

Rafael shuffles by with his gold horse. Gabriel snickers at the tired look on his face and starts to tease him from the sidelines.

“I bet you wish you weren’t rushing in here now, huh?”

His son only rolls his eyes and steers his horse away. The pinch in his eyebrows doesn’t quiver as he finishes off a lap.

It’s not long before another child comes by mouthing ‘help me, please’ with all of his might. While Rafael looks like Gabriel with hints of someone else, this one was a carbon copy of him with a scar embedded in his cheek. Looking at him, you can picture the stories of mischief about a younger Gabriel a lot easier.

His dad only shrugged at him and gestured to keep riding.

“How long do they need to do this for?” you ask, watching a mini-Miguel come closer. He hardly blinks, little face focusing on his horse. “How long have they been doing this today, rather?”

“Good question. Usually they do warmups catered to their horses and their specific riding categories. This pony show is news to me.”

Gabriella reaches the gate and her puppy dog eyes are in tact.

“Tío, I’m hungry,”she pouts.

“Y’all didn’t eat yet?” Gabriel walks by the gate alongside her.

“Nuh uh! Daddy said we needed to do laps first. But I’m starving right now!”

Her uncle tries to keep a light face, but you can see the cracks in his mask through the way his lips tighten over his teeth.

“Tell you what, go put Flora in a stable and come on back,” Gabriel sighs. “In fact, all of y’all stop and take a break.”

He unlocks the gate and holds it until everyone is out and turning into the large side doors. It’s not until the last child leaves that Gabriel’s demeanor shifts from bubbly to blunt.

“Are you crazy?” Gabriel starts. He holds onto the top of the fence as he limps towards his brother. “Having these kids up here in the morning with no food?”

“I told you and her to be here early this morning.” Miguel stops to check his watch. “And if I’m not mistaken, I said to be here at seven on the dot. It’s nearly two hours later.”

“What does that have to do with the damn kids, Miguel?”

“We work as a team. Can’t start nothing without everybody here and accounted for. You already know that.”

Gabriel slams the gate, rattling the entire fence.

“I’m gonna walk away because you fixin’ to aggravate my nerves and I don’t need that this morning.”

“Good. There’s nothing to argue about.”

Gabriel waves his hand in frustration, grunting to sound Miguel out. He turns around, barely mustering a smile to you before he stomps off after the kids.

Left standing awkwardly, you place your hands in your back pockets for comfort.

Though you hadn’t known him long, you never thought you would see Gabriel get that upset. He seemed so happy-go-lucky in everything that he did, even in his sliver of sadness.

Still, you would be furious too if someone had your kids up and working without any type of fuel.

The culprit was currently walking towards you with his hands on his hips.

Miguel looks down at you, gaze lingering on your legs. His lips twitched as you shuffled a bit, folding your arms under your chest.

“You’re wearing shorts to work?”

Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

Looking down, your mouth twists to the side in irritation before you can even stop it.

They weren’t exactly daisy dukes, though if you bend forward enough, they could be. The ripped hems hug your skin and don’t leave much to the imagination, but it was the first pair you grabbed.

You count to three, fix your face, and unfold your arms.

“It’s hot. Is that a problem?”

When you look back at him, his head tilts, brown eyes trailing back up to your face.

“It’s adequate.”

“Adequate?”

He takes his cap off, runs a hand through his hair, and places it back on. He breathes in and the white shirt under his jacket constricts.

“For a barbecue. Not cleaning stables.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have the same pair of pants in five million colors,” you scoff. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

“I would like for you to be on time. This is your second strike.”

Biting back a comment about how your life was left in the hands of his accident prone brother and his drooping companion, you simply nod.

“I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“I don’t need you to try, I need you to act. It would be much more appreciated,” he walks a bit closer to you, your head rising up and up to meet his eyes. “Understood?”

“Understood. Heard loud and clear. Sir.”

His eyelids lower slightly and you wait for yet another thing to respond to. Yet, he stares at you for longer than necessary to get his point across.

“First things first, I need you to level out the arena.”

“Alright. And how do I do that?”

Miguel’s eyebrows pinch, his expression perturbed. You look to the lumpy sand mixture spread under light walls and a windowed roof then look back at him.

“You’re asking me…how to even out sand?”

“Is there no special procedure?”

“Will I have to tell you how to do everything moving forward?”

Sighing, you reach up to twist your braids over and over to pin them up into a bun. “The kids will be here practicing some more, right? I just want to make sure that everything is done properly. No harmed toe or hoof on behalf of me not knowing what I’m doing.”

Miguel stares again. This time, you really can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He walks off to the doors where the kids went, leaving you alone.

It’s not like the arena was a sandbox you claimed at the park. It was a stomping ground for an animal twice your size. Wasn’t it better to be safe than sorry?

Miguel comes back with a long, handmade contraption in his arms. It’s a piece of wood bolted to a wired fence with chain links dangling from it. He kicks open the gate and drops it, particles flying everywhere.

He dusts his hands off and turns to you. “Since you’re not tractor certified-”

“How would you know that?” The words fly out of you before you can stop them.

“Well, are you?”

Peeved, you look off as you shake your head. The last time you worked a standard shift was when your dad told you when to shift the gears of his truck on the ride to school. You weren’t even driving. You were 10.

“Right, like I said. Since you’re not tractor certified, you’re gonna take this here chain, and drag this harrow in a circle ‘round the arena. Simple.”

“Ok.” You step on the sand and take the chain from him. It’s rusty and dry, leaving residue on your fingers at every touch.

Miguel steps out of your way and back by the fence. He resumes the position he had earlier. Now, you feel like the show pony.

“Get to pullin’,” Miguel taps the fence twice. “We ain’t got all day.”

Taking your tongue between your teeth, you yank the chain, expecting it to move swiftly. When it yanks you back, the sound of metal clanking together echoes through the building, and you want the sand to create a funnel to pull you in.

How the hell did he even pick up this piece of junk?

You try again to no avail. The wood only budges about a centimeter. You curse under your breath.

“If that’s too much, I got a rake with your name on it,” Miguel offers. It feels like he’s right behind you and if you look at him now, you might blow a fuse.

Bending your knees, you tighten your grip and pull. The harrow moves slowly, leaving shaky lines in its wake.

It’s not until you’re finally turning your first corner five minutes later that Miguel calls out again.

“I got a yard rake and this hand harrow!”

Stubborn, you keep pulling, muttering a “fuck you,” using the distance to your advantage.

“What was that?” Miguel yells.

“I said no thank you! I got it.”

For thirty more minutes, you build up a sweat by dragging a gate around. Your face is dewy and your t-shirt is sticking to your armpits. When you make it back to where Miguel is standing, your back is drenched.

“Good,” he nods, looking at your work. “Now, you need to take it up the middle and run over it again.”

“What?”

“Look at it,” he bends his head to point at the arena floor. “It ain’t all even. Still bumpy. You gotta run it again.”

“Miguel.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. You purse your lips in response.

“Mr. O’Hara, this alone took half an hour.”

“Are you complaining right now? Do you not wanna work?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. You just stood over there and said the kids need to practice. By the time I finish, it’ll be time for them to eat again.”

“And that’s why punctuality is important. Right?”

You felt like that point was made yesterday when you were scrubbing manure out of the crevices of your shoes. Still, you pulled the chain and made your way down the center of the arena.

By the time the kids reenter the room, your hands are sore from trying to stop the chain from slipping from your grasp.

Rafael stands with a look of concern on his face as you inch past the fence.

“Why are you dragging that?”

“Ask your uncle.”

Miguel shrugs as Rafael looks at him, “I tried to give her the rake.”

Your eye twitches and you want to whack him with the wood you’re pulling. Too bad you couldn’t pick it up without some help.

“Are you ok?” Rafael lowers his voice, hand on Miguel’s shoulder. You don’t hear his answer over the metal.

The two of them continue talking with Miguel’s attention still on you. His nephew is shaking his head, hands moving dramatically. When you pause for a deep breath, you swear you can hear him tell Miguel to grow up.

The gate swings open and Rafael walks toward you. He taps your shoulder and grabs the chain.

“Hey, I’ll take it from here.”

“Did you guys ever eat?” you wipe some sweat from your jaw. “That’s more important. I can handle this much.”

“No, you’ve been doing this for too long and I’m scared you’re going to pass out. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’d rather me pass out than y’all.”

Rafael’s shoulders slump, “You’ve done enough, ma’am. Without you, we’d be riding on empty stomachs. Please, go sit and drink some water.”

His sincerity gets you to quit, your urge to prove Miguel wrong also subsides. Miguel couldn’t even look you in the eye as you go to sit on the ground.

The children peer at you from the doors and you try your best to smile. You think you look worn out, though.

Gabriella comes to you as you fan your neck, a cold water bottle in her hands.

“Here you go,” she squats in front of you, an arms-length away. “Sometimes when I’m hot, I shake it and put it on my forehead.”

Thanking her, you do just that, the touch of the plastic cooling you down.

Gabriella moves to sit with her legs scrunched up, cheek on her arm as she stares. That same sparkle in her eyes from yesterday afternoon is back.

“Ah,” you sigh, feeling shy. “Where are my manners? How are you feeling today, Gabriella?”

She perks up, timid demeanor unfolding like a flower waking up. She scooches closer until her purple and black cowgirl boots touch the tips of your docs.

“I’m doing good!”

“I’m happy you’re doing good.”

She starts to say something then stops, face unable to hide her emotion. Her button nose scrunches up in determination.

“Do you like popsicles?”

Snorting, you move the bottle to your neck, “I love popsicles.”

She looks back to Miguel who’s tying the harrow to the back of a muddy quad. You want to laugh in disbelief as Rafael hops on it to finish the job you started.

It wasn’t even a tractor.

Gabriella grabs your wrist. “Follow me.”

“Here,” she passes you a red freezer pop. You hadn’t had one in over a decade. “I saw Daddy put them in here yesterday. He doesn’t know that I saw him.”

You gasp dramatically, “Gabriella! Are you sneaky?”

“Nuh uh!” she hushes, “’m not sneaky. I’m smooth! Like Jade.”

Thinking about how she snuck past her family to get into your house yesterday, you’d have to agree.

“We gotta hurry and eat fast. I think I have to practice barrel racing after Manny.”

She holds out her pink popsicle like a glass to clink and you say cheers with a grin. The two of you lean on a deep freezer and eat quietly.

“Wanna know a secret?” Gabriella asks.

“Always!”

She beckons you closer and you lean down to hear.

“Sometimes, Daddy farts in his sleep.”

Whether the grimace or the laugh comes first, you’re gasping for air at Gabriella’s words. She giggles behind her hands next to you and it’s the cutest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Does he really?”

“Yeah! And he snores too loud. It wakes me up.”

The idea you have of him shifts a bit more. This tall, serious, and stern man has his flaws. And the bubble guts too, apparently.

“I’m sorry for what he made you do earlier. Usually, that’s a boy’s job.”

“Hey, you don’t need to say sorry for him,” you look at her and you want to give her a hug. She looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. “He might do things that I don’t understand, but that’s not your fault.”

“But it wasn’t right. He always tells me to be kind even when others aren’t kind to me.” She lowers her tone as best as she can, “Sunshine, it don’t cost a dime to be kind. You’ll be rich.”

You nod your head slowly. A broken clock was right twice a day.

“Well, how I see it, you’re doing right by listening to your dad. You’ve been kind enough to me for the both of you and then some. Still, I’m a big girl. I can handle it. Any job he throws at me, I’ll get it done. Thank you for worrying about me.”

“And here I thought y’all two were running ‘round with the cows.”

You and Gabriella jump, throwing the plastic behind you as Gabriel leans on the doorway.

“Gabriel! Aren’t we happy to see you, right Gabbie?”

“Right!”

“I bet y’all are,” he shakes his head and points behind him. “Get on back to the arena Baby Girl.”

She looks at you apologetically and runs off, her uncle patting her head as she zooms by.

“How you holdin’ up?” Gabriel asks.

“Possibly worst than you were when you left. Arguably the same. Gabriella was an angel though and improved my mood.”

“She tends to have that effect on others. And letting you in on the secret popsicle stash? She must really like you. She won’t even let poor Manny have a fourth of one.”

“You know, that’s the second time I’ve heard that name. Should we put a face to it?”

He bows, hat to his chest, “After you.”

The boys are standing up from tallest to shortest like a xylophone, per Gabriel’s request. One short shout of “round up!” had them lining up with begrudging steps.

“Where are those smiles at? Ain’t y’all happy to be a O’Hara?” Gabriel has his hands on his hips and the tone of a coach.

A chorus of yes’s echoes through the arena and Gabriel claps loudly.

“Good! That’s what I like to hear.”

He walks past them like a colonel, tapping shoulders and lifting chins. Behind you, Miguel sighs and throws a saddle over the fence.

“This is Rafael, you met him this morning. My oldest, my flesh and blood, my little rascal, my superstar, the Best Junior Cowboy in the land-”

“So, this morning was a bit,” you cut in.

Gabriel stamps his boot in the ground, “Dammit, I just can’t finish boasting ‘bout my child, can I?”

“My fault. Continue.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the Best Junior Cowboy in the land and soon to be the best Cowboy in the land.”

“We don’t know that,” Rafael hums.

“Yes, the hell we do, boy. Don’t start. Tighten up.”

Rafael exhales through his nose as his father steps past him.

“This is Gage, my second oldest, but most of the time, we call him Junior.”

You watch him shift his stance, thumbs hooked through his belt loops and crocodile boots peaking out from under his jeans. The smile he sported look just like Gabriel’s when he told you he beat Miguel in a mud truck race.

Looking between Gage and Rafael, a question forms.

“Twins?”

“Irish,” Gabriel, Rafael, and Gage respond in unison.

“That makes sense.”

Gabriel looks at his son up and down as he poses. “I thought I told you not to wear them boots out here. All you’re ‘bout to do is tear ‘em up.”

“Not if your dog gets a hold of ‘em, first! I tried to get ‘em out his mouth, but he thought I was playin’ and tugged for twenty minutes.”

Rafael’s shoulders shook as he laughed and Gage elbowed him in the stomach in retaliation.

“And I told you stop leaving your shoes wherever you please. You’re not the only one that lives in that house.”

You watched the two of them fuss and the nickname Junior became more and more accurate. Gabriel was arguing with himself.

“Ok, ok, we get it. Don’t leave my shoes on the floor. When do we to get to the part where you list all of my accolades?” Gage grins at his father, teeth sparkling in the same way.

It’s your turn to snicker as Gabriel smacks the back of his head. His son groans loudly and ruffles his hair.

“It took me all morning to do this! I woke up extra early!”

“Son, you look the same as any other day.”

“Exactly. Perfect.”

Tired, Gabriel turns to you, “As you can see, a handful. He has the potential to be the best bronc rider if he wasn’t so worried ‘bout lookin’ in the damn mirror all the time.”

“Clothes make the man. Didn’t you teach me that?” Gage squints at his father. He turns to smile at you, “I like your shorts, for one.”

You start to thank him when two smacks on his head from Gabriel and Rafael stop you. Miguel tells him to watch his mouth from the chair he pulled up by the wall. You look to him and his leg crossed with a shaking foot, a frown on his face. Gabriella is sprawled out over his lap pretending to fly.

“Moving on,” Gabriel gives Gage a knowing look to which he avoids. “This is Ricardo. He’ll be the first cowboy with a Michelin star.”

“A cowboy already has two, Pa,” Ricardo says.

He looks embarrassed as Gabriel takes a thumb and smooths out his thick eyebrows. His auburn hair and his heart-shaped birthmark makes him stand out from his siblings.

“You’ll have ten!”

“They only go up to three.”

“Are you questioning me?”

Huffing, Ricardo shook his head as Gabriel steps past.

“Last, but not least, is my prodigy, Manuel.”

You looked down to see a child who you thought was Miguel’s. Suddenly, it’s like you’re standing outside with your suitcase and your hand out again.

“It’s nice to nice to meet you ma’am,” his little voice even reminds you of his uncle. His attitude is miles better.

“It’s lovely to meet you, too.”

Looking at them all like this, you could see Gabriel’s influence. Whether it’s the personality, the playfulness, the talent, or the entire person, his boys were parts of him.

He took his boys into his arms, half of them reluctant, half of them unbothered.

“These are my kiddos. You’ll see them running around more often than not.”

You repeat their names again and introduce yourself with hopes to getting to know them better.

Gabriel begins another speech, going on and on about the importance of family and the pride of the ranch.

Miguel cuts him off with Gabriella latched onto his back like a koala.

“This is great. Fantastic even. I needed this speech this morning when you were off doing God knows what. Right now though, the boys need to practice for at least 15 minutes each.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Gage wails.

“Make it 30. You’re up first. Go get Prince ready.”

Gage looks from his uncle to his dad in disbelief.

“Gotta fight for those accolades, son.”

“It’s cool,” Gage says as he grins at you. “I get to show off my skills.”

“Make it 45 and a lap ‘round the arena.”

His second eldest nephew shrieks as Rafael kicks him in the shin.

Miguel addresses the rest of his nephews with sharp snaps. “Y’all go stretch. We don’t want any more accidents like the hot shot over here.”

“I can’t win for losing,” Gabriel grumbles.

With how Miguel was acting, you were worried that the boys would be here all night. If you took in Rafael’s composure, this seemed like a normal occurrence. If you considered Gage’s complaints, this seemed like unnecessary torture.

Be that as it may, that practice wasn’t for nothing.

Gabriel’s boasting made sense as you watched each of his boys rip and run with their stallions. Although Miguel and Gabriel had a note after each pull of the reign or spin of the lasso, you were truly awed.

To Rafael riding with one foot in a stirrup to swiftly slide on the ground to Ricardo tying knots in under 10 seconds to Manuel catching a calf like it’s nothing.

Even as Gage almost busts his butt hopping off his horse, you want to clap.

“I was ‘posed to do that!” he’s wiping his hands down his jeans as he reassures you.

“No, you weren’t,” Miguel writes on the clipboard he’s been holding since practice began. “Go get the balance board.”

As the boys finish up, they start to file in next to you on metal folding chairs, the creaks loud under the roof. The hats they wore placed securely in their laps and they all look exhausted.

The last to practice was Gabriella.

She hopped on Flora with spunk, rubbing the horse’s neck and talking to her.

“Ya ready, Sunshine?” Miguel has a timer in his hand.

“Yeah!”

When he says go, nothing could have prepared you for the switch. Gabriella is like a swirl of pinks and lilacs as she takes off, turning and dodging barrels with ease. Two laps feels like two seconds as she runs off with Flora down the arena.

“What’s the time?” Gabriel asks, leaning forward.

Miguel looks at him, “16.923.”

He jumps up with a shout. “That’s my baby girl!”

Gabriella lets out a shriek as she steps down from Flora. She runs to Miguel who drops the board and swings her up in his arms.

“Muy bien, mija,” he kisses her cheeks with a soft smile. “That was your best score yet.”

“Did ya see? I held on tight like you said! And, and, and I kept my pinkie toe in the stirrup!”

“I know, I know! I saw you. We gotta work on that left barrel turn, though.”

Gabriella groans and bends backward like she’s about to fall out of his arms. He’s quick to catch her, face unmoving as if he’s used to that move.

It was the most gentle you’ve seen him all day.

“Give her some slack,” Gabriel walks towards them. “They’ve all worked hard today and I’m ready to eat. And I’m tired.”

At the thought of food, his sons hopped up from their seats, heading to the stables to prep to leave.

“How you tired when you just sat there all day?”

“Speaking of eating,” Gabriel grins at his phone with a fire in his eyes. “Mami is ready for me to come on home.”

Miguel pushes Gabriel’s face out of his own with disgust. He points to his daughter still in his arms. “Time and place.”

“Tío, can Tee Tee do my hair tomorrow?”

Gabriel pushes her hair back and gives her a sad look.

“I’m not sure Baby Girl, she hasn’t been feeling too dandy today. This month has been hard on her.”

Her eyelashes flutter sadly and Gabriel becomes a puddle.

“H-how ‘bout I do it, huh? What d’ya think ‘bout that?”

“The last time you did it, you took a chunk out.”

Your jaw drops in horror and Gabriella’s bottom lip wobbles.

“That was an accident, Gabbie. You know I didn’t mean it! W-what about your daddy? He can do it!”

“He brushes my hair too hard! It hurts!”

Miguel bounces her a bit, trying to calm her down. “Sunshine, I’ll just have to do it in a pigtail like always. You’re gonna be wearing a helmet. You don’t need to worry ‘bout all that. ”

Her dad might as well have told her that she couldn’t wear pink anymore because she’s start sobbing like a baby. Gabriel panics and pulls her from Miguel’s arms trying to shush her.

Manuel peeks around the corner with a frown, pecan eyes finding Gabriella in tears.

Miguel rubs her back, line in his forehead becoming more prominent.

Taking a tiny step, you went out on a limb.

“I could do her hair. If you don’t mind. If she’s comfortable.”

The three of them look at you and the air around Gabriel shifts.

“Could you really?”

“Yeah! It wouldn’t be hard at all.”

“I could have it like yours?” Gabriella’s voice wobbles and you nod your head.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You look to Miguel who regards you with a displeasure worse than this morning, more severe than yesterday.

“No.”

The sun was lower, leaving rays to slant across the gray floors. His mouth was cast in a shadow, but his eyes read clear.

“But Daddy-"

“I said no, Gabriella.”

She looks at her father with uncertainty, chest shaking with every breath she took. She writhes, making Gabriel quickly place her on the ground, then she runs off. Manuel follows after her, calling her name.

Gabriel sighs, “Really, Miguel?”

“Really. Go get her horse, since you feel like you run shit.”

“The girl’s asking for something small and we have someone here to help out. We have the means to give it to her.”

“And I didn’t ask for any goddamn help,” he points a finger to Gabriel’s chest. “Not with this farm, not with my work, and for damn sure, not with my own child.”

He brushes past his brother, shoulders knocking into his. When he marches towards you, your nails dig into your palms.

Leaning down, he levels himself with you and blocks the light from your view. “That’s strike three. I want you out of here come the morning.”

You didn’t know you were holding your breath until you're watching his figure walk beyond where the light could touch.

dividers by ⋆⋆⋆ saradika + rookthornesartistry 💚

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[creepswrites]

Might you compose a soft and endearing tale, featuring a gender-neutral protagonist, alongside Thomas Hewitt from the 2003 rendition? Your attention to this request would be greatly valued. Thank you sincerely!🙂

i like your funny words magic man, ask and you shall receive :] sorry it took so long ough...

THOMAS HEWITT X GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: He just stared at you like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The punchline. But you didn't do much more than give his hand a squeeze and motion towards the pens. "Wanna get to work?" You frowned when you noticed he hadn't moved in awhile. "Thomas?"

"Y'know, your family thinks we're dating." You said so casually, following after Thomas through the fields.

The hot Texas sun beat down on you, dry grass brushing at your legs where your old work boots didn't cover. It was too hot for pants so you'd opted for shorts, now regretting the choice as the brush tickled at your exposed skin. You'd been assigned with accompanying Thomas to check out the livestock this morning before it got too hot, which you were honestly grateful for. Of all the chores the family had given you, you didn't mind taking care of the animals too much.

But you didn't really mind any chores so long as Thomas helped you.

You two had grown close during your short time with the Hewitt family. Luda May had found you hitchhiking in the sweltering heat a few weeks back and decided to give you help, bringing you home and getting you situated. You were... aware of what their family did. What they ate. But you preferred to lock yourself in your room when they brought over "guests" and tried to not think too hard when dinnertime rolled around.

Since you were still so new, you still had to be babysat during certain chores. Hoyt would've preferred you stayed in the kitchen cooking or cleaning the house but Luda May had insisted you experience more then just tending to the house. "Who knows," she'd said with a smirk in your directions, "Maybe when they get more serious about our Tommy, they'll need to know how to handle everything once we're dead 'n gone."

Her words stuck with you. Serious about Thomas? Did they assume you two were dating?

Thinking back on your interactions with him, you supposed you could see why they'd think that way. You tend to gravitate towards Thomas when the family fought, standing by his side and relying on his protection. Hoyt could be vicious when he was mad, especially towards you. You weren't family to them yet and the man never wasted an opportunity to remind you that you were expendable, still menu potential.

But Thomas always came to your aid, no matter what.

Which led to now. You watched his back as he walked ahead of you, slowing to a stop as he did. He looked at you over his shoulder, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Wha'dya you make of that?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, studying him.

Thomas seemed to mull it over before turning away in lieu of any real response. Which was typical of him.

But you weren't having it. You kept your head high as you approached him, gingerly sliding your hand into his, uncaring of the dirt and blood stained there. His head whipped around to stare at you, eyes wide and almost terrified. "It wouldn't be so bad," you hummed, looking where your hands were connected. "You're awfully nice."

He just stared at you like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The punchline. But you didn't do much more than give his hand a squeeze and motion towards the pens. "Wanna get to work?" You frowned when you noticed he hadn't moved in awhile. "Thomas?"

Gingerly, he squeezed your hand back. The look in his eyes was... dare you say, hopeful? It made your heart melt a little.

Thomas stepped towards you, gingerly bumping his forehead to the top of your head in the closest form of a kiss he could give you with the mask on. You let out a soft gasp, tightening your grip on his hand as a delighted smile grew on your face. "You really...?"

He looked embarrassed but didn't pull away like you'd expected. As always, Thomas stood steady beside you, keeping you close.

Later on, you'd learn that Thomas only accompanied you on so many of your chores simply because he wanted to. But for now, you happily walked hand in hand with him towards the pens, a happy smile on both your faces.

[circle--of--confusion]

Summary:

1980s Mall AU Copia is a manager at the alternative store "Miasma" and their rivals across the way is a custesy jewelry store named "Becky's". One afternoon, he runs into an employee who works there, Erin, who ends up wanting to talk more about their store's rivalry since she's still new to everything. They share lunch breaks and over a short time, they realize they both want to spend more time with each other. Their crushes bloom into something more, all while they keep the relationship a secret from his friends at Miasma.

AN: This has been a very fun fic to work on! I hope you enjoy my small pocket universe with these characters.

Fic Mixtape

Paring: Copia x OC [Erin]

Total Words: 54k

Tags: Explicit; AU, 1980s mall, fluff, smut, secret relationship, copia has a band, too many facts about space, more tags on AO3

Read The rest on AO3 [Chapter 1 [6.4k words] is posted below]

Masterlist

It was the sound of the metal rack clattering and the stuffed animals falling to the ground after being knocked over that drew Erin out of her people-watching trance. The soda she was sipping on was her companion as she waits for a friend by the food court.

“Shit,” the voice says, still sitting on his ass. 

She rushes over to him to see if he’s alright. “Hey! Oh my god, are you ok?” He’s an older guy dressed in jeans and a band t-shirt. He also may or may not be the guy Erin’s been crushing on from afar.

What fun serendipity.

He hums and turns his head to look at her. The dark layered, feathery hair she has is back-lit and it makes her look like an angel. His eyes go wide and he smiles. “I’m better now that you’re here

Erin tilts her head. “Uh…”

He comes-to and shakes his head. “I, ah, yes, I’m fine. I was… thinking about something and didn’t see where I was going.” He’s at least aware enough not to say it washer. Much less the way her outfit shows off her figure and her thighs. He has to stop letting that invade his mind.

The two of them finally move to stand and he awkwardly places everything back where they should belong, hoping the bodega worker glaring at him isn’t cursing his existence too intesely.

“Sorry to run but I’m late for my shift!” He points with his thumbs to the left.

She nods, gesturing to the side. “Hopefully no stupid customers for you today!”

“If only it could be that easy.” The man rolls his eyes. “I’m Copia, by the way–” a voice breaks in through his sentence and he frowns. A woman walks up towards them.

“So sorry, Copia. I’m meeting up with a friend.” Erin turns towards her and waves. “Over here!”

“Right. Guess I’ll leave you to it.” Copia starts to walk off, cursing himself for being even later. He’s one of the few keyholders at this store  and the manager and his mother is the district manager. What are they going to do? Fire him?

Actually, his mom would do that.

He can’t believe he ran into something this time! Erin popped into his radar recently as the new manager transfer to Becky’s, the cutesy jewelry store across the way. Her smile, even across the walkway caught his attention as he walked to the front to stock shirts and adjust a display.

His co-workers who are also unfortunately friends remind Copia constantly that as workers of Miasma, an alt/punk clothing and oddities shop, are sworn enemies of Becky’s. He’s honestly not interested in this years-long beef between the two stores; it began when his brother Primo was the original manager.

And he doesn’t make enough to care.

“Hey, Dew. Thanks for holding down the fort,” Copia sighs, heading back to the office to clock in and check on any stock that’s been dropped off for the week.

Dew salutes half-heartedly as he leans against the counter. “No problem, boss.”

“Oh,” Copia stops in his stride and turns to him, “Go easy on Phantom. He’s still getting the hang of things.”

He whines. “We were hazed by Primo when most of us started working here! Why should he get off without anything?”

Copia crosses his arms. “Because Primo is practically a sadist.”

◊◊◊◊

Erin had learned early on about the store that’s rivals with hers. The passionate speech of Cirrus ranting again about how anyone who works for Miasma is evil made her giggle.

Does he automatically hold a grudge against me? Erin thinks. I hope not. He seems cute to her, even as an older guy. Copia’s eyes stay on her mind. One green and one a pale white.

“Though, my baby brother works there so I can’t hate him.”

“Is working in a mall really that boring you have to invent rivalries with other stores?”

Cirrus scoffs, “This is serious. It transcends all of time and space.”

Erin tsks a laugh. “This mall has existed for only about eight years.”

“Just… whatever you do, stay away from Dewdrop.”

Erin and Cirrus hang out for a couple hours until she needs to clock into her shift and that allows Erin to stop by a store for a birthday gift. The next morning, on her way to open, she crosses paths with Copia. She flags him down, half-jogging over across the walkway. He seems surprised the closer Erin gets. It’s endearing and she smiles at the soft shock in his face.

“It’s recently come to my attention that we’re mortal enemies.”

Copia laughs to himself. “So, you’ve finally been educated, huh?”

“Mhm. I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to be talking to you.” She winks.

“I’ve heard and seen it all, trust me. It’s a whole saga. Multiple parts and everything.”

Erin perks up, using this as an opportunity. “If our lunch breaks ever coincide, you could tell me some time?”

Copia raises an eyebrow. This can’t be happening! He almost wants to pinch himself. A wide grin breaks out on his face but the sounds of Dew and Omega talking throw him off and he nods quickly. “Yes, of course! I normally go around noon and grab a slice of pizza.”

She turns to the sound, noticing his co-workers. “It’s a date. And my name is Erin, by the way. You might want to know that.” She quickly turns to walk back across the way, waving goodbye to him, laughing at the small comment that was overheard about one of his co-workers asking about Copia talking to her.

Date. The word echoes in his mind as he watches Erin, he did want to know that, unlock the gate in a slight daze.  Dew loudly asks why a Becky’s member was talking to him and Omega swats at his arm, scolding Dewdrop for being rude.

“Omega, help me confirm today’s deposit?” Copia asks as he lifts the gate.

“Sure.”

Dew looks offended, holding his hand to his chest. “Why not ask me?”

Copia sighs gravely. “You’re not allowed near large amounts of money, remember?”

He snaps his fingers and points at his manager, nodding. “Right.”

◊◊◊◊

It’s been a quiet morning, thankfully, for Erin. As she stocks charm bracelets by the front, she watches through the window to see if Copia walks near the entrance for any reason. The feud between their respective stores is ridiculous, truly, but if what Cirrus said was any accurate…

Erin shakes her head. She’ll wait to hear what Copia has to say. Which if her watch is correct, she should be able to find out in about half an hour. There’s a nervous excitement low in her belly. Erin keeps checking the time to make sure she can leave for lunch right at noon. She’s only had two half-conversations with him before he had to do something and Erin looks forward to his undivided attention.

There’s something about Copia that intrigues her. Erin wants to get to know him. Maybe kiss him at one point! Don’t sue her. There’s a feeling deep in her gut that Copia has very kissable lips.

She sets the extra stock on the counter and asks another worker to put it up for now. It’s now time for her lunch break. It’s time to hear the other side of the story.

She looks for the pizza shop, finding a decent line waiting to grab their own slices. Erin hears someone calling her name over the din of the food court and turns around to find Copia sitting at a table for two with slices and drinks already. He’s ushering her over and Erin smiles the closer she gets. Copia leans back in his seat, crossing his arms again.

“Are one of these slices for me?”

He sits up straight, quickly taking the tops off of the boxes. “Yes! I wanted to have options for you but all they had left was cheese.”

“Well!” Erin grins. “Cheese, please, then.”

“Oh, that’s good. I was hoping you weren’t going to say something like cheese louise instead.”

She snorts, “Oh, that’s awful. I love it.” Erin will admit, she can’t resist a good pun.

Copia looks down, chuckling to himself. “Thanks.”

The two smile softly at each other before tapping their slices together in a ‘cheers’ motion and eating them. Copia and Erin eat in silence, occasionally humming at the taste. They both understand: food first, talking later. The newest pop record plays as their background music.

Erin wipes her hands with her napkin as Copia sips from his soda. “So, this Epic Saga, you called it.”

“Mhm.” Copia nods.

“What’s your side of it.”

“Well,” he pauses, looking off with his mouth slightly open. Copia rolls his eyes and them closes them while shaking his head. “My pops wanted that space for the store and the Becky’s ownership came by with a better offer.”

She expects there to be more but after Copia takes another sip of soda, he leans back in his chair. “That’s it?”

“What were you expecting?”

Erin sputters, “From what Cirrus said, there’s been a lot more drama.”

He laughs, nodding. “Yeah, it was sorta exacerbated by our side first. Previous management was not, ah, pleased.” He grimaces. “Which didn’t help at all.”

“I hesitate to ask…”

“It wasn’t so bad at first, I will admit. My oldest brother was the manager and for the most part things ran smoothly.” Copia winces. “That is until one morning he’d yelled across the way that he’d sacrifice one of the employees to Satan if they stepped foot in our store again.”

Erin gapes, her mouth opens in shock. “What…” she hums. “He said again. What happened the first time?”

“From what I remember Secondo telling me, my other brother, the Becky’s girl messed up some display.”

“That’s it?”

Copia watches the journey she takes, letting the information sink in. She looks at him then off to the side to scoff in different ways before repeating the motions few more times.

“Then, to get back at us, Cirrus somehow snuck in and replaced all of our studs and piercing options with Yours. Alpha felt scandalized when he noticed the bright stars and rainbows. It was the shriek that was heard around the mall.”

She giggles, “Oh, poor thing.”

That small sound of her giggle makes him feel warm and fuzzy. He finds wants to hear it all the time now. “And then Dew set something on fire.”

“Shit.” Her face sobers.

“That earned a visit to the security office. Dew and Cirrus refused to apologize and it took a large, generous donation to the mall from both store owners to have this whole incident go away.” Copia waves his hand like a magician.

She tilts her head. “It was that easy? I assumed there’d be harsher consequences for setting a fire indoors.”

“The guy who owns this mall is good friends with my parents,” Copia says.

Erin narrows her eyes. “When why didn’t he let you have the spot you wanted in the first place?”

“He’s good friends, not best friends.”

◊◊◊◊

Over the following two days, their lunch breaks managed to line up again. It’s a comforting routine Copia and Erin quickly fell into. Both of them wanted to talk more and more but were limited within the hour window that was allowed. Mostly they discussed about their day, regaling each other with the odd customer that comes in.

“And so, I had to tell the guy, we don’t do piercings, we just sell stuff you can buy to take to a shop.” Copia’s waving his hands in the air. “But he was adamant. He claims a friend had came to this shop a few months ago, paid five bucks, and bam! New piercing.”

Erin dips a fry into ketchup and looks up at him, tilting her head. “What a fascinating mystery.”

Copia takes a bite of his burger and chews for a bit. “Yeah, well, I ended up solving the mystery very quickly.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat here, Copia.” She smiles.

He pauses, taking a second to look at her. He wonders if making himself look like a fool a few days ago was the best decision of his life. Because right now he has his crush - which he feels very weird to say as a man in his early fifties - waiting with bated breath to find out which of his stupid co-worker friends gave a back-alley piercing. Her brown eyes stare back, wide and eager.

“Where was I?” Copia huffs out a nervous laugh.

Erin shakes her head. His eyes glazed over when he stared at her. “The mystery body modifier.”

Copia nods. “Yes! It was Swiss in the end.”

“Oh! Well, he does have a lot of ah,” she hums, waving her hands in front of her face, “that.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. I’m not sure why I even needed to ask. I told him not to do it again but when he said he had a few more appointments from other customers I said not to do it on mall property.”

“Copia!” Erin scolds.

“What? It’s a semi-lucrative side job.” He shrugs. “How can I deny the man his extra money?”

She leans back, thinking it over. “As long as it isn’t on the property, yeah, I don’t think there’s a problem with that.”

“At last! She sees reason.” Copia smirks.

Erin scoffs, “Oh, fuck off!” She throws her napkin at him.

“But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the last seven minutes of my time with you.”

“Is it almost over already?” She frowns and turns around to look at the large clock in the food court. “Damn.”

They both part for their jobs, Erin leaving first this time so they’re not seen together. The next day, she had a later shift and couldn’t go to lunch when Copia did. They would send over a small wave if the timing was right.

As her nightly routine ends a couple days later, the front gate is dropped and locked. Erin looks over, finding Copia straightening up t-shirts by the front.

She softly knocks on the side of the entrance and it brings him out of his stupor. “Hey,” Erin softly says, waving at him.

“Oh, hey!” He stands up straighter. “Are you done for the night?”

She nods, humming a yes. “Do I have permission to cross the threshold or am I in danger of being sacrificed in the name of Satan?”

“Primo can barely walk at this point so I’d say you’re fine.” Copia waves her in. “He’s all you’d ever have to worry about.”

He asks if she’s ok being locked in. They can walk out through the back door, it’s what he normally does. Erin nods and swoons playfully, moving to grab his arm to blink up at him lovingly, earning a soft laugh from him when Copia says he’d walk her to her car just in case. As she wanders around the store, looking at the t-shirts and belts, jacket stud packs and chains, Copia watches with a soft fondness.

She eyes a rack of rings and earrings, looking through the options.

“So, which one are you? Punk or metal?” she asks, turning to him.

Copia tilts his head to the side a few times side to side as he thinks it over. “A mix of both but more metal.”

“You don’t dress particularly punk-ish.”

He laughs, coming closer. “I mean. Punk is more of an attitude than a specific look. Though, a badass leather jacket never hurts. Punk is a state of mind, Erin.” Copia smiles, setting a hand down next to Erin as she leans against the counter. He’s in her space and she smells like vanilla and sweet strawberries.

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“It’s become annoyingly trendy to some people who just want to be assholes.” He bends over against the counter, leaning down to rest his elbows in the surface, turning his head to Erin. “Come into this store and you can buy all of the parts to become another unique copy.”

“You sound so happy.” She bends down to lean the same way against the counter like Copia.

He shrugs his shoulder. “The store makes money so I guess I can’t complain too much.” Copia grins, a twinkle sparkling in his eye. “The views from here aren’t too bad either.”

Erin blushes, looking away and down to the table.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“I want to give you something.”

The two huff out a laugh and stand back up. Erin goes to grab something from her pocket. “You first.”

Copia nods. “Well, I, uh.” He scratches behind his neck awkwardly. “There’s a local drive-in doing a Star Wars marathon on Saturday.” Copia points his finger at her before pointing back to himself. He avoids her eyes as he asks, “If you’re free, would you want to go? With me?”

Erin tries to hide a massive smile that’s threatening to break free. “Oh, I don’t know.” His eyes lock into hers and she giggles. “Do you really want to spend that much time around me?”

“I’d like to spend way more time than that around you, actually.” Copia looks to her with pleading eyes.

“Me too.” She takes his hand and places a small piece of paper in it. “And if we’re not around in person at the same time, I want you to be able to call me so we can still talk.” Erin closes his hand over her number and looks back up to his face.

He could kiss her! Though, he thinks, maybe it’s too soon. Instead, he nods rapidly, almost to the point of giving himself a concussion. He needs to give Erin his number in return!

“One second!” He holds up a finger and rushes to the checkout counter, furiously rustling around for a working pen and a roll of receipt paper. Successfully he’s able to find what he needs and scribbles as clearly as he can where she can call him. “Here’s my number, too.”

“Thank you.” Erin looks at the scrawl, squinting. “Is that a nine or a four?”

Copia leans in. “Ah! It’s a four.”

“Got it,” she hums a laugh. “Are you almost done here? I would really like to get home.”

He breathes in quickly, looking around the store and nods. “Yes. I’m done with that I need to do.” Copia holds out his arm for her. “Shall we walk to our cars now?”

Erin loops hers around his, leaning in. “We shall.”

Copia shows her through the back to the door that leads out to the back parking lot. Their cars aren’t too far apart and he’s soon closing her door as Erin gets in, turning on the engine. She rolls down her window and leans forward to mention he needs her address. Erin leans over, grabbing a scrap of paper from her glove box and a pen. It’s not too far from him, they live in the same city thankfully. He taps the roof of her car and says goodbye but stands still for a moment, looking at her while she looks up at him.

She gently reminds him he needs to get home too and he shakes his head, finally turning to walk to his car. She yells goodnight to him and he waves his hand to her without looking back.

She doesn’t work the next day so she takes the time to run an errand for her roommate, Jessica, who works a full-time 9-5. They’re old friends and Jessica let Erin stay with her when her old job hit a dead end. The Becky’s job isn’t her life’s calling but it’s steady work and she’s grateful to Jessica for having a place to stay.

Copia never called her over the two days that had passed since Erin gave him her number. It was on a Wednesday and now, on this busier than normal Friday, her mind wanders to that sweet smile and why it’s not dialing her number. She counts through inventory in the back and sighs. He’s not working today; apparently the other keyholder, Mountain, is in the manager’s office. Her lunch break feels lifeless and she’s eating silently by herself.

She’s expecting Copia to pick her up around 4pm for the movie. The entire night should be around six and a half hours including breaks between the movies for viewers to use the bathroom or get more snacks. There’s a flutter in her stomach as she thinks about what they might talk about for such a long time. Erin feels very eager to have Copia all to herself for the evening. She’s not sure about the weather tonight so she plans to wear a sweater with jeans.

A knock on the door alerts her of Copia’s arrival. Her roommate yells out from her room “Make good choices!”

Erin snickers and opens the door. The absolutely scrumptious sight that greets her stops Erin in her tracks. Standing before her is Copia, sure, but he looks different. Its almost too much.

Copia chose to wear jeans so tight you’d think he had to be poured into the denim the way it hugs around his thighs. He’s got a simple band tee on and over it, the pièce de resistance, is a studded and decorated leather jacket. It looks like it’s been a labor of love to place patches and pins upon it over the years.

He looks comfortable like this, looks confident.

She bites her lip and drinks in the sight. Copia stands in front of her for what feels like an eternity while she ogles his body. He clears his throat, calling her name.

“Uh, Earth to Erin?” He smirks.

There’s a distant hum before she remembers where she is. “Oh! Hi!”

“Hello.” Copia puts his hands into his jacket pockets. He admires the sweater Erin chose. She looks cuddly and he wants to reach forward, to grab her into his arms and hug her softness. “Ready to head out? It should take half an hour to get to the drive-in.” He points back to the truck he arrived in.

Erin nods. “Yes! I’m ready.”

They pile into the truck and he begins their journey. It’s an older model and the suspensions show it. They drive over every bump and the entire thing creaks and jumps as it goes over. Copia winces a couple times, quickly looking to her to see how she’s doing.

“It’s my dad’s,” Copia explains. “He said I could borrow it on the grounds I don’t come back a father.”

Erin chokes on her breath. “Oh!”

As they pull into the entrance, he leans over to pay admission and drives around to a free spot. Cars have already arrived and a handful more trickle in as the show time grows closer. They both hop out of the truck, stretching. Copia asks for her to wait there and not watch him. He wanted to get something prepared first.

He mumbles to himself for a few minutes and the truck creaks every so often. After around five minutes he says Erin can come around to him. She stands next to Copia and he gestures to the bed with a “ta-da!” He’s created an arrangement of blankets and pillows so they can lie down to watch the movie in comfort.

She hugs him from the side, moving her head to look up at his soft smile. “It’s lovely, Copia. You’re wonderful for doing this.” She thinks she could kiss him.

He waves a hand saying its no big deal and soon she’s scrambling up to get comfortable. He points over to the concessions. “I’ll go get the first round of snacks?”

Erin nods and gives him her requests. When he comes back, his arms are overflowing with different food items and she crawls to the end to help relieve his burden. “I’m impressed you didn’t drop anything!”

“I would’ve been devastated if the drinks had fallen.” He hands her a blue cup with a lid and a straw. He gets up into the bed and settles. “The cups were themed tonight. Blue and red. I’m the evil empire, red obviously, and you’re the resistance, blue.”

Erin laughs, “Is this because of the store feud?”

“Maybe…” Copia looks off to the side as he sips.

She hums a laugh and nudges him with her elbow with a giggle, “You’re too cute.”

Copia blushes. The last few cars drive up to their spots and the two eat in silence observing the other attendees. He bought one large popcorn to share and their hands touch over the bucket causing Copia to let out a surprised noise. Erin looks over at him.

“Have you seen the movies?” Copia asks.

She nods. “I think I saw them so many times the movie theater workers knew me by my first name.”

“Wow!” He’s stunned. Copia looks forward and makes a funny face.

“One joked that all of the money I spent was probably a quarter of their paycheck that month,” Erin laughs. “I love anything space.” She leans towards him. “It’s the final frontier after all.”

Copia nods. “Ahh. Star Track.”

“Trek.”

“Right.”

There’s an announcement over the speakers that the movie is about to begin. Erin and Copia wiggle in their spots, excited to be taken into another world. He holds up his cup of soda to her and she raises it to knock against his. They both say “cheers!”

The production logos appear and a small cheer rings out from the cars. Soon the iconic opening credits play through the speakers and the crawling text, well, crawls. Copia notices a faint humming and he looks over to see Erin bopping her head as she hums the theme music. He’s grinning and his chest feels full. Copia’s so happy to have Erin here with him because otherwise he would’ve come alone. Sometimes he’ll watch her instead of the movie and occasionally she’d quote a certain part of the movie with 100% accuracy.

When she began to know the lines of different characters in a scene, that’s when he raised a silent eyebrow and turned back forward. Erin managed to catch all of the parts Copia wasn’t looking at her so she could look at him.

She hasn’t had an opportunity to look at his outfit again. Its almost like looking at the sun; she doesn’t want to look for too long. The tight jeans concern her slightly, however, and she hopes he isn’t too uncomfortable.

After the credits roll for the first movie, Copia turns to face her a bit more. “Which one is your favorite character?”

“Leia, obviously. I think I went as her for Halloween three years in a row.”

“Its hard not to love her,” Copia says. “My favorite was always Han.”

Erin giggles. “Of course you’d say that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His eyes and mouth open wide in mock shock and he puts a hand to his chest.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “The snarky quips. The signature jacket.” Erin gestures up and down his body. “And your friends across the way at work always seem to be screeching like Chewey.”

Copia laughs so hard his head falls back and Erin feels like she’s floating upon hearing him so happy. She’s doing that to him! It dawns on her that nearly a week ago they’d never spoken and now she’s on a date with him. It all feels like too much!

“Hey, I need to use the restroom. Hopefully it’s not too crowded; I want to be back in time for The Empire Strikes Back.” Erin moves to the end of the truck bed and jumps off. “Be back soon!” She gives him a thumbs up.

As she walks to the bathroom, her cheeks feel flushed. Erin’s hands rise to touch her cheeks, no doubt feeling warm and if she looked in the mirror, her face is probably red too. Erin’s been here barely two hours, how is she going to stay focused! His hand fell between the two of them as he set it down onto the blanket and her fingers twitched.

Copia lays back into the pillows as he waits for Erin to get back. There’s about five minutes until the next movie and he hasn’t seen her light purple sweater anywhere. He regrets his choice in jeans tonight.

The snug pants he chose are one of the more worn-in pairs he has but normally they’re for standing and playing at a show. He’s never had to sit for several hours in them. At least she seemed to like it. She looked like she liked it a lot.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Erin is yelling as she gets closer. “I wanted to get some more popcorn and stuff while I was up.” She hands Copia a new soda and the new bucket.

“You’re amazing, Erin. Thank you.”

She leans side to side as she crawls back to her spot. “I try.” Erin makes a satisfied groan when she gets comfortable again, leaning back into the pillows and Copia grabs another blanket.

“The sun’s coming down. Want to share a blanket?” He doesn’t want her being too cold. He needs her to feel good. She nods and he drapes the fabric over their legs. She quietly thanks him as the next movie begins.

Erin seems tense around him. He can’t focus on the first bit of the movie as he wonders what happened. As he moves his hand closest to her to sit under the blanket, she jumps slightly. When Copia looks down, there’s a small lump that appears to be moving.

Its moving to where his hand rests on his thigh!

He feels the sudden touch of Erin’s fingers sliding into his palm and they both softly gasp. Her hand freezes and almost starts to retreat but he closes his hand around what he can. Erin’s hand stops and when Copia opens up, she’s back to slowly moving forward again. Once she’s hovering her hand over his, their fingers instinctually lace together.

Erin sighs and Copia feels her body relax. They are slowly inching closer to each other as the two share the fluffy blanket and about halfway through the movie, she’s pulling it further up her body, shivering slightly.

Copia leans down by her ear. “Cold?”

She startles and turns to him, nodding. “A bit, yeah.”

“Here.” He removes his hand from hers and Erin frowns slightly. Copia stretches his arm around behind her and gestures for her to slide in under his jacket. “It’s warmer here.”

Erin slowly leans into his side, tentatively placing a hand on his chest as she practically cuddles him. She breathes in deep and a waft of his cologne floats into her senses. He smells spicy and woody and it’s not too strong; he knew just the right amount to put on so it would settle on him throughout the day as a comforting scent.

She hums, looking up to him. “You smell nice.”

Copia smiles softly. “Are you comfortable?”

“I am.” Erin rubs lightly at his shirt, whispering. “Your t-shirt is really soft. It’s perfect to rest on.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Copia whispers back.

Neither of them have returned their attention to the movie screen. His focus is trained to her lips and Erin watches as he stares down at her, eyes set low on her face. She quirks up one side of her lips and Copia’s tongue pokes out to wet his in anticipation of what he wants to say next.

“Erin…” he whispers so low she barely hears it.

“Yes?”

It feels as if he’s holding his breath. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Yes, you can kiss meoh!” Erin gasps, surprised at how quickly he leans down.

It’s slow at first; they’re both getting a grasp on what’s going on. She lets him take the lead as he moves his lips over hers delicately. His other hand comes up to hold her in place as he caresses her jaw. They pull away and smile briefly before falling back together for another kiss. Erin’s more involved this time as she slowly moves further up his body when he slides down further onto his back.

Copia holds her to him as they try to stay as quiet as they can, muting happy moans of delight. Erin pokes her tongue over and he raises an eyebrow, humming a surprised sound while they keep their eyes closed. They’ve very quickly descended into French kissing and Copia thinks he can’t get enough of her as they lick softly into each other. His arm around her slides down her back to keep Erin close on him.

When their kiss ends for them to part for air they’re both feeling like they’re on cloud nine.

“Mhm. Just as I suspected.” Copia gazes dreamily towards her.

Erin tilts her head. “What?”

“Your lips are just as soft as I imagined.”

She blushes and hides her face from him as she snorts out a quiet laugh. Erin presses a small kiss to his lips but it’s quick and Copia didn’t have time to deepen it again. “Yours aren’t too bad either.”

She was right. They’re very kissable.

Erin lowers to lie back on his chest within his jacket. She feels incredibly relaxed now and snuggles up to him, placing her arm around his waist. Between the blanket keeping her warm, the soothing scent of Copia’s cologne, and the soft way he’s begun to card his fingers through her hair, Erin easily closes her eyes and falls asleep. The last thing she remembers is Copia pressing a small kiss to the top of her head as Leia is confessing to Han Solo that she loves him to which he responds “I know” before being frozen in carbonite.

A gentle nudging from Copia rouses her from her nap. She’s groaning slightly as she tries to wake up.

“We gotta get up, baby. The movies are over.” Copia definitely noticed her small smile at baby.

Erin yawns, “I slept through Return of the Jedi?”

He takes her cheek into his palm and rubs his thumb softly over her skin there. “You looked too comfortable like this I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You just didn’t want me off of you, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything because she’s right. She looked so perfect curled up on his chest and at one point she moved to get more comfortable and wrapped her arms tighter around him. The soft nuzzle of her nose on his chest in her sleep made nearly made him whimper.

The two crawl out with their uneaten snacks and throw away anything they can’t take back. She gets to come home with a bag of M&Ms and is very happy about it. Copia balls up everything into one blanket and throws it into the back seat to be dealt with when he returns the truck.

He drives her back home and they sit in a tired silence. Erin looks over at him and he’s tapping his thumbs to the steering wheel. There’s a soft smile on his face and at a light, he turns to check on her. They both share a surprised face, both finding caught by the other.

Copia pulls into her driveway slowly and the truck creaks to a stop. Erin unbuckles and she’s hearing the sound of his door closing as she rounds the front, stopping to look back.

“I want to walk you to your door.” He gestures up to it.

She looks at him with a fondness she wasn’t expecting. “You’re such a gentleman. I’d like that.” Erin takes his hand and they walk the short trek up to her front step.

“I’ll call you later?” Copia doesn’t want to leave just yet. He doesn’t want to let go of her hand.

“I have work tomorrow but I’m free in the evening.” She rubs her thumb over the back of his hand.

He looks down between them and nods. They’re both slowly leaning towards each other; Erin looks at his lips and Copia is watching her as she bites her own in anticipation. He wraps his free arm around her waist and pulls her into him to press one last kiss of the night to her lips. He holds her firmly to him when his other hand removes itself from her grasp to snake around the other half of her waist. They’re sharing soft moans with each other as the kiss progresses from chaste to something more.

Erin’s hands rest on his chest and she could swear she feels his heart beat just a bit faster.

They pull back eventually and smile. Erin leans back in for one quick peck to his cheek and Copia is blushing again for what feels like the millionth time tonight.

“That was for tonight,” Erin whispers. “Everything was lovely.”

“I’m happy you came with me.”

She nods and her hands slide down from his chest and Copia removes his arms from around her. Erin begins to unlock the door, stopping with her hand on the doorknob. She looks back one more time and yanks Copia forward by the collar of his shirt quickly for a kiss to his lips. “That one however was for me.”

Erin walks inside then, leaving Copia in a daze. He blinks a few times and grins. On the other side of the door, she’s leaning back against it as she’s lightly touching the apples of her cheeks with her fingertips as she smiles wide, feeling the warmth from them. She knows she’s blushing but doesn’t think it’ll go away any time soon.

Jessica walks out from her room with an empty glass to refill. She finds Erin in her own world still by the door and chuckles. “Did you have a good night?” Her small nod is all she needs to know.

When Copia gets the truck back at his parent’s house, his old man Nihil sits outside on the front porch.

“Pretty late to still be up, dad.” Copia drops off the keys into his hand. “It’s also cold.”

Nihil waves him off. “The cold keeps me awake.” He fiddles with the keys in his hand. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Yes.”

“No hanky-panky?”

“Dad.”

Nihil grunts and points at Copia. “You made me a promise. I’m not driving a truck that has my son’s sex cooties on it.”

“And I kept that promise,” he scoffs. “And now I’m going home, weirdo.”

“G’night, son!” He waves. “I’ll tell your mother you said hi.”

Copia’s at his car when he waves goodnight back. Soon he’s driving along back to his apartment so he can hopefully fall asleep immediately. He has to count inventory by hand over the next few days and it’s exhausting. If he’s not focused, he could miss a number somewhere.

Until then, Copia has the reminder of his evening with Erin to keep his spirits up. He hopes if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to have a few more sweet kisses from her after tonight.

The rest is on AO3 for registered users. If you liked this, please click the link above to read the rest! Thank you!

[dsireland86]

Ooh i would love to request a fic inspired by the song Pillowtalk by Zayn Malik? It can be for whoever you think fits best x fem reader?

I just have to confess how much I love this song 😍

PillowTalk

Tag list:

@philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @kenjipepsi1 @blackveilomens @chey-h @disappearintothegrey @jilliemiw86 @pathion @fear-its-beauty @an0mallly @potterheadquinn @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @montgomery-929494 @missduffsblog @lilcazy011 @Lonelydragonlady @Mattysbitchvic @athenexe @pipidol @flowery-mess 

I was never a one for talking after sex. It just wasn't my thing. Well, with my ex any way. With him, it was a give it, get it, and be done with it type of relationship. We were never mean about it. It's just that there wasn't much to say afterward. I guess that's why things didn't last between us. 

With Matt, things were instantly different. The moment we met, I felt connected to him. From our love of plants and animals to music and movies, our interests were the same. We both had a few things here and there that were different, but nothing that the other couldn't or wouldn't tolerate. It was almost perfect, and I say almost, because there was one flaw we both had that could burn everything to the ground if we allowed it to. Our tempers. Both of us could be stubborn, arrogant, prideful assholes to each other when we wanted to be which was never a good thing, especially on tour. But we managed it and never allowed it to go too far. Until today. I think I may have crossed the line, and now Matt won't talk to me or even look at me.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the back door to the venue open and carry the case with the smaller soundboard up to the front-of-house area where Matt is sprawled out under a table hooking up wires. As he goes to sit up, he slams his head into the bottom of it, letting out a mouthful of curses followed by a few growls and grunts as he stands up.

"Shit, babe, are you okay?"

Matt glares at me. 

"As if you care?" he snaps, taking his hat off to rub the spot and fix his hair. 

Ouch. 

"Oookay... yeah, I care, or I wouldn't have asked," I snap back a little harder than I mean to. 

Matt scoffs. 

"Whatever, Y/N. Is that the soundboard I asked for?" he asks, pointing to the case in my hand. 

The saltiness in his tone stings, but I tell myself I deserve it for how I treated him earlier this morning. I swallow the lump in my throat and fight the tears that are trying to form. I clear my throat and hand over the case. 

"Uh, yeah. Here ya go."

Matt takes the case without a glance at me. I stand there frozen, unsure of what to do next. 

"So, is this how it's going to be today?" I ask, trying to avoid the crack in my voice. 

Matt shrugs. 

"I'm sorry," I apologize as meaningfully as I can.   "I still love you, I still love us. I didn't mean..."

"Save the pillowtalk, Y/N," he snaps again. 

"I've got a lot of shit to do. If you want to help, fine. If not, that's fine, too. Just," but he doesn't finish, and honestly, he doesn't have to. I already know what he wants to say. 

"Fine." 

I turn and walk away, unable to process any thoughts properly. 

Soundcheck sounds great. The guys have pulled it all together once again, almost flawlessly. Noah's voice is a little raspy due to allergies, but it's nothing that's detrimental to his performance. I yell up at him that I'll get some tea ready for him in the green room and to come get it when he can. He gives me that beautiful smile of his, and it makes me happy to know I can make others feel better. If only I could make myself feel better.

I catch Matt's stare as I walk by him. It's heavy as if he's holding something back. Probably his anger. I break eye contact and head to the green room to prepare Noah's tea like promised, taking the coffee pot to the bathroom to fill it with water from the sink. As I turn the water off, I look up into the mirror and catch a glimpse of Matt standing in the doorway. I almost scream and just about drop the pot of water from being so startled.  

"Holy shit, you scared the living crap out of me," I cry, bringing my hand to my chest. 

Matt grins and steps further into the bathroom and closer to me. His hand snakes around my neck as he pulls me into him, bringing our bodies closer together.

"Matt, I don't understand. I thought you were mad at me,” I say, shaking my head lightly while gazing at his face. 

"I don't, either. Just shut-up and fucking kiss me," he orders, slamming his lips into mine.

I make a noise in the back of my throat that has him groaning as our mouths come together and our tongues begin to dance. I love the feeling of Matt's when he rolls his tip over mine and then messages the top so sweetly in a way that only he can. I manage to sit the pot in the sink before dropping it and risk it breaking, throwing my arms around Matt's neck as I do. Our breaths mingle, our hearts beat together, and before either of us know what's happening, Matt has my pants off with his shorts down around his ankles, and he's buried himself deep inside me, apologizing the best way he knows how. I can barely contain myself. His lovin' is so good, so fire, so soothing that I'd give anything to keep him inside me all day. 

"Hold me hard, baby," Matt whispers, panting as he places a kiss on my forehead.  

Lifting my leg up, Matt latches onto it and brings it up around his hip, matching it with the other one until my legs are wrapped tightly around his waist and I'm pinned snuggly between him and the bathroom wall. 

"Ugh, fuck yeah, that feels better. Much better angle," grunting in pleasure and kissing me desperately.  

"Why am I always your worst enemy? Why do we fight like we do?" I asked breathlessly, throwing my head back against the wall. 

Matt groans after I moan a little too loud once he finds the right spot inside me. 

"It's a thick line, Y/N. Our love has always been a sort of battlefield, a war zone even. But we're still on the same side." 

I dig my nails into his shoulders when he lifts my shirt and pulls the pad of my bra down to take my nipple into his mouth, nipping the tip and making me cry out as the feeling hits the right spot in my core. 

"We're still allies, baby, even if we're dirty and it's raw. You and I, we fuck like winners and we love like conquers, no matter how bad we fight. I still love you, too."

Matt wipes the tears away that fall from my eyes, and I pull him back onto me, holding onto him tightly as we both finish together. 

The bus rocks everyone to sleep, and by halfway through the drive, everyone is sound asleep except me and Matt. We went high and hard in the green room earlier in the day, but now the tempo is slow, dark, and mellow. There's no rush. There's no desperate hunger or need. Just the place that feels my tears and where Matt loses his fears. It's a place, like he said earlier, is dirty and raw, yet pure at the same time. It's our paradise, our war zone. It's our love. 

I lay pressed against Matt's chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart. It's magical and soothing, nobody but us, our bodies pressed together.  

"I love holding you close like this," Matt says softly, the deep rumbling of his voice vibrating from somewhere inside him. "Thanks for letting me tonight, for always letting me hold you close."

His sweet vulnerability is showing, which is something he only allows me to see. I feel horrible for making him feel the way I did earlier, especially when I know how much of himself he trusts me with. Wiggling out of his grasp and shifting as best as I can, within the confines of the small bottom bunk, I manage to climb on top of him and get him between my legs once again. I can't see his face in the darkness, but I can feel him, and that's all I need.

"I love waking up next to you," I admit, leaning over and kissing down his neck. 

His warm hands slither over the skin of my bottom and up my back, gently grabbing my sides and hips. 

“I love the way you feel inside me, the way you always claim me as yours." 

"Oh my god," Matt groans sensually as I slip myself over him like a perfect glove and very slowly ride him. "I fucked with your head earlier. I shouldn't have. I'm sorry," I apologize, laying my chest against his and kissing him. His hands press on my bottom, keeping the slow, steady pace of us moving together. 

"I lost my temper with you. I shouldn't have," he manages to say, rocking his hips with mine. 

"I saw the pain in your eyes, knowing I was the one responsible for it. I didn't like how it felt." "Yeah, well, I saw the pleasure in yours when I fucked you in the bathroom earlier, so I guess we're even," he admits, running his hand over my face gently caressing it.

"I guess we're both prisoners in this then, huh?" 

"I guess so, but I'll gladly and willingly stay locked up with you." 

"Me, too." Matt kisses me, bringing his hands up and wrapping them around my face so he can kiss me harder. 

Our teeth smash together, and we're soon out of breath. He groans, dragging his nails down my back and over my bottom, pushing on it so that my sex can clench around him tighter. When I do, I hear his faint whisper of admittance, then feel the warmth of his seed fill me completely with some of it leaking out against my thighs. He lays back against the pillows, breathing hard, as I can only stay on top of him and lay my head down on his chest and fall asleep to the sound of his pounding heart.