#she is too hard on herself and needs to take more time for herself to rest because she doesn’t get nearly enough

[ov105]

Tian

So, I just graduated. The reason for my absence was my undergrad thesis that kept me from really pursuing most hobbies. Though now I'm on my sort-of break before enrolling into another form of schooling. It feels good to be back!

5,191 words of Zhou Xinyu. Enjoy!

It was the end of summer, and the rain had begun to fall. Driving from city to city, town to town, watching each sign telling me hello and goodbye in the span of almost a blink. Perhaps the snacks we’ve eaten should’ve done the trick, but I can’t help but think that I should’ve gotten another helping of coffee. It didn’t help that I was driving a car almost just as old as we were, though maybe I should be glad it had a digital player, and not a dial one, to at least keep us company while I drove back. 

Headlights on the road, I gave a glance at the dashboard, 00:15. We need to sleep now, I thought, yet that idea clashed with the idea that no, we need to make it by sunrise. Ignoring whether or not my passenger was only asleep, she must feel so lucky. I just sighed and tried to hum the song in my head, only to realize it was a slower ballad, and now it sounded like a lullaby. 

I tried to remember what I had seen in the guidebook, remembering there was supposed to be a traveler's inn a few kilometers ahead. How much, hell if I knew.

I just sighed, maybe I could quietly pull over and sleep, though I didn’t want us to be a horror film victim, too. I was already lectured about not catching “get-there-itis” behind the wheel. I just muttered, thinking about how far I needed to drive, and went, “fuck.” 

“Don’t you want to rest a bit?” Xinyu quipped.

“Hm?!” I replied.

“Pull over and take a nap,” she ordered, repeating herself much clearer now.

“In a bit, there’s an inn up ahead.” 

“Are you sure it’s safe for us?” she asked. 

I didn’t answer, but I understood her reservations because I shared them. I am sure I saw it a few times in the yellow guidebook, as for the budget inn part, we didn’t have any more money left from our stipend. 

“Yes, it should be.” 

It better be. She sighed as she opened the dash compartment and tried to read the map in the dark. Having stuck it out in a small field down south, a few northerner university students, tending to a small control field with a mentor, sounded stupid on paper. Yet, a government stipend was all that was needed to push this little journey to the south. Now, at the end of those 90, now 92, days, it was only me and Xinyu left to drive the rental back. 

A relieved sigh and restrained elation overcame us when a weak neon sign appeared ahead. It clearly said ���roadside inn.” 

Everything else was procedural after that, I reversed the car in. Before Xinyu and I made our way in, we both agreed it looked pretty rundown, but then again the choice was: a creaky, dusty bed, or ending up in a ditch. Settling down wasn’t an issue at all, save for the madamé at the front desk staring at us for a second or two, backpacks and duffle bags in hand, before telling us water only comes by 7, and handing us a key whose tag we could barely read. 

Opening the door, I just looked at Xinyu, a bit dejected. It was exactly what we paid for; a cheap, little room a few meters in size, slightly peeled walls, tall but with a weak fluorescent light, a stove and old cabinet, a bathroom with only a sink, a fan, and a hard bed only big enough for both of us. 

“Well, we can’t complain now,” she shrugged.

“Just think about going to sleep,” I replied, dropping my things inside the cabinet. Xinyu followed. It was procedural, a haze, and took us only a few minutes to change, letting her wash up before we decided on our side of the bed. I decided to shower, but it took me a while to get the water going. 

I did, however, feel a silent tension, a slight rocking of the boat, and uneasy eyes that quickly tried to rationalize and compose themselves. Maybe it was just the light novels or rumors getting to me, chuckling on the sink before I just washed my face and all that before I carefully got onto the bed. Xinyu had already turned off the lights, and I had stoked the small stove in the corner to keep us warm, using it as some crude nightlight. Hopefully, at least. A fair glow came from the fire that colored the room orange. It was better than pitch darkness in our last change of clothes. 

“You’re not gonna tell them about this right?” I asked as I tried to read the map. She was blocking most of the light as we both sat up against the outer wall. It was just a bit colder than the fan. 

“Huh, why would I?” Xinyu wondered, or maybe it was just me.

“Never mind, I mean, we’re classmates, it shouldn’t be a problem,” I deflected, trying to get myself out of the situation. Focus on the mag.

“Well, don’t make it awkward!” Xinyu snapped back, almost laughing at me. 

“I’m not, it’s just you know, not a setup that usually happens. Not in our group at least.”

She slammed the hardcover and looked at me, puzzled. Fuck. “What?!”

“What?” I asked, folding my magazine, she had put her book down on the floor by now.

“I mean, let’s not lie,” Xinyu started, her eyes looking around for a bit, “You heard some of our classmates right?” before letting out a small giggle.

She leaned closer, and knowing I was one of the late sleepers, I knew what she meant. 

“Yeah, they were doing it in the outhouse,” I flatly replied. I mean, I already had an inkling of the couple she was talking about. Though knowing the girl was one of Xinyu’s friends, she may have told her more intimate details. I could tell my passenger was one part curious and excited.

“I…I don’t know,” she began to stutter, then asked, “Isn’t it kind of thrilling?”

“I don’t know about him, they seemed shy the next morning. We all knew. I’m just glad our professor never noticed,” I replied, trying my best to hide my feelings. It sounded exciting because it sounded straight out of a rumor. 

“Have you ever asked him about it?” Xinyu pressed on. I could notice she was inching closer.

“Yeah,” I broke and cackled a smile, “It was simple, sure, but you’re right to say it was thrilling.”

“Well? Tell me,” Xinyu prodded, noticeably growing more playful. I could just about scratch my head and not mix up the details of it. So I began, at least from what I remembered.

Xinyu and I weren’t that close, blockmates sure, but not at that deep end of what I consider friendship. Of course, no adversaries either, maybe a few group projects here and there, where her goofiness can shine through. I always thought that the campus, as privileged as we were to go inside every time, was not exactly a place to find love from your classmates. Yet here we were talking about somebody else's sex lives.

Xinyu could only be so shocked once I ended my retelling of it. Her mouth was just slightly open, though she had let out a few giggles and gasps, but she did let me finish talking. She was much closer now—and beside me.

“They did a lot more than I thought,” she remarked.

“Yeah, talk about doing more than..,”  I replied, thinking quickly, “you know, a porno,” I was just guessing her friend's bluff. Given that the boys and girls had separate quarters, it seemed bound to happen. Giggling about it a bit, I could just about hear Xinyu turn to me, while her gaze scrambled across the room, and then she began leaning closer. I was backing by the bit, sensing her apprehension, I shut my eyes the same and leaned, closing the distance, and our lips met.

It was a simple kiss, yes, not more than a few seconds, nothing too dramatic or malicious—yet her gaze stayed fixed—Xinyu wanted more. 

Talking was awkward. I leaned towards her for another kiss, half-expecting her to stop me. Instead, she put her left hand on my neck, sliding and slightly pulling me towards her again. It was more intimate, longer this time, a smack rang out once, twice, before Xinyu slowly pushed me away. 

“Wait, you’re okay, right?” she asked.

“Okay, with what?” I asked Xinyu, “Shouldn’t I be asking that?” and well, yes. I was okay with it.

“This,” she replied, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?” 

I think, I just think, that Xinyu knew it would spread like a grass fire if I told this out. She probably knew I was thinking the same. We both had scrambled minds. Certainly uncertain. 

I just nodded, “I won’t.”

She pressed herself forward, another smooch quickly followed by another, before I could feel her shifting to get herself right on my lap. It wasn’t as awkward as I thought it would be, perhaps it was her pheromones talking to me. To be fair, she always smelled good, and I thought I smelled like a bath, so it couldn’t be me. A kiss was all it took for more to follow, and so it did. It was not too fast, smooching, yes, but I can’t tell if we were both good kissers or just lucky to be average. Hands on her waist, there was no rushing, frizzled touches, hasty undressing, yet perhaps it was more so our sense of prudence taking over for that last one, being our last change of clothes. Yet I just knew with how Xinyu had her hands around me, on my shoulder and my neck, that she didn’t want a change of pace just yet. I knew that this torrid kissing, warming herself up, just had to lead somewhere, and with her right on top of me, she was beginning to grind ever so slowly. 

Sliding my hand to her legs, I slowly slid them inward, and bit by bit, forward. Xinyu stopped, she was staring at me. I asked her.

“You want to go through with this?”

She just nodded, “Isn’t it a little late to ask that?” and giggled, another peck, “Keep going.”

Following her, we kept at it. Xinyu’s grind started to move a little faster, urging me on with how hot her breathing was becoming. Taking my left hand around her waist, sliding it toward her ass, fingers slowly dug in on her flesh. Slowly tilting her head and kissing me deeper, she was tight, and I responded in kind and gave her my tongue. Yet a faux tongue was ready between her legs, fingers cupping her pussy, warmth, teasing her. Hearing her hitch at the sudden contact, but not stop as I continued, slowly using two fingers to feel her, up and down, up and down.

The entire time, she never moved her hands downward, perhaps she liked making out more than doing the same to me. Xinyu’s kisses, from simple, playful pecks, to making out, a messy affair where both of our tongues fight to keep in control of ourselves. Short of undressing ourselves, I decided to push my chances further, and sliding my hands in to grope her ass. Just a little more, a little warmer, a little wetter, I thought, before I would do the same to the front. It took a while, but her voice shook a bit when she asked.

“Why won’t you just finger me?” 

I didn’t respond, perhaps thinking of some one-liner that just wouldn’t come out. I had a slender woman sitting on my lap, waiting for me to do something beyond second base. 

“How about this then?” Xinyu followed. Her left hand moved downward while she pressed her lips to mine. Mirroring my hand, her fingers wrapped around my crotch, quickly getting the shape of my shaft through my pajamas. Breaking off a little, I could just a little “oh,” leave her.

That was the permission I needed. Our lips came together again, I took my hand out from behind her and switched, yet somehow fumbled to find the hem of her panties. Slowly beckoning me on with the way her fingers slid and stroked my cock even under the layers, trying to make it a solid shape for herself. Trying to find a moment where she stopped moving, I slid my hand in, but not under her panties where it would be hard to do anything. I had more in mind.

Xinyu was warm. A wet spot had formed over her panties from the circles I was drawing on her. A layer past that, there was a moistness that had formed over her panties, just a little more, I thought. Pressing my fingers down, I traced her folds where they would be, her responding as I struck her clit more times than she’d like, slightly moving backward. Hearing her let out a quiet moan as I kept rubbing further through the fabric. 

Sensing some boldness in the air, Xinyu tried to put her left hand in my boxer, though I grabbed her by the wrist with my right hand. I was fine, she was a bit shocked, did I suddenly get cold feet? I don’t know what came over me, but I was more than fine getting hard from hearing her alone. Not yet, Xinyu, not yet.

“I-I’m okay,” I blurted out, trying to string something while I had my hands between her legs, using my fingers to send my message. It was her moment, not mine, “Just let me.” 

Xinyu just smiled, withdrawing her hand, but not before grabbing my cock through the cloth this time, sighing before saying, “You know, I started wondering about this when..,” squeezing my shaft and turning into a whisper, “I saw you doing it one night.”

I was in shock, turning red, and Xinyu knew it, but by now she knew how to shut me up. If that was the case, we continued making out, slowly I tried to move her panties to the side just to gain an entry, but almost always missed. She was a little more frisky now, I was at a position of disadvantage, yet I could pin her down, but she had me pinned down with her lips. She was moaning as we made out, tongues together, while the other pair of lips was just waiting for my fingers to push through. She then stopped for a second to plunge her hand right between her legs too, sliding her panties to the side for me, telling me as she pulled her lips away, “Put it in.”

Xinyu was wet enough, and I wasn’t just going with one, so two fingers went in. My fingers weren’t as long as hers, but her sudden moan and pull meant I must’ve hit something good. Not stopping, I prodded further to my amusement, and she shuddered a bit. I awkwardly tried to get a grip as her fingers scrambled while beginning to move inside. Though trying to finger her with her panties was quite limiting. I tried what I could, and well, it just seemed to work. Not long after, our lips were back together while she began to move to my fingers, timing playing my fingers jammed between her lips as the others also slammed with hers.

Xinyu was whispering when she pulled her lips away, but not to me, to herself. I was unable to make it out, but I couldn’t even think as her breath would hitch and latch onto my lips again. 

By now, we had melted out of our tenseness. Yet when Xinyu kissed me first, it was different from the same woman whose tongue I was against now. She quickly did away with formalities, and now, my fingers are wet. 

“Go deeper.” 

Eh? It wasn’t even that long after I started, nor was there much for me to give with my fingers. Yet she wanted deeper? Fine. Perhaps she was trusting me too much.

I stuck them as deep as I could, hooking my fingers inside forward as my pinky began to strain. Keeping our lips together, I could hear Xinyu hitch her breath and pull me closer, hearing a squeal as she seemed to melt right onto my fingers. She was holding on much closer now, with her lips picking up the pace as she kept moving her hips. Listening to her and waiting for the occasional command. Through the muted moaning, shuddering, squealing, and squelching, we both knew we could hear, I was leading her.

I pulled my fingers out for a second. They were wet. I jammed them back in and her breath hitched, catching onto my lips again as I continued rolling my fingers in a hook, feeling the warmth of her slowly flowing down, then dripping between my fingers. I tried to think of anything to say but just nothing, only the warmth of Xinyu’s guts right at my fingertips filled me. Her moans kept my warmth going, yet I wanted her, but I needed to wait.

“You okay?” I asked as I felt Xinyu shaking ever so often. I couldn’t lie to myself. I was mirroring her too. With bated breaths and shaking fingertips, we both knew what would come next and at the same time, didn’t. I don’t know what she wanted to do next, but the pace we were in wasn’t so bad, moving a little fast, but otherwise just evidence of our youth. Impatient yes, with her tongue pushing at my lips, my hands occupied with her neck and her pussy, fingering away until she just broke. 

“I want to ride you already.”

I almost swallowed my tongue. I didn’t know if I nodded or not, but I did meet Xinyu with a peck on the lips, and like ink on a signature, it was automatic.

She got off, fingers on both my underwear and pajamas as she pulled it off. My cock sprang out followed a weak giggle from Xinyu as she pulled my clothes off my foot, throwing them over her pile. I wasn’t paying enough attention, absent-minded from the ruffling of the sheets, and never noticed hers join them too. 

Hands on my shoulders, Xinyu—more like Chang’e—hovered over me, fully naked.

I swallowed, I could hear her huff and ask, “Been a while?” 

“A while.” I nodded slightly.

It was both running in our heads. We were printing the same telex message among ourselves in our twenty-three year old heads. Reading along the lines of relax, relax, relax—you’re young, it’s just casual—was it? 

Placing her hands on my shoulder, Xinyu met me with a kiss, only noticing her warmth around my shaft as she began to stroke it. Pushing her tongue onto my lips as her long fingers tugged at my twitching cock, was she going to push herself down this soon? I had my answer as she gestured at me to open my legs, I complied with what she wanted. Holding out breaths as she stared me down, giving me a peck on my lips as if to distract me from her descent. It was hot. Both of us flinched as I penetrated her, a drawn-out exhale coming from her that slowly pitched up into a moan when it got past the tip. Our heads filled with warm, unadulterated sexual embrace as our hands searched for something to hold on to.

I had to control myself. It’s been far too long, and this wasn’t me doing it solo anymore. This was Xinyu on top of me. I don’t know for sure, but with how her face was contorted in a manner no pocketbook smut or porno magazine could capture. A slight tremor in her grip, on my thigh and then on my shoulder, and for the first time, she opened her eyes to look at me. She didn’t need to talk.

Having set herself down, she slowly began to move. Closing her eyes again and letting her carnal instinct take over for her as her hips began to roll. Up and down, up and down, she went. I was twitching because she was just that tight. Now, what the hell was I supposed to do to not finish early? Recite the hóng bǎoshū? Perhaps. I began to lay kisses on her collarbone, slowly tracing down to the top of her tits, she moaned and clutched at my nape, feeling her gaze down at me as she finally broke the silence.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

Perhaps it was the other way around—she felt better. It was a boyhood dream come true. Zhou Xinyu, for all her height, had her legs open and sitting on my cock, her pinkish folds enveloping it with her top half in my embrace for my lips to kiss. I could feel the goddess that she was beginning to turn hot as moans began in crescendo, although to my dismay, sitting straight meant her red lips were quite far yet I could sense she looked on approvingly.

Taking my lips off her chest for a second, I met her gaze. Xinyu was drunk with how good it felt, her hands having not changed places since she had sat down, clearly enjoying herself for only I to witness. Stopping just for a bit to kiss me deeply before she continued riding. In just a while, she had a constant, labored breath between moans, both of us sometimes sharing a smile, then a kiss, amidst the pleasure as we tried to keep ourselves quiet. Though keeping hush was difficult when it struck her spot just right, her eyebrows furrowed as an instinctive moan left her. She stopped for a bit.

“I don’t think I’ve gotten this close this quick before,” Xinyu sighed, then chuckled as she blurted, “Your size does help.” 

I just rolled my eyes. Here comes the ego fuel, I thought. Though she caught on quickly to my disbelief, “A lot more than I expected.” 

She must’ve thought feigning underestimation might do the trick. I would’ve said the same thing about her, yet found my stream of consciousness slipping as she proved me right anyway. I needed a second to appreciate the sight; her pretty face contorted in pleasure, small tits, flat tummy, hips moving, rolling. Pacing herself almost at a shallow hop, riding halfway up, followed by the faint sound of a squelching beginning every time she put her weight down.

Though, by this point, my legs were just about to betray me, having folded slightly upward for a while to cradle a tall woman slamming down on them was taking its toll. I wasn’t going to interrupt Xinyu now, not so close, but I was inviting a broken arrow and a cramped leg if I didn’t. So I moved us to the edge of the bed, with my feet flat on the floor—and a sigh of relief from me—with our top halves pretty much in the same manner. Though now there was the bonus of being able to lean forward so I can finally suck on her nipples, it did take some adjusting, and even more when I noticed I was already straining.

Xinyu groaned with how deep I was. Essentially cradled in my grip, hand on her hip and arm up her back as she inched herself closer to an orgasm. It was just a slight lean but it took every ounce of effort for me to not cum then and there. The whole image of us fucking and the feel of her on me. When she would stop to catch her breath and kiss, she was messy but beautiful, even more so now. I was minding her wetness as it trickled down my balls. Suddenly, her grip tightened as she switched her pace up, biting her lip as she squealed, looking up to see her head thrown back while she shook some. Grabbing her ass while her legs squeezed at my sides, with her squeal rolling into a moan, then tired huffs. I thought she’d take longer. Did she just cum? 

“You came?” I asked. Xinyu nodded

“You’re not tired yet?” 

She couldn’t lie with her huffing and nodded. 

We switched. For the first time since we started, I could see the slight sheen of sweat all over Xinyu in the few seconds she stood and threw herself to the bed. I suppose this was a better method of keeping ourselves warm. Now it was my turn to stand up and kneel on the bed, greeted with a sight as she lay down with her legs open for me. I was a curious kid, touching her with my fingers again like earlier. She was warm, very warm, one finger in, hypnotized until I thought, “I should put my cock in.”

Placing my hands on her hips, I slightly lifted her. It caught her somewhat off guard, eyes locked as her expression shifted, mouth hung open, annoyed, then pleasured. I slid back, her eyes looking upward, then rolling them back as I arched her back. She shut her eyes and craned her neck as I thrust a second time, deeper, trying and failing to catch her moaning. Repeatedly, I gave it to her that way, appreciating how easy it was for me to slide so deep in such a tight hole. Her hands moved quite a bit, though she settled on tradition, hands low on my waist while I kept a grip on her. Though for a few times, she had an arm holding onto the covers behind her, or looking at how I was fucking her, moaning at almost every thrust. Xinyu was a singer, yes, a trained one at that, and she sang the loudest when my entire length was in. I tried to keep a neutral expression, thinking “Don’t finish early”—it was all about Xinyu—and she wasn’t even asking me to go any faster. 

She did, however, always requested “harder” right before letting out a hushed long moan and rattling under me. Meanwhile, I was mentally reciting Party passages to distract myself a bit from hearing her slosh and contract under me, her medium-length hair already a mess from moving around quite a bit. I was getting close right then, yet talk about living out fantasies. 

Yet, by that point, I could feel my knees beginning to get sore from kneeling for, how long has it been, two, three minutes? It felt like forever. Xinyu then pressed her hand on my stomach. All stop, aye, ma’am.

“Have you cum already?” she asked. I shook my head, tired, to which she ordered, “Sit down.”

I thanked my lucky stars that I felt like masturbating before I showered, so, how’s that for a foresight? I thought, but I smirked, and so did she as we switched, though now I leaned a bit so her face was closer, and kissed me just before sliding me back inside. That was more like it.

Now, everything about Xinyu was long, her arms embraced me as she began to ride. Though in honesty, it felt more like a pummeling. She knew I was close, so she kissed harder, tongues out in a frenzy. Yet when she wasn’t, she whispered all sorts of good things between her noise. Less than a minute now, we guessed as I began to twitch, no amount of recitation of everything I remembered was going to save me now, nor was my earlier delay, that trick was about to run its course. 

Hearing her goad me with my eyes as she stared into me, together with the warmth of her lips, and of course the intimacy of us. This was her consummation, and the only thing left was carnality. 

“You’re close?” Xinyu asked. I couldn’t say anything. I was just nodding now. 

“Me too,” she huffed. Giving me that non-verbal look, a slightly raised eyebrow. It was a question, I let out a sly smile, and so did she. I would let her overrun me. We kissed, deeply, not nervously like a while ago. It was a consenting kiss—we were gonna cum together.

Hand up her back, I slid it down her hip as her movements became more controlled now, if not a bit faster, but still amateur. She was much closer than I thought, her moans were beginning to betray her as well. Our expressions were shared now, as we had let go of pretense, I had given her part of the fun but knew that this was the orgasm we were waiting for. 

Xinyu’s arms held me closer, I saw her move her mouth just before putting her lips on mine, I couldn’t tell what she was trying to say. The moment I pulled back, she had her eyes closed, only opening for a second before continuing, moaning even when our lips and tongues were together. She was louder now, her arm and pussy's embrace on my shaft grew tighter, shuddering as I tried to hold on to something. Then, her right arm flew to my thigh, breaking away as she let out a long, low moan as her orgasm came onto her. She shook—and I blew—with my lips barely able to get on her neck as I felt the first twitches unload. It was intense, hot, painting her walls with my cum. I shut my eyes and felt my strength drain into her, our fingers clawing, my legs pushing her to me as I came down from myself. 

We held each other as we caught our breath, now we were tired. A long kiss goodnight followed, and she assured me she was going to be okay. 

Once again, it was a blur after that. We cleaned up after ourselves, repeating our procedures, and not feeling like changing the sheets, just decided to crash on the bed again. Though now the same bed was stained with a young couple’s juices, much to the truth of the madamé at the front desk. I thought about grabbing some food from whatever we had left in a futile bid to get our energy back. It wasn't until Xinyu, leaning on my shoulder, dropped her book in my lap that we decided it was lights out. I shut the stove door to at least plunge the room into some semblance of darkness and came beside Xinyu.

She, after confusing me for a bit, grabbed my right arm and pulled me into a cuddle. I was quite shocked, but a kiss on the back of her head was all I could do. I was sleepy, too lazy to talk by then. 

Xinyu then asked. 

“Want to go eat together next week? Oh, and,” she pulled my arm just a bit closer, “You’re not going to tell anybody, right?”

“You know,” another kiss on her hair, pulling her closer, “They’ll know, sooner or later,” I replied.

“Good. Better you than somebody new.”

[thesoftboiledegg]

The writers' choice to stray away from B-plots in recent seasons has been controversial. Some people have criticized this decision because it means we spend less time with the other characters. Personally, I've enjoyed it because it gives us more time to focus on the main story--and man, as far as B-plots go, I REALLY wish this episode didn't have one.

The Earth World subplot was creative enough, and I'll admit that it was nice to see the whole Smith family in an episode for a change. But every time the story veered away from the Beths, I couldn't wait to return to their adventures. We've only got 20 minutes to spare, and their story is so much more interesting than a goofy subplot that doesn't reveal anything new about the characters.

Well, maybe it revealed a little about Morty. "I'm not gonna shit on it too hard because I know you'd punish me." Ouch. No matter how much Rick changes, the memory of his past abuse still lingers.

And the Beths have a lot of complicated memories, too. "The CuRicksous Case of Bethjamin Button" is a solid episode, but I wish we had time to really dive into their sadness, grief, frustration and contradictory feelings toward their father and each other. Without it, the happier scenes at the end don't completely feel "earned."

In any case, I hope this is the start of something bigger. This show has underutilized Beth for far too long.

I was glad to see two women credited as the head writers for this episode (Heather Anne Campbell and Jess Lacher) because they'd truly understand the weirdness of girlhood. As a former weird girl myself, this episode nailed it. Little girls are loud, rowdy, creative, daring and ambitious, but despite it all, we crave our parents' love and approval.

Beth, of course, is a little rowdier than most girls. I wish we'd learned more about her childhood because it's still fairly muddy. She's violent like her father, but the show keeps implying that he was kinder when he was younger, so was Beth just vicious on her own? Or are we getting the wrong impression about Rick? Or did something else happen? It's still a mystery.

Beth and Space Beth's dynamic is intriguing because they respect and care for each other, but they also see each other's worst traits in themselves, so they often end up at each other's throats. Still, they always end up reconciling because nobody understands them as well as they do. They have such different lives, and yet they ended up in the exact same mental state.

At the start, it was nice to see them acknowledge that they can't keep blaming Rick for everything. He fucked up, but they're adults who make their own decisions--well, until they get into the de-aging machine, I guess. After Rick happily lived as a child in "Cryo Mort a Rickver," we've had two episodes in a row about age regression. Don't let Rick de-age himself, because he might not want to change back.

When the Beths started raising hell in a seemingly aimless A-plot and the B-plot kept Rick away from the house, I figured we'd miss our chance to see Rick interact with his little girl. But nope, the writers had a pleasant surprise in store: Rick leaving the trip early to confront his daughters alone.

That decision resulted in some juicy character scenes. The Beths take advantage of Rick's genuine fatherly concern to trap him in the machine and turn him into a 360-year-old geezer, then proceed to kick his ass. Inevitably, their glee melts into tears. And finally, the show addresses something that's driven me crazy for ages: Rick tells the Beths that he never left them.

I've always hated how Rick apparently told them off-screen, and it didn't seem to affect the way the family treated him. The Smiths insulted him for YEARS, thinking he abandoned his daughter, and we just...never find out how they reacted to the truth? This episode doesn't totally rectify that, but at least we see Beth admit that she needs to blame somebody, and he's the only Rick available.

Beth tries to protect herself with an icy exterior, but in the end, she's just a lonely little girl who wants her father's love. Her biological father is gone, but after all these years, the Rick who stayed is finally ready to give it to her.

I would've preferred this episode without a B-plot, but I'll admit that Summer and Jerry loudly ruining Rick's moment with the Beths was hilarious. This is still the Sanchez/Smith family, after all. They might be changing, but they're always up for wacky sci-fi hijinks--and poor Gene keeps getting caught in the way.

[formulafanfics13]

Lestappen and fucking without thinking you can hear them, but you can and ask them to be quiet but then they ask you to join?

Thin Walls, Bad Intentions - MV1 & CL16🔥

masterlist

Summary The reader, staying in Charles Leclerc’s Monaco hotel suite with friends, accidentally overhears loud, filthy sex next door — only to realise it’s Charles and Max Verstappen. Frustrated and flustered, she knocks on their door to complain… and gets invited in. What follows is a feral, three-way scene full of teasing, dominance, and relentless pleasure. Charles and Max take turns wrecking her, praising her, and making her watch herself fall apart. It’s intense, possessive, filthy — and everything she didn’t know she needed.

Warnings explicit threesome (Max/Charles/reader), voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, mirror sex, dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, rough sex, overstimulation, praise/degradation mix, teasing, exhibitionism, light breathlessness/crying, consensual power play, very soft humiliation kink.

You weren’t trying to eavesdrop. Not really. It was just that the hotel suite wasn’t soundproof. And you happened to be in the room next door. And they were fucking like they wanted the whole of Monaco to hear.

Loud. Shameless. Full of rough French curses and guttural Dutch groans. The first time you heard it, you thought it was porn. Until you recognised the voices. Charles and Max.

It didn’t take long to figure it out. You’d been crashing in this Monaco suite all weekend, a few close friends of Charles, leftover from some drunken boat party, sharing space and pretending it was all chill. Except nothing about the moans coming through the thin walls was chill. Especially not when you realised that was Charles whispering, putain, plus fort, and Max grunting like he was splitting him open.

You lay there. Blanketed in heat. Pretending to read. Pretending not to hear every slap of skin on skin. Every breathless whine. Every fucking bed creak. They didn’t stop. Not even when you got up and turned the fan on. Not when you pulled a pillow over your face. Eventually, you cracked.

You padded across the marble tiles in nothing but a giant t-shirt, bare legs, flushed skin, and banged on their door. It swung open quicker than you expected.

Max, shirtless, pupils blown wide. Charles behind him, skin flushed, mouth pink and kiss-bitten. Both of them looking like sin.

“Can you-” you started, flustered, “be a little quieter?”

Max blinked. Then grinned. “Were we loud?”

Charles snorted from behind him. “Monaco’s not that big.”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear unbothered, but they saw right through it. You could feel the heat behind your eyes, the ache between your legs. They could see it too. “You could’ve just joined,” Max said bluntly. “No need to suffer.”

Your heart stuttered. “Excuse me?”

Charles tilted his head, stepping closer, cocky in that way only he could be. “Unless you didn’t like what you heard.” You hesitated. And that was enough. Max’s hand found your wrist. His palm was warm, rough. “Come on then,” he said, tugging you gently. “Don’t be shy.”

Your breath caught. “You’re serious?”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” Charles murmured from behind him, pulling the door wider. “Or do you want to stand in the hallway and listen some more?”

You didn’t even think. You stepped inside. And the door shut behind you. It was like stepping into a sauna of heat and sex and sweat. The sheets were a mess. Clothes scattered. Condoms torn from wrappers on the nightstand. Charles was already leaning back against the pillows, legs wide, cock still hard and flushed. Max stood beside him, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“What now?” you asked, voice barely audible.

Max stepped behind you, fingers brushing up your thighs, dragging the oversized t-shirt up until your skin prickled. “Now,” he said, voice low and deliberate, “we take turns ruining you.”

Charles smirked. “Welcome to the real Monaco.”

You weren’t sure who kissed you first. It might’ve been Charles. His mouth tasted like champagne and something saltier, something that made your stomach turn to fire. It might’ve been Max. Hands everywhere, body hot, mouth hungrier than you thought anyone could be. It didn’t really matter. Not when they had you backed against the door of the suite, your shirt halfway off, your tits already in Charles’ hands, and Max mouthing at the soft slope of your throat like he’d starve if he didn’t get a taste.

“You’re so fucking warm,” Charles muttered, dragging his thumbs across your nipples like he’d never touched skin before. “Could’ve just come to us earlier. You didn’t need to hide.”

“She liked listening,” Max murmured, pulling the hem of your shirt all the way off. “Look at her. She wanted to.”

Your cheeks burned, but neither of them gave you a second to think, to deny it, to even breathe. Max’s mouth replaced Charles’ hands. His lips closed around your nipple, tongue flicking, sucking, moaning low in his throat like it was his pleasure, not yours.

Charles was behind you now, his fingers slipping between your thighs. “You’re soaked,” he whispered into your ear. “You’ve been like this all night, haven’t you?”

You nodded helplessly, and Max groaned against your chest, the vibration making your knees nearly buckle.

“Bed,” Charles said, voice rougher now, lower. “Lay back.”

You stumbled to the mattress, limbs shaking, nerves tight and wired. Charles followed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, your throat, your cheek. Max crawled beside you, hands trailing, eyes dark.

You felt like prey. But you’d never wanted to be hunted more in your fucking life. Charles hooked his fingers into your underwear. “Let’s see who can make her scream louder.”

“Challenge accepted,” Max smirked.

Your brain barely processed the next ten minutes. Your underwear was gone. Charles was between your thighs, tongue slow and deep, fingers curling inside you like he’d memorised you years ago. Max fed you kisses, fed you his mouth, his fingers, held your jaw so you couldn’t look anywhere but at him while his best friend wrecked you from below.

“You’re so fucking good,” Max whispered. “You taste good, you sound good. Look at you.”

Your body was already on the edge when Charles pulled away.

“Switch,” he said, mouth glistening.

Max wasted no time. His mouth replaced Charles’, and fuck, he was greedy. Fast. Filthy. He groaned like he needed it, nose pressed against your clit, tongue flattening, licking through every mess Charles had made.

“Fuck, Max-” you gasped, legs shaking, hips grinding against his face.

Charles was at your side, sucking marks into your neck. “Gonna come already?”

“Please-fuck-yes-” And you did. Hard. Body arched, voice raw, thighs trembling against Max’s head as he worked you through it, moaning like he couldn’t get enough.

You were still coming down when they flipped you. Charles was behind you now, spooned tight, one arm wrapped under your body, pinning you in place.

“You ever been fucked while you watch yourself come?” he whispered.

You blinked, dazed. “What?”

Max was already tugging you toward the floor-length mirror opposite the bed.

“Oh,” you breathed.

Charles positioned you both on the edge of the mattress. Max stood behind you, fully naked, hard cock in his hand, eyes fucking wild. “Keep your eyes open,” he said, lining himself up. “I want you to watch.”

He slid in with one long, slow thrust. You nearly sobbed. “Fucking perfect,” Max moaned, burying himself to the hilt. “So fucking tight.”

You reached for Charles. He held you, hands on your hips, lips against your neck, grounding you.

“Look at you,” Charles whispered. “So fucking pretty like this. Getting fucked stupid.”

Max thrust deeper. Harder. The mirror showed all of it, your flushed face, your mouth open, your tits bouncing with every thrust. Charles’ arms around you. Max, relentless behind you.

“You see yourself?” Max panted. “You see how pretty you look getting fucked by me?”

You nodded, tears stinging your lashes.

“Say it.”

“I-fuck-Max-”

“Say it.”

“I look-fuck-I look so good for you.”

“That’s it,” Max groaned, slamming into you. “So fucking proud of you.”

You came again. Screaming. Charles held your hips steady while Max fucked you through it, jaw tight, hands bruising your skin in the best way.

And when Max finally pulled out, panting, voice ragged, Charles took his place.

“Still not done,” Charles whispered, cock pressed against your oversensitive pussy. “You want more?”

You couldn’t even answer. You just nodded. He laughed softly. “Good girl.” And fucked you like you were made for him.

[conelluwrites]

I Can Breathe Your Nicotine

AO3 link Words: 3.1k Warnings: raw sex (ofc), blood mentions, general misogynistic terms, slight canon divergence (sorry Mr. Coin, the cuck chair is for Thanos only) Other: @sombrashe took a little longer than I wanted to get this out haha, but it's the hide and seek fucking fic. Nam-gyu kinda giving Gi-hun staring vibes idk lol. Since the rest of my Nam-gyu fics I have in mind has reader as a member of Thanos Team, I wanted to try something different for this but it made it so damn difficult. I also ended up getting too far in my head about this unfortunately, but I'm proud of it! I wanted to make the smut longer but I couldn't figure out how to do it without involving other people 💀. I used italics through the fic but when I tried to post it, it kept giving me an error until I made it normal lol

Blue.

She got a blue ball. She glances behind her, feeling his eyes on her for the tenth time since the day began. Of course he pulls his attention away from her before they can meet eyes. It sends a chill up her spine, especially as he holds a red ball. Is it better or worse if they aren’t on the same team? She turns back and nods to the guards behind the gumball machine and walks over the side of the room that houses the rest of her team.

She can’t even listen to the disgruntled blue team players when it’s revealed the red team will have knives while all they have is that fucking key. The fucking key that looks like something out of a damn magical girl anime or something. It’s obscenely childish, though the aesthetic is something she had come to expect from the games. Her ears are ringing as she pulls the key from the box. She gives a look to the end of the key itself, a triangle. She swallows hard, looking around the rest of the team that’s utterly quiet as their fates dawn on them.

That damn stare again, she tries to ignore it but it’s hard when she’s alone against the wall. She doesn’t want to be on the blue team, waiting out the timer- she already accepted the fact that she wouldn’t find an exit- seems like a death sentence. But she doesn’t think she has it in her to stab someone to death. Thinking of feeling the sharp blade cut through skin and fat at least once, but more than likely multiple times, makes her stomach churn.

The stare snaps away from her, she can feel the second it’s directed at someone else and that’s when her eyes dart up to see the man. She’s not sure of his name- she thinks she heard that one loudmouth player call him something ending in -su or something- but he seems to be accosting someone she’s seen him interact with before. When he suddenly stands and says something about Min-su, her gaze goes back down to the key she’s holding. It’s warmed from her hands and feels foreign, but she can’t bring herself to just slide it over her neck and leave it at that. A triangle lock…

When the blue team is ushered into the game room, she stands on slightly trembling legs and takes slow steps to the rest of the blue vests. His stare is obvious on her and she looks behind her for a moment, her eyes meeting his for one of the first times. He stands up straighter, giving her a nod and then holding up his knife. It’s styled similar to the keys and she blinks, turning back to look at the backs of the other players in front of her before the heavy doors close behind her. She slips the necklace around her neck and looks around. Gray walls, a starry ceiling, multiple hallways.

The room smells so fucking rancid as the small crowd of blue vests look around the painting starry scape. By this point, everyone reeks of sweat due to the lack of showers and soap- the players can only wash off so much blood and sweat with plain water from the sinks. There’s no real time to think about the lack of hygiene that ties them all together, the blue vests have a goal in mind: hide, survive, find an exit.

Hide…

Survive…

Find an exit…

She clutches her vest tightly, looking around desperately. She knows she needs to move, needs to go anywhere, hide anywhere, but it feels like her legs just won’t cooperate. She knows she’s caught his eye. She doesn’t know what the fuck she did to deserve his attention, but she could feel his eyes like on her backside, following her every movement through the dormitory before they were brought to the game rooms. The lecherous stare seemed ever present, even in the starry expanse that he can’t yet see into. She shakes her head, glancing behind her at the closed doors before focusing her sights ahead of her.

“I gotta start moving,” she says under her breath, picking one of the numerous hallways and going for it. Staying still is suffering, staying put is suffering. Her heart is racing like a damn horse as she turns corners, clutching her key tightly in her trembling hands. Everything looks the exact same, all the doors look the same, what the fuck… She pants, her hands getting so clammy that the key practically falls back to her chest from her grasp. Her main goal is to get as far away from the beginning doors as possible, but it's hard telling just how close she is to them as she goes treks through seemingly unending hallways and doors.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her heart drops when the speakers alert to the fact that the red vests can now hunt them down. She feels sweat bead on her forehead as she tries a door. It’s locked, she tries her key, but to no avail. She looks behind her, there’s no one in her immediate area so she gives herself a second to breathe before darting off in the direction she came from. It’s a stupid idea, but she doesn’t go further. She’s reached the limit of what the path she was taking led her to.

She grunts, falling to the ground. She’s slightly disoriented as she takes in the fact she ran into another blue vest. She can hear him shouting at her, but it doesn’t process in her head as she scrambles to her feet and shoves past him to go wherever she’s headed. She doesn’t have time to think, doesn’t have time to dwell on apologizing, doesn’t have time-

Fuck, she spots him. He’s with that one guy, the one who ran a youtube channel or something- she can’t remember what his name is from the first day. They both have blood splattered on them and she takes off back in the direction she came from again. She doesn’t move fast enough, she can hear him babble something incomprehensible about the fact he saw a blue vest to her as she takes off frantically.

Door, door, door- fuck she needs to find some door and enter the room and hide. She needs to. With the way she can hear their footsteps catching up with her, she doesn’t have much time. Walls all blend together, the ceiling blurs above her head, she can’t think of anything other than her own survival. When she finally finds a door that she can open with her trembling hands, she ducks into it. She sits against the door, gasping for air while looking at her hands. They’re trembling so hard, it’s driving her crazy until she clenches them into fists. The footsteps… They’re close, so close… She puts a trembling hand over her mouth to stop any noise from leaving her as she closes her eyes. She can hear the pair talking, their voices muffled by the door but as they get closer she can hear them clearer and clearer.

“Myung-gi, no! Bro, I’m telling you I know she came this way!”

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this one.”

“You wouldn’t get it, just trust me on this. She’s worth it.”

“Whatever.”

She can hear the exasperation in the man’s voice, probably fed up with putting up with the pill popper’s antics.

“Look, my brother, if you don’t trust me then just wait on me, yeah? I got a good idea where this lil bitch is hiding.”

She jumps when he knocks on the door she’s sitting against, tears budding up in her eyes.

“I gotta find Jun-hee, I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

A… giggle? escapes his throat. She can practically see him twirling the knife in his fingers as he nods along with the disgraced youtuber’s words. She can practically feel the mirth radiating from him through the door.

“You find that cunt, I’ll find mine.”

She hears one one of their footsteps walk away before the door is knocked on again.

“You in there, little pig? Gonna let the big bad wolf in, hm?”

Another laugh before he kicks at the door, making her move away from it instinctively.

“I promise I won’t let you suffer much, little pig. See, I’ve taken a big ol’ liking to you. It would be such a damn shame if you made me hurt you.”

She crawls over to the corner of the room, trying to shrink herself away from his taunting words.

“I know you know it, dontcha? You know I stare at you, you know I can’t help but wanna be near you, huh? I’m not asking for anything serious, just let me in and we’ll both get somethin’ from this lil get together. Let me in, please?” When she’s quiet, she can hear him grunt before he slams the door open and closes it behind him with a slam. He doesn’t care about the noise, not when he’s a red vest and so well adept with using a knife if one of those pussy blue vests comes into the room to interrupt his alone time with his sweetest little bitch. His eyes land on her immediately and a sickeningly sweet grin overtakes his face. “Well, there you are, my little pig! Thought I was wrong for a second, but I knew I could smell you in here. Such a sweet lil thing, but why wouldn’t ya just speak up, hm? Are you scared?” He flips the knife back and forth in his hands, humming as he gets closer to her trembling form. “You should be, you know. Should be real damn scared of me.”

“Please.” She stammers out, barely able to get the singular word out. She knows it’s pathetic and the way his grin practically splits his face in half before he lets out a boisterous laugh.

“Please? Please what, hm? Please cut your suffering short and end you here?” He kneels next to her as if proposing. Her eyes dart all over his face and arms, blood coating his skin, green track jacket, and even staining the red vest darker.

She chokes out another weak please, shaking her head and holding her hands up. Her heart stops when she feels his cold hand touch hers, his fingers spreading against the palm before sliding between the gaps of her own fingers and then holding her hand. She stares at him, her lips parted in harsh breaths as she stares at his blood stained hand on her own. He seems utterly zoned out for a second, taking in every single microexpression that passes over her face.

“Huh…” He says, clearly amused as he nods to himself before trailing his knife against her leg. It gets stuck on the track pants, making him a bit aggravated but he doesn’t let it deter him. “Hold my hand, yeah? Gotta make sure I don’t lose you too.”

‘Lose you too’?

She doesn’t have much time to think over his words before he repeats himself with a harsher tone. She nods and holds his hand. Her hand is still trembling as she nods again, taking in the new sensation of her hand in his. He doesn’t say much of anything, muttering beneath his breath about something she can’t quite catch before he pulls the knife away from her leg and then taps it gently against her cheek. It’s not hard enough to cause any scratches, just enough to remind her that he could definitely hurt her if he wanted to- if he needed to. “…-gyu.”

“Huh?”

“My name’s Nam-gyu.”

“Oh.”

“Not Nam-su.”

Good to know, she supposes. She shares her own name, repeating it when he stares blankly at her. She doesn’t get a verbal response, just a little nod.

He repeats her name after a moment as if feeling it out on his lips before leaning in to brush his nose against her. She grimaces at the feeling of the sticky blood on his face against her own clean- er, as clean as it could be- nose. He pulls away shortly after, then crashes their lips together. It’s borderline painful and uncomfortable before he eases up when she doesn’t push him away or pull away.

A chance to forget it all, a chance to get away from the stress of the game, that’s what he’s offering and she knows it’s stupid as hell, but she’s almost willing to give in to it.

“What about other people?” She mumbles against his lips, her free hand on his knee as he keeps her close.

“Fuck ‘em, I’ll gut them like the rotten fish they are before they could hurt either of us.” He groans, his free hand that’s not holding onto her hand cups the back of her head. “Don’t worry about none of that bullshit, I gotcha.”

That’s good enough for her, after all with him on her side, she doesn’t have to worry about being stabbed- at least not by another red vest at least. She slowly starts to move her lips against his, her eyes clenched tight, the hand on his knee moves up to curl her fingers into his greasy hair.

The kiss quickly evolves into a heavy make out, tongue moving together and slanted mouths, hair tugging and as their hands that were intertwined separate they begin to touch each other. Clumsy, sweaty hands grope and palm each other as the sound of their breathing and kissing fills up the empty area around them.

“Just get on your back already.” He grunts, pushing her away from him. She scrambles to comply, eyes darting up to the timer to make sure they have enough time to fuck. She doesn’t think either of them will last long, not with the way he’s tugging at the waistband of her pants and not even caring to push her shirt, vest, or jacket up as he yanks her pants down. He shoves his own pants down to his knees before his rough hands separate her legs with little care. “Shit, this all for me?” He asks, looking down on her prone form.

“Yeah- yeah, fuck, it’s all for you.”

He can’t withhold a moan at that, the fact that this bitch is so needy for him that she’s willing to get fucked during a game is enough to drive him wild. “Yeah it is, all for me. All for Nam-gyu.” He pushes his boxers down, giving his hardening cock a few strokes before spitting down onto his aching dick. He hisses at the feeling as he spreads the spit up and down his shaft. His eyes are glued onto her panty clad cunt, imagining all the sweet, nasty things he wants to do to it. He looks over at the clock, groaning in exasperation. He wants to taste her, feel her gummy walls clench eagerly around his thrusting fingers, but there’s no time for all of that. No time for him to take his sweet time with her, make her squirm and beg for his cock. Oh well, there’s always next time they’re able to be alone. “Tug ‘em to the side.” He demands, nodding to her cunt.

She doesn’t need to be told twice, her fingers curling into the fabric of her panties and tugging them aside so he can see her sweet, glistening cunt. She bites her bottom lip as the cool air hits her heat, a small noise leaving her. It’s fucking music to his ears, he wants to hear it again but there’s no time for him to draw more noises from her.

“Good girl, real good girl. Just for me, you’re never gonna leave me after this. Not gonna be alone after this one.” He says , stroking himself with one hand while he spreads her folds with his other hand. The sight makes his cock jump and pulse eagerly in his hand, a sharp exhale leaving him as he notches his cock at her entrance.

A whimper.

A whimper leaves him as he sinks into her. It’s utterly endearing, but there’s no time to think about how adorable the fact that someone like him whimpered just from pushing into her heat. She can’t hold her own noises back as he slowly sinks into her until he bottoms out. He doesn’t ask if she’s good, he doesn’t need to when she is looking so prettily up at him. His hips begin to move, his thick cock moving against her g-spot deliciously with every movement.

He starts to move harder, faster. She tries to ignore the sensual noises filling the room, focusing on his face as his eyes bore into hers and his face tenses and relaxes. It doesn’t take long, she knew it wouldn’t, before he’s breathing hard. His hand snakes between their bodies to rub her clit in rhythm with his thrusts that are quickly becoming out of pace. He grunts and groans, barely able to hold himself back as he struggles to keep his eyes open to stare at her underneath him. “Say- say it. Say you want my cum. Say it, bitch.”

“Cum in me, fuck, please? Please, Nam-gyu, fuckin’ fill me up.” She manages to get out before her orgasm bursts over her, her sweet slick coating his shaft and balls and the floor beneath them. “Shit, shit, shit, goddamn, please!”

He gutturally moans, his cock pulsing and throbbing in her slick, tight heat. He’s barely able to hold himself up as his climax explodes, his cum pumping desperately into her pussy. “Take it- fuck- take it all, whore.” He grunts hard, his hips stuttering as he tries to keep thrusting into her to ride out his orgasm. His breath comes out in harsh pants as he rests his head against her, breathing in her air.

The alarm blares out, breaking the silence between the pair and making them both jump. They made it, albeit not in the way either of them thought they would. “I’ll be sure to wring out more pleasure from you later,” he says, pulling out of her and tucking himself back into his boxers and tugging up his pants as he stands up. He doesn’t offer her a hand to help her up or give her so much as another glance as he makes his way to the door. She sits up and pulls her pants back up, grimacing as his cum leaks from her gummy cunt before she follows him on unsteady legs.

[e1e4n0r5]

The Wolf's Bride: Chapter 4

Masterlist, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Fandom: Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing: Ambessa Medarda x Targaryen-coded Princess Reader

Words: 2592

Synopsis: You arrive in Noxus, and a crack appears

Warnings: Forced marriage, allusion to infant loss, mention of fingering (r! receiving), jealous partner

“That was a cold goodbye,” Ambessa remarked, standing beside you in the General’s quarters on board.

You’d stood silently during the journey, arms folded tightly across your chest, jaw clenched, watching out the floor-to-ceiling window as the world went by under you, flying towards your new home.

“How would you know? You don’t speak our ‘flouncy language’,” you snapped back.

“My guards heard your parting remarks to your father. Ending a conversation with a threat typically implies that said conversation didn’t go well.”

You shook your head. “Don’t. Please. Just…Just leave it.”

But Ambessa was nothing if not persistent. “Did you get to see your mother?”

Your heart cracked. “No. No, her doctors said…” your throat burned, and you had to clear it. “Her doctors said she was too distressed, and she needed rest.”

Ambessa made a dismissive noise and moved to pour herself a drink from the crystal decanter on the sideboard. “She was in a rather delicate state.” She regarded you closely, watching your eyes shimmer with unshed tears as you worked your jaw. “She can always visit Noxus in the future with your new brother or sister.”

‘If they both survive,’ you thought to yourself.

You looked up as you bit your lip, trying to force your tears back. “Did you need something, General?”

She hummed, walking behind you to your other side. Toying with you; a cat tormenting a mouse. “I just wanted to talk to you. We haven’t had much time to get to know each other.”

You tried not to scoff. “Well, we have the rest of our lives.”

She gleefully ignored your obvious request to be left alone. “Precisely, so let’s start now. What sort of things do you like to do? How did you occupy your time in your old home?”

The tears finally spilt over, and you quickly and angrily brushed them away. “I’d say a better question would be: what am I allowed to do in Noxus? I can’t imagine Noxians care much for embroidery, or horticulture, or dancing.”

Ambessa’s eyes lit up at that. Not cruelly, but with something worse. Interest. “There you are,” she murmured. “I knew there was a spark in there.”

You swallowed hard. Ambessa stepped closer. The woman never raised her voice. She didn’t need to. Her sheer size and presence, the way she looked at people as if deciding whether to devour or dismiss them, did the work for her.

“Let me be clear, little one,” Ambessa said, her tone calm, like a teacher correcting a student. “You’re no longer a little Princess of Valyria. You belong to me now. Noxus took you. I took you. But that doesn’t mean you have to be miserable.”

You turned back to the window, trying to blink away the hot sting in your eyes. “I don’t want your comfort.”

“No,” Ambessa said, taking another sip. “But I think part of you wants my attention.”

Your shoulders jerked. “You don’t know me.”

“I will,” Ambessa said simply.

“I am nothing but a prize to you,” your voice trembled. “Don’t pretend otherwise.”

She let out a thoughtful hum. “Maybe you were a prize. But you’re in my care now. And I’m curious. I want to see what happens when you stop pretending you’re made of glass.”

Your fingers squeezed your upper arms. “You think I’m pretending?”

“I think you’ve been trained to stand still, to smile. But a woman doesn’t look at me the way you did the night I took your city unless there’s something more under the surface.”

“You’re wrong,” you snapped. “I looked at you with fear.”

Ambessa stepped forward until you were inches apart. “Fear and fascination are cousins, little wife.”

You shook your head, chest tight, emotions clawing up your throat. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” Ambessa tilted her head. “You’d prefer I call you something gentler? A pet name, perhaps?”

“Stop it,” you whispered.

But Ambessa didn’t stop. She brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me,” she said softly, dangerously, “When you were tucked up in bed, in those pretty rooms in Valyria, did you ever imagine what would happen if someone like me came for you?”

The air between them was thick. Too warm. Too close.

“I couldn’t imagine anything worse,” you said through clenched teeth.

Ambessa let out a low chuckle and turned away. “Oh, little one, you’ll come to see that I am not the worst thing that could have happened to you. Far from it. Although, from our time together last night, I think you already know that.”

With ashamed tears in your eyes, you watched her stalk across the room, muscles rippling. You hated how commanding she looked, how casually she took up space. You hated yourself even more for looking.

“We’ll arrive in Noxus this evening. You can either stay out here, sulking by yourself for the next eight hours, or rest inside here. We’ll find some way to pass the time,” Ambessa smirked as she opened the adjoining door to her private chambers. “There’s nothing left for you in Valyria, child; there’s no point looking back.”

The air in Noxus was colder than you expected.

Not in temperature, though the mountain winds certainly cut sharper than the dessert stillness of Valyria, but in mood. In weight. The skies above the stronghold were the colour of stone, and the buildings below forged from the same. Everything was stone and iron, high towers and brutal walls, the world around you humming with martial discipline and the clatter of armoured boots. Even the banners, deep red and black, marked with symbols you didn’t yet know, seemed heavier than cloth should be.

You stood at the edge of the airship’s ramp; your fingers curled tightly around the railing as you looked down at the city sprawling below.

Ambessa stood just in front of you, a silent mountain in her own homeland. The General didn’t speak as she disembarked, only motioned with one gloved hand for you to follow. The same gloved hand you’d let her fuck you with on the ride over, begging and weeping in ecstasy on the bed as you fell apart under her, shame burning in your chest the whole time.

Soldiers flanked you, eyes always forward, but you could feel them watching you nonetheless, sizing you up, measuring your spine.

You kept your head high, even as your stomach twisted.

The stronghold at the heart of the capital was not decorative, not gentle, but vast and dark and unapologetically fortress-like. No ornate pillars. No flowering gardens. Just strength.

Your footsteps echoed through its halls as you were led through corridor after corridor. Everything smelled of cold stone, oil, and the faint scent of metal, like sharpened blades kept too close.

Eventually, you stopped before a tall set of double doors.

“These are your rooms,” Ambessa said, pushing the door open.

The doors creaked on massive hinges, revealing a chamber far larger than you had anticipated. It was austere, like everything else in Noxus, but not unkind. A fire crackled in a broad hearth, warming the stone walls. There were thick covers on the bed, drapes at the tall windows, a polished desk, a large wardrobe already partially stocked with clothing clearly meant to be yours.

Across an entire wall was carved a relief of Noxian history: a battle scene, full of armoured warriors and conquest. Blood frozen in stone.

Ambessa entered behind you, slow and heavy-footed. She watched you take it in.

“Not to your taste?” the General asked, her voice low.

“It’s fine. Thank you,” you said genuinely. You had been expecting her to keep you in her rooms, her new little toy close at hand.

Ambessa moved further into the room. “You have your bathing suite,” she pointed to one door, “And your bedroom.”

You looked around, noting the layout. “And Siya?”

Ambessa was visibly unimpressed. “Your maid has a room, through there,” she pointed to another door to the side.

Suspicious, you walked over to it and inspected the room inside, pleasantly surprised. It was a bedroom, though smaller than the rest of your rooms, but at least it was clean, and had been decorated and furnished appropriately.

“There are guards posted just outside,” she said. “Your movements within the castle are not restricted. But you won’t leave the grounds without my permission and an escort.”

You nodded as you looked at the view across your balcony. That was a fairer arrangement than you’d expected.

Ambessa stepped closer – not to touch, but to loom. “You’ll be expected to learn our customs. Attend court and War Council meetings. Represent our union. You’ll be watched – not just by my people, but by my men.”

Your throat tightened. “What am I expected to be, exactly?”

Ambessa’s eyes flickered, not with surprise, but something sharper. “Mine.”

It wasn’t a romantic word, the way she said it. It was ownership. A claim laid bare.

“You’ll learn what that means,” she added.

You turned your back to her, if only to hide the sudden heat in your face – a mix of shame, anger, and something you didn’t want to name. You walked slowly toward the hearth, arms wrapped around yourself.

“I’d like to be alone,” you said softly, “Until Siya arrives with my belongings.”

Ambessa didn’t answer right away. The silence stretched.

“I’ll return later, little wife.”

Then the sound of boots, heavy against stone, retreating. The door closed behind her.

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. You sank slowly onto the chaise near the fire, your body folding inward. Your room – your gilded cage – flickered with firelight, shadows dancing across the carving of war.

You were alone.

The fire crackled softly in the bath suite’s hearth, casting shimmering gold over the bare stone walls of your new chamber. Outside, the wind moaned through the mountain corridors, but inside the bathing room – warm and dim with rising steam – there was a gentle hush.

You sat sunk to your shoulders in the deep, black marble tub, the water scented with your favourite lavender oil. Ambessa’s attentions on the journey had left you aching, your mind brittle. Here, at least, it was quiet. Here, you could almost forget the weight of her gaze. Almost.

Siya had come to your rooms not long after Ambessa had shown them to you. She unpacked what few belongings you had been allowed to bring: a few dresses and robes; some books; a pendant your mother had given you as a child. Now she knelt behind you, massaging your scalp as she washed your hair, knowing your moods well enough to know when to speak and when to simply be there.

After she bathed you in companionable silence, she held out one of your favourite robes. You stepped into it with a grateful smile, sitting comfortably on the platform surrounding the sunken bath.

With practiced ease, she poured a slow stream of oil into her hands and began to gently smooth it up and down your calves.

You relaxed under her hands, eyes closing, letting out a soft sigh.

Neither of you heard the outer door open.

It wasn’t until the thick wooden door to the bathing suite opened, without a knock, that the mood shifted.

Ambessa stepped inside.

She had discarded her armour, clad in a deep crimson sleeveless tunic and black pants, her long shadow filling the room with immediate weight. Her eyes went straight to you – half-dressed, flushed from the heat of the bathwater, seated with one foot resting on Siya’s knee – and then to Siya, still kneeling at your feet with oil-slicked hands on your skin.

The quiet hum of domesticity cracked.

Siya moved back immediately, bowing her head. “General-”

Ambessa didn’t speak at first. Her gaze lingered too long on your exposed legs, the shine of oil on your skin. She stepped forward slowly, as if challenging something unspoken.

“I’ll do that,” she said firmly, stepping forward and holding her hand out for the bottle.

Siya looked at you questioningly. She didn’t express it openly, but you knew her well enough to know what she was thinking: ‘is this woman serious?’

You nodded back tiredly at her. “It’s fine, Siya; if the General would like to, I’ll allow it.” You were too tired to argue.

Ambessa just chuckled as she took the bottle from Siya’s unimpressed hands when the other woman stepped back. “You’ll allow it, wife?”

“Do I not get to choose who attends me?”

Ambessa didn’t answer you. “You may go,” she ordered Siya.

Your closest – only – friend’s eyes met yours briefly, apologetic, uncertain, then she gave a tight nod and disappeared out into your outer room.

The door shut again.

Silence bloomed in her absence.

You turned toward Ambessa. “She’s only doing her job.”

Ambessa approached with the slow certainty of a lioness closing in on her prize. “Is that what it looked like to you?”

“What does it look like to you?” you snapped, folding your arms over your chest, suddenly conscious of how much skin was on display for her. “She’s my friend, my companion, my maid-of-honour. She’s attended me since we were-”

“She’s not your friend anymore,” Ambessa said flatly. “She’s your maid. My soldier. She does what I allow.”

There was a quiet moment, the kind of quiet that left you feeling more exposed than nudity ever had. Ambessa moved closer and knelt at your feet where Siya had been only moments before.

“You’re mine now,” the General said, voice low and deep, not angry but possessive. “Your skin is mine to touch. Your care is mine to provide.”

Without asking permission, Ambessa took your ankles into her hand, resting your feet on her thighs as you had done with Siya. Her grip was firm but not rough. She poured the remaining oil into her palm and began to massage it into your legs with slow, deliberate movements.

“So, you’re going to do this every night, are you?” you challenged, feeling a humiliated anger at Ambessa’s insinuations, at her insistence on corrupting your only friendship. “You’re going to take the time out of your day – morning and night – to dress and undress me; bathe me; oil me, arrange my hair…?”

“Don’t be bratty, child,” she scolded coldly.

You swallowed hard. “You know I’m right.”

Ambessa’s hands were larger than Siya’s, calloused from years of war, but there was surprising gentleness in her pressure. She worked the oil in with methodical focus, watching the path of her own hands, and the way your breath caught as she moved higher.

“You let her touch you like this?” Ambessa asked quietly.

“It’s not like that,” you insisted, somehow feeling weepy. Perhaps it was just the exhaustion of the past several days catching up to you.

Ambessa looked up at you then, sharp and still. “And what would you have let her do, if I hadn’t come in?”

“Ambessa…” you said tearily, shaking your head. “She’s my friend.”

The silence between you became heavier. Ambessa’s hands moved slowly up your thigh. Keeping her eyes on yours, she slid her hand dangerously close to your core.

“The oil doesn’t go there,” you bit, pushing her hand away, crossing your legs defensively.

She just chuckled. “My apologies, little one.”

You didn’t push back. Not tonight. You let Ambessa oil the rest of your legs in silence, each movement staking another claim.

The room had changed. The balance between you shifted, ever so slightly. And you weren’t sure what it meant.

Chapter 5

Taglist: @sevikas-whore, @djstinkyfartz, @jinririz, @abbyandcaitlover, @ayuxiru, @bebeluvvv, @youdoyou-andiwilldome, @kittymrtnezz69, @wyprettylilone, @jlb20416, @autisticratbagtm, @theoreticalfreak, @riotstemple29, @zaunite-516, @zmbieeee, @godhatesgoodgirls, @yoyo-w, @milanyas, @unknownomgg, @bella-but-not-hadid444, @marvelwomenarehot0, @nenoino, @opalundercover, @beggingonmykneesforher, @qlelwow, @loneliestafterparty, @flowersareup, @niceminipotato, @fruitfulfashion, @dut1fuldyk3

[theotherbuckley]

Maddie knew that there were risks, having another baby at her age. But risks were one thing to consider, yeah it was possible… but you never really expected them to actually happen to you. 

Getting told during her ultrasound that her baby boy would likely have Down syndrome, scared her a lot more than she’d like to admit. She knew she’d love her baby no matter what, but she was not immune to being scared. 

Scared of ruining her child’s life. Scared of running away. Scared of not being good enough for a boy who’d need her most.

Howie was ecstatic to learn he was having a baby boy. It didn’t faze him that his son would probably have Down syndrome. He didn’t care. He was over the moon with joy. 

Maddie wished she could be more like that. But she was worried. Worried that she wasn’t built for this. She wasn’t even there for Jee when she should have been. Still, she tries so hard not to dwell on the past, the what ifs.

When Lee Robert Han is born, she knows she’s fallen in love all over again. He’s smiling even as a newborn, looking up at her with his almond-shaped eyes sparkling. And yeah, she’s in love with her baby. 

She’s scared though, underneath the immense love she feels there’s this nagging voice inside. She’s still so fucking scared because she did this to her baby, and what if she’s not a good enough mom for him?

Everyone tells her how beautiful he is (she knows), and everyone congratulates them, eyes watering over the tribute to Bobby. But nobody really talks about it. Except Buck spewing facts he’d learnt in his latest research binge so that he could ensure he’d be the favourite uncle to the little boy. She’s so grateful for him, but nobody else really acknowledges the implications of the boy’s condition, until…

“Hey,” Eddie says, sitting down beside her bed. 

The two have never been close, which is surprising considering the man is her brother’s best friend, her husband’s colleague, and part of her extended family. Regardless, she’s a little surprised when he stays behind once everyone else has left for the night, and Howie home with Jee. 

“Hi, Eddie,” she replies back a little curiously.

Eddie fidgets beside her, mouth opening and closing like he’s figuring out what to say. She recognises the time to be quiet and waits whilst he gathers himself, finally articulating his thoughts.

“When Christopher was diagnosed with CP I reenlisted for a second tour,” Eddie starts, and Maddie lets out a small involuntary breath as she processes what he’s telling her. 

“I told myself then, that it was to provide for my family. You know, medical bills are expensive. That’s what I said. Shannon was furious. And I told myself I was doing the right thing for them.” Eddie takes a breath and Maddie waits patiently for him to continue, her eyes flickering to her baby laid in the crib beside her.

“I didn’t leave because of the money. We could have figured it out. I left because I was so damn afraid. And I didn’t wanna screw that kid up. Shannon kept telling me that she was sorry and that she didn’t know how to fix it. Like, it was her fault that Chris has CP and that that meant something was wrong with him. For a long time, I let her apologise, because I was scared too. But I regret not being there for her then, not being there for both of them. I wouldn’t change Christopher for the world. And I know that if she were here, she’d feel the same.”

There’s tears falling down Maddie’s cheeks as he speaks. She tells herself it’s the hormones but it’s not. 

“Eddie…”

”At the start, I know she was scared, and I know she blamed herself as though she’d hurt her son. But Christopher is Christopher, and I love him so much.” Eddie looks up at Maddie, staring her in the eyes. “I’m telling you this because I know— I know other people don’t really understand. But listen to me when I say, you didn’t fail your boy. He’s perfect.”

She chokes out an involuntary sob at his words. Melting into his touch when he wraps an arm around her pulling her gently into his side. Offering up a little bit of comfort which she takes eagerly.

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I want to be there for him, for everything, I don’t want to run this time. But— but sometimes I just worry that maybe he’d be better off if I did,” she admits, verbalising her internal thoughts. She was too scared of upsetting Howie, but Eddie— Eddie seems to understand.

Eddie shakes his head. “I can’t go back in time and change how I reacted then. But I can be here now and tell you that we are all here for you. And I know you’re going to raise an amazing boy. Just remember he’s not broken, and you’re not broken. I— I wish Shannon were here because I know that she’d understand, more than I do, but I’m here if you need anything. Okay?”

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“Of course,” he says, standing up. “I’ll let you get some rest.”

She lets him go before scooping her son into her arms. She feels lighter already, even though her worries still plague her. She’s not alone, her family is there and she doesn’t know what she’d do without them.

“I love you,” she whispers to the bundle sleeping against her chest. “I love you.”

For @hiineedholywater who came up with the idea for Lee 💜

@911hiatuspositivity Kid fic

[callsignmagnolia]

Safe Harbor

Synopsis: Naval Aviators need love too. Everyone can learn that, except one.

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader, platonic! Daggers x Reader, no physical descriptions, no use of Y/N, readers call sign is Harbor

Warnings: Jake being a bit of a jerk? none really, just fluff

Word Count: 3.7k

The Hard Deck during Navy Week is overstimulating to say the least. Countless sailors pour in at every entrance, the music is played a few decimals higher, and the rowdiness exponentially increases with each round. In seven days time, Penny makes up for any unpaid bar tabs for the entire year and sets aside enough for a vacation and tuition for Amelia. For the regulars, it’s a time of great joy, for the first few days- tension easies from shoulders, old friends are welcomed, and laughter flows out, mixing with the Pacific breeze. However, by the times day four rolls around, people begin to grow weary, craving the calm ease of their regular place again. 

In the corner booth, the Daggers are sorting out who has more energy. Their little group shows a wide variety of exhaustion with the swarming socialites around them. Rooster hasn’t played piano yet tonight, a demarkation that he was pulling inwards for rest. Phoenix is eyeing the pool table, waiting for a break but not willing to go jockey for a position. Hangman and Coyote on the other hand are as lively as ever, challenging some poor LTJG to a game of darts that she is bound to loose. 

“Maybe we should warn her about how ruthless those two are,” Payback breathes out, taking his seat on the stool at the end of the booth as he hands you whatever fruity miracle Penny was able to concoct in this chaos. 

“She’ll figure it out or embarrasses them herself. I don’t have the wherewithal to care right now,” Phoenix mutters more to the ceiling than to the rest of the table. “Are you going to put all of these data points into your spreadsheet, Harbor?” She glances your way with a side eye and a smirk. 

“Nah. Everything may be data but I see no need to boost their ego anymore than it already is by spending pages on them two alone.” You throw a smile her way, settling your back against the aged, painted wood of the booth. 

Being sent to North Island had radically changed your life. It started as a short six-month study the Navy had ordered to understand the emotional components and needs of their elite pilots. You flew with them on training runs, you stood next to them as they were reprimanded, you held their hand during medical exams if they asked- you had become part of them in a way that broke your heart as your original term came to an end. Earning a permanent contract with the Daggers was a second chance at building an enduring life with purpose, helping people with a mission keep themselves from disappearing into the weight of it all, rather than just bouncing around from grant to contract, trying to care for people as well as you could before you were called elsewhere. 

A warm sensation runs from your shoulder down your spine as a familiar cheek bone rests against your clavicle. A soft mop of well kept brown hair tickles your neck as glasses are pulled off and set on the table in between beer glasses and a basket of fries. Your hand naturally reaches to push a loose stand behind his ear, pressing a lingering touch to his cheek as he sighs against you, letting his eyes flutter shut. 

“So tired,” Bob almost whimpers into your shirt as his breathing shifts to a slower rhythm and his heart beats settles as the noise is tuned out.

“I know, honey. It’s okay, we’ll get Rooster to go pull Bagman off his high horse here soon and we can get you back to the barracks for bed.” you promise him. 

“How come Bob always gets your attention first on Hard Deck nights and the rest of us have to stand in line?” Fanboy huffs trying to shove Phoenix from the prime seat of the booth to no avail. 

“Because he isn’t afraid to have everyone else see him cuddled up against Harbor like some of us who are still working though our fragile masculinity,” Payback almost deadpans to his buddy who looks like he is trying to overcome his fear as he gazes at Bob’s position longingly. You meet his eyes with a soft smile before assuring him that there were head scratches waiting for him when you all got back to post.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hangman grimaces across the room to the scene of his team mates, who are supposedly the world’s best fighter pilots, all melting into the side of a woman who doesn’t even sleep with any of them. Harbor was not Hangman’s favorite, that was no secret. The whole squad knew it and heard the sarcasm that dripped from his words whenever he spoke to her, letting her callsign roll off his tongue with a hint of disdain. 

“Why don’t you just swallow your pride and go ask her for something, man. You might not want to fall asleep on her shoulder like Bob but she’ll sit with you in medical and advocate for you when your head is spinning from a concussion,” Coyote clasps a hand on his shoulder as he hands him another beer. “I gotta tell you- it’s a sweet thing to have someone standing up for you and managing all the paperwork when you can’t even think straight. She even submitted my medical claims to my VA file for when I retire.”  Hangman pauses for a moment, throwing a cocky look to the side as he sends a dart straight to the bullseye behind his back. 

“The day I can’t do that, you can take me to Harbor because I will no longer be a man and will have reverted to my infantile state of needing cuddles.” His eye roll is caught from across the bar as the rest of the Daggers holed up in the booth are making their quiet escape towards the door. Rooster moves you to walk on his opposite side, protecting you from the loathing emitting from the other side of the bar.

“Find your own way home, Hangman. Coyote, move it or loose it,” he hollers as he pushes the double door open for you to walk under his arm, Coyote shrugging and jogging to catch up with the rest. For a moment, Seresin considers that it would be nice to have someone to tell gruff Navy doctors to be gentler. He shakes the thought out of his mind, painting a flashy smile on his face as he walks towards the bar, but the loneliness settles on his chest. 

-

The first six months with the daggers had been strictly business- mostly. They might be phenomenal pilots but you were phenomenal at identifying their needs and articulating that in a way the Navy would be confident investing resources into meeting. You were calculated. Everything was data that could be leveraged. You flew with them and saw what control didn’t sitting in Comanche miles away. You wrote down the twinges, the jumps, the bruises, and handed the detailed list to them all before medical appointments to make sure they were taken care of and everything was documented. You reminded them all how closely mental and physical condition tied into their ability to fly well and to come home. 

While they struggled to trust an outsider, one day stood as the fulcrum between weariness and full embrace. The anniversary of Goose’s death was a silent day of remembrance for the Daggers. Everyone was kinder, flew softer, and stood closer after they made it back safely. No one spoke about it but it was obvious- everything was weightier. Their wingman was mourning his father and fellow aviator. They were faced to deal with the realities of their job- that even training wasn’t safe. You didn’t know what today was as you sat on the tarmac, watching what was supposed to be the last few maneuvers before your contract ended. 

Every movement was textbook. Without flaw. Like the sorrow was making them all fly better to honor the day. You were captivated by the soliloquy being painted before your very eyes. Suddenly, Roosters jet lurched and seemingly began to drop out of the sky. Your feet were under you in a second as you watched- you had no radio to understand truly what was happening- the scene unfolding like the climax of a blockbuster film. From start to finish, the whole ordeal was a total of 23 minutes but it felt like hours gripping your necklace as you watch him skillfully land a smoking plane. 

The runway became a blur of crew as they covered the aircraft in foam, Rooster climbing out as fast as the blood in his eyes would allow. As he stumbled to the ground, you ran to meet him, pressing your hand to the gash on his forehead. Your eyes meet the blown wide brown of his own, whispering quiet nothings as you waited for the medics to arrive. You stayed until they pulled you away from him. You followed him to medical. You sat in a chair in the corner of the room during debriefing. You watch the hollow look settle on him as Phoenix tried to push a plate his way. You had gone before him and set out a towel and fresh civies for him in the locker room. 

They all noticed. They noticed your lack of questions. They noticed the way you didn’t leave ever, even when your work day was done, even to wash off the blood you had accidentally smeared across your neck and shirt. They noticed how you didn’t eat, but sat beside him with a tote bag with snacks for whenever he was ready. They noticed how you read him, how you saw that this was deeper than a training incident to him. You didn’t even know the gravity of the day, yet you were kind and present. 

Rooster had wandered into the briefing room instead of to his bronco to head home after his shower, sat shrouded in darkness, with the glow of his original training run emitting from the projector. You pushed the door open gently, with controlled movements as to not startle him. His face gave him away- he was fighting back tears- as you sat in the chair next to him, pulling your legs up to your chest. Heartbeats and shallow breathes are the only sounds filling the quiet room. Your fingers carefully reach for his own, gingerly lacing your hands into his rough, calloused ones that were aching from the pressure he put on the throttle earlier. He grasped onto your hand like a lifeline, your head coming to rest between his shoulder and jaw. The tears he was holding back fell like rain, splashing onto his lap. You didn’t move until Rooster did, nor did you speak until he did. 

The Daggers however watched carefully from the small window in the door way, entranced by the vulnerability and safety of the moment. Hangman stood at the back of group, gritting his jaw, as jealousy crawled up his throat.

“It’s like she’s a harbor for him. Right there, he is safe from the storms,” Bob whispers without much thought to the profoundness of what he is saying. 

The next morning, her helmet that she always wears is painted with Harbor- her own callsign. Two weeks later, her permanent contract is signed. No one talks about how she got the name, but they all know. Just as no one talks about the paint matching her helmet that dots Payback’s backpack, but they all know.  

-

Habits form slowly but surely. You still keep sections of your notebook reserved for each of the Daggers- things they need, pictures of great moments, their preferences, their allergies. You manage their appointments and documentation. You make them cakes for their birthdays and accompany them to less than desirable meetings. 

They all lean on you in different ways. Rooster asks you to help him find all the Naval documentation on his dad. You compile it into a book as if Nick Bradshaw was the most important figure in history. You hold his hand as he looks through old pictures and let his tears fall into your hair tangled under his jaw. On his parent’s birthdays, you make him their favorite dessert- key lime pie- and he swears his own mother handed you the recipe as a final “I love you” to her little boy. 

Phoenix wants a will. She wants to lay out what she wants to happen to her if she can’t make her own medical decisions. She wants to make sure her nieces are taken care of if Auntie Nat cant be there to protect them. You are the one that takes her to the Jag Officer and helps her walk through it all. On dress blue days, you straighten her ribbons on her uniform and brush her hair before pulling it up into a regulation bun so she can focus on other things clouding her mind. 

Fanboy is the one that just comes out and asks it one day as you sit in the ready room. Barely above a whisper, “Harbor, would you let me sit between your legs and you’d scratch my head like my mom used to?” You smile and grab his hand to settle him on the floor in front of the couch. He almost whimpers as your fingernails lightly scratch along his skull. He anchors himself by planting his hands on your feet. He dazed, but at peace, when he hears Mav call his name across the radio.

Payback wants companionship. You do laundry with him- not for him. You make lunch with him- not for him. A wingman keeps him stable, keeps him moving, and you will do anything he needs, no matter how seemingly common place or boring. Sometimes, when he has run out of chores, he comes and does yours alongside you. Hence the beautiful backyard entertaining space you have- two people happy to laugh together can get a lot done. 

It starts with Coyote’s trip to medical. But what he leaves out when he tells Hangman about it is that you held his hand, letting him cringe as they stuck him over and over again. Jake Seresin has no business in knowing that he does not like needles. You go with him to every appointment, including his terrifying hearing appointment, and kiss his forehead for being brave. He takes you to lunch after every one, always off post, so he can talk about whatever is on his heart. 

Bob is the first one to fall asleep on you. He is gentle and free with his affection, but the Navy offers little expression of that so he takes full advantage of your soft arms and welcoming spirit. He falls asleep on your shoulder, tucks his head in your lap when they are forced to fly Space A somewhere, and crumbles to his knees when you run your hands through his damp hair when he steps out of his jet. 

Everyone leaned on you- except Hangman. He keeps his distance. He makes sure his hand never brushes yours even when handing you a file, as if any contact will burn him to the ground. Never sits close enough to accidentally lean his head against yours. You don’t push. Cockiness and vulnerability rarely go hand in hand. His snarky comments about weak people needing hugs and company roll off your back like a duck in water. Others on the squad aren’t as easily unbothered, and one particular comment led to Payback’s class ring leaving a blooming bruise under Hangman’s eye. 

To no ones surprise, you were the first to get him ice. 

-

A hesitant knock jars your attention from the book in your blanket covered lap. For a second, you don’t bother to move. Three am is the hour of odd noises and no reason to unwrap yourself from the coziest chair in the chilly house. A second knock has you rising with the blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. In hindsight, wearing one of Natasha’s old pt t-shirt and shorts was not the wisest idea during the winter in your drafty cottage but its not like she or Bob or Rooster or whoever is at your door will care- they all will share a blanket in a heartbeat. 

The doorknob turns and your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on Jake. 

Not Hangman. Not Lt Seresin. Just Jake. 

He looks small standing before you, with his hands in his pockets, his eyes rimmed red, and shoulders hunched as if he will be scolded for being here. His pupils trail up to meet yours, his lip quivering. Your heart breaks into pieces watching a scene you never thought you’d see. 

There is no pride, no cockiness, not a hint of a smirk. Not even one comment about the blanket around your shoulders or the fact that you are awake at this house. 

“I-I’m, I-know,” his voice cracks. He rubs his hand over his face and cards through his hair as he shifts his weight from one foot to another. Taking a deep breath to pull his voice together as best he can manage, he continues, “I know I am an asshole. I know I shouldn’t be here but-“ his voice breaks as he looks down at his boots, “I-I just needed to be held, and you do it for them.” His eyes meet yours again as a tear runs down his cheek, “I thought maybe you’d do it for me?” 

You are stunned to see him. Here. Like this. Asking for such forbidden things, well, things he has classified in his own mind as forbidden. In the beginning, you believed he was scared of seeming weak and that was what kept him from ever asking for any help. But as time moved on and he grew colder and colder towards you despite the squad becoming more welcoming and loving, your perception shifted. He must have just loathed you in particular.You had tried to be as kind and open as possible, tried to give him space but tell him he was valued just the same even if he didn’t want any fan fare around it. If anyone else had been in your job, he would have reached out, but it was you that was stopping him. 

You hesitated too long. The smallest ounce of hope that was resting on his chest had been reduced to nothing more than a pile of dust at his feet. New tears are forming as he takes a step back and alarm bells are going off in your brain that you are missing a moment with him.

“I-I’m sorry. I sh-shouldn’t have come here. Good-“ before he could finish his sentence, your hand wraps gently around his wrist. The sensation of soft skin against his own cuts his words off as he focuses on the warmth spread across his arm. 

“Jake,” you whisper, eyes softening as he meets your gaze, “I am glad you’re here.” With a gentle tug, he follows you into the darkness of your living room, illuminated only by the small lamp and candle by your reading chair. His eye wander across the walls and to his surprise, he sees a photo of just him framed next to pictures of everyone else in the squad. He had never given you an honest smile, yet he was on your wall. 

His world collapses as he feels your arms reach up and wrap around his neck, fingers toying with the base of his hair. He instantly melts into your arms, the blanket that covered you dropping to the ground and his tears soaking through your shirt. He is crashing into you like a wave, like a rogue jet. It’s all sorrow and pain pouring out as he sobs into you. Your feet move to balance his body weight on your frame. 

Time passes in a blink. Neither of you is sure of how long you stand there before you speak, “Come on, honey. Let’s go be a bit more comfortable.” He is pulled gently down the hallway until he is ushered in to a bedroom. 

“No no no, thats not what I came here for, I swear,” he is trying to convince you through a tear clouded voice. Standing before you was the most honest he has been with someone, the most vulnerable, in a very long time and he’d be damned if he messed it up now.

“Relax, Jake. It’s okay,” you coo as you gently remove his jacket and push him lightly to sit on the bed. You unlaces his boots, his eyes staying trained on your movements. The blankets are pulled back, the empty side of the bed patted to urge him to join you. He is hesitant, eyes flickering, an internal debate raging. “You asked to be held. It’s the first thing you have asked from me in over a year. Please. Just let me hold you, Jake.” you whisper. 

He folds. Of course he does. His physical body was entranced by the feeling of a hug that wasn’t from a battle buddy or laced with expectation. His body crashes into your arms, head tucked on your chest and legs gently intertwining with yours as you pull the covers up around his shoulder. Your fingers dance along his spine and run through his hair, his breathing slowing against your heartbeat. 

“Is this the part where I have to tell you why I am crying?” his voice muffles against your shirt. 

“Not if you don’t want to, sweet boy” comes the reply, punctuated by a kiss to the forehead and his heart rate evens out. Outside of these walls, he is Hangman- the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air to air kill, cocky ladies man with a killer smile. But here? In your arms? He is just Jake. He is loved. 

He wants to never have to hear it from the squad about this but now that he knows how good this feels, he can never live without it again. As he drifts off to sleep, lulled by your steady breathing, he can’t believe he didn’t take advantage of his safe harbor earlier. 

Thank you for reading! I am so glad you are here! Please reblog and comment- I live for these! Let me know how I can improve!

You are doing an amazing job, sweetheart!

[tomatette]

inspired by this post by @toobusybeingdelulu

Going home

All that was left of Billy's body was a pile of ash in a glorified tin can. Not even because the government hadn’t wanted anyone to mess with his remains. The real reason was actually pretty mundane: cremation was a lot cheaper, and Neil refused to spend anything more than the barest minimum on his failure of a son.

So the urn was lowered into the earth, and a few shovels of dirt later, Hawkins, Indiana, was ready to go back to the daily grind.

Max hated it. She hated it more than anything.

Billy and she ... Look, it had been complicated. They were horrible to each other, and there were days when she had, in fact, wished for him to disappear. To be gone.

But then, when her wish came true, she realized that it wasn’t at all what she wanted. And she wished she could take it all back��to undo all the things that went wrong between them.

Because maybe, just maybe, they could have been real siblings. Real brother and sister.

And even though they never had the chance to come into existence, she mourned them. Mourned the people they could have been.

It was too late now. Repentance was a useless thing. It didn’t help the living, it didn’t bring back the dead. Knowing that didn’t stop her though.

*

Three years later and everyone was moving forward. One after the other, they left Hawkins. Nancy and Jonathan first, then Robin and finally Steve too. Neil only waited for a month after the funeral to get out of Dodge (and good riddance!). Now Max and the party were in their senior year of high school and soon they would all be leaving too.

They would all get out of Hawkins one way or the other. Everyone but Billy. Billy who hated this shitty little town, who’d had plans to get back home to California. Who would have hated the idea of being buried here of all places. It was so utterly unfair, it took Max’s breath away just thinking about it.

*

Neil had sold what was left of the Camaro to the local junkyard. The next day Max went there and pleaded with the owner not to scrap it. Under tears she promised she’d somehow scrape together the money to buy it back. The guy - Gus - took pity on her and helped her fix up the badly beat-up half-burnt car without ever asking even a penny. 

At first Max really had no idea what she was doing. She had just turned fifteen and her only experience with cars was sitting in the back or passenger seat and holding on for dear life while Billy cut the corners like there was no tomorrow. And the camaro was pretty much a wreck. So she just sat down in the corner of the junkyard’s shop and helplessly stared at the car Billy had loved so much.

Gus showed her. The man was a gentle giant. He looked like he could lift a car with one hand, but he never raised his voice. Not even when she dropped a wrench on his foot.

It took a while, but she got better at it. She spent a lot of time on the junkyard. So much so that the guys started complaining because she wouldn’t hang out with them anymore. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t. To them Billy was just the jerk who had beat Steve, threatened Lucas and treated all of them - Max included - like shit. And he was. But he also was so much more than that. And he couldn’t really blame the guys for not seeing what she saw. For not knowing what she knew. But a small part of her did. The same part that also blamed herself for not trying hard enough to help Billy. To save him.

She started to help Gus in the shop and in exchange he didn’t charge her for the parts she needed to fix the Camaro. Which probably were worth a lot more than whatever work she was doing, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It was a week before her seventeenth birthday when the Camaro’s engine finally roared to life again, and Max desperately wished everything were as easy to fix as that. Gus’ birthday gift to her was giving the Camaro a new paint job. She burst into tears the day she came over after school and saw it. The car looked as good as new. The same way she had looked when Billy first brought her home.

Darlene, Billy had called her. Now she was her’s and Max figured that Billy would prefer that over having his baby girl end up as scrap metal. Probably. He loved that damned car, but he was also very possessive of her, so she couldn’t say for sure.

She could only hope he would approve.

She desperately hoped he did. 

*

It caused quite the commotion when she turned up to school with Darlene for the first time. Three years might have been enough for people to forget about Billy, but apparently not his car.

*

The night of her graduation she left the party early and drove Darlene to the cemetery where Billy rested. She got a flashlight and a shovel from the trunk and started digging in front of the headstone that said ‘Gone but not forgotten’ until the pan hit something metallic.

The urn.

Gingerly, she picked it from the hole in the ground and placed it on the grass next to her. Then she filled the hole with dirt and covered it with a sod of grass. No one would know she’d even been there.

“C’mon.” She got up, dusted the dirt off her jeans and took the urn. “We have a long way ahead of us, Billy.”

*

It took them almost a week to cross the country to reach the Pacific, Billy in the passenger seat, Max behind the wheel, an eclectic mix of Billy’s favorite bands blasting from the speakers. Darlene never gave her any troubles. She ate the miles like she was starving for it, and Max possibly fell in love with her a little more.

When they arrived in San Diego, she let the windows down and breathed in the hot, salty air that used to be home to her. Cali wasn’t quite home anymore, not after spending all of her teenage years in Hawkins. But Billy had never belonged there. And all he’d ever wanted was to leave. 

“We made it,” she announced, a bittersweet smile curling her lips. “You’re back.”

*

Max got them a room in a cute little bed and breakfast place right at the oceanfront. She put Billy’s urn on the window sill, undressed down to her top and undies and went to bed, utterly exhausted.

She slept for ten hours straight.

*

The soft pink and orange glow of dawn caressed her face when she woke up early the following morning. She skipped breakfast even though she hadn’t eaten the night before and was ravenous. But that had to wait for a little while longer.

She dressed quickly and snatched Billy from the window sill, hugging him to her chest when she left the house.

The morning was nice and balmy. There was a light breeze coming in from the mountains, playing with her hair.

It was perfect.

“Come, big bro, not much longer.” She crossed the street and went down to the beach that was still empty but would soon be crowded. When she reached the waterfront she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

It was time.

Absurdly, she felt sad, having to let Billy go. She had lost him a long time ago. This was just making things right and giving him what he wanted and deserved.

Tears slid down her face when she opened the urn and upended the contents into her free hand. The wind immediately caught some of the ashes, carrying them out, out, out over the waves towards the horizon where the sun slowly set the sky on fire.

Max dropped the now empty urn and had to clamp down on the instinct to cover her hand up to try and keep some parts of Billy with her. Instead she raised both her hands into the air and gently tilted them, so that the wind could take the remaining ashes.

“Godspeed,” she whispered, wiping her eyes and cheeks with the back of her hand. “Be free, Billy.”

She would always miss him. She really would. But now he was at least back where he belonged.

Billy Hargrove had finally come home.

[fernslivers]

I BEGGGG for the mordern Mizu contunuation from the begining 🙏🙏🙏 or any hc along with it, anything. I live for it (all your works, but this one specificly 🫠)

YOU GOT IT ANON

HERES MODERN MIZU Pt 4 (i think)

(And thank you anons for your patience, I see you!! I'm moving halfway across the country in two months so everything is crazyyyyy)

You guys are awesome!! Please, keep the requests coming! I know I take forever but they are so fun to work on!

TW: passing mentions of sexuality, illness

Mizu When Reader Gets a Cold

The first sign of trouble is the day Mizu is sitting at her laptop in the kitchen, and you come stumbling out of your room, hair crazy, blanket over your shoulders.

Both of you stare at each other in surprise.

She knows damn well you have classes all day today

She got home in the early hours of the morning, crashed for a few hours and assumed you had left already.

She's almost never home when you're home

Because her crush is starting to get really bad and she's panicking

So you weren't expecting to see her just hanging here.

“Oh- … hey,” you croak, and her eyes widen before narrowing

“... You're sick.”

“Eh … s’fine. Just a day cold thing.”

You don’t expect her to make a fuss, and you want to keep it a minor thing

You're shocked when she stands up abruptly.

“You're supposed to rest when you're sick.”

“I just needed some water–”

“I'll bring it. Go back to bed.”

Her tone brooks no argument.

You go, though you're completely mystified by this sudden, terrifying nursemaid you've acquired.

Truth be told, she's surprised at herself, too.

She's not normally very nurturing, but you’ve come to mean so much to her.

She can't stop fretting (not that she lets you see that).

She actually almost never gets sick, so she's not really sure what to do.

She calls everyone she knows

Well–almost everyone

Ringo of course is full of food-related remedies

But they are backed up with a surprisingly in-depth amount of medical knowledge

Akemi recommends pampering: “make her feel like a princess, let her rest and not have to do anything”

Taigen shouts in the back of Akemi’s call that Mizu should try some supplement someone was hawking on Reels

Akemi tells her to ignore him

(She was already planning to)

Eiji has several more traditional recipes and suggestions

He also, of course, recommends staying active

“Do not let the body rest too long, the congestion will settle and stay longer. Work is a remedy.”

Mizu shudders a little at some childhood memories that THAT statement brings up

She even calls Madam Kaji. The woman has surely nursed many girls with the goal of getting them back on their feet fast, so she MUST know effective remedies.

Madam Kaji is blunt as ever:

“orgasms”

Mizu goes red, while remaining stoic on the phone: “I'm serious. This is not the time.”

Kaji sighs. “Orgasms release feel-good chemicals to the brain. You want her to feel better? Give her a hard infusion of dopamine,” she purrs, voice dripping with innuendo.

Mizu hangs up abruptly.

(Madam Kaji laughs herself silly with her girls, imagining Mizu’s flustered expression.)

(Truth be told, she just uses OTC cold medicine.)

With you fully unaware, dozing in your room, Mizu paces

She's got no idea which one is going to be most effective

With her usual dogged determination, she decides she'll just try them all until one seems to be working.

Well–except the sex one. She should have known better than to ask Madam Kaji

Truth be told, she'd be happy to help with that one … but she doesn't think you'll go for it

So that's how you find yourself shuffled out to the couch where she can keep an eye on you

You try to protest, worried about getting her sick

But it's Mizu. A barreling train would barely slow her down.

You're banned from getting up for any reason, except for one supervised walk around the apartment every hour, in deference to Sword-Father.

If it weren't so bizarre, it would be hilarious how Serious she is about all this.

She gets you blankets, food, hot tea, medicine, ice cream, ginger ale … all the pampering things

But she gets them for you with the same Intense Focus and silence that she uses when training, or hunting leads on her father, or studying.

Brow furrowed, jaw tense, words sparse.

It is sweet, though, if strangely out of character for her.

She did hand you the remote and tell you to put on whatever you like to watch

But it's kind of hard to focus on the TV when piercing blue eyes keep appearing around the doorway to the kitchen, or over the top of her laptop from the other chair in the living room.

At one point, you innocently get up to use the bathroom…

…

“What are you doing?”

JEsus

God, your HEART

She just materialized out of nowhere

You think she might have actually scared the cold right out of your body for a minute

“Why are you getting up? What do you need? Sit down, I'll get it.”

“I need to PEE, Mizu. I don't think that's something you can do for me.”

She gets a bit huffy, but she can't really argue

She hovers around you the entire way to the bathroom with her grumpy-cat expression, her eyes sharp on your every shuffling step.

She's so close behind you that she's the thing most likely to trip you.

You stop at the doorway. “Do NOT follow me in here.”

“I wasn't GOING to!”

(The jury is still out on that ...)

“Just– … call me if you think you're going to fall.” She calls through the door.

Miracle of miracles, you somehow manage to use the bathroom without keeling over.

She hovers the rest of the way back to the couch.

At one point, you see her take a call–she looks so serious that you assume it must be business or school related.

Then, she hangs up: “Ringo is bringing soup.” She tells you, as though he were bringing over Serious Documents.

You can't help but smile.

Despite the unconventionality, she's so Mizu that it’s intensely charming.

Not to mention how strangely special this is all making you feel.

Nobody has ever fussed over you like this, and her unusual intensity makes you feel like your comfort is genuinely important

This is also the most attention she's paid you in a while, and it's good to have her close again

Even if she won't let you really talk

She says you need to rest your throat, but of course, it does help with deflecting awkward questions

Like where she's been disappearing off to lately ...

Later in the evening, after Ringo has delivered the biggest vat of soup you've ever seen, you end up falling asleep on the couch.

Mizu puts her laptop aside, and quietly watches you sleep for a few moments

Your face is so peaceful, and it's been so good to be sharing space with you again

All day she's been wondering why it's Madam Kaji's advice that won't leave her head.

She's long since accepted her crush, but with it being such a hopeless case (she thinks), it should have fizzled out by now

Instead, she spent her whole day caring for you and she doesn't even mind that it set her plans back and used time she can't spare

She doesn't even question that it was worth it, and that scares her a little.

Sighing, she gets up and pads over to readjust it blanket to cover you better

Then, she hesitates.

This is the closest she's been to you in a long time.

She can feel your warmth where her knuckles are brushing against your shoulder, smell your unique scent.

You look so … vulnerable. She knows how fragile human life can be, better than most. But you trust her, even after everything you've seen of her life.

… maybe she should spend more time with you.

Yes, the crush is hard, but you've been so accepting, she knows she's been pushing you away lately.

You're precious to her, and she truly doesn't want to lose you.

After another brief hesitation, she says your name softly, checking that you're asleep.

When you don't stir, she leans down and presses her lips to your forehead, just softly.

The way she can just barely recall Mama doing for her once when she was sick as a child, one of her happiest childhood memories, one of the only times during that period before Eiji that she felt safe.

She doesn't know how to take care of people. But she's going to try fucking hard for you.

With another sigh, she walks into the kitchen to get some more soup for herself now that you're asleep.

As soon as she's out of the room, your eyes open

What the hell was that?? Did she just–

From the kitchen, you hear a slight sneeze.

Well.

Shit.

[lieran03]

Sudden Sickness

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

When you suddenly get sick, how would he take care of you?

Genre: Fluff/slice of life Pairing: Zayne x fem!reader (usage of Snowflake as nickname) Words: 2.152 Warning: none! A/N: got stuck in a rough month, and suddenly getting sick, this fic came to accompany me if I got sick in the future

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

MASTERLIST

Rafayel's || Xavier's || Sylus' || Caleb's

A frown and a look of displeased was seen on Zayne’s face. With his work attire, wearing his doctor coat, the girl shrank in her seat. It should be a regular check-up, like an everyday thing she does, especially after she finishes a hard mission that goes on for days. Yet, this time, the person in front of her wasn’t only Zayne, her childhood friend and partner.

The person in front of her was Doctor Zayne Li, her primary physician.

“I think I told you to eat properly. Did the Hunter Association didn’t provide real food to their agents? It was a long mission, and a tough one. Taking care of oneself is just a basic human instinct. But I guess, right now, you didn’t have that.”

“Zayne,” a whine was heard as a call.

“It was Doctor Zayne for you. You’re still inside my room.” Hearing the way Zayne responded, a pout could be seen, the girl shrank back to the seat she was currently in. “Your condition has been strange since yesterday, and for tonight, you will go straight to rest.”

“Why are you acting like this now, Doctor Zayne?” The girl’s question made Zayne lift his glasses, which slid down from the bridge of his nose. One look from the man told her everything. “Sorry, I should have taken care of myself better. But it’s not my fault! The mission was important, I barely had time to eat ….”

The more she tried to defend herself, the more she sounded weak, looking down and avoiding Zayne’s gaze as if he would be able to eat her alive. Noticing her act, both of her hands were squeezing the other in fear, Zayne let out a long sigh and rubbed his temple. It’s not the first time things like this have happened between them, and each time, he has always been the one to yield.

“We can eat dinner together, I only need to wrap up before I can go home. I will drive you too.”

Instead of a clear answer, the girl only mumbled for a few moments, not giving an answer to Zayne or anything that would satisfy him. Being scolded by him is not the best thing, and even when she already knew it was because he cared about her, the feeling she felt right now never changed. Zayne did make her feel like she neglected herself.

Knowing his lover for a long time, it was easy for him to notice what made her act like now. Another sigh came from him before he patted her hair, looking at her with gentle eyes and trying to smile. It’s not her fault for getting herself stuck with a condition that shows she lacks sleep and has barely eaten in the past few days.

She is just too devoted to her work.

“Let’s grab something to eat now, Snowflake.”

With the changing tone from Zayne and the look he gives, a small smile finally emerges from her. She stood up almost too fast, showing how eager she was to run away from the dreaded seat. However, with the sudden movement, she became lightheaded almost as fast as she stood up. Both of her hands went towards Zayne’s table to stabilize herself.

“Are you really that eager to walk away from this check-up?” Zayne asked, words tinted with a hint of a joke. When he got nothing as a reply, he knew the condition was far worse. “Should we just order food? You like them, right? I can cook for you too, but you haven’t eaten since this morning ….”

“Let’s just eat outside, and then we can go home,” she cut his words, giving an off smile.

Zayne couldn’t say anything else. Looking at how the girl acted, he felt like there was something she was trying to hide. Yet, when he just scolded her, he didn’t feel like nagging her one more time. He wanted to trust her, wanting to make sure that she was comfortable and knew he only cared for her, and was scared she would get sick.

His negligence, hoping to create a comfortable place for her, only made a hole in their relationship. She was silent all the time throughout the time he was driving. She did talk now and then when they ate, but Zayne noticed something was different with the way she acted. The question inside him was held back with fear. A fear of making her infuriated with his act.

The moment they were at home, Zayne couldn’t even ask if she wanted to wash up or if she wanted some warm tea first. The moment she entered the house, she went straight to the bathroom, not leaving any words to Zayne or a warning if she wanted to clean up first. Being worried more than before, Zayne decided to boil some water, making tea for her before bed, just like usual.

“Is something wrong with you? Did you … Did I hurt you with my words?” Zayne asked when he went to bed, discarding his work for the night just so he could have peace of mind. “I need to know what I did wrong first so I can apologize properly.”

The frown on Zayne’s face made the girl stare a little longer than usual. The same off smile was seen once again. “It’s not you who are in the wrong, I know that you’re just trying to remind me to take care of myself. I can be very forgetful about the important things, but you’re always there to remind me. I just feel … a bit off?”

“Your temperature has risen since before,” Zayne said when he put his hand to her forehead, trying to measure and compare it to when he was checking her at the hospital. “It might be an early stage of fever. I have made some tea, it's supposed to calm you so you can sleep without any problem.”

“Thank you, Zaynie,” she said, leaning on Zayne’s hand that went to her cheek.

“Next time, I would be more than happy if you could tell me about this beforehand. Even though we can prevent it now, I still think that the sooner the better. And no, it’s not me scolding you, I just wanted to make sure you’re always in good health.”

By the end of his words, Zayne was getting closer to the girl’s face, and he was hesitant for a moment before kissing her forehead. His cold lips were in contrast to her burning forehead, giving a strange sensation to the girl’s whole body. Although it was strange, part of her also enjoyed the sensation given.

While drinking the tea, making sure that it was still warm until it finished, there were no words exchanged between them. Zayne has always enjoyed the serene moments spent with them. Now and then, Zayne would look at the girl to make sure that the fever didn’t get worse; he also wanted to see if there were any changes in her body, such as chapped lips.

“For now, you'd better sleep. Rest as much as you need so your body can recover. We didn’t need you to suddenly fall sick or get worse than this.”

“Zayne … you told me to tell you sooner, right?” the girl started hesitantly, didn’t know if she should say it or not. When she finally locked eyes with Zayne, the hesitation was long gone. He needs to know. “My throat started to get itchy … did you think that maybe I’m already sick?”

Zayne was silent, a bit shocked to hear the honest words. However, he didn’t have time to reply to her or respond to any of her speculation as she started to talk nonstop, making assumptions about her condition and what might have happened to her tomorrow. It’s not until she coughs, Zayne takes the cup in her hand, puts it away, and hugs her, taking her to lie down with him.

“Whatever that might happen tomorrow, let it be for tomorrow. Your doctor is here after all, are you going to be the one to make the call about your sickness?” A low laugh, followed by another short cough, came from the girl. “That’s right, relax when you’re with me. We can take care of tomorrow together.”

Zayne’s words were filled with doubt. He didn’t know what would happen the next day, he didn’t know how worse it would be, but he was sure he would be with her through her sickness. The moment she got dramatic, the moment she started to think that she was in the worst situation, and when she started to worry about being a trouble.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t be with you all the time. I can’t not come to the hospital today. But I’ve gotten your breakfast ready here, with your medicine. I will call you when I’m available, so please keep your phone’s notification on.” Guilt can be seen on Zayne’s face when he leans down, giving a light kiss on her burning forehead. “I’m not working overtime tonight.”

As he already expected, the sickness came crashing down on her, making her barely able to wake up from bed. As much as he wanted to stay by her side, he did know how important his work was, and how she would be disappointed if he didn’t come to work just because of her. As an exchange, Zayne did ask if she wanted to be treated at the hospital instead.

A clear no came, telling that she didn’t want to bother him while at work, and she knew she would be okay at home. She might get lonely at the moment he’s not there, but his phone call and voice message were enough for her to be able to stay put. With no one at home, she was groaning and crying as much as she wanted.

Taking a picture of what she eats, making sure Zayne knows she has eaten the medicine, and even a picture of herself lying down on the bed, she sent everything with the hope that Zayne would come home faster. While she was fast asleep, snoring lightly, Zayne stepped inside the house, noticing the slight mess she had made that he told her not to worry about.

“Your fever has come down a bit,” Zayne whispered while giving a light kiss. Once he finished cleaning the house, even preparing for dinner, he entered the bedroom to notice a sign of crying. “Does your throat still hurt? Is there anything uncomfortable with your body?”

“Zayne …?”

“I’m here, Snowflake. And I’m ready to take care of you.”

“But you’ve been taking care of a lot of patients all day.”

When a pout was seen, Zayne couldn’t help but chuckle. “There’s still one patient I haven’t properly taken care of. Your primary physician is here, and it’s my duty to take care of you. Dinner is here, and then you should drink your medicine.”

Zayne’s tone was not forcing her, just telling. A lot of sorry and kisses came from him, caressing her cheek and wiping off the tear stain. It was faint, but it was there. Feeling guilty won’t be enough; the only thing he could do was to take care of her, spoon-feed her, and help her to drink the medicine. The bitter taste of the medicine was easier to take with Zayne with her.

Sitting on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, and embracing herself with his scent. Somehow, with his presence, the sickness she was currently having felt easier to face, her body had become lighter instead of uncomfortable all day, and her heart felt full with Zayne’s care and attention. All of that for her only.

“You’re warm …,” she mumbled, nuzzling closer to his body. Sensing that the medicine had started to kick in, Zayne started to move and made sure she was comfortable lying on top of him. “My whole body aches strangely, and I think I will die. It feels really bad without you around, but I’m doing good, right?”

“Of course, you are. May I say, you’re the bravest Hunter who faces this sickness alone. Next time … if something like this happens again, I will try to make some time for you.”

It was silent for a moment before an answer could be heard. “It’s okay. Waiting for you was worth it, Zayne. At least I know, when I’m sick, you’re always there taking care of me too. The message, the soup you made, everything. And at the end … I will be able to embrace you like this. The wait is worth it.”

“Then, sleep tight, Snowflake. You will get better tomorrow. No more sickness for you,” Zayne mumbled before giving a light peck to her lips, sending her to the dreamland to wish her healthy.

[foxymoxynoona]

here to formally request amended jk being horny for pregnant bella🙋‍♀️

Story: Amended Length: 2605 words CW: language, some innuendo, fluff Timeline: Summer before baby is born

Isabella muttered curses under her breath as sudsy water splashed onto the lip of the sink –which wouldn’t have mattered, except that handwashing anything these days required leaning forward over the curve of her belly. It wasn’t possible to lean far enough though; her belly pressed into whatever counter, laundry machine, or grocery store freezer she was dealing with –or, worse, endured the bump of cabinets, doors, or boxes as she underestimated the clearance needed for the time being.  

Now she pulled back with a grimace at the soapy line of water straight across her belly, wet fabric clinging uncomfortably to her stretched skin. It was warm water. If it was cold, she might have welcomed the touch of relief, but despite the full blast air conditioning fighting back the heat of this second summer, Isabella was running hot. Ezra had shuffled through wrapped in a blanket not long before, complaining about needing sweaters even though school had just started, but Isabella now contemplated just taking her shirt off and going without.

Yeah, fuck it. Maybe she could finally be a normal human temperature.

“I’m pregnant with a furnace,” she muttered, peeling the wet fabric up and over her head and tossing it to the counter. Her sudsy hand brushed against her face, leaving a trail of bubbles that felt like the wet lick of a dog. She recoiled and brushed at it with her wrist only to wipe on more. Her annoyed grunt as hair plastered itself across her eye, leaving her partially blind, led to another as her belly brushed painfully against the wet counter again, a bit too hard.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve got soap in my eye,” Isabella complained at Jungkook’s question. She turned, eager for rescue.

“I meant about the dishes,” he corrected. “But baby, there are much better things to get in your eye.”

“Surely you don’t mean–” she broke off at the sound of footsteps heavy on the stairs, but whichever child it was only made it halfway down before turning around. “That would be worse.”

“Let me help you.”

“Just hand me a towel.”

Her one non-soapy eye tracked him pluck a towel from the lower drawer, bending and then rising with all the ease of someone not gestating a watermelon with what looked like a big ol’ round Jungkook head on the sonogram. She held her hand out for the towel, reminding herself that she was only cranky because it was too fucking hot in this kitchen with the sun streaming through the windows over the sink like that. Why had she wanted windows over the sink? What a stupid idea, so she could bake while washing up?

Jungkook draped the towel in her hand, then reached up to push the hair out of her eye, all sweet and loving like. But in the same motion, as she lifted the towel to brush the soap away, Jungkook’s hands landed with the clearest intention directly on her tits. Both hands, palms pressed down against the rounded tops poorly supported by a regular bra straining its last, largest hooks, because she had only bought a couple maternity bras and they were all in the wash because she was sweating like a melting popsicle every damn day lately. 

“Buzz off,” she complained, flipping a hand at him as the other ran the towel across her face. 

Instead his hands slid down with the obvious purpose of cupping her breasts from below. Unfortunately, the poor fit of the cups surrendered their cargo too easily; her first clear glimpse of his expression showed obvious surprise as her breasts spilled right out into his hands, as if they’d only been waiting for permission.

“Hey!” she cried.

“Happy accident,” he giggled –truly giggled– and palmed them. “Damn.”

“Your hands are too hot!”

“Yeah that’s not the only thing too hot in here,” he corrected. “Let me just– oh shit, that wasn’t me!” he laughed as those final hooks finally gave up the ghost and her bra practically flung itself halfway down her arms, leaving her naked from the waist up.

“Jungkook!”

“That wasn’t me,” he insisted again. “But while we’re here…” He squeezed her breasts but mercifully gentle after months of her occasional complaining about soreness. They didn’t hurt right now, per se, but Isabella felt like they ought to, getting as close as she was to go time. Only a month left! 

She huffed but there was no bite to her faux annoyance, both because Jungkook looked like such an endearing goon staring at her chest like that and because the reminder that the end was in sight made it all –the swollen, the bumping, the aching, the nonstop peeing– seem so much more temporary.

“Just clasp me back,” she insisted, turning out of his hands to present her back to him. A shiver ran up her spine despite herself as his hands slid along her bare shoulders, tugging the straps into place, then the band.

“Oh. Uh… yeah, that’s not going to hook again,” he said, then leaned close to murmur near her ear, “Your knockers bent the metal, they wanted to be in my hands so bad.”

“My knockers?” she repeated, incredulous. “Come on, gross.”

“I can think of a lot grosser things to call them right now.”

“Well don’t.”

His hands slid around her, fingertips light along the swell of her belly and then right back up to cup her breasts again, palms lifting and fingers framing her larger darkened nipples. 

The light touch would have been nice if not for the sweat she felt pooled beneath and between her breasts, and the painful awareness he could feel it too.

“Don’t,” she complained, trying to twist out of his grasp. “I’m all gross and sweaty.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re gross–”

“I’m way too hot–”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he said and dropped his lips to her shoulder. “I came to see why you aren’t taking a nap like you’re supposed to and instead I find you all soapy and half naked–”

“I’m not all soapy–” she snorted, only to gasp when his hand suddenly smeared a palm of soap suds across her chest. “Koo!” 

“Soapy– hey!” he laughed when she promptly scooped up a hand of bubbles and smeared them across his neck. “Ok, I can work with this–”

“It’s too hot and I’m too big,” she scolded, trying to shove herself back into her mangled bra. 

“The bedroom is nice and cool,” he countered. The water ran briefly behind her, and a moment later he ran cold wet hands up her neck. “Much nicer than here. I closed the curtains so it’s dark, too. Good place to lay back, put your feet up–”

“Uh huh.” She tried to hide the shiver in her voice but doubted her success.

“Maybe get a little play time in before our hiatus.” 

“Stop calling it a hiatus,” she laughed, opening her eyes. “That makes it sound like we’re taking a break.”

“Just from sex,” he assured her. “Which I understand and respect, for as long as you need to recover. And I will only respectfully watch as your tits get even bigger than this–”

“You’re out of control,” she teased.

“No but I’d like to be, if you would be so kind as to follow me upstairs— damnit,” he sighed as footsteps on the stairs made him slide just back enough so as not to seem indecent in the kitchen. “I don’t suppose this will get better with another one,” he mumbled under his breath as Lily bounded into the kitchen. 

“Can I have a popsicle?” Lily asked, not even batting an eye as Isabella reached for her shirt on the counter and tugged it over her head. Not that she expected Lily to be bothered by a flash of breast or anything –and certainly there would be a lot more of that going on if she did nurse the baby like she expected to– but rather the handsiness taking place only a moment before that left Isabella feeling guilty and flushed. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“It’s almost dinner,” Isabella pointed out.

“What your mom said,” Jungkook nodded, turning to the sink and nudging Isabella away. “I’ll finish these dishes up and put it in.”

But Lily gave her big eyes, and it was really fucking hot, and so Isabella relented, “Fine, you can have one, tell Ezra he can too. I guess one popsicle won’t ruin your appetite. Hell, I’ll have one too.”

“Great,” Jungkook mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he grinned. “I’m glad you’re staying hydrated. Whatever helps you cool down.” Isabella had known Jungkook long enough to predict what was in his mind: the image of her mouth closing around the shaft of ice.

As if he needed the mental image to get him going. While Lily ran off with a popsicle in each hand to find her brother, Isabella leaned in, ostensibly to survey Jungkook’s success in finishing the handwashing. She watched him rinse off the suds, up to his elbows, and shake the droplets off his fingers before reaching for the towel she’d tossed aside earlier. 

“Safe to turn around now?” she joked, already sliding her hand down his hip to make a point of how turned on he wasn’t at this late stage of her pregnancy.

Except she was very wrong.

“Not yet but you can’t expect me to stare out the window forever. Damn it gets hot right here, we need blackout curtains on that window–” his rambling broke off when she didn’t move her hand away.

“Really?” she asked, then realized it might sound accusatory when she was actually only surprised. 

“What, my wife standing topless and sudsy in the kitchen–”

“Eight months pregnant,” she pointed out. “Swollen ankles and big ol’ belly and–”

“Bella, I’m trying to calm down, don’t make it worse!”

“Oh yeah? Which part of what I said is what gets you going–”

“My wife,” he quickly answered, grabbing her hand and pressing it to his chest. “Damn, she really gets me going.”

“Even eight months pregnant.”

“Even eight months pregnant,” he grinned, then leaned in close and whispered, “I think doggy has been working well for us…”

That was the thing, she shouldn’t be surprised, and no wonder her teasing wasn’t going to land. Jungkook had done nothing but make it obvious that her changing, growing, aching body was no less appealing to him than it had been pre-pregnancy. Not even in just a sweet I love my wife no matter what way but in that truly horn-dog, ready to jump her bones, unable to keep his hands off when they were alone kind of way. The bump to him, by his own words, was just more curves to fondle.

“You aren’t getting bored of it?” she asked, letting her other hand join the first on his chest as he slid closer.

“Of… sex? Of your body? What are we talking about here?” 

“Of the single position that seems to work for me–”

“Sorry, bored of doggy style? Are you crazy? I think the pregnancy brain is finally getting to you–”

“I swear to god if you talk about pregnancy brain–”

“I don’t think it’s possible to get tired of taking you from behind like that but I am very happy to test it out. For science.” His fingers pressed into her hips, creeping up just beneath the hem of her shirt to touch skin.

“Uh huh. I’m sure you are.”

“And… you? Are you happy to uh… if you aren’t feeling up for it anymore, that’s totally fine, you know? I can use my imagination in the shower…”

She rolled her eyes and tugged on his shirt, scolding, “You better not. I don’t think I’m out of the game yet…” She might have been, if her husband was less attentive, less caring, or less hot. Her hormones weren’t carrying her away or anything, but it was certainly not hard to get herself in the mood with just a bit of ogling when he got out of the shower, or when he rubbed her feet (the best foreplay at the moment), or even starting with the fondness of watching him go about the mundane domesticity of their home and family tasks… Pregnancy certainly hadn’t reduced how down bad they were for each other. “I might be soon,” she admitted, “Things are just getting so uncomfortable, especially if this heat sticks around, but–”

“That will be ok.”

“But not yet,” she winked. “Maybe tonight we can take a shower to cool off together and see where it goes? Oh, or you might need a cool off shower right now…”

“Don’t kick a man when he’s hard,” Jungkook whined and kissed her forehead. “I’m going to uh… go water the plants outside or something… wait, I’ll put a pizza in for dinner first–”

“I’ll put the pizza in,” she corrected. “Don’t let the neighbors see you like that!”

He chuckled and turned the oven on anyway, pulled the pizza from the freezer and had it in the oven before Isabella could insist again she would do it. He’d done the dishes too. Damn, foreplay came in many forms. There was nothing left for her to do but wander to the couch and plop down as he called for Gidget and headed out to the backyard to do a round in making sure the sprinklers were working, the little garden Eomma had planted with the kids at the side of the yard was getting water, that the grass wasn’t too long, that Gidget actually did her business outside (she hated the heat). When Isabella peeked out the window while taking the pizza out of the oven, he’d stripped off his shirt and was standing full under the sprinklers. She had no way of knowing if he was just enjoying a nice cooldown or was still all hot and bothered thinking of her washing dishes topless, even eight months pregnant, because he was ridiculous.

“Appa’s playing in the sprinklers,” Lily called from the door to the patio.

“Isn’t it almost dinner time?” Ezra asked. It only made Lily’s smile broader in the second before she slipped out the door and ran screaming across the yard to join Jungkook. Ezra gave Isabella a bemused aren’t they silly look.

“Well, pizza needs to cool down a bit,” she mused. “We might as well…” She nudged her son as she shuffled past him towards the backdoor, only to call her complaints as he easily sprinted around her. Gidget ran barking circles as the whole family shrieked with laughter beneath the cooling spray. 

“Helping?” Isabella teased as Jungkook’s arms closed around her, pressing his wet body against her back.

“Not even a little,” he laughed and whispered in her ear, “Just thinking what the air conditioner is going to do to those nipples later–”

“Behave! We still have dinner, kids going to bed, laundry to put away–”

“Yeah yeah, just making my plans. I don’t mind the wait. Adds to the– hey, don’t aim at your sister’s head!” Jungkook interrupted himself as Ezra’s soccer ball went a bit too suspiciously close. Jungkook patted Isabella’s ass and jogged over to join Ezra in some wiser choices with the ball. 

“Later,” Isabella murmured in agreement, too quietly for him to hear, but it warmed her all the same. Jungkook was nothing if not a man of his word and she, even eight months pregnant, would rally until she just couldn’t anymore because when your husband looked at you like that, being pregnant was just a positional challenge in the bedroom, nothing more.

Read More Amended things

[sullyfortress]

Does Spider know that she was made to be a human recom in your genderbent au? And if ao how did she find out?

She learns slowly, over time.

When she’s young, Nora simplifies it—she just refers to Quaritch as her “mother.” It’s softer than the truth, which would be something like: “You were a genetic backup, grown in case Quaritch’s human body died… which it did. So, oops, you’re the forgotten emergency eggshell they left behind.”

The real story doesn’t come out all at once. Maybe Spider finds old files about her own DNA and notices there’s only one parent strand. Or maybe someone slips up and says something they shouldn’t. Either way, it hits her hard when the pieces start to fall into place.

She tries not to show how much it affects her—but it does. Deeply. It also helps explain why Neytir is so cold toward her. Why she’s discouraged from spending time with the Sully kids. That distance stings, but eventually, it starts to make a painful kind of sense.

It’s a sad reality of her existence. But it doesn’t truly hit until the second act, when it’s revealed that Quaritch is still alive. Her Avatar—with all her memories—is part of the new wave of RDA enforcement.

That changes everything.

Spider hates her. She sees Quaritch as the reason she’ll never be fully accepted by Neytir or the Omatikaya. But more than that—she’s terrified. Is Quaritch here for her? To take her back? To use her body?

That’s why she was created, right?

But Quaritch is… fascinated. She didn’t even know the human clone project had been approved. Yet here’s this girl—a genetic copy, but with no memories. A new soul.

Avatar Quaritch is a copy of the mind and soul of her original self. Spider is a copy of the body—but with something entirely new inside.

And that makes Quaritch see her as a strange, unexpected daughter. A younger version of herself. A clean slate. She begins to feel something like protectiveness. Something conflicted, and dangerous, and real.

And that makes everything way more complicated.

Because if the RDA ever gets their hands on Spider, would they store her? Keep her hidden away until she’s old enough to be used? Would Quaritch try to claim her—to step back into a human body using Spider like a spare uniform?

When Spider is taken, the Omatikaya don’t move immediately.

To protect their people, Jane and Neytir flee with their children. They don’t risk the clan. Not for this.

But not before Jane and Nora have a massive fight.

Nora wants her to do something. To get Spider back. Jane—already in soldier mode—tries to explain: The Omatikaya can't possibly fight this. The RDA base is too heavily guarded. Storming it would cost lives they can’t afford to lose.

And how is she supposed to justify that risk? “Let’s go rescue the clone of the colonel responsible for the deaths of thousands?”

Even if she wants to… how does she ask that of them?

And K'ir—oh, sweet K'ir—is not happy.

He’s furious.

His relationship with Neytir has always been strained because of how his father treats Spider. But when he sees his mother refuse to fight for her—that’s what breaks his heart.

Those emotions don’t fade. They deepen. And they begin to change him.

He starts relying more on his own thoughts, his own instincts. He draws closer to Eywa, not out of peace, but out of need. He begins to wonder: Can I find Spider—through Eywa?

(Which I’ll make a separate post about: how and what K'ir is in relation to Grant—because obviously, that’s a bit different than in the canon movies…)

[svt-zaneri]

Zaneri Kim (김자네리), was born and raised in The Upper East Side, Manhattan, NYC. She lived there until the age of 14 and started training at the age of 15 during 2012 to become an idol. She then debuted on May 26, 2015 as the only female member of the co-ed group, Seventeen.

—

Growing up 𝜗𝜚

Since she grew up in such a wealthy family, she got the opportunity to indulge in many different activities. She took art classes, acting lessons, went to exquisite parties, and enjoyed travelling. However, her favorite thing to do, and what she stuck with, was anything music-related. She took dance classes for hip hop, contemporary, jazz, breakdancing, ballet, and pop. She didn’t take many vocal lessons until her parents convinced her that her beautiful voice needed to be nurtured. She also learned to play several instruments like the piano, guitar, drums, and the violin.

To this day, she still plays all of them quite well, especially the guitar and piano, which she took special interest in. She has two guitars, an electric guitar she bought for herself, and the other is an acoustic guitar, which was a gift from her late grandfather.

When she moved to Seoul at the age of 14, she was enrolled in a private school and stayed with her grandparents. It was Zaneri’s idea to move, as she wanted to know more about her Korean side. Her parents, however, couldn’t just pack up their lives and leave. So they made her stay with her maternal grandparents. Her grandparents happily welcomed their granddaughter, whom they rarely saw, into their home.

She was scouted after an agent saw her dancing and singing during a school competition, which she ended up winning. Her grandparents agreed to let her begin training, but she still needed her parents’ permission. She’s an only child, which made it hard to convince her parents that becoming an idol was the right path. It’s not that they were against the idea of idols or anything, but they knew how competitive the industry is, and they knew their daughter wasn’t guaranteed to debut. However, after much consideration and research, they agreed.

—

‧˚₊•--┈┈୨୧--┈┈•‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊•┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹‧

ఌ︎. Zaneri's Temporary Hiatus (specifically 2018-2019)

Disclaimer: Sort of angsty, mention of depression and familial loss. Nothing too detailed though, but proceed with caution nonetheless.

Being the only female member of a group where she's the only female amongst 13 other male members garnered a lot of unnecessary hate and criticism from some viewers. Zaneri was often ignored at concerts, fan signs, and even sent threatening messages. Zaneri, at the time, was very fragile, and her anxiety was through the roof. Although the members, especially S.Coups, tried to hide these awful things from her, when her curiosity got the best of her, their efforts were simply in vain.

She tried to keep her head up high, but it was difficult. The members did everything they could to help her, but deep down, she felt like she was only creating more problems for them to deal with. Her grandfather had also passed away towards the end of 2017, and that was truly her last straw. She fell into extreme depressive episodes, which not only affected her but also affected the group. The boys, however, never blamed her and never would. They reassured her, consoled her, and constantly defended her.

Zaneri, however, felt terrible for causing so many problems. Without the knowledge of her members, she had a one-on-one meeting with their manager and the CEO to express her grievances. She asked the CEO if she could take an indefinite hiatus, which he agreed to. He expressed that the company is working hard to fix the issue. An official statement was later released confirming Zaneri’s indefinite hiatus. It had garnered mixed reactions and even more questions. She decided to leave Seoul and head back to New York at the beginning of 2018.

Her parents kept a careful eye on her and she started therapy soon after. She still kept in touch with the rest of Seventeen, talking to them every other day. She even saw the messages fans left under seventeen’s videos and on twitter pages about her which were mostly positive. It felt nice knowing that there were people who appreciated her.

She ended up getting better every day, and towards the end of 2019, she was ready to move back to the spotlight as she was in a much better place. Her parents were against it at first, but with some convincing from Zaneri, her maternal grandmother, the members, and even the company, her parents ended up agreeing.

She travelled back to SK incognito and immediately went to the dorm to visit the members. The company also decided how she was going to make her comeback during a meeting the following day. That’s when her manager proposed the idea of her dropping a single without any notice to the fans. Everyone agreed, and on January 1st, 2020, her single ‘Vixen’ was all over.

With the way Zaneri came back after two years away, it was clear--she wasn't just returning; she was reintroducing herself. Her makeup had matured, trading the playful charm of her earlier days for a more refined, elegant edge. Her once shoulder-length hair now fell in sleek, healthy strands all the way down to her hips, a quiet symbol of time passed and lessons learned.

Her figure had changed too--not drastically, but noticeably. She carried herself with a quiet confidence; her waist curved gently into her hips, creating an effortless hourglass silhouette, her legs long and strong. Her nails were now always polished with some sort of design or simply manicured, compared to the natural look from before.

It wasn't that anything was ever wrong with the old Zaneri--this transformation wasn't born out of criticism. It was something she did for herself. A shift. A soft evolution. Because under the gloss and glow, she was still Zaneri Kim. Just...more her.

She’s still kind, funny, caring, calm, positive (for the most part), ambitious, smart, and just simply Zaneri. The girl her members and fans loved, just with a bit more self-assured aura. Therapy helped her a lot with her self-confidence and self-control. She probably would’ve just stayed in New York, in the shadows, because life wasn't so bad there.

Nevertheless, she couldn't stay holed up in their luxury apartment; she knew she belonged on a big stage in front of millions of people. Her members convincing her to come back and always checking in on her, and her true fans continuously flooding the comments on Seventeen’s videos asking for her, really brought tears to her eyes. So she decided she definitely needed to go back.

Of course, her haters resurfaced and made comments with the desperate attempt of trying to once again bully her out of doing what she loves. These comments didn’t affect her like they did back then. Back then, she’d cry for hours and shut off her phone, but now? She’d roll her eyes at those irrelevant comments that underestimated her, that shamed her. She knows her skills are top-notch and she can’t wait to continue proving them wrong.

Her commitment, dedication, and determination for this journey are the keys to her success now. Her passion for music is palpable, and she now knows that to continue her dream with her members and fans, she’ll need to continue growing and fighting for what she loves. She plans to create even more memories with her members, ones she may have missed out on, and also continue to support and grow with them. She hopes to inspire fans through their music and make a global impact.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

⤷𐙚 Masterlist

[aphyray]

The Shepherd's Sword - Counting Sheep

A little fanfic for @renstrapp's @theshepherdssword. Feeling inspired seeing all the fanart for the upcoming book release. Can't draw for my life so I must ply my only craft. This would take place somewhere in Chapter 5, if they didn't quite make it through the woods before nightfall, and if Shep were really bad at being a shepherd.

-

“Twelve,” Shep said. A hard answer to a hard question from a soft kid. A shepherd’s burden.

Wayne laughed. The way she does. The way she shouldn’t. But you probably can’t even beat that kind of behavior out of a hound like her.

“That many?” Wayne teased Shep. “In two years? You sure you’re cut out for this? Maybe you’d be better tending trees. They don’t wander off as much.”

That grin. Arrogance dripping. Irredeemable wretch.

Robin kept on asking hard questions, soft-eyed: “You remember them all?”

Shep nodded, then nodded again at the shaft of her staff. Twelve notches. She offered it up for Robin to count.

She tried, a little too hard, but even tracing her fingertips carefully over the scars, she couldn’t count more than eight that hadn’t been worn away with time.

Shep took the staff back and showed her every one, naming every ewe and lamb she’d lost.

“You can’t protect them all,” Shep said, glancing at Jo when she did, but Jo wasn’t really paying much attention. Shep’s finger lingered over one notch. She dug her nail into the groove to keep it fresh.

Wayne couldn’t help herself from pouncing on an opportunity to brag in front of eternally star-struck Jo: “Maybe you can’t. I’ve never lost anything.”

Shep just closed her eyes and shook the annoyance out of her head. The fire needed more wood if the four of them had any hope of keeping the beasts at bay tonight. The forest seemed more uneasy these nights than it had ever been, and she wasn’t planning to add any more notches to her staff during this little detour of an errand.

When she got back, Jo and Robin were asleep, cuddled into each other sweetly. Wayne lingered. Like an ivy rash lingers.

Shep insisted she should go to bed too: “You get the second shift.”

Wayne didn’t respond to that. She was trying to make a show of staring at the fire, but her gaze kept flickering to Shep’s staff.

To the notches.

“You missed one,” she said at last. All that boastful pride was gone. Just a show for the kids, apparently.

Shep repeated herself: “I’ve lost twelve sheep.”

“There’s thirteen cuts in the wood. Thought you were smart, Shep. How do you keep track of that flock of theirs if you can’t count?”

Shep wrinkled her nose and looked away bitterly before she told Wayne it was time for her to be a good hound and go to sleep.

Wayne grumbled about it, but she did concede to lie down in her bed. Like a good hound.

Not like a good hound, she decided to bark out an arrogant last little bit of advice: “It doesn’t make you better. Remembering.”

“Good night, Wayne.”

While the fire crackled and Shep’s trio of unwarranted wards slept safe and sound in her care, she spent the time scoring the notches with her nail.

Even someone like Robin should be able to see each and every one of them.

Shep glanced at the kid, whose face seemed troubled by something in her sleep – even in Jo’s guardian embrace.

…Especially someone like Robin.

Wayne tagged in when the moon was high.

Shep’s sleep was uneasy. Visions of eyes in the shadows beyond the fire. Violence. Blood.

When she woke, she found Wayne cleaning her sword next to some messily butchered beast. She’d done a poor job wiping the blood of it off her cheeks. Recklessly hunting in the night again? Leaving the camp unguarded? Of course she would. Even with kids to take care of, of course she was going to be so careless and arrogant and—

Before Shep could build up the pyre of her scorn to the pines, a sudden splash of realization dowsed the flame in her. That was no deer. No deer had fur that thick.

She wrinkled her nose at it, standing silently behind Wayne, ready to beat her stupid and sorry, but she needed an answer before she did:

“What happened?”

“Cougar.”

“…Another one?”

“Think so. Smelled different. Hard to tell in the dark, though. Maybe it was the same. Hell of a thing if it was, though, after that fight.”

“…It smelled different?”

Wayne held up her sword to admire the sheen, then slipped it back in its scabbard with a satisfying snap of the clasp. “It smelled different,” she repeated.

“You killed it by yourself?”

She looked over her shoulder with a grin that said it all: Of course she did. Jo and Robin were still asleep. Who else was there?

“Figured I’d spare you vandalizing your stupid little stick there again.”

“Just wake me up next time.”

“And let you take the credit?”

“Who are you showing off for? You’d put their lives at risk for your ego? For points?”

“I could handle it.”

“This time.”

Wayne stood and turned to get up in Shep’s face before she jabbed at her: “Every. Time. I told you, Shep. I’ve never lost anything.” She stepped back and added with a disarming little shrug and a grin, “Be pretty stupid of me to start now.”

Shep glared into Wayne’s stupid grinning eyes with a bitter grimace for a few heavy breaths, before her frown cracked. There was something in Wayne’s eyes. A waver. A glance. A lie. A weight.

The shepherd’s burden.

Even a hound feels it, then.

It had been a long time since Shep had enough softness in her eyes to ask such a hard question, so instead she just left Wayne alone to deal with what was left of her kill.

While Shep set about packing up her gear, she wondered if there were any notches hidden on the hilt of Wayne’s sword, or if it really did make her better to forget.

Watching Wayne brag about her triumphant kill to Jo, Shep thought better of it – because if that was what better looked like, she’d rather be worse.

[justaragdollysblog]

Experimental

•What happens when an AI attempts to make a wellness shot?•

hello!! i know i’ve been very inactive with fics but i thought of this concept and the inspo hit hard!

also btw i just organized my masterpost hehe

WARNING: Angst, Body Horror (only stuffing), Swearing

———————————————————————-

Abstraction had always been an issue.

An avoidable issue, sure, but a constant pain in Caine’s side, and an ever present looming threat to his cast.

He’d tried for *years* (Had it been years? It sure felt like it.) to make the humans in his eternal care happy! Thrilled! Content, dare he say!

But the cellar was growing overpopulated…and Caine knew he’d have to use every inch of processing power to come up with a solution.

Luckily…he had an in-house serum concocted just for them.

—-

“So…it’s a potion?” Zooble bluntly asked as they held the small vial of neon green liquid.

“Indeed it is, my snickering salami! This little serum will keep your human minds in ship-shape whenever you need it!”

Pomni was inspecting her vial with large pinwheel eyes. “Reminds me of a wellness shot…”

“Or something radioactive,” Gangle added as she tossed the vial around in her ribbons.

Caine simply shook his head. “Nonsense, my dears! This is more than a wellness shot or potion! It’s a comprehensive serum that’ll attend to all of your strange human needs!”

Jax snickered as he popped the cap off the test tube. “You think we’re actually drinking this? For all we know, we’ll end up outside in or something.”

“Yeah…I don’t think this is a good idea.” Pomni conceded, sharing glances with the cast around her.

“Yeah. Count me out as well. I’m not taking some AI generated potion.” Zooble agreed. Gangle only looked away at Caine’s imploring gaze.

“Well…someone has to try it! That’s how we have testing phases! Please, as your ringmaster! Someone has to experiment with this!”

A deafening silence fell over the Tent as Pomni fiddled with the hem of her shorts, and Zooble found the ground more interesting than ever before.

“I’ll do it,” Ragatha suddenly spoke up, her chipper voice cutting through the, including her own, growing unease.

“Oh! Thank you thank you thank you!” Caine dramatically swooned with his head on his forehead (upper jaw?). “You won’t regret this! Now, down the hatch, my sewn sashimi!”

Ragatha nodded and took a deep breath. The eyes of everyone in the room bore into her. It’d be fine! What harm could a little potion do anyways?

An audible pop! of the cap filled the digital air; the green liquid bubbling and sloshing around as if to beckon her.

She raised a shaky hand up to her mouth, closing her one good eye tightly as the liquid found its way down her throat.

“She’s gonna turn into, like, a frog or somethin,” Jax snickered again as he watched Ragatha down the potion like a champ.

Zooble shot him a warning look.

Gangle wrung her hands nervously.

Pomni blinked up at the taller woman.

Kinger’s vacant look was ever present, yet laced with the subtlest veil of worry.

A few coughs later, and the vial lay empty in her plush hands. Ragatha brought a hand to wipe her mouth.

“So…? Are you…feeling anything?” Pomni’s apprehensive voice squeaked out.

“…..No,” Ragatha answered honestly as she pat herself down. She half expected to grow a tail or something similar. “I…don’t feel any different yet.”

“I knew it.” Jax scoffed as he threw down his vial. “Doesn’t do anything. Figures.”

Now, when Ragatha said she didn’t feel any different, that usually holds up even after thr medicine has been ingested.

But time doesn’t obey here; and what was then was certainly not now.

In an instant, Ragatha’s body went taught as a string holding a person in the air; and just as frayed.

She couldn’t move. Why couldn’t she move?

Pomni, Jax, and Zooble were already turning their backs; Gangle and Kinger had went to look at digital ants on the floor.

“G…guys..” Ragatha attempted to call out. But her voice was too strained, too faint…and the self proclaimed scientist himself was nowhere to be found.

All she could do at this moment was dart her eye around wildly: ‘Please’, Ragatha begged in her mind. ‘Please make this stop. Someone…’

But Ragatha didn’t stay immobile for too much longer. Her plush body; once rendered still was now crawling in her seams.

No…it wasn’t crawling. It was pushing.

As if she was growing out of her raggedy body; to escape somewhere she knew she couldn’t. Seams and stitches popped as her body seemed to come undone.

Ragatha fell to her knees, clawing at the floor like a dog unwillingly brought into a cage. Whimpers and shouts ripped from her throat as the fabric unraveled.

Pomni and Jax were the first ones to finally glance over their shoulders.

Gangle and Kinger were next; all of them with the same horrified and disgusted expressions. Jax gagged.

“Oh f[BOINK!]!” he exclaimed as he took a few shaky steps back. “That’s messed up…”

“He…help…!” She finally managed to call out. Jax’s eyes went wide as saucers; Pomni let out a frightened gasp.

“What’s happening to her?!” Zooble shrieked ouy to Caine.

“Oh crumbs…did I mix up that extract with fabric shortener?” Caine hummed; as if he was discussing a shopping list.

Zooble stared incredulously. “How could you ever mix those two up?!”

Meanwhile, Ragatha looked more akin to a pile of fabric than an avatar. Her tan plush (skin?) lay on the ground; her cries and begs almost too much to listen to.

“He..help! Please…! Someone help…!” she begged as stuffing began to pool around her. “Caine! MAKE THIS STOP!”

But he didn’t respond. In fact, he wasn’t there at all.

Had he ran away? Figures he would.

Maybe she deserved this. Everyone always was saying how she got on their nerves….that she was fake….

So, with the world around her blurring together into indiscernible shapes and sounds….

She let her one eye close, lost in a sea of stuffing and yarn.

—

There was something to be said about having to be, quite literally, sewn together.

It was a sensation reserved for only clothes and dolls; objects that couldn’t speak on the feeling if they wanted to.

But Ragatha knew the satisfying feeling all too well.

Prick, pull…

Prick, pull….

Prick…

Pull….

“R-Ragatha…?”

She must’ve been coming to because the rhythmic motion was paused as she blinked blearily at the voice.

The room around her came in blurry shapes and molded colors as Ragatha opened her eyes. Her non-button eye cracked open ever so slightly.

“There you are…” Pomni murmured as she sat the sewing needle down. “I was - we! - were afraid you wouldn’t…wake up.”

Ragatha blinked her eye open once more; attempting to sit up in her bed. Of course, the movement caused a wince and yelp of pain from the patched up doll.

Pomni rushed to her side, gently and firmly guiding her back onto the bed. “Hey, hey..don’t move too fast, okay…?”

“What…” Ragatha croaked out as she met the jester’s soft expression. “What happened with…the serum..?”

Pomni sighed a little and grimaced at the mention. “Caine threw it all out. Apparently, yours was the only one with uh…complications. But…no one wanted to take any chances.”

A weak nod was all she could manage. “As for the rest of you…” Pomni began. “I did what I could. I…I’m not great at sewing, but…I wanted to help.”

And help she did. Ragatha examined her plush body; at least intact again. Scars of seams adorned her where they weren’t before; but at least she wasn’t a heap on the ground anymore.

“You….did all of this for me..?” Ragatha whispered weakly to the smaller woman.

Pomni’s face burned with the slightest ombré of pink. “I…yeah. I thought it was the least I could do.”

As the two sat in the relative quiet and comfort of Ragatha’s room, Ragatha spoke up. “Can we..agree to never try anything Caine makes again?”

Pomni chuckled softly and gently took her hand. “Yeah. Sounds good to me.”

———————————————————————

hey!!! i hope anyone likes this lmao

i just had the idea and i wanted to write it!!

reblogs are appreciated!! see u guys next time!!

[karaswnee]

Abby Anderson’s headcanons

[ NSFW Alphabet ]

[ Abby Anderson as your partner ]

Core Personality

1. She doesn’t like being called strong—it makes her feel like she’s only seen for her body

Everyone comments on her muscles.

She gets it—she worked hard for them.

But sometimes, she wishes someone would say she’s clever.

Or kind, or brave.

Strength is armor, not identity.

2. She has major control issues

If something can be planned, she needs to plan it.

If something can go wrong, she’s already imagined it ten times.

Losing her dad broke her sense of safety—now she controls everything she can to keep from breaking again.

3. She has survivor’s guilt buried deep under anger

She tells herself she’s strong.

That she did what she had to.

That Joel deserved it.

But late at night, she thinks of Yara.

Owen.

Her dad.

Even Joel.

And she wonders if she’s any different than the people who ruined her life.

Trauma & Healing

4. She has nightmares almost every night

Sometimes they’re about Joel.

Sometimes her father.

Sometimes it’s just blood and fire and water.

She doesn’t tell people.

She just wakes up, breathes through her teeth, and starts her day like nothing happened.

5. She secretly hates boats

Even though she traveled across the water to Santa Barbara, the sound of waves reminds her of pain.

Loss.

The day she almost died.

The weight of Owen’s absence.

She still takes boats—but she never lets herself relax on one.

6. The gym is her therapy—but she’s not always kind to herself about it

At first, she lifted to survive.

Then to cope.

Now it’s ritual.

If she skips a workout, she spirals.

It’s not about aesthetics—it’s about control.

Sometimes, she pushes too hard.

Punishes her body for failing her mind.

Relationships & Emotions

7. She was more in love with Owen’s kindness than with Owen himself

Owen made her feel human.

Safe.

Like she could be soft.

She loved him for that—but deep down, she always feared he loved the old her.

The girl who wasn’t so cold.

The one who still believed people could come back from the edge.

8. She’s terrified of letting herself be loved again

Love means vulnerability.

And Abby doesn’t do vulnerability.

Not anymore.

If someone truly saw how broken she is underneath the muscle and mission… they’d run.

At least, that’s what she tells herself.

9. She feels more comfortable with kids than adults

With Lev, she didn’t have to explain herself.

Didn’t have to posture or lie.

She was just there.

Real.

Protective.

Being around someone who needed her reminded her she could still matter—not as a weapon, but as a person.

Habits, Quirks, and Domestic Stuff

10. She collects things she can’t explain

Shells.

Bullet casings.

A burned key.

A broken comb.

Little things that remind her she was there.

That it meant something.

She hides them in a box she never opens unless she’s alone.

11. She braids her hair tighter when she’s angry or anxious

It’s a nervous tic.

She redoes the braid again and again—tighter each time—until it hurts her scalp.

It gives her something to do when she can’t scream.

12. She never finishes her food when she’s upset

Owen used to tease her about it.

Now, even if she’s starving, a sick knot in her stomach will keep her from swallowing more than a few bites when something’s wrong.