#why am i already feeling regret this is supposed to be the fun part I hate social anxiety

[iamthekarmapolice]

Social drinking is so fun lol. Basking in the warm glow of feeling like my coworkers actually like me

[jaylalolz]

❛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ❜ p2 . . . charlie mayhew

INNOCENT!reader x PRIEST!charlie 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

PART 1

SUMMARY, after ignoring charlie for a week after the incident, he finally gets her close in the bathroom.

A/N, sorry i took way too long to make a p2. if you want a p3, leave some recommendations of what i should do for that part in my inbox bc i have no idea how to keep it going 😂 anyways, have fun reading, angels. 🪽🪽

WARNINGS, smuttyyyyy

Charlie had noticed the change immediately after their last conversation—the one where Maddy had admitted, with a tremble in her voice, that she had thought about him in ways she knew weren’t right. He had been shocked, then flattered, and finally, filled with guilt after everything. But what troubled him the most was her absence.

For a whole week, Maddy hadn’t spoken to him. She didn’t show up at mass, didn’t linger after church like she usually did. Every time he tried to reach out, she brushed him off with curt messages or avoided him entirely. She wasn’t just distant—she was actively ignoring him.

At first, Charlie tried to give her space, assuming that she needed time to process what had happened between them. But as the days passed, his concern grew. The gnawing guilt inside him—the feeling that maybe he had crossed a line, that maybe he had hurt her more than he realized—began to fester.

It wasn’t until late one evening, after most of the congregation had already left, that Charlie spotted her. Maddy, rushing down the hallway, her face flushed, disappeared into the restroom. The church was quiet, the echoes of footsteps fading, and Charlie hesitated for a moment before following her.

He knocked softly on the bathroom door. “Maddy?”

There was no response, but he heard a faint sniffle, the kind that comes after holding back tears for too long. Charlie’s heart clenched. He hesitated, not wanting to invade her space, but the sound of her pain pushed him forward.

“Maddy, please talk to me,” he said gently. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I can’t help you if you shut me out.”

There was a long pause, and then the door cracked open. Maddy stood there, her eyes red and puffy, but there was something hardened in her expression. She looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally.

“Why do you care so much, Charlie?” she asked, her voice thick with frustration and hurt. “I’m trying to keep my distance, like I’m supposed to. Isn’t that what you want?”

Charlie frowned, stepping closer. “What I want is to understand why you’ve been avoiding me. After everything we talked about, I thought we could work through this together, but you’ve been shutting me out completely.”

Maddy let out a bitter laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Work through this? Charlie, you don’t get it. I’m embarrassed. I told you something I never should have said, something unholy, we did something for which I will never be forgiven. And every time I look at you, I see the judgment in your eyes.”

Charlie’s breath caught in his throat, realizing the depth of her shame. “Maddy, no,” he said, stepping toward her, his voice softening. “There’s no judgment. I promise you that.”

“Then why does it feel like there’s a wall between us now?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Why did it feel like I crossed a line that I can’t uncross?”

Charlie closed his eyes, fighting the turmoil in his chest. He had wrestled with his own guilt all week, and now hearing hers, it was clear they were both lost in their own pain. He opened his eyes and met hers, his gaze steady.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly. “What you told me… it was honest. I do not regret what we did together, i am not ashamed of it.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for any hint of dishonesty. When she didn’t find it, she exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders.

“So, why does it matter so much, Charlie? Why did we both make it feel like the end of the world?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Charlie ran a hand through his hair, taking a breath. “Because it’s hard, Maddy. It’s hard to admit that something’s there, something we both feel but can’t have. It’s hard because I want to help you through this, but I also… I’m fighting the same thoughts, the same distractions.” His confession hung in the air between them, heavy and real.

Maddy’s breath hitched, her eyes widening slightly. “You mean…?”

Charlie nodded, looking down. “I’m not immune to this. But I’m trying to stay strong for both of us. And ignoring me won’t make it go away. We have to figure out how to deal with this together.”

Maddy wiped at her eyes again, this time with less urgency, as if the weight of their shared secret had lightened slightly. “I don’t know how to make it stop,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Neither do I,” Charlie said quietly. “But I can help you, Angel.”

He stepped closer to her, trapping her exit from the restroom. His fingers interlocks with her hair as he pulls a strand behind her ear and grabbed her face and pulled her closer. “Tell me you don’t regret it, please” he says eagerly as he places his forehead on hers.

“Just Let me worship you”

Her head spins from the thousands of negative possibilities but her body just wants to surrender to him.

Without kissing her, he trailed his lips up her curve and exhaled till the heat tingled sensuously across her delicate skin. She closed her eyes, sensing his hands running up her sides over her white button-up blouse. He clasped his hands over the cloth, tracing a line up her hips and down the sides of her chest before finishing at the collar of the weightless material.

He made two hard fists out of the blouse collar and tore it open causing her to gasp in shock as the shirt split open to reveal her white lacy bra.

He turned to face her and grabbed her hips once again, the moment the door was locked. Before her thoughts could register, his lips dropped hungrily to her neck and her back collided with the wall. He brushed his teeth on her flesh right away, pressing his body against her while groaning.

Her hands instinctively gripped his hips, tossing her head to one side. They kissed for a long time, his sensual lips breathing heavily into her neck in between, making her eyes drift close. He thrust forward, bringing his hips to meet hers, offering whatever kind of pleasure he could. Her hands clenched around his hips over his pants, and she let out a sigh of pleasure.His hands trailed down her nude thighs, extending to her behind to seize it above the dress. He pulls her hips against his harder.

"I can't wait to take this dress off you." He graveled.

His words cause her core to ache and she arched her back further off the wall to feel his body against her even more. He takes the motion and decides to just pick her up instead. His hand reaches behind her thighs, where he raises her and surrounds her weak legs around his hips. Her back against the wall as their hips collided, she took a deep breath at the abrupt change.Now at eye level with her, he planted a kiss on her jaw and positioned himself between her legs. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she held him in place. She felt weak as a result of his forceful hip thrust between her legs.

She dug her hands into his hair and let out a cry through a pant. When she pulled it, he gave a grunt. He clamped down harder on her neck, and in response, she let out an uncontrollable whine.

He tightly clamped his teeth into a single area, creating such strong suction that she was certain it would leave a mark. She almost lost consciousness when she separated her lips in response to her aggressive action, arching her back. Feeling him rough on the pale skin, she reflexively jerked her hand to the back of his head. She got mild pain spikes with it, but other than that, it was enjoyable.

She pulled at the roots above his neck, and he whispered into her neck. She knew immediately that he enjoyed it when she yanked his hair. His moan provided the necessary stimulation between her legs. He drags out every motion so that she begs him to keep going.

With her bra and panties on, she arched her back, feeling the tight fit of his jeans pressing on her inner part. she could feel how hard he was becoming quickly, he was absolutely bottled up in those tight jeans. Suddenly, he sets her down on her two feet and goes on his knees. He lanced down at her stomach, licking his lower lip with his tongue before lowering his head to give her abdomen a moist kiss. Her whole body trembled at the light touch.

He reached her panties and raised his head, gazing up into her eyes all the way up her body. Grabbing the edges of her lace panties, he sits up between her legs and pulls it up off her hips and down her thighs right away. She tensed slightly as he took off the final piece of material covering her body. She raised her legs into the air and he pulled the thin material away from her ankles.

He tossed the last piece of clothing to the floor, leaving her completely vulnerable. “Now, you’re gonna be a good girl and stay quiet. we don’t want anyone to hear you”

Just by feeling his tongue running up her center, her stomach lurched and her entire body flexed. He forced his mouth against her tightly and rolled his tongue straight to the cluster of nerves before she could even begin to grasp the strange sensation of his sharp tongue sliding up her slit. "Charlie-" her back curved off the wall before she could even complete her statement.

Without holding back, he went straight into her clit with a wonderful rhythmic roll of his tongue. Her eyes narrowed as she closed them.

Her hips twitched with the intensity of this wild new feeling right away. "Charlie, oh my god," she said, rolling her eyes inside her head. He maintained a death grip on her thighs, keeping them forced open to give him complete access to enjoy her in any way he pleased. She was unable to regulate her sensitivity, and it would make her body twitch.

His wet tongue rolled in the perfect place at different rhythms and at a steady pace, making her experience things She have never felt in her entire life. He just started, and she was unable to catch her breath.Her hands would be death grasping his thick hair right now if she could control them.

He placed her legs over his shoulders, reaching lower and squeezing a firm grasp around her outer thighs and hip bones. With a deep inhale through his nose, he caressed her with his tongue, sending a surge of ecstasy up her neck and into her veins. With a moan, she chokes and throws back her head, putting her legs across his long back.

She wasn't prepared for the kind of pleasure he gave her when he slid his lengthy tongue inside of her and ran it down. He was an expert at what he was doing and was doing it very well. Then the knot in her stomach turned to give her trembling thighs. Before returning to her clit, which she could now feel pulsating, he slid his tongue in and out of her a few times. The pressure burning inside of her intensified as soon as he made touch with it once more.

She flinches and draws in a short breath as he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down on the bundle of nerves. "I need it so bad.. charlie..." She could not be silent in the room; she was a mess of heavy pants. She was unable to stop herself from breathing heavily and was always accompanied by whimpers and whines that were concealed in the back of her throat.

He looks down between them, his ring and middle fingers digging deep into her. He instantly coiled and shoved them at the same moment, making her gasp. She was taken aback by the furious action. He was panting as well, so she arched her back and let out a whimper into the thick air. The two fingers he didn't have rings on, his fingers rocked into her mercilessly.

She let out a cry, tightly clenching her eyelids and contorting her hips. He coiled up and compressed his fingers, striking a sensitive area within her which she had no idea contained so many nerve endings."You're so fucking tight-" In his deep voice, he whispered.

Her legs trembled as she yelled out, “please." "Does that feel good?" He rasps into the burning air while simultaneously caressing her clit with his fingers. Shutting her eyes tightly, she gave a nod. Her stomach felt like it was about to burst; there were no words to express the feelings she was experiencing.

"Do you feel that knot in your stomach, Angel?" He whispered, reading her thoughts.

She groaned and nodded once more, her chest heaving in a need for breath. "Use your words." More forcefully, he remarks, It was so difficult to focus on anything other than the euphoric rush coursing through her blood. “Y-yes." was her stutter.

"I'm adding a third." Before striking a third finger into her, he muttered. She let out a gasp as he pushed past the line, his third finger descending in unison with the other two. She let out a cry, her back automatically arching off the wall.

"Oh my god!" The pressure between her hips immediately increased as the third finger was thrust in, causing her to cry. her body came out in another sweat, her hips suddenly having a mind of their own when they bucked.

He glanced up at her face, saw how shaken she was getting, her legs trembling with her inability to remain silent. He pulled his hand away from her clit and instead brought it up to cover her lips because she was extremely loud. When the build started to get more tense, he began to shove his three fingers deep into her.

"Everyone is right next door." He smirks.

"You can yell into my hand."

With her eyes squeezed shut, she yelled into his big palm that was placed across her mouth. Her back continued to arch off the wall as the condition grew progressively deeper. She felt as though she were on a cloud and was at a loss for words regarding what was occurring to her body.

"Cum for me baby-" He encouraged, drawing his eyes into hers. He knew she was close.

She whimpered into his fingers, her body's gears shifting like a moving train. Her thighs trembled as though she was freezing, her stomach was drawn in, and her chest pumped fiercely. She kept screaming into his palm at the crushing strain that was killing her, and his fingers kept jamming into the same area.

Her entire body was tight; she was too weak to continue in this state for very long. She let out his muffled name in a scream and then abruptly stopped moving. Everything—shaking, arching, breathing—stopped abruptly.

She undid herself on his fingers. She moans at the feeling of emptiness as he pulls away. He puts a kiss on her forehead and adds, "I knew you would be such a good girl for me." She was still trembling from what had happened, so he gently placed her clothing and underwear on her.

She slid to the floor, tears spilling down her cheeks. The shame she felt was suffocating, wrapping itself around her until she could barely breathe.

“Maddy,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She shook her head, wiping at her tears with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her voice broken. “I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know why i’m crying”

Charlie was kneeling beside her before she could finish, his hands gentle as he reached for her. “Maddy, stop,” he murmured. “You don’t have to apologize”

She shook her head, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “It feels wrong, Charlie. All of this. I feel guilty for even wanting this.”

Charlie sighed, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face. “I know. I feel it too. But guilt isn’t going to help either of us right now. We need to be honest with ourselves about what’s happening, and we need to figure out how to move forward.”

Charlie’s thumb gently wiped away one of her tears, his touch comforting but careful.

Maddy closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, even though part of her knew they shouldn’t be this close. But in this moment, she needed the comfort, the reassurance that she wasn’t alone in this guilt. That they would find a way through it, together.

[nameless-ken]

Bucky Barnes x Reader

The Stranger That Knows Me Best is a heartfelt story about connection, vulnerability, and taking chances on the unexpected. Through letters and shared experiences, two introverts discover that sometimes, the person who understands you best is the one you’ve never met.

Word count: 8k

Warnings: none really, mostly fluff and some angst

Masterlist

The first letter arrives on a Monday, stuck between a credit card offer and a pizza coupon. You stare at the plain envelope for a moment, debating whether to open it right away or let it sit on top of the unopened pile stacked up on the kitchen table. Honestly, you wouldn’t even be holding it if Wanda hadn’t forced you to sign up for this pen pal thing.

“It’ll be fun!” she exclaimed as she leaned dramatically across your desk while you tried to study. “You need to talk to someone who’s not me for a change. And how exciting to meet someone across the country!”

You rolled your eyes at her and muttered something about spam emails and book characters being more your speed. But she was insistent. “Imagine it. Getting to know someone without all the noise of social media. Just words. Just paper. It’ll be good for you.”

Now, standing in the kitchen, envelope in hand, you weren’t sure if she’d done you a favor or set you up for the most awkward exchange of your life. The return address displays Brooklyn, New York, in handwriting so neat it almost looks printed.

On the other side of the country, Bucky sits at a worn, small kitchen table in his tiny Brooklyn apartment, mouth turned down at the envelope in his hands. His roommate and best friend, Sam, somehow roped him into this, using every trick in the book to sign him up.

“You’re too serious all the time,” Sam teased. “You need to lighten up, meet new people or at least, like, write to one person.”

“I meet people,” Bucky muttered, already regretting the argument.

Sam laughed. “Right. The way you avoid everyone at parties? Sure, bud.”

And now here he is, a couple of weeks later, holding a letter from some stranger in Oregon and wondering if Sam had a point. Bucky has never been good at opening up, not even with people he knew. The idea of putting his thoughts down on paper for some stranger to read made him uneasy. But at the same time there was a comfort in only writing–no faces, no judgments, just words.

The truth is, Bucky doesn’t have a clue what to say or where to start. He agreed to this so Sam would get off his back about meeting new people. Bucky is tired of the monotonous routine of the same frat parties every week. How is he supposed to get to know someone through blasting music and dozens of beers? He’s never been a fan of crowds or casual conversations. 

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes when Sam showed him the ‘Around The World’ pen pal website. To meet someone genuinely and in the most organic way his social anxiety will let him. 

You sit down at your kitchen table, coffee growing cold as you carefully peel open the envelope. The paper inside is simple, lined like the kind from a spiral notebook. Nothing fancy, just a letter. The words on the page surprisingly feel honest. 

Hey, I’m not sure how to start this. I guess an introduction is a good place? My name’s Bucky. Well, technically, it’s James, but no one calls me that. I signed up for this because a friend of mine said I should give it a shot. I don’t know if I’m good at writing letters, but I figure it can’t hurt to try. So, uh… hi.

Somehow Bucky’s awkward words bring a faint smile to your lips which makes you feel a little less self-conscious about your first letter.

Meanwhile, Bucky unfolds his letter in the quiet of his apartment, reading the loopy handwriting of his mystery pen pal.

Hi, I guess this is the part where I tell you about myself? My name’s Y/N, and I live in Oregon. Honestly, I signed up for this because my best friend wouldn’t let it go. She thought it would be fun, and I figured… why not? So here I am. I’m not sure what else to say yet, but I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, almost smiling. There’s something disarming about the tone, like you are just as uncertain about this as he is.

Neither of you expected much from those first letters, just a few introductory words sent across the miles. But as you sit at your table, thinking about what to write back, you start to feel something you haven’t felt in a long time: curiosity.

And across the country, Bucky feels the same.

Only a week later, the third letter arrives with something extra—a pressed flower, its petals delicate and pale blue. It slips out from the folded paper and lands softly in your lap.

I found this on a walk and thought it was too pretty to leave behind. Don’t ask me what kind it is, I’m terrible at flowers. But it made me think of something you might like.

You smile, gently picking up the flower and holding it up to the light. The sunlight streaming through your living room window turns the petals almost translucent. It feels strange, how something so small can carry so much meaning. In this moment, it wasn’t just a flower, it’s a glimpse into how Bucky sees beauty in the world. 

You tuck the flower carefully into the pages of your journal, pressing it between the lines of a half-finished poem you have been struggling to complete. Somehow, it seems to fit perfectly there, like it has been waiting for you to give it a new story.

You pick up a new blank page, finding yourself writing more freely than you had before. You practically spill out everything you’re thinking at the moment. You tell him about the books piled on your desk, the way your apartment smells like coffee and your favorite hazelnut candle, how the flower petal reminds you of a poem you read recently for class. You include a few lines of said poem on a piece of homemade paper you created a few days ago (a skill you learned from a YouTube video), a small gift in return for his. 

Evening light slants through Bucky’s half closed bedroom window as he opens your next letter. 

A muted tone bookmark slips out first. 

I thought you might need this for all your textbooks. Kinesiology sounds intense, so hopefully this will help keep your place when you’re too tired to keep going.

He turns the bookmark over in his hands, studying the intricate design—a swirl of blues and greens, almost like a wave frozen mid-motion. It’s sturdy, practical, and yet oddly personal in a way that catches him off guard. In both of your previous letters, you learned about each other's majors.

Bucky is studying Kinesiology and you, creative writing and English literature. 

He glances at his own textbooks scattered across his desk, a half-empty mug of tea sitting close to the edge. The long nights spent studying, the endless diagrams of muscles and tendons, the impending need to study for an upcoming test overwhelming his mind. 

He doesn’t say it out loud, but it feels nice to be thought of.

Bucky pulls out the old cigar box he keeps on his bookshelf, the one where he stashes little things that matter—ticket stubs, Polaroids, a dried four-leaf clover. Carefully, he places the bookmark inside, alongside the growing pile of letters.

Later, as he writes his reply, he mentions how the bookmark reminds him of summers at the beach when he was a kid. 

My mom used to drag me and my sister there every weekend. I pretended to hate it, but I think I loved it more than I let on. The waves were calming, you know? Kind of like the way your letter felt. Thanks for that.

He hesitates for a moment before folding the letter, then slips a small photo inside, an old snapshot of his hometown beach at sunset. He doesn’t remember exactly when he took it, but it felt like the right thing to share.

As he seals the envelope, his smile grows. A private gesture that no one else besides Sam usually sees. For the first time in a long time, the act of sharing doesn’t feel so hard.

Did you ever climb trees as a kid? There was this big oak in my backyard growing up. I used to climb all the way to the top, even though my mom always yelled at me for it. There was this one branch that stuck out just right, and I’d sit there for hours. It was the one place I felt like I could breathe.

When you read his words, something clicks in your memory. The reminder of your grandmother’s magnolia tree comes flooding back. Its branches were low and sturdy, perfect for climbing, and the flowers always smelled faintly sweet, even when they were just starting to bloom. That tree had been your secret world, a place where you could escape everything else and just… be.

You respond, telling about your afternoons of sitting in the tree with a journal, scribbling drawings and stories no one else has ever seen. 

It was the first place I felt like I could dream. Funny how trees do that for you too, huh?

Bucky leans back on his couch as he reads about your memory. He hasn’t thought about that tree in years, not since it was cut down after a bad storm. He closes his eyes and tries to remember the texture of the rough bark under his fingers and how the world seemed so small from up there. 

That night, instead of going straight to bed, Bucky finds himself sitting by the window, staring out at the sparse trees lining the streets below. The city doesn’t have the same kind of quiet his backyard had back then, but his memory of that oak tree now feels like it was something he could reach out and touch.

Your conversations about trees continues. In your next letter, you mention how you used to take a backpack filled with snacks and book up into the magnolia tree, like you were setting off for some great adventure. You confess how you fell asleep up there one afternoon and scared your grandmother half to death when she couldn’t find you. 

Bucky’s laughter fills his bedroom as he reads that part, trying to put a face to you as he imagines that scene play out. 

I used to stash stuff up there too. Snacks, comics, even a pair of binoculars I borrowed from my grandpa. It felt like my own little hideout, you know? Like the world couldn’t touch me when I was up there.

As the letters went on, the conversations turned into something deeper. You start talking about the feeling of having a place to escape, a space where the world feels manageable. For Bucky, it used to be the oak tree and now the gym, where he can lose himself in the rhythm of movement and focus. For you, it’s always been words—books, notebooks, even napkins when nothing else was around.

Do you ever feel like you’re still climbing? Like you’re still looking for a branch high enough to sit on, where you can finally just… breathe?

Bucky stares at that question for a long time. 

Yeah. But sometimes I wonder if I’m looking in the wrong places. Maybe the branch isn’t what I need anymore. Maybe it’s just knowing there’s someone out there who gets it.

When you read those words it’s like the miles between you two has gotten a little smaller.

You must write a lot for your classes. Creative writing sounds… intimidating, honestly. I don’t think I could do it. I’m better with structure, you know? I like knowing how things work, how muscles move, how the body functions. It feels concrete, there’s always an answer.

You giggle at his admission. It’s not the first time you’ve heard that writing seems almost impossible to accomplish but to you, it’s almost the easiest but scariest thing in the world. 

Concrete sounds nice.  Writing feels like a brewing storm you can see from hundreds of miles away but as it creeps closer the weight of what to do next has you frozen on the spot. It’s easy in the sense of how subjective it is and everyone always has something to say. The scary part is being brave enough to expel your own thoughts or imagination for the world to have an opinion on.  But I can’t imagine kinesiology being any easier. Do you ever feel like you’re carrying too much? Like the weight of learning all this stuff about the human body just… piles up?

Bucky nods to himself as he reads, his pen pausing above the paper. He hasn’t told anyone, but sometimes, the pressure of being in his program is overwhelming—the constant exams, the endless memorization, the unshakable feeling that one mistake could mean letting someone down in the future.

Yeah, it gets heavy sometimes. But I think about what it’s all for, and it makes it easier to keep going. What about you? What keeps you writing?

When you read his question, you stop to think. What keeps you inspired? The answer seems obvious–it was just something that came naturally to you, from a young age. But the longer you sit and dive deeper into his question, the harder it is to really put it into words. 

Because I don’t know who I am without it.

You didn’t expect those words to carry a weight you didn’t know you have been holding. 

It’s not always easy, though. Writer’s block isn’t some fantastical word people use as an excuse. It’s brutal. Trying to put the right words in the right order drives me crazy most of the time. But even when it’s hard, it’s the only thing that makes me feel like… me, if that makes sense.

Bucky thinks about how he feels when he is at the gym, or working with the human anatomy models in class. He doesn’t always love the grind of school, but there’s something about the act of moving, of learning how things worked, that makes him feel like he is on solid ground. He taps his pen against the table, thinking before continuing his next letter.

That makes a lot of sense, actually. I don’t know if I feel the same way about kinesiology, but I get what you mean about needing something to hold on to. For me, it’s movement. It sounds weird, but when I’m working out or studying how the body works, I don’t feel as… stuck, I guess. Like I’m figuring out the puzzle one piece at a time. And yeah, sometimes the puzzle sucks, but I think that’s just part of it.

He hesitates before adding:

Do you ever feel like writing is your way of figuring yourself out? Like it’s not just about telling a story, but about finding pieces of yourself you didn’t even know were missing?

His question lingers in your mind for days. It isn’t something you’d ever admitted to yourself, let alone anyone else, but he’s right. Writing isn’t just about creating, it’s about uncovering. 

You write back:

All the time. It’s like every time I write something, I leave a little piece of myself on the page, but I also find something new. It’s terrifying sometimes, to feel so exposed, but I think that’s why I can’t stop. It’s the only way I know how to make sense of the world and myself. What about you? Does movement ever feel like that for you? Like it’s not just physical, but… more?

Bucky’s next letter was slower this time, but when it arrives, it’s longer than usual.

Yeah, I think it does. I never thought about it like that before, but now that you mention it, maybe that’s why I’ve always been drawn to it. When I’m moving—running, lifting, even just walking—it’s like the noise in my head quiets down. I don’t have to think about everything all at once. It’s just me and my body, and for a little while, that’s enough.

He pauses, then adds:

I think that’s why I want to help people. I want to give them that same feeling, like they’re not trapped in their bodies, but free because of them. Maybe that’s the piece of myself I’m trying to figure out.

With his next letter, Bucky includes a small, fraying string bracelet. It’s clearly worn from age, some threads are thinner than others, and a few have almost completely unraveled. 

I used to wear this all the time as a kid. It’s nothing special just something a friend gave me back when life was simpler. I don’t know why I’ve kept it all these years, but I figured maybe it’s time it meant something to someone else.

You hold the delicate bracelet, running your fingers over the worn strings. The softness of the fibers and each fray holding a story Bucky hasn’t shared yet. There’s a weight to it, not in size, but in meaning. The way he decided to pass it down to you. It makes you think of the small tokens you’ve saved over the years–notes from old friends, concert tickets, friendship bracelets–those scraps are pieces of who you are, fragments of a past you’ll never be ready to let go of. 

You didn’t want to just thank him for the token. It deserves more than that. 

You decide to package a worn, dog-eared paperback book, edges wrinkled from the years of being opened and reread. It’s one of many copies of Pride & Prejudice you have. The first book that made you fall in love with writing. You can remember all the late nights you spent highlighting lines, making notes in the margins. 

This was the first book that made me want to be a writer. It’s been sitting on my shelf for years, and I think it’s time someone else enjoys it. Maybe it’ll mean something to you too.

You hesitate for a moment, a knot swirling in your stomach. It was something small, seemingly insignificant but also personal. The book was more than a vintage piece of writing. It’s a piece of your past, something that has shaped who you are. 

Bucky opens the package carefully, turning the book over in his hands. It looks like it’s been loved, its pages soft and curling at the corners. He can tell it’s been read over and over again.

He smiles genuinely. He’s never been a huge reader—always preferred the practicality of learning from textbooks or manuals—but this book makes him grateful to have a part of your world that you’re willing to share with him. 

Bucky flips to the first page, the ink of your handwriting spells out a note ‘I hope this means something to you’ 

With a sigh, Bucky carefully places the book beside his bed. He’ll start reading it soon, maybe later tonight. There’s something comforting about knowing that, through these letters and small tokens, you are building something real, something that isn’t defined by distance or time, but by the simple act of sharing.

I’ll start reading it tonight. I can’t promise I’ll be as into it as you are, but I think it already means something to me. That bracelet I sent you, it isn’t just a piece of string. It's a piece of me, one I wasn’t sure how to share until now. I don’t know why I’ve kept it all these years, but I’m glad you’re the one who has it now.

He folds the letter and slips it into the envelope, sealing it with the same quiet smile that has been creeping into his letters more often. 

Over the next few weeks, your letters became less about what you both do in a day and more about the things that have shaped you. Bucky told you about him joining his school's track team and local races all the kids in the neighborhood would have every summer. You told him stories about how you would write stories for your stuffed animals and act them out alone in your childhood room. 

With each letter, it’s become harder to imagine not knowing Bucky, who in so many ways, is still a stranger. But also the one person in the world you feel free enough to share parts of you that you can’t with the closest people you see daily. 

Your heart clenches at Bucky’s next admission:

It’s not that I don’t like people, but it’s like there’s this invisible wall between me and them. Like I’m always watching, but never quite part of it.

You couldn’t write that feeling any better. 

I guess I’ve always been more comfortable in other people’s worlds than my own. Books made sense when nothing else did. I could lose myself in them and forget everything else—even for just a little while.

One day, his letter comes with a sketch tucked between the pages. It’s rough, the kind of drawing someone might do absentmindedly, but it has this subtle energy to it. It’s a street corner in Brooklyn with buildings stacked close together, fire escapes twisting up their sides like veins.

You’d like Brooklyn. There’s something about it, almost restless but steady at the same time. The city’s always moving, but if you look close enough, there are these little pockets of stillness. I think you’d find it inspiring.

You could almost imagine it. The sounds of the city, how different the air might feel. You’ve never been to the east coast. Your finger traces over the sketch, admiring the little piece of Bucky’s city he offers you. 

That night, you feel inspired. You pull out an old journal and try to put words to his drawing. Imagining what Brooklyn must feel like, blending his description with your own ideas. You aren’t sure how cohesive your stream of thoughts are but you don’t take time to edit it. You rip the page out and fold in, slipping it in with your letter. 

When Bucky opens the envelope and finds your poem, he reads it twice, then a third time, trying to imagine his own city through your eyes. You make Brooklyn feel less gray and crowded. As he sits by his favorite coffee shop window, he draws another sketch of what’s in front of him, he even includes a sticker the shop sells. 

Your letters have become a map of sorts. A shared exploration of places neither of you have been to but can picture so vividly because of each other’s words. You print a picture of your favorite spot back home, a cliff overlooking the ocean where you’d sit for hours. 

Writing on the back of the photo: The kind of place that makes you feel small but full of light.

In his reply, Bucky describes a park in his neighborhood where he goes for runs when he needs to clear his head. 

There’s this one bench under an old sycamore tree. Sometimes I stop there and just sit for a while, watching people go by. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s quiet. Peaceful.

With every letter, the walls between you seem to shrink. And yet, there’s still so much you don’t know about each other, so many questions left unspoken, fears left unsaid. Would the connection you’d built survive outside the pages of these letters? Or was it something that only made sense in this space you’d created?

You’re sprawled across the couch in your shared apartment, a blanket draped over your legs as Wanda flips through a magazine on the other end. The soft glow of fairy lights makes the room feel cozy, even as the stack of textbooks and your half-drunk coffee mug on the table scream anything but relaxation.

“You’ve been smiling at that piece of paper for ten minutes,” Wanda says, not even looking up.

You glance down at the letter in your hands, catching yourself before you grin again. “No, I haven’t.”

Wanda raises an eyebrow, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “You totally have. That’s a ‘someone special wrote me something adorable’ smile if I’ve ever seen one.”

“It’s not like that,” you mumble, though your cheeks are already heating up.

Wanda scoots closer, pulling the letter out of your hands before you can stop her. She scans it, her face softening as she reads. “‘You’d like Brooklyn. There’s something about it—restless but steady at the same time.’” She looks up, her expression a mix of curiosity and teasing. “Okay, first of all, swoon. Second, who is this guy, and why haven’t you told me everything about him yet?”

You groan, snatching the letter back and holding it to your chest. “He’s just my pen pal. You know, from that website you made me sign up for.”

“I strongly encouraged you,” Wanda says with a smirk. “And clearly, I was right. You like him.”

“It’s not like that,” you repeat, but even you don't seem to believe your words. “We just… get each other. Like, in a way no one else does. It’s hard to explain.”

Wanda grins, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Oh, it’s not hard at all. You’re totally falling for him.”

You roll your eyes but can’t deny it. Because maybe, she’s right.

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of his bed, the photograph of the cliffside you sent him in his hands. His thumb traces the edges of the picture absently, his eyes fixed on the jagged rocks and the expanse of sky above them. Sam sprawls in the armchair across the room, one foot lazily rests over the armrest. The faint sounds of the video he’s watching on his phone fills the room. 

“Is that the photo your pen pal sent you?” Sam asks, nodding toward it.

Bucky glances up, startled slightly. “Uh, yeah.”

Sam smirks. “You’ve been staring at it for, like, twenty minutes, man. What’s up with that?”

Bucky shrugs, setting it carefully on the nightstand. “She said it’s her favorite spot near where she grew up. Told me she used to sit there when she needed to clear her head. I don’t know—it’s just… personal, you know?”

“Yeah, it sounds like it,” Sam sits up a little. “So, what? You’re into her now?”

“She’s just my pen pal,” Bucky sounds unconvinced by himself. 

Sam laughs, leaning back again. “Don’t even try it. I know that look. It’s the same one you had when you started watching that baking show and tried to convince me it was just for the ‘techniques.’”

Bucky shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s not like that,” he mutters. “She’s just… easy to talk to. Like, I don’t have to explain everything, you know? She just gets it.”

“Yeah, you sound totally detached,” Sam’s grin widens.

Bucky rolls his eyes and tosses a pillow at him. “Shut up, man.”

But as he picks the photo up again, studying the way the sunlight played across the rocks and the faint edge of the ocean in the distance, he knows Sam isn’t entirely wrong.

The next morning, you’re sitting at your desk, chewing on the end of a pen as Wanda brushes her hair in the mirror.

“So, what’s his name?” she asks casually.

“Bucky,” you say before you realize. 

Wanda freezes mid-brush. “Bucky? That’s his real name?”

You laugh, leaning back in your chair. “Technically James but he prefers Bucky.” 

“Okay, first of all, iconic. Second of all, why aren’t you, like, booking a flight to meet him?”

You look at her shocked. “Because that’s not how this works.”

Wanda frowns, turning to face you. “That’s so stupid. What if he’s your soulmate or something?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not that deep.”

But later, as you reread his latest letter, you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to meet in person. 

Meanwhile, Bucky is walking to class with Sam, the book tucked under his arm.

“So what’s her deal?” Sam asks.

“She’s a writer,” Bucky says. “Creative writing and English lit major.”

Sam whistles. “Damn. She sounds deep. You sure you can keep up?”

Bucky smirks. “Shut up. It’s not like that.”

But as he heads into class, flipping open the book to one of your underlined passages, he knows he’s not fooling anyone—not even himself.

I know this pen pal, letter sending thing is supposed to hold some kind of anonymity but sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to meet you. Don’t worry—I’m not suggesting anything crazy. It’s just… you’re such a big part of my life now, and it’s weird to think I wouldn’t even recognize you if I passed you on the street. I’d probably walk right by and never know.

Bucky pauses as he writes his next letter, staring at the words he’s written, debating whether to cross them out. Instead, he adds more

Have you ever thought about it? What would it be like if this wasn’t just on paper?

When you read his words, something inside you shifts. Of course you’ve thought about it too—what his voice sounds like, what kind of expression he wears when he writes to you.

Sometimes, I imagine what it’d be like to meet you too. It feels strange to think about, like breaking some kind of rule we’ve been following for three months. But if I’m honest, yeah, I’ve thought about it. More than once.

You hesitate, chewing on the end of your pen before adding:

What if we start small? Like a phone call? It’s not the same as meeting, but maybe hearing your voice wouldn’t feel so strange. What do you think?

Bucky sits with your letter in his hands, rereading your suggestion. A phone call. He’s thought about hearing your voice before, but seeing it written makes it real in a way he hadn’t expected.

A phone call sounds… terrifying, if I’m honest. But also kind of exciting? I mean, I want to hear what you sound like. I want to know if the way you talk matches the way you write. If you’re sure, let’s do it. Just don’t laugh if I sound awkward—I’m not great at this kind of thing.

You’ve never been good with phone calls. Honestly, you surprised yourself when you offered the suggestion to Bucky along with your phone number. But, knowing that Bucky feels similar, eases some of the nerves. 

When the time comes, you sit on your bed with your phone clutched in your hand, nerves fluttering in your stomach. You exchanged numbers in the last letter, but staring at his name in your contacts feels surreal. After a few deep breaths, you hit the call button.

“Hello?” His voice was quiet, a little hesitant.

“Hi,” you respond, smiling even though he can’t see it. “It’s me.”

Bucky let out a small laugh. “Hey. This is… weird, right?”

“Yeah, but in a good way.” 

There’s a moment of quiet, the kind that might feel awkward with anyone else, but with Bucky, it’s comfortable. Like the pauses in his letters, deliberate and thoughtful, holding space for meaning.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually call,” Bucky admits. “Not that I thought you wouldn’t. I just… I don’t know. It’s different hearing someone’s voice after reading their words for so long.”

“I know what you mean,” you reply, tucking your legs under you. “It feels like meeting you all over again, in a way.”

He hums in agreement, and you try to picture what he looks like by his voice. “So… what’s new?”

You laugh at the simplicity of the question, but it’s grounding in a way. “Not much. I’m still fighting my way through this writing project for class. I swear, my professor has a personal vendetta against me.”

“Or they just know you’re good at it and want to push you,” Bucky offers, his tone lighter now. “You ever think about that?”

You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

“What’s the project about?”

“Character studies,” you reply, leaning back against the pillows. “Creating these detailed backstories for characters we’ve made up. It’s harder than I thought it’d be.”

“I bet you’re great at it,” the sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say softly, caught off guard by his compliment.

Bucky’s sitting on the edge of his bed, phone balanced against his ear, a faint smile tugging at his lips as you tell him story of the stay cat you see everyday on your way home from class. “So, what’s the cat’s name?”

“I don’t know. He’s not mine—he just hangs out around my apartment building. But I’ve been calling him Poe.”

“Poe, like the writer?”

“Exactly.”

“Of course,” Bucky chuckles. “I should’ve guessed.”

“What about you? What’s new in your world?”

“Honestly? Not much. Sam tried to make lasagna last night. I’m pretty sure he invented a new species of food poisoning instead.”

You laugh loudly, the sound hitting a spot in his chest unexpectedly. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” he says, grinning. “I think the smoke alarm’s still traumatized.”

The conversation drifts, covering everything and nothing at once. You talk about your classes, your friends, your routines. He tells you more about his favorite places in Brooklyn, the way the city feels alive even when he feels anything but.

And soon, the nerves melt away completely, replaced by the same ease you’ve always feel through his letters.

“You know,” Bucky says after a long pause, “I think I like this. Talking to you.”

Your heart skips at his words, and you’re grateful he can’t see the flush creeping up your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says simply. “It’s nice. Like… you’re real now. Not just words on a page.”

You smile, staring up at your bedroom ceiling. “I like it too.”

When your call ends two hours later, you sit for a moment, staring at your phone. The world feels quieter, smaller, like it doesn’t quite matter as much.

And on the other side of the country, Bucky feels the same, staring at your name in his recent calls and wonders how someone so many miles away feels closer than ever. 

What started as one phone call quickly became a routine. 

Some nights, you call Bucky while sitting at your desk, the sound of his voice filling the quiet as you work on an assignment. He talks about his latest lecture or the annoying guy in his study group, and you share stories about your professor’s dramatic poetry readings or the characters in the story you were writing.

“You have a nice laugh,” he compliments, during a late-night call. “It’s different than I imagined, but in a good way. I like it.”

“Thanks,” you say with a smile tugging at your lips. “I think you’re the first person to ever say that.”

“Well, I mean it. You have a good laugh. It makes everything sound less… heavy, you know?”

You sit back in your chair, glancing at the screen of your laptop, but your focus is entirely on the phone now. “I guess I could use a little less heaviness. Especially with my current assignment. I swear, my professor’s idea of ‘creativity’ is to make us write the most pretentious stuff imaginable.”

“I think every professor thinks they’re shaping the next great mind,” Bucky states. “Mine’s the same. My last one made us analyze a yoga position and turn it into a thesis. Like, what is this, ‘Kinesiology 101: Zen and the Art of Muscle Movement’?”

You giggle at the absurdity of it. “That’s both weird and kind of genius. Imagine doing that for one of my stories. The whole plot could be a yoga class, but with a secret mystery and forbidden love.”

“Now that’s a story I’d read,” Bucky jokes. “But seriously, I get it. It’s like they try to make everything sound deep and philosophical when sometimes… it’s just about getting through the day.”

“I’ll drink to that,” you agree, tapping your pen against the desk. “But hey, at least we’re doing something we enjoy, right? Writing, studying—whatever it is, it keeps us busy.”

“Yeah, but I think what really keeps me going is knowing that there’s more to it. I’m not just learning about muscles or how to help people move. It’s like a way of understanding how everything fits together—how the body moves, how it heals, and maybe even… why it breaks down in the first place.”

“I get that. For me, it’s the stories. I want to figure out why people do what they do, what drives them. Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to find the puzzle pieces and just waiting to put them together.”

“And when you do?” Bucky wonders, tone softer now.

“When I do…” You trail off, unsure of how to explain the feeling. “I think that’s when everything clicks. Like, the world makes sense, even if just for a moment.”

“I think that’s the best part of what we’re doing,” he adds thoughtfully. “Trying to understand how we all fit together in this world. You know, why we’re here.”

Another comfortable pause stretches between you.

“You know, sometimes I wish I could just leave all the work behind and go somewhere. Take a break from everything, just for a little while. Do something completely different.”

“Yeah, I get that. I think I’d like to go somewhere quiet. Maybe a cabin in the woods, or… a secluded beach. Somewhere I could just… breathe.”

“That sounds perfect,” he agrees. “No expectations. Just… space. Maybe one day we’ll both get to do it.”

You smile at the thought, imagining the peace that comes with leaving everything behind, even if just for a few days. “Maybe one day.”

Even without the ability to see one another, to meet face-to-face, you’ve found a space where you belong, right here with Bucky, in this quiet corner of the world you’ve created together.

The phone calls haven’t replaced the letters; if anything, they made them more special. You still send small items tucked into the envelopes, like pressed flowers you found on a walk or the postcard from a local bookshop with a note scribbled on the back: ‘This place feels like it belongs to you.’

Bucky sends things, too—a tiny seashell he’d found on a rare trip to the beach with Sam, one of his favorite protein bars (“I’m convinced these are the only reason I survive exams”), or a handwritten note on the back of a kinesiology diagram he thought you’d find funny.

I’m glad we started talking on the phone. It’s weird, but I don’t think I realized how much I needed it.

The next time Bucky’s name appears on your phone, you find yourself talking for hours, the way you always do. Bucky tells you about a new project he’s working on for class and you share the struggles of keeping up with your creative writing assignments. You laugh together about how you’ve both procrastinated on something important, even though you know you’re going to pull through in the end.

“You know,” Bucky says, his voice a little softer now, “I never really realized how much I needed to hear from someone like you. It’s just… easy, you know? Talking to you.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. “I feel the same. I didn’t know I could talk to someone this much without feeling like I’m overdoing it.”

There’s a silence for a moment, and then Bucky’s voice comes through, more vulnerable. “Do you ever think about what it’d be like if we could meet in person? Like… I don’t know, maybe take a trip or something?”

Your heart skips a beat. You hadn’t expected the question, but it feels like it’s been lingering there for a while. “Yeah,” you reply slowly. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about what it’d be like to actually meet you. Maybe we could go to that bookshop you told me about, or that café you go to all the time.”

“I think that would be nice,” Bucky agrees, mentally curating a day for you both like it might happen.

You sit on the floor of your room, your textbook open in front of you, but your mind is far away. Wanda, sprawled across your bed, scrolls through her phone.

“So, you’ve been talking to Bucky on the phone a lot lately, huh?” Wanda says casually, glancing down at you.

You look up from your book, the words of your professor blurring in your mind. “Yeah, a lot. Why?”

She raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Because it sounds like you two are practically a thing now. You’re sharing things that nobody else knows, stuff you haven’t even told me, and that’s… kinda big.”

You feel your cheeks warm, but you try to act nonchalant. “It’s just easier, you know? With him, it’s different.”

Wanda leans forward, setting her phone down, her expression turning serious. “So, when are you actually going to see him? I mean, for real, not just through letters and phone calls. You’re both in different states, and I get that it’s complicated, but... aren’t you curious? Don’t you think it’s time to see the real thing?”

There’s a knot in your stomach at the thought of meeting Bucky in person. “I don’t know. It feels so risky. We’ve got this thing, this connection, and I don’t want to mess it up by... meeting and finding out it’s not the same.”

Wanda sits up, her voice soft but insistent. “I get that, but listen to me, this thing you have, it’s real. I can hear it when you talk about him. You don’t have to know everything, but maybe it’s time to take that step. Meet him, see if what you feel is the same in person. If it’s worth it, you’ll know. And if not, you can go back to what you have now. But you won’t know until you try.”

You look down at your hands, the words swirling in your mind. “I don’t know if I can just... show up there, though. What if it’s too much?”

Wanda leans forward, giving you a meaningful look. “You’ll never know unless you do it. And what’s the worst that could happen? You go to Brooklyn, meet up with him, and find out if what you have is more than just letters. If it’s real. You deserve that, okay?”

You bite your lip, thoughts racing. Deep down, you know she’s right. But still, the idea of taking that leap is terrifying.

Bucky leans back against his chair as he closes the kinesiology textbook on the kitchen table. Sam is working on his own assignment, typing away across the table, though his eyes are trained on his friend, the expression on his face full of mischief.

“So, have you talked to her lately?” Sam asks, not looking up from the laptop.

Bucky shrugs, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, we’ve been texting. Calls, too. Same as always.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You sure? ‘Cause every time you pick up that phone, you get this dopey grin on your face. Like, way too much of a dopey grin.”

Bucky shoots him a look, but it’s hard to keep the smile off his face. “Shut up, man. It’s just easier to talk to her than anyone else. She’s cool. It’s... nice.”

Sam stops typing and leans forward, his tone shifting. “Look, Bucky, we’ve been best friends for years, and I can tell there’s something more there. You’ve never talked about anyone like you talk about her. You’ve been sending stuff, taking time to connect with her, and now you’re talking on the phone like you’ve known each other forever. What’s holding you back from making it real?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, clearly wrestling with the idea. “I don’t know. It feels too soon. I’ve only known her for like five months, and I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to be that guy who shows up, and then everything falls apart. What if it’s different in person?”

Sam leans back, crossing his arms. “What if it’s better in person? You’re both out there, being real with each other. But you’re still holding back. Maybe meeting her, seeing her face to face, will show you something you didn’t even realize you needed.”

Bucky looks down at the table, conflicted. “I don’t know, Sam. It’s a lot to ask of her. I don’t want to make things too complicated.”

Sam smirks. “Bucky, she’s probably thinking the same thing. You’ve built something real, and now it’s time to see if it stands up in person. If you really care about her, you should at least give it a shot.”

Sam’s words weigh on him, and he can feel the pull, the desire to take that next step, to finally know what it would be like to stand face to face with you.

“You’re right,” Bucky mutters after a pause, his resolve slowly hardening. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll make it happen.”

Sam grins. “That’s what I like to hear, man. Just don’t wait too long, alright?”

The fall air outside is crisp. You’re favorite time of the year. You sit on your porch swing, finishing up your morning coffee. You’ve been buried in finals for the past few days, and it feels like the weight of them is starting to catch up. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, but you ignore it for the moment, reaching instead for the stack of mail that you checked this morning.

You sift through the usual bills and flyers until something catches your eye—a familiar handwriting. Your heart does a little flip when you recognize Bucky’s name on the envelope. The anticipation surges as you rip it open, the paper inside feeling heavier than usual.

A ticket slips out. A plane ticket to be exact.

You freeze for a moment, not quite able to wrap your mind around what you’re holding. You unfold his letter quickly. 

Y/N, I’m not sure how to even begin this, so I’ll just say it plainly: I’m sending you a plane ticket. I know this is sudden, and I completely understand if you think this is too much or too soon. I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and if it’s not something you’re comfortable with, I won’t be offended in the slightest. It’s a refundable ticket, so no pressure, I promise. But if you’re open to it... I’d love for you to come visit me in Brooklyn. I remember you telling me your Fall break is coming up, and I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I want to show you everything here—the parks, the food spots, the places that always make me feel like I’m home. I’ve even made a little map of things I thought you’d enjoy. It’s not the grandest of plans, but I think it could be a good start. I’m giving you the time to decide, but if you do decide you want to take this leap... I’ll be waiting for you at the arrival gate, next Saturday. I’ll make sure I’m there early, just in case. And if not, I completely understand. You’ve been amazing, and I wouldn’t want to ruin what we’ve got, whatever it is. I hope to see you soon —Bucky

You blink, the words blurring together for a moment. The excitement is a bit overwhelming. He’s giving you space, no pressure, just an invitation. The ticket, the map—he’s really thought all of this through. And the idea of being in Brooklyn, of standing face-to-face with the person who’s been your constant for months now, feels... possible. 

You glance down at the ticket again, your fingers trembling slightly as you trace the flight details.  You take a deep breath, setting the ticket down beside you and run your fingers over the map he made, the carefully marked spots where he hopes to take you. You smile at his gesture. It’s simple, thoughtful... real.

You think of Wanda’s voice, urging you to take the leap.

Are you ready for this?

part two

Thank you so much reading <3 Please let me know what you think and reblogs always help!!

[jaeyunluvbot]

i love you, i'm sorry

this is part one to my series emails i can’t send

note .ᐟ ermmmm so this one is actually based on my kind-of-situationship with my ex bsf and it actually hurt so bad to write so i hope yall enjoy :p

Subject: (no subject) To: (unsent)

Dear Heeseung,

This is so stupid. I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe because I know I can’t say it out loud, not to you. I like this. Whatever this is. It’s fun, it’s easy, and I don’t have to overthink it when I’m with you. But sometimes, I catch myself wishing it were more. And then I remind myself that it’s not. I know we made rules and we both agreed, but I can’t help wanting more. I can’t be the only one feeling this. When you look at me like that, when you stay just a little longer than you should, when you text me first for no reason at all, I wonder if you ever think about it too.

Anyways, I’ll probably never send this, but it feels good to get my feelings out.

Yours,

Y/N

(Draft saved at 2:13 AM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: It’s fine

To: (unsent)

Heeseung,

You didn’t even hesitate. I know we’re not actually together but how could you be so sure in your words? That girl, that gorgeous girl who’s probably a way better fit for you than me, asked if you were seeing anyone and you said no so quickly. Right in front of me too, you didn’t even hesitate. You even laughed, I know it wasn’t personal, but is the idea of us being together so laughable to you? I guess it’s true that you’re not seeing anyone, that you’re not mine. Maybe you never were, but for some reason, I convinced myself we had something real. Maybe you were just afraid to acknowledge it, or maybe you just weren’t ready for something like that. I know now that I was wrong, so why does it feel like I lost something? Anyways, I don’t know what else to say, my feelings are immeasurable and somehow simple at the same time. I know I’m foolish but I’ll always be yours, even if you don’t want me.

Yours,

Y/N

(Draft saved at 11:48 PM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: I don’t know what I was expecting To: (unsent)

Today I asked you if this meant anything to you. You looked at me like I had just said something awful, and I knew at that moment, I had ruined everything. You said it wasn’t supposed to be serious and that we both agreed there would be no feelings involved, but I still fell for you. I suppose it couldn’t be helped. For a moment there, a perfect moment, I thought maybe you’d smile, and tell me you loved me too, that it was ok that I’d fallen for you because you’d fallen for me too. That was stupid of me, I know that now, but at that moment I really thought that all our late night conversations meant something to you. I wish I could hate you, or put you out of my mind, I wish I regretted it. But the worst part is, I don’t. I love you, and I think I’ll always love you, even if you never speak to me again. This is getting really depressing so I’ll leave it here, I just wish I could say this to your face.

Yours,

Y/N

(Draft saved at 3:27 AM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: (no subject) To: (unsent)

It’s been weeks since we’ve talked. I don’t even know why I still write these. Maybe because if I don’t, I’ll say it out loud. And if I say it out loud, it’ll be real. It’ll ruin everything more than I already have. I miss you. I don’t miss the way we ended, or the way you left. But the way you laughed at your own jokes before even finishing them. The way you always sent me songs in the middle of the night. The way you lingered, even when you didn’t have to. I know you don’t miss me, I saw you with that girl yesterday. I know you’ve moved on. But a small part of me hopes you’ll hear a song that reminds you of me and remember that I exist, and that I love you. I would’ve given you all of me, and I like to think, with some time, you could’ve done the same for me. I won’t send this because I know you won’t reply. But I hope, somewhere deep down, you miss me too.

Yours,

Y/N

(Draft saved at 1:04 AM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: I should stop writing these To: (unsent)

It’s been six months. Not that I’m counting or anything. I moved into a new apartment last week. It’s small, but it has these huge windows that let in so much sunlight. You would’ve liked it. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. I don’t really know anymore. I feel like maybe I never knew you. I got a job too. It’s nothing special, but it keeps me busy. That helps. I don’t think about you every day now. Only sometimes. Like when I pass by that convenience store we always went to at 2 AM. Or when someone laughs the way you used to. Or when I hear that one stupid song you kept putting on repeat. It’s funny, we weren’t even together and yet I still feel like maybe I once had a part of you like you had a part of me. I should move on, I think I’m moving on, but sometimes it still hurts. It hurts like it did when you were still here, when we’d spend all night talking and you’d leave in the morning. It’s weird though, the pain is comforting in a way, like a reminder that it was real, that you actually existed in my life. But it’s better now. I’m better now.

Love,

Y/N

(Draft saved at 10:22 PM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: No, but seriously, I should stop To: (unsent)

I ran into Sunghoon today. He asked me how I was doing, and I lied. I told him I was great, just busy and tired from work. He gave me this look, like he knew. We didn’t talk about you. But I could feel it there, hanging between us. You must’ve told them what happened. Or maybe you didn’t say anything at all, and that’s why it feels so much worse. I hate that I’m a stranger to you, someone you kept secret, when all I wanted to do was be with you, to show you that we could work, even if you were scared. I wish I never met you. I wish I didn’t give you the power to hurt me like this. It’s even worse because I know you aren’t doing it on purpose, I know you’re a good person, and that we just weren’t meant to be, but still, I wish I’d never let you in. I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I should stop writing these.

(Draft saved at 12:37 AM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: I think I’m finally okay. 

To: Heeseung.

I don’t know why I’m still writing these. I think it’s just a habit now. It’s weird, when I think about us, it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. It’s like looking at an old photograph, you remember the moment, but it doesn’t feel like you’re living in it anymore. Like some kind of fucked up coping mechanism. The fact that you’ll never see these also helps, I can be honest and say everything I’m feeling, everything I could never tell you, or anyone, for that matter. Anyways, I finally started dating again, and I don’t compare everyone to you. I think that means I’m okay. Or at least, I’m getting there. This will probably be my last time writing one of these, since my therapist told me they weren’t doing me any good, and that I should try to completely stop thinking about you. So I guess this is goodbye, even though you won’t see this, I hope you’re doing well.

Love,

Y/N

(Sent at 1:58 AM)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Subject: I don’t know what to say From: Heeseung

Y/N,

I don’t know if you meant to send that. But thank you. I think I’ve read it a hundred times already. I keep wondering if you wrote it in a moment of weakness or if you’ve been holding onto those words for a while. Either way, I don’t think I deserve them. I don’t think I deserve to know how you’re doing. But I’ve wanted to ask for so long. I wish I could say I’ve been okay too. That I’ve moved on the way you have. But the truth is, I still find you in the smallest things. The songs I skip on my playlist because they don’t sound the same without you humming along. The space in my bed that’s too big now, even though you were never supposed to stay the night. The way I feel when I catch a glimpse of a girl who looks like you in public. I’ve told myself a thousand times that we weren’t meant to last. That what we had was temporary, built on borrowed time, that we were never serious, never real. But it never felt temporary to me. Not really. I guess I was scared, scared to let you in, and scared to get hurt. I thought that if I never let you get too close, it wouldn’t hurt as much when we inevitably fell apart. I was wrong. I should’ve let you in, I should’ve shared myself with you like you did with me. I regret it everyday. I should’ve reached out and said something, or I should’ve just been honest from the start. But it’s too late now, you’ve moved on, and I guess I have to as well. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Maybe I just miss you. Maybe I always have. Take care of yourself, okay? I hope you find happiness in someone who’s not afraid to love you openly.

Yours,

Heeseung

(Sent at 8:21 AM)

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

The Wizard of Wolff

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summery: As Halloween approaches, Y/n convinces her reluctant husband, Toto Wolff, to a hilarious dog costume as her sidekick Toto while she embraces her role as Dorothy, leading to a night filled with laughter and unexpected fame

______________________________________________________________

It was a few weeks before Halloween, and Y/n was in full preparation mode. Halloween was her absolute favorite holiday—everything from spooky decorations to haunted houses, but especially the costumes. Every year, she went all out, carefully planning her outfits and crafting the perfect look. Toto, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less about the whole affair. He loathed dressing up, always feeling awkward and out of place at costume parties. But for Y/n, he’d bite the bullet, year after year, because he could never say no to the woman he adored.

This year, they had been invited to an exclusive Halloween party hosted by one of Monaco’s elite, where the guest list included celebrities, socialites, and their closest friends. Y/n was thrilled about the event, scrolling through costume ideas while sipping her morning coffee. Toto, however, was far less enthusiastic, already dreading whatever outrageous outfit Y/n would come up with this time.

As he wandered into the living room, towel slung over his shoulder after a morning workout, Y/n looked up from her phone with an excited grin.

"Toto, I’ve found it!" she said, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Found what?" he asked, already a little suspicious. He knew that tone.

"Our Halloween costumes!" she exclaimed, holding up her phone to show him an image of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz. "I’m going to be Dorothy—blue dress, ruby slippers, the whole deal."

Toto leaned in, glancing at the photo. "I see. So what am I supposed to be? The Tin Man?"

Y/n bit her lip, trying to stifle her giggles. "Nope. You’re going to be Toto!"

He blinked, staring at her as if she had spoken a foreign language. "Wait… What? You want me to be a dog?"

She burst out laughing, unable to contain herself anymore. "Yes! You’ll be my adorable little dog, Toto!" She swiped to the next photo on her phone—a fluffy brown dog costume complete with floppy ears, a furry tail, and even a leash. "Isn’t it perfect?"

Toto shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. "You’ve got to be kidding me. You want me, a grown man, to wear dog ears and follow you around on a leash?"

Y/n was practically tearing up from laughter at this point, barely able to respond. "Yes! You’ll be the cutest little Toto ever!"

He couldn’t help but laugh along with her, though he still found the idea utterly ridiculous. "Y/n, I’m 6’5". No one is going to mistake me for a dog. If anything, they’ll think I’m a wolf."

Without missing a beat, Y/n leaned in closer, eyes twinkling. "Well, that’s the genius part. When you’re alone, you can be Wolff with your last name, but when you’re with me, you’re Toto with your first name." She paused for dramatic effect. "Two costumes in one!"

Toto laughed, shaking his head as he sat down beside her. "So you’re saying I have no escape from this, either way?"

"Exactly," she said triumphantly, moving closer and wrapping her arms around him. "But think about it—it’s going to be hilarious. And besides, everyone will be focused on me as Dorothy. You just have to play the sidekick."

Toto let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the couch. "I’m really going to regret this, aren’t I?"

"Nope," she said with a playful grin, kissing him on the cheek. "You’re going to have fun, and deep down, you know you love it when we do these things together."

He looked down at her, his soft smile betraying any annoyance he might have tried to muster. "I only do this for you, Y/n."

"And that’s why I love you," she said, pecking him on the lips. "Because deep down, you’re a big softie."

Toto chuckled, pulling her closer. "I must be, if I’m agreeing to this."

The next few days flew by as Y/n excitedly prepped for the party. She ordered her Dorothy costume—a cute but modern twist on the classic look, complete with the iconic blue gingham dress, ruby red heels, and even a wicker basket with a stuffed animal Toto inside, just for good measure. She also picked out Toto’s "dog" costume, adding her own little touches to make it as humorous as possible.

When the night of the party arrived, Y/n was bouncing around their bedroom, getting ready. She zipped up her dress, twirling in front of the mirror, admiring the way it flared around her hips.

"How do I look?" she asked, turning to Toto with a dazzling smile.

Toto stood leaning against the doorframe, already dressed in his "Toto the Dog" costume. He looked utterly ridiculous, standing at his full height in the floppy ears and dog tail, but Y/n couldn’t have been more pleased.

"You look beautiful," he said with a smirk, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm. "And I look like a complete fool."

Y/n burst out laughing again. "You look adorable! Come here." She walked over, adjusting the ears on his head and smoothing down the furry tail. "There. Perfect."

Toto sighed, running a hand over his face. "I still can’t believe I’m doing this."

Y/n grinned mischievously, looping her arm through his. "You’ll survive. And trust me, once people see us together, they’re going to love it. Besides, who doesn’t want to see the famous Toto Wolff in a dog costume?"

They made their way to the party, the night buzzing with excitement. As expected, when they entered, heads turned, and a wave of laughter followed them through the crowd. People were in awe of Y/n’s flawless Dorothy look, but the sight of Toto in his ridiculous dog outfit stole the show. Friends and fellow party-goers couldn’t stop making jokes about how fitting it was for him to be a "wolff in dog’s clothing."

And just as Y/n predicted, when Toto was alone, people couldn’t help but comment on his name.

"You’re not even trying, are you?" one guest teased.

Toto simply smiled, raising an eyebrow. "It’s a costume that works on multiple levels."

But whenever Y/n was by his side, they quickly became the highlight of the night—the most talked-about couple at the party. And while Toto rolled his eyes and grumbled about how much he hated Halloween, deep down, he loved seeing Y/n so happy. Her laughter, the way her face lit up when they joked together, made every minute of this ridiculous night worth it.

As they danced together later that evening, Y/n leaned into him, her arms wrapped around his neck. "See? I told you it would be fun."

Toto smiled down at her, his love for her far outweighing any embarrassment he might have felt. "You were right. But don’t get used to it. Next year, I’m picking the costume."

Y/n grinned mischievously. "We’ll see about that."

[nickfurysrighteye]

Practise?

chase davenport x reader

summary: the school's gonna do a play and it's gonna be Romeo and Juliet. Chase was supposed to help with the behind the scenes but instead he gets to play Romeo, and you, Juliet, offer him some help with his lines..

cw: sfw, kissing, that's it i think

a/n: this is my first time writing for this fandom and also my first time making my writing public so please be kind :') ...i haven't written any type of fanfic in a veeeery long time. this is just for fun!!!

"Seriously?! I can't believe it!"

Janelle yells storming into the gym. Everybody stops what they're doing to look at her puzzled. This year Mission Creek High decided to organize a play and upon a great request it was decided to stage 'Romeo and Juliet'. Janelle volunteered to direct the entire planning of it.

"Our Romeo decided it was a great time to break his arm, therefore we don't have a Romeo anymore!" she says walking towards Leo, who's busy painting the fake wooden balcony. Leo decided to take part in the production only to have an excuse to be with Janelle, and doing so he dragged Chase along, just to have some company.

A few people gather around to see what was going on, you take your eyes off the script you were revising to look at your classmates on the opposite site of the room.

"So? What's the big deal?" says Leo "The understudy can take his place."

"The big deal is we don't have an understudy! We barely have enough people working on this play, do you really think we have extras?" Janelle is furious.

"Why don't we pick somebody from the crew?" you barge into the conversation, feeling the eyes of everyone onto you "I mean, it's not like we have time to redo auditions.."

Everybody is silent, eyes going left and right scanning the room for someone brave enough to take on one of the leading roles. You look behind Leo's shoulder "I bet Chase could do it."

Chase was surprised and slightly confused by your statement "Me? But I'm not an actor." he says, struggling to speak loud enough to be heard.

"Neither am I, and neither is everyone else..this is a high school play not Broadway, no of us are actors." you shrug while looking over to the brown haired boy.

Janelle looks over to him "Chase, do you think you could do it? You'd be a life saver, honestly." you could hear the tension in her voice from all the stress the planning brought her.

"I-i mean, sure I could give it a try" Chase tried so hard to sound confident in his choice but you could hear the slight tremor in his tone.

"Perfect, problem solved!" Janelle said.

Once everyone got back to work you get closer to Chase, "If you want we can practise the lines together, I could also give you some tips."

"Sure, I'd love that." Chase says with a sweet, soft smile. "Cool, you can stop by at my house today if that's ok." you smile back

"Yeah, sure, I'll see you later."

-

After school, the two brothers head to the lab and Chase is panicking, regretting the choice he made earlier that day. "Why would I agree to do something like this?! Why didn't you stop me Leo?! This is going to be a disaster! The play's gonna suck!" he spits out the words so quickly he can barely keep up with his thoughts.

"Chase chill out! You'll be fine, like Y/n said no one here's an actor, you're all gonna suck" Leo's already tired of his complaining.

Chase's worry isn't only his acting, but the fact he's gonna be the lead in a romantic play with you as his love interest. He's also terrified by the idea of having to kiss you multiple times on stage, in front of a ton of people. This is stressing him out way more than anticipated.

He already knew who you were long before taking part in this project. He saw you walk around the halls, he saw you sitting a couple of desks in front of him in some classes you have together. He always thought about you as the pretty girl he would only talk to in his imagination. Nobody could have predicted the two of you acting as lovers in a school play. Certainly not Chase.

-

With his heart beating out of his chest, Chase knocks on your front door. You open the door and invite him in. "We can go upstairs in my room" you say, guiding him upstairs.

You go through the script together, focusing on the more difficult parts to memorize. You're suprised Chase could memorize all these lines so quickly, and he's getting better at getting into character.

He says every line with the right feeling, you two work in harmony, it's like you're no longer acting as the characters but are living the story as yourselves.

"You're quite talented you know that Chase?" you smile

"Thanks, I'm actually a bit nervous if I'm being honest." he chuckes while lowering his eyes, looking at his fingers fidgeting with the corner of the script's page.

"How come? You're doing great." you tilt you're head slightly. You sit on your bed, taking a small break.

He shrugs, sitting down beside you "I don't know, I just am" he mumbles.

You stare at him with a soft gaze, you study his expression, you're lightly mesmerized by the way the light beam from the setting sun is hitting his face, shining through your window. His eyes now being a warmer hazel tone.

He can hear the beat of his heart in his ears "Actually, I'm scared 'cause --" he stops "I'm worried about our kiss."

"Our kiss?"

"Yeah, it scares me a little having to kiss in front of an audience."

"It's gonna be a quick kiss don't worry about it."

"I know, it's just that --" he looks down again "I've never done it before."

"You've never kissed anyone?" you say, the slight surprise in your voice makes him feel even worse now.

"It's fine Chase, I get it. There's no need to be ashamed of it." you try to reassure him. "Wanna practise?"

"The kiss?" he looks at you.

"Yeah, I mean, we probably should anyway since it's part of the play." you say, standing up and placing yourself in front of him like you would be on stage.

"Yeah, ok, that's..a good idea" he stands up as well. Chase tries to hide his uncertainty.

"You sure about this?" you ask, you don't want to pressure him.

"A hundred percent" he's anxious, he's rubbing subtly his hands on his jeans because they're starting to sweat, his knees get weaker and he hopes they'll be strong enough to support him.

"Ok now, just follow my lead." you take his hand, leaning nearer. Your other hand cupping his cheek, your lips are now inches apart. Your touch feels warm on his skin, making him breathe faster.

"Close your eyes." as he does so, your place your lips onto his gently, and start to slowly and softly kiss him.

A warm feeling of joy starts to bubble up in his chest as he copies your movements and picks up the pace. The kiss gets more intense, more impatient as he tastes your lips. You get closer and your hand that was on his cheek is now on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers with his hair. His hands start to move, although he's still unsure of what to do.

You stop for a brief moment. "It's ok if you wanna touch me, y'know." Chase laughs a little, he then places his hands on your sides, sliding them down to your waste. He grabs a little harder and pull you into another kiss, this time greedier, messier.

He didn't think it would feel this good kissing you, his heart is racing so fast you could probably hear it. Your lips are exploring eachother, you're both enjoying this much more than you should be. After a few moments Chase decides to wet your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, you part your lips a bit and he slips part of his tongue in. The feeling of your tongues tasting eachother sends shivers down your spine, you feel your cheeks getting warmer.

"You taste amazing" he blurs out the moment he stops to catch his breath, then he pulls you again into another kiss. His words make you melt.

Chase has lost track of time. Actually he has lost track of anything, he can only feel you. Your lips, your tongue, your taste, the sweet smell of your perfume and the warmth of your body standing so close to his. A few moments pass and you pull away to catch your breath, your faces still close to eachother.

"Was i good?" his question makes you chuckle.

"Yeah, you were. You know the kiss isn't supposed to last this long though, right?"

"Sorry i got a bit carried away." Chase laughs a little. You smile softly, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

"I don't think you're gonna have problems on stage, Chase"

"Although we should probably get back to revising the lines"

"We should, but after we're done we should go back to the kissing part, just to be sure"

[askchuuyanakahara]

@fictional-men-especially-chuuya

(I'm gonna answer this ask in parts as it's quite long! I'll be putting my response under the read more:

(Hii!! I just wanted to say, when i first saw a post on this, (the most recent one), i was obsessed already! And since it was the first one that i saw, i thought, "i HAVE to know the backstory and binge read it from the start" and so i did! I love your art and everything so much, your storytelling, how you incorporate the asks into the storyline, you even reblogged the explanation of anon! (I js found out what that was) and i love how interactive you are, with your fans.. I cant believe id found a creator so........ AMAZING?! i dont know.. No words can seem to describe what i think of you. Youre amazing. I binge read from the bottom up, heh.. I didn't see the pinned post. But i dont regret it.

Hello!!! I'm so glad you like this blog! I started this blog as just a silly little rp blog for Chuuya but it quickly turned more story based as time went on haha! I've been making different askblogs since around 2017 and I don't think anyone knows my old blogs (which I think still exist, I just don't have the login anymore lol!) but I hope I am able to keep up this one for as long as I can.

Having someone like yourself, interacting and responding, is honestly the lifeline for these sorts of blogs so I really appreciate the interaction!

Plus, I am always an advocate for drawn rp askblogs as they were popular around 2016 but slowly disappeared overtime. I always seem to join things a little bit too late haha!

Since i also got to read the "#modask" ones, and got updated on your life. I hope youre doing really well today.. And im sorry for practically spamming your inbox notifications... I couldn't help. Youre amazing, and i love that. You make others smile, including me. I had jst finished reading angsty stuff and your au healed me sm.. Youre really inclusive, and help some other's voice get heard.. I also love how, youre the only artist i know that can keep chuuya from being ooc or fanon even though you took away his tendencies to swear.. Istg, thats a SKILL. I can NEVER dream of doing that..

I totally don't mind you writing into my askbox! I love recieving asks and seeing the little number pop up next to the inbox button makes me happy. It certainly makes me feel more human to recieve asks that ask about me as it's sometimes quite difficult to get people to care about the artist rather than the fanart, (although I am trying to do more original stuff) but I totally understand why this happens.

I'm not very good at writing angsty stuff but if I do, it'll have to be a combination of 'hurt/comfort' or 'angst with a happy ending'. Seeing happy stuff makes people happy, after all haha! (Plus, I'd love to be an animator for kids media so I suppose it makes sense I like more happy stuff than sad lol!)

It's always a bit finicky to balance between canon and fanon behaviour, especially for situations which clearly would never happen in canon. But I always try to think about how my Chuuya would act, rather than use other peoples' opinions. It makes it easier to be a bit more consistent that way (and you can always convey a message without the use of swearing! Not that swearing is a bad thing, I just personally try and not swear myself haha!).

Sigh.. I hope youre doing well, and you know that all of us love you. Take frequent breaks to rest, and stay hydrated. This is supposed to be fun, and not stressful. So dont be pressured to post everyday. We'll wait for you no matter how long you disappear for breaks, for holidays, for family, for work, and especially for yourself and your mental health. This message is really long, so i dont really expect you to... Err.. Read all this. But I'd be really grateful if you did. I feel like reading the comments and questions, youre not told enough how much you are loved and appreciated by strangers online. Heh.. When i phrase it like that it sounds rlly weirs lol.. But anyways, youre popular, and you deserve it. Although, youre not popular enough. You deserve so much more for making people smile. Its strange, a random stranger on the internet just.... Telling you how much she loves you. I love you so much, your art, you make me appreciate small things, because even just the tags, sometimes it makes me laugh. Sorry if i ever said anything offensive, or mean, when i commented. I hope youre doing well, your family's doing well, your friends, your job, your.. Pets(?) If you have any, and especially i hope your social life and mental health is good, or gets better. Im sorry if i come off as a weird and obsessed fan, but i just felt like i wanted to tell you what i felt. Thank you, for this... Sorry for the long note, sorry for the notif spam, and everything. Make sure to stay hydrated, have a healthy schedule, and not feel pressured by us. Ok? Thanks! We love you. And so does the fandom. Youre not just some outsideoutsider because you love slice of lives instead of slicing lives, or fluff over angst, believe me, we're a cornerstone of the fandom.

Thank you. Genuinely thank you for the kind message. I'm certainly not forcing myself to release updates so that this blog doesn't feel like some chore I need to complete and I really appeciate the fact that you are willing to wait for me. I also understand that you put in time and effort to send this message to me so I'm definitely going to put time and effort to reply to you!

Work has made me quite anxious and a bit depressed which has dampened my motivation to draw. But knowing that people are looking forward to the next update motivates me to continue working on this blog.

I don't think anyone has been particularly rude or offensive on this blog and honestly, sometimes things just come off a bit different than what you were expecting (especially on the internet!) so I try and not assume someone is a rude individual from the get go. But, I'm glad everyone here has been kind and understanding, it's made running the blog very enjoyable. Plus, I don't think this blog is popular enough at all to recieve rude comments haha!

With the BSD fandom, it tends to be full of theorists and writers (which makes sense lol) but it's nice to see that there's a place for me to write my silly little insignificant stories too. I've struggled with keeping up with the manga but that shouldn't be an issue for this blog as it's not really following canon at all.

And i cant wait to wish chuuya his birthday this month, and i cant wait to wish yours in june/july (sorry i forgot if it was 28 jne or 28 jly) and i also cant wait for updates or where this fic (?) Is going! Please do take care, for the last time, and stay healthy, mentally, and physically. *hugs you* and heres a little gift for you! 🫴🎁→🍪🍪🍪🍫🍫🍬🍬🍭🍩🍵🥐🌷🌸🌸🌼🌻🦋🦋🦋📱💻 And a little note 🫴✉️→✨✨✨ "get glitter bombed! And hehe. ❤ from 🇲🇾" And a boquet! like the one Dazai gave our little fashion icon in denial! 💐💐💐 or three.. Heh.. Anyways, its too long now. Love you, Hugs and forehead kisses and headpats for the amazing person behind the screen, byeee I'll be sure to ask more questions for chuuya!! <3)

I am also excited to see all the fun fics and artwork that'll be released for Chuuya's birthday! I hope I can create something for his birthday, even if it's not a big piece or anything.

My birthday is July 28th and I'm surprised you remember the day! It's a small thing but it makes me happy that you remember.

Thank you for all the gifts, flowers, and glitter and I hope you have a good day! Hopefully my response is understandable and readable (as there is a lot of text on screen and I rambled a LOT) and I thank you for asking Chuuya questions.

I hope that you, and anyone else who has somehow read this far, stay happy and healthy.)

[battledroidwrites]

A Goodbye to The Bad Batch

I don’t even know what to say first. Because this is goodbye, but it is also everything but. But I suppose I should start at the beginning.

Just a couple of years ago I found my love for Star Wars. My entire life, as far back as I can remember, my dad has tried to get me into the fandom. Now, he’s not a fan the exact same way some of us are, he’d only watched the saga and the Mandalorian, funnily enough I was the one to introduce him to The Clone Wars and beyond, but it’s been a joy in his life for a very long time. I was never interested in it when I was little, but then I got a little older and Star Wars started to capture my interest.

One random weekend, I believe in 2021 or 2022, I decided that I was going to watch all nine saga movies in those forty-eight hours, and then start on my goal to watch every show and the additional movies.

This is, without a shred of doubt, one of the greatest decisions I have ever made, and one that I will never regret. I would not be the person I am had I not given Star Wars a chance.

It would sound ridiculous to anyone anywhere else, but this has become such a safe place for me that I know I can be honest.

Everyone finds that one thing that makes them happy like nothing else. A person, a hobby, a place, a fandom. Mine is the galaxy far, far away that lets me escape from my life whenever I need to.

The Star Wars fandom has its faults, and there is so much hatred.

But more than anything, there is love like no love I have ever experienced before. The love between fans and our love for these movies and shows is something I never expected to have in my life. But somehow, for some reason, it has all found a permanent place in my heart, and I couldn’t be happier.

At this time, the first season of The Bad Batch had just been released. I was branching out, watching The Clone Wars and then jumping to The Book of Boba Fett, though I’m not sure why I chose to watch everything in such a completely random order.

But then I started The Bad Batch.

I had no idea what Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, and Omega would come to mean to me.

I have dealt with a lot in the last few years. Nothing compared to others, but depression finds a way to wedge into your life. I love to be alone, but I don’t like to be lonely, and I have managed to isolate myself to a point of misery.

I found more comfort in The Bad Batch than anything else in my life, and I will never forget the joy The Bad Batch brought me in these last few years.

I began to write when I found Star Wars, and I was inspired to do so by The Bad Batch. Before, I had never felt so compelled by any one piece of media to add my own part of it to the world, until this. Writing has become another escape, one that gives me an outlet to continue the stories of characters left behind.

What I already knew has been reaffirmed, the lessons I have learned remain with me, and will even after this is over.

That it’s okay to feel afraid, because everyone does, and to make mistakes, provided you learn from them.

That feeling out of place for one reason or another does not make you unworthy of love, and having limitations with affection isn’t something you need to apologize for.

That being goofy, having fun, finding joy in the dark places, is just as vital a part of life as anything else, if not what we need more than anything.

That taking time for yourself, to make sure you don’t fall apart, even while taking care of others, is important.

That our worst moments can be one of two things, what consumes us, or what we grow from.

That being a young woman is not a detriment to your worth, intelligence, talent, or any other aspect of life, but is in fact what makes you strongest.

That what makes us unique and our faults are a part of who we are, but they do not define us, and we are so much more than the ideas people have of us.

My only regret is not making friends when I had the chance. I’m bad at that, opening up and putting myself out there, and I shy away from talking to new people because it makes me uncomfortable. But I wish I had been able to put that aside before it was too late and found people who love The Bad Batch the way I do to continue talking to, even after the show ends.

But to all the people who have supported me and who I have supported, thank you for being part of my Bad Batch experience.

It's very difficult to believe that this is it.

Though The Bad Batch has not been around long, it feels like it has, because as long as I have been watching Star Wars, The Bad Batch has been in its active run, and I’m so grateful I got to be here when it was.

I know that even when the credits roll for the final time, when the greater fandom forgets the show that they never really understood the way we have, I’ll be here, and hopefully, so will all of you. I think that the family brought together by The Bad Batch will endure, even if we go quiet for a while.

We’ll stick around, for the day the Batch comes back. Because I know they will.

Thank you Clone Force 99, the Bad Batch fandom, Dee Bradley Baker, Michelle Ang, the Kiners, and everybody who played a part in telling this story.

The impact The Bad Batch has had on my life has been profound, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. It’s been a wild ride, and I have enjoyed every second of it. It has been a privilege to be a part of this piece in the ever growing history that makes up Star Wars.

Goodbye, Bad Batch. Until next time.

“Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.”

[arc852]

19. Out of Reach

Definition: outside the distance to which someone can stretch out their hand.

Summary: Jimmy and Joel have been playing a 'game' for a while now. Jimmy would try his very best to not get caught while Joel was the one who tried to catch him. For Joel, it was fun. For Jimmy? It was terrifying.

G/t: Joel is normal-sized, Jimmy is a borrower

Warnings: Fear and feeling helpless and trapped

Word Count: 1843

AO3 Link

Okay, I just finished this one yesterday and its already become one of my favorites. I really love how this one came out.

Oh and before there is any confusion, this is not part of the BBBCAU. This takes place in a completely seperate universe.

I hope you guys enjoy!

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 Jimmy ran up the length of his string as fast as he could. He hadn’t expected Joel to get home so early but there he was, at the door and hurriedly trying to take his shoes off so he could run and try to catch Jimmy. Fortunately for the borrower, Jimmy made it up to the shelf with plenty of time.

 Joel finished yanking off his shoes and ran over to said shelf. He reached up on his tippy toes but his hand only reached the very front of the shelf. Jimmy’s breath hitched at the sight of the hand so close. He further pressed himself against the wall, thankful Joel wasn’t any taller. He heard the human huff.

 “What, are you pressed up all the way back towards the wall?” Joel asked, still trying to reach out his fingers to try and grab a hold of Jimmy. But Jimmy wasn’t moving.

 “...Yes.” Jimmy answered after a moment of hesitation. He wasn’t sure when it had started but he had started speaking back to Joel at some point during this whole thing. Joel had been surprised at first but Jimmy talking had just seemed to motivate him more in trying to catch him. Jimmy sort of regretted speaking because of that but he couldn't take it back. “Of course I am.” He added, because why would he put himself so close to the edge like that?

 Joel sighed and then his hand left the shelf. Jimmy let out a small sigh of relief himself. “Well, you’re lucky I don’t have a stepladder or anything. Though I suppose if I did have one you would be back in the walls before I could come back with it, huh?” Joel laughed at that. “Oh well, I guess you win this one. But you’re bound to make a mistake sooner or later, and when you do, it’ll finally be my turn to win.”

 Jimmy shivered at that. That was the last thing he wanted, for Joel to ‘win’. He had no clue what Joel’s plans were for if he ever did end up catching Jimmy, but Jimmy was determined to not find out.

 Joel’s footsteps retreated and Jimmy raised his head a little to see Joel sit himself down on the couch and take out his phone. Jimmy bit his lip, realizing the predicament he put himself in. There was no entrance into the walls up here, the closest ones were down below and in the kitchen. And with Joel staying in the living room, Jimmy was essentially trapped.

 It was fine though. All Jimmy had to do was wait for Joel to leave and then Jimmy could climb back down and head back home. Joel probably thought Jimmy was already back in the walls anyway. It would be fine.

 Except, Joel continued to stay in sight of the shelf. At one point he went into the kitchen but even from the kitchen Joel would be able to see Jimmy trying to leave. It had already been a couple of hours, why wasn’t Joel going to his room yet?

 Jimmy took a deep breath. It would be fine, he could stay here as long as he needed to. He might have to wait for Joel to head to bed but that was fine. Just as long as he wasn’t caught.

 But Jimmy hadn’t expected Joel to, at some point, glance up at the shelf again and be able to see him from where he was on the couch. Joel’s eyes widened and he stood up. “Jimmy? Are you still there?”

 Jimmy thought about staying quiet but then his eyes locked with Joel’s and he knew it was useless anyway. “M-Maybe I am, what about it?”

 Joel tilted his head and crossed his arms. “You’re usually back in the walls by now. So what…wait.” Joel’s eyes filled with a sudden realization. “You don’t have an entrance up there, do you?”

 No, no, no, no, no! Joel wasn’t supposed to realize that. “N-No, I do, I just-” Joel cut him off as a smile spread across the human’s face.

 “You totally don’t. Otherwise you would be long gone by now. Oh this is great.” Joel plopped back onto the couch, keeping an eye on the shelf. “Looks like my win is finally within reach.”

 Another shiver ran across Jimmy’s spine. He couldn’t get caught. “You’ll have to go to bed at some point.” Jimmy said, trying his hardest to keep the shakiness out. “I have a lot of patience.”

 Joel chuckled, making himself comfortable on the couch. “So do I. At least when it comes to this. I’m not planning on going to bed anytime soon.”

 Jimmy brought his knees to his chest and buried his face in them. He had to hope that he could wait Joel out. That Joel will go to bed or even end up falling asleep on the couch, either one worked. He just had to wait some more. He could do that. He had to do that.

 And so, both human and borrower waited. Joel spent most of his time on his phone, while Jimmy sat there just trying not to panic too much. At some point, Joel’s phone died and he sighed but pocketed it and glanced at the time. It was already well past when Joel usually went to bed and Jimmy was as stubborn as always. Joel huffed and looked back up at the shelf. He could just barely make out Jimmy’s figure in the way back.

 “Come on.” Joel finally said, breaking the silence. Jimmy jumped, startled by the sudden voice. “You gotta be tired or hungry or whatever by now, just come down already.”

 Joel was starting to sound frustrated, which was not a good thing for Jimmy. “Not going to happen Joel.”

 Joel groaned and threw his head back against the couch. “You really don’t want me to win that badly? It’s getting a bit ridiculous.” 

 Something in Jimmy broke at that. “Of course I don’t!” He shouted, his voice far louder than Joel had ever heard it. It made Joel sit up at full attention, eyes wide. “Of course I don’t want you to ‘win’, I have no idea what you have planned for me! You’re acting like this whole thing is just a fun game for you but for me it’s terrifying!” Jimmy breathed in and out, everything finally coming out about what he thought of Joel’s little ‘game’. He wasn’t sure what finally made him say it but it probably had something to do with the fact that…that…

 That he knew he wasn’t getting out of this. Not without being caught by Joel. His breathing became shaky and he slowly realized there were tears streaming down his face at the realization.

 Joel’s eyes were still wide. Still trying to process what Jimmy had said. “Are…Are you crying?”

 Jimmy sniffed and rubbed at his eyes. “Yes.” Jimmy’s voice cracked. He didn’t see any reason to lie. It was obvious.

 Joel was silent, which was more terrifying than anything the human could have said. He heard some shuffling and then something dragging. He looked up to see what was happening in just enough time to see Joel’s face come into view. Jimmy’s breath hitched as he was face to face with the human for the first time.

 And then Joel’s hands were in view and Jimmy pressed himself even further into the wall, wishing he could melt into it. Wishing he was anywhere but here. “No, no, Joel, please don’t…” He cried, more tears replacing the ones he had just wiped away.

 The large hands came up on either side of him and Jimmy flinched and braced himself. The hands scooped underneath him and suddenly Jimmy was sitting in Joel’s cupped hands. His body shook, his fear overwhelming him. 

 “Caught you.” Joel said, his voice low. Jimmy let out a whimper, feeling helpless and pathetic. Joel stepped down and was back on the floor, still holding onto Jimmy. Jimmy shut his eyes tight, not wanting to see what was going to happen.

 But they quickly opened again when Jimmy realized he had been put down. He looked around, realizing Joel had placed him on the kitchen counter. He looked up. Joel was still there, looming over him but he quickly crouched down so he was more eye level with Jimmy. Jimmy scooted back, fear still in control.

 “I finally won. And…now you can go.” Joel said, eyes glancing away for a moment. Jimmy’s eyes widened, not knowing if he heard him right.

 “W-What?” Jimmy said, his voice a sharp contrast from his earlier yelling. 

 Joel sighed and looked back at Jimmy, meeting his eyes. Jimmy had the overwhelming urge to tear his eyes away from Joel’s but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I said, you can go. I…nothing was ever going to happen to you if I won. I just…I thought we were playing a game. I thought you were in on it.” Joel shook his head, eyes not leaving Jimmy’s still. “I’m sorry.”

 Jimmy felt…well, he wasn’t sure how he felt. He had been caught by Joel, finally. But Joel…wasn’t going to keep him? Or do anything with him? What was happening? 

 Finally, Jimmy tore his gaze away from Joel’s, eyes instead moving over to the shelf he had been on not moments ago. But now, underneath it, there was a stepladder. “I thought you said you didn’t have a stepladder?” Jimmy said, letting it distract him for a moment.

 Joel’s eyes briefly glanced over at the stepladder before settling back on Jimmy. “I lied.” He said simply. 

 Jimmy let out a small breath. “Oh.”

 Joel’s gaze softened and he sighed. “I really am sorry, Jimmy. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. Or make you think I would…do anything to you.” Joel shook his head and then stood up. Jimmy couldn’t help but flinch back. “I’ll leave you alone now. I won’t…try and catch you anymore.”

 Joel looked at Jimmy one last time and then turned around and left. Jimmy heard the door to his room shut and suddenly, Jimmy was alone.

 His entrance back into the walls was right behind him but for some reason, Jimmy couldn’t get himself to move. Everything seemed to have happened so fast, Jimmy was still trying to process it all.

 But the one thing he was sure of, was that Joel had let him go. And, apparently, had always had the intention of letting him go. This whole thing really had been a game to him but not in the malicious way Jimmy had first thought.

 Joel thought it was fun because he thought Jimmy also found it fun. It seemed like, the second he had realized Jimmy was scared, he stopped playing.

 Jimmy slowly stood up, his legs feeling wobbly. He looked over towards Joel’s room, watching for a long moment. When nothing happened, Jimmy turned around and walked toward his entrance into the walls.

 He had a lot to think about.

[your-nanas-house]

𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔀𝓮, 𝓲𝓭𝓲𝓸𝓽?

◇ Pairing: Neil Lewis X best friend!Reader

◇ Warnings: fluff, sadness, mean parents, Neil's made up childhood, friends to lovers, kiss, tuna

◇ Summary: Neil has to bring his girlfriend to the Christmas dinner with his family, the problem?... He doesn't have one so he asks his best friend.

◇ Note: Another amazing collaboration with @mrkdvidal1989. First fic of the new "event" 'From love to Love'.

Neil froze hearing his mother's words over the phone. His eyes widened in shock while Y/n walked in front of him, peacefully sorting out movies while humming. Unaware that her best friend was just going through a hurricane of thoughts at the ridiculous demand of his mother.

You take her or don't bother to come, she said, and after not getting any response for a couple seconds, she hung up with a sigh of annoyance. He knew how his mother was but usually… he didn't care too much. Usually the whole family would just pick on him “playfully” because of the fact that he was still single, just running his store for a living. Suddenly breathing got heavier and the humiliation set in, as he sighed moving quickly. Passing by Y/n, he rushed to his office, in need of a moment to deal with his own feelings.

“I can’t” were the first words that left Neil’s mouth since the call ended, it was crazy and dangerous and he was pretty much regretting having picked up the phone that morning, he would have lived better without knowing those annoying news. 

He had to go back “home” for Christmas… back to his childhood house more like, as he never truly felt there like home. After a couple of years now going there just to spend Christmas all together like they used to do. A fucking nightmare. How could he survive, he thought, his hands covering his face in pure desperation, so worried and pissed to go there… he was off age, why couldn’t he do what he wanted?

That’s how his colleague and friend found him, leaned on his desk, at the edge of crying.

”Man, I'm just trying to help.” Jonathan shrugged, after he came quickly to the Gumshoe right after Y/n’s shift ended, passing by her at the door with a smile. Neil huffed with helplessness. He knew that his friends just wanted to help him with the issue, but nevertheless it was.. more than frustrating. Pacing back and forth he stroked the hair at the nape of his neck, thinking intensely. Looking… for a solution that wouldn't require making himself look like a fool in front of his best friend.

“And how the fuck am I supposed to ask her, huh? Not that I intend to.” Neil hissed, gesticulating in desperation “I can’t do that! Especially not to her, I have been stuck celebrating all those awful events, forced by my parents… She would come willingly. That would be—” Jonathan interrupted him quickly, shaking his head “Man, calm down! we don’t even know if she can, I’m just telling you that you should try. You always say that everything is way more fun when she’s around so why not try to fight this by using her..help, huh?” the man suggested, proud of himself as he waited for Neil’s reaction “she even likes to dress up and trust me, bet she would be way happier to come with you there than to participate at another of the events here in the show” he commented quietly.

”How can you know that?” Neil snapped, as he registered only the first part of the sentence, his mind jumping to the conclusion that Jonathan was spending a lot of time with her. Jealousy racing through his veins in a second. 

Seeing it, Jonathan rolled his eyes at the reaction. 

”Yeah, and maybe.. maybe you two could sort that weird… “friendship” out.” He suggested, gesturing in the air as he spoke. ”No need to get snappy, man. She seems to like only one geek, and you already took that spot.” He joked eventually, wanting to ease the atmosphere. It worked, as Neil smiled weakly. 

It was true, they were friends ever since Neil approached her in the third grade asking about the sandwich she had. For her the tuna sandwich was the grossest thing in the world, but little Neil had shiny eyes at the thought of it. She called him gross and he pushed her. That's how their friendship started, ironically. 

She sure was perfect and that way Neil wouldn’t have ruined their every-year plans.. Christmas Eve together and a quick meeting at Christmas, like always. They could spend even more time together if she agreed to go with him.

Huffing, he sat down in the armchair as he ran his hand through his dark hair. Was it really a good idea? he wondered silently, glancing a couple of times towards Jonathan, who was still standing there awkwardly. Even if she wasn’t in the store anymore, he should have called or gone to her apartment but… he couldn’t leave Gumshoe, right? 

He remained lost in his thoughts for a couple of minutes, coming back to reality hearing a soft knock on his office door. His baby blue eyes snapped up as he sat better on his chair, surprised to see Y/n back there, a smile on her face. “Sorry to interrupt the …meeting, I just left my scarf in your office Neil, so I came back to get it. It’s pretty cold outside, I was freezing…” she revealed continuing to ramble while walking to the small sofa in his office, grabbing her scarf before heading back to the door. Neil was forced now to ask her, it looked really like faith. 

“Weenie—” he spoke abruptly, making her stop mid step, and turn around to face him with a raised eyebrow, the nickname catching her attention immediately like every time, just like the way he said it. Instead of the casual, easygoing tone of his, he sounded.. nervous and awkward. The tone that Y/n knew too well, which piqued her interest just as much as the old nickname that they have been using for several years. “What, dink?” she asked with a soft smile on her face. Jonathan just staring at them with wide eyes and toothy grin, seeing how the stare they shared couldn’t be one of just friends.

Neil looked at his feet awkwardly, not knowing how to start. 

”Yeah, tell her, Dink.” Jonathan mocked playfully, earning a soft slap on the back of his head from Y/n, who scolded him and reminded him that she was the only one that could call Neil like that and he should have respect for his own boss. One stern glance from Neil was enough to make him lift his hands in surrender.

”Alright, alright. I got the message.” He said, slowly heading to the door. 

Just before the door closed shut, he shot Neil one last look that was basically saying “tell her, idiot!” 

A sigh pushed past the nervous man's lips as he was left alone with his best friend in the office. Neil had no energy and will to play around the topic, so he just took a deep breath approaching her closer. 

”Look… if I had any different choice, I wouldn't… I wouldn't try to pull you into it..” He started off, sitting on the desk in front of her, looking down at his hands, making her quite nervous. But without a second thought she lifted his chin with her hand, making him look in her eyes. 

”You can pull me into anything as long as you follow, you know that— Stop being so nervous, now, I’m starting to fear that it’s something big and concerning” She urged, feeling that something wasn't right… not with how he was trying to avoid eye contact with her. 

”Are you involved with the mafia, Dink?” She held back a giggle, using her best poor Italian accent to try to ease the tension and his mood, successfully as he giggled back. 

“Are you trying to perform as Robert De Niro, now?” he huffed amused “You are still doing it wrong” Neil added, commenting on her performance “Lies, you’re just jealous of my skills. Bet someone could actually mistake me for him, bit of makeup and I look just like him” she joked, her smiles switching slowly into a soft one when Neil spoke softly to deny it “You are beautiful… so shut up” he quickly added the last part to ease the awkward tension. She chuckled as well, sighing as she sat at the chair in front of the desk.

”So.. tell me. What do you need, Neil?” Y/n asked seriously this time, so he mirrored her body language. 

”Okay so… My mother said… well, more like forced me? Obligated me… to bring at the christmas dinner a girlfriend and… and she said that if I don't I.. I shouldn't even come.” He stuttered out nervously again, glancing at Y/n as she kept listening to him while nodding. She didn't say anything, as she knew that it wasn't the end of the story. Neil knew it too. 

”andithoughtthatyoucouldgowithme” he spat out really quickly, breathing deeply just at the end of the sentence, almost passing out. 

Y/n tried not to laugh at that, nodding as if she understood everything he said to her “Now.. I have known you for years, Dink. I know what you said but you know how much I like to see you in such a state, huh. Ask it better” she requested, humming while crossing her legs smugly, waiting for Neil’s next move.

He scoffed at that, of course she wanted that... and he was going to give it to her like every time “Fine! You dick.. Would you come with me… please” he asked, showing her his pleading eyes, earning a chuckle from her “First, I’m not a dick. Second… of course I will, you dork” she answered, leaving a couple of seconds of silence before giving him her final answer, creating suspense between them.

Neil was just nodding sadly, sighing softly as his hand rested on her small shoulder, patting it twice “I know that you would have….wait what—” he raised his voice quickly, his eyes snapping to hers as his mood changed completely “You’re not joking, right?” he asked to make sure he could celebrate his victory. Y/n just rolled her eyes before she got up, kissing his cheek exaggerating the noise. 

”I’m not, but now I need to run if I want to make it to the bus. See you later, send me the details.” She said quickly, running through the door with a smile. 

Neil sat there in silence for a moment before exhaling loudly. Then a slow smile appeared on his lips. 

. *time lapse* .

The snow kept falling down on them as they waited in front of the big mansion, looking at each other every now and then

”You can do it… we can do it. Together.’’ she reminded him as soon as she felt his nervousness, squeezing his hand in her own. 

Neil exhaled, straightening his back as he glanced at her. She nodded, and they went to the door, knocking before they'd change their mind. Here we go, no backing away now. Neil knocked, and they waited a couple seconds before steps approached the door, swinging them open and showing the silhouette of Neil's mother. 

”Oh, Neil… you're here.” She said with a fake smile plastered on her face. Then her gaze fell on Y/n and her eyes shone with respect. Y/n really was a pretty girl, nice features, styled hair and a very pleasant body, she was also all dolled up like Neil asked her, just for that dinner… ready to support her best friend as best she could. ”..and who's that?” the older woman asked, reaching out to Y/n, who shook her hand with a smile. 

”That’s Y/n. My.. girlfriend.” Neil informed his mother, stuttering for a second, glancing at Y/n when the word girlfriend left his mouth. 

His mother just nodded, lifting her chin up higher with a smaller smile.

”Come in.” She said, opening the door wider and closing them behind them.

It will be a long night, Y/n thought seeing the rudeness in his mother's eyes. 

. *couple hours later* .

Y/n clenched her jaw again that night, hearing the two-sided comments towards Neil. He was quiet most of the time.. before he wasn't, as his younger brother threw an insult towards Y/n this time. 

”Watch your fucking mouth.” He barked at him suddenly, surprising everyone by the table. His father's eyes widened, and a little smile appeared on his lips. George gasped in shock, as it never happened before that Neil would actually stand up for himself. He'd either ignore him or just stutter out some insult back. 

”Neil” His mother scolded another time throughout the dinner, and Y/n was fed up. She scooted back, and the chair squeaked, scratching the wooden floor from the sudden movement. 

”Are you serious? This little brat insults him all night and you won't say anything, but when Neil stands up for me, you dare to scold him?” Y/n spoke up in a harsh, stern tone. The icy gaze in her eyes was enough to make everyone go quiet. 

”I… I..” His mother stuttered out, still shocked. 

Neil got up suddenly, heading to the door as he needed some fresh air. That whole “Christmas” dinner was a nightmare. 

Y/n and Mrs. Lewis kept glaring at each other, and as the older woman opened her mouth to continue arguing, her husband's fist slammed at the table, startling her. 

”Enough! Are you happy with ruining our Christmas dinner?” His low voice boomed at her, as he had enough of her backhanded compliments and rude talk. Seeing the situation, Y/n decide to leave as well, grabbing one of the tuna sandwiches from the plate standing on the table, fully knowing that Neil didn't manage to eat anything. Just some baked potatoes but she stole most of them from him. Rushing through the corridor, Y/n noticed that his jacket was gone, so she didn't hesitate to get out of the house. 

Looking around, her heart pounded, not seeing him anywhere. Only as she looked at the other side of the road she noticed him, sitting on the bench despite the cold wind and falling snow. 

He was visibly upset, with red cheeks and nose, tucked into his big jacket to keep some warm, and snowflakes in his dark hair… he looked beautiful. Even more than usual, she thought. 

Even though she was heading to him, he didn't hear her steps or the crunching of snow under the sole of her boots. Only when she stood in front of him, Neil looked up at her face with teary eyes, making her expression soften. 

She didn’t say anything, just moved her arm to show him what she was hiding under her coat, a small smile on her face. Neil looked at her, glancing down at the thing she was offering to him, a smile breaking on his face as well.

“A gross tuna sandwich for the grosser boy I know” she sang, moving the food closer to Neil, her cold flushed cheeks making her look like a kid “Come on… take a bite or do you need me to feed you, huh?” She teased, handing him the sandwich after she moved it in tiny circles in front of his face, so that he could sniff its smell. 

Neil grabbed it, brushing his warm hands against her cold ones before sticking out his tongue like a kid, just like when he was younger.

Y/n watched him take it,  before she sat down on the cold bench next to him. She didn’t talk, just leaned her head on his shoulder, sneaking her hand in his pocket to hold his bigger one in hers.

They stayed like that for some minute, in silence and now in each other’s arms ‘’Don’t listen to them, Dink…’’ she whispered, watching his side profile as he ate his sandwich. Neil was clearly lost in his mind for a while as they just sat there, getting covered with snow. Several minutes passed before Y/n attempted to talk again. 

”I don't regret coming here with you.” She confessed, making him look at her, surprise written all over his face. 

”How come?” He asked, confused. Neil couldn't think of a single reason for why she would actually be happy about coming on the Christmas dinner to his family. It went.. horrible. 

Y/n shrugged, playing with his big long fingers. 

”I mean… I don't know.” She backed off a little, feeling a little ashamed of her confession. Neil could see that she wanted to say something else, but doubt crept up her mind. He grabbed her chin suddenly, surprising her and himself as well, making her look in his baby blue eyes that looked even more charming with the white snow in the background. 

”Tell me.” He asked more like commanded in a quiet voice. Suddenly the atmosphere between them got more.. intimate than fragile like before. His gaze didn't falter for a second, as he boldly starred in her eyes. 

Y/n felt like that moment would pass soon if she didn't take the change.

”I.. I liked.. playing your girlfriend.” She spoke up, matching the volume of his voice. Neil’s eyes shifted down, looking at all the features of her face separately, carefully and taking his time. The intention in his eyes was visible, and made Y/n’s breath deepen as her heart started pounding in her chest. 

”I like it too.” He whispered, subconsciously leaning in, reducing the distance between them with each second. 

Without a second of doubt, Y/n moved closer, tilting her head up so he could reach her lips more easily. 

Even though they both knew it was coming, the sensation that went through their bodies was.. shocking. Knowing each other for years, neither of them would expect to feel… such fireworks while kissing. 

Her soft lips moved against his slowly, sensually without any rush. Neil was completely frozen, not moving at all as he didn't want to ruin the moment. Y/n wasn't as shy, as her hand reached his cheek to keep him closer. In their minds the kiss lasted for hours, yet it was barely a minute before they ran out of oxygen. Parting in need of a breath, Neil leaned his forehead on hers, letting out a shaky breath. Silence between them lasted for a couple minutes.

”Neil…” She started out.

”I know.” He cut her off, earning a chuckle. 

”Neil…” She started again ”If you don't confess that you love me, right now… I'm afraid I'm going to throw up. I feel your tuna in my mouth.” She whispered, making him burst into laughter. 

Shaking his head he grabbed her face in his hands, his eyes shiny and hair a mess, hanging over his forehead. 

”I love you, Y/n.” He said, still smiling so widely, and she giggled out loudly. 

”I love you too, Dinky…. I'm freezing by the way, could we go back inside? Not in the dining room but maybe in your room. I was always curious to see your childhood bedroom” she revealed, a bit too eager to know more about Neil's past.

With that the young woman stood up, offering her now hopefully boyfriend her hand. It took Neil a couple of seconds to take her hand finally, since the priorities came first, aka his tuna sandwich, leading her himself back towards the house and upstairs to his bedroom. 

Nothing had changed much during the years, his little brother George received more useless stuff while her older sister Margaret wasn't living there anymore so her useless stuff was all in her own house.

As soon as they walked in the bedroom, Neil made sure to lock the door, past trauma of people walking in his room without asking just to annoy or piss him off came quickly back. Y/n didn't seem to mind though, her eyes kept wandering around as her hands worked on the buttons of her coat “I have a gift for you by the way” she informed Neil with a smile, her beautiful eyes now stopping back on him “but…I won't give it to you till you go wash your teeth. I don't want to risk getting another tuna kiss” she murmured, shivering at the idea, making Neil laugh and nod as he headed to his own small personal bathroom to do as she said.

Coming out again, his eyes locked with hers— she was now sitting on his bed, leg crossed with a small rectangular present next to her body. A small smile on her face. “Come on, open your gift, Dink” She encouraged him, watching how he walked closer with a childlikeness hidden in his eyes.

Neil carefully took the wrapped object, working on the paper to open it carefully, stealing glances at Y/n who was watching him with his same mood.

“You like it?” The young woman asked softly, studying her best friend's reaction “it's an old noir movie… I heard your discussion about it with Jonathan in the Gumshoe and I managed to find it.” She added anxiously, seeing no clear reaction from him. Her lips parted for the third time, ready to ask for clarification again but she didn't need to, since Neil's lips pressed against hers— his arms wrapping around her smaller frame as his big hand cupped the back of her head to keep her in place. It really looked like one of those kisses characters shared in old movies… so rich of passion and love.

The position was quite uncomfortable though, so they changed it after a couple of seconds, his arms now holding her hips firmly against his body and her arms hugging his neck to keep him closer to her. No tuna this time.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover , @slasher-smasher , @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Pt. 2 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ NSFW (Minors DNI), smut, regret of sexual acts, alcohol consumption, age difference, jealousy, general angst, secrecy, not edited

Word Count: 4.6k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: We had some drama in the last part, but things are going to start getting a little unhinged, buckle up! The next part probably won't be up until the beginning of next week. Try to ignore the fact that I can not and never have been able to keep the same tense through a whole story and I am a fan of run on sentences, its simply how my brain works lol. I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Thank you for all of the love thus far! Enjoy!

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One

---

You jolt awake to the feeling of a hand brushing over your forehead. You have absolutely no idea how long you’ve been asleep, curled up in the corner of the couch. It could have been 10 minutes or five hours.

“Sorry, sorry, shhh it’s okay.” A familiar British accent soothes you, his hand still stroking your hair in a comforting manner.

“Lew?” You croak out, your voice much more hoarse than you had expected it to be.

“It’s me sweetie.” His voice stays low and comforting, “Why are you on the couch?”

It takes you a second to blink your eyes open, blurriness clouding your vision. When you finally see him, he looks exhausted, and maybe a little drunk.

“I was worried about you, tried to stay up” You mumble drearily, still not really awake.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay, no need to worry about me.” His large hand comes to rest on your cheek as you start to wake up a bit more.

“Where did you go?” You ask, trying to elbow yourself up on the couch slightly.

He frowns, looking away from you, “Don’t worry about it. How about you get to bed? I’m home now, no need for concern.”

You nod, getting up from the couch and heading towards the hallway where everyone is asleep. You pause for a moment, remembering that Talia has taken over your room. You glance at the clock over the bar, seeing that it’s past three in the morning. You know Charlotte offered for you to sleep with her but you feel bad possibly waking her after she's already been asleep for nearly four hours. You let out a deep sigh, turning back toward Lewis. He’s sitting on the couch where you left him, his legs wide with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, he looks distressed. He doesn’t seem to even realize that you're still in the room as you make your way over to the bar. You grab two fresh glasses, pouring the both of you a drink. His head snaps up as he hears the liquid pouring. You carefully make your way over to him, wordlessly offering him one of the glasses before you take a seat next to him.

“You should really go to bed Y/N.” He says without much meaning, taking a sip of the fresh Gin and Tonic, leaning back into the couch.

“Talk to me.” You say, ignoring his comment, curling yourself up into the couch. Your knees are to your chest as you face him, his arm coming up over the back of the couch, just barely above you.

“What do you even want me to say?” He laughs almost cynically.

“Where did you go tonight?” You ask against your better judgment. You’ve known Lewis long enough to know that when he says he doesn't want to talk about something, he truly doesn't, but your curiosity is getting the best of you.

He lets out a long sigh, leaning forward to set his drink down on the coffee table before looking toward you.

“I really don’t think you want to know Y/N.” He says, quickly lowering his eyes so he doesn't have to meet your eye contact.

“What do you mean?” You pry, placing your own glass on the table.

“I’ve been to this island quite a few times, I’ve gotten to know the good spots.” He starts, leaning forward to take a big sip out of his glass like he needs it to carry on with the story, “There’s this bar, maybe a mile away, it’s almost always open. I went there, just wanted a drink, alone, to cool down a bit. But… in all honesty, I just came from the hostesses apartment.”

“Oh.” You’re not quite sure how to respond.

“I know, it’s stupid, but I just needed to blow off some steam I guess.” He shrugs as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary, however the look on his face is one of pure shame, he still won’t look at you.

“I mean, you’re a single adult, it doesn’t really matter I guess.” You try to sound confident however your voice wavers, unsure of how to properly navigate the situation.

“No Y/N, I might be but… the situation I left behind, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to anyone.” He lets out another deep sigh before continuing, “I really fucked up, and I think I fucked up with someone I really care about.”

This takes you by complete surprise, never would you have pegged Talia as someone Lewis would truly care about. You’ve always thought he was a decent judge of character when it comes to everyone but his play things. You really couldn’t imagine them as a true couple, they barely seemed to have anything in common. You felt a small pit form in your stomach, realizing that if he wanted to make things work with her, she would be around a whole lot more often. You couldn’t help but feel like that would be the demise of your friendship with Lewis, you doubt she would want you around after she made her feelings on you very clear.

You take a large swig of your drink, downing half of it in one sip, hoping to push away the ache that is starting to form in your chest. You don’t want to imagine a world without your friends, without Lewis, in your life. Despite having a million questions for him, you don’t push, not really in the mood to hear him confess his feelings for the woman you despise. He seems to be in a similar boat, acting to change the subject quickly.

“Where did you learn to make such a good drink, huh?” His voice is lighter now, almost teasing. You can tell he’s attempting to diffuse the conversation.

“I’m almost positive I’ve told you this before, but I used to be a bartender. It was my job in college.” You tell him, settling into the couch, just enjoying your uninterrupted time with him, “Besides, its a gin and tonic, it would be pretty sad if someone fucked that up.”

His laugh was tired but still held the boyish charm it always does, “Oh trust me, Miles can fuck up a gin and tonic. I’ve experienced it.” He looks at you with a smirk before continuing, “And no you’ve never told me that, because I’m certain if you had, that I would have told you that I too used to be a bartender.”

“Oh really?” You raise an eyebrow at him, wanting to hear more. You’ve only ever known of him as a racer, never even thinking of the possibility he did other things while getting to where he is now.

“Yup, back when I was like eighteen,” He nods, taking another sip of his drink, “my last day I got absolutely hammered though. I made myself try everything I’d been serving.”

You giggle, picturing a hammered teenage Lewis, “I should have thought of that on my last day. All I did was throw my apron at my manager and tell him to ‘go to hell’.”

“Ah, yes, a fantastic way to leave a job. I’m sure you got lot’s of good references from that one.” He teases you.

“Hey, he was a sexist pig, I don’t need references from someone like that.” You defend yourself.

“I’m sure you had plenty of good reasons, you always do.” He assures.

“Tell me more about you as a youngster. I only know grown adult Lew, I don’t know much about teenage Lew.” You prompt him, settling further into the couch, ready for a story.

He does the same, relaxing himself so his arm hangs just around your shoulders, pulling you into him slightly, “You know plenty about me as a kid.” He furrows his brow.

“Well I know the stuff that everybody else knows, I know the karting career, the underdog story, but I also thought I knew plenty about adult you before we met. I was very wrong about that though.” You laugh a little.

“Okay, fair. Well I was a royal pain in the ass when I first got to f1, my ego was sky high. It didn’t take long for me to settle down, thankfully, but I’ve definitely grown a lot since then.” He starts, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

You hum, urging him to continue. He tells you about his old partying habits, random fights he’d been in during his school days, how rivalries played out off track. He tells you about the Lewis you watched on the television for so many years, and you find it quite fascinating. You try so hard to keep listening, humming every once in a while to let him know that you're still there. You could listen to him talk for hours, his voice so soothing and peaceful. You try to fight your sleep, but it's useless, his voice lulls you into a peaceful slumber. You cuddle further into his arm as he tightens his hold on you, your head lands on his shoulder and you feel him rest his cheek against you, his own exhaustion taking over. The warmth of his body is so grounding and you can’t help but wish you could stay there, tucked against him, forever.

. . .

“Well it’s nice to see you’re alive.” You’re woken to the sound of Charlotte's voice in the kitchen. You’re alone on the couch, a blanket draped over you.

“It’s not like I disappeared for a week or something, I was gone for a couple hours. I’m fine Char.” You hear Lewis, you can tell he’s trying to keep his voice down, hoping not to wake anyone.

“No, not this time, but you’ve done that before and it scared the shit out of me.” Her voice sounds emotional. You feel bad eavesdropping but you perk up at that, intrigued as to what she’s talking about.

“That was different, you know that.” The tone in his voice tells you he’s trying to shut the topic down, not wanting to speak about it any further.

“Of course I know that, but it’s not like you to go awol on us like that. The only times you do are never good for you.” Charlotte says, her voice getting slightly louder.

“Keep it down, Y/N is still asleep, right there.” Lewis hushes her.

“Sorry,” Her voice is quiet again, “where did you even go last night?”

“I went and saw Marina.” His voice is much quieter now, like they’re exchanging secrets.

“Holy crap, how is she?” Charlotte sounds shocked, and almost a little concerned.

Now you’re incredibly confused. Lewis had told you he spent the night with some hostess from a bar, he hadn’t mentioned a name of any sort and you have no idea why Charlotte would know who she was.

“She’s definitely been better but she’s hanging in there. She wasn’t too impressed that I didn’t tell her I was gonna be in town.” He keeps his voice low.

“And how’s Leon?” Charlotte sounds almost giddy as she asks.

You know you should make your conscious presence known but it feels almost too late, they’ve gotten too far into what seems to be a very private conversation. You don’t want either of them to be mad at you, although they would have every right, you’re violating their privacy majorly.

“He’s good,” You can almost hear the smile on Lewis’s face as he speaks, “he’s getting freaking big. He comes up to my hip already.”

You can’t hear Charlotte's next comment as dishes clank around, one of them cleaning up the kitchen from the abandoned dinner the night before.

“Yeah, I just wish I could help them out more. I send them money but that doesn’t really make up for her being a single mom.” Lewis says.

“You do more than enough for them Lewis.” You hear Charlotte reassure him, “Why didn’t you tell her you were going to be in town?”

“I knew if I tried to go see her, Talia would want to come, and there’s no sense in introducing Leon to someone that he’s never gonna see again. It wouldn’t be fair.” Lewis sighs.

You stay so still on the couch, you’re not sure you’re even breathing, desperate to hear where the conversation goes. You have so many questions. Why would Lewis have told you he hooked up with someone instead of telling you the truth? Why does he feel so responsible for this kid? Is it his?

“Wassup bruv, good to see you’re in one piece.” You hear Miles' voice burst through the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation between Lewis and Charlotte.

You let out a small sigh, knowing you won’t learn anymore, at least for now. You stay on the couch for a few more minutes, listening to Miles harass Lewis about his insane guest, before you deem it long enough to safely make your presence known. You make your way off the couch, taking the blanket and wrapping it around yourself. You’re still in your swimsuit from yesterday and you feel disgusting, you desperately want a shower and some fresh clothing.

“Morning.” You greet the three of them quietly. Feeling the guilt of listening to them gnaw at your core.

“How’d you sleep?” Lewis asks, “Apologies if my shoulder isn’t the most comfortable pillow in the world.”

You laugh before responding, “Honestly, not bad, I think I could have fallen asleep on any surface last night.”

“I was waiting for my cuddles last night, I’m offended that I got beat out.” Charlotte sends a scowl in Lewis’s direction.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you up, it was really late.” You give her a sympathetic smile, knowing she’s only really half joking.

“Yeah that brings up a problem that we currently have, the wicked witch is still here.” Miles points out, gesturing his thumb down the hall where she must still be sleeping.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll deal with it.” Lewis sighs, rolling his eyes. His response surprises you a bit, you wonder if he doesn’t want to make his feelings known to his other friends, that maybe it was a moment of weakness when he revealed it to you.

He makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and placing a kiss to the top of your head before speaking quietly in your ear, “Your stuff is still in my room. How about you go take a shower and get dressed while I make you something to eat, sound good?”

You nod, whispering a quiet thank you before making your way down the hall and toward his bedroom. You had yet to actually step foot in his room but when you did you were in awe. He was staying in the suite, seeing as he had rented the house. His bed looked even more comfortable than the one in your room and his view was unmatched. There was a large terrace off the side of the room that you had only seen from outside. The room was big enough to hold a seating area that rivaled your living room at home. You found your bag, neatly placed on a chair, obviously picked up from wherever it had been chucked the night before. You rummaged through it hoping to find your bag of toiletries to go take a shower, huffing when you realized she hadn’t been that thorough while evicting you. You grab a clean change of clothes and make your way to the bathroom, hoping you can at least rinse off. The bathroom is just as impressive as the bedroom, an impressive combination of marble and teak that shouldn’t work as well as it does. The shower is massive with two large rainfall shower heads. You almost moan when you see it, eager to enjoy the hot water on your incredibly tense muscles. As you wait for the water to heat up you try to locate the towels, as you do, you see both Talia’s and Lewis’ body washes sitting on the counter. You contemplate stealing hers for a moment, but you don’t even want to smell like her. You opt to steal Lewis’s figuring he won’t mind.

The shower is just as therapeutic as you had hoped it would be and the clean clothes make you feel like a whole new person. As you walk past what used to be your bedroom you hear her moving around, you can only hope she’s finally packing and getting ready to leave. You end up finding Lewis, Charlotte, and Miles on the back deck, a large spread of food in front of them. You take the seat next to Lewis and he smirks at you as you sit down.

“What?” You ask, confused by the look he’s giving you.

“You smell familiar.” He teases you.

You blush, feeling immediately embarrassed that he noticed, “I’m sorry, I borrowed your soap but when Talia kicked me out of my room she didn’t-” Your rambled apology is quickly cut off.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it, s’not a problem. I kinda like it.” He offers you a comforting smile, placing his hand on your knee. “Now what do you want to eat? We’ve got plenty of options.”

The atmosphere throughout breakfast finally feels normal, like the vacation that you were all supposed to be able to enjoy. Charlotte makes mimosas and Lewis keeps your plate full, despite your constant pleas for him to stop, you’re pretty sure you’re going to burst at the seams pretty soon.

“So I was thinking maybe we could head back down to the beach today, Volleyball has been calling my name since I saw the net.” Miles pipes up.

“Sounds good to me, get ready to get your ass whooped though.” Lewis says through a mouthful of pancake.

“Last time I played Volleyball I sprained my ankle and got a concussion, but I’m happy to be a cheerleader.” You said, laughing.

All three of them looked at you with very amused expressions.

“Please elaborate on how the hell you managed that?” Lewis urges you, you can tell he’s ready to taunt.

“Well clumsiness and hard balls don’t really go well together.” You shrug taking a sip of your mimosa.

They all burst out laughing, agreeing that maybe you should stick to the sidelines. The lighthearted air is cut short as Steph walks out to the back deck, her eyebrows almost to her hairline and clearly unamused. The reason is made clear quickly as Talia gets to the door, her hands on her hips and a scowl across her face.

“So playboy, you get me a flight out of here or what?” She throws her hands to her sides, staring hard at Lewis.

“If you’ll excuse me.” He wipes his mouth as he stands up from the table.

“You know its pretty classy of you, eye fuck her all day and then go spend the night somewhere else while I’m tossed to the side like dirty laundry.” You hear her start to berate him as they walk into the house.

“Well she’s a joy.” Steph mumbles, taking a seat and loading up a plate.

The conversation turns easy again, Miles filling Steph in on what has now turned into a Volleyball tournament apparently. He’s given you the job of ref, despite you trying to explain to him that you have no clue what the rules of the game even are. Lewis still hasn’t returned to the table as you all finish up and head off to go get ready for a beach day again. You walk into his room to grab your stuff, finding him sprawled back on the bed, an arm over his face.

“You good?” You ask quietly, hoping not to startle him.

He lets his arm flop to the side, glancing over at you, “Soonest flight out of here isn’t until five, so we’re stuck with her for the rest of the day.”

“Why doesn’t she just go do something while she waits?” You point out the obvious option while you rummage for a fresh swimsuit.

“Because she’s not a reasonable person, I think we’ve established that.” He gives you a look that makes you chuckle.

“Fair point,” you nod, “I’m just gonna go change and then we’re gonna head down.”

He nods, getting up off the bed as you head into the bathroom to change. The swim suit you chose for the day is one of your nicer ones. It's a one piece with bright colors and more cutouts than it really needs. The hips come up high and put most of you on display but it makes you feel confident. When you make your way out of the bathroom Lewis has already changed into a new set of swim trunks, you know he’s watching you intently as you step in front of the mirror, trying to adjust the tie behind your neck. He comes up behind you, brushing your hands away and redoing the tie himself. When he’s done he doesn’t step away, instead he steps closer to you. His bare torso pressed to your back, you can feel his bulge on your ass and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself. You watch him carefully in the mirror as he leans down, placing a kiss to your neck making you gasp, then another, and another, each one going higher toward your ear. When he gets to just below your earlobe he nibbles, making your knees go weak. His strong arm comes around your torso, holding you up and keeping you pressed to him.

“I like this one.” He mumbles against your skin, continuing with his assault of wet kisses on your neck, finding every perfect spot as if by magic.

You feel his tongue trace over your skin, his head moving so he’s closer to your throat, placing a kiss to your clavicle before moving back up your neck. His hand that is placed on your stomach moves down slowly, almost seeking permission first, he reaches the crease between your hip and your thigh, that movement alone making you whimper. His other hand turns your face toward his, capturing your bottom lip between his teeth before properly kissing you. You melt into the kiss, his tongue so skillfully dancing with yours. You feel him move the small material of your swimsuit to the side, his thumb brushing over your clit ever so slightly, making you moan softly into his mouth. He takes that as a good sign, moving his thumb up and down in a gentle pattern with the perfect amount of pressure as his middle finger makes his way down to your embarrassingly wet opening. He applies the slightest pressure and you take notice of how thick just the tip of his finger feels. He groans into your mouth, feeling how wet you are, how easy it would be to take you right now, up against this mirror. You moan again as his finger slips past your walls, entering you at the perfect angle. He pulses his finger against the spot in the most intoxicating way, leaving you a panting mess. You can already feel your high creeping up on you as he inserts another finger, stretching you further. He groans again, a deep satisfied sound from his chest, thinking about just how snug you would feel around his cock.

“Good girl, such a good girl f’me,” His breath is just as ragged as yours and you can feel just how hard he is, pressed up against your ass, “you like that don’t you, like how I touch you. You’re gonna come so quick, I can feel it. Let it go for me Y/N, come all over my hand.” His kisses move back down your jaw as he talks you to your high but something about him saying your name slapped you back down to earth.

It hits you like a ton of bricks, your best friend who is nearly ten years your senior, is fingering you in his room while your friends wait for you at the beach. Not only that but the woman he had brought simply to fuck is still in your old room, two doors down the hall. You're still not sure where he was last night or what he was talking about with Charlotte this morning. It hasn’t even been twenty four hours since the explosion where Talia accused him of wanting to fuck you and here you are, proving her right. Immediately your orgasm vanishes and you start to push him away.

“Lewis, no, stop.” You say, pushing him away.

He lets you go easily but is incredibly confused. He shakes his head, his brow furrowed, trying to make sense of where your rejection suddenly came from.

“Y/N, what's wrong, are you okay?” He tried to step toward you, not to resume but in hopes of offering some sort of comfort.

“No,” You back away from him, you can see the pain flash over his face at your movement, “we can’t-, that can’t-, I’m, I’m not her, I-.” You can’t string together a full sentence, feeling like you might cry at a moment's notice.

“I know, Y/N, hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry I thought-” He starts, trying his best to calm you down somehow

“No Lewis, it hasn’t even been twenty four hours, shes still here,” You hiss at him, finally finding your words, “my god, she was right. Fuck. Is that why I’m here? Just so you can get your dick wet?”

“God no Y/N, fuck, yes I know, shitty timing on my part. But-” He tries to speak again but you cut him off once more.

“Yeah no shit, ‘shitty timing’.” You mock his accent, “I am not a fucking rebound or some play thing for you, especially after what you said last night. That, whatever that was, it can’t happen.” You shake your head.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what it was, I promise, I thought that-” Once again you cut him off.

“Yeah, I can tell what you fucking thought Lewis.” You keep your voice down but it still comes out harsh.

“Jesus Christ, would you please let me speak?” He sounds desperate, it’s written all over his face.

“I can’t do this Lewis, I have to go.” You put your hands up, stopping any further conversation from him before turning and walking out of the room.

“Y/N.” You hear him call your name behind you.

“Y/N.” It comes again, this time louder, but you can tell he’s not getting any closer. He’s not following you, and you’re thankful.

You feel so ashamed and so angry. You hate him right now, you hate that he chose that moment, this situation. You hate her for being right, he was trying to sleep with you. But you hate yourself too, you hate that you melted into him so easily, you hate that you didn’t stop him sooner. More importantly though, you hate that you loved it, you hate that you wish you didn’t stop him at all, you hate that you now want more, that you want to know exactly what he feels like, what he tastes like, everything about him. He made you  putty in his hands with just his lips alone, you can only imagine what else he is capable of. You hate that you know exactly what he offers, that he's willing to offer it, and you can’t accept it. You felt exactly what he possesses, pressed against your ass and now you will never be able to get the thought of it out of your head. You hate this.

But most important of all, you hate that you may have just lost Lewis.

[lloydfrontera]

BITES YOU BITES YOU BITES YOU BITES YOU

YES ACTUALLY THE PROBLEM IS THAT THE FOOD IS TOO LAVISH AND EXPENSIVE AND WASTEFUL THAT'S EXACTLY THE ISSUE THAT'S THE POINT OF THE SCENE

sigh.

"What are you doing?" Lloyd went on. "Eat up. If you still don't get it, then just put it in your head. In an event like this, food is what you remember." "I do not-" "Feel like eating it?" put in Lloyd- "No." "But why?" There was genuine curiosity in Lloyd's voice. "To be honest, I am skeptical about whether it's really necessary to waste so much money on this extravagant food," Javier spoke as he looked at the food stacked high on Lloyd's plate. "It is excessively rare. Unnecessarily high-end. Inefficient and expensive. The money that was spent on your plate of food alone could buy a large amount of rice and bread." Lloyd noticed the faint glint of complaint in Javier's eyes. He smiled. "Aha," said Lloyd, "I suppose you mean that giving up a small portion of this extravagant meal could help feed more hungry people in the capital, right?" "Yes." "Well," Lloyd said with a nod, "you're not wrong, but what can we do?" "What do you mean what can we do?" blurted Javier. "It's not like the food you refuse to eat will be distributed to the people." "..." "And we didn't spend our money on this," Lloyd reminded. "The banquet was prepared and hosted by the palace. That is why they prepared food befitting the status of this event."

the food being excessively expensive and lavish is exactly why javier doesn't feel comfortable eating it, he'd much rather the money went towards helping people that need it, that's an inherent part of his character, how much he cares and wants to help other people!

lloyd has to point out to him that it's not their fault the money was wasted, that they cannot give it back or use it to help people in need, even if they don't eat it won't actually help because the food is already there and the money was already spent.

and then he goes onto explain to him how the shows of power that alicia does are necessary in order to keep up the image of the kingdom and encourage other nations to keep the peace with them which does help the people even if much more indirectly. something that javier hadn't considered before.

and then he tries to get javier to enjoy himself a little in a way javier wouldn't allow himself on his own.

"So enjoy yourself," Lloyd suggested. "This event and amount of extravagance is a necessity." "Um, but..." "Oh, wow. Is that the special coconut from Ahinsya?" Flinch. Javier, who was about to grumble, stopped. The special coconut from Ahinsya. The sweet and sour taste automatically came back to him. "I got you." Lloyd smugly smiled. "..." "Look at that. I knew you'd chow down once you found something you like," pointed Lloyd. "You are wrong," denied Javier with a defiant look. "I was just tensing my body to hold back a sneeze." "Really?" "Yes." "Really?" Lloyd waggled his eyebrows. "Yes." "Then can you swear that you will never lay your hands on the coconut even when it's right in front of you?" "Of course, I won't-" "My, looks like there's a real one here." Lloyd immediately snatched a plate from a passing servant. The plate, in fact, did have a special coconut placed right on top of it. The smile on Lloyd's face turned more evil. "Then I will enjoy my drink" "..." Javier's face froze in a flash. That gave Lloyd another smile but not because he was able to make fun of Javier. Those reactions just now definitely suit Javier. A knight who was always sided with the weak. A hero who pursued justice over immediate power. Lloyd suddenly recalled Javier's appearances throughout the original novel. Yes. Right. I forgot because he's with me all the time, but he was always like this. Javier preferred a conversation in front of a bonfire to a luxurious banquet. He preferred to use the money for an extravagant meal to buy dozens of bread loaves for people in need. He didn't hesitate to act and didn't come to regret his decisions. This aspect of his personality remained unchanged even when he became the grandmaster in the novel. If he really wanted, he could have attained all the power and wealth he wanted. If he really made an effort, he could easily have had his own kingdom. But Javier didn't. He's really quite the man. Lloyd picked up the coconut with a grin and held it out to Javier. "No need to stiffen your face like that. Eat it." "..." "I won't judge." Lloyd held it out some more. "Eat it, I tell you." "..." "Hey, eating comes first before swearing," Lloyd insisted. "I never swore." At last, a wry smile appeared on Javier, and he was about to receive the coconut [...].

it's just. such a nice scene. we get to see another part of javier's personality that just like lloyd says we don't get to see very often because he's normally at his side. we get lloyd teasing javier into acting his age by presenting him with his favorite fruit. we get lloyd reflecting on the kind of person that javier is and being so fond about it in his thoughts even while he teases him on the outside.

it's about!! lloyd knowing javier better than anyone!! liking him just the way he is while teaching him to relax and enjoy stuff they have no real control over!! it's about their banter and the easy way they act around each other!! it's about them learning and helping each other grow as people!!

but no we don't need that why would we just add another ugly face while javier makes fun of him i'm sure that's just as good lol

[jazzmckay]

davg day 6:

if anyone needs me i will be over here lying on the floor

i'd already collected all the wolf statuettes apparently so as soon as i got the last from the inky (!!!!!!) i was able to view all the regrets back to back to back to back....

so yes. the floor. im a fun mix of excited and overwhelmed and heartbroken. stunned to find a ton of my headcanons are now actual canon. how intense. poor solas, jfc, but also shiiiiiit the dagger and the titans, thats so damn rough. i understand why lace is as angry as she is. the dwarves absolutely got the worst deal ever here. they are, after all, the ones who have to deal with the darkspawn all the time, not just during a blight. i took so many screenshots during all this.... i loved that the whole team got together like a damn book club to discuss solas' worst memories omg... rip to solas he's been mega exposed. the mortifying ordeal of being known. but my rook is absolutely sympathetic. i'm constantly wishing i could go talk to him whenever i want :( solas :(((( (id REALLY like to write a missing scene where rook goes to talk to him after minrathous vs treviso because who the fuck else would understand the weight of dooming innocents on such a scale? part of her sympathy is because i, the player, am sympathetic, but i also think the harder being a leader gets, the more she understands the complexity of the choices he made)

the topic of curing the titans came up..... houghhh is it really possible? will it happen in this game? aAaAAA

and then im meeting someone in the crossroads with morrigan, who she called "she". am i about to meet mythal? in spirit form after solas took her power at the end of dai??? i realize i can get this answer as soon as i want lmao but theres soooo much i want to do at the same times always!!!!

TAASH. i need to know everything about you RIGHT NOW

during all these sequences, i found myself so intrigued by everything taash had to add. theyre actually... really fucking smart? brains AND brawn? my DUDE thats hot. i got this vibe from the "taash talks" stuff as well. there is so much to them beneath the Brutal Warrior vibe

also i got a giggle out of taash immediately being like "they were fucking" about solas and mythal, and i got approval for agreeing "oh they were definitely doing it" sdfgmf incredible

i did indeed get a continuation about taash's gender issues and i'm so in love.... it's actually really wonderful to see a character still figuring it out instead of already knowing. cathartic. the struggle of feeling "not normal" and having a different response to gender things than others. simply not having the frame of reference or the terminology, just knowing theres this Feeling. can't wait to see how it plays out

the way solas was responsible for this with the titans and then when he woke up in the current world with the veil, he felt like it HAPPENED AGAIN.... ACCIDENTALLY. TO HIS OWN PEOPLE im going to scream. the way its linked to tranquility. screaming and screaming and

honestly all of this was delicious in a ton of ways, including lace, bellara, and davrin just being present, leaning all this about the dwarves, the elves, and the blight. bellara and lace relating over the need to reevaluate so much of what they understood..... hhh and davrin probably now understands more about the blight than any other warden ever.

when bellara mentioned that solas might be able to possess someone to escape the fade my pupils went blown like an excited cat lol literally instantly "POSSES ME, SOLAS....."

yes yes we're supposed to be wary, we're expecting him to betray us of course of course but listen. rook and solas could be in one body fighting this together as a little treat. im just SAYING

so after this i did emmrichs personal mission in the necropolis gardens, which was fucking beautiful. i do actually find cemeteries really peaceful, personally. ive been to some old canadian ones and had a great time sitting in the grass between the headstones and writing in my journal. so i loved this very much. walked around quite a bit, not sprinting at all, just taking it in and doing the side quest there

also emmrich and bellara are team "upbeat and kind, reveal their traumatizing backstory, then go back to normal like that never came up!" omg they.... i wish there was a "hug companion" button

i went to the anderfels after but i was feeling a bit overstimulated with all the stuff i learned! but i will def play more later because i am dying to find out more

[wowstrawberrycow]

Oh, goodness! It looks like someone strung up some mistletoe! What three couples (or throuples!) got stuck together underneath and how’d they react?

Ok so this prompt inspired me to do something so much fun!!

Setting it up with some notes!⬇️

(This is the partyverse!!! Totally planning on making a partyverse timeline master list too btw! Thank you for the inspiration y’all! Lol this is totally connected to my 7 minutes in heaven prompt 🤣! In my prompt timeline, this happens before the 7 minutes in heaven one. I’m gonna say that the 7 minutes in heaven one is on New Years lol Lindir is too invested in his fun to join his lovies at the New Year's party. After Adar had Brimby in the closet they went outside to talk to gil-gadaddy about them being poly with one another! I absolutely will alter what I need to in order for these prompts to connect!🤣 I'm on a mission now!!!)

December 21st 

Once upon a lovely winter holiday, there was a glorious party at Elrond’s homely house in Rivendell. He invited many of his friends across Middle Earth to celebrate the solstice with him. He was happy to accommodate all who attended with a beautiful fireplace to settle down with many stories to tell and a plentiful banquet table. Even the passers-by who happened upon his gracious home were welcome to partake as usual.

Lindir X Elrond X Thranduil

Lindir had waited all year for this moment. He chest tightened as he spied the mistletoe he had hung in the doorway not long before the party had started. Tonight was the night. He was going to say it for real this time. ‘I’m going to ask him… I can do it.’ he took a steadying breath before he could finish his thoughts. The feeling of mature loving lips fluttered in his mind just as the butterflies did upon his stomach. He closed his eyes, savoring the imaginary bliss. However, upon opening them he felt his heart sink. The sight of the tall blonde bending down to cling to his secret love had him gasping. He turned away before he could witness them lock lips Out of sight in a far-off corner of the room. No one in the room noticed them but Lindir.

Silently he had exited the party hall with sharp pains in his stomach and chest. He had no tears to cry; for those were much too hard to evoke. Instead, a heavy feeling of regret befell him. Why hadn’t he spoken sooner? Would it have even mattered? He thought there was something odd about Elrond’s situation with Thranduil. The man was visiting multiple times a year. Elrond had also visited Thranduil in a similar accord. It all made sense now… How could he compete with the elven king? He was only a lowly council member… He hung his head in embarrassment. How could he be so foolish? 

His thoughts were soon broken to a gentle touch of his shoulder. Lindir jerked his head up in surprise. Shock soon filled his face when he spied Thranduil on one side and Elrond on the other. “What? What is it, my lord and king?” Lindir bowed his head in respect.

“Oh, I think you know.” Thranduil leaned on the man with alcohol already on his breath. He laid his head playfully over Lindir’s shoulder. The blonde already was tipsy with boldness.

Elrond rolled his eyes. With a shake of his head, then he gently patted Lindir’s hair. “I’m Very much aware of your pining my dear. I just wasn’t sure how far it went until tonight. The pretty bit of greenery you had hung was a sweet gesture. I suppose I assumed correctly then? Was that meant for you and I?”  

“I- I… My Lord, I can explain..” Lindir stuttered, baffled with nervousness dripping from every part of him.

“You know Daddy, He is very cute. I don’t mind at all so long as I am allowed time with him as well.” Thranduil hummed lower, ignoring the man's sputtering. Alcohol surely was the culprit of such behavior. 

“D-Daddy?” Lindir gasped, covering his mouth with wide eyes.

To this Thranduil smirked, leaning into Lindir’s side. The shorter man stood there with a gaping mouth, looking between Elrond and Thranduil. He was quite unsure what to do with himself.

“Doll, play nice with him.” Elrond took a scolding tone when eyeing the blonde with a dominant warning in his eyes.

“ Oh fine.” Thranduil huffed quite pouty towards his dom’s command. Though ultimately he obeyed.

Lindir was still quite speechless. After a moment he desperately needed confirmation, “I-I... Are you both insinuating what I suspect?” 

“ Yes. I believe so my dear. That is if you’re interested in us both. My doll is very special to my heart. But, if you can allow yourself to feel loved by us both then I will gladly have you at my side in that way.” Elrond spoke softly, caressing Lindir’s cheek.

  “Y-Yes.. I think I could try.” He eyed Thranduil shyly then peeked at Elrond with a dark blush rushing to his cheeks. 

With that, the two men hauled Lindir inside where the party was merry. No one paid the trio any mind as the two each kissed one of Lindir’s cheeks. It seemed harmless enough for the time of year. The joyful season called for snuggling close and expressions of innocent affection. Even as the three sat by the fire closely as they shared their stories, their new relationship fell on oblivious eyes. Or so they thought. 

Legolas X Gimli

Legolas was a rather observant elf. They people watched often so seeing their father in the arms of Elrond was quite expected. They had witnessed the two of them subtly longing for each other and exchanging sweet brief kisses on the lips every chance they had. No secrets could be kept from Legolas for very long. Speaking of kisses it was about time for their fair share. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Legolas snickered seeing their husband downing beer. They had to laugh at the dwarf’s rosy drunken face. This also was very expected.

“What do ye want, ye leafy twig? Can’t ye see I’m in the middle-” Gimli was cut off by the elf scooping him up in their arms.

Legolas chuckled, running off to the mistletoe. After seeing their father enjoying it they wanted their fill of it too. Such fun kissing games were. 

Gimli chuckled drunkenly while giving his spouse’s hair a playful tug, “Now wait just a minute you cheeky canary, I am not a teddy bear you can just run off-” His rant was then cut off by Legolas once again. 

Before the dwarf knew it he was under the mistletoe sharing a deeply passionate kiss with his spouse. He soon grew content to settle in his lover's arms. All that truly mattered on this night was that they shared it together. This thought made his heart sing. He hummed, laying his head against Legolas’ shoulder. “ Why don’t we take this to the balcony? A serenade is bubbling in me, my beautiful gem. I need to share it with ye before it fades.” 

Legolas felt their heart pitter-patter with glee. Their husband’s poetry always made them feel weak in the very greatest of ways. “How could I resist my dearest wish’s proposal? However, I request you write it down this time. Or I shall have to scribe it for you. I do not want to lose any of my darling's beautiful words on this night. I’ll immortalize it for my eyes only.” Legolas gushed as they sped out of the room with their husband and pack in their arms.  

Gil-galad X Celebrimbor (Brimby)- In my perfect shipper world these 2 are happy and very much in love. If you read the 7 minute in heaven prompt you also will know that eventually Adar joins them! Just wait Adar my beloved you too shall be loved soon!

Celebrimbor was beginning to feel left out. After seeing several others partake in the little game brought on by Lindir’s hanging mistletoe, He could feel his eyes wander over to his King. A faint blush busted his cheeks. With a bit of courage, he tapped Gil-galad’s shoulder. “Darling, do you mind stepping over with me? If it’s not too much trouble.” he looked between his dom and the greenery that hung in the doorway. “I know you like to catch up with everyone and-” Brimby stammered nervously, trailing off into silence.

Gil-galad’s heart swelled with a light akin to liquid as he watched his sweet little mouse chatter on. Such a darling little thing he was. Gil-galad couldn’t hold back his grin while placing a finger against his lover’s lips to cease his mumbling. “You know I always have time for you. Come my dear.” He offered Celebrimbor an arm as they made their way across the room.

Brimby leaned in, snuggling close to his King. There truly was no other place he’d rather be than in his handsome lover’s arms, “Thank you my King.” he could already feel his mind growing fuzzier with anticipation as a softer headspace slowly befell his mind. That of a princess he’d soon be. Once under the mistletoe, the mouse peeked up at it, then shyly spied his king. 

“Well, go on my dear. Show your King those beautiful lips.” he coaxed the timid little mouse from his arm. Then with the most gentle hand, he guided his submissive to stand in front of him. 

Celebrimbor obeyed his King’s pillowy order, by tilting his head up with his lips puckered timidly and ready.

“That’s my sweet princess. Such a good boy.” Gil-galad leaned down whispering praise into his mousey princess’s ear.

This evoked a soft shiver that ran down Celebrimbor’s spine. A small whimper escaped his lips when he felt his King’s grace of his own with a feathery peck. It was a teasing touch, this only meant one thing. Brimby gulped, before speaking up “ May I please have another that is deeper and passionate my King?” he asked in the sweetest voice he could.

“Of course darling. I’m so proud of you for using your words to speak what you desire.” Gil-galad stroked his princess’ cheek before locking lips with him fully. He slipped his tongue in expertly exploring his mouse’s mouth. 

By the time Gil-galad had parted from the kiss Celebrimbor felt dazed. His breath hitched with a mild weakness. He couldn’t help but fall into his King’s arms. 

Gil-galad smirked at his princess’s speechless reaction, “Come, sweetness, let us grow warmer by the fire.” The regal man drew Brimby closer to his chest and led his sub to a comfy place where they could snuggle near the heat. His sweet one would need the closeness more than ever since he had fallen into a vulnerable nonverbal state. “You just stay close. I have you, my dear.”

With a small hum, Brimby obeyed his King snuggling deeper into the security his dom provided. Meanwhile, his hand stroked his King’s hair to prevent his floating mind from sailing away completely.

------------------

I had a blast writing this!!!!

I hope you have a wonderful holiday season!!!

☃️🎁🎄

[maratherat]

Wildflowers, a RDR story - 0.3 - Business

Series Masterlist

-Valentine, New Hanover, November 1898-

I am finally done with my tarot card collection. I need to make sure to meet Madam Nazar as soon as I can to get paid for this exhausting job.

Recently, I've taken on several roles, including that of a collector. Along my travels across the states, I've unearthed many fascinating artifacts, and a lovely woman named Madam Nazar compensates well for these treasures. I'm also juggling a job as a naturalist, which entails studying animals to understand their behaviors and lifestyles better. This role can sometimes be dangerous, especially when it comes to interacting with fierce creatures.

Currently, I'm on my way to meet Cripps, who sent me a letter a couple of days ago inviting me to meet near the general store in Valentine. He emphasized the importance of this meeting, hinting that he has a "new idea" to discuss.

As I approach the general store, I spot the old man stepping out, accompanied by a young man carrying a heavy bag of supplies. "Oh, you made it! Follow me," Cripps exclaims upon noticing me. "Now, as I mentioned in my letter, we are going into business! I've been breaking down animals since I was knee-high to a splinter, and I worked as a tanner up in Wisconsin back in the sixties. It's a very long story," he adds, as I glance back at the young man, who seems to be losing patience.

"So, I've got three words for you: Cripps Trading Company." He exclaims with enthusiasm. "Pristine pelts and animal parts, for bulk sale. Now, I know there's a market out there. All I need is a partner. So, I'm thinking you could source the materials: skins, plumes, horns, and the like..." His proposal hangs in the air, and my uncomfortable thoughts drift to the implications of his suggestion. "So I'm supposed to kill the animals? Great, Harriet's going to hate me," I mutter under my breath, recalling the passionate animal rights advocate I know.

"Exactly! I'll process them and prepare them for sale, and then you can head out and make the sales yourself. Heck, we might even enjoy some good meals out of this venture!" Cripps continues, his excitement showing. Just then, the young man behind him drops the heavy bag with a huff, clearly wanting to redirect our conversation. "Why are you still here, Willis?" Cripps asks, almost oblivious to the young man's discomfort.

"Your provisions, Mr. Cripps," Willis replies, gesturing at the bag, clearly stating why he's still waiting. "Oh right!" Cripps responds, dismissing the concern. "Pack the rest on there, will you?" He gestures towards his horse before turning back to me.

"Now, with every opportunity comes a risk. Competitors, thieves, and me potentially losing interest in this whole idea... but if we combine our talents, we'll be unstoppable." He hands Willis a penny for his trouble, to which the young man sighs in disappointment, clearly dissatisfied with his pay. I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, feeling a mixture of apprehension and intrigue as we potentially embark on this new adventure. "And when we're rich, you'll thank me, saying, 'Cripps, you handsome genius!'" The excitement in Cripps's voice is evident as he mounts his horse, a gleam of ambition in his eye. He seems ready to charge off at any moment, fresh plans swirling in his mind. "I highly doubt that," I mutter under my breath, skepticism clouding my thoughts.

"So, are you in?" he asks, his enthusiasm unabated. 'Eh, what the hell?' I think, weighing the prospects. "Sure, I'll do it," I reply, deciding to take the plunge. "Good! You won't regret this. I already own a small wagon and most of what we'll need in terms of initial supplies. If you can grab that and bring it back to camp, we'll get everything set up. This is gonna be fun!" he says, urging his horse into a trot as he sets off from town. "See you later!" I call after him.

Feeling a mix of anticipation and fatigue, I head over to the saloon, craving a well-deserved drink. The establishment is fairly empty at this hour, casting a subdued atmosphere over the place. To my surprise, my friend Sam is behind the bar today. "Hey!" I call out, trying to catch his attention. "I'll take a whiskey, please." I slide a penny onto the bar, watching as he finishes cleaning a plate.

"I'll give you your usual, then?" he asks lightly, glancing up at me.

"Sure," I reply with a sigh, taking a seat at the wooden bar.

"Tough day? You look like shit," he remarks, his tone edged with concern.

"Yeah, I feel like shit too," I chuckle, resting my head on my hand as I try to shake off the weariness. Sam moves around, preparing a plate of fried chicken, the scent wafting through the air, making my stomach flutter but not with hunger. He sets the plate in front of me, the aroma usually inviting, now making me feel nauseous.

"You know what? Actually, I'm not hungry," I say, gently pushing the plate away.

"I made you a meal, and you don't want it? How ungrateful! I'll eat it myself then," he declares, not wasting a moment in grabbing the plate back and devouring the crispy pieces of chicken. "I fucking love fried chicken, man..." he mutters contentedly, clearly lost in his own enjoyment.

I can't help but chuckle at his antics.

Lately, we've teamed up to help Mrs. LeClerk avenge her husband's death. While Sam has been working as a bartender in Valentine, I've been busy collecting valuables, studying animals, hunting bounties, and now apparently starting a trading company.

"I've got another meeting in Emerald Ranch, and I don't think I can do it, it's too much," I sigh, feeling the weight of my various tasks. Sam raises an eyebrow at me, amusement written across his face. "You know, no one is forcing you to juggle all those jobs," he says, speaking with his mouth full.

I rise from my stool, adjusting my hat as I prepare to leave. "I know, but I need the money, and it feels good when people appreciate the work I do," I shrug. "I'll catch you later, partner." I wave at Sam, who nods in response.

As I make my way to Emerald Ranch, Scrawny Nag plods alongside me, his gait unsteady. Yes, I decided to name my horse Scrawny Nag; it just fits him. A letter had arrived recently, asking me to meet a certain Maggie Fike at Emerald Ranch, without offering much detail, except that it involves moonshine. I briefly wavered on whether to ignore the request, but the lure of making some money—and alcohol, was too tempting to resist.

When I arrive at the abandoned, rundown house at Emerald Ranch, I dismount and take a moment to gather myself before heading toward it. The wooden structure looks weathered, its paint peeling, hinting at years of neglect but still standing firm against the elements. With a deep breath, I approach, ready to see what awaits inside.

I slowly push the door open, scanning my surroundings; this could end very badly. As I step inside the dimly lit house, the air feels still, carrying a slight mustiness that hints at abandonment. The interior is sparsely furnished, with worn-out chairs and a table covered in a thin layer of dust, giving the place an eerie atmosphere. A few faded pictures hang on the walls, their subjects unrecognizable behind the grime. I cautiously take a few steps further when a voice cuts through the silence: "You must be Cripps' friend?"

I turn to see a woman standing there, her presence striking yet unsettling. Half of her face is scarred by burns, giving her a fierce appearance that commands attention. I nod in acknowledgment, slightly taken aback by her directness. "I'll try not to hold that against you. The name's Maggie. Thanks for coming!" she says, stepping closer, her voice strong despite the scars.

Just then, the same door I entered swings open abruptly, and I turn to see Cripps walking in, his jovial energy filling the room. "She's back!" he exclaims excitedly, grinning widely.

"Cripps? Did you know I was coming here?" I ask, recognizing the same man I encountered earlier that day.

"Maybe—" His words are abruptly cut off when Maggie pulls up her cane, which actually seems to be a riffle, and fires a shot at Cripps' feet. He jumps back, eyes wide with surprise.

"What the hell?" he screams, his cheerful demeanor vanishing in an instant.

"Damn, I missed it, didn't I?" Maggie replies, annoyance creeping into her voice. "Don't come in like a bull through the fence next time, you old fool! Your friend here managed to get it right," she points at me, her expression softening slightly.

"'Lightning' Maggie Fike! We all thought you were dead!" Cripps approaches her, the tone turning nostalgic.

"Yeah? Well, so did I!" she snaps back, her frustration evident.

"I guess you'll be wanting a drink?" she adds, a hint of humor returning.

"I know I will," I respond, eager for a break from the tension.

"Come on, give me a hand," Maggie urges Cripps, who turns to me with an amused smirk. "Biggest mistake of my life was not marrying this woman when I had the chance," he admits, his tone playful. I chuckle at that, enjoying their banter.

"Yeah, you always had a colorful memory of things," Maggie scoffs, handing us each empty glasses. "As you can see, I've hit my prime."

"Well, I heard what happened with Hixon, that evil son of a bitch. Where you been all this time?" Cripps pours us drinks, which I quickly grab, feeling the warmth of the moonshine already.

"Recovering, lying low. Could hardly get out of bed for six months," Maggie sighs, the weight of her past evident in her eyes.

"And your nephew?" Cripps asks, genuine concern in his voice. I lean in, eager to catch up on their shared history.

"Lem? Still in jail, as far as I know," she responds, her expression a mix of resignation and irritation.

"Eh... seen Danny-Lee yet?" I zone out slightly, the details of their conversation blending together in my mind, but I catch snippets of their connection and concern.

"Oh yeah, I've seen him. He's cooking for the Braithwaites now. Guess me and him are done," she says, taking a sip of her drink as if washing away memories.

"Well, there's always Marcel. Heard he's not working for LeClerk anymore. The feller's a windbag, but he knows his way around a still," Cripps adds, his tone shifting back to familiarity.

"Yeah... maybe. Feels like it would be easier for everyone if I just stayed gone. But life ain't about being easy; I'm taking back what's mine. I just need legs and muscles," Maggie replies, her voice rising in intensity, anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Well, you'll get that with this one. I promise you," Cripps says, pointing at me, suddenly making me feel self-conscious under their strong gazes.

"The two of us have a nice little business going," he exaggerates.

"Cripps, you're pushing it a little too far..." I warn him, trying to deflect the attention as the weight of their expectations begins to settle heavily on my shoulders.

"Well, as long as you know it won't be pretty. I don't do pretty anymore," Maggie states firmly, her expression serious. She leans forward slightly, her scarred face lit by the dim light in the room. "First things first, I need a cookhouse with a good basement. I reckon I could get one of my old spots up and running. The bastards seized them all after the raid... You buy me one of those back, and you'll have a fair investment. I'll teach you everything I know, so what do you say?" She slides a worn map of her former cookhouses across the table, the creases and smudges telling stories of past ventures.

I decide it's best if I choose a cookhouse near Emerald Ranch, "Sure, I'll do it," I reply, shaking her hand with a firm grip, a sense of determination settling in.

"Alright, partners it is," she confirms, her tone confident . "Meet me back there when you can, and we'll figure out what else we need once we're set up." With that, Maggie stands up and strides purposefully toward the door, her movements confident despite the scars that mark her path.

"Can I offer you a ride, Miss Fike?" Cripps asks, his attempt to convince her seeming genuine as he gestures to his horse.

"I suppose so!" she sighs, her tone lightening a bit as she relents. I finish my drink and follow them outside, the cool air greeting me as I step into the fading sunlight. I bid them farewell, watching as they head off, chattering away.

As I turn to make my way back to my camp, I can't help but reflect on the multitude of roles I've taken on. Bounty hunter, moonshiner, trader, naturalist, collector, hitman, outlaw... That's quite a few titles if you ask me. Each one carries its own weight and set of expectations, and I wonder how long I can juggle them all before something slips through the cracks. The anticipation of my new partnership with Maggie stirs a sense of excitement, mingled with the anxiety of the challenges that lie ahead.

-

Sam belongs to @sam-vdl , all RDR characters belong to rockstar games.

[queeniecook]

I Found What I Was Looking For - Part 3

Love Day arrives. The kids make valentines at school and pass them out. Eat candy. Think their parents’ kissing is gross. The normal stuff.

Pak and I spend the entire day together.

Even though we have been together for years, it turned out to be one of my favorite days we have spent together. Maybe it was because we just slowed down and enjoyed being with each other. We got to reflect on our lives together. How we met. How we fell for each other but were both stubborn about admitting our feelings for each other. Our marriage. Our kids. Our life.

We also celebrated “Egg Day” which including a visit from someone dressed in a giant bunny outfit and the kids hunting eggs we had hidden in the bushes and behind things for them. We didn’t really have grass to hide them in, so we had to improvise a bit.

❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧❧

At the very start of summer, I get sad news.

I suppose one would ask why I’d cry over the man who broke my heart when I was young. We had made amends in the past. Hadn’t talked in years. But what I went through with Brandon had made me appreciate Pak and his love even more. It had given me most of the drive I needed to succeed in my career. He was still a human being. A flawed one. But we all have our flaws. I know I do. Even though he had broken my heart. A small part of it still cared for him. So yes, when I heard he had passed away. It did make me sad.

The kids wanted to go to the beach that night, I agreed. Wanting to get out of the house. Distract myself. It makes me happy to see them doing stuff together. Having fun.

“I know now it not a good time. But I figured I might as well tell you when you’re already sad, instead of ruining things when you’re happy.” Pak starts out.

That didn’t make me nervous at all.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you this. Or if I even should, but knowing you. I know you’ll want to be prepared.” He continues.

“Okay. Just tell me.” I tell him. If he kept going without saying it, I was going to get more nervous.

“Since I am a merman. We tend to have longer life spans than humans.” Pak started to explain. “I’m going to out live you, Evie.”

My heart broke. Not for me, but for him. I tried not to cry, the kids are nearby. All this never occurred to me.

“That doesn’t mean anything is going to happen anytime soon.” He added on, seeing my face. “I knew this all along. I knew it when I started to fall for you. I think that was part of the reason I was afraid to.” Pak admitted.

I’m just still trying to process what he’s telling me. He grabs me and holds me.

“But I don’t regret anything. You’re the one I’m meant to be with. Until the end.” He tells me, holding me close.

It’s a lot to deal with. I didn’t want to leave any of them behind. Somehow, I always thought I’d out live him. I was very wrong.

We end the night with a bonfire. I put the conversation in the back of my mind and enjoy the time with my family.

The next day comes. It’s time for me to bake another cake. I couldn’t believe it. It doesn’t seem possible. My little girl is getting older.

We’re all there when she blows out her candles. I’m thankful we all get to see this moment together.

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My name is Evie Jean Grant-Uha. I’ve been through heartbreak and triumph. I have loved and lost. Found real love. Found family in my husband, kids and cats. I have my home. I have succeeded in going from having nothing to being wealthy. I have found what I was looking for. What I was longing for. I have no regrets.

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The start of Generation 2

Note from Queenie – This is the end of Generation 1