#something with a speaker built in preferably…

[jinjurloaf]

i need a cd player

[applereid]

— HIS CAMGIRL, DEAN WINCHESTER.

MDNI smut, camgirl!user, male masturbation

Was Dean the type of man to indulge in something like this? Absolutely. More than anyone else he knew, Dean was aware— unapologetically— that this was exactly his kind of thing.

He sat alone in a dimly lit motel room, the familiar creak of the mattress beneath him as he leaned back against the headboard. Sam was out— running errands or maybe chasing a lead— and Dean knew he had time. Time to unwind in his own way. With one hand he began to unbutton his jeans, the other deftly maneuvering the mouse of his aging laptop until he landed on a site he knew far too well.

BecomeACamGirl.com

His preferred distraction. His favorite money sink. Hundreds of dollars funneled through fraudulent credit cards, all to indulge in moments of digital intimacy that felt far too real. He justified it easily— if the money wasn’t theirs to begin with, then why not spend it on something that made him feel something?

And then there was you.

Or rather, Sugar— your screen name, sweet and simple, but with a bite that matched your smile. You were his weakness. The way you spoke to him in chat, the way you said his name— moaned his name—it drove him to the brink every single time. It wasn’t just lust. It was obsession, tangled with the illusion of connection.

He clicked through to your profile. You were live. Thank God.

It had been weeks since he’d had the chance. Sam had been glued to his side lately, and solo moments like these were becoming rare. But now— now he had you.

“Dean,” your voice purred through the speakers, sultry and teasing. You sat on the floor of your softly lit bedroom, framed by plush carpet and shadows. Lingerie hugged your curves like a second skin. “Nice of you to join. Was starting to miss my favorite boy.” You smiled, biting your bottom lip just enough to make his heart race.

Dean let out a breathless chuckle, jeans and boxers shoved down in one practiced motion. He typed with one hand, the other already gripping the base of his aching cock as he sent a $50 tip along with a message.

Dean: Missed you, sweet thing.

You glanced to the side to read it, your smile widening as you spoke. “You remember the last time you were here? Bought me something off my wishlist?” You leaned off camera for a moment.

Oh, he remembered. A white lace lingerie set— soft, delicate, almost innocent. He’d imagined you in it for days. Then, he imagined it crumpled on your bedroom floor.

You returned, holding the set between two fingers like a promise. “Should I go put this on for you guys?” you asked, your voice light with a playful lilt. You giggled as you scrolled through the chat.

Dean didn’t hesitate. His body moved on instinct, fingers flying over the keys as the tension in him built higher.

Dean: Fuck yeah.

After stepping off-screen for a few moments, you return to view— Dean’s white lingerie hugging your curves, your hair now loose around your shoulders. With a coy, knowing smile, you sit back down, settling gracefully as you flash a bashful grin to the camera.

“Do you like it?” you murmur, your voice soft and teasing. Leaning back on your palms, you subtly adjust your posture, striking a few flattering poses to show off your body in all the right angles.

On the other side of the screen, Dean exhales sharply. Without hesitation, he spits into the palm of his hand and rewraps it around the base of his cock, slicking himself up slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

You reach off camera and return with a pastel pink dildo, bringing it into view with a lazy smile. You drizzle lube into your free hand, the bottle making a soft sound as you apply it, then start stroking the toy with practiced ease.

“God, baby… you’re so big,” you whisper breathlessly, eyes flicking up toward the camera, every word dipped in desire.

“Let me taste you. Please? Want you in my mouth,” you plead softly, your lips forming a pout as you lean in, giving the silicone tip a slow, deliberate lick while holding eye contact with the lens.

Dean lets out a low groan, whispering as if you could actually hear him. “Yeah… you can,” he mutters, nodding to himself, immersed entirely in the illusion that you’re in the room with him.

His breath catches as he watches you take the toy fully into your mouth, lips stretched around the shaft until you reach the base. When you pull back, a glistening string of spit connects your lips to the toy, and his grip tightens reflexively.

Dean’s imagination runs wild— wondering how your throat would feel around him. Could you handle all of him? Would you gag? Would you moan around him, tears in your eyes as you took every inch?

You moan softly, your free hand rising to cup your chest as you begin sucking on the toy once more, slow and sensual.

“Fuck, sugar,” Dean groans, closing his eyes for a moment, hips jerking upward into his own hand as pleasure courses through him.

“Cum for me, baby,” you whisper sweetly, pulling off the dildo and stroking it slowly, resting your cheek against it as you gaze into the camera with wide, pleading eyes.

“I’m cumming, sugar… fuck,” he gasps, his voice low and broken. With a series of quiet grunts, Dean finishes into his hand, his body tensing as he rides out the wave, breath stuttering in his chest.

You smile softly, reading through the flood of chat messages and generous tips rolling in. One by one, thank-you notes and donations appear— until Dean’s $300 tip pops up, rocketing him from second place to the coveted top spot: your highest tipper of the night.

Dean: Until next time, sweet girl.

“Thank you all for coming tonight. Thank you, Dean.” you say gently, your voice dripping with satisfaction. “You were amazing. I’ll see you next time, yeah? And don’t forget, there’s a new $20 chat option if you ever want to talk one-on-one.”

Dean’s eyes narrow with interest at that last line, watching as the camera clicks off and your profile reappears on screen. He grabs a towel from beside the bed, cleaning himself off as he scans the new feature you teased.

A direct message option—private access to you, his favorite camgirl. For $20, he could talk to you directly, one-on-one.

He smirks.

He just might have to give that a try.

[eringobragh420]

¡! ❞ can you hold me? (1/5)

➺ pairing — damian priest ♥︎ f!reader ➺ summary — damian’s fiancée receives a head injury during a match resulting in amnesia. ➺ links — one. two. three. four. five. ➺ words — 3.4k ➺ warnings — head injury, hospital setting ➺ notes — spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by google translate.  ➺ taglist — if you’d like to be added, please click here! 

➺ MASTERLIST ➺ DAMIAN PRIEST MASTERLIST

THE INJURY

The atmosphere in Gorilla was cool, calm, and collected, as that’s the way Triple H preferred to work. Everyone had a job, a place, and they were all in position for the upcoming match. Your match. Tyson Kidd was just getting seated at his spot in front of a monitor一as the producer of your segment with Liv Morgan, he would oversee the timing of the match and, through the headset he donned, prepare the cameramen for where you both would be and what shot would be best. Tyson gave you a thumbs up and a comforting smile, as he was quite familiar with the nerves you’d built up over the past several weeks of working with him and Liv. You were confident in your skill set, you were optimistic about your growing number of fans, and you deserved to be here.

That last sentiment had been drilled into your head by your fiancé, who stood before you now. Looking up into Damian’s sparkling eyes, you momentarily lost your edge and your fiery competitiveness, replaced by the melting of your heart and the softening of your soul. You stopped bouncing from one foot to the other when he cupped your face in his warm, rough hands and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“I love you,” he said, voice so deep it was almost inaudible over the various conversations being held around you.

You clutched his wrists, and your foreheads came together. “I love you, too,” you said.

Damian quickly kissed your lips, knowing if he lingered, neither of you would be able to pull away. “Be safe,” he told you. “You got this.” Pulling away, he initiated the intricate handshake known only to the two of you—the simple act giving you butterflies every single time—which ended with your pinky fingers wrapped around the other’s, and the two of you shared an intimate, knowing smile, saying everything, but speaking nothing.

Your music hit, the crowd cheered, and your heart began to pound. After a few deep breaths and the cue from production, you made your way through the curtain, revealing yourself to the sold out audience. The roar became even louder as you skipped down the ramp, slapping hands, high-fiving fans, and even snapping a few selfies with some of your younger fans. You promised to revisit the little girl dressed nearly identical to you, having it in your mind to gift her a souvenir of some sort from your gear at the end of the night. 

After rousing the crowd for a few more minutes, Liv’s music chimed through the speakers of the arena, and you thought the roof might come off. Liv was incredibly popular, heel or not, so you’d expected her reception to be much grander than yours, but you couldn’t help but imagine yourself standing in the middle of the ring, holding that beautiful Women’s World Championship title above your head proudly. Your star was on the rise, and those words had been spoken first by Shawn Michaels when you were on NXT, then by Triple H when you’d made your first main roster appearance on Raw. Unfortunately, you would take the pin tonight, and there was no way for you not to feel a little jealous, but, you were assured, it was all part of a bigger plan.

The first half of the match was flawless. You and Liv worked well together, anticipating each other’s moves without much need for whispering what the next run would be. As per the plan, you suplexed Liv onto the canvas before scrambling for the nearest ring post where you climbed to the top rope. This is where you were supposed to perform your finisher, which Liv would kick out of, but something went wrong, and suddenly you were falling. Falling wouldn’t be a big deal if you had landed on the canvas, but you fell backward, and your loss of equilibrium beforehand sent you head and neck first onto the padded floor. Your light blinked out, and the world was black and silent.

Damian watched you fall on the television monitor in Gorilla, and he uncrossed his arms to grab at his head. The entire arena became deadly quiet, and Damian waited barely two seconds for you to get up or move or do something, and when you only laid there, he started for the entrance ramp.

“Priest, wait,” Triple H commanded, standing and removing his glasses. Nearby Jey Uso slipped an arm around Damian’s waist to keep him from exiting Gorilla. “Just give her a second.”

“She looks fuckin’ dead, are you kidding me?” Damian shouted, making a second attempt at escaping. Jey held tight, and Damian looked down at him. “If it was your girl?” he rasped, brows knitted, fighting tears.

Jey tilted his head, offended Damian would bring up such a valid point, but he rolled his eyes and let the taller man go. 

Minutes later, when your eyes sluggishly opened, your vision was blurry and your head felt like it was in a vice. So many different voices were shouting around you, but they seemed far away. Were they yelling at you? What happened? You tried to sit up, but dizziness overwhelmed you, dropping you back to a floor that wasn’t as hard as it should have been, and your eyes closed in an effort to slow the spinning. 

“Baby, can you hear me?”

“Where’s the gurney?”

Gurney? Your eyes opened again, this time both a little less blurry and a little less dizzy, but the pain in your skull continued to worsen. So many people surrounded you, none of whom you recognized. One face, however, stood out—a handsome face, you noticed, despite the excruciating hammering in your brain, with the most concerned expression tugging at his tanned features. You didn’t know him, though, never seen him before in your life, so you weren’t sure what he was so upset about. And you weren’t sure why you cared, considering you knew exactly nothing else: why you were on your back, why your head threatened to explode, why you seemed to be the center of attention. And why were you dressed in a pretty costume, and why were there thousands of people staring at you from every direction of a crowded arena? Why?

“Can you tell me your name?”

You looked up at the man questioning you, and he shone a bright light directly into your sensitive eyes, which snapped shut as you shied away from it. “What?” you whispered.

“Your name,” he repeated. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Yeah, it’s …” You trailed off, eyes sluggishly searching everywhere, looking for nothing, and finding just that. Your name. One of the easiest questions in the world, if not the easiest, but you couldn’t answer. You opened your mouth, hoping the name would simply come spilling out, but nothing happened. Your name. Of course you know your name. “It’s …” The man looked at you expectantly, just as every single other person encircling you was doing, and it suddenly occurred to you that something was wrong. Really wrong. But then your eyes found those concerned ones, and they were still worried, even more so now, but they were lovely, dark and deep, and for some reason, you found comfort in this complete stranger’s gaze. “I—I don’t know …”

“Let’s get her strapped in.”

Strapped in? Your heart raced and you couldn’t catch your breath because you had no idea what that meant or who anyone was or where you were or who you were. Maybe if you looked into those chocolate pools again, everything would go away. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe you were dying. 

“Move! She doesn’t know what the hell is going on and she’s scared to death!”

Those ochre eyes suddenly found yours, and your sigh of relief was audible. He fell to his knees beside you and took your hand in his, and just a bit more relaxation dulled the edges of your nerves. You wished it could do the same for your pain, which was quickly becoming blinding. His skin was coarse and hot, his grip strong and soothing, and your own hand reflexively returned the squeeze.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he said, and his voice was as rich as his irises, and his smile was like staring at the sun, and the pet name had to bear some significance, but for crying out loud, you didn’t know him from Adam. “You can hear me, right?” You nodded, wincing at the pain. “Good. Now listen—” He seemed hesitant to continue, and that ramped up your heart rate. “—you fell, okay? You hit your head, and it knocked you out for a few minutes. With me?” He spoke slowly and clearly, and the appreciation you felt for his patience was immeasurable. You nodded again. He went on to explain that you would be placed in a neck brace before being buckled to a backboard, which would then be lifted onto a gurney, and the gurney loaded onto an ambulance, because you were being taken to the nearest emergency room.

As each step took place, you were a lot less terrified now than you would have been had he not told you what was going to happen. The handsome man never let go of your hand, even when he was advised to by the medics, because your grip tightened every time you thought you might lose the connection. Once on the gurney and completely strapped down, you were wheeled through a narrow corridor between the crowd and the ramp, passing a crying little girl who was dressed similarly to you, the handsome man at your side.

“Priest, where are you going?” an older, bald man asked as they headed down a hallway toward a red exit sign. Priest. Now he had a name, but you didn’t recognize it.

“Where do you think I’m goin’?” Priest asked. “I’m goin’ to the hospital with her.”

“Come on, you can’t do that,” the bald man chuckled. “They’ll take great care of her, and you still have a promo to cut tonight.”

“You okay?” Priest asked you, his tone much softer than when he’d been speaking with the bald man, who clearly was a superior of some kind. You couldn’t nod or speak with the neck brace, so you squeezed his hand. He smiled. 

“Damian.” The bald man stepped in front of him, hand to his chest. Another name? Priest Damian? Or maybe Damian Priest? Neither rang any bells.

“Boss, fire me or get the hell outta my way, because I’m not leavin’ her alone!”

You certainly didn’t want anyone to lose their job over you, but you selfishly refused to release his hand, looking up at him with tears overflowing. Dozens of people, it seemed, surrounded you and apparently knew you, but Priest—or Damian—was the only one you felt like you should know. There had to be a reason he gave you such comfort, a reason he was fighting so hard for you. The bald man relented, however, offering his permission that Priest obviously didn’t need or want, and he and the medics lifted you onto the ambulance. After the medics climbed in after you, Priest followed, helping to close the doors, and he remained seated on the bench near the doors and out of the way of the men assisting you. He kept his hands on one of your glittering boots, though, never once breaking contact as the ambulance activated its lights and sirens feature. Your head felt like it was splitting apart right down the middle and the sudden loud sirens and flashing lights did nothing to help the situation.

Once at the hospital, you had to be separated from Priest in spite of your silent protestations. You held onto the hand of the only person in the world you felt even the slightest connection to, refusing to let go, until he bent down, lips to your ear.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he promised, “and I’ll get back there as soon as I possibly can.” You felt those lips press a warm kiss to the shell of your ear, your body relaxing just the tiniest bit, but it was relief just the same. “I love you, mi vida.”

Your eyes met his, unsure of how to respond. It was plain to see that you and Priest had an intimate relationship, but you didn’t feel a need to respond in kind to his declaration. You didn’t know him—how could you love him? Maybe it was even an unrequited love—maybe he had feelings for you, but you had none for him. That really didn’t seem likely, but the neurons in your brain were firing in every direction and you couldn’t control what kind of thoughts you had, or how many, and you certainly had no clue which ones were correct. If any were correct at all. Fuck, you were so confused.

You were taken to Radiology where they placed you inside the CT machine to assess what kind, if any, of head injury you had. The neck brace was eventually removed when it was determined your spine was intact from brain to base, and you were finally, finally, given medication to help with the pain. Your nerves were frayed, though, especially after all the questions the doctor asked you that you didn’t know the answer to. Like your name, or the year, or the President of the United States. The meds helped to relax you a bit, but you still found yourself looking for Priest. Every time the door opened, you hoped it was him, and every time you were let down when it was just another member of the medical team. You asked for him several times, for Priest, and at one point, an actual priest knocked on your door, ready to pray with you. The longer you were apart, the more anxious you became, and you couldn’t explain it. It was a strange sensation to miss a complete stranger. You sighed, resting your sore head against the uncomfortable pillow. 

Maybe they can’t find him because he left.

At the same time, down the hallway, Damian stood towering over your physician, sinewy, tattooed arms crossed in front of his chest, unintentionally intimidating anyone who laid eyes on him, the doctor included. All talent in the WWE signed paperwork for consent to be treated in the event of an emergency, as well as a form giving the facility permission to share your medical information with anyone you listed, provided that you were unable to do so. Damian Priest was the only name you’d written down. So after you were informed of your current condition, Damian was given the same report.

“She’s obviously severely concussed,” the doctor explained. Damian nodded, listening closely. “But there’s no brain damage, bleeding, or fractures, and when you take into account the height she fell from and the angle … she’s pretty lucky.” Your fall had already been plastered all over social media, so it hadn’t been difficult for Damian to show the doctor exactly how you’d come to be injured.

“She doesn’t know her own name, doc,” Damian snapped, stepping just a bit closer to the smaller man. “How’s that lucky?”

The doctor put up his hand, and Damian chewed his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He sucked it into his mouth as he stepped back. “Yes, there’s amnesia. But it should resolve in a few days, maybe a few weeks.”

“Maybe a few months? A few years?” Damian was angry about the situation and taking it out on the wrong person. He should have been there to protect you, catch you when you tumbled off the turnbuckle—what the hell kind of husband would be if he couldn’t save you? And would he ever be a husband at all? What if you never regained your memories, despite the doctor’s confident assurance that it would take less than a month for you to recover? Damian put his own hands up in an effort to pause the conversation before it got out of control, and he scrubbed his hands over his face. “When can I take her home?”

“We’re gonna keep her overnight for observation, so probably tomorrow, possibly the next day.”

Maybe a week from now! Damian wanted to scream at the doctor who seemed to know precisely nothing for certain about your recovery. He bitterly thanked the small man before asking to be shown to your room. Taking a deep breath, he knocked gently, and your tiny voice granted him entrance. He stepped inside immediately, forgetting to take a moment to prepare himself for how you might look. You wore a generic hospital gown now, hair and makeup a mess compared to a couple of hours ago, and Damian’s heart sank like the Titanic, his stomach sloshing as if it were a half empty bottle of liquor held by a drunken sailor. He started toward you, fully prepared to gather you in his arms, tell you everything was going to be okay, that he would never stop loving you, and if you ended up like Drew Barrymore’s character in 50 First Dates, he’d love you and take care of you just the same as Adam Sandler did in one of your favorite movies.

“Hey,” he finally greeted you, closing the door behind him before pulling a nearby chair next to your bed. He slowly sat down with a sigh, smiling at you, but you could tell the gesture was forced. He looked exhausted, if you were being honest, and you wondered if that was because of you.

“Hey,” you softly replied, idly picking at your nails in your lap.

“The doctor told me … you got some memory loss.” You swallowed, nodding. “So then before, when I kissed you and told you I love you … that was probably weird.” Despite the situation, you smirked, but it was erased quickly by the anguish tugging at the beautiful man’s features. “Well—” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “—my name is Damian Priest. You and I have been together almost four years, and we’re getting married in about five months.”

Surely that would jar loose some memories, you thought, closing your eyes and searching your brain’s files like a goddamn card catalog—dress shopping, cake-tasting, guest lists, invitations—but your investigation turned up nothing. You had no recollection of this man or any of the nearly four years you’d apparently been together, and all you could do at this point was cover your face with your hands and let loose all the tears and sobs you’d been holding inside since being strapped onto that backboard.

“Don’t do that,” Damian begged, “don’t cry.” Because he couldn’t fucking do anything about it! “Look at me.” The desperation in his voice had you taking several deep breaths, calming the hiccuping in your throat, and once you were sure the crying wouldn’t continue, you dropped your hands from your face. It took you a few moments to actually open your eyes and meet his gaze, though. Familiar, like an acquaintance from many years ago, is all you felt when you locked eyes, and you thought this was a fate worse than death. “Everything is gonna be okay. I swear to you, everything will be okay.” You wanted to believe him, but that was a tricky path to follow.

“I guess they’re keeping me here tonight,” you said, because everything was just too much and all you wanted to do was sleep. Surely when you woke up, all of your memories would be labeled and in their proper brain files and you and your fiancé would drive off into the sunset together. Damian looked at you for a moment before nodding. “Um—” you stammered. “Will you please stay with me?”

“Of course, querida,” Damian replied, instinctively reaching for your hand until he was reminded of the situation, and he locked his hands together between his knees. “I’ll be wherever you want me to be.”

When finally you fell asleep, and Damian clicked the light off, he sat back down, delicately taking your tiny hand into both of his where it disappeared between them. He leaned forward so he could kiss the back of your hand, one kiss after another, then he pressed his forehead there and closed his eyes. You would be okay, he told himself. You had to be—he’d sworn to you that you would be, and he wasn’t about to break his second promise to you.

➺ Mi vida — My life ➺ Querida — Beloved/dearest

[p0orbaby]

I have an idea for Leah. Maybe Leah preparing to propose to reader? Like picking out the ring, arranging the plans to do it & what to say. Being super stressed that it goes well.

-

The engagement ring is currently sitting in the drawer of Leah’s bedside table. It’s been there for three days. That’s seventy-two hours of her life spent mentally cycling through increasingly absurd ways to ask you to marry her—none of which feel remotely good enough. Yesterday, she briefly considered hiring a flash mob but abandoned the idea when she realised she couldn’t name a single person in her life who would willingly agree to dance in public.

The ring itself is a masterpiece—or, at least, Leah tells herself it is, because the thought of you hating it makes her chest constrict like a bad asthma attack. It’s a gold band, delicate but not fragile, and the diamond is small but impossibly bright, practically nuclear under artificial light. It reminds her of you. Elegant, unassuming, but blindingly brilliant. She spent hours debating between gold and platinum, flipping through online forums and texting Beth for advice, only to be told: Mate, just get what she’ll actually like. Helpful.

She chose gold, naturally, because you once mentioned in passing that platinum felt too cold. You probably don’t even remember saying it, but Leah does. She remembers everything. Like the fact you can’t stand carnations (“soulless flowers”) and that you always eat the crusts off your toast first because it’s more “structurally satisfying.” She’s built this proposal on a foundation of your quirks and preferences. It’s practically a thesis at this point.

Her plan is a dinner reservation at that restaurant—the one with the hand-written menus and waiters who always remember you like your wine dry. She’s already called them to arrange for a quieter table in the corner, away from the clatter of silverware and the prying eyes of other diners. She’s even considered what to wear: a crisp, white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the perfect midpoint of her forearms (which you once confessed makes her look “obnoxiously fit”) and tailored trousers she had altered just last week.

But even with all this planning, Leah feels like she’s holding a ticking bomb. She’s stressed in a way she hasn’t been since that penalty shootout against Brazil. She’s pacing the flat now, her steps echoing faintly on the hardwood floor. “This is ridiculous,” she mutters under her breath. “It’s just a question. Four words. Five if I add a ‘please.’ Six if I say her full name.”

“You alright there?” Beth’s voice crackles through the speakerphone, equal parts curious and entertained. Leah forgot she left her phone on the kitchen counter, still connected to the ongoing call.

“I’m fine,” Leah says, glaring at her phone like it’s personally betrayed her.

“No, you’re not. You’re spiralling”

“I’m not spiralling”

“You’re literally pacing like a dad waiting for news in a hospital drama”

Leah stops pacing. “I just… I want it to be perfect”

“It will be perfect. She loves you, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, but what if she hates the ring?”

“She won’t”

“What if she says no?”

“She won’t”

“What if I say something stupid like, ‘I can’t wait to do your taxes together’?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Beth’s laughter bursts through the speaker like an explosion. “Honestly, that’s probably exactly what she’d expect from you”

Leah groans, rubbing her hands over her face. “This isn’t funny”

“It’s a little funny”

She ends the call before Beth can continue her unsolicited pep talk and sits down on the sofa, staring at the box in her hand. It’s absurdly light, considering the weight it carries. She snaps it open, then shut. Open, shut. Like the world’s most expensive stress toy.

You walk into the flat a few hours later, shrugging off your coat with a small sigh. Leah, who’s been pretending to read the same page of a book for the past twenty minutes, immediately tenses. The ring box is hidden in her pocket now, a phantom weight pressing against her thigh.

“Hey,” you say, dropping onto the sofa beside her. “You alright? You look… weird”

She blinks at you, heart pounding. “Weird?”

“Yeah. Like you’ve seen a ghost or just remembered you left the oven on”

She laughs nervously, her hand twitching towards her pocket. The words are there—Will you marry me?—but they stick to her throat, stubborn and immovable.

“Leah?” you prompt, looking at her curiously.

And just like that, she panics.

“Do you want takeaway tonight?” she blurts, the words spilling out in a rush. “I’m thinking Thai”

You raise an eyebrow but nod. “Sure. Thai sounds good”

The proposal will have to wait. Again.

[lushrue]

thinking real heavy about phone sex with price while he’s deployed (afab!reader, nsfw under the cut, minors do not interact!!)

cw: mutual masturbation, very light breathplay, author has never written smut before 😅

you can hear it in his voice the minute he picks up the phone. he’s tense, frustrated, wired. he’s got this growly tone that you jokingly call his “grizzly bear voice.” it only comes out when too many somethings or somebodys have pissed him off, and that’s not uncommon when he’s out on a mission. he’s so passionate about what he does, one of the things that made you fall in love with him. so the least you can do is provide him with some relief, right?

“love,” you murmur into the phone, cutting off his rant about some recruit running off half-cocked and almost compromising their position. he sighs exasperatedly and you can almost hear him slumping back in his chair. “yeah, dove?” he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. you smile despite his sour mood, determined to set him right again. “it sounds like you’re in need of some stress relief, hmm?”

you swear you hear him perk up. it was the trigger phrase the two of you had adopted after you had gotten particularly spontaneous and john almost got walked in on by one masked lieutenant. now, those words meant he was rushing to lock the door and set his phone to do not disturb. “i could use some, yeah,” he said, his voice low and husky. he’d already begun to chub up in his cargos, his palm pressing down on the firmness between his legs.

you smile, getting yourself into position as well. after all, it was only fun if you both got something out of it. you slid your shorts off and settled back against the pillows of your shared bed. “i thought you might say that,” you purred, your voice lowering to match his. “you’ve just been working so hard, lovie. and the days are so long, aren’t they? just so pent up and frustrated.”

the telltale sound of his belt buckle clinking meets your ears, followed by the rustling of fabric and a low groan from your boyfriend. “mmm…yeah, doll, ‘m all pent up,” he replied as he thumbed at his head, pre already leaking from the tip of his hard cock. his breath caught in his throat and you knew from that little hitch that he’d started. so you did too, your hand sliding below the waistband of your underwear to find that delicious little bud.

your fingers pinched at your clit, eliciting a gasp and breathy moan from you. you imagined the look on price’s face, the longing he no doubt had to be with you and replace your hands with his. just the thought of having him home in bed with you made your pussy clench, your breathing starting to speed up. his did too, starting to stroke himself slowly. you loved how he dragged sex out when he was home, but with so much distance between you, you’d almost prefer he dropped some of his characteristic restraint. he was a military man first and foremost, and that meant almost supernatural control over his body and its urges.

“touchin’ yourself, pet?” he asked, which you responded to with a whine and murmur of assent. words wouldn’t come to you at the moment. his chuckle sent shockwaves through you, the wet shlick of his hand barely audible through the tinny phone speaker. “good. tha’s my good girl. just keep on like that, keep makin’ y’rself feel good for me.” even thousands of miles away, he still managed to control you. it was scary and exhilarating all at once, the hold he had on you. price shifted on his cot, the pace of his strokes picking up as he shut his eyes and let his own personal porno play out in his head. he’d been with you long enough that he had your body memorized. he could see exactly how you looked sprawled out beneath him, face flushed and so eager for him. the image made him stiffen harder, if that was possible.

you obeyed, of course. you were his good girl after all. the sound of his heavy breathing was enough to get you going good, your chest heaving as the pleasure built in you. your fingers traveled lower, gathering your own slick on your fingers before pressing two inside. it wasn’t the stretch you needed and you whined, scissoring your digits to mimic the width john provided. you heard him coo condescendingly, a blush rising to your cheeks. “what’s the matter, sweet girl? your fingers not doin’ the trick?” you shook your head in reply before remembering he couldn’t see you. “nuh-uh,” you mumble, thrusting in and out in time with the sound of his strokes.

price groaned at the sound of your breathy voice, the way you got all high-pitched and squeaky when you were horny. “need you, i need you so bad,” you continued, putting the phone on speaker so that you could have both your hands free. you laid the phone on the pillow beside you, your now-unoccupied hand coming up to circle your throat. if you went far enough in your head, you could pretend that it was price’s thick palm pressing against your windpipe, squeezing your neck to give you the head rush you loved. “feels so much better when you do it.” that stroked his ego good, his nostrils flaring as his hand worked more furiously at his aching cock. god, the things he would do to you when he got home.

“you can do it, dove. come on, curl your fingers the way i do. hit that pretty little spot for me.” the moan you let out was all he needed to know you obeyed him. his hand tightened around himself, cum threatening to spill out of him right then and there. but he choked it back. he wanted this to play out just a little longer. “tha’s it, good girl,” he crooned, focusing in on your breathy whimpers. your fingers worked furiously, the pressure in your belly building as you got closer and closer. “god, you sound like heaven. nothin’ sweeter in the world, love.” 

his words carried you closer to the edge, each press of your fingertips against your g-spot sending a bolt of pleasure through you. your back arched, the phone slipping down off the pillow to be closer to your hips. with this new position, he could hear how wet you were, the sound of you delicious in his ear. he groaned, deciding to just give in. he wouldn’t last long with those sounds in his head. “come on, dove, need ya to cum for me,” he breathed out, the wet sounds of him stroking his cock resuming. “wanna do it together. give it to me, baby, i know ya can.”

his encouragement helped, your arousal pulling taut like a rubber band. it was ready to snap, you could feel it. your fingers set a relentless pace, abusing your pussy as the heel of your palm pressed against your clit. “john! john, fuck, i’m gonna-” “i know you are, sweet girl. go ahead, cum for me.” and you did, hard. stars exploded behind your eyelids, low groans echoing in the empty bedroom as you worked yourself through it. the sound of your boyfriend, your captain, finding his own release reached your ears from where your phone sat against the plush of your ass. you picked it up, your breathing heavy as you came back down to earth together. price flopped back down on his cot, a hand over his chest as he willed his racing heart to slow. he was getting too old for this shit.

“good, baby? feel better now?” you asked, taking a moment to relax before cleaning up. you heard him sigh, the sound one of contentedness rather than exasperation like it’d been before. “yeah, dove. you always know just how to make me feel good.” that makes you smile, blinking slowly as you sink into the mattress. “miss you, john.”

“miss you too, lovie.”

constructive criticism greatly appreciated, i wanna write more of this type of stuff but i am very inexperienced when it comes to writing smut!!

[satellite-evans]

champagne problems

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: Charles and you endure champagne problems.

Word count: 3.7k+

Warnings: angst, based on the Taylor Swift song.

A/N:

I’m here yet again with another fic for the folkmore series, this time with Charles and one of my favorite songs champagne problems!! Hope you will like it xxx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

Monaco, December 24th, 2024.

The air was bitter, the kind that cut through your layers and sank deep into your bones, leaving a sting in its wake. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, delicate and fleeting, landing softly on the stone streets of the city. The Mediterranean breeze twisted around the towering buildings like a whisper, and the scent of saltwater clung to the crisp air, mingling with the rich, earthy fragrance of pine from the nearby trees. It should have been a postcard-perfect scene, like something you’d seen in the movies. Streets lined with glittering lights, windows glowing with warmth, the soft hum of Christmas songs drifting from hidden speakers in the corners of the square.

It should have felt magical.

But you stood still, numb, feeling the cold deep in your chest—not from the temperature, but from something much more hollow, something far deeper. It felt as though the weight of the world had settled onto your shoulders. The joyous atmosphere around you, the laughter, the chatter—it all felt so distant, so alien, like a dream that was slowly slipping through your fingers. You should have been swept up in it, should have been laughing, should have been smiling as you stood here, in the heart of Monaco, your heart bursting with excitement for what was to come. But you couldn’t. The warmth of the season only made the emptiness inside you more evident, more painful.

You were standing in Place du Casino, the world seemingly alive around you—tourists and locals alike, clutching steaming cups, their eyes bright with holiday cheer. Some of them were caught up in the magic, others were just passing through. But you? You felt like you were watching them from a distance, like you didn’t belong. The sound of laughter, the clinking of cups, the festive music that had once made your heart flutter—now it only stirred a painful knot in your throat. It was beautiful, almost too beautiful, but there was no joy to be found in it. It felt suffocating. Stifling. A stark reminder of everything you were losing.

Because you knew.

You had been here before, in this very place, years ago. With him. With Charles.

The man who had once been your everything.

The man you had once believed you’d spend forever with.

But forever had never come.

Charles had swept you off your feet back in college—he had been the one who saw you, the quiet girl who preferred the corners of the room, who shied away from crowds. He had found a way to love you that was both overwhelming and gentle. He was your safe place, your anchor, the person you thought you could always turn to. He had been there for every up, every down, standing beside you through the lowest points of your life, offering a love so pure you sometimes wondered if it was real. You had built a life together, sharing quiet mornings, spontaneous trips, and whispered dreams. He was the constant you never thought would change.

But something had shifted, over time. Something you couldn’t pinpoint at first, but that had slowly grown until it felt like an insurmountable chasm between you. The smiles had become more forced, the touches more distant. The moments of laughter had been replaced with silence, the kind of silence that felt so loud you could hear the echoes of every unsaid word.

And now, standing in this winter wonderland, surrounded by the lights and laughter, you could feel it more acutely than ever. You had been expecting tonight to be the night—the night he would ask the question you had been waiting for. He had planned it all: the perfect dinner, the perfect view, the perfect moment. You had imagined it a thousand times. A proposal beneath the stars, a promise to be together forever. This was it, wasn’t it? This was supposed to be the culmination of everything you had built.

But it wasn’t.

Because when he had looked at you tonight, his eyes full of hope, full of expectation, you had felt nothing but dread.

The ring was heavy in his pocket, and you had seen it when his hand brushed against yours earlier. The moment you’d been waiting for, for years, had arrived—but it had been swallowed by a suffocating truth: you didn’t want it anymore. You couldn’t take that next step, not with him. Not when the love that had once burned so brightly had dimmed into something cold and distant.

You wanted it to be different. You wanted to feel the joy everyone else seemed to be basking in, the excitement of a life-changing moment. But instead, you felt like you were drowning in the heaviness of it all. The weight of a future that no longer felt right, of a love that had become a shadow of what it once was.

And that was the hardest part.

The hardest part was knowing that, in the deepest part of your heart, you still loved him. But the love that had once been a fire was now little more than a flicker in the dark, and you were terrified to admit that it was fading, slipping through your fingers like the snowflakes falling around you.

Tonight was supposed to be the beginning of forever. But you both knew, deep down, it wasn’t

Earlier that day.

The morning had arrived with a heavy, unsettling stillness in the air, a quiet pressure that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried. The feeling settled in your chest, like an invisible weight pressing against your ribs. You had woken up with a knot in your stomach, one that didn’t make sense. Everything around you had seemed perfect—Charles had been so full of life, so full of hope the night before. His excitement had been infectious, a bright spark in the cold, and you had desperately tried to match his energy, to slip into the joy of the occasion, to feel the same way he did. But beneath the surface, something was wrong, something that you couldn’t explain or put into words.

You had tried to ignore it. You had tried to push it aside, to pretend it wasn’t there. But it lingered, the storm cloud in your chest that refused to dissipate.

You spent the day preparing, as expected—how could you not? The evening was going to be everything, a night you both had imagined for so long. A night so carefully curated, with every detail planned down to the smallest moment. The gown was beautiful—simple, elegant, the kind of thing you knew would look perfect in Monaco's polished streets. You’d stood in front of the mirror, watching the fabric settle around your body, knowing it made you look beautiful. Charles had even helped pick it out, and that should have felt meaningful, special, but instead, it only served as a reminder that you were caught between two worlds—one of polished perfection and one of unspeakable doubt.

Your makeup was soft, the way he liked it—light and understated—but as the brush touched your skin, you couldn’t help but feel like you were hiding behind it, like the layers you were putting on were also covering up the truth inside. The scent of your mother’s perfume lingered in the air, sweet and familiar, but it only brought memories of a time when everything had seemed simpler. Now, it felt like you were drowning in those memories, suffocating under the weight of them, as though they were the only thing left holding you to a life you weren’t sure you wanted anymore.

Still, you smiled. You smiled because you had to. You smiled because he needed you to, because the man who had been so eager, so in love with you the night before, was waiting downstairs, his heart full of hope and expectation.

And yet, even as you stood there in the mirror, your reflection staring back at you, you felt like a stranger.

Something was slipping through your fingers, and you could no longer ignore it. The distance between you and Charles had stretched, ever so quietly, like a crack running through the foundation of something you once thought was unbreakable. His presence had always been a comfort, a constant you could rely on, but now, lately, it felt more like an absence. It wasn’t that he had changed, or that he had done anything wrong. It was you—you were the one who had changed, who had become distant, unsure. You felt like you were slipping away from him, becoming someone he no longer understood, and no matter how hard you tried to reach out, no matter how much you tried to hold onto the version of you both once knew, it felt like the distance between you was growing wider by the day.

It was too much.

Too much to bear. The pretending, the hiding.

You could have told him. You could have stopped the charade right then and there. You could have said the words, finally admitted what had been building in your chest for so long—that you weren’t sure you could keep pretending anymore. That the weight of carrying this fragile illusion, this love that no longer fit, was becoming unbearable. But instead, you held it in, swallowed the truth like you had so many times before.

So you smiled. You forced the smile that didn’t reach your eyes, that didn’t touch your soul, and you walked down the grand staircase of your apartment, your steps heavy, each one pulling you further from the person you used to be. Ready to meet him. Ready to pretend.

Because, at least for tonight, that’s what you had to do. Pretend.

Back in the square.

The world around you felt like a blur, a dream you couldn’t wake up from, as though you were hovering above it all, disconnected from reality. The laughter, the chatter, the clinking of glasses—all of it seemed so distant, as if muffled by an invisible wall. It was as though you were watching life unfold from behind a thick pane of glass, unable to touch or reach it. And then, in the midst of that hazy, detached feeling, you saw him.

Charles.

He was walking toward you through the crowd, his face a mixture of excitement and nerves, so familiar and yet so far away. His tousled hair was perfect tonight, a slight wave that somehow made him look even more effortlessly charming. His eyes sparkled with that same brightness, the same gleam that had first caught your attention all those years ago, that had drawn you in and made you believe in the possibility of forever.

But now, as your gazes met, it was as though time slowed down. Everything you had been holding back, everything he had hoped for, collided in that single moment. It was supposed to be beautiful—his love, your love, everything you had built—but instead, it felt like an illusion. A moment where the past and future tangled together, but neither seemed real. Nothing felt like it belonged anymore.

He reached you, and his smile was warm, so full of love and anticipation—but beneath it, you could see the uncertainty, the fear. He took your hand in his gently, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

"You look amazing," he whispered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shock through you, but it wasn’t the warmth you had once felt—it wasn’t the feeling that had once made your heart race. It was a reminder, sharp and painful, of everything you had lost, of the person you used to be when you looked at him with the certainty of love, of belonging. But now? Now, his touch felt like an anchor, pulling you down into a place you couldn’t bear to be.

He led you into the center of the square, where a small group of friends and family waited, their faces glowing in the soft light of Christmas decorations. They were all smiling, their voices light as they chatted over glasses of champagne. The air smelled of pine and cinnamon, the soft hum of carolers in the background filling the air with warmth. The entire scene was beautiful, almost unbearably so. It was the perfect setting, the culmination of everything Charles had been planning, everything he had dreamed of.

This was it.

Your heart thundered in your chest, a loud, rhythmic pounding that drowned out the music and the conversation around you. You could feel the weight of every pair of eyes on you, the quiet expectation in the air. You had been with Charles for years—long enough that it should have been easy, natural. But now? Now, you couldn’t even look at him without feeling like you were drowning, suffocating under the weight of what he was about to ask. You had already known, for so long, that you weren’t ready for this. That you weren’t sure you could keep pretending, keep lying to both him and yourself. But you had smiled. You had nodded. You had let him carry you to this moment, all while knowing you couldn’t escape it.

The thought of saying yes made you want to crawl out of your own skin. It felt like suffocation. And the thought of walking away, of breaking his heart, felt like something far worse—a sharp, twisting pain that cut deep into your soul.

And then, as if in a dream that you couldn’t control, he dropped to one knee.

"Mon amour," he began, his voice thick with emotion, "You’ve been my best friend, my partner, my love, for so long. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to build our future together. Will you marry me?"

The world seemed to stop. The bustling square fell into an eerie silence. The champagne glasses stilled in the air. You could hear nothing but the rapid, uneven beat of your own heart, your breath shallow, trapped somewhere between your chest and throat. You stared at him—at the ring he was holding, gleaming under the soft glow of the Christmas lights. It was beautiful. It was everything he had dreamed of.

But when you looked into his eyes, all you saw was a future you couldn’t be a part of. You saw the man who had once been your whole world, who had held you close in moments of joy and despair alike. And yet now, you couldn’t reconcile the woman you were with the woman he thought you were. You were so tired—so incredibly tired—of carrying this weight, this expectation, this illusion of a future that no longer fit. You were someone he couldn’t reach, and you weren’t sure you could keep pretending you were.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice barely audible against the silence that had descended. "I can’t."

It was a punch to the gut. A brutal, hollow punch. You watched the light drain from his face, the warmth in his features evaporating as confusion and disbelief took its place. His eyes searched yours, as though hoping to find something that would make this make sense, some explanation he could cling to, something that would reassure him that you were still there, still the person he thought you were. But you weren’t. And you couldn’t be.

"I love you," you choked out, your voice cracking, "but I need to be alone right now. I need to fix myself. I need to find myself. I can’t… I can’t marry you."

The silence that followed was deafening. The crowd, once vibrant with excitement, was now frozen in shock. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the disbelief and the hushed whispers. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the hollow echo of your own voice, the steady ache in your chest that refused to go away.

With a final glance at Charles—at the man who had once been your everything—you turned away, walking away from him, from the life you had once thought you would share, from the future he had dreamed of. And as you walked, the world felt colder, emptier, as if you had left behind everything that had once been so full of promise.

The aftermath.

The following days in Monaco were a blur, each one blending into the next like the pages of a book you couldn’t bring yourself to finish. Christmas came and went with all the cheer that the season should bring, but somehow, everything seemed muted, distant. The festive lights that had once felt like tiny sparks of magic now seemed to flicker weakly, the warmth of their glow faded. The streets, so vibrant and alive just days before, now felt hollow, as if the life had been drained from them along with your own.

The whispering started immediately. It wasn’t surprising, not really. Monaco was a small place, where everyone knew everyone, and stories traveled faster than the sea breeze. But knowing it was coming didn’t make it any easier. It wasn’t just the subtle, sidelong glances in the cafés or the knowing looks passed between strangers in the markets. It was the words. The cold, sharp words, laced with judgment and pity.

You heard them everywhere. "Poor Charles," they would murmur behind their hands, their voices filled with exaggerated sympathy, as though he were the victim in all of this. "How could she do that to him?" they’d ask, as if you were some kind of monster, as if you had ripped his heart out for no reason. It was painful, but it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe you had steeled yourself, prepared for the backlash in a way that left you numb to it all. You couldn’t deny it—there were times when the weight of their words crushed you, when the sting of their judgment felt almost unbearable. But they didn’t know. They couldn’t possibly know.

“She was never good enough for him anyway,” one woman had said, shaking her head as she passed you on the street, the words cutting like a knife. "She was always a little unstable, wasn’t she?" someone else added, louder than necessary, almost as if they wanted you to hear. "She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head," they said as if they were speaking about the truth.

It wasn’t your mental health that made you walk away, but their words never let you forget the hurt they tried to lay at your feet. It wasn’t about being unstable. It wasn’t about failing in any way they could quantify. No, it was about a truth you hadn’t been able to face until that moment in the square, when everything came crashing down in an instant. It was about realizing that you were no longer the person you had been when you and Charles first met, that you had lost something inside yourself long before that night.

And Charles? He disappeared. Completely. You tried reaching out, at first—texts, calls, the occasional message left unanswered. But you never heard back. And after a while, you stopped trying. What was there to say? How could you explain to him that the love you’d shared was no longer enough to keep you from suffocating under the weight of expectations, both his and your own? How could you explain that the person he thought he knew, the person who had loved him with all her heart, was gone? You couldn’t.

You didn’t blame him for the silence. How could you? What could you possibly say that would make sense of the mess you had left behind? The pain, the heartbreak—you could feel it in every empty space where his presence used to be. But it wasn’t just the silence from him that hurt. It was the loneliness that began to settle in, a deep, gnawing kind of loneliness that made you question whether you would ever be able to fill the hole he had left behind.

But there was something else, too. Every night, as you walked through the quiet streets of Monaco, the city’s glittering lights reflecting off the water and the chill of winter biting at your skin, your heart would feel heavier, sinking lower with each step you took. You missed him. God, you missed him. The sound of his laugh, the way he looked at you with so much love, the feeling of his hand in yours, steady and sure. But no matter how much you missed him, you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t go back to him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Not while you were still a stranger to yourself.

The thought of being with him again, of putting on that smile and pretending like everything was okay, like everything could go back to the way it was, was unbearable. You couldn’t offer him the love he deserved, not when you were still tangled up in the wreckage of your own heart. You needed to find the girl you once were—the girl who had been whole before all of this, before the doubts, the fear, the slow unraveling of something that should have been forever. You needed to find yourself again before you could even think about being with him.

And so you walked. Every night, through the empty streets of Monaco, you walked. You walked because it was the only thing you could do. The only thing that made sense in the chaos of your mind. You tried to find pieces of yourself, moments of clarity, in the quiet of the night, under the cold winter stars. You tried to remind yourself of who you were before him, before the love you had shared became a heavy chain, pulling you deeper into the murky waters of doubt and uncertainty.

But it wasn’t easy.

Some nights, the emptiness felt suffocating, like the weight of the world was on your shoulders, and you were carrying it all alone. You had loved him so fiercely, so completely, and letting him go had been the hardest thing you had ever done. But you knew, even in your darkest moments, that it had been the right thing. It had to be. Because as much as you loved him, you knew that you couldn’t be the person he needed while you were still lost. And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that when you found yourself again, you could be the woman he deserved.

But for now, that was all you could do. Find yourself. Learn to breathe without the weight of his absence pressing down on you. And hope, with every step you took, that someday, somewhere, you would learn how to love again.

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part seven)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, pedro (srry he's a big part of this chapter)

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: hi everyone! I literally just posted saying idk when I would update again but I decided to look through what I had written for this part and give it to y'all. she's a short one but it's cute. somewhat proof read lol. enjoy <3

part seven: closing chapters

You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and you already missed the simplicity of being with Hugh. Los Angeles was reality and it was an ugly one. All of the responsibilities came tumbling down on you and you felt like you were stuck in an inescapable maze. As much as you wanted to stay hidden, tucked under Hugh’s protective arm forever, you had to be an adult about this. You needed to stop ignoring Ashley and talk things out with her. You also needed to talk to Pedro and close that chapter that had been left wide open. Your personal life couldn’t have picked a worse time to get interesting. Tour started in two weeks, leaving very little time to tie all loose ends before traveling the world.

When you landed this morning, you ate a quick breakfast from a small cafe and went straight to rehearsals. They ran longer today to make up for the few days you were gone but you didn’t mind. Being on stage and performing the music you worked so hard on always upped your mood, even if you were unbelievably tired at the end of the day. At the moment, you were laying in bed, trying your best to stay awake while you waited for Hugh to call. He texted you a few hours earlier saying he spent the day with his kids and talked to them about the relationship you two had built over the questionable short period of time. He didn’t go into any further detail but promised to call as soon as he got home and settled. It was a little past 10pm, making it 1am in New York. Just as you were beginning to lose hope in Hugh’s late night call, your phone lit up with Hugh’s contact. 

“Hi Hugh.” You say sweetly into the speaker, sleepiness evident in your voice. “Hi, baby. Were you sleeping?” The deep accent you adored so much rumbled through the phone. “No, I was just laying down. How are you? How was your day?” As you speak, you move to sit up, your back resting against the headboard. “My day was good. It was nice to spend some time with the kids and catch up. We did a puzzle and talked, it was a nice day. How was your day, baby?” 

“It was good, busy. Basically hopped off the plan straight into rehearsals.” You let out an airy laugh. “I’m sorry sweet girl, I should let you get some sleep.” His voice trails off at the end and you know he genuinely feels bad for calling so late. “No, no…it’s fine. I want to talk to you. I don’t start as early tomorrow so I have some time to sleep in.” You assure him. “Are you sure baby? We can always talk tomorrow.” ���I’m sure.” You let out a small yawn and Hugh chuckles.  “Hm, if you say so.” 

“Whatever..” You say playfully. The line goes quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking. “So uh…you told your kids about us?” 

You wanted to ease into asking but you were dying to know. Thay had been the number one reason you’d been so hesitant to take on a relationship with Hugh and you know their opinion means something to him too. If they didn’t approve or had any distaste towards your pairing, you weren’t sure if you could be with Hugh without having a heavy layer of guilt strapped to your heart. 

“Oh yea, I told them.” 

His response makes your heart skip a beat. Hugh was never one to beat around the bush but he was dragging this out and it scared you. 

“And what did they say?” 

Hugh takes a sharp breath in and your heart falls into your stomach. They don’t approve, you can sense the words about to tumble out of his mouth. 

“They’re fine with it.” 

His short answers are beginning to irritate you a little bit. You needed to know every detail of their conversation, you wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. 

“Hugh, can you please just tell me everything? Your lack of words is driving me insane.” You draw out the end of the last word, showing him just how frustrated you are. 

“I’m sorry baby, there's not much to tell. My daughter is a fan and begged me to introduce you two and um…well my son…he uh..this is so fucking awkward…” He huffs. “What did he say? I’m sure it can’t be that bad if they’re fine with everything right? Just spit it out, I can take it.” He sighs. “My son has a crush on you.” 

“Oh!” You can feel your body heat up underneath your duvet. “That uh…that is kinda awkward. What did he say about us being together then?” 

“He said something about how he doesn't understand how I was able to ‘bag a baddie’ like you, whatever that means.” You laugh at that. “He’s not mad, just jealous I guess. I’m really gonna have to keep an eye out for him when you meet them. I trust him, he’s my son, but I’m not gonna stand for his eyes wandering on my girl.”

You laugh again, partially because of his words and partially because of how wild this entire conversation is. 

“Well I’d love to meet your daughter and she’s free to come to any show she wants, I'll get her in. Same goes for your son as well, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to get too jealous and cause a fight between you two.” You giggle through the last few words. 

“Yea yea, we’ll see.” 

The line goes quiet again, a comfortable silence. 

“Hugh, I have a question.” “Shoot baby.” You can hear the sleepiness starting to appear in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with me going to talk to Pedro soon?” You hear rustling on his end before he speaks again. “Why do you want to do that?” There’s a slight hint of anger in his tone but you know it’s not towards you but towards how Pedro treated you. “I really need to talk things out with him. As much as I'm over him, there’s still a little part of me that needs closure, that needs to ask questions. I want this part of my life to be done but I need to have it properly sealed off.” “Could you wait until I’m back in town? I trust you but I don’t trust him one bit.” You smile at his protectiveness. “I really want to fix everything before the tour starts. I need to talk to Ashley too and the sooner I can get over this, the sooner I can put all my focus on the tour and you. So unless you’re planning on being back in town in a week, I need to do this alone. Is that okay?” He sighs and takes a moment. “Of course that’s fine baby. Just keep me updated on everything that happens.” “I will.” The two of you talk for 20 more minutes before you both call it a night, ending the call with “I love you”. 

The next morning, you immediately texted Hugh before rolling out of bed and starting your day. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. You opted for a lazy breakfast, too tired to do anything else. You popped a bagel into the toaster and fried an egg, laying a slice of cheese on top to melt. You made your little bagel breakfast sandwich and washed a few berries to go with it. 

While you ate, you scrolled through your phone. Hugh hasn't texted you back yet but it didn't surprise you. He was up late and with his age, he needed his sleep. You smiled to yourself as you thought about how peaceful he looks while he’s deep in sleep. While scrolling through instagram, you get an ad for Gladiator II. Your ex’s stupid hot face was plastered on your phone. You sighed and pulled up his contact. You were grateful you deleted the text thread you once had, you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing all of the previous sweet words he used to send you. 

You: hey p, it’s y/n. I was wondering if we could meet up soon and talk? no pressure :) 

Once you hit send, you locked your phone and slid it across your kitchen table. Your phone buzzed a few seconds later and your heart started beating faster…there’s no way he could have already responded. You reached for your phone, having to lift out of your chair slightly. When your phone unlocks, your heart slows down, it’s just Hugh. 

You texted back and forth with Hugh all morning until you pulled up to the Kia Forum. Tour was officially a week away from starting which meant you got to rehearse in the venue that would be starting the tour off. You’d been in the Forum a few times for various concerts but being here for your own performance was a different animal. Knowing that this place was sold out for you was wild. You caught up with all of your dancers, them sharing the same excitement. The energy in the building was electric. The crew was excited to get their creations in full and everyone was just happy to finally be starting. 

With being in a new space, the start of rehearsal was a bit slow. Lights, sounds, and various other things had to be adjusted now that everything was in full. You didn’t mind though. It gives you a chance to slow down and appreciate how far you’ve come. It was lunchtime and you decided to hide away in your dressing room to eat. A few people offered you to come with them but you really needed a moment to yourself. You were overwhelmed but in a good way. You grabbed some food from the catering someone had ordered, you made a note to yourself to find out who it was and thank them. 

Once you got to your dressing room, you pulled your phone out of your purse and scrolled through your notification log. Hugh’s messages were the first thing you saw. You were responding to everything he had sent when another message popped up at the top of your phone. 

pedro: hey y/n. I’m free today if you wanna swing by sometime? 

You pulled up to the familiar gates and typed in the code that was still etched in your brain. Once you parked your car in the semi circle driveway, you texted Pedro that you were here before taking a deep breath and stepping out of your car. It always looked out of place next to the large home, even more now that you didn’t belong here the way you once had. One of the brown French style doors open just as you're walking up the three concrete steps that lead to the entrance. You look up from your shoes. Locking eyes with Pedro, you feel your heart tense up. The pain of losing the man you had felt so deeply for re-entered your body involuntarily. He was wearing his typical casual attire: a pair of black cotton shorts, his beloved yellow lakers tee, and a pair of long black socks. The slight gray in his hair had begun to spread, the sides of his beard almost losing all color. He looked as handsome as ever. He held the door open with one arm, leaning slightly. A small smile rested on his face and his brown puppy dog eyes gave you the same feeling they had when you had first met him. 

“Hi y/n.” His voice sounded almost hesitant. “Hi P…Thanks for having me.” He backs up to let you inside. You slip your shoes off, like you had many times before. “No problem. I’m kinda surprised you wanted to talk to me, thought you would’ve been done with me after…well you know.” You don’t answer, instead you walk towards his living room and plop yourself down in the spot you had claimed many months ago, Pedro taking his own claimed spot not too far from yours. “It’s weird seeing you there again…missed seeing you here.” You sigh. “Pedro…don’t say that.” “Why not?” “You don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that left me. You hurt me P. Not the other way around.” He scoffs. “Sure didn’t seem too hurt to me. You moved on just fine.” “Can you stop being an asshole for two fucking seconds?” 

You wanted to come into this with patience and maturity but Pedro was making that impossible. He was being completely insufferable and had been since the moment he broke up with you, like it was somehow your fault. You missed the kind Pedro, the one you had fallen for. 

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? It took a month before you fell into someone else's arms, no let me clarify, my friend’s arms.” You could tell he was trying to get under your skin and you didn’t know where he gained this hatred for you. His voice was sour, a scowl present on his face. 

“God Pedro…” You sigh in anger. “Yes I invited him to the album party but he was there for me when you sat there and yelled- no embarrassed me at my own event. You don’t get to play victim in this situation. We weren’t together and hadn’t been together for weeks by the time I met him.” You could tell you were beginning to lose control over your emotions. The anger and pain both battled reaching for your throat begging to take control over your next words. 

His eyes go soft as he starts to speak again. “Y/n…I’m sorry about that, I was drunk and I-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You know what? Fuck you Pedro. Truly. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You broke up with me because the pressure was too hard on you. You come to my event and try to grab me, then you yell at me because Hugh came to check on me. Now you’re mad that I found someone that actually gives two shits about me, that isn’t afraid to deal with whatever comes with dating a younger girl? I’m over it.” You laugh again. “And now you want to apologize for that night when you’ve been nothing but rude since I sat on this couch? I came here for closure, nothing more. I liked you Pedro. I really really like you and you crushed my heart that night and every time I’ve seen you after. I don’t understand what I did to deserve this hatred that you’ve been throwing at me but it’s not fair.” 

Your anger had won the battle but your sadness would win the war. Your voice broke on your last words, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“It’s not fucking fair P…” 

You tuck your face into your sweatshirt, allowing yourself to cry in peace. Pedro doesn’t speak and the silence lasts for what feels like forever. You could feel a slight movement on the couch, then two warm arms wrap around your shoulder, a chin resting atop your head. The two of you stay like that for a while. You let your tears flood your cheeks until there aren’t any left. 

“I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” 

You slowly pull your face out of the sweater. One of Pedro’s arms drops to rest on his leg, the other lay across your shoulders still. His water line was filled with his own tears, eyes red. 

“Then why did you?” He takes a moment to think and pulls you into his chest. Your head resting right above his heart, the beat a little faster than the one you had memorized. 

“Shit y/n…I know no matter how I say this, it’s gonna sound fucked up.” He squeezes his arms gently. “I was so scared, baby. When everyone started to form their opinions on us and kept pinning me to be some weirdo, I freaked out. I’m at the height of my career and I couldn’t imagine losing that…and you were right, I'm selfish. When I let you go, I immediately regretted it. I showed up to your party wanting to apologize. I had a few drinks, some liquid courage if you will, but damn baby, those fruity little drinks were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be.” You chuckle at the comment. “I was waisted by the time I saw you and when…Hu-...when he came to defend you, I lost my shit. I was so pissed off. Even in the state I was in, the look in his eyes was loud. He looked at you with so much adoration and I knew I’d already lost you.” 

He pauses. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, I just..I just want you to- no, I need you to know what happened. I’m sorry for being an ass today too. I guess I’m not over you and it hurts that you’re over me.” 

You look up at him. 

“I’m not trying to be mean when I say this P but it’s your fault. I could’ve loved you….I was falling in love with you. My time with you was special, so different than anything I’d ever felt before. I think we would’ve been good together. If you would have talked to me, maybe things would be different. You should have talked to me.” 

“We could’ve been the greatest?” He gives a lazy smile down to you and you look down in shame, wincing slightly. “You watched it?” You ask quietly. “Yea I did.” He pauses. “You sounded beautiful up there, you’re so talented y/n…even if it was so clearly targeted towards me.” The arm that's wrapped around your shoulder moves, his hand resting on your head now, moving in slow circles. 

“Would you ever give us another chance?” He asks, looking down at you. The hope in his eyes pains you. 

“I love him P…” You see the small glimmer of happiness drain from his face. You were feeling just as hurt, knowing that if Hugh hadn’t entered your life when he did or if you had talked to Pedro sooner, you’d give him another chance without a second thought. 

“Does he treat you good?” You almost scoff at the question, given who’s asking, but you don’t have the heart to be mean to him anymore. “Yea he does…” You smile at the thought of just how well Hugh does treat you. “Well, then I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you really or are you just trying to be nice?” You joke and he shrugs. “The latter but truthfully if you were going to be with anyone other than myself, I’m glad it’s him. He’s good.” He smiles down at you and it almost reaches his eyes. “Speaking of Hugh…you kinda owe him an apology, mister.” You poke at the side of his chest that you’re not leaning on. “For what? Stealing my girl?” His words make your tummy stir. “I wasn’t your girl anymore. You called him old and yelled at him. He’s your friend, so apologize.” 

“He is old.” You punch his arm and give him a look. “Ow..fuck. Fine, I’ll apologize but I’m not sure how buddy buddy I can be with him anymore.” “I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re nice to him.” 

He doesn’t respond. You spend a few minutes feeling the warmth of his embrace, it was something you were going to miss. As much as you loved Hugh, Pedro had been someone special to you and it hurt to let him go, even with what he put you through. 

“How much longer do my pictures have on your instagram before I’m replaced by Hugh?” He jokes and your eyes go wide. “Oh fuck me…” You had completely forgotten about the pictures that littered your page. “I will.” He smirks. “Shut the fuck up. I’m deleting them in front of your face just for saying that.” You whip out your phone. There are a few texts from Hugh on the homescreen asking how it’s going. “I’m surprised your guard dog let you come alone.” “Oh believe me, he didn’t want me to but he’s in New York and couldn’t stop me.” You open instagram. “And for that comment, I'm making you press delete on these. You can feel the finalization of us being over. Consider it punishment for being such a dick.”  He laughed and pressed delete on the first one. 

In the third picture, you started to regret this ‘punishment’. “We were a cute couple. You remember that one? That’s when you came over and we fucked like rabbits all week-” “Okay your done. Give me my phone.” You shove him away after and he lets out a deep belly laugh. The sound made you pause for a moment. This was the Pedro you had enjoyed being around. It was always so easy to joke around with him and be yourself. You would miss him. 

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[rigelmejo]

Here is how I've studied Chinese over the past 4-5 years.

Note: I cram studied a lot of hanzi, words, and grammar in the first year. I got a lot of 'review' by reading graded readers in Pleco app and just looking up words over and over until I learned them, and watching cdramas with english and chinese subtitles and looking up words in Pleco or Google Translate as I got curious. This is what worked best for me, because I cannot stick to something like anki long term - if you can stick to anki long term, then doing something like that regularly may have good results. I prefer to learn by doing what I want to do - which for me, was read.

I also started trying to read and watch shows in just chinese in the first year - which in retrospect was probably harder than I needed to do. After 2 years, I started mostly following Heavenly Path Notion Site's recommended materials (graded readers, easier novels for native speakers etc) and my life got much easier as I started reading Easier stuff more often, and harder stuff less often. I highly recommend beginners check out all the resources linked on Heavenly Path, especially in their Reading Guide and Listening Guide. I did a mix of extensive reading (reading easy stuff where I could guess unknown words from context - I might just read with a TTS to hear the word pronounced), and intensive reading (looking up every unknown word/most unknown words for it's translation in Pleco or Readibu app).

For Hanzi, and Reading:

Read about how hanzi work. I read all the articles I linked on this post about learning hanzi. It will help you in the future to know radicals exist, and to know what mnemonics are since a lot of learning resources recommend them for learning hanzi. I did not memorize radicals, but I did get a basic familiarity with the fact they exist and read over a chart of them once. Later as I studied hanzi, I learned the radicals more in the context of the hanzi they're in.

Downloaded Pleco app, and Google Translate, started looking up a word or phrase whenever I was curious, when I was watching cdramas. If you're watching shows, it's pretty easy to see chinese hard subs on many shows on youtube, and just look up a word or two when you feel curious.

I used this book, I just read through it in like 3 months, aiming for basic familiarity not memorization. Learning Chinese Characters: (HSK Levels 1-3) A Revolutionary New Way to Learn the 800 Most Basic Chinese Characters; Includes All Characters for the AP & HSK 1-3 Exams. I love this book, I credit this book to giving me a decent foundation in hanzi, the mnemonic stories in the book worked well for me, as did the example words. This book is often cheaply used, and can be found free in many libraries and elibraries.

Because I'm a lot, I kept trying to read parallel text webnovels on mtlnovel.com (it has a parallel text chinese/english option if you're logged in). I read some MoDu and some ZhenHun, and it was very hard. In retrospect I would have probably spent my time better with more graded readers, and easier webnovels after lol. I also kept trying to read chinese webnovels with Pleco's click-translate feature. It wasn't bad, I think it helped me a lot, but I did this all from month 1 onward. And it would probably have been easier to wait until I had built more of a foundation to do this.

I used a 2000 Common Word Ben Whatley memrise course which no longer exists, and cram studied 1000 words in a week then reviewed the next 2 weeks, then read some graded readers, and then the next month cram studied 1000 words and then reviewed the next 2 weeks, then read some more. I did reading as most of my actual reviews, because I don't like anki decks and I can't focus on them for more than a few weeks (as my study patterns show lol). I would recommend someone use the Spoonfed Chinese Anki deck if trying to emulate what I did, or ideally any common words chinese deck with audio and hanzi, and ideally in sentence examples. I'd recommend if you're cram studying words to just do 1000-3000, because you'll run into those common words a LOT if you're also reading and watching shows and looking stuff up. So you'll get lots of review of those 3000 words even if you stop using anki, since you'll keep running into those words. After the 3000 most common, it might be more useful to prioritize studying words as you come across them in reading/watching, and either keep looking them up until you remember them or put those in anki (if you like anki).

I started reading Graded Readers in Pleco app, with click-translations. Mostly Mandarin Companion graded readers with 300 unique hanzi or less, then 500 unique hanzi or less, because it was good review in the context of reading for everything I'd just studied over the past few months. I suggest checking out Heavenly Path Notion Site's Reading Guide whenever you'd like to start reading, a lot of good tips in there and a lot of resources I used too (like Pleco app and Readibu app).

I used this book as reference, Tuttle Learning Chinese Characters: A Revolutionary New Way to Learn and Remember the 800 Most Basic Chinese Characters Original by Matthews, Alison, Matthews, Laurence (2007) Paperback. I've flipped through it a few times, never fully read all of it, but another person may find use in it. I liked it as a reference. This book is also easy to find cheap used, or in libraries and elibraries free.

I went through about half of the following anki deck, just cram studying 1500 hanzi cards in a couple weeks, doing a week of review, and then 'reviewing' by reading stuff in chinese and looking words up again and again. It's a great anki deck for studying hanzi.

*Mnemonics - 3018 Simplified Chinese Hanzi deck (I recommend this deck, if I had to go back and do it again)

*Mnemonics - 3035 Traditional Chinese Hanzi (I recommend this deck, if I had to go back and do it again)

 *Mnemonics - 4143 Traditional AND Simplified Chinese Hanzi (combines the 2 decks above)

After learning around 1500 hanzi through a combination of reading the books I linked, reading graded readers, and using the anki deck I linked, I just kept reading and looking up words I didn't know that seemed important to the overall meaning of the thing I was reading. Just looking up words, again and again, until I remembered them. Which was usually 2-20 times. I started reading manhua, then webnovels, again see Heavenly Path Notion Site for their recommendations on reading material at different difficulty levels. I was also reading cdrama subtitles, usually with both chinese and english subtitles on, but once in a while I tried to watch a show with just chinese subtitles. I'd look up 1 word every 5 minutes or so, to let myself look up key words that seemed important, but not stop constantly.

Yes, my study consisted of a LOT of 'cram study for basic familiarity of something' then read and watch, and look things I was basically familiar with over and over until they stick and I learn them.

For Grammar:

I read through this grammar guide website's HSK Grammar lessons in like 1 month, not to memorize just to get a basic familiarity. I wanted an idea of the grammar I'd be seeing later, and an idea of what to look up more information about if I got confused later. https://www.hskcourse.com/hsk-grammar-exercises/. I did this in the first few months.

I looked up grammar points later, as I'd read graded readers or watch shows, on this website All Set Learning Chinese Grammar Wiki. I found the explanations on this site helpful. I kept doing this, and still do this if any grammar point in particular is confusing me.

If you want to use anki to study grammar, these decks cover similar material: *Chinese Grammar Wiki Study Deck(if looking for a full grammar guide I recommend this one, which so far has been the most well formatted version and links to the AllSetLearning Grammar points so you can easily do background reading when needed). Ole’s Chinese Grammar Wiki A1, Chinese Grammar Wiki A2, Chinese Grammar Wiki B1, Chinese Grammar Wiki B2 (all adapted from AllSet Learning’s Chinese Grammar Wiki site)

For tones:

I went through the Pinyin Pronunciation Guide and tone trainer on this website dong-chinese.com in a month. Then again a few months later, went through it again.

I also used these:

Maorma.net Minimal Pair Test (I used this in the past, focusing on minimal pairs might help?)

Yoyo Chinese Tone Pairs Chart (may help)

Yoyo Pinyin Chart (has sound for each tone, this may help)

Basically I used everything on under my 'tones' tag. Feel free to browse for more resources. Mostly it was a lot of youtube videos, and explanations. I looked up videos on youtube about tone sandhi, tone pairs, actual tone pronunciation etc. I really liked Grace Mandarin Chinese's channel, and recently I've found Julesy's videos very useful like this one about pronunciation.

For Listening:

So I really HEAVILY focused on learning to read. As you can see above. I have only started focusing on listening more as of this year. If I could go back and give myself advice? I'd suggest to past me to listen to graded reader AUDIO a few times, before and after I read something. To listen to audiobook audio, or at least Microsoft Edge Read Aloud to webnovel pages I'm reading, or at least Pleco Dictation audio, MORE. I barely listened to audio when I read. 3 years in, I finally started reading along to audiobooks or listening to TTS when reading - to get my reading speed to become faster. It did make my reading speed closer to speaking speed, and it also helped my listening skills a lot. I wish I'd done more listening overall, any time I'd read things. Or before/after reading things.

I would also have told past me to Please check out some podcasts for learners, and practice listening earlier. And to try watching a cdrama, just once in a while, with no subs including no chinese subs. Because I can watch cdramas now, but I have to rely on chinese subs. If it's JUST audio it feels 4 times harder to me, and that might not be true right now if I had just... listened more in the last 4 years.

Now? I am watching comprehensible input chinese lessons on youtube (I have them linked here), I've been listening to learner podcasts so the language is easier than stuff I'd read (also linked there as the podcasts listed on some posts), and I've been posting about everything I've been listening to on the tag chinese listening experiment. Which has mostly been audiobooks of stuff I've read before in chinese and english, because as established, I read way more than I listen. So listening to stuff I have read before, is easier than listening to something brand new. It's going okay. Progress in listening skills are steady so the study plan is working out I guess.

For Speaking:

I've done very little to practice this. I still need to work a LOT on it. I used Tandem and Hellotalk for a while to speak with language partners - and using language exchange apps and websites is probably a good plan if you like talking to people. I used a putonghua pronunciation trainer app that is 1. no longer accessible on US app store and 2. no longer has any of the free 'grade your pronunciation' resources I used it for originally. I like as alternatives the apps: ChinesePronunciation Trainer (super simple free setup to shadow and compare your recording to the original), and Ka Learn Chinese Tones (which I've been playing with but I'm not sure about yet).

I plan to shadow audio eventually, and then talk to people more again. I will try speaking again after I've gotten a lot more listening practice in, maybe my speaking will be better. Or it'll still suck. Who knows.

Writing:

Haha... hahahaaaaaaa..... one day I'll practice... In all seriousness, I practice this when I message people on language exchange apps and sites. When I plan to work on this more, I'll probably do a combination of write some journals and message people more again.

I can type pretty fine, because you can type with pinyin and I know what the hanzi I mean looks like so I can select it. I cannot write by hand. I used to be able to write ni hao and xie xie and wo. Now I'm not confident I could do that from memory ;-;

Below the cut is a list of some things I read and listened to over the years, with commentary that is totally cool to skip entirely (I was rambling). I think I picked harder stuff than I needed to at first, and I'd really suggest beginners check Heavenly Path's recommendations for beginners, instead of whatever I was doing (which was sometimes super difficult for me).

Stuff I read:

Mandarin Companion Sherlock Holmes

Pleco Graded Reader Butterfly Lovers

Mandarin Companion Journey to the Center of the Earth

小王子 (extensively read, doable but I probably should have picked something easier, I was really excited to extensively read my first story and it really built reading stamina)

天涯客 (intensively read 20 chapters)

真魂 (intensively read 20 chapters, did listening reading method with same 20 chapters, must have reread the first 20 chapters at least 4 times, also listened to the first 20 audiobook chapters 3-6 times each so I'm very familiar with the words in them, I basically kept engaging until future chapters in this book were 95% comprehensible or more so I could extensively read my print copy)

寒舍 a dmbj fanfic (intensively read 60 chapters)

镇魂 (extensively read the first 30 chapters of my print copy, and the extras)

秃秃大王 (intensively read, but it was close to my reading level so I was only looking up maybe 5 words or less per 100 words. REALLY recommend this story. Easiest thing I read that wasn't a graded reader)

大林和小林 (intensively read, 95%+ comprehensible I was just looking up any basic words I still didn't know, same author as the novel above, probably the BEST novels for beginners to read after graded readers, I found them recommended on Heavenly Path Notionsite)

笑猫日记 1 (intensively read, but it was near my reading level so I was looking up 5 words or less per 100 words, learned a lot of chengyu from this)

笑猫日记 2 (extensively read, extensive reading built up my readind speed and stamina)

寒舍 a dmbj fanfic (extensively read all 110 chapters, probably 95% comprehensible or more especially since I'd learned a lot of words in the early chapters from the first time I read it. Part of the time I listened to Edge's TTS as I read. Built up reading speed by listening as I read. Longest thing I had read and finished at that point, at over 100k words)

盗墓笔记1 (intensively read but it was close to my reading level so probably 92% or more words I already knew, first non-fanfiction I finished reading that was over 40k words)

盗墓笔记2 (extensively read except for a few specific artifact words of things they found in the tomb, first non-fanfiction novel I finished by extensively reading that was over 40k words)

盗墓笔记重启 manhua (extensively read all of it, super easy to read, very funny if you're into dmbj)

19天 (extensively read maybe 50 chapters? Cute, funny, super simple to read)

他们的故事 manhua (extensively read maybe 15 chapters, also very funny and cute and simple to read)

破云 manhua (extensively read 1st volume, I got a print copy, its a bit hard I mean even my copy has chinese definitions of some of the legal/crime terms at the bottom of the pages lol. It's doable to follow, probably because I'm used to crime mystery stories. I also watched the voiced version on bilibili so a little listening practice)

吞海 manhua (extensively read a few chapters, I could follow just like 破云, but I can't quite handle reading the books extensively)

烈火浇愁 manhua (extensively read 5 chapters, the historical bits were harder, the rest was fine. I felt comfortable extensively reading pretty much any manhua by this point. I'd love to read the novel version but I'm certain 烈火浇愁 and 残次品 are beyond my reading ability as of 3/2025, priest's novel 默读 which is a regular modern setting only became possible to extensively read 12/2024. So I don't think I could handle a sci fi setting yet).

半夜衣寒 dmbj fanfic by 夏灬安兰 (extensively read, I just really like this person's writing style, and their writing is easier than priest for me to read and just perfect for me? I really enjoy their plots. This author's fanfics are who I credit for getting used to grammar in long sentences and getting used to "intuitively" understanding it, and for starting to do those kind of reading inferences of what is implied but not explicitly stated. Such as picking up character moods from physical descriptions, rather than words about their mood, and picking up hints about the ghost cases that hint things about characters in the stories as parallels. And I picked up familiarity with a ton of common adjectives and 4 hanzi descriptives from this author).

If anyone were going to copy what I did, my suggestion would be: check out Heavenly Path's reading recommendations list, pick novels in gradually increasing difficulty. Their easiest recommendations are extremely doable if you've been using graded readers for a while, and know around 1000 hanzi/HSK4 vocabulary. I think I struggled with a lot of material that was more difficult than it needed to be, at times. On the other hand? I feel that me frequently switching between intensively reading something somewhat above my reading level, and extensively reading something at my reading level or slightly above my reading level, helped me increase both my comfortable reading level and my reading stamina/speed. I think a mix of harder and easier material definitely helped me push through plateaus and onto more difficult novels I wanted to read, and it's still the strategy I use to work up to harder reading material. I would also recommend: listen while you read SOMETIMES. READ without audio sometimes (to practice reading skills), read with audio sometimes (to match pronunciation to words and push reading speed up closer to speaking speed), and listen to audio without text sometimes (build listening only skills). I did a bit of all 3 activities, but I speny the majority of my time reading without audio... and now I have to work harder on my listening skills to fix the large dfference between reading and listening skills.

Stuff I listened to:

Lazy Chinese (perfect for beginners, also any other Comorehensible Input Lessons youtube channels, see Comprehensible Input Wiki for more channels)

Peppa Pig (doable for beginners)

Maomi Chinese (easiest podcast I've found)

Astroboy Chinese dub (I have a lot of reading skills, cartoons for 5-10 years old are perfect for me)

Tea Time Chinese (intermediate podcast, doable for me)

Talk to Me in Chinese (intermediate podcast, doable ish for me)

Dashu Mandarin (advanced podcast, I don't quite understand it yet)

The Untamed condensed audio

Guardian condensed audio

Ice Fantasy condensed audio

镇魂 audiobook (I'm familiar with the plot, so it's doable, I am waiting to continue listening until I finish 默读)

默读 audiobook (I sure love working on difficult stuff I'm into lol, because I'm familiar with the plot it's doable)

HP audiobooks (they're on the easier end and I'm familiar with the plot, I'm going to keep going and see how much I get from it)

Twilight audiobooks (they're on the easier end and I'm familiar with the plot, I'm going to keep going and see how much I get from it)

SCI audiobook (I'm only 2 hours in, hoping it'll be doable soon)

撒野 (I'm only 1 hour in)

[zerocoded]

summary: headcannons about what is like do date zayne.

authors note: yay i love headcannons and i hope you guys enjoy this one! this is all written upon my perspective of zayne and his character, things that i think would suit him bla bla bla, pls don't take everything too seriously.

banner credits: littlebunny on x.

warnings: husband material zayne i guess? • suggestive but nothing nsfw

word count: 0.8k

☆ zayne who actually laughed when you told him your favorite song was snowman by sia.

☆ i get a feeling that zayne is actually ambidextrous which means he has the ability to use both hands equally well, which brings me to the topic that zayne is the king of multitasking.

☆ like you are having trouble with some buttons on your shirt? this man is helping you without even blinking while scrolling through his cell phone with the other hand.

☆ he been through an exceptionally tough day at the hospital? imagine him getting home and discarding his tie with one hand while already unbuttoning his shirt with the other, all of this while making eye contact with you.

☆ speaking of eye contact, i feel that zayne is another level of control freak with everything in his life. do you see how this man built his whole career around wanting to save mc from her disease? man NEEDS to have everything within his reach and on HIS conditions.

☆ that translates to the bedroom when you both are fooling around. like do you think you are closing your eyes anytime here? no, zayne is making sure you are looking at what he is doing to you or his eyes so he could turn your mind into puddy.

☆ are you embarrassed of your sounds or think you both are in a place too public to let yourself go? zayne is not having it. this man is pinning your hands wherever he feels like it and makes it particularly hard for you to shut up.

☆ well, maybe i should go back to the sfw first, i'll make another post about what i think zayne is like in bed hehehe

☆ BRO IS THE MOST GENTLEMAN A GENTLEMAN CAN BE. like in every sense and that is canon.

☆ you will not be opening any doors from now on and will never have to worry about paying in a date. or in anything.

☆ you know what else he does? he is not only a gentleman in his mannerisms but also in his attitude. you would never catch my man zayne raising his voice at you or anyone ever.

☆ he takes his time to listen to you speak. and i mean listen. be it two minutes or three hours about your new favorite tv program, this man will be devoted to each word you say.

☆ zayne is usually a silent type of guy, being the listener of the relationship instead of the speaker. even if you also don't talk that much, he is happy to enjoy a few minutes of silence with you at home. he really likes the fact that you love him and don't judge his more reserved persona.

☆ i see zayne as more of an insecure man at the beginning of your relationship. i mean, he doesn't let it show but later confesses to you how much he was scared you would go away after a few weeks with him.

☆ on the other hand, doctor zayne knows exactly what he wants. he has his opinions and preferences and he doesn't let anyone change that. i mean that in a sense that you guys would probably have arguments over everyday things like the way he thinks grocery shopping should go or how to dry clean twice a week the kitchen because he is certain that that is the dirtiest place at his house when you come over.

☆ zayne is a hard headed man and you are probably the only one who can convince him to change a little of his demanding habits.

☆ regarding his health, you guys argue over that a lot. somehow this man tends to overprotect you so much that it pisses you off when you see him not sleeping at all. how dare he demand something from you and not pay attention to himself daily?

☆ he always says sorry when you guys fight by building little snowmen throughout the house and leaving a corny note on the fridge promising he will pay more attention to his sleep schedule for now on.

☆ also i think that zayne is a big words of affirmation partner, he LOVES to praise you while making eye contact - again, control freak - and waiting to see your flushed cheeks because that is his favorite look on you.

☆ miss here have a late-night craving? zayne is running to the closest store at the darkest crack of dawn to buy you your wish, even if you try to stop him he is like "don't worry, love, i'll be quick" and proceeds to kiss your forehead while putting a jacket on and rushing outside.

☆ you’re so his passenger princess. this man will be moving mountains to do what you want and he’s so good at it.

☆ you can disagree with me but i will say it: zayne matches SO MUCH with a little age difference. like he is "too sweet by hozier" and you are a little "messy by lola young".

☆ but my favorite trope is zayne with a badass partner that is also a genius like him and they both make the perfect power couple at akso hospital.

☆ i'll stop here but i have so many of these that i could make 😣 let me know if you guys would like to see more.

author's note: pls, i would love to hear what you think of this work! sorry for any misspelling. send me a request • my masterpost

[imustbenuts]

nuts reading trigun in japanese 3 - "weirdo" and vash's pronoun switching

disclaimer: my jp reading posts are all for triangulation purposes and nothing else. scanlating mangas is tough work. @-@ i know this.

"Weirdo"

the word 'weirdo' in 2024 english carries connotations of neutral-bad or positive depending on the context of the speaker. depending on how one curates their internet space, weirdo often leans more positively with the same meaning as eccentric, but not always.

however, but in JP, "weird" is more specific and often negative. there's the well known, hentai 変態 (ie. deviant, pervert, freak, extremely negative in tone), and in this case, kimochi warui 気持ち悪い (gross, off-putting, bad vibes). eccentrics are more as 変人 henjin and carries a more neutral tone.

in this panel here papa nebreska uses 気持ち悪い in katakana キモチワルイ in reaction to vash busting his ass saving people and putting out of harms' way. vash's vibes are so off putting to this wanted man he's actually creeped out.

this is particularly interesting to me bc the english translation didn't end up portraying how utterly weird vash's mindset is fully. it wasnt until wolfwood points out how flawed vash's pacifist mindset do i get a proper frame of reference of norms in this world, but i might be having skill issues in english comprehension. ;w;

Pronoun switching

quick. 俺 Ore! 僕 Boku! 私 Watashi! they all mean "I", and there's 2 spectrum of expressions going on here thats commonly believed. 1st being Masculinity to Femininity. what's the 2nd?

the answer is... Rudeness/Assertiveness to Politeness. and gosh does vash switch a lot between Boku and Ore in the first 4 chapters of this manga lmao.

(to be clear, while i am aware of trans hc thats very popular in the fandom, im not at all diminishing or talking about gender expression specifically. im talking about what vash is presenting himself as in context.)

so to perhaps oversimplify this, in JP the idea of politeness and hierarchy is so super duper important, its very built into the language itself. and Japanese is a very high context language. if someone of a higher or equal standing uses "Ore", its totally fine. but if someone of a lower standing uses "Ore", they've committed a social faux pas.

as an obvious example, if a fresh new employee approaches his Boss with "Ore", he's potentially getting dressing down in the company. maybe in front of his coworkers. if this employee forgoes polite speech (keigo) and uses a too Assertive and Casual speech, they've Really Fucked Up and are one foot out the door.

this is also tied up in gender to some extent, hence why girls using Ore is incredibly uncommon, but guys would use Watashi in certain contexts such as talking to their Boss. (woo woo the forces of hierarchy/patriarchy... or something.)

so. vash switches his pronouns for the same effect. when he uses Ore, he's making himself sound more assertive and confident. when he uses Boku, he's often making himself sound less threatening, smaller, open, and trying to avoid conflict.

sound familiar?

bc if you translated all of that into a character design instead of relying on just jp pronouns, we'd get TriStamp Vash.

slight spoilers, but this is even true in one of the tensest moments between vash and wolfwood, where the latter provokes vash and tears into his pacifism ideology. vash sticks with boku in this scene as he says his piece.

if he ever uses watashi, it's bc he wants to be polite straight out of the gate with an air of formality. (this is japanese manners and the proper approach to talking to strangers. mainly to get a feel for each others standing without offense until context changes.)

i also wanna point out maybe something obvious here but.

real life pronoun switching in japanese is a COMMON thing. no one ever really sticks to 1 pronoun bc of Good Manners and the aforementioned hierarchical systems in place. it is only mostly in anime/manga and video games where characters overly prefer 1 due to this being a good shorthand for characterization. this being how rude or polite they are, and in some cases, Gender.

[rene-spade]

Hi ren!

Would dad!nando be okay/be less helicopter parent protective mode around drivers that speak spanish? Not drivers like in a romantic way, but a platonic way too - I can kinda see him trusting Checo with his daughter and telling him to keep an eye on Max and also to teach Spanish to Max and I kinda also see Nando not being as strict with his daughter when he's assured that other Spanish/Spanish-speaking drivers/Latinx drivers are around

he’s definitely partial to spanish speakers!! it maybe puts him at ease a little bit that she’s around someone that knows her first language. but also bro doesn’t play about his child and I think he’s normally just immediately not fond of men around her period. that being said 🗣️, his preference for carlos was something that built up over time, he didn’t like carlos around her at first either. It definitely helped that carlos is spanish and also that he really idolizes nando so.

nando is actually prone to jealousy around checo bc of this! 😭 maybe at first he was chill about his daughter being around checo compared to others on the grid, but then she once compared checo to her dad and nando has been like 😶💣🔪 ever since. he’s her only papa!

but max deffff tries to use checo to his advantage to try and learn spanish. he’s successful for a little bit, but spain spanish and mexico spanish are a bitttt different and it causes a lot of confusion bc baby alonso cannot understand max’s accent or mexican slang that he’s trying to use. the rest of the grid learn from max’s mistake and they all hire personal spanish tutors who are specifically from spain.

[spanishskulduggery]

I recently (ish) taught my counselor I see weekly the word agobiada because when she was asking how I was doing, I used that and said I felt like it was more appropriate than saying overwhelmed. Are there any words for emotions in Spanish you feel convey things differently than their English translation/equivalent that you prefer?

My general opinion is that English approaches things... almost scientifically with words. It feels like for English we have so many more words that convey very specific feelings compared to other synonyms, so I find that I'm almost translating my feelings rather than the words

I've said it before in other posts I think but in English "giggle", "chuckle", "scoff", and "snicker" have totally different vibes but if you look up the words in Spanish it's usually both reír "to laugh" and then you have to add a qualifier

Like "to scoff" is sometimes reír de forma contemptuosa/disgustada "to laugh in a contemptuous/displeased way", while "giggle" I've seen come out as reír disimuladamente "to laugh discretely"

And though I do get the feeling, it kind of takes me out of it - but on the other hand it must be so confusing for a Spanish-speaker to be trying to decide which word is best

English has a very "there's a perfect word for this" while Spanish is more free form and built on vibes and context, and has better words for community, family, and intense and subtle emotions while English is like surgically picking something very specific

-

Usually it's the other way around for me. Spanish doesn't have a good enough distinction between words of horror in my opinion

Things like "creepy" are harder to translate because there's espeluznante which can be "hair-raising" or "terrifying" but it's hard to convey the same... vibe of "it could be dangerous but it might not be"

I usually have to say mal rollo like "bad vibes" or some other kind of word to get the idea

Emotions in general are harder to translate well; especially happiness and joy, or fear

-

For Spanish there are just... I don't know there are more specific words that I wish English had

I can't translate mala leche into English very well but any Spanish-speaker knows the intense bad vibes that mala leche has

[also not counting really specific words like tocayo/a "someone who has the same name as you", or "namesake" and "someone you were named after; which makes sense in regions that had strict name regulations coming from Latin or the Bible/saints for many decades]

...

The other word that I have to always preface is la comida

Because it does mean "food", but it's also "meal". But more importantly, la comida is sometimes the big midday meal we would call "lunch", which is all very different as far as the eating schedule in places with siesta culture rather than the three main meals of (American) English

-

Also I feel like English has better words that come from onomatopoeias or at least more variety in some of them; to me "squish" and "squash" have different feelings like there's a sound that plays in my head, but it all kinds of comes out as aplastar "to crush" in Spanish

[object-show-opinions]

how do you feel about pin in bfdia? :3

*neck snaps* is that an excuse to talk about my favorite character of all time I hear!?

Pin, Pin, Pin, Pin, Pin, Pin. How the mighty have fallen.

This gets to be a little complex, so I’m going to start at BFDI, where everything began.

A thing I noticed from even the first episode is that Pin isn’t very observant, like, at all. She doesn’t seem to be purposefully mean, she just does what she wants even if people get mad.

She seems especially oblivious to the other objects’ opinions of her. Despite being the leader, and very confident in her abilities, the others are happy when she gets out, and Pin is hurt. This, I feel, leads into her realizing that no one really likes her. She’s been pushing people away, and hasn’t been a true leader, and she wants to be a good leader, even if she doesn’t seem to look like it.

So BFDIA happens, and Team No-Name immediately kick her out. While this does lead to her meeting Coiny and becoming best friends, this still does affect her.

We see again how she doesn’t really think of the consequences of her actions with how she accidentally stabs Puffball Speaker Box. While she was trying to kill Leafy, she doesn’t really understand why Puffball took her limbs, and she begins to feel betrayed.

Like she’s doing something wrong.

It must have gotten even worse when she lost her face. I think she was still conscious, so she was just feeling alone. Her team ignored her and mocked her, and her best friend called her useless. Despite the care Coiny gave to her later when she shrunk, there’s another important piece of her personality.

Pin’s a fighter, and someone who isn’t very optimistic. She doesn’t see what she’s doing wrong, how her actions lead to people disliking her. She wants to do something about it, so when she gets her mech suit, she wants revenge.

But it’s not enough.

Everything still does affect her. She isn’t happy with just BFDIA 14, she needs to win. She needs to show them that she hasn’t forgotten what she did.

But she keeps losing people. And the team that was built from the ground up, from just Coiny, Pin, and Donut, was now nothing, which coalesced into the disbandment of Woah Bunch.

There was one last thing Pin did that I haven’t seen most people notice. She’s sad, she wants to find a way to keep working with Coiny, but he leaves her immediately. This is the true last straw. In Pin’s mind, this proves everything right. No one truly cares for her, so she has to fight on her own, because she can trust nobody.

She has to win to prove everyone wrong.

And so she pushes away those who cared about her, because she doesn't think they’re worthy, and on a deeper level, doesn’t think she’s worthy. She wasn’t able to lead, not even be a true friend. So she just fights for herself and no one else, since there’s no other option.

Can you tell a really like Pin-

Sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoyed my analysis!

Also, requests are still open! I analyze characters, ships, and lots of different object shows. I also just do art of the characters if you’d prefer that!

[traintrainingmontage]

Railway Reincarnation Part 2?

YESSSSSSS alright!! Here we go; if you need a refresher on the AU, I HIGHLY recommend that you read Part 1! (To be fair, you should probably reacquaint yourself with Part 1 anyway, since it's been about a week.) Here we gooooo!

(CW: Mentions of death; notable angst)

(Interested in submitting a prompt of your own or seeing what I've written so far? Take a look here!)

Days stretched into weeks, which then slipped into months, followed by years. Rheneas had settled into his quiet life on Sodor, working alongside Skarloey and getting to know his new home. Strangely, this railway, despite the fact that he had never seen or even heard much about it before his arrival, teased out a deep and cloying sense of nostalgia and fondness from the depths of his heart, as though he'd lived here all his life and had never wanted to leave.

Something about how the trees swayed lightly, the rich red of the flowers, and the chatter of passengers, many of which spoke mainly in English but often slipped into Sudric as well, all contributed to this feeling. Interestingly, he appeared to have a fairly good understanding of Sudric, managing to pick it up quite quickly, and Mr. Mack, the railway controller, even commented that his accent was spot-on for the valley, as though he were a native speaker. However, even he wasn't as fluent as Skarloey apparently was, because his counterpart spoke Sudric with such ease that it was as if he'd been built here. Even more mysteriously, whenever Rheneas inquired, the older engine simply laughed it off, saying that he'd had a while to practice and that he was sure Rheneas would catch up soon. Coming from anyone else, it surely would have been condescending, but Skarloey's encouragement was so genuine that Rheneas couldn't interpret it as anything but.

Overall, his impressions closely matched his initial thoughts: a truly lovely island, with picturesque views and idyllic towns dotting the hills, but also filled with some rather strange characters. One had been a railway worker, who had initially stared at him as though he were a ghost. Once they were acquainted, he introduced himself as Alexander, but seemed awfully nervous for some reason, especially after he'd asked if, by chance, Rheneas recognized him, to which the engine promptly responded that he'd never seen him before. This seemed to unnerve the worker further, and he resigned the next day.

Another strange character was Skarloey himself. Rheneas' crimson counterpart was oddly chummy and sometimes overly familiar, going so far as to call him "brother" after only a few months of knowing each other. Realistically, they were more akin to cousins than anything, but using such an intimate term in such a short span of time felt rather offputting... or at least, it should have. Once again, had it come from any other engine, Rheneas would have most certainly resisted, but from Skarloey, it almost felt... right. Or at least, not nearly as bothersome as Rheneas had initially expected. Sure, Skarloey's jubilant personality could be grating at times, but Rheneas shockingly didn't mind the closeness, even as he preferred to keep most everyone else, even his crew, at arm's length.

For some reason, Skarloey often seemed to be an exception when it came to Rheneas' deep desire for personal space, whether emotional or physical.

Still, that didn't change the fact that although Skarloey could be a genuine joy to be around, especially after he had learned his lesson about being too full of himself after getting caught in a mudslide, Rheneas' bro—counterpart could also be deeply vexing. For one thing, when they'd first met, Skarloey had appeared to have some kind of nightmare about being human that seemed to have engraved itself in his memory. At the time, he'd asked Rheneas if he'd had similar dreams, only for him to confirm that he hadn't. However, Skarloey had brought the matter up at least twice after that, with Rheneas shutting down such ridiculous notions both times until Skarloey apparently got the hint and stopped asking. It was a strange query, and one that worried him; engines weren't supposed to have thoughts or nightmares about being human. Engines were supposed to do their jobs with minimal fuss and come back to the sheds satisfied, or so he'd been told many a time. Rheneas couldn't help but be grateful that Skarloey had either stopped having that nightmare or had lost interest in the subject, because an engine that didn't behave himself properly would find himself punished, and he would never wish the other ill.

The other vexing aspect of Skarloey, however, was that it was quite clear that he was keeping secrets, and while Rheneas normally wouldn't have thought much of it, it seemed as though the No. 1 wasn't telling him, but perfectly happy to discuss whatever it was with other engines. Namely, one tank engine in particular from their neighboring railway, known as Neil.

Rheneas liked Neil. He genuinely did. The box tank was calm yet kind, and often watched his brother's antics with a small smile on his face, as though he found Skarloey's various antics rather charming. However, when the two engines were together, they clearly seemed inclined to talk about something that Rheneas was not allowed to be privy to.

This had never been quite so apparent as it had been the other day, when the crimson engine was just returning to the sheds at Crovan's Gate after a long day of work. Sunsets in the Valley were nothing short of breathtaking, and no matter how many times Rheneas saw it, the sun's long fingertips caressing the land as she took her leave for the evening left him with deep sense of satisfaction. On that day, however, such a warm feeling had fled as soon as he'd come upon Skarloey, who wasn't in the shed but on the siding near the standard-gauge track, speaking with Neil. The two of them were facing away from the entrance to the yard, so they didn't notice his approach, and Rheneas found himself deeply torn between wanting to simply take his place in the shed, and whistling loudly enough to startle them both into manners.

Icy annoyance crawled up through his tubes, all of his satisfaction at a day's work done disappearing with the sun, and with a scowl, the No. 2 engine made up his mind. "You two go ahead," he murmured to his crew. "I'll take my place in a minute."

Both driver and fireman shared uneasy glances, but did as they were asked, clambering out of his cab to go get the cleaning tools. From where he was, Rheneas could just make out the other engines' conversation, feeling only slightly bad for eavesdropping and fully ignoring the uglier feelings lurking beneath.

"But that's just it! I don't think he remembers a thing," Skarloey bemoaned, frustration evident in his voice. "I've tried to bring it up with him before, but he just looked at me like I'd gone mad. He's finally warming up to me, and I don't want to ruin that by being... you know."

"Ah do," Neil soothed, the steam puffing from his funnel far less agitated than Skarloey's appeared to be. "Ah understand. But ye can't rush it; 'e'll either remember, or he won't. Worryin' 'bout it won't make it happen."

"You're right, but... what if my brother never—"

"Never what?"

The interruption startled even him, but the words were out of Rheneas' mouth before he could stop himself. Sensing that he now had their full attention, the crimson engine could only follow through on his arrival, and he pulled up on the track to the right of Skarloey, finally allowing him to see their faces. Skarloey himself looked rather guilty, as he should have been; he had been talking about Rheneas behind his back, after all. Neil's expression, however, was some mix of sadness, disappointment, and defiance, and despite himself, it made Rheneas' flame crackle.

"Talking about me behind my back? I see. So this is how you two spend your time," Rheneas spat, not entirely sure where all of this venom was coming from, but sensing that the well apparently ran deeper than previously believed. It would have been one thing if this was some secret Skarloey had. It was another that he could entrust Neil with it, but not him. Yet it was entirely something else that apparently, their secret involved him, and they just didn't seem inclined to include him in the conversation.

"Rheneas, we just..."

"Mebbe ye shouldn't talk t' yer brither like that," Neil cut in, and the way he said those words seemed to signal that there was a deeper meaning there. If there was, however, Rheneas couldn't even begin to guess at what, and that only stoked his ire further.

"Don't even try to put this on me. Anybody would be hurt if their two closest co-workers were gossiping about them behind their back!" the smaller tank engine shouted, well aware that his composure was well and truly lost, but in his defense, he could not find it in himself to care. "Besides, you mentioned that I'd forgotten something. Well? Out with it! What have I forgotten that's making you two skulk about and have private conversations about me, hm?"

In the face of Rheneas' deep anger and frustration, Skarloey simply breathed, and made a vain attempt at collecting himself. "Rheneas, do you remember when I asked you about dreams? Or dreaming about being human?"

Rheneas blinked once, then a second time. Out of all of the possible topics that Skarloey could have brought up, this hadn't been the first, or even the fifth that he would have considered. "I... yes, I do. You'd asked if I'd ever had dreams of falling into Skarloey, I think."

"Yes! That's right," Skarloey chirped, his expression brightening slightly. "Well, Neil and I have been talking about those dreams. He's... um... he's had dreams like that too. And so, we were wondering if you'd maybe forgotten that you'd had... any dreams like that... if you'd had them at all..." Skarloey's voice, originally so bright, had withered in moments as Rheneas' face shifted from blazing anger to biting frostiness in the blink of an eye.

"Are you still on about that?" Rheneas intoned, voice clipped as a chill of fear bolted through his tubes. "Has he been feeding into those ridiculous thoughts of yours?" Damn it. He'd thought this whole matter had been laid to rest, but no, apparently Skarloey was still thinking about it. What if it affected his work? What would the Controller do to him if word got out that Skarloey apparently dreamed about being human sometimes? Would he punish him? Think he'd gone mad and replace him?

No. He couldn't let that happen. Not to Skarloey.

"You should know better than to share your delusions with others," Rheneas rasped, willing the other to understand. "It's not safe. What if somebody hears you? What if they decide to replace you because of this?!"

A long silence stretched between the three engines, the sun now having completely set. The crews and cleaners were nowhere to be seen, presumably all having decided to take a longer break than usual to give the engines space.

Finally, Skarloey heaved a great sigh, one that allowed a world-weary gaze to settle upon his face. Rheneas couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the other so tired. "...I understand. You're right; I shouldn't talk about this. Someone, even someone close to me, might think I've gone mad, after all."

For some reason, the words made Rheneas flinch, and he rocked back slightly on his wheels even as Skarloey sent him a gentle smile, undercut by the fatigue etched into his face. "Thank you, Rheneas. Thank you for looking out for me. And... I'm sorry. What I did was incredibly hurtful, and it won't happen again."

Skarloey's apology overflowed with sincerity, and yet Rheneas almost didn't want to accept—not out of pettiness, but because he almost felt like he should be the one apologizing, for some reason. However, he knew better than to drag this whole uncomfortable situation out, so he simply hummed, the ice in his boiler thawing out. "...It's alright. Thank you for the apology."

Neil had remained silent throughout all of this, staring at Rheneas with a deeply complicated expression that the smaller tank engine couldn't even begin to make sense of. Yet after a moment, he too gave a simple apology and made to leave, although he shot one last look at Skarloey before he did so.

Skarloey said nothing in reply, only staring down the line with vacant eyes. Rheneas, also having nothing to say, simply waited alongside him, respecting the gulf of silence between them, until the cleaners finally dared to return.

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

After that day, Skarloey never again talked about nightmares or thoughts of being human, much to Rheneas' satisfaction (and relief). Thus, fifty more years plodded by, passing along in relative peace... that is, up until they didn't.

With the Great War in full swing, slate was being mined in greater quantities than ever. The railway was under new management (and distinctly better management, as after Mr. Mack had died, the two little engines had been forced to struggle through some truly difficult years together, praying that their fortunes might change), and under the patronage of Sir Handel Brown I, was doing as well as one could expect given the circumstances.

Much to Skarloey and Rheneas' surprise, a newly formed neighboring railway was being implemented, known as the NWR, or the Northwestern Railway. This of course was of great interest to the two engines, and they had both taken a shine to Edward, one of several engines who'd been sent over to assist with the building.

Rheneas liked Edward. He genuinely did. The tender engine was wise and insightful, and often had interesting news to share whenever their paths crossed at Crovan's Gate. However, while Rheneas generally enjoyed talking with Edward, one conversation in particular had left him feeling rather irate.

It had been another lovely day on Sodor, so perfectly mundane that one would be forgiven for thinking that the war happening just half the world away was nothing more than fearmongering. Both Skarloey and Rheneas were in the yard, getting steamed up, when Edward pulled up for a quick greeting before he headed off to deliver a goods train.

"So," the blue engine began, his tone light and conversational, "Skarloey and Rheneas. Have you two always had those names?"

"Oh, no," Skarloey started, but then he hesitated, almost seeming to catch himself. "I mean, there's no way my brother and I wouldn't—"

"What Skarloey means," Rheneas interrupted with a sigh, "is that yes, we've always had these names."

This shouldn't been too shocking; any local or historical record would have shown that yes, they'd had these names since their creation. Yet, as the blue engine looked at them, Rheneas thought he saw a slight flash of surprise quickly cross Edward's face, but it was so brief that he couldn't be sure.

"...Right," the tender engine continued. "Well, I was just curious. You two seem to be named for places on your line, while Thomas and I chose our names ourselves, so I was wondering."

"Yes," Skarloey replied. "Your names do seem rather... human."

At the unexpected statement, Rheneas barely managed to bite back a sharp admonishment. Human? AGAIN? He'd thought this had been put to rest decades ago, and now Skarloey was bringing it up in front of ANOTHER engine? Had he learned nothing from what Rheneas had been trying to tell him all this time? What would Edward say?

However, not even in Rheneas' wildest dreams could he have expected what Edward would say next.

"I suppose that's true," the blue engine pondered. "In fact, I've even thought about being human before; have either of you had such daydreams before?"

"Oh yes," Skarloey answered hastily. "I've thought about it quite—"

"And you shouldn't be," Rheneas snapped, severing the flow of conversation before any more damage could be done. "Edward, it was lovely to see you, but it seems as though you have a job to do. I'll also ask that you don't fill my brother's head with any strange ideas, thank you."

The silence that followed was deafening. From his wide eyes and dumbfounded expression, Edward had no ready reply to such a blistering request, and Rheneas steadfastly refused to turn his gaze toward the engine beside him, willfully ignoring the deep upset lurking in his gaze, the horror and mortification and pain blending together on his face, the way his still-building steam cut off momentarily in absolute shock as he struggled to get himself back together.

"...Yes. You're right. I should go," Edward finally murmured, his gaze sympathetic as he looked towards Skarloey. "I wish you only the best of luck."

With that, the blue tender engine gave one last peep peep! and pulled away from Crovan's Gate, leaving behind a silence wider than ever before separating the two crimson engines.

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

Deep in the night, while the moon sailed across the sky and the stars flicked in the celestial sea, Rheneas awoke with a start, eyes flying open as he forced heaving breaths through his tubes. By some miracle, he hadn't woken Skarloey, who was parked right in front of him and snoozing soundly, but that was the extent of Rheneas' fortunes. "Damn it..." the crimson engine swore softly. "Not again... not another blasted dream!"

Ever since the conversation with Edward over a month ago, Rheneas had started to have strange, worrisome dreams. Dreams of an old woman he didn't recognize next to some human wearing Skarloey's face, laughing and smiling and calling him brother. Dreams of that same human grabbing him and propelling him across a lake he intrinsically knew to be Skarloey, albeit iced over... until it shattered. Having to watch that familiar face smile peacefully as he fell into what he knew was deathly cold water, a sacrifice that he himself might live. Dreams of walking alongside several other humans and hiking around the beautiful vistas of Skarloey and Rheneas, pointing out landmarks. Dreams of the falls, and a strong feeling of dread, before he woke himself up, just like he had tonight.

"Urgh," Rheneas moaned, his mind hazy and his memories bleary, everything running together like a river, confusing and loud. He needed to try to get back to sleep, but sleep seemed as though it might prove to be elusive, despite how weary he felt in his soul. What had changed? Why had he started having such strange dreams now? Was it because Skarloey had brought up the topic after so many years of silence? Or was it Edward confirming that his counterpart's odd dreams weren't simply an imagination gone wild, since he apparently had such visions too? Whatever the case, Rheneas was less than pleased about the situation; he was supposed to be sensible and rational, damn it, and this... this unnerved him in a way that he couldn't even begin to explain.

Still, with great effort, Rheneas finally fell back into a fitful sleep, and thankfully, had no more strange dreams coming to plague him.

As he awoke the next morning, groggy and lethargic, he was pleasantly surprised to hear that he and Skarloey would be double-heading the first train of the morning.

"You've both seemed rather tired lately, especially you, Rheneas," their Controller smiled kindly. "Not that I can blame you, what with everything happening. So, you both can have a nice long run up to the slate quarry, and bring down a shipment together. Does that sound good to you both?"

"Oh, yes, sir!" Skarloey beamed, only for his grin to droop almost immediately. "That is, if Rheneas is alright with it."

"Of course," Rheneas immediately replied, still terribly tired, but not so much that he could ignore the pang of sorrow in his soul at Skarloey's hesitant reply. "I would greatly enjoy that."

"Then yes, I would too!" the other engine cheered, clearly relieved, and once again, Rheneas couldn't help but berate himself at the thought of being the reason why Skarloey had been so reserved lately. Maybe on this run, with just the two of them, he could apologize and clear the air.

Soon, the two of them were in steam and setting off, Skarloey in front and Rheneas behind him. They were to wind their way up from Crovan's Gate, crossing the newly built Iron Bridge as they made their way to one of the several slate quarries near Rheneas station. It was a trip they'd both made many times before, yet this time, it seemed to drag on into eternity, an air of uncertainty between the two engines as if they both wanted to say something, yet had no idea where to start.

Finally, once they reached the quarry and their crews left to coordinate with the quarry foreman and load up their trucks, it was Rheneas who spoke first. "Skarloey, I... I'm sorry that things have been so awkward between us lately. I know it's my fault, and I want to make it right. I shouldn't have been so cruel."

There was a brief pause, and then a gentle sigh. "No, you shouldn't have. You really hurt my feelings, Rheneas. But I know why you did it; you've always been worried that my talk of humans would get me into trouble. Frankly, when it came to dealing with the old management, you were right, and even I could see that. So I followed your advice.

"But now... things are different. Our Owner and Controller are kind people. We have good crews. We have more work than ever. In fact, we're practically indispensable."

There was another long pause, but when Skarloey resumed, Rheneas didn't have to see his face to perceive the tears held carefully at bay. "Do you know how much it hurts to know that your own dear brother thinks you're mad? That you're delusional?" Skarloey practically spat that last word, and it struck Rheneas deeply, for he had said such a thing, hadn't he?

"I've been trying so hard to be kind and understanding, and yet whenever I tried to talk about what was haunting me, you shut me down. So instead, I turned to other engines, and yet, I couldn't find respite there either, all because you were trying so hard to protect me in the way you thought was best, despite my feelings. And yet, I did as you wanted, because as I said, you were almost certainly right."

Rheneas couldn't bring himself to speak. Skarloey's accusations were all true, and he knew it.

"Still... just once, I wish that you would be willing to listen to me. Just once, you would hear me. It's been so many years, and yet I still feel as though I'm drowning in it all."

The emphasis on that particular word gave Rheneas pause, fragments of his recent dreams flashing rapidly through his mind, never more vivid as they were right now. With a shaking voice, he began to speak, barely stringing the words together. "I... Skarloey. When we get back to Crovan's Gate, I... I would like to hear it. All of it. Every single detail that you can muster. Please. Please tell me."

Skarloey gave a short gasp of surprise, clearly not expecting this sort of answer. "I... alright. If you'd like to hear it, I... I would deeply appreciate being able to tell you."

The sincere warmth in his voice helped steady Rheneas somewhat, and he managed to take a deep breath, pulling himself together just as their crews returned. "Alright, everything's in order! Let's get back you two," Rheneas' driver announced. With that, the two engines made use of a siding to get themselves turned around, and backed down onto the consist so that they could make their way back down from the quarry. The trip started off smoothly; although neither engine had much to say, the quiet between them was far more companionable than it had been when they'd left. However, trouble soon found them as they began to cross the Iron Bridge.

The Iron Bridge was a fairly new construction; there was another way to get up to the currently operational slate mines, but it was somewhat out of the way and was a longer route overall, so the railway and the quarry had this bridge built for convenience. It crossed the basin of Rheneas itself, making for a lovely view, in addition to a straightforward and convenient means of getting up into the hills. However, there was one problem: the Iron Bridge was quite narrow, rather high, and had no safeguards in place. Thus, a moment's distraction could lead to dire consequences.

Unfortunately, a moment's distraction was all it took. Skarloey, who had surely been contemplating Rheneas' uncharacteristic change of heart, didn't notice that some detritus had blown onto the bridge. In a split second, his wheel was slipping, only to soon touch nothing but air as he began to veer precariously off the side of the bridge. "AHHHHH!" he wailed, his fear palpable as he stared down at the murky abyss below, and his eyes clenched shut, as though waiting for the inevitable.

However, it would never come.

Not on Rheneas' watch.

Not on his brother's watch.

With great effort, Rheneas clenched his jaw and began to reverse, holding fast to Skarloey as he carefully dragged the other engine back onto the bridge. Flashes of memories interspersed themselves with reality, forming a kaleidoscopic tapestry of light and sound, stretching across past and present. His brother falling beneath the ice, all to save his life. His own death. His brother had saved him and he'd died anyway.

Surveying the falls. Saving the surveyor. A single slip and nothing beneath, the Earth grasping for him with commanding gravity.

Well. Death would not have his way with either of them today.

Finally, at long last, Rheneas managed to pull Skarloey backwards to dependable rails on firm, solid Earth, where their crews ensured that he was alright to continue. Once they'd all caught their breath, Skarloey finally managed to speak.

"Rheneas, you... you saved me! You—"

"Just like... you saved me. Only this time... we're both still here."

Rheneas' words caused Skarloey to falter, but try as he might, he couldn't continue his thought; his mind and memory were overlapping in painful flashes, to the point that he didn't even hear the concern in his crew's voices as they fretted over the two engines' condition. Trapped in his own mind, Rheneas barely even registered that Skarloey had begun journeying across the bridge once again, determined to get them both back to Crovan's Gate as soon as safely possible.

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

The slate had been delivered with little issue, and the morning train postponed. Although doing so had earned the ire of the passengers, the Controller had taken one look at Rheneas and determined that he was to take the rest of the day off. Skarloey, for his part, had asked to be parked in front of him, and even through the haze blanketing his mind, Rheneas could feel the weight of Skarloey's gaze upon him, searching his face for answers.

"Rheneas... are you... do you..." he finally murmured, not quite sure how to put what he was asking into words, but this time, at long last, Rheneas understood.

Rheneas understood everything.

"Skarloey, you... you're my big brother. You died saving me, but I... oh God. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I... I..."

Tears began to flood down Rheneas' cheeks, the fog finally receding from his mind. "I kept you waiting for so long. I was so horrible to you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Shhhhhhh," came his brother's gentle voice, comforting in a way that Rheneas had never fully appreciated until this very moment. "It's alright. It's ok. You're here now, and so am I. It doesn't matter how long I've waited; what matters is that you remembered me at all."

"But everything I said... everything I did—"

"—You did for my sake. Even if you didn't remember why, you still acted out of love for me anyway. How could I ever begrudge you for that?"

Thus, in the quiet shed on a bright morning, two brothers ensouled in steel finally had a proper reunion. Even through their tears, their smiles were wide and their laughter was bright, both of their expressions heartfelt reflections of the torrent of emotions coursing through them.

It was true that they would always be burdened by who they were. However, such a thing mattered so very little, given that in life, then death, than life again, they were still together, still brothers, and despite everything, still themselves.

[captain-ultimat-doggo]

MORE SHIPRATS

More specifically about the suits. I'm picturing cyberpunk type stuff but lets be honest, Humans are humans. There's going to be helmets covered in fauxhawks and stickers, someone's going to opt out of everything practical in preference of a prehensile tail, we're going to express ourselves in thousands of ways. But functionality/general aesthetic I'm picturing for Katie, at least, is starting to form in my mind so you're going to get that. I mentioned a back mounted drone thing and I'll be honest, it's pretty inspired by Stray. One shoulder has a little thing like that, but probably in grey or black to blend in with the average guts of a ship. Maybe the drone itself is clear so that it's even harder for the giants to notice. The other shoulder has a speaker that can pop out that amplifies her voice to communicate if need be. I picture the grappling system to launch from the wrist but the line is actually attached to the waist and the suit works and supports like a rock climbing harness. Backpack is full of all sorts of tools, and Human-Grade adhesives and anchors. Cable management is hella important and superglue and duct tape have evolved to have built in pest repellent.

The Helmet itself is pretty cliche cyberpunk, but it's definitely got gills for aqua or other liquid adventures. There's a mic and earpiece in it of course, often synced to the little drone so she can scout rooms without exposing herself. It's got a little projector as well, mostly used to throw schematics up in place while you work on a problem. (think Ironman).

People have mentioned Magnet boots in the tags and replies, and there's definitely something there. I joked about rollerskates because I LOVE the idea of a little human zooming around underfoot across the smooth floors of a ship. Katie probably has some highly grippy-yet-silent shoes that are closer to those a rock climber would wear; form fitting but not restraining, flexible but still supportive. You need to be able to FEEL your foot placement running across wires and climbing up cables. There's also some ship-rats who insist on running around barefoot. there always have been and there always will be.

I like the idea of the suit having instead of typical oxygen tanks, algae tanks of some kind? like the oxygen is coming from plants that are growing symbiotically from the wearer's waste. They would be small. I Don't like putting too much on the back of this kind of thing because humans need to roll to absorb impact, and even with lower gravity there's a lot of fall risk in this industry. That's one of the reasons as much as possible is on the toolbelt and only bulkier tools would be in the back pack. in emergency you can attach it to the drone and have that hover in a safe spot until you call retrieval. So maybe the plants would be in a living space and the air just circulates through the suit, then you hook up to the plant take to refresh overnight? We know that For sure there's lots of plants and algae tanks in the homes of humans living in space, but Brownies like Katie don't exactly settle well. She's got the wanderlust in her that her parents realized they couldn't conquer, so instead they bought the best gear they could.

That is why short of getting crushed she's not going to be very seriously injured; she could survive in the void for a short period of time in that thing, it's puncture and slash proof, basically anything but blunt force trauma is going to bounce right off. The suit is armor, and it's all about safety. grapples and ziplines and tools are all well and good, but they mean nothing if you get cut in half by a cord snapping or a pissed off space-bug.

Obviously phasers and blasters and all sorts of weapons exist. We love making every kind of science into weapons. Katie relies on what the galactic committee classifies as a "Laser cutter and defabricator" and what humans call "Laser Rifles." She's also got a bunch of tools for cutting through metal that would work on pretty much anything if she needed it too. One of the most important tools, though, would be the spray can- (What did you think i was going to say?) A little can nozzle that can be dipped in anything you use to write, and then sprays it on a surface. Humans communicate through ten foot tall letters out of necessity when talking to Giants, and Graffiti artists figured that shit out forever ago. Katie's model is fancy and can dye the ink different colors if needed. Spray color coding wires and parts is always helpful, especially working in unfamiliar systems.

[cheynovak]

Buckle Bunny Blues

Part 1 introduction

Summary: Tess is a plus size girl who joined her friends to a rodeo. Here she meets Kayce, a washed up country singer who is back in town to support his little brother and father on the ranch.

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated*  -> Storylist: <-

Kayce Daniels leaned against the fence, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching as his younger brother, Colton, prepared for his next ride.

The energy of the rodeo pulsed around him—cheers, the stomp of restless hooves, and the twang of a country song playing over the speakers. It was familiar, almost nostalgic. Yet, Kayce felt like a spectator in his own world these days.

He had to come home since his old man was sick and Colton rather competed than taking care of the range. And unfortunately, his own career was failing too.

He had a tour cancelled and the last year was a bummer in record sales. It seemed like no one seemed to listen to country anymore, the only wanted the spectacle of the rodeo.

Beside him, his friends Jack and Brett were less interested in the competition and more focused on the buckle bunnies fluttering around the arena. Jack had his sights locked on Stephany, a blonde with a bright, flirtatious smile. Kayce rolled his eyes as Jack nudged Brett. “Man, look at her. Tell me she ain’t the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.”

“She’s somethin’,” Brett agreed with a chuckle. “You ever get tired of chasin’ bunnies?”

Jack grinned. “Hell no.”

Kayce exhaled, shaking his head. “When are y’all gonna grow up?”

Brett smirked and turned to him. “Oh, don’t even start, Daniels. You used to be worse than any of us. I remember when you could sweet-talk any woman in this arena.”

Jack laughed. “Yeah, but now? When’s the last time Kayce took a woman home?”

Kayce shrugged, tipping his beer back. “Ain’t about that anymore.”

“Please,” Brett scoffed. “You sayin’ you couldn’t if you wanted to?”

Kayce arched a brow. “I could take home any woman I wanted.”

Jack and Brett exchanged mischievous looks. “Alright then,” Jack said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Let’s make it a challenge.”

Kayce sighed. “What kind of challenge?”

Brett clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We pick the woman you have to ride for the night.” Kayce narrowed his eyes, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Fine. Who?”

Jack scanned the crowd, eyes flitting past the usual rodeo girls before landing on someone unexpected. She sat alone at a small, absentmindedly swirling a straw in her drink. She wasn’t like the buckle bunnies throwing themselves at cowboys. She was quiet, reserved, almost detached from the chaos around her.

But most of all, not the type Kayce would normally go for.

Jack smirked. “Her.”

Kayce turned his head just as she lifted her gaze. Their eyes met, and for a split second, the noise of the rodeo faded into the background. There was something different in her expression—not the usual wide-eyed admiration he was used to. She wasn’t looking at him like he was a star.

She was looking at him like a deer in head lights.

--

Tess had never been a rodeo girl. Unlike her best friends, who thrived in tight jeans and rhinestone tops, batting their lashes at cowboys, she preferred to keep to the sidelines. She wasn’t built like them—small and lean, with an effortless confidence. No, she was tall and very curvy. And though she owned her body in private moments, it was hard not to feel out of place when surrounded by women who looked like they’d stepped out of a country music video.

So when her friends dragged her to the rodeo that evening, she knew her role. She would watch. She would smile. She would sit alone, nursing a drink while they worked their magic on the nearest cowboy.

It didn’t take long before their attention fell on the group of men standing near the fence line, laughing and drinking beer. One, in particular, had their full focus—Kayce Daniels. Mid-thirties, country singer, broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair that curled just past his ears, a gruff beard that made him look rugged instead of untamed, and the kind of green eyes that made a woman forget her own name.

His younger brother, Colton, was the one actually competing today, but Kayce had stolen the spotlight without even trying.

Tess sighed, taking a sip of her soda as her friends giggled their way over to the group. It wasn’t that she was jealous—not exactly. She just knew how this would go. She’d be invisible while they did what they did best. She’d sit at the bar, swirl her straw in her drink, and keep herself entertained with whatever rodeo chaos unfolded around her.

But as the night went on, she felt something strange. A presence. Every now and then, she’d glance up and catch Kayce looking her way. Not in a passing, absentminded sort of way. No, his gaze lingered, thoughtful, like he was trying to piece her together. She’d quickly look away, unsure how to handle being the subject of his attention.

Eventually, when her friends disappeared into the crowd, she found herself alone at a small table outside. The cool air was a relief from the packed arena, and she exhaled, letting the tension slip from her shoulders.

“Mind if I sit?”

She jumped at the deep voice, looking up to find Kayce standing there, beer in hand, watching her with those damn green eyes.

“Uh—yeah, sure.”

He pulled out the chair across from her and settled in, drumming his fingers against the side of his bottle. “Not much for the crowd?”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Not really my scene.”

He nodded like he understood, his gaze never straying. “Seems like your friends are havin’ a good time.”

“They usually do.” She glanced down at her hands, suddenly hyperaware of herself. “I’m more of a background kind of girl.”

Kayce tilted his head, studying her. “Funny. I’ve been watchin’ you all night, and you don’t seem like background to me.”

Her stomach flipped. She blinked, not sure if she’d heard him right. “What?”

He smirked, taking a slow sip of his beer. “I mean, they’re pretty and all, but I like the quiet ones. The ones who don’t need all the noise to be worth lookin’ at.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “I—I don’t know what to say to that.”

He chuckled. “You don’t gotta say anything. Just let me sit here for a while.”

--

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