#started this the same day i got the news that my friend became a grandma & i was having Feelings about babies <3

[hecatesbroom]

Another fic?? You bet! I almost finished this about 4 weeks ago, when I got sidetracked by the Dorothy gets dipped fic, so I finally managed to add the finishing touches here :) it's been in the works for about 3 months (off and on; many different projects got in the way) so I'm happy to finally be able to say it's done! (after that final edit at 3 am I posted about last night lol)

Summary

When Blanche announces that she thinks she's pregnant, each of the girls deals with it in her own way. (They find each other in Rose's bedroom in the end, for one reason or another.) // an exploration of S02E01: end of the curse, and what happens in between

[d1stalker]

This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that. 

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long. 

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go. 

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed. 

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can. 

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair. 

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug. 

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window. 

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been. 

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here. 

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others. 

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off. 

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker.  “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that. 

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it. 

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent. 

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off. 

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges. 

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse. 

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug. 

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand. 

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan. 

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this. 

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen. 

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. You feel a tad bit awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance. 

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact. 

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take. 

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out. 

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city. 

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace. 

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life. 

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere. 

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass. 

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined. 

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby. 

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction. 

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone. 

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses. 

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away. 

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in. 

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last. 

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you. 

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent. 

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface. 

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket. 

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze. 

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time. 

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night. 

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you. 

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield. 

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster. 

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer. 

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible. 

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before. 

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced. 

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual. 

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface. 

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement. 

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring. 

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk. 

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool. 

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it. 

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink. 

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them. 

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?” 

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day. 

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions. 

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you. 

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen. 

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon. 

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together. 

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen. 

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat. 

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm. 

There’s a pause. 

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing. 

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible. 

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration. 

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils. 

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think.  “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state. 

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves. 

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you. 

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again. 

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core. 

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside. 

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him. 

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat. 

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely. 

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat. 

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there. 

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way. 

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity. 

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss. 

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began. 

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs. 

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week. 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder. 

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger. 

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it). 

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town. 

You have half a mind to join them. 

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment. 

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft,  breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you. 

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon. 

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows. 

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you. 

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before. 

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before. 

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together. 

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you. 

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets. 

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad. 

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you. 

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment. 

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words. 

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time. 

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car. 

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind. 

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there. 

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way. 

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away. 

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go. 

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more. 

So, you make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city. 

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops. 

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago. 

----

[eamour]

hey queen I wanted to share my huge life success story !! and I hope I can motivate others 222

before manifestation

I used to be really insecure abt everything, my mum wasn’t in my life anymore because she lost custody of me n my brothers when we were young, I always hated how I looked, how tall I was, how damaged my hair was, how skinny I was and when my grandma forced me to shave my head life became worse (my hair grew back now tho lol) my dad worked 2 jobs to keep us stable but he did do everything in his power to make us happy like putting me n my older brother in a good private school so we can get good studies even so I had really bad grades & my friend group would always skip classes which encouraged me 2 do the same (ofc it isn’t their fault) I knew abt subliminals n manifestation then but I didn’t really know how to act on it.

after manifestation

after I started believing n myself n one day I said “yk what todays the day where I change and ik I can have a better life and I have the power to do it.” so I started journaling, Pilates, listening 2 subs & manifesting. a month later my life has completely changed !! I grew out my hair 2 my lower back it’s super long and my curls are actually healthy, I grew out my lashes a lot, I used to be 5’9 and now I’m 5’7, my skin is clearer & a lot glowy, my friends always compliment on how good I smell even when I don’t put in perfume 🫠 I don’t sweat as much as I used 2, my teeth are straighter i physically cant grow hair on my body anymore (ik random) & I have my desired body. my dad is currently building a double story house AND I HAVE MY OWN BATHROOM 🤭🤭 it kinda gives tsitp house n it’s in a rich neighbourhood. my dad got a new job he only works 1 now and the job pays him a lot of money, I have so many makeup products, perfumes & clothes my amazing step mom is moving in with us when the house is built, i got a cat, a new car and this new guy who came this term asked me out on a date, i said maybe cus my dad would NEVER let me go on a date but I’ll try forcing it ofc

ty for reading and please please PLEASE never give up because if I did give up i wouldn’t be living the life I’m living right now ily mwah mwah

hey!! ♡

again a fucking incredible success story… your circumstances used to be so challenging, i respect you a lot for still making it through 💗

congratulations love, sending hugs your way rn! 🫶

[thistledropkick]

I translated the first ever interview with Young Lion Mikami Kyosuke, published on New Japan’s website, from March 8, 2010.

Hit by Hansen’s bull rope and awakened to pro wrestling! A quick interview with anticipated newcomer Mikami Kyosuke

The Act Tower Tournament was held in Hamamatsu on March 7th. There, a newcomer made his long anticipated debut against Taguchi Ryusuke.

His name is Mikami Kyosuke. Influenced by pro wrestling since childhood, he joined the prestigious Senshu University’s wrestling club in order to become a professional wrestler. We managed to catch Mikami for an interview before his match! In this first-ever interview, we talked to him about his current state of mind, his passion, and information about himself.

- Your debut match was decided rather abruptly, wasn’t it?

M: Yes. I was told five days ago. And I’m still about to b*rf (from stress.) I thought “Well, I’m debuting after Fale” (laughs) (Fale Simi Taitoko = a trainee from the same class / debuted in April)

- Mikami, please tell us about your background.

M: I did judo and amateur wrestling, and then entered Senshu University on a wrestling sports recommendation from Nigata prefecture’s Maki Agricultural High school (now Maki Sougou High School)

- That’s a famous college with a prestigious connection to pro wrestling, right?

M: Our coach was Hase Hiroshi (ex pro wrestler, current Lower House member) and Nakanishi (Manabu) would watch over our training sessions as well. Hirasawa (Mitsuhide) was a third year student there when I was a first year. But, I dropped out……

- Excuse me for asking, but why did you drop out?

M: Because I didn’t go to class. I was an economics major but I don’t have any interest in economics (laughs). I originally wanted to do pro wrestling, which is why I originally started amateur wrestling in the first place.

- So, after that?

M: I tried to enroll with New Japan Pro Wrestling, but my application didn’t make it past the initial screening. My dad scolded me, saying “What’re you gonna do about your student debt, you bastard!” and I thought “This is really bad” as I moved back to my hometown. 

I owe my dad a large amount of money to pay off my student loan. So after that, I worked construction for about a year, and then for about four years I was a freeter working at restaurants, at a beach resort, a pachinko parlor, and so on. But then in May of 2009, the (New Japan Pro Wrestling dojo) admission test rules changed, and the height restriction was removed. Hirasawa said “Hey, what’re you gonna do? You gonna go for it?” and I submitted the application one more time.

- And in June 23rd of 2009, you became a student. Were you always a pro wrestling fan?

M: Yeah. Due to my dad’s influence, I always was. When I was still in preschool, I got hit by Stan Hansen’s bull rope at an All Japan show, and my pro wrestling awakening began. All Japan, New Japan, FMW, I loved ‘em all.

- Did you tell anyone about your debut?

M: My parents and my local friends. And later I told my friends on GREE [Note from me: GREE is a gaming social media ap, so this is kind of like telling your Steam friends or something] I told them, "I'm gonna be in a match." The reactions from everyone were pretty intense. Because I hadn't told anyone I was a trainee at New Japan. I only told everyone once the company officially announced it and posted my name on the website. As you might expect, my mother is worried about me. But my grandma, who loves pro wrestling, said “YEAH, GO GET EM!” (laughs)

- What is your special move?

M: I’m just debuting right now, I don’t have a special move yet (laughs) But, since I’ve been doing amateur wrestling for so long, I think I’ll concentrate on a single leg, double leg, and tackle.

- And your “sales point” is?

M: I’ve got a stocky body type, but I’m going for “chubby yet agile.”

- And your rivals are?

M: Right now, the students in the dojo are Fale and Takahashi, and classmates are perfect as rivals. And of course I’m aware of Hirasawa as well.

- What kind of wrestler do you want to be?

M: Most of all, I want to be someone that everyone wants to cheer for. Basically, it’s stupid, but I love attention (laughs) I want to be the kind of pro wrestler that makes the fans yell “DO YOUR BEST!”

- The opponent you want to fight is?

M: There are too many to even name.

- Finally, express your enthusiasm to us in one sentence.

M: Anyway, pleased to meet you all and thank you for your support, I’ll keep working hard and doing my best. Taguchi is IWGP Jr Tag Champion so, having a person like that as my debut opponent is an incredible honor. Anyway, I plan to use the things that he has taught me. Pleased to meet you all, thank you for your support.

[peonierose]

Luna Valeria Auclair (OC)

A/N: I wanted to re-introduce my OC Luna. I’ve been thinking long and hard and just wanted to share some more things about my OC. I decided I will not be using a fc for the foreseeable future 🥰

I also included more info on Luna’s family and her triplet cousins as well 🥰🩷

You can also find all my stories on my Masterlist

Full name: Luna Valeria Auclair

Nicknames: Lunes & Lu by Bryce Lahela (OH), Moonbeam (by her grandpa and her dad), Loonsey & Loon-Moon (by her mom & grandma), Sugarplum (by her best friend Maxine), Looney (By her cousins)

Love Interest: Bryce Lahela (Open Heart)

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Birthday: June, 27th

Zodiac Sign: Cancer ♋️

Nationality: American

Born: Honolulu, Hawaii 🌺

Face Claim: none for now

Hair: dark blonde, long and wavy

Height: 5‘0 feet tall

Eyes: Blue-green with a slight aquamarine tint

Education: Luna got her Bachelor of Fine Arts at the University of Hawaii. She specialized in ceramics, drawing painting + sculpture.

She teaches art at the University of Hawaii.

(Though Luna would love to have her own art gallery in Honolulu, Hawaii).

Family: Luna is an only child (for now, though that might change soon).

Luna’s parents:

Grace Amanda Auclair, Luna’s mom is an English teacher at McKinley High (Luna’s old Highschool).

Brian James Auclair, Lunas mom and dad are both from the Chicago area. Brian worked in finance at his father’s company. He comes from a wealthy family- his parents are from new money. They were very strict, and technically he didn't need to work at his fathers company, but he didn't want to be like all the other rich people who lived of off their trust fund. He wanted to earn his money.

The day he met Grace, they were both on their lunch break. Grace spilled her coffee on Brian's shirt and felt so embarrassed. She wanted to pay for dry cleaning, but Brian wouldn't hear it. Later on they kept talking for what seemed like hours. They promised to see each other again on the next day. They met every day for coffee until Brian had the courage to ask her out. They dated for a while before they became official.

Sadly Brian's parents didn't approve of his love with Grace, and they made him choose. Grace wanted to break things off. She didn't want to be the cause of a rift between his parents. But Brian chose Grace and that's the last day he spoke to his parents. They disowned him afterwards.

With some savings they both decided they wanted to make a fresh start. Grace quit her job as an English teacher and Brian quit his job in finance. They packed their belongings and moved to Honolulu, Hawaii. Where Brian opened up his flower shop called »Orchid's Paradise«. He always had a knack for flowers.

They got married and he took his wife’s name (Auclair). He hasn’t spoken to his parents ever since. Though he has a beautiful family now and he couldn’t care less.

Luna‘s aunt, uncle and her triplet cousins:

Joanne Dahlia Auclair (her aunt; maternal side)

Joseph Alexander Auclair (her uncle; maternal side)

Skyler Tristan Auclair (Luna‘s cousin; maternal side)

Soraya Emilia Auclair (Luna‘s cousin; maternal side)

Evangeline Rose Auclair (Luna‘s cousin; maternal side)

Luna‘s cousins have their own wedding planning business called »Sunset Moments«

Luna‘s grandparents:

Angelina Lilly Auclair (Luna’s grandma; maternal side - they share the same birthday - June 27th).

Grayson Oleander Auclair (Luna‘s grandpa; maternal side - a former defense attorney, now retired).

Auclair Family Tree

Auclair Triplets (Luna‘s cousins)

Likes:

- mangos

- cherries

- herb sauce for her fries

- guava

- Haupia (Hawaiian dessert)

- mangas (Bryce loves comics) she would love to do a collab of a manga that features Hawaii

- Luna loves to take old furniture and make it into something new / or restore it to its former glory

- peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with banana slices (Just like Elvis Presley)

Dislikes:

- toxic people

- negative energy

- dishonesty

- liars

- the word »glib« whatever that means

Personality: bubbly and sunshiny. Very open, honest, loyal, generous, a true sweetheart. Though hurt the people she loves? And you should better run.

Friends: She has her best friend Maxine Moore, who’s a tattoo artist based in Honolulu, Hawaii 🩷

Adam Sinclair who she went to school with. They went on one date but found out they’re better off as friends.

Amber Merchant - a popular photographer who took this photo of Luna 🥰

Luna‘s favorite Hawaiian proverbs:

Kahuna Nui Hale Kealohalani Makua – “Love all you see, including yourself.”

Aloha Aku No, Aloha Mai No – (I give my love to you, you give your love to me.)

Ua ola no i ka pane a ke aloha – (There is life in a kindly reply.)

‘A’OHE PU’U KI’EKI’E KE HO’A’O ‘IA E PI’I – (No cliff is so tall it cannot be climbed.)

12 things about Luna:

🌺 plays the ukulele

🌺 her hair was as pale as moonlight and that’s how she got the name Luna

🌺 She got her nickname ”Looney“ from watching Looney Tunes as a kid

🌺 dances Hula

🌺 peonies & lilacs are among her favorite flowers

🌺 she was once stung by a jellyfish and got a tiny star shaped scar from it

🌺 allergic to ginger

🌺 thinks grasshoppers are creepy (though spiders are cute)

🌺 played soccer in grade school and in high school she switched to volleyball and tennis

🌺 was on the cheer squad together with her cousin Soraya (who was the cheer captain)

🌺 Had a belly button piercing but it got infected so she had to remove it.

🌺 Luna struggles with anxiety and can't handle large crowds. She's had help from her family, but also from her therapist. She goes there from time to time. Not as often as she did before she met Bryce. Art is like therapy for her. That's why she likes to paint or create to help her relax. Because some days are harder than others. She quit her job in Boston, because she was bullied by her boss. She didn't feel good to work in a toxic work environment like that. Bryce wasn't really happy in Boston either. They both missed home, so they moved back to Honolulu, Hawaii and Keiki went with them. (I explored that in my story By a Landslide)

[juniyfmmoment]

BOO HC DESIGNS FOR PUFF PUFF AND DEEJAY

I thought it would be fun to whip up a doodle of Puff Puff and Deejay in my vision! and I also thought it would be fun to write abt my hc YFM backstory and how they met!

Read If u want to but here it is! (Don't mind how ass my writing is)

Puff Puff and Deejay have known each other since childhood. The pair met when Puff found a lonely Deejay, crying after the incident with his step-dad. Knowing that Deejay was going through awful things like he was, Puff Puff would talk to Deejay and make him feel better by letting him play with his airplane and dragon toys. Because of Puff Puff's kind act, he and Deejay would become the bestest of friends. Despite Puff Puff's weird behavior and his lack of intelligence, Deejay didn't mind since he enjoyed Puff's company. For a long time, it was them against the world, until seventh grade when they met a new student named Benatar. Even though Puff would tease the poor British boy for being too soft, Deejay offered to befriend Benatar with the same kindness Puff showed him many years ago. The duo became a trio and they couldn't be happier.

One day, after moving into a better household with his grandma and grandpa, Puff Puff found himself watching music videos on MTV. After a long binge, Puff Puff had a brilliant idea that he would tell his friends. At school, Puff Puff proposed the idea of starting a band with his friends just so they could be cool. Deejay and Benatar were on board; however, the majority of the group didn't know how to play instruments. Benatar was the only member who was able to play both guitar and piano while Deejay and Puff Puff didn't have any musical talents. After a discussion, it was decided that Puff would be the band's lead singer and Deejay would somehow learn to become a dj. The band was almost completed but Puff Puff knew that they needed a drummer. That’s when Benatar introduced his new friend Axel into the friend group. After presenting some immaculate drumming skills, Axel was welcomed to the band and Your Favourite Martian officially began.

The band had a rocky start however. Because of High school, YFM wasn’t able to write any songs or perform at events since everyone was so busy. This was until Deejay got himself kicked out of his house which eventually made him drop out of school since he felt like there wasn’t a point in attending any more. When Puff Puff noticed, he had a conversation with Deejay which inspired him to drop out of high school as well. Not only as a way to support his best friend but as a way to get YFM back on its feet. While writing their first few songs, Axel joined the two in dropping out since he never cared about high school and wanted to be famous instead. After completing the writing stage and waiting for Benatar to graduate, YFM was able to create their first song; My Balls. It became a hit which inspired the group to not only make more music but buy themselves a tour bus so they could pursue music and flee from their old lives.

[mspoisoncoil]

Got bored. Then started brain rotting again. Though the idea wasn't original nor was it the first time I thought of the idea. I'm just now writing though.

One Piece x F!Reader

Title:Just my luck

Summary

➥The crew failed to understand how much information Crocodile could get his hands on, which leads to the unfortunate fate of their little guest.

♥ ♦ ♠ ♥ ♦ ♠ ♥

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[Y/n] guessed it was gonna happen, well.. Eventually at least. When she first blinked and found herself suddenly facing the sea, behind her being an entire forest where a small cottage resided. She lived fairly well after the initial confusion, being adopted by a sweet little grandpa and a warm-hearted grandma who lived alone. Their blood-related children were surprised at the abrupt appearance of [Y/n], though quickly warmed up to the woman.

She had a suspicion that it was the anime series, 𝙊𝙣𝙚 𝙋𝙞𝙚𝙘𝙚, that she suddenly appeared in. Though her suspicion solidified when her eyes caught sight of a wanted poster, one of the characters she favored most being one of them. With the same hat on his head and the same grin she grew fond of....... Ace

(E/c) colored eyes stared at the piece of rough paper, stuck and pinned to the villages bulletin board. It was delivered by the news coo just this morning and had been pinned there by one of the villagers, probably..

Ace's bounty poster and the fact that her adoptive grandpa gifted her a den-den mushi.. A very ugly one at that.., further proved that she was correct. She is in the world of one piece, and thus, she has to make a decision. Sacrifice her domestic life here on Sail Island, or assist the main characters in their troubles, while also saving other characters as well?

She doesn't know, if she suddenly became a widely known figure in this brutal world, it would bring more danger to her, her adoptive family and this island. Where she made new memories.. Made new friends.. Met new people.. Had a break from the suffocating environment of the real world she believed she'd be pulled back to.

But alas, every good thing had an end, right?. The day she'd embark on a journey to someplace else, possibly trying to find the crew or just to find her own adventure, would mark a new chapter in her life here. And she'd wait for it, with an open mind and sweet smile. Although she hadn't considered the possibility of the crew themselves coming on her island, it was a surprise but it was nice..

✦──────────────────────────✦

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘳, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘗𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 [𝘏/𝘤] 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘴. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪, 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯.

𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥𝘭𝘺, 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘸 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘴𝘢𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 [𝘌/𝘤] 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘱 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵.

[𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰. 𝘈𝘴 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘯. 𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘐𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘶𝘧𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 78 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯.

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘚𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘱𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. "𝘚𝘰-*𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦*—𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.. " 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦]'𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘥.

𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩, [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘱 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯. 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦, [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰. 𝘍𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺. 𝘚𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 [𝘏/𝘤] 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘖𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. "𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵, 𝘠𝘶𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦]. [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦], 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘙𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘢 𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰"

𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘰𝘧 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦], 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘥 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦]. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥'𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩. [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵-𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. "𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘸, [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦], 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵'𝘺𝘢 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴? 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺."

𝘈𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰, 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘵. 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯. "𝘠𝘢'𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩'𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘺, 𝘮'𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨". 𝘡𝘰𝘳𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘥, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦�� 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥. 𝘘𝘶𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯. " 𝘖𝘐! 𝘐𝘛'𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛 𝘓𝘐𝘒𝘌 𝘛𝘏𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘖𝘓𝘋 𝘎𝘌𝘌𝘡𝘌𝘙!!" 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘴-𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘢𝘮, 𝘧𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺.

✧──────────────────────────✧

That was the mark she'd been waiting for, when [Name] first stepped on Merry, she frowned inside. Remembering all too clearly how Merry passed away, how she cried when her own crew fought each other. [Name] kept to herself, even when the crew welcomed her with open arms, except for a green-haired swordsman of course. She eventually found out what timeline they were in, pre-timeskip. And she was accompanying them on their way to Alabasta, a week after they left Drum Island.

[Name] was a quiet one, solemnly ever smiling or laughing at any of Usopp's prided jokes nor Luffy's attempts to get her to grin a little. They rarely ever saw her as well, staying cooped up in her temporarily shared room with Nami, that or she was sitting in the crows nest, near Nami's tangerines or somewhere else the crew has yet to find her in.

When they arrived at Alabasta, [Name] was tightlipped and ignored the familiar scenes she used to coo at. Keeping to herself, repeating again and again how she couldn't afford to get attached, not to a crew like them, or any other crew.. All she is supposed to do is save characters and assist the crew on their journey. Then as fast as she appeared in their life, she'd be gone.. Yeah.. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰..

But those things are easier said than done, She didn't expect it to go this way. When the crew had seperated from her, telling her that she was safer if the Barouqe works didn't know she was with them. She agreed, nodding her head silently as she stepped back and walked away. Vivi frowned at the sight of [Name]'s back, feeling as if they were abandoning someone they brought along themselves. Though the crew didn't think much of it, she was a crewmember now, she was more helpless than Nami was so they can't risk endangering her.

It was a decision Luffy firmly disagreed on at first, but eventually gave in at the thought of his new crewmember being hurt. Fully aware of how weak [Name] was.

➥╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

[𝘌/𝘤] 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘦𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘳𝘺, 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘻𝘦𝘳𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥, 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘩𝘦'𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦'𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴.

[𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘶𝘱. 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦] 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘕𝘪𝘤𝘰 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘨𝘭𝘺𝘱𝘩'𝘴.

𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘊𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 70% 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 60% 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘴. 𝘚𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 [𝘏/𝘤] 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘈 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯.

𝘗𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘺 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 [𝘕𝘢𝘮𝘦]'𝘴 𝘵𝘰-𝘥𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵..

➥╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Getting knocked out and sacked on the head was more painful than you imagine, [Name] groaned as she had the ugly hat ripped off of her. Blinking as she opened her eyes, '𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩.. 𝘔𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘬' [Name] whispered to herself, body forcefully shoved into a kneeling position as she raised her head. Quickly meeting gazes with an 8ft tall beast.

Crocodile was intrigued, humming as he slightly tilted his head down. Taking note of the blank expression the woman had, even after being kidnapped. Soon crouching down, arms on his knees as he raised his hook up to [Name]'s chin. Tilting the girls head up.

"They really took you in? " He asked, towards not [Name] but towards Robin, the woman confirmed, hand on her hip as she stared down at [Name]. The younger woman moving her gaze over, the same stoic expression still present. "Do tell, why they let someone as feeble as you on their ship? " the man asked. Now to [Name], receiving only silence in return.

Finding himself amused at the woman he stood up straight and turned his back to the kneeling girl, speaking to Robin as he walked out of the room. "Make her spit out everything she knows about'em. Do whatever you want after" he said. Leaving behind Robin, who turned her head towards [Name] before dropping the grin she wore. Soon following Crocodile out.

When [Name] was dragged into a room, she didn't expect Mr. 3 to walk in, overflowing with determination. After trying to make her snitch on the crew, he walked out, frustrated as he slammed the door shut. That was shorter than [Name] had expected it to be. Admittedly, she had poked fun of him, which he didn't like.

She doesn't wanna recall it, but a lower agent approached her, snaking his hands on where they weren't supposed to be and ended up with a broken nose. Getting infuriated as he commanded some Barouqe workers to feed her to the Bananawani's. Mocking the woman when she squirmed in the hold of two men, soon finding herself attempting to hold her breath long enough.

⟬↦ [NAME] POV ↤ ⟭

I forced myself to keep it in my lungs, struggling to keep it that way as my vision blurred. Dark spots appearing before enlarging. Should I have stayed on my island? Should I have refused their offer to join? But I couldn't.. Not when he looked at me and expected my answer to be yes.

I found myself letting go of my breath when I noticed a silhouette appear above the water, an agitated look on his face as he turned away and shouted. It was Crocodile.. But if being caught by him was a way to get out of this place then I'd rather be imprisoned by him than being surrounded by ugly crocodiles. Or were they alligators?.. I don't care. But I did care when my vision went black and I felt water being moved, feeling a big snout on my back pushing me to the top of the water.

I'll rest for a bit, it'll be fine.. No matter what, me being here wouldn't have a big effect of what will happen.

↘︎﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍

Crocodile grinned at the sight of Luffy reaching out to him with a sneer, only to fall limply to the floor as the Sea prism stone took affect. Getting annoyed at the repeated sound of metal clashing with metal, soon slightly shouting at Zoro that his actions wouldn't result to anything. Causing the swordsman to scowl at him.

I'm skipping most of the parts so yeah, after a while of chatting with the warlord, Vivi came bursting in, shouting at the taller man before attacking him. Least to say his head exploded into sand surprising everyone, Vivi was soon pushed down to the ground where Crocodile looked down on her.

Her eyes went wide with shock as she stared at the sight in front of her. The crew had not yet seen it, with how Vivi was thrown to the opposite side and with the table cloth and Chair obscuring their view. The caged hostages flinched when Vivi suddenly shouted out a name, a name the crew was horrified to hear.

"[NAME]!!"

Crocodile grinned, getting off the table Vivi had once stood on and kicked the chair away. Revealing a sight the crew hated to see, [Name] was on the ground, back turned towards the cage the crew and a singular marine was in. Her hands on display in front of their eyes, held together by sea prism stone.

She was 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 in water, hair clumping together as the liquid was yet to dry, clothes damped and sticking to her body, even worse? 𝘉𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, the red liquid was puddled around your stomach, drenching the woman's shirt as she laid there, limp as Vivi placed her hands on the woman's shoulder, the other hand pushing back hair that covered her face. Only to be more mortified as she saw dried blood from your lips down to your chin.

"Patched her up, irritated one of my lackeys and made them stab her in the gut. Stupid woman, doesn't know when to do as she's told." Crocodile said, talking through the cigar he had in his mouth. This was their first mistake, had they not left you maybe you would've been safe, maybe you wouldn't have been stabbed.

[Name] opened her eyes to see Vivi crying, biting her lip as she held back a sob. The woman could faintly hear the crew shouting profanities at Crocodile, even though he did nothing wrong.. Well... Besides kidnapping you of course, it was mainly Luffy, Nami, Sanji and Zoro that cursed at Crocodile, any other voices she couldn't comprehend anymore. Realizing she'd be a dead weight to the crew and their escape as well as their plan to save Alabasta, the bleeding woman frowned closing her eyes as she thought to herself.

'Just my luck.. '

[housesunstone]

tell me about the person you went on 1 date with and hit it off but kept losing contact until rematching on hinge and tinder

Okay! When i tell you this is romcom levels of bs I mean it.

So it's 2015, and this kid, I'll call him C, met for the first time when our high schools were doing a thing. We get thrown into the same group chat for a bit throughout the day, and we hit it off. I don't use Snapchat, and Instagram wasn't a thing I used either back then, so we just drifted apart at the end of that day.

Flash forward to June 2018 and I did a victory lap in high school (I graduated in 2017 but deferred my acceptance into uni until the 2018 fall semester) I just got out of a really shitty relationship with this girl named H. H was a really bad person and I ignored those red flags for wayyyy to long (fun fact H still stalks me and after she dumped me she immediately got into a relationship with another girl who looked like me...) Anyways... H was a year younger than me, so while we were together, I became friends with some of her friends, and some of those friends chose me at the end of the relationship and not her. So as a joke my one friend K went to prom together with our other friend J, and my other friend M was at our table and her date N he went to a different highschool. The night of prom N and I were chatting since that was the first time I ever met him and he said something along the lines of "My friend met someone with the same name as you and had a huge crush on them isn't that funny" mind you we are all between the ages of 17-18 and fully not sober. So it never crossed my mind that this friend of his may be C even though I have a very unique name and no one else in my city has this name.

After prom N goes and tells C about this person who went to the same highschool and has the same name of this person he had a thing for. It took them some time to connect the dots and once they did it was too late I had left my city to go to uni.

Flash forward to March 2019, I dropped out of uni because I didn't like what I was doing. I loved where I was and the friends I made but didn't want to keep wasting money. So I move back home. September 2019 rolls around, and I start at my local college's film program. The film program is right by the IT and Pilot classes so we see them briefly all the time. EVERY SINGLE DAY UNTIL COVID C AND I SAW EACH OTHER AND NEVER REALIZED THAT IT WAS US.

Its now March 2021 we are doing classes fully online and I get hired in my field before I graduate. Still, in class, my teachers just gave me a pass since I had already been hired, and I then actually graduated in April in an online thing and never got a proper graduation. (sad but moving on)

Okay, so it's November 2021, and I decided to redownload Tinder since its been since 2018 that I've had a relationship, and I am one of those people who can't do one-night stands. The first person that pops up is C. We match. We chatted on Tinder for a bit, then moved to texting. December 2021 rolls around, we go on a coffee date. He got the location wrong (since there are two that are in our city), and I stood out in the freezing Northern Ontario winter waiting. He shows up, and we decide instead to get a coffee to go and take a ride in his car.

The date lasted four hours, and we talked the whole time; it was great. After the date, we texted more, but then the holidays rolled around, and we drifted.

In March 2022, I needed to get a new number since my ex was stalking me once more, and I also got a new phone this time and lost all my contacts... I lose C's number.

In June 2022, we match on hinge. We are talking at a great time. We don't go straight to texting this time. He gets an internship out of town, and in July, I leave my city to stand up in a wedding.

In December 2022, we match on hinge again. As we were about to set up a date for the new year, my grandma broke her ankle. Since my grandpa has heart problems and can't take care of her by himself, and I can work from home, I take care of her. Between then and March 2023, we chat on and off before both of us leave hinge around the middle of March.

In May 2023, we met again on Tinder. Again, talking is great. We joke that we keep missing each other. On July 3rd, I left my city for 2.5 months for work reasons.

October 2023, we match again... he has a death in the family, and we lose touch.

AUGUST 13 2024 WE MATCH ON BOTH HINGE AND TINDER. HIS OPENING LINE ON HINGE IS "Remember me?" AND HIS OPENING LINE ON TINDER IS "Because I didn't forget you"

Fucking rom-com bs

[dykehayleywilliams]

may I ask about the mitski curse or is it secret knowledge

*LONG POST INCOMING* It all started in 2016.

I've been a Mitski fan since 2014 when First Love/Late Spring premiered on Stereogum and desperately wanted to see her live. The chance finally came after I moved to New York; I had tickets for her show in February 2016 at The Knitting Factory. But then. A freeze hit the city that weekend, resulting in a pipe in the shitty apartment bursting so I missed the show because I had to wait for the emergency repair guy to come by. Okay, well that's a bummer, I though. I've been waiting for almost two years to see Mitski but surely I'll get another chance. July 2016. I was living in Texas for the summer, a few hours away from Austin, where Mitski had a show scheduled. Perfect! I can drive up to the show! My old, barely functioning truck can handle the drive! It did not. My car broke down two hours outside Austin.

November 2016. Third try to see Mitski in a year is the charm, right? Oh wait, I waited too long to buy a flight to my grandma's for thanksgiving and I had to fly out the day of the Mitski show because every other flight was $500 more expensive.

By 2017 I was starting to get worried. I had tickets to see her April 2017, but I got horrific food poisoning and couldn't get out of bed for three days.

I didn't get another try until late 2018 on the Be The Cowboy tour during her 4 night residency at Brooklyn Steel. Except Mitski's popularity had blown up significantly and I couldn't get tickets when they went on sale the first three shows. BUT THEN a fourth show was added, on a Monday night, and I finally got tickets! Perfect! Until I had a final project for one of my classes scheduled the same night that I could not miss without failing the class, and I desperately tried to find tickets for another night but none were available for under $300.

At that point I was convinced: I was cursed. There were no tour dates I was even able to TRY to make, and then in September 2019 Mitski played Summer Stage (two weeks after I moved from New York) and announced it would indefinitely be her last live show.

October 2021: Mitski releases Working for the Knife and announces a tour. The closest tour date to where I was living was 8 hours away, but I fought for my life for tickets and was determined I would finally break the curse.

I got COVID two days before Mitski's Denver show in March 2022.

BUT WAIT! Mitski was announced as one of the openers for HSLOT's European stadium leg! And my friends and I planned a bar trip to Scotland that lined up with the weekend of Harry's show in Glasgow! Okay, maybe seeing Mitski as an opener at a stadium show isn't ideal, but I was desperate. Except, of course, the stadium entry was a complete mess, and we didn't get into the show until the very end of Mitski's set. I had finally seen her live, but for 8 minutes and at what cost.

I wasn't happy, but I told myself it wasn't the end of the world because I already had plans to see Mitski at the All Things Go festival in October, so redemption would come soon enough. Then Hurricane Ian hit and my flight to DC that had a layover in Orlando was cancelled the day before I was supposed to leave. At that point, there was nothing I could do but laugh. Why did I think it would go any differently this time? No. I couldn't take it anymore. I dropped wayyyyy too much money on a different flight to DC with no layover. That flight was delayed by 5 hours, but I made it. Nothing was going to stop me.

Mitski's set starts. We're in the pit, I'm 5'2" so I'm on my tip toes, straining my neck to keep my eyes on Mitski. And then. Everyone's BeReals went off during Francis Forever and the crowd became a sea of phones. I was crushed. I had broken the curse, but 9 years too late.

[ashfa123456789]

*The unbreakable bond of Cousinhood*

" In a world where trust is hard to come by, I'm grateful to have one cousin who I can trust blindly . We've grown up together, sharing Secrets, Family traditions,trips, jokes and Stories. Sometimes we fought over little things like remote, toys, dresses but at the end we alawys made up in the end . She's mine support system no matter what cousin love is unconditional love without any judgement our bond are like lifelong friendship. Our meet up spot was . My grandma's house. We spent hours and days together with full of joy

It's been 15 years of laughter, tears and trips in our unbreakable cousin connection. As we grew older we traveled new place ,tried new foods , and do outdoor activities together. Our conversation was deeply meaningful . We discuss our future aim and share advice and support each other's dream's goal, aim. My cousin is more than just relative. She's my best friend and secret keeper and supportive sister

Whenever I think about my cousinhood with 'Zaara', my heart is filled with lots of expression and emotions like,happiness ,excitement and jealousy also when I see her close to other's. That time our 13 years of Cousinhood completed.And suddenly she gone out of town because of her father's business but we still didn't break our contact with each other. And then one day ,she suddenly surprised me,and I feel overjoyed, and dancing with happiness and excitement that After a year I wanted to share so many things and gossip and now I can't wait. And it's going to be 16 years in a few months. I hope our bond continues for a lifetime.

She is so sweet and humble,caring ,protective nature. We may not be siblings,but you are my crime partner.Our bond is a best album of memories and true feelings and infinity funny moments. You're the cousin who makes me feel special at every functions. Cousin like you are a precious and rare gift from God. Cousin like you make life's journey beautiful easy and worthwhile. And this never misses a chance to make me happy and feel special for example:- One day I'll discuss with zaara that I want one novel and after a few days she gifted me the novel that I really want. This small gesture makes my day because of my cousin.

Since day you came in my life as a cousin and slowly start becoming a friend and we sharing our Secrets and build the strongest bonding and you became my bestie. And my cousin is a ray of light and happiest ,beautiful destiny of my life .

Afterall , she's my pain relief,my understanding partner and you're my forever favorite person. A cousin is a little bit of childhood that never be lost .To be honest I never feel any difference between my sibling and my cousin. And I really love to spend time with my cousin. Our childhood memories are always hold a special place or feeling in my heart. You're my sunshine and making me bright with nostalgia joy dear.

#Our bond is unbreakable; if it breaks, my trust on cousinhood will never be the same...

I still remember the day when you said me that you are going out of town because of your father's business that day my heart was so broken and pained my heart and soul. I remember all our memories that we spend in our good times and pranks, our madness laughter and traveling unforgettable best memories. She taught me to accept that embrace life. She is the live and pure example of a true best friend. These 1 years was very tough for us I am thinking that she will forget me and make new homes. But I was wrong when she came to Mumbai again I was the first person whom she met, and makes me again very special ,emotional and happy. And I am just saying my cousin that I tried very hard to move on from our attachment but it was useless we remember each other everyday every minute. And I am thinking very emotional and weird things at that time like the promise we made not being separate that promise got broken in a second.

The tears the hug we share that time was enexplained but somehow we manage and control ourselves and made a another promise to be in touch always whether we are in long distance or close with eachother but still we couldn't be able to bridge the gap between us with phone call, text, and video calls because the physical distance created an emotional chasm that slowly grew wider. The time difference made it difficult to find a common time to talk and the conversation became less frequent we started to drift apart and the connection that once seemed Unbreakable began to fray. Distance apart, yet roots of love remain cherished moments in time. In my dreams, I revisit our childhood shores.Love knows no Distance only infinite connection our love blooms .Our bond is a masterpiece of families ties and we create memories to remember journey of our beautiful moments. We both are eachother's strength and motivation.

In my cousin I find a second self. My cousin always gives me her shoulder cry on in time of sorrow. With her I cam face any life's challenges. Her empathetic heart understands my deepest sorrows. My cousin kind or inspires me to be a good and a better person. Our late-night conversation, gossip and food craving all my favorite therapy. Cousin are the bridges that connect our family's past,present,future and any misunderstanding will solve . A real cousin is someone who walks in when the rest of the world Walks out. I smile because you're my family . And we didn't realize that time were making memories we just knew we having a fun. Cousins? Nah were real sisters and besties.

In my cousin I find a second self. My cousin always gives me her shoulder cry on in time of sorrow. With her I cam face any life's challenges. Her empathetic heart understands my deepest sorrows. My cousin kind or inspires me to be a good and a better person. Our late-night conversation, gossip and food craving all my favorite therapy. Cousin are the bridges that connect our family's past,present,future and any misunderstanding will solve . A real cousin is someone who walks in when the rest of the world Walks out. I smile because you're my family . And we didn't realize that time were making memories we just knew we having a fun. Cousins? Nah were real sisters and besties.

Cousinhood is a whimsical journey through childhood mischief and family gatherings. It's the mixture of kinship and creates a bond that feels familiar and extraordinary. Cousinhood is a special kind and Magic that change my mood in a second. This girl know my weird side but stil didn't judge me in a wrong way. And I wonder that how I could have a cousin like you 'Zaara'.

#Cousins #unbreakable bond #mine support system# besties...

[zenoiredottore]

Hoyofam headcannons; relationships

ZZZ:

currency just a baby but I really see them as sort of being frenemies with Wuwa, ik that wuwa is supposed to be the “genshin killer” but I think it’d be more accurate to pin it against zzz but of their closeness in release dates.

No other close relationships outside of their family

Themis:

I like to think that Themis mostly interacts with the other Chinese otome games. And she’s friends with most of them, despite how competitive they are with each other.

Greatly respects international based otome games,

She recognizes that all of them have the same or similar fanbases

But everything changed when love and deepspace got into the market… At first, it was fine… especially since new games flood into the market pretty often. She wasn’t too worried… but then; He started getting more popular… gaining traction… she was still fine with it, a lil good competition is good after all. Then… he became no.1 on downloads worldwide… This was when she started to panic a lil bit. Okay, not just a lil bit… it was driving her insane. She asked her brothers to do something about it… yk… Makes him disappear. But typical brotherly fashion all they said to her was; No, that’s unethical. SINCE WHEN HAVE THEY EVER CARED ABOUT ETHICS… She’s interacted with the new guy here and there, but it was purely professional. She hated his handsome, bad boy-esque charm! He’s such a… a playboy! Shamelessly flirting with her in front of the press, cornering her in a secluded hallway…SHE HATES HIM, OKAY?!?!

Within the family; her and hi3 are best friends, she shops for and decorated zzz’s room, She likes to buy fashionable stuff for hsr, along with hygiene and bath stuff for him, genshin’s TWIN who she could rely on,,, uses her bro’s connections more often than she should

Genshin

Doesn’t have any worthwhile relationships outside of family.

Him and pgr are sort of friends

Hoyofam and kurofam get along quite nicely despite being pinned as competitors in the press

It’s nice to think that he sort of mentors and guides wuwa,,,

Him and hsr are always on pedestals during award shows,,, it’s kinda funny when the real competitors are just themselves

Very nice and courteous to other people when he thinks the vibes are right,,,

Everyone else hates him

Inside of the family; he spends most time with zzz, He talks to themis the most, him and honkai have a mom/big sis/ grandma relationship where he reminds her to take her meds, tells her to tone it down a bit when she’s being too loud, gets coddled and taken care of by the most. Relationship with hsr tends to be a bit rocky and tense at times,,, they aren’t too sweet with each other like they are with their sisters,,, cuz yuck yk. But they are the funniest with each other. They have the most insane brother lore ever

Hi3

A bit of a playgal, but also sort of a loser and the same time…? The hoes love her tho

Was one of the few anime gacha games at the time [I think?] So she was a bit of an outcast

She was already on the video game hall of fame, but she wasn’t too popular. Atleast not as popular as she is today

She has a loyal fanbase that she adores

Made tons of friends during her working days that she doesn’t talk to that much anymore

Inspired a lot of games’ release.

A lot of the people that she meets that are like super successful now are all like “omg you were literally such an inspiration to me, growing up.” And she always feels so old cuz wtf wym you were inspired by her 7 years ago…?

Family; she raised them for Christ’s sake! Not the most maternal parent figure. She didn’t really know much when she was raising genshin since she herself never had a mentor/parent figure. She didn’t raise Themis much since I mentioned in my previous posts that she stayed in this big hydro chamber thing for the first year of her life. Which is why her relationship with Themis is a bit more friend-like since she didn’t have to act like a parent. With Hsr tho, she went full on mom mode. It was her mini me after all! The vessel that will continue her legacy through her retirement and death! She got the hang of it and did take care of him pretty well. With ZZZ tho, it was more like she was the aunt rather than the sister. Not much different with how she raised hsr but she became a lot more chill and secure.

Hsr:

In professional spaces he was always referred to as: Genshin’s brother.

It annoyed him allat, it def didn’t help that he was literally always by his brother’s side

People would approach him, asking about his older siblings

In conventions he’s a bit shy and nervous speaking to large crowds

He got used to it and started liking attending events with all his fans.

Not social with other games but really wants to hang out with them

People hate his brother so much that they don’t want to be associated with him…[ he feels sad about it but also sort of feel bad for his bro]

For his siblings; zzz, an annoying lil bro that just won’t stop pestering him. Themis; buy him stuff! Genshin; his brother, dad, and bestfriend all in one. Hi3; grandma.

[altrie]

some utahime iori hcs i been collecting in my head

i have nowhere else to dump my thoughts so here i am. mostly young utahime iori headcanons bc HI arc was so fun

utahime is a straight A student, she's a perfectionist, has good work ethics, organized, helps everyone around her, etc--a good cookie basically. i can see her being the class president or whatever is equivalent to jjk academics

she's not exactly in par with her peers when it comes to CT, like she knows and she's aware of her skills/limitations. she tries her best not to get lost and sad when she sees her classmates and underclassmen (especially a certain tall junior who's been annoying her since the first day >_>) surpass her

she tries very hard to compensate her skills and hopes to be recognized for her talent and skills as one of the best, just like her classmates! she's very proud of them and always supports them. yet, she cant help but feel so inferior and imposter syndrome hitting her when she doesn't get the results she wanted from the higher ups

she doesn't come from a very big clan with CT (unless gege states something), i can see utahime being raised by her grandparents or her grandma before going to tokyo jujutsu high. her grandma passed away and she was basically living on her own for a while

I'm standing by the idea she attended tokyo jujutsu high over kyoto. she came from kyoto but was recruited to attend tokyo once someone heard her singing and curse energy molded through

besides baseball, one of her favorite things to do during her time living as a student was go to karaoke and sing/dance. she loved to sing modern pop songs she heard from radios, old jpop classics, ballads

utahime singing city pop classics PLEASE 🙌

when she was finally on her last year at the tech school, she met her new juniors. she met shoko first, geto, then gojo. she tries her best to be a good responsible role model for them but that broke almost immediately when 2/3 (or 1/3 really) started to tease her on the first hour and she snapped accidentally. (embarrassed she tried to apologize but the guy was just laughing???)

she gets asked out a lot on dates! usually from upperclassmen or non-sorcerers during her outings. she doesn't go on dates though though because of her lifestyle, missions, school, etc but when she does the relationship doesn't last too long :(

she doesn't really have a best friend until shoko came along. with her class peers often gone for missions, she was always alone until shoko came along. (i don't think meimei and utahime are at the same graduating year, acquaintances at best with some respect for each other)

utahime doesn't really have a specific reason for why she wanted so badly to be a grade 1 sorcerer. for a while, she's in that chase and grind to get that promotion but she's unsure why but she'll do anything for it

she doesn't have the greatest memories of her parents. she remembers her mom and some ladies in her life telling her often to marry into a rich, well-off family, have powerful children etc 🫠. as she got older, she realized she doesn't mind marriage but she also wants to do more and be a sorcerer too

she didn't consider being a teacher at first but after some heartfelt conversation with yaga, she decided to at least keep that option alive until she was ready to try it

she wasn't a drinker before. it wasn't until she got deep into heavy missions where the joy of izakaya became sort of a treat. nothing beats a cold beer and some fried foods after a stressful time out🤤

i like to think that utahime worked part time as a night club singer when she wasn't doing missions or at least to make some extra money while living in tokyo. i like to imagine her singing this one song from one of my favorite video games (more on that later)

[rxin3akamallory]

That Night

I keep pumping out art like it’s no tomorrow good god!

Ok so y’all need context for this one, this is based on a short story I wrote I wanna say a year or two ago focusing around the day Barley and Maria became a couple. Maria’s mother passed away when she was young, and today was the anniversary of her death. It’s unfortunate that that day happened to also be her mom’s birthday. The whole day Maria was going through different emotions, but was determined to keep them bottled to herself. At least until she got home. Barley unintentionally makes her crack and in the drawing, he arrives inside Maria’s home. He’s come to apologize for not being sensitive towards her feelings and not giving her enough space.

An excerpt from the short I wrote is provided below. It’s ehhh tbh but still probably one of my best written work within the last year or two.

Barley: Is it ok if I come in, or?

Maria: Oh! Right, I’m sorry.

Maria led him inside. Barley sat on her bed while Maria went back to work on her broomstick.

Barley: Hey, you’re making a new broomstick.

Maria: Yeah I finally got the motivation to work on a new one.

Barley: I remember what happened to the first one. You were so devastated. You acted almost Iike how you were today.

Maria: Yeah, I almost didn’t want to replace it. That broomstick meant so much to me.

Barley: I saw a name carved onto the broomstick. Elizabeth Morven. Are they a family member of your’s?

Maria: That’s uh.. my mother’s name.

Barley: Oh. Did she give it to you?

Maria: Mhm. She made that broomstick for me so I could have it when I’d set off for witch training.

Barley: That’s right. It’s what witches used to do when they were the age of 13. They’d set off on a year’s training to strengthen their magic. You were able to actually go into training?

Maria: Yes, I know other witches stopped doing that decades ago, but my family believed in keeping older traditions alive so they insisted I’d go train. My mom especially wanted to see me go. But.. she passed away before she could see that happen.

Barely: I’m so sorry, Maria.

Maria: I was trying to hold back my emotions because tonight’s the night she passed away.

Barley’s eyes widened. He knew she lost her mother when she was young, like how Barley lost his father, but he never knew how she passed away. She never really talks about it to anyone. He wanted to know what happened but at the same time, he didn’t want to press on in case he’d hurt her again.

Barley: Oh. You don’t have to talk about it, but I know what that feels like. You feel like you have to keep strong for the one you lost. You want them to be proud of the person you’ve become, you know? So you try to bottle in your emotions.

Maria: Mhm. You see this bracelet?

Maria held up her wrist so Barley could see the purple bracelet she was wearing.

Maria: The night my mother passed away, was also her birthday. My father gave mom a new bracelet as a present. As she took off her old bracelet, she handed it to me.

Maria held up her left wrist and showed the exact bracelet her mom gave her.

Maria: I wear it everyday ever since. So I can always keep her close…

Maria started to tear up, Barley instinctively gripping her hand.

Barley: I’m so sorry for your loss, Maria.

Maria: She made me feel safe and secure as a kid, and to lose her so suddenly terrified me. I lost that secure feeling. I worry everyday the same thing could happen to someone else, to my friends, to you, to grandma, to dad.. To me..

Barley hugged Maria as tight as he could.

Barley: Shh, Maria no. Don’t think like that.

He let her cry into his shoulder for a few moments until her sobs turned into small breaths.

Barley: What did you get her?

Maria: Hm?

Barley: Your mom’s birthday. Did you give her anything?

Maria: Hold on.

Maria lets go of Barley and opens a drawer on her desk. She takes out two large rings meant to be wrapped around the end of a broomstick.

Maria: I wanted to give her one to put on her broomstick and one to put on my future one when I got older. I might put mine on my new broomstick, but I don’t know where to put my mother’s.

Barley thought about it for a moment until he got an idea.

Barley: You got any string on you?

Maria: Yeah why?

Barley: You’ll see. Here, hand me the ring.

Maria hands the ring along with some rope. Barley carefully puts the string in the ring and ties the ends together, making it into a necklace. He motioned Maria to turn around and when she did he slipped the necklace around her neck.

Barley: There, now your mother’s right where she always was.

Barley points to her heart where the ring was.

Maria: It’s perfect. Thank you, Bar.

Barley: And you shouldn’t feel unsafe, Maria. You still got your father and grandma, your friends, and you got me. You shouldn’t worry about what’ll probably happen to us, you should be more focused on right now. And right now, from this day forward, I want to make sure you feel safe so I promise to protect you like your mother did. With your permission that is.

Maria smiled, new tears falling down her cheeks.

Maria: Of course. I can’t think of anyone better to fill that role.

[freebooter4ever]

If you weren't actually meaning to open a convo on the all star game feel free to ignore this!

But I think it just has a lot to do with how the all star weekend involves a ton of media so even if they enjoy the game/events themselves there's a lot of strings attached. Like all your coworkers are posting vacation photos, and you may have even been on vacation with them, but you had to cut yours short to work. Sure the office is also throwing a party but it just isn't quite the same as having those days off.

lol!!! Well its not really a discussion on my part because i will just never be able to understand the player's perspective, but i find it fascinating to hear explanations of why the players dont like it - partially because i wonder if the league was a little more "hip", if it could be salvaged.

For one thing, for some of us salary challenged people 'vacation' is not really a thing - i always used my time off to go home and visit my grandparents. Though quite honestly i'd rather hang out with grandma for five days doing nothing but puzzles than sit on a beach doing nothing for five days. When i lived and worked on the east coast i spent most of the year missing my grandparents and the pacific northwest and wishing i was there, so naturally it was always the first place i went to when i got a chance. Im weird. And boring. I realize this.

Secondly, when i did work in education there was this yearly conference and pretty soon after i became in charge of the art department we started bringing the whole team to these conferences. It was the highlight of my year - im not even kidding, im that much of a nerd. I thought my team were the greatest people ever - a sort of found family if you will - and getting to be stuck for an entire weekend with them in some of the most boring cities the united states has to offer never failed to entertain. You know how when you're with people you love everything just feels more exciting? Even dumb shit like getting lost on the DC subway because the foodie of your group wants to try a very specific japanese restaurant thats in a far corner of the city on the opposite end of where the hotel is located. Or getting lost in Atlanta because we had to walk all over the old olympi*c grounds just to see some old stadium so the sports fans in our group could take a photo. Actually now that i think about it most of our outings involved getting lost while walking places. Im not even going to go into detail about the more boring cities because im embarrassed to admit that i found even the most mundane events Really Exciting with these guys. I had a blast, this was the highlight of my LIFE, i dont have very many friends or get out much, lol. I miss those days. I see some of the team individually, like when i last visited pittsburgh, but its not the same as being trapped in a random city and having to entertain yourselves during the off hours when you're not giving presentations. These conferences were also the only time i ever experienced Popularity. Being able to sit in a hotel lobby and have people come up to me, because they recognized me (or my team) was a blast. This is the ideal scenario for a shy person who loves talking to people but cant start a conversation to save my life. I did not care that most of these fans were educators over 40, they all had interesting stories and hearing them talk about using our program helped me come up with new things to implement next so it was a win-win. I also shamelessly used this time to do research on the history of our team. The group peaked in the 90s/2000s and it was really easy to get the older members to start talking about those days. i could probably write a book with everything i learned over the years. except not because even education nerds have scandal. the thing i always found is that if a person seems boring its just cause you haven't asked them the right questions yet.

There was one instance of a guy my age who came up to me and turned out to know the sculpting program i used, and was canadian so we had the whole pacific northwest thing in common, so after the con was over for the day the two of us went out on the town alone. And stayed out till like 2am, not doing anything wild (we visitd tourist sites! We bought smoothies!) i believe we ended up hanging out on an empty playground and talking philosophy, but im pretty sure that was the closest i will ever get to having a one night hookup. The hookup part did not happen because i was too shy to invite him back to my hotel room, and he was staying in a buddhist temple because it was the cheapest housing available and he was a broke grad student studying machine learning and art. I still remember that night, that was the Best night, partially because it was so unexpected and a random happenstance meeting of two strangers who would normally never come together.

Aaaaaall that said, i do realize we are talking about hockey players here who i imagine are maybe not the best conversationalists, and maybe would much rather be sleeping on a beach somewhere. And most of them are probably not the creative type to make exploring a city new or interesting no matter how many times you've been there. (with the exception of sid*ney cro*sby who as we all know is excellent at scavenger hunts). So all right, yeah, maybe i too wouldn't relish the idea of being stuck in a city with a whole bunch of hockey bros.

I also imagine its very different asking someone like sid if he enjoys the all*star game versus asking some player who isnt the best in the league and maybe just got there because of a voting fluke or the rest of his team is just shitty, and is maybe fairly new to the league and this is his first time going, and holy shit he's sitting next to sid at breakfast. Cmon theres got to be at least one guy having that experience even if they would never admit it because its uncool to fangirl.

[buckets-and-trees]

Me, HP, and she who should not be named

I no longer financially supporting JK Rowling in any capacity and will continue to maintain that position unless we reach a day where she publicly comes out in an active reversal of her TERF and anti-semitic views (taking action, not just making a statement).

But the Wizarding World that was created...

It's personal for me.

I'm going to pour out a bit of my soul here because I need the catharsis and my own resolution, not because I'm looking to argue, persuade, or dictate to anyone on any level, but I need to make this post for me. There may be people out there who are grappling with the complications as much as I am, and so that's why I'm sharing this, but I will not be engaging in any arguments. Full stop.

I got the first book in paperback in an airport when we were flying to my grandma's house for Christmas, and I devoured it. Two weeks later, I asked for and received books two and three for my thirteenth birthday. Eighteen months later I eagerly waited for the postal worker to deliver Goblet of Fire to my doorstep from this website called Amazon that had made this insane industry-changing promise to have books in our hands the day it was released.

Three weeks later, my family was abruptly uprooted and moved to a new city. Harry, Hogwarts, and these books were my lifeline until I finally made new friends. I read Prisoner of Azkaban so much that the binding of my original copy split from being worn so much. I started writing my first ever fan fiction. It was pretty awful. I typed it and printed it out. I still have it in a binder on my bookshelf because ... it's the second thing I ever wrote. (The first thing was a two-page short story assignment in my eighth grade English class only a few months before.)

My oldest and longest best friend of my life? One of the girls I met during that tumultuous freshman year of high school when we discovered a mutual love for Harry Potter. My mom (single mother) and I had to drive a lot of places together, and I read the books aloud to her in the car.

I didn't get to midnight-release Order of the Phoenix, but I did get to with Half-Blood Prince.

I discovered online fan fiction through Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean, but after HBP's release I went down the rabbit hole of the HP fandom. I got caught up in the "Romance > Other Pairings" category on a HP fanfic site that no longer exists but had quite an active community for many years where submissions for all categories on the site were moderated by real human fans. There was a forum with houses, challenges, a "book club" and a "review club", writing classes, fic exchanges, and annual awards. I became a mod on the site, taught a "Rare Pairs" class, was active in my house, was part of the elite review club...

But most importantly, in that era, I made lifelong friends that I still am in touch with. I met one of my best fandom friends who lived in the same city as my grandmother. I flew to Kentucky for a 4-5 day house party with four of those fandom friends. I went to the Phoenix Rising conference in New Orleans in May 2007 with three other fandom friends where I got to be a featured drabble writer during one of the sessions and met the guy who was "The Remus Lupins" during the heyday of Wizard Rock. At that conference, I got tapped to be part of a "readers discussion" Borders filmed ahead of the release of the final book where all we debated was "Snape: good or evil" for an hour. (When Borders ceased to exist as a company, there website and all content was wiped from the known internet world so...if you're wanting to internet sleuth it, be my guest, I would LOVE to ever see that footage again, but I've never been able to find it while scouring the world wide web.)

One of my best fandom friends flew to my house for a week for the release of Deathly Hallows so we could read and revel together. The next year I flew to Sweden to spend seventeen glorious days with two of my other best fandom friends who lived an hour outside of Stockholm.

I was one of the people who did the chance/lottery thing in order to be one of the only one million fans given the beta access to Pottermore when the site was first launched in 2011.

One of the things my stepdad and I initially were able to start bonding over when my mom got remarried was that he actually had read the books and loved them.

I watched A Very Potter Musical the first summer it came out on YouTube. Potter Puppet Pals. The shit show of content censoring on LiveJournal that spurred the creation of AO3 and a mass exodus to this fairly new social media thing called tumblr? I was there for all of it.

I went to DC and spent a week with another fandom BFF who I had not only a HP podcast with, but we also did a little over three years/four seasons of a Downton Abbey podcast together.

A couple of years after I graduated from college, did a year-long internship, then got my first full-time job, moved out, put a year under my belt there, and then started to realize I needed...hobbies and to meet new friends in my town, my aunt suggested I join some groups on meetup.com and I joined this one that was a HP book club on a silly goofy whim but I was like, psh, I'm not probably even going to go to that one... but the girl who organized it messaged me, personally invited me, they were only on the second week of the book club, and I decided to actually go and... went to that group of 25-30ish year old adult book club for three years. We cycled through the book series twice.

My first ever solo trip was to go to Harry Potter World in LA. I

That's the stuff I can define specifically for you when it comes to the deep roots Harry Potter has in my life.

But that's not even touching the deep roots it established in my identity and my worldview.

This was a world that launched my imagination as a CREATOR. I wrote hundreds of thousands of words in this fandom, created multiple WIP/AUs, established intricate head canons, and read absolutely more fanfics than I can even begin to count.

But the devastating thing for me - and I think so many of us...

This was a narrative that taught me about censorship, governmental corruption, acceptance, love, standing up for what was right. I remember when she came out saying Albus Dumbledore was gay and how controversial that was. That IRL adult Harry Potter Book Club? We fucking read Order of the Phoenix, Half-Blood Prince, and Deathly Hallows during the Trump presidency and at length discussed the horrors of the political similarities.

There are things now that I look back and see clearly were red flags... the name Cho Chang, lack of diversity in any major characters, calling Harry/Hermione shippers "delusional" in one of her biggest/most notable interviews by fans for fans and then coming out ten years later saying she was totally wrong and should have put H/Hr together...

Daniel Radcliffe wrote this essay for The Trevor Project in 2020 when the woman started to publicly make her reprehensible views known. He closes that essay in a way that resonated with me then and continues to be a balm to my soul now:

To all the people who now feel that their experience of the books has been tarnished or diminished, I am deeply sorry for the pain these comments have caused you. I really hope that you don’t entirely lose what was valuable in these stories to you. If these books taught you that love is the strongest force in the universe, capable of overcoming anything; if they taught you that strength is found in diversity, and that dogmatic ideas of pureness lead to the oppression of vulnerable groups; if you believe that a particular character is trans, nonbinary, or gender fluid, or that they are gay or bisexual; if you found anything in these stories that resonated with you and helped you at any time in your life — then that is between you and the book that you read, and it is sacred. And in my opinion nobody can touch that. It means to you what it means to you and I hope that these comments will not taint that too much.

Some people are boycotting the Wizarding World in its entirety - some on principle, some because it's too painful to entertain on any level - and I'm not going to tell anyone else what they should or should not do.

I'm doing what my soul longs for, which is a complete rejection of JKR and a reclamation of the parts of something that became irrevocably part of me and on so many levels made my life better. When I look at some of my merch, I get angry, want to give my sweatshirts away...

But when I think about the stories, the lore, the things that I wrote, the things some of my dearest friends wrote, the ideas that have recently percolated in my head? Those still bring me joy. Those still inspire me.

I think Harry Potter should get to belong to us - like Greek and Roman mythology, One Thousand and One Nights, Robin Hood, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

If the Nicean Council got to bastardize/dictate/set the precedent for Christianity, why not us? And if you read down this far and are like, whoa, equating HP to a religion? That's a bit much... well. It was as personal to me as organized religion, which I'm also extricating myself from and have spent the past few years trying do sort out and define my own spirituality after coming to the point that I realized I needed to reject the organization I was born into and raised in.

As I said near the top of this post, I'm not looking for anyone to agree or disagree. I've documented some of what's been in my head and my heart here to sort it out for myself. There may be people out there who are grappling with the complications as much as I am, and so that's why I'm sharing this, but I will not be engaging in any arguments. Full stop.

And this is where I'll leave it.

[hoonvrs]

—And randomly on the same day on the class after lunch break, shes like "hey can I sit in the middle rn if you don't mind'. I just gave up and switched seats zoning out and all. And then she randomly goes "what's up? I can tell you're sad you can tell me" like girl WHAT TF YOU THINK IS UP. Anyways like any other toxic relationship, I have code stuff with my mum I say in calls. So I secretly called her during lunch. On the same period a staff came and told me my mum called home cuz my grandma was sick (w mum I love her). Whatever, during the weekend before this, my mum came home and she was like — "did you know that (let's call her pussy) was changing schools??" I was shook. She got into a military school with links and shit. Apparently, when she went home she was locked in her room and she cried for HOURS upon GODDAMN HOURSSS. Why you may ask? Because she didnt know why I was always so sad in class. She almost refused to get admitted to the new school (which is a REALLY good school, unlike our trash ass one). She almost refused cuz she didn't wanna leave me. I was so confused. I swear she was yapping out shit cuz tf you mean you ain't gonna change schools cuz of me. Anyways yes she gave exams and all skipped school a few days for the exam. And I told her , I was changing schools too. But she was fucking begging on her knees for me to transfer to the school she went too. She only passed cuz she was a goddamn topper. I'm nothing but decent. It's not like I wanted to go either. But all of a sudden, she became really nice. Being all smiley all the time and trying to spend as much time with me as possible. Even spent 3rd of December tgt. She got admitted to the school that day, yes, I went with her. And all of a sudden, we're best buds like we were when we were 6. Honestly idk what happened, but she's completely changed. Not rude at all. We'll still a lil but hey anger issues aren't easy in you. Yes ik you're probably screaming saying I shouldn't stay friends with her. But hey it is my life. I'm happy rn. Really happy. Gave the exam at the new school a week ago. Took pics for my identification card. And I'm all good rn. Ik I'll lose contact with her at some point. But hey I'm feeling good so LETS GOOOOO(2)

Never had better days 😁😁

-🌜(happy moonie)

i mean at the end of the day i’m js a enha writer and my opinion on ur v real life shouldn’t matter too much but i’m happy ur starting to feel a lot better moon🫶🏼 seems like it’ll js keep getting better from here