#((sometimes it's just about sending a message))

[lovelake]

In which you find out who the person leaving you continuous love letters is and return the gesture

solivan brugmansia x gn!reader | 1.7k wc, fluff, reader is friendly, awkwardness, nervousness, hyugo’s very involved, deryl and geo (briefly, just in the background), tiny implication of masturbation if you squint

note: i felt a little iffy writing about lockers because they’re uni students but that’s how it is in the game so (ᵕ—ᴗ—) this was supposed to be out while most people were still in college (because i think people in the semester system are already out for break) but i didn’t make it in time </3 as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated

masterlist read on ao3

Lately, your existence has been put on the same pedestal as that of everything beautiful in the world.

You’ve been getting love letter after love letter ever since Valentine’s Day. At first, you thought it was some sort of misunderstanding—they got the wrong locker. It wasn’t until certain details in them were specific to you that you finally got the message across. This secret admirer really was yours.

You picked up on quirks in the handwriting after rereading them so many times. Separated letters frequently molded into random strings of cursive. The horizontal lines on the t’s are low, they look like upside down crosses. 

If the writing itself wasn’t sweet enough, there were also doodles left on the margins and corners. Flowers, hearts, and oddly enough, pumpkins. 

Life was more fun with romantic secrecy in the air.

Sometimes it was embarrassing, though. You’d trip, drop a paper, or miss a shot of a wrapper to a trash can—and your mind would immediately go to, did they see that?

The question hovered over your head for months like a cloud. Who are they? 

—

“Don’t eat so close to me,” Sol mumbled to Hyugo, angling himself away as he continued writing. He didn’t want the wind to blow any crumbs onto his paper.

“Another letter? You’re so romantic, Sunny! It almost makes me lose my appetite.”

Yes and no. It was a letter for you, but essentially, it was just a draft for now.

“Do you think it’s working?” Sol asked with a sigh, vulnerability in his question.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t. Have you seen their reaction to finding one in their locker?”

“A couple times.”

“And?”

“They were smiling.” Sol’s own answer prompted a faint one to form on his face.

Love and commitment wove through each and every word until the end result was practically a written serenade for you, and only you.

—

Whether by sheer luck or fate, you didn’t have to do any snooping to find who your secret admirer is. The answer came to you.

“Pass your homework towards the front of the class.”

Stuck in the very first row, you patiently waited until you were tapped on the shoulder and given a stack of completed homework.

As you were making the stack look presentable, you noticed a familiar looking ‘t’ on the title of the last paper. No way. Was the person sending love letters in this class? They had to be sitting at the very back if so.

Knowing their name wouldn’t help, you didn’t know anybody in this class because group activities weren’t required.

Acting nonchalant, you stretched your back from side to side and took the opportunity to look behind you. But you couldn’t really see because of all the people in your way. 

Next idea. You “accidentally” dropped your pencil and leaned over in your chair to catch a glimpse. 

Their head rested snugly against their forearm, you couldn’t see their face. Black and dark green long sleeves, that’s all you were getting. Okay, you could wait until class ended for the mystery to be revealed.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The clock mocked your excitement for approximately fifty-five torturous minutes. 

Class ended, students scrambled.

After quickly gathering your things into your arms, you (not very discreetly) turned around. There was no reason to, there were two doors and you usually went out the front one since it was close to you.

But only in this way were you able to fully look at the person who’s been making even the shittiest of weeks feel better.

Tall, pierced ears and lips, eyelashes that look long even from a distance…

Your secret admirer is handsome in a pretty sort of way. Even so, he looks like someone who would give his crush a necklace with his blood in it rather than lovey-dovey letters. 

You must’ve been awe-struck for too long, time slowed.

As soon as he caught on to your staring (gawking), he immediately walked out of the room, leaving his friend talking to no one. “…and then–huh? Sunny? Sunny! How rude…”

“No fair. You have long legs, you walk faster than me.” Hyugo eventually caught up to Sol. Their lockers were next to one another’s.

Sol’s body felt hot. You had looked at him with intent for the first time ever, not just an accidental glance or something. He tried to compose himself as he opened his locker to put one of his books away.

Were you finally noticing him? He had so much love to offer, all you had to do was embrace the soul that was so willing to give it to you.

“…I have to use the restroom.” He most certainly does not, at least not in the way it’s intended to be used.

In the midst of being over the moon, he failed to see that you were nearby.

You know where his locker is.

Now there’s only two things left to do.

—

i. WRITE HIM A LETTER

Now back at home, you felt insecure. Just a bit. All his letters were beautiful: nice expensive looking paper, sentences all in pen (somehow he never made a single mistake, there were never any words scribbled out), and lived in envelopes that had pretty dark red wax seals prior to you opening them.

Well. You didn’t have any envelopes. Your paper was college ruled with three holes on the left. Your pen was gel-point and smeared when you wrote too fast. And, you didn’t have any white-out in case you made a mistake.

“This is silly.” You tell yourself, shaking away your doubts and picking the pen back up. 

You didn’t harbor the same feelings that he did to you, how could you, when you barely came to know of his existence? Either way, his letters always left you feeling giddy. And who knows, maybe a potential future relationship awaited you.

So, you got to writing. 

ii. DELIVER IT TO HIS LOCKER (GONE WRONG)

Time passed by ever so slowly the next day, it always did when you had something to look forward to. Butterflies ran rampant in your stomach, concentrating in class was hard, especially the one you shared with him.

You waited until the end of school, the letter already in your hand as you (hesitantly) made your way there. If anything, it looked like you were holding a folded graded assignment with a big giant F on it, nobody would suspect it.

“Hey, maybe that’s another letter for you Geo! Your locker’s full again isn’t it? Have you even gone through them?”

“Be quiet.”

They couldn’t be talking about you. They just couldn’t.

Thankfully, those guys turned a corner. It would’ve been awkward if you all kept walking the same way. And who’s Geo, anyway? Is he really that popular?

You leaned against the wall, your other hand preoccupied by your phone as you waited for the after school crowd to die out. Checking the time, you had a tutoring session upstairs in ten minutes.

Eventually, the only footsteps you could hear were distant. Putting your phone away, you swallowed your nerves and approached his locker.

Well, here goes nothing.

You start slipping it in. 

Somehow, your body flinches before your hearing processes anything.

“Woah! Is that a letter for Sunny?”

Shit. 

Wide-eyed, you looked over. The letter was still in your hands, only the tip of it was rammed into the locker ventilation hole. 

Day one of trying to mimic your secret admirer and you already failed. 

Just your luck, his best friend was here too. Even so, you could only focus on him. His expression matched yours, but his was from being incredibly flustered rather than embarrassment from being caught.

You didn’t know what to say, only one word slipped from your lips.

“…Hi.” 

Hi.

Hi?

Hi?!

“Hi!” Hyugo greeted you back with a grin and wave, catching your attention for a split second. Like the good best friend he was, he nudged Sol your way. 

Looks like he was too stunned to talk, you’d have to break the ice more. All the words he held right now, you were sure you’d already read them all.

You brought the letter back down.

“I may have…figured out that you were the person sending me letters. Unless I’m wrong! And in that case I can leave and…” 

“How’d you figure out it was me?” 

Surprisingly, his voice is soft. 

“Because of your t’s.”

“…My t’s?”

“Yeah. You write them differently. Not differently in a bad way! Just…I’ve never really seen anyone write them the way you do.”

One of his brows raised. You thought you offended him until he smiled. That alone put you at ease.

“This is for you,” you handed the letter to him. His fingertips briefly kissed your skin.

The paper didn’t so much as crinkle in his hold, he was being gentle. You were grateful he wasn’t bold enough to start reading it on the spot, you would die.

He opened his locker with his free hand and fetched a crumpled-looking paper. He stammered a bit over his words as he held it out to you. “It’s…It’s not done yet.”

It was a draft full of scribbles and crossed out words. So, he did make mistakes. Just that he worked on a draft before putting everything onto the fancier paper. Somehow, that just made his gestures all the sweeter. 

“I think this one will be my favorite,” you tell him, no sarcasm present.

You were kind and welcoming, exactly what he needed in a world such as this.

"I love-" Sol's overly strong confession was interrupted by Hyugo elbowing him.

Finding a clock on the wall, you curse under your breath. “I have to go catch a tutoring session but it was nice finally meeting you. What’s your name?”

“You can just call me Sol.”

“See you tomorrow, Sol!” 

You repeated his name under your breath over and over to commit it to memory as you walked away. “Sol, Sol, Sol…” 

He was stuck in place, never taking his gaze off you until you turned the corner. Your voice echoed in his head, a catchy melody he would never tire of. 

See you tomorrow, you said. Like you would be talking to him from now on. Like you wouldn’t be put off by him casually approaching you. Like you were friends now.

Hyugo lightly pinched Sol’s arm, he got no response.

Sol looked down at the letter, he was holding something sacred—you put thought into it, something in your possession (your pen) had touched it, your fingerprints were all over it. Does this count as indirect hand-holding?

He needed to read it, and he would, once in private.

“Let me see, let me see!”

“Touch it and I’ll kill you.” 

“…Jeez, and then who’ll clean up all your messes?”

[vingtetunmars]

Silver Springs

Pairing: Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: Years after Corroded Coffin's rise to fame, the band's frontwoman and Eddie Munson — once lovers, now estranged — find their past echoing through every lyric and chord. After a bitter fallout tore them apart, a chance reunion at a music awards gala rekindles old wounds.

tags: Lovers to Strangers to ???, angst, hurt/maybe comfort, possible second chances, Eddie's a bit of an ass but dw he regretted it, she'll follow him down till the sound of her voice will haunt him. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: I was showering when Silver Spring came to shuffle, and I just had to barf it all out before I go down a spiral. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

word count: 3.290

masterlist

1984

You were always louder than the amps.

Not in volume, necessarily, but in presence. In grit. In the way you stared down a crowd with that crooked little smirk before you opened your mouth and sang like the world had done you wrong and you were going to make damn sure it listened. You were all spitfire and heartbreak, leather and chipped black polish, and Eddie Munson thought you were the most electrifying thing to ever walk into his life.

He met you during an open mic night at some dingy bar in Hawkins — before Corroded Coffin was anything more than a few boys dreaming out loud. You stepped onto the stage like it was a throne, borrowed guitar slung over your shoulder, and sang something raw, throat-shaking, and holy.

You didn’t even look at him that night.

He looked at you like a revelation.

He said it first — because of course he did. Three beers in and high off your shared first rehearsal, sweaty and wild in Gareth’s garage with your voices cracking and your fingers bleeding.

“You know you’re trouble, right?” he said, lying on the floor, hair a mess, arm slung over his eyes.

You tilted your head, curled your lip into a grin.

“Only if you get too close.”

He got close.

You didn’t fall in love all at once. It was louder than that. Messier. A series of late-night drives in his van where you argued about song lyrics and made out between takes. Sharing old Walkmans and trading off headphones. Whispering melodies into each other’s mouths when sleep wouldn’t come.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair one night, quiet as a secret, scared like it might jinx something.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered back, but your fingers were in his curls and your cheek was pressed to his chest, listening to the way his heart kicked.

Sometimes you’d be backstage, just before the lights hit, his hand squeezing yours. He didn’t need to say it every time — the way he looked at you said enough. Like you were the beat that kept time. Like you were the reason any of this felt real.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he'd ask, teeth flashing, eyes gleaming.

“Always,” you’d grin, adjusting the mic. “Don’t fuck up the solo this time.”

He never did. Not when you were singing.

You were chaos and stardust, he used to say. A storm in black eyeliner. The voice of Corroded Coffin, the girl who stood shoulder to shoulder with him in every photo and never flinched when the spotlight got hot.

It was good. It was so good.

And maybe that’s why it still lingers, even now — like the ringing in your ears after a show, like smoke on your clothes, like a song you wrote together that you can’t bear to listen to anymore.

But you’re not there yet.

Not quite.

Right now, it's still the early days. Fingers tangled in guitar strings. Eyes locked over crowded bars. Two kids in love, chasing noise and fire and fame, and thinking it would always be enough.

“I’m gonna marry you one day,” he whispered, voice hoarse from screaming and weed and maybe too much wanting.

“You better,” you breathed, and kissed him so hard your teeth knocked.

2003

Eddie Munson hadn’t thought about the band in weeks.

Not in the way he used to, anyway. Not with urgency, not with that gnawing need to make noise until the world listened. These days, it was contracts and appearances and the occasional reunion show when the money was good enough and the nostalgia ran deep.

Corroded Coffin had been something. Sold-out tours. Magazine covers. A platinum record that still hung on the wall in his home studio, half-covered by dust and a denim jacket he hadn’t worn in a decade. There was a time when they couldn’t walk down the Sunset Strip without someone yelling their names.

But that was a long time ago. And you? You’d been gone even longer.

He didn’t know where you were now — not exactly. He knew the cities. The setlists. The way your solo career took off like a lit fuse, how critics called you “a voice made of gasoline and god,” how the world found in you what he already knew. What he used to have.

Eddie didn’t listen to the radio much anymore. Too risky.

But the van was on its last legs, and the aux cable had finally died for good, so he was stuck with FM, flipping through static and commercials as he took the long drive up the coast. Maybe to clear his head. Maybe to escape it.

He was halfway through a sharp turn, Pacific glittering to the left, when it happened.

That voice.

Your voice.

Soft at first. Just a breath. Then a note — long and low, curling at the edges like smoke.

He gripped the wheel tighter.

He almost swerved.

It was that song. The one from your third solo album. The one the public picked apart like vultures, trying to find which lyric meant him. They never needed to guess. He knew. He always knew.

Because you wrote it the way you lived: no filter, no mercy.

He turned the volume down, but not off.

It was masochism, maybe. Or maybe it was penance.

You sounded older. Not in a bad way. Just… lived-in. Weathered. Like someone who’d survived the kind of love that scars.

And god, did he miss you.

Not just the you who kissed him backstage, or finished his sentences in interviews. He missed the fighter in you. The fire-eyed, foul-mouthed girl who spit lyrics like knives and made every stage feel like the center of the goddamn universe.

You’d burned so brightly. He should’ve gone blind.

Instead, he let you leave.

And now you haunted him in every melody, every lonely drive, every radio signal strong enough to carry your voice across the coast like a curse.”

He pulled over.

Parked at the edge of a lookout, engine ticking, chest tight.

He let the last notes play out. Let the silence settle.

You were still following him. Maybe always would.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t reach to turn the dial.

1998

It started with a song.

Like most things between you and Eddie.

Rehearsal had already gone long. Too many late nights. Too many new eyes on the band. The label breathing down their necks, looking for the next hit. The tour looming. The air thick with pressure. Eddie’s knee bounced restlessly on the amp he was sitting on, fingers tapping out a rhythm even though they’d been playing for hours.

You were standing at the center of the room, boots planted, mic cord coiled like a whip around your wrist.

“You’re flatting it again,” he muttered, not looking up.

You stared at him. “No, I’m not. I changed the phrasing — it’s intentional.”

“Well, it sounds off. The chorus loses punch. The whole hook feels—” He waved a hand vaguely. “—detached.”

You blinked. “It’s supposed to hurt, Eddie. Not everything has to be a punch. Sometimes people just bleed.”

Gareth, Jeff, and Doug exchanged glances, silent.

Eddie stood up. “You’re too in your head about this one. It’s a single. Not a therapy session.”

That was the first blow.

You flinched like he’d slapped you. “Is that what you think this is? Just me being sad with a guitar?”

“I think you’ve been turning every verse into a fucking diary entry,” he snapped, jaw tight. “And it’s getting old.”

Your breath caught.

“Oh, right. God forbid I actually feel something,” you spat. “Sorry I can’t be a caricature of your perfect riot girl fantasy anymore.”

It was personal now. Everyone knew it. They always danced around it, pretended the tension in the studio was just artistic friction. But the truth was—it hadn’t been just music for a long time.

You stepped closer, voice low. “You want a puppet, Eddie? Someone who’ll smile for the cameras and sing your lyrics and shut up when you take all the credit?”

His eyes snapped to yours. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Twist this into some goddamn betrayal.”

You scoffed. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who said I was nothing without this band.”

Eddie’s face darkened.

“That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.” Your voice cracked then — barely. Just enough. “You don’t think I see it? How you’ve been freezing me out since LA? How every time I bring in a song it’s suddenly not 'Coffin enough'?”

“Because it’s not!” he shouted, finally exploding. “It’s you! It’s all you, all the time — it’s not a band anymore, it’s a goddamn solo project featuring the rest of us! And maybe—maybe that’s all you ever wanted.”

Silence.

Even the amps seemed to hum nervously.

You stared at him, eyes wide and stung. And then you laughed. But there was no joy in it.

“I begged you to work on that song with me,” you said, quiet. “I waited for hours while you got high in the parking lot. I covered for you when you forgot lyrics on stage. I believed in you when no one else gave a shit about this band, Eddie.”

He didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

“And all this time,” you went on, breath shaking, “you were just waiting for the moment I got too big for you.”

The silence stretched. Jeff shifted awkwardly, but no one spoke.

Finally, you nodded to yourself. Like the final note had hit.

You unwound the mic cord from your wrist, set it down gently on the amp beside you.

“Okay,” you said. No dramatics. No tears. Just finality.

You turned, grabbed your jacket, and walked.

Gareth started to move — maybe to call after you. Maybe to stop you.

But Eddie didn’t.

He didn’t say a word.

Not then.

They played one last show together.

Not officially — not that anyone knew it at the time — but everyone felt it.

The venue was packed, lights low and golden, the air thick with heat and screaming fans. But backstage, no one was screaming. No one was even speaking. Except for Gareth, maybe, trying to crack a joke that didn’t land.

You wouldn’t look at him.

Eddie kept his guitar in his lap, fingers picking a riff he didn’t even realize he was playing. The setlist hadn’t changed. The songs were the same ones they always played. But something else was loaded in the air, like stormclouds hiding just behind the amps.

And when they got to that song — the one you wrote about him, for him, against him — the audience felt it.

Every note. Every glance. Every sharp intake of breath.

It started with your voice — steady but biting, like you had something clenched in your teeth. You didn’t sing to the crowd. You sang at him. Your eyes found his, once, and didn’t flinch. The way your mouth wrapped around every lyric was more like a warning than a performance.

And when it came time for his part — the backup line that was never meant to be loud — he stepped forward into the mic.

He didn’t harmonize. He fought.

They weren’t singing anymore. They were shouting in tune.

Like every word was a dagger, every verse a memory dragged back from the grave.

It wasn’t just heartbreak. It was defiance. It was betrayal. It was two people who still loved each other in ways that hurt too much to hold.

And everyone saw it.

Even now, fans talk about that night like it was folklore. They say you could feel the stage crack under the weight of them. That it wasn’t music — it was a breakup set to distortion. That her voice had never sounded so sharp. That his never sounded so wounded. That you could watch their history bleed through every lyric, every gaze that almost met and then didn’t.

After the final chord rang out, she left the stage first.

No wave. No bow.

Just gone.

And the next morning, you were too.

Eddie would never forget the sound of your boots echoing down the hallway, or how you didn’t even take your leather jacket.

That performance would be the last time they stood side by side.

And the world wouldn’t stop replaying it.

2004

You didn’t want to be here.

The makeup, the flashbulbs, the champagne that tasted like coins. You hadn’t walked a red carpet in four years — not since the last album, not since you decided your voice didn’t need a face to haunt people. But your team insisted. A legacy award. A lifetime achievement thing. You weren’t even forty, but they called you iconic now, which usually meant still alive, but no longer a threat.

The dress was black. Sleek. Simple. You never liked frills. Your eyeliner was heavier than usual, a silent act of defiance. You stayed near the edge of the crowd during the afterparty, cradling a whiskey neat in one hand, eyes drifting between velvet curtains and industry ghosts.

That’s when he showed up.

One of those golden boys — platinum records, model exes, cheekbones sharp enough to slice through ego. He sauntered over like he’d won something.

“Didn’t think you were real,” he said, offering a smile like it was a business card. “Thought you were some kind of myth.”

You gave him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. “Disappointed?”

He laughed. A little too loud. Definitely a little drunk.

“Nah. You’re better than the stories.” He leaned in slightly. “But I gotta ask—what’s it take to get a legend like you to come out of hiding?”

You took a sip of your drink, slow. Let the silence stretch. He wasn’t used to that.

“A good reason,” you said flatly. “This barely qualified.”

His grin faltered for a second. Not enough to make him quit — just enough to make him recalibrate. He leaned against the wall beside you like he belonged there.

“You know, I used to have posters of you in my room,” he added, fishing for a reaction. “You were kind of my first heartbreak.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s unfortunate. You should pick better crushes.”

“I don’t know,” he said, trying for charming. “I’ve always had a thing for complicated.”

You tilted your head, something colder sliding into your expression. “Then you’d love my discography. It’s full of people who wanted the fantasy, not the fallout.”

His smile cracked then, just a little. You looked away, eyes drifting to the ceiling like you could ignore the glitter and the chatter and the weight of everything this place used to mean.

“Sorry,” he said, quieter now. “Didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”

You shook your head. “You didn’t.”

You just weren’t interested.

Because in the corners of your mind — even now, years and lifetimes and lovers later — there was still him.

The boy who played guitar like he was exorcising demons. The man who let you walk away because neither of you knew how to hold on without breaking everything else. The ghost you carried in every song, every verse that ended in silence instead of resolution.

And no amount of charm from a stranger could scrape that out of your chest.

“I should go,” you said, already walking away.

You didn’t look back.

And you thought of him.

Still.

Always.

You were across the room before he even realized what gravity felt like again.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see you tonight. He hadn’t even known you’d be here — nobody ever knew with you. You didn’t do red carpets anymore. No late-night talk shows. No surprise features or industry dinners. you voice stayed, sure — in soundtracks and charts and in his fucking head — but you youself? you had vanished from the public eye like a magician pulling off one last trick.

But there you were.

A black dress. A sharp line of eyeliner. Whiskey in your hand and that same steel in your posture, like no one could touch you unless you let them. Everyone else in the room blurred into wallpaper the moment you entered.

And god, you looked like something he used to pray for. Still did, sometimes, by accident.

He found himself walking toward you before he had time to second guess it.

When you looked up and saw him, your eyes didn’t widen. No gasp. No drama. Just a stillness — like something old settling into place.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” he said, once he was close enough to speak without an audience.

You sipped your drink. “Didn’t think you’d still remember me.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You wrote yourself into every radio. Kinda hard to forget.”

You tilted your head slightly. “That’s not what I meant.”

He nodded. “I know.”

A beat passed. The air between them felt almost too full to breathe.

“I heard your speech,” he added. “It was… good.”

“You mean short.”

He shrugged. “Poetic.”

You cracked a faint smile. That old kind — the one that didn’t show up in press photos or magazine spreads, the one only a few people in the world ever earned.

“It’s weird,” you said after a moment, softer now. “Being here. Letting people look at me again.”

“They never stopped,” Eddie said. “They just didn’t know where to look.”

You glanced around the room — not knowing how to react — then back at him.

“You still write?”

“Bits and pieces. Mostly for other people now.”

“That’s a shame,” she said. “You were always better when it was yours.”

“You still sing like you’re trying to save your own soul,” he said, and she looked away — like it hit too close.

You glanced at him then — really looked. Like you’d just remembered how.

“You hurt me,” you said. No venom. Just the truth.

“I know,” he said again. Softer. “I hurt me too.”

That surprised you — just a flicker in your eyes, like a memory resurfacing.

“I didn’t stop you,” he continued. “That’s what I’ve been stuck on for years. You walked, and I just… let you.”

You didn’t say anything.

So he kept going.

“I thought if I said something, if I begged you to stay, it would’ve made it worse. Like admitting how much I needed you would break what little we had left.”

“Maybe it would’ve,” you whispered. “But at least it would’ve been honest.”

He nodded, jaw tense.

“Do you regret it?” you asked suddenly.

“All the time,” he said without hesitation. “But not the music. Never the music.”

That made you smile. Barely. But it was there.

“I never said I was sorry,” he said quietly. “Back then.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I did.” He looked at you, honest and wrecked. “I should’ve said something. Anything. I should’ve stopped you.”

your jaw clenched slightly. “I don’t know if I would’ve let you.”

“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I still should’ve tried.”

Something in your face cracked then — just a flicker. Not pain, not anger. Just recognition. Like a ghost brushing your shoulder and whispering, you’re not the only one who remembers.

They stood there for a moment, years layered between them like sediment.

The gala hummed around them — clinking glasses, polite laughter, a distant jazz band trying its best.

Finally, you said, “I don’t know what this is.”

“Me neither.”

“But it doesn’t feel like nothing.”

He smiled. Not the stage kind. The old kind.

“No,” he said. “It never did.”

you finished the last sip of you drink, then set the glass down on a tray.

And before you turned away, before you left him standing in the hum of chandeliers and chance, you said—

“Maybe we start with a conversation.”

And he nodded, heart catching in his throat.

“I’d like that.”

A beginning. Again.

Maybe.

[nondelphic]

I'm too shy to post this not on anon, but I need you to know that your posts literally inspired me to start writing again.

I used to write almost everyday for 3 years, and then life happened, and then I stopped for about 8. Got the itch so many times over the years but foolishly thought, "I've lost my skill, that phase of my life is over, I can't start writing again." Then I opened Tumblr, and I saw one your posts randomly about two weeks ago.

I've written like... 6,000 words in the past week after not writing more than a few incomplete paragraphs of creative fiction for years. I look at the Doc and still can't believe all those words came from me.

Sometimes when I lost motivation (which was more often than not), I skimmed through your posts again and the comments other writer's left on them. And I realized that you have to write that first draft bad and frightened to death or not write it at all. So I wrote it. And I wanted to thank you truly and deeply from the bottom of my heart for helping me summon the courage to.

anon 😭😭😭 my whole heart just crumpled like a napkin. thank you so much for sending this. i’m just sitting here staring at the wall because i don’t have the words to say how much this means.

the fact that you, who thought your writing days were oversat down and wrote 6,000 words after years of silence??? that’s fucking magical. that’s cinematic. that’s the comeback of the century!!!!! i’m so proud of you it’s ridiculous (´；ω；｀)

you didn’t "lose" motivation. you didn't lose anything. your writing bones were just sleeping. and now they’re stretching and cracking their knuckles and going "alright. time to begin again."

thank you for trusting me with this message. thank you for writing!!! please keep going. even if it’s messy. even if it’s terrifying. especially then!!!!

sending love & inspiration to you and everyone else reading this !! <333

[learnelle]

.

[vampzity]

sfw alphabet with felix

pairing: bf! felix x f! reader

💌: i seen this on my feed and wanted to give it a try! the sfw ones are soo cute, maybe ill do a nsfw one later hehe. this has been sitting in my drafts for a bit so enjoy!

a — affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

felix makes sure you’re loved every second of the day. he goes out of his way to tell you he loves you, send you sweet messages when you guys aren’t together and bake you brownies for absolutely no occasion. he gets shy expressing how he feels at first, but it eventually becomes 2nd nature to him.

b — beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

believe it or not he’s very honest. i mean he’s a virgo, what do you expect? whenever you need advice, he’ll give you the honest truth but still supports you no matter what decision you decide to make. you’d start being friends after being partnered up in culinary and he’s telling you that you’re baking the brownies all wrong haha

c — cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

felix loves to cuddle; whether that’s in bed, on the couch. he loves to be spooned by you as it gives him a sense of security. though he has no problem spooning you either. he’ll give you small pecks on your back and shoulder, snuggling his head into your back. even on the couch, he loves laying his head in your lap so you can play with his hair. it puts him to sleep so quickly.

d — domestic (does he want to settle down? how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

yes!!! felix has waited for the day he’s met “the one” to which he thinks that’s you. he’s sweating, hes nervous, he’s a hot mess trying to propose to you, but in the end it’s all worth it. he’s gotta be the best cook— in fact, he gets mad when you cook for him as he believes it should be the other way around. he’ll clean when needed and when asked, though he always feels you do a better job of it than him. He absolutely hates washing dishes after cooking though, which is why you do them.

e — ending (if he had to break up with you, how would he do it?)

he wouldn’t want to, it would literally kill him inside just thinking about breaking your heart. he would make sure you were comfortable, and that this is a decision the two of you truly wanted. he’d let you down easy, but still showing and giving you as much comfort as you need then and there. he knew it was hard for him, but it may be even harder on you.

f — fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

felix tends to be clingy to the one he loves. however he doesn’t want you to feel rushed into committing either. he’ll take it at your pace, understand what you do and don’t want, and accept if you aren’t ready for such a big step at all. although sometimes, nothing is holding him back.

g — gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

felix cares a lot for the people he loves. if you’re crying and need a shoulder, he’s there. when you want a hug, he’s there to wrap you like a blanket. he’s sure to lay soft kisses on your forehead before he leaves, he’ll run his thumb across your hand whenever you to sit in front of the tv he’s never been the aggressive type or the overly outgoing boyfriend. being home with you was his favorite type of night.

h — hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

oh he LOVES hugs! before you leave, before he leaves, before bedtime, even when either of you get home. he’s quick to hug you and he’ll hug you tight, like he hasn’t seen you in days. sometimes he just hugs you for no reason, just so he can bury his head into your neck and take in your sweet scent

i — i love you (how fast does he say i love you?)

it takes him a bit to say it, as he doesn’t want to push you or make you feel rushed in your relationship. however, he can’t hold himself back. he’s emotional, and he feels so much love toward you that he just can’t help but tell you right away.

j — jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

felix doesn’t like to show his jealousy. when he does get jealous, he keeps it to himself, however has no issues making snarky comments. a guy is offering you a drink from the bar? “can you even afford her taste?” a guy is complimenting your outfit? “thanks i paid $XXX.XX for it.” he didn’t like others thinking they coukd have their way with you. not when he already had it.

k — kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

felix loves giving you small pecks. anywhere. the nose, forehead, cheek, collarbones, palm. it was his way of showing you he loved you genuinely. sometimes they’re more sensual, the biting of your lip, a small tongue graze. he loves it when you kiss his cheeks and collarbone. his collarbone is so sharp, how couldn’t you admire it.

l — little ones (how is he around children?)

oh he loves them! it makes him feel like a child himself as he runs around playing tag, drawing on the side walk with chalk or even playing video games with them. he’s very soft with kids, and often lets them get their way as he can feel bad for them. he’d make a great dad— we’ve all seen that one video with him and chan..

m — morning (how are mornings spent around him?)

felix makes it a task to wake up earlier than you. especially when you work; he’ll make sure to have breakfast ready for you and your lunch already packed so you had enough time to eat breakfast with him. a few minutes before you wake up, he’d start running the shower to make sure the water was warm and on cold days he’d start your car so it was warm when you got in. most days, he’d even offer being your chauffeur. even if you didn’t work, it was the same cycle; making breakfast, taking care of the pets/children, and letting you sleep in.

n — night (how are nights spent with him?)

felix loves to eat dinner with you. it makes him feel closer with you as you two can share how your day was with each other. he even loves to shower with you; it doesn’t have to be anything sexual, it’s just the intimacy that makes him feel close with you. he loves to clean you, letting you stand there as he does all the work. however, he respects you wanting to shower alone too. he often offers to start running the water for you everytime. you two would lay in bed together, cuddling, speaking as either of you drifted off the sleep.

o — open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

it takes him a bit of time to open up— as he doesn’t wanna burden you. when he eventually does, it comes in small waves, things that perhaps trigger him to open up to you as he’s getting comfortable. and when he finally is? you cannot get him to shut up about his vulnerability LMAO

p — patience (how easily angered is he?)

felix can be pretty patient with you. he doesn’t like to start arguments or even argue with you. however when it comes to things that genuinely upset him, it can set him off just a bit. felix doesn’t like to take it out on you, but if he does he apologizes immediately.

q — quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail or is he forgetful?)

oh he remembers everything! from your favorite color, to your favorite holiday dish. even the name of your first pet. it’s important to him— cherishing the little things about you.

r — remember (what’s his favorite moment in the relationship?)

the day you both planned to tell each other how you felt. you both met up in a park— hands sweaty, clouds just a bit grey as you stood in front of each other. you both stuttered, insisting the other went first. just for you both to say it at the same time.

s — security (how protective is he; does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

felix doesn’t let anyone hurt you. he’s always looking out for you— not afraid to speak his kind when someone is rude to you or hurts your feelings. he’s usually a few steps ahead, making sure to keep anything you may need on hand. felix is a little sensitive, so expect to protect him quite often. there may be times where you have to reassure him and keep harmful comments away from him.

t — try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, everyday tasks etc?)

felix loves to plan dates! however anniversaries stress him out compared to normal dates. he still tries to put in his effort and make it as memorable as he can. He does the most to make sure you only have to do a little— cleaning up, making dinner, taking care of the kids/pets so you don’t have to. especially on days where you’re tired or on your monthly. if he had extra time, (either dates or anniversaries) he’ll make it a little fun game for you to find him. leaving you small notes or picking out the outfit for you to wear.

u — ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

he tends to spam you with pictures. and not jsut any pictures, literally random pictures. selfies, food, nature, random things on the street— there’s no telling what he’ll send you. he also tends to be hard on himself about his diet but you try to remind him that he’s perfect the way he is constantly. sometimes he just needs a little extra reminder.

v — vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

he tends to worry a lot about his body, wondering if he’s slim enough, if he’s gotten too fat. he’ll wonder if his face is too puffy and often come to you for a lifting of his spirits. of course you always do— you tell him he’s perfect the way he is, that he doesn’t need to change for anyone and no one should be forcing him to.

w — whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

100%!! you’re like his other half and he feels like a better version of himself with you. you keep him grounded, you make him feel things he’s never felt before. if he didn’t have you, everyrhing would feel out of place.

x — xtra (random headcanon for him)

the sweet quiet blonde boy who helps run his family’s bake shop. he absolutely adores you, infant always looks forward to seeing you come in to try something new. he has the biggest crush on you, and tries to find subtle ways to show it. acknowledge his feelings please !!

y — yuck (what are some things he wouldn’t like in general or in a partner?)

he doesn’t like liars, or people who try to pretend they’re someone they’re not. felix wants 100% honesty in his relationship, and doesn’t appreciate it when his partner tries to hide things behind his back.

z — zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

felix loves to cuddle. he’ll turn over and wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer to his body for some comfort and warmth. It helps him sleep better. when you’re not here he’ll take one of your plushies— because of course it smells like you, and sleep with it. it brings him some comfort, but of course not the same as if you were there. he usually sleeps through the night, waking up early to make you breakfast. though he never minds a small nap time with you either.

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[amywritesthings]

hi amy!!

you have such a talent for writing and I love your works, they’re just the best!! i hope you’ve been feeling better amidst your recovery too, sending you my love🫶🏼🫶🏼

if you’re still taking requests for your endo awareness month, I wondered if you’d have any interest in doing a fic where reader does Levi’s hair for him or vice versa? Like just a quick trim or even styling it LOL. I find doing someone’s hair to be such an intimate and sweet bonding moment and thought it would potentially be a cute addition to one of ur series or just a stand alone blurb!! thanks for considering, stay happy and healthy❤️🥰

-E 🤗🤗

HELLO, E!!! So sorry for the delay with this very kind message and adorable request!! It sparked my inspiration tonight, so here’s a little ficlet under the cut (set in the universe of silver underground, because this feels very james/levi to me - hope that’s okay!) xo

pairing: levi ackerman x f!underground city reader word count: 600+ warnings: none, just some teasing & rare teenage fluff set in the underground city!

“It’s not brain surgery.”

The second the words leave his lips, your eyes — acutely focused on a wayward strand of black hair that’s much longer than the rest — narrow to a glare.

And when your eyes meet his, the corner of his lip twitches.

Smug bastard.

Clipping the piece of wet hair between your index and middle finger, you point the tip of the small scissors menacingly at his nose.

“It’s about to be if you don’t let me finish this up.”

“Harsh.”

“You started it.”

He exhales a gentle huff akin to a tch. “Fair.”

After living with Levi and Furlan for two years — not to mention Isabel for less than one — it isn’t uncommon to take turns cutting each other’s hair. Just like any other clean-up chore, it’s easier when someone else can eye the back of your head for you.

(Though the razor you’ve been using to fade Levi’s undercut is dulling. He might need to start growing it out, wild, like your other cohorts.)

As much as Levi trusts them with his life, though — he specifically requests for your hand. According to him, he’s particular about who holds a blade up to his face.

Furlan has never taken offense. 

Isabel, as always, seems to side-eye the specificity.

You say nothing.

(You always say nothing, especially when it comes to him.)

“Apparently people pay for these up on the surface,” you continue as you snip the strand, making sure it’s even with the other side you’ve trimmed up.

“What, haircuts?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds stupid to throw coins at.”

“I wouldn’t say it was stupid,” you retort airily as you continue to measure the length of the fringe in his face. “Not when you have the coin to do it. I think I’d shell out.”

It’s grown long, almost too long — if he kept putting this off for another week, then it stands to reason he could use one of Isabel’s hair ties. Even his undercut has grown out, its edges licking the nape of his neck. 

If anything, it makes him look boyish; a stolen childhood returned.

His abrupt question cuts through the warmth spreading through your chest. “Why?”

“Because sometimes you cut unevenly.”

Managing to say such a flippant statement out without giving away your joke is a mighty feat, but you stay strong—

And if the abrupt offense tightening in his face is any indicator, Levi’s taken the playful bait. His eyes narrow in return, and in an act of defiance, he blows the long, wet strand from his face.

“Excuse me?”

“Hey!” you yelp with feigned annoyance. “Rude. I’m gonna have to do that section again.”

“Not my problem,” he replies without skipping a beat. “Say it. I’ve never cut anyone’s hair unevenly.”

“Are you sure?”

“James.”

Although the front of his hair is still long, you can see the way his brows slide high to his hairline with the expectations of a surrender.

“I’ve never.”

“Uh-huh.”

Pursing your lips to avoid a smile, you comb the front of his hair back to its original state before cutting a few of the final pieces, finally revealing most of Levi’s blue-gray gaze once more.

“Never.”

You can see the gears turning.

His eyes shimmer as they take yours in — left, right, then left again — before the realization hits. The intensity of his expression softens, though the ghost of a scowl remains.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Only a little,” you confess, flicking the freshly-cut lock to the small wastebin on the floor by his boot, “so stop moving before you end up with a cut as lopsided as Furlan's."

There: a tiny smile finally forms on his lips.

"Heard."

[kenqo]

rin itoshi who secretly really really loves you (..◜ᴗ◝..)

he tries to put on a very stern, closed off persona, like he hates everything. and everyone, including you, are just half baked losers- but that’s actually far from it. you see, rin actually.. really loves you. despite how distant he could be at sometimes, he made sure you knew how loved you were by him at the end of the day.

even if that meant just sending you messages while he was away like, ‘i love you sososo much. going to sleep. goodnight my lovely’ yep, he uses those types of nicknames 100%.

he would do your laundry when you were on your period or having a bad day- give you a soothing massage if you were sore.. of course you reciprocated, by offering him a massage back, or even making him a well cooked meal for being such a good boyfriend to you. he even put up with your mood swings!

you saw the side of him nobody else ever got to see, the affectionate side. the side that he can crack a smile on and laugh.

he notices everything about you, from the way you touch your hair when you’re bored to the way your eyes widened when you talked about something you liked, even the quirks you had that he thought were stupid. (he loved them actually.)

he’s so beyond grateful for you. you realized this when after a game, he walked right up to you and just buried his head in your shoulder, “thank you for coming..” he whispers in your ear, he was still warming up to the idea of pda in public, but no doubt he liked it.

“..you feel loved by me right..?” he asks you, getting a bit vulnerable in this moment as he felt your hand softly caress his scalp. “of course i do,” you respond, smiling at his behavior.

“good.. i was just.. making sure you know that.” and just like that, he’s back to being mister “cool guy”

“let’s go- c’mon,” he grabs your hand and almost drags you with him— but you knew at the end of the day he did really like you. even if he would ignore you at times when re watching a match he played in— he still made up for it by coming up to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek and mumbling, “sorry.. i was watching one of my games.”

he’s definitely gotten better at communication.

© kenqo - do not plagiarize / translate my work

requests are open!!! request anything plz

i genuinely love fluff sm

this was also rushed sorry guys

[leejenowrld]

my love letter for ‘back to you’ and to all of you

it’s been two days since i posted the final chapter of back to you, and i still don’t think there are words big enough for what this feels like. maybe there never will be. i’ve been sitting with it, letting it echo in the quiet spaces, feeling every laugh, every scar, every stolen sunrise this story gave me. i’m emotional, i’ll be honest. my eyes sting every time i think about these characters, this universe, and the way you all held it with me. it feels impossible to say goodbye, so i won’t. i can’t. this was never meant to be a farewell.

writing this story was never gentle. it was never easy. it was born from everything i never said, everything i was too afraid to feel out loud. every single word is a piece of my heart, sometimes splintered, sometimes sewn back together. i didn’t plan for the pain to go so deep, or for the joy to bloom so bright. i didn’t know mark and areum’s loss would shatter me as i wrote it, or that healing would look the way it did, broken, slow, then suddenly full of light again. i didn’t expect the weight of taeyong’s death to ripple out the way it did, or that the story would linger so long in the ache of four years lost between jeno and y/n, the stretch of silence and distance that almost became forever. i didn’t foresee taesun’s brief, beautiful life breaking me open on the page, or how writing those tiny hands and bright hopes would change what i thought grief could hold. if you wept, i wept first. if you felt seen, it’s because i wrote until i saw myself in every crack, across every long night, every family dinner, every fight and forgiveness and trembling reunion, every goodbye that became a second chance. every character, every heartbreak, every moment of joy, i lived it all alongside you.

please, take this series gently, let it move through you slow and soft, and let it be a kindness to yourself. this world is heavy with all the truths i never wanted to leave unsaid, full of every secret and every quiet hope i tucked into its corners. it’s the gentle closing of so many arcs, and the windows thrown open for whatever your own story holds next. these characters are as real to me as anyone i’ve ever known; they changed me, and i hope in some small way they change you too. more than anything, i hope back to you becomes a place of comfort, a story you can return to on any night you need softness, a universe that welcomes you home for as many rereads as you ever want. let it be your safe place, always.

the universe outgrew me. it became a wild garden i just tried to keep up with, a universe too alive to control. what started as a single story spun into a constellation, families tangled, lovers lost and found, betrayals forgiven and not, and second chances blooming where nothing else would grow. if you find loose threads, if you still have questions, good. the ask box is open for a reason. please, fill it. ask about the ones who slipped between the lines, nahyun and her haunted legacy, the cold shadow of her father, jihyo’s quiet courage, how the babies love and how they receive love, yangyang’s mystery and the love that almost slipped through his fingers. i want every question, every theory, every ache. this world isn’t done growing, not even now.

this universe has become so much more than a story. it’s a home. every time you reread, every time you think about the characters that are so adored and loved, please keep the story alive. please, don’t let it end. keep coming back, even if i’m posting new things, even if years pass and the world feels different. back to you will always be here, exland, infinite and welcoming, waiting for you to find your way home. and please believe me when i say: this is not goodbye. i refuse to close the door on this world. message me, comment, reblog, send asks, tell me what you’re feeling every time you reread, what you’re wondering, what you want to see. reread, fall in love again, help me keep every heartbeat alive. if you keep loving it, it will never die. even if you don’t reread and curiosity gets the best of you, you know where my inbox is !!!

to every single character—this is my love letter to you.

y/n: a lighthouse singing to every lost ship, you carve melodies into silence and turn your scars into stars, a mother who builds kingdoms out of tenderness and flame. your voice is a key, unlocking doors for every soul shut out in the cold, a verse that turns loneliness into legacy. your love—bold, unyielding, eternal—makes every dark room brighter, every broken piece holy.

jeno: the storm that learned to kneel in a sunbeam, hands inked with old numbers and new vows, you run until the world bends soft around you. your heart, stitched together from splinters and sweat, beats like thunder for every child who never knew safety until you. on the court or in the quiet, you choose gentleness again and again, turning old pain into new devotion.

junseo: sunrise in a boy’s body, gold-lashed and wide-eyed, you are hope made tangible, the fresh page every family aches to write on. you give away your heart with every small kindness, every hand you hold, every giggle echoing down the hall. you are the future—sweet and unafraid, the answer to every prayer that was whispered in the dark.

serin: a comet in baby form, wild light and honeyed laughter, you spin chaos into joy and make rebellion look holy. your hands are full of glitter, your pockets full of dare, always pulling the others into your orbit. forgiveness tumbles from your mouth faster than anger; you burn and rebuild every day.

mark: the oak tree grown from a single, stubborn acorn, you anchor everyone in a storm, roots tangled in the old ache of loyalty. your laugh is the sound of doors opening, your silence the shelter that keeps everyone safe. you choose love, every day, even when your heart cracks open to let the light in.

areum: the lens through which every broken thing finds its beauty, you gather shattered light and thread it into stories worth keeping. your hands know the shape of grief and how to soften it, arranging loss into bouquets for the living. you are the archivist of hope, memory’s gentle keeper, forever making space for love that never dies.

taesun: the wish whispered between breaths, a heartbeat too brief, you live on in lullabies and the empty space at the table. every dream your family has is a doorway you left open, every sky a canvas you painted with invisible stars. you are absence that aches, presence that soothes, the reason the night always feels a little warmer.

chaeun: the petal that never wilts, gentle as morning dew, you cry when laughter gets too loud, then reach for a hand to hold. your sweetness is the balm, your patience the quiet spell that makes every storm pass softer. you are the thread that mends, the hush between heartbeats, loving with the kind of sincerity that makes the world slow down.

jaemin: the sunrise dad, all honeyed warmth and gentle teasing, arms always open for every lost child and every new beginning. your laughter builds a home before the bricks are even set, your patience a harbor for every small soul who drifts your way. in every bedtime story, you stitch hope into sleep and give your daughter a forever place to land.

haeun: moonbeam in a yellow dress, laughter like windchimes, you walk through the world with impossible wonder, loving until you overflow. you speak in a language of light, healing wounds you can’t see, kissing the air for brothers you never met. your spirit is made of gold ribbon and second chances, every day a new beginning, every night a wish sent to the stars.

karina: the prism girl, reflecting everyone’s secret colors, you move like poetry through a crowded room, unafraid to burn or be burned. every look is a secret shared, every word a door left ajar, you gather broken pieces and call them art. loyalty is your backbone; you are the storm and the shelter all at once.

shotaro: the heartbeat of the dance floor, a sunbeam in sneakers, every joy you feel is contagious, every sorrow short-lived. you build family in circles and song, laughter your native tongue, forgiveness your fallback. when you move, you teach everyone else how to fly.

ryujin: steel spun into grace, you cut through silence with a single look, never letting fear be the end of your story. you are a hand on a trembling back, the first to leap, the last to leave, always carrying fire in your gaze. loyalty is your compass; rebellion, your inheritance.

donghyuck: the spark in the dark room, chaos and comfort knotted into one, you make every secret worth telling. you speak in riddles, love in jokes, and cry when no one’s watching—your devotion never in question. the world is brighter for your noise, safer for your softness.

chenle: the golden thread through every tangled friendship, a grin that undoes a day’s worth of pain, you turn trouble into tradition. you’re a mapmaker for the lost, a lighthouse for the restless, always louder, always loving. when you laugh, even the grownups become children again.

ningning: the melody that lingers after the music stops, you carry every heartache like a verse in a song. your joy is infectious, your anger dazzling, your love a wild, necessary thing. you are always the last to give up and the first to forgive.

yangyang: the horizon always just out of reach, you are the reason adventure never ends, the friend who turns exile into home. your laughter bridges continents, your arms the softest place for the broken. change is your dance partner; hope, your oldest friend.

irene: the mother of second chances, spine like silk and iron, you built a family out of fragments and loved them into wholeness. your wisdom is a shield, your embrace a refuge, your legacy the space you made for everyone to start again. when you love, you leave the door open for anyone who needs to come home.

doyoung: the steady flame in the storm, voice of reason and mercy, you are the quiet that follows chaos. your hands have learned the shape of forgiveness, your patience the foundation on which futures are built. with every gentle word, you mend what fear tries to break.

seulgi: the morning after the hardest night, eyes always searching for the light, you turn sorrow into foundation and survival into beauty. your kindness is the house everyone gathers in, your resilience the thread that weaves every family back together. you forgive more than most, and in doing so, teach everyone how to begin again.

taeyong: the ghost at the edge of every family photo, a storm that taught everyone the cost of silence. your shadow stretches long, but your story is a lesson in breaking the chain, in becoming more than what hurt you. even in your absence, you are the warning, the line drawn, the vow never to repeat the past.

nahyun: a lesson carved in glass and shadow, you are the mirror that shatters and wounds at once. you are the venom in every secret, the storm behind a perfect smile; chaos in silk, cruelty with a crown. your name is a warning, a bruise, a chapter closed—proof that not every ghost deserves a home in the light.

jihyo: the quiet architect of safe places, a healer’s soul hidden in laughter, you make every gathering feel like a homecoming. your patience is endless, your strength quiet but fierce, a backbone for those who think they have none. with every kindness, you teach the world that gentleness survives, that love can be the loudest voice in the room.

coach suh: the architect of second chances, a storm in a whistle, you are the reason lost boys come home whole. your voice is gravel and gospel, tough love with tenderness folded in; every hard lesson a secret blessing, every win and loss a place to grow. you build teams the way others build families: brick by brick, heart by heart, believing fiercely that every kid deserves someone in their corner—no matter how many times they fall.

every minor character, every parent, every coach, every friend: you are the secret constellation behind every hero’s journey, the background music that never fades. you’re the dinner table set for too many, the hallway echoing with laughter, the quiet voice reminding us that no one is too small to matter, no one too lost to be found. the adults are roots and branches—some scarred, some blossoming—holding up the wild tangle of children who spin around them like planets. coaches, with their whistle prayers and patience, are guardians of second chances; parents, both living and gone, are the ghosts who tuck us in, the legends who teach us how to stay or how to leave. even those who broke us are inked in the story’s veins, teaching that family is made of blood, yes, but mostly of choice—chosen, fought for, grieved, forgiven. every soul who passed through this world leaves a shadow, a kindness, a warning, or a welcome. found family is the myth we write together, the kind that says: you are seen, you are held, you are never truly alone. every story belongs to all of us, in the end.

the core themes of this fic—the heartbeat at its center—are the things i hope you’ll carry with you:

• not abandoning what’s broken. like jeno’s childhood jersey, the story refuses to give up on things frayed at the edges. it’s about loving what’s been hurt, honoring scars, seeing value in what others cast aside.

• second chances are real. even when the world tries to convince you that you’ve missed your shot, there’s always a way back. you can build a new ending.

• love survives silence, distance, even betrayal. no matter how many miles or years stand between you, if it’s real, it will find a way to persist. love outlasts what tries to break it.

• family is chosen, built, and fought for every day. this universe is full of found family, the kind that sticks around even when blood doesn’t, the kind that picks you up and patches you together.

• healing is not linear. progress is messy. sometimes you spiral backwards before moving forward. it’s still healing.

• there’s power in vulnerability. the bravest thing any character does is let themselves be seen—messy, raw, afraid. the moments of honesty are the moments of freedom.

• grief and joy can coexist. the story doesn’t erase pain, it folds it in—shows that new life, new laughter, can exist right beside old aches.

• redemption is for everyone, even those you least expect. forgiveness is never easy, but it’s never out of reach. every character has the chance to choose better, to reach for light, even if they’ve spent years in darkness.

and above all, love is always worth the risk. always.

i poured my heart out here, truly. back to you taught me it’s okay to be vulnerable, to be broken, to let myself be seen. now i want to hear from you, please, pour your hearts out, too. tell me in the comments, send me an ask, leave a reblog on this post: what did back to you teach you? how will you remember it? what lines will echo? what scenes live in your heart? this is a love letter where we’re all the authors. this is a shared universe, i welcome you with an open heart to share and confess whatever you crave to tell.

this story saved me. it healed parts of me i didn’t know i was allowed to mend. it brought me friends from every corner of the world, and i know it did the same for others. this universe is where i learned to put language to pain, where i found community, where i could be as vulnerable as i dared. i will always treasure that. i can’t wait to share more with you. below are pinterest boards, playlists, a community you can find home in, the masterlist so you can keep reliving your favourite moments, here’s magic that built this universe. you’ll have the links to the soundtracks and visuals that made every scene shimmer for me. please use them, share them, fall deeper in love. this story belongs to you now, just as much as it ever did to me.

♬ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎ 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 🎧 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

to every soul who ever commented, screamed in the tags, left a little heart or a thousand words, who laughed, raged, or wept with these people—thank you. you didn’t just read these chapters, you breathed life into them. every whisper, every reaction, every late-night message made this universe real, gave it gravity, made it feel like coming home. you made this world bigger, brighter, softer, truer. you made me braver. you gave these characters their legacy. this is never a goodbye—how could it be, when you’ve sewn your own love into every line? the universe will always be here, lights on, arms open, waiting for you to return. i promise, i will always find my way back to you. thank you, with everything i am, for loving all of this so fiercely, so tenderly. please—stay, talk to me, help me keep this heartbeat alive. i’m endlessly grateful you’re here, and always will be.

and to my orbi—the keeper of secrets (she knew what the ending would be from the very start hehe, the exclusive perks you get if you become one of my closest friends... joking), the guardian of the best plot twists, the genius behind so many of the moments you all hold closest. none of this would exist the way it does without you. you held my hand through every tangled brainstorm, sat up for hours as we picked apart endings and rewrote beginnings, and somehow always saw the story’s heart before i did. so many of the things readers adore—those gasp-worthy reveals, the aching resolutions, even the fic name back to you—they were born from your mind first. you’ve held every secret, protected every unfinished arc, believed in every wild direction i wanted to go. you loved this universe with me when it was still just scattered notes and unspoken longing, and you gave me courage to write with my whole chest. thank you for your devotion, your ideas, your laughter, your honesty, your unwavering belief. you’re in every line, every scene, every heartbeat of this world. i love you, endlessly. @hyperbolicheart

with all my love, sophie 🫶.

[amalainse]

| FOR THE FIRST TIME (AGAIN). 3.9k

Surprising your alpha boyfriend with a new addition to the bedroom for your three year anniversary.

tags. A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha! Nagi, Omega! Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Anxious! Reader, Fingering, Vanilla Sex, Missionary, A Hint of Nagi's Oral Fixation, Sub Leaning Nagi, Marking, Mating Bites, Creampie

Written for @forest-hashira 's "Love is in the Air" Omegaverse Collab! Fic title from "For the First Time" by Mac Demarco

Sullenly, you stare down at the untouched strawberry danish sitting on your plate. Sighing, you glance up towards your best friend, Mina, who only stirs her iced coffee and goes back to scrolling on her phone.

She doesn't seem to realize just how dire of a situation this is for you. Of course she wouldn't―Mina's single. It'll be hard for her to grasp how much this has been weighing on your mind. How long you've been stressing about this.

Your therapist tells you that anything that you can't immediately remedy is something that doesn't need your worry. Seperating things into 'Can Fix' and 'Cannot Yet Fix' and 'Impossible to Fix' usually helps with your anxiety. You tried to keep that in mind, truly, you had. But your mind seems to whirl a mile a minute when it comes to your boyfriend Nagi.

Finally sensing your mood, Mina sends out one final message. Then, her brows jump before her eyes snap to your face. "Hey―! Isn't tomorrow your―"

"Yes" You nearly wail, putting your head in your hands. Tomorrow marks your three year anniversary. "Fuck, Mina, I don't know what to do"

What do you mean, you don't know what to do? Mina mutters, and you suppose she thinks she's being quiet enough that you don't hear her. "Well, his birthday was a couple of days ago? Why not bounce off of that? What did you get him then?"

This time, you really do wail. You lay your face onto the table. The chill soothes the oncoming headache. "He didn't even want anything! He just wanted to stay in bed all day!"

Really, it took at least thirty minutes of begging and pouting to stop him from cuddling you so that you could take him out to the beach and enjoy a nice picnic underneath the stars. But by then, you both had missed out on nearly everything you planned for the day. And technically, since it was his birthday, you didn't let yourself get too bummed out about it. Even though you felt like you should've done more.

Then the two of you had walked around, hand in hand, for what felt like an hour before the alpha had proclaimed that he was tired―and then proceeded to tug you down into the sand where you stood and took one of his infamous 'power naps'. Which meant that it took you another thirty minutes to wake him back up again so that you could get back home.

On the bright side, Seishiro had said he liked it. You know he likes listening to you talk―but even you felt that talking for an hour straight didn't seem like much fun for the other person.

Mina laughs. "Yeah―that does seem like him. Man, it must be nice having an alpha who's so laid back. You don't even have to do anything"

"But I want to do things for him!" You exclaim, angrily sipping from your matcha latte. You're so used to proving your worth, in being useful. Thoughtful. Showing people you're attentive to them and their wishes through gifts and acts of service makes you feel...good. Needed. But your boyfriend doesn't seem to care about any of that.

Sometimes, it's sweet. Not having to do so much all of the time. Having someone appreciate you not because of what you do for them, but because of you, yourself. Other times, like now, it's hell.

"You'll be fine" Mina says, suddenly serious. Her hand reaches out to grab your own. "You know Seishiro would like anything you do for him. I mean it. You two are so disgustingly sappy. You're practically mated already―"

Oh. Your head snaps up, eyes blown wide. "That's it!"

A look of surprise passes over Mina's face. She takes a final sip of her coffee before the look of shock shifts to one of confidence. "You're welcome. You know you can always come to me with these sorts of things"

Well. You aren't so sure about that part. But you thank her sincerely anyway, just to watch her brighten up.

You don't like most alphas. And before Seishiro, you wanted nothing to do with them. But Seishiro isn't like most alphas―he's wholly uninterested in throwing his weight around for one. He's rather soft and attentive, even when he appears to be the opposite. A hundred other things you could say right now.

When you wake up on the morning of your anniversary, you carefully maneuver out of the tight grip your alpha has you in. Predictably, he begins to grumble in his sleep, blindly searching for you. Quickly, you shove one of your plushies into his arms―cooing softly at the adorable sight of Seishiro latching on and rubbing his nose along the head of the plush cat.

Before you can waste any more time watching him sleep, you scurry off into the kitchen. The night before, you had prepped a bowl of crepe batter, as well as a few other things for a light (but nutritious!) breakfast. Seishiro had been latched onto you the entire time, gently rubbing his nose along your scent gland, breaths puffing lightly against your skin.

"What's that?" He would ask softly, every time you moved to do something new. "What are you doing with that?"

You giggle to yourself softly at the memory, gently pouring a thin layer of batter into the pan. Seishiro's so cute. And curious, despite his laziness. Like an odd mixture of an energetic kitten and an old dog. When you return to the bedroom to rouse your alpha, you aren't surprised to see him blearily waking up.

He frowns at you, with a pout. "You left" When he moves to sit up, you can see the death grip he still has around your plushie.

"For breakfast" You point out, brandishing the plate with a neat crepe cake, brandished with fresh fruits and a drizzle of chocolate sauce. In the center, there are two candles ; '03' and written in your handwriting, 'Happy Anniversary'.

Seishiro breathes, olive eyes flicking back up to your face. "You made that?" At your chipper little nod, the alpha offers one of his rare smiles. "It's very beautiful"

You can't help but preen. Crawling into bed, you hand off the plate to Seishiro, handing him his fork. "Don't eat it yet Seishiro, I want to take a picture"

"You never take 'a' picture" He says. It could almost be considered a whine. A sound most unbecoming for an alpha. You search around the bed blindly for your phone, keeping an eye on your boyfriend at the same time.

"Sei." Is all you say, warningly, and his fingers halt in midair, centimeters away from plucking up a blueberry. The alpha deflates but obeys with another little frown. You snap your photos quickly and make a mental note to post a few of them later on tonight.

"It's so pretty I almost don't want to eat it..." Murmurs Seishiro, words lax and soft, lifting his head to slowly blink in your direction. But he grabs a fork anyway, swiping his tongue over his lips. Then pauses, and stares at you once more. "You should have the first bite"

You give him a soft smile, but shake your head. "I made it for you though"

"Which is why you should eat the first bite" He presses, softly scooting closer. Your thighs and sides touch, and Seishiro leans into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent with eager little snuffs. "Please?" He says―the word muffled by your skin.

As if you could ever refuse a request from him. Especially since he doesn't ask for very much to begin with. The alpha purrs softly, chest rumbling, as he watches you take the first bite with a single-minded focus. He doesn't blink the entire time, you think. Seishiro is quick to follow, tossing aside his own fork to pluck yours from your hand.

Indirect kiss! You can't help but think, as he slowly pushes a forkful into his mouth. Half desperate and embarrassed to watch his expression―you flip between turning away and looking at him intently as he chews.

"You used lemon tea" He whispers, blinking those big wide eyes at you before letting them drift to his fork.

"For the cream and a little in the crepes themselves" You explain, giddy as the alpha nods.

"Lemon tea is my favorite" Seishiro adds, as if you didn't already know that. Lightly, he nips at your shoulder and then nuzzles at you when you playfully shriek. "You're very thoughtful."

This makes you pause, oddly warmed.

The two of you took turns then―feeding each other like lovesick birds from a rom-com. Even when you wanted to speed through things and get to the rest of your anniversary, Seishiro wouldn't let you. Finally, after the last dollop of cream had been pushed into your mouth, your alpha grabbed the plate and set it aside.

"Stay here" He instructed, oddly serious. As serious as one could with sleep-mussed hair and pajama pants misaligned, anyway. "I need to go get your gift"

"Eh?" You say, as he pads back into the room carrying a very large box. "I didn't know you got me a gift"

Seishiro stares at you, clearly very offended. He pushes the crudely wrapped box your way. When he sees you eyeing the shoddy taped gift he says, "I didn't want Reo to wrap it for me"

Reo wraps your usual gifts. Or he hires someone to do it for him, you think. It's always impeccable, with a color coordinated bow. The bow on Seishiro's gift is lopsided and threatening to fall off. You pluck with your fingers and very ungracefully tear into the box.

"Oh wow!" You exclaim, very carefully pulling out the ceramic bakeware pieces. No wonder the box had been so big. Everything is heart-shaped and ornate, in gorgeous shades of blue, yellow and white. "Where did you find this?"

"Reo helped me find a potter" Seishiro explains "And I helped design things I thought you might like. Our names are on it too, look, see?"

Your eyes sparkle, wet with nearly shed tears. Seishiro panics, deflating, grumbling, "Please don't cry"

You sniffle. "I don't think I can help it" Another sniffle, and then you really do cry, shuffling forward to hide your face in the crook of Seishiro's neck. He isn't wearing his patches, so his warm lemongrass scent covers you like a blanket. Your hands clutch desperate little fists in the material of his pajama shirt. "I'm going to bake a huge, gigantic cake with this. And surround it with a dozen heart shaped cupcakes"

His hand rubs comforting little circles on the small of your back.

"There's a waiver for a season of gourmet baking classes too" Seishiro adds, after you've stopped crying, helping you dabble the wet stains from your cheeks. "...you look like you're going to cry again"

"I'm not" You protest, sniffling. "I'm just really, really happy"

Seishiro nuzzles against the side of your face and neck, covering you in his scent thoroughly. "I'm really happy with you too"

You swallow, freezing up. Trepidation flows through you, slow like drizzled honey. Just ask. "Enough to..." Another swallow. "Enough to mate me?"

Silence. For a split second.

"You want that too?" Seishiro asks, pulling back far enough to stare you in the eye. His hands dig into your shoulders and you can see the effort it takes him not to hurt you.

Too. So Seishiro had been thinking about it just as much as you had.

"I was thinking we could mate each other properly" You manage to say without stammering. "Because we've been together three years now, and I can't possibly see myself with anyone else"

Seishiro doesn't say anything―surprisingly. Instead, his fingers shake as he places your bakeware pieces back into the box, depositing it gently on the floor. You're half afraid you've put him off of the idea entirely, if it weren't for the pure need in his scent giving him away.

When he turns to face you again, his eyes are little more than ringed black spirals. "Now?" He asks slowly, and you can feel the air shift, changing. The hairs on the back of your arms and neck stand to attention. "We can mate each other now?"

Nervously, you laugh―beginning to feel equally parts unnerved and turned on. Not wholly unusual, when it comes to sex with an alpha like Seishiro. "Well, I have to change―"

"Why?" Again with that laser-focused stare.

"Seishiro." You say simply, gesturing down to your rumpled clothes. There's a medium sized batter stain over your left breast. There's a pout on your face. "I wanted to wear something sexier"

"I'm going to end up taking it off of you anyway" He murmurs, reaching down to tug off his shirt before flinging it onto the floor before crawling towards you and grabbing onto your ankle. "I like you more like this anyway. You smell like me" Like you should be, goes unsaid. But you know that's what he means anyway.

Butterflies swarm around in your stomach like a particularly viscous beast. His hand curls and uncurls around your ankle. Waiting like a beast ready to pounce.

Your hand darts out and tugs him closer. Though, you don't have to do much tugging. The moment your arm reaches out, Seishiro is already clambering into your space―hovering, waiting for further instruction.

Olive eyes skitter over your face, somehow both slow and fast as he checks you over. Seishiro's hand curls away from your ankle, going up, up, up, soft over your skin. Heat blooms in your belly and a breathless noise leaves your lips whenever you two finally meet in the middle.

Seishiro kisses like he plays; soft, languid, easy. But then gradually, he gets into it. Hard, focused, almost ruthless in its efficiency to ruin you. And it isn't long at all until you're under him and panting, hips bucking up against his front while his scent grows thick and heavy underneath your nose.

His hand hovers over your lower stomach, exuding heat. Then, he presses down, inhaling your scent in greedy inhales. When he glances back up at you, his pupils are so big his irises might as well not even exist.

"Going to mark you soon" Seishiro rumbles promisingly and two fingers press purposefully up against your scent gland. "And you're going to mark me too. Luckiest alpha in the world"

"Ah―Sei-Seishiro!" You whine, when that hand goes down to fondle your breasts from underneath your cami. He rolls the sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pressing a kiss to the side of your head when you make a soft keen.

Your hand curls up over his heart in little fists as he angles your head in order to kiss you again. It leaves your head swimming and thoughts harder to grasp when he pulls away―chuckling softly when you chase after his lips.

Seishiro assists you out of your top, muttering a soft, start touching yourself before he latches onto a breast. Your fingers skirt down your body, hurrying to obey, whining softly when they make contact with your wet folds. You slip two fingers inside of yourself, crooking them upwards. Seishiro switches from your right breast to your left, free hand coming up to fondle the other.

He's always had a weird fixation on your boobs. You know he's more than content to lick between your legs or suckle on your breasts for hours, stroking himself until he cums―completely satisficed.

That's what he's doing now, the soft schlick schlick sound of his hand jerking over his cock through his boxers as he switches from one breast to the next, nuzzling into your chest occasionally. There's the slightest quiver of his breath, the way his body trembles lightly from the effort of having to bite back a moan, all for not because it escapes him anyway.

"Are you close?" You ask, whisper quiet, words catching on a high noise as your fingers brush up against your spot just right.

Seishiro nods, hand working faster before pulling off of your breast with a pop! and instead choosing to lick and suckle at your scent gland instead, nipping and biting around it.

A choked whimper escapes him, and the broken syllables of your name before you take pity on him, ushering a soft, "Here, let me" hand snaking down into his boxers to curl around his heavy shaft.

Your fingers twist around the slippery head, tracing the prominent vein on the underside before gripping him properly. Seishiro's hand curls around your shoulders, chuffing into your neck as his hips move in aborted little jerks.

He sounds so pretty, needy and desperate, pleading for you―nipping at your neck. Sounds absolutely perfect, divine and heaven sent as his hips fuck up into your fist. Your pussy throbs, lower stomach clenching and unclenching as slick pools in your underwear.

"Close. Don't wanna cum yet" Seishiro bites out, high and cracking around the word. You pull your hand away, watching with rapt attention at the heavy exhale that leaves your alphas mouth. His eyes are glazed, turning his head just enough to blindly search for your mouth.

Seishiro blinks away the daze, pulling your shorts and underwear down around your ankle before flinging them in the same general area of his shirt. The broad of his palm pats against your pussy, humming softly in appreciation when you obediently part your legs for him.

His eerie laser focus returns, eyes darting between your face and your pussy as he pushes two thick fingers inside of you. "Wider" He commands. You spread your legs so wide the stretch stings, just a bit. "Good" and then he proceeds to finger fuck you so hard until your cunt is spasming and drooling around his fingers. Three, when he slips another in―palm brushing against your clit.

You don't bother biting back any of your sounds anymore, though you used to. The first couple of times the two of you had sex. You thought it was embarrassing, being so noisy. Seishiro had approached you out of the blue one morning and asked if he was that bad in bed. The fond memory makes you smile, admit all of your moaning.

His eyes dart up to your face immediately, catching the shift in your expression. "What are you thinking about?" Carefully, he wiggles in a fourth finger. Your cunt is about as noisy as your mouth is, greedily sucking them in deeper.

"How much I love you" You manage to say in between gasps and moans, though it comes out more slurred than you'd personally like it to. But it makes Seishiro smile, kissing you sweetly on the lips before he gently pulls his fingers free.

"Lie back for me" He says, sucking his fingers clean before busying with the ties of his pants. You do so, shifting and squirming on the sheets impatiently as he rids himself of his pants and boxers at last.

He shuffles on top of you, a bit awkward and lumbering, but no less endearing. You spread your legs for him to fit comfortably between. Like always, Seishiro settles between them, kissing your cheek softly before craning over you to reach for the second drawer―where you keep the condoms.

Except, this time, your fingers curl around his wrist. Halting his movements. Seishiro doesn't bother to hide the confusion on his face as he stares down at you.

"I'm fine without the condom this time, Seishiro" You explain, laughing softly at the way your alpha visibly short-circuits.

"Does...do―should I cum inside?" He asks, blinking down at you owlishly. His fingers press into the skin of your hips. His cock is leaking, heavy and slightly red between his legs.

You nod. "You can cum inside" You say calmly. Like him fucking you raw is a normal occurrence.

There's a bit of drool escaping Seishiro's mouth at the prospect. He gives you a determined little nod before his hand wraps around his cock, hissing quietly. He strokes himself a few times, blinking back tears before rubbing the tip up against your entrance. It catches on the third glid, Seishiro biting his lip as he slowly pushes inside.

It feels like a slow warming fire, burning you from the inside out. You whimper, overshadowed by Seishiro's much louder whine as he buries his face into your neck―mouthing at your sweaty skin.

The swell of his hot girth presses inside, thick and unyeiliding. Inch after inch sinking into your weeping cunt―the bitten back cry from Seishiro's mouth, all in one lazy push. Then you feel it, mouth dropping open with both realization and pleasure.

"Did you just cum?" You ask incredously, blinking your dewy eyes open to peer at him.

Seishiro nods, wholly unashamed. There are tears in the corners of his eyes. "You feel...so good. Couldn't help it" Then, he's drawing out with a whine before pushing back in. His hand trembles, fisting in the sheets beside your head as he slowly begins to fuck you, hips grinding against your ass.

He's still hard. Sensitive though, if the way he mewls against you is any inclination of the fact―desperate praises rolling freely from his mouth.

It's a delicious sort of friction, each drag outwards working to further scramble your brain, a pleasure you feel sparking down your legs and each of your toes, through the tips of your fingers like kinetic energy. Snowy white hair dipping into olives eyes, calloused hands on your hips, twisting your body into a better angle and holding you there.

Your legs kick out, scrambling to hook around Seishiro's waist as his cock plunges deeper, hitting your g-spot dead on. A determined sort of look passes onto your alpha's face then and each fresh stroke hits that spot dead on; forcing a dam of sounds from your lips. He fucks you with intention, with purpose, holds your gaze and won't let you look away, pace slowed but eager.

"Sei" You whine helplessly, fingers digging deep crescent moons into his biceps. Your cunt flutters around his cock, sucking him in and attempting to milk him dry. "Sei, 'm gonna cum"

Seishiro doesn't answer, giving you a whine of his own before his hand slips right between your open legs. His thumb presses up against your clit, gathering a bit of slick to make the slide easier―rubbing soft, slow circles.

You mewl, practically sobbing, as your back bows off the bed. Seishiro's thrusts grow stilted and uncoordinated, chasing that high, brows knit in concentration. Each thrust hard enough to send you up the mattress, his hands holding you in place once more. Then, his face finds its way back to your throat, teeth scraping over your scent gland in a way that has your cunt clamping down tight around his cock before he sinks them in and bites down. Hard.

It knocks the air out of your lungs, pleasure so hot it burns like lava when it flows down your body. You don't know if you're silent or not when you cum, entire body shaking and trembling from the aftershocks of it instead. Your eyes white out momentarily and the very second you can see again, you're craning your neck and sinking your teeth into Seishiro's scent gland in return.

Then Seishiro leans forward, hips jackrabbiting up into your cunt. Leaning against you in his entirety. He cums again, whimpering pathetically as he does so, an exhale leaving his lips when he finishes.

Your combined scents swirl in the air―lemongrass and a gentle woodsy undercurrent. Seishiro nuzzles into your neck, licking over your scent glend to soothe the sting.

"You smell good" He says a beat later, curling a hand around your sweaty shoulder.

"We smell the same now" You murmur in agreeance, dazed.

Seishiro hums. "Like mates"

© amalainse -- do not copy, steal or plagiarize my works.

[ruggiesears]

Little habits Daisy & Ruggie have as a couple (because I'm bored) ♡

This is a small post of all the habits Daisy and Ruggie have while dating each other to show affection! I made this simply bc I'm bored so yeah I don't expect this to gather any attention tbh.

Tagging @viilpstick and @justm3di0cr3 because they're my daiggie besties (I urge u guys to tag me in your OCs' stuff too please I'm so deprived of oc x canon content)

1. Daisy has the habit of cooking bentos for Ruggie! She can't do it everyday but when she can she always makes sure to make an extra portion of whatever her and Grim are going to eat so she can make a bento for Ruggie

2. Still in the topic of cooking Daisy adores making donuts for him. Nothing beats homemade donuts so she's always excited to make some for him

3. Ruggie always helps Daisy fix things at Ramshackle. She's pretty self sufficient and is able to fix small things but ultimately when it comes to more complicated stuff she needs help, which is when Ruggie comes to the rescue to help her around

4. Ruggie loves running his hands through her hair, hyenas often groom each other as a way to show affection so that's his instincts working. He also sometimes do hairstyles on her hair when she asks

5. Ruggie likes helping Daisy with her makeup when she's feeling particularly self conscious about her appearance, and yes he always makes sure to kiss her after applying her lipstick just to see her flustered

6. Daisy used to live in 1955, meaning her makeup is highly inspired by the 50s decade. She doesn't like wearing the usual red lipstick most women wore back in her world in a daily basis though, but sometimes when she goes on a date with Ruggie she uses it

7. Ruggie walks Daisy to her class before going to his own class most days; he's super busy so he does that because at least he'll get to see her in the morning this way

8. Daisy messages like a grandma (she makes space between words and punctuations "like this !" and she's obsessed with the "☺️" emoji because she thinks it's cute. Also she always puts her name at the end of it like "- Daisy") and Ruggie got so used to it he finds it endearing, sometimes he accidentally copies her writing style and it makes him embarrassed

9. On this topic, Daisy found through Cater those photos os animals together saying "us" so she has the habit of finding pictures of hyenas together and she sends them to him saying "look ! It's us ! ☺️" And Ruggie just sighs like "yes it's us, blossom" because he doesn't have the heart to stop her

10. Daisy calls Ruggie "mon rêve" ("my dream" apparently, I don't speak french) because she and Ruggie used to dream of each other before she arrived in Twisted Wonderland; she ofc only does that after she realizes he was the guy in her dreams, but most of the time she calls him "love" and "Roo" sometimes

[moonyskarma]

𝓣he 𝓢candal of the 𝓒entury

❝ call me 𝓥on 𝓓utch, i'm just as bad, i'm just doing what i want!!! ❞

everything started in june at a summer party. at a high status event like that, many celebrities are invited. charles and i attended. so did kim kardashian. and that my friends is where this whole thing starts. please be forewarned this is a pretty long post!!!

at this party, kim took it upon herself to openly flirt with my boyfriend in front of me. her husband, kanye west, had not been attending this party. as i typically give people the benefit of the doubt, i brushed it off and assumed she was just drunk.

that night, when charles and i returned home at around 2 or 3 am, he received a text from her saying "it was really nice to see you tonight, would love to see you again sometime?"

like what. are you serious. I WAS AT THE PARTY WITH HIM??? my period of giving her the benefit of the doubt was now over, so i posted this the next day as a warning to her.

around this time, she'd taken it upon herself to post tweets that were... well, rather targeted, about having a crush on a taken man. why she was posting that kind of thing on her main account i have no idea. she claimed her and kanye were "on a break", and started using the hashtag #kimthecougar on all her posts. yeah, i was not pleased with that. #apolloleclerc, however, was trending and had been for a couple months.

a couple weeks later, this was still occurring. charles was declining calls from her every day, and every night she'd text and dm him, often with photos of herself (not any particularly inappropriate ones. not yet.)

at this point, i'd already called and asked her to please stop as charles is in a relationship (WITH ME???) and obviously doesn't want her. she denied everything.

so i posted this. and the whole world exploded.

and then she brought jamie into it. that's right, my ex boyfriend jamie. jamie who had absolutely no part in this.

she's LITERALLY MARRIED and sending dms and messages and photos to my boyfriend and calling him every night. "i would never promote cheating or adultery" be SO fr right now oh my god???

she tried to use the excuse that as jamie was (kinda) significantly older than me when i had dated him, it excused her flirting with charles.

um that's not how that works !! first of all jamie wasn't MARRIED??? also i wasn't IN A RELATIONSHIP??? it's very clearly not the same thing, and i felt awful that jamie'd been dragged into something that he had nothing to with.

oh girl sybau. like im sorry but what. i quite literally have receipts. i have taken these receipts to my lawyer. THERE ARE RECEIPTS. THERE ARE SO MANY RECEIPTS.

first lyric post for my song better people to leave on read (which had been released three days prior!!!) at that point i was so pissed off because even after all of this, SHE WAS STILL TRYING TO HIT ON HIM. WHAT.

thank you ex-boyfriend xx idk there's not much to say about this one i just thought it was really sweet that he said this. he always used to refer to me as "his sun" or "the sun" because my pen name (and middle name) is apollo

second lyric post !! from the same song as well. overall, this entire situation is so ridiculously stupid. not only did all of this happen with me (and charles. and jamie.) but kim started a hate campaign against taylor (yes, taylor swift) when she came to my defense (#taylorswiftismybestfriend). kim kardashian they will never make me like you.

© moonyskarma 2025, all tweets made by me

[isaiahking]

Isaiah had always known Skylar had a big heart—but moments like this reminded him just how big. She felt things so deeply, carried other people’s happiness like it was her own, and somehow, she made space for everyone. It's a trait that he could sometimes have. When she smiled at him with teary eyes and called what he said “really sweet,” Isaiah felt a familiar warmth settle in his chest. He wasn’t used to people hearing him like that—really hearing him. He gave her a soft smile in return. “Well, it’s true,” he said gently. “You’ve got that storybook love now, you know?" When she reached for his hand after he mentioned his brother, Isaiah didn’t pull away. He let her hold it—let the quiet weight of her comfort settle between them. It wasn’t pity; it was something gentler. Something real. “Thank you,” he said quietly, looking down at their joined hands before glancing back up. “It’s been a long time since I talked about him like that." And when Skylar said “you deserve this kind of love,” Isaiah’s throat tightened. She said it so sincerely, so honestly, like she really meant it—not just the words, but the belief behind them. “I used to think maybe I didn’t,” he admitted. “That maybe people like me weren’t meant for that kind of forever. But then… Leo happened.” His voice was quiet, steady. “And the day I met him I knew that I wanted him." He watched as Skylar tried to laugh through her tears, pressing her hand to her lips like it could hold all the emotion back. “You don’t have to apologise,” Isaiah said, squeezing her hand. “Crying just means you’ve got a heart that works." Isaiah’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he instinctively reached for it, still holding Skylar’s hand with his other. He glanced down at the screen, and the moment he read the message, a grin spread slowly across his face—warm, amused, and just the tiniest bit flustered. He let out a soft laugh under his breath and quickly typed out a response, thumbs flying across the screen. When he locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, he shook his head, smiling to himself like someone who’d just been caught in the middle of a private joke. “My husband’s flirting with me mid-shift through text,” he said, his tone equal parts exasperated and absolutely smitten. “Man’s supposed to be saving lives, and he’s out here sending heart emojis and telling me what he wants to do when he gets home.” He shook his head again, still smiling. “It’s honestly unfair how good he is at distracting me. Even through a screen. God, I love him so much."

skylar had always been like that—she loved sitting down to watch disney princess movies just for the romance. then she got older and started reading about it. now, somehow, she was actually living her dream love story with romeo. he had told her plenty of times that he hit the jackpot with her, but deep down, she knew she was the lucky one. romeo had pulled her out of a dark place. it wasn’t like her situation was worse than what he had been through at home, but her last relationship had left her so insecure, so convinced no one would ever love her the right way. and then romeo came along, and suddenly she knew—she could be loved. people could care. maybe one day she’d tell their kids the story of how she met their dad, how fast she fell for him. for now, though, she’d just listen to others talk about love. “aw, that’s really nice, no one’s ever said that to me. it’s honestly really sweet,” she said, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. she loved isaiah—he had the kindest heart. talking to him always felt easy. she hadn’t planned on crying that day, but hearing him talk about leo like that made her tear up. she was so happy for her best friend. leo was lucky, really lucky, to have someone like isaiah. skylar cried about everything, and this was no exception. just the thought of being included in their family was overwhelming—it made her smile, made her heart ache in the best way. “you’re lucky to have each other,” she said softly. she knew how much isaiah had changed leo’s world. he was his person. and that made her happy, knowing leo had found that kind of love. but when isaiah mentioned his brother, skylar felt like all the air had been pulled from the room. she hadn’t known. “i’m so sorry about your brother,” she said quickly, reaching out to hold his hand. “leo’s like that. he really is the best,” she nodded. then isaiah said something that hit her hard again, and she had to fight the tears. “maybe he did,” she whispered. “i want to believe he did,” she added. “you deserve this kind of love, isaiah—the kind that makes you smile the way you do when you talk about leo. the kind that makes you dream about forever. you deserve nothing but the best.” she paused, laughing softly through her tears. “and i should probably stop with all these heavy words before i start crying again,” she chuckled, pressing her hand to her lips. “sorry, i’m a little too sensitive today.”

[ziyechs]

joe'marr bengals reunion — a (somewhat) comprehensive timeline

1 — “have you spoken to the cincinnati bengals and what would it mean to reunite with joe burrow there?” — “i have talked to the bengals. i don’t know how many times i’ve talked to them though. but, me and joe, you know, i wouldn’t mind going back with joe. if we go back together we’re trying to do nothing but get back our chemistry and have some more fun.”

2 — “i'm really excited for this draft. i don't really know what's coming but, you know, if me and joe could get back to it... i’d love to have some fun with him again.”

3 — “i assume you'd be okay with a potential reunion in cincinnati if that were to happen?" — "yeah, i wouldn’t mind.”

4 — “me and joe talked about [a reunion] maybe like three, four times actually. we talked about it a good bit of times. he texted me this morning, just letting me know: ‘get your bags packed’, so i guess that meant that was gonna be the pick. i don’t know if that was a hint or what. so, he sent me that little text this morning, i was like ‘okay… i'm ready, bro’.”

5 — “what was your reaction like when he was lowkey recruiting you?” — “i actually was believing him sometimes, sometimes i was like ‘stop playing with me’ and sometimes i was just like ‘okay bro, i gotcha, i'm ready now’ so. i believed him this morning when he told me, you know, pack my bags. so that's when i finally was like: ‘yeah he might really be calling this’ so that's when i took his word.”

6 – “jimmy burrow, did joe tell you—he’s always been kind of coy about what he said to the bengals—did joe tell you that he wanted the bengals to select ja’marr?” — “yes, i think we figured that… and eventually… yes, he pretty much told us that he wanted ja’marr.”

7 — “it was like a week before the draft, ja'marr said: ‘dad, joe texted me.’ […] he didn't say what he said, you know. but he said: ‘joe just texted me’, [...] so he had talked to joe like... or texted with joe once or twice that week. and then he told me, he said: ‘dad, if i get with joe, we're gonna kill’ [...] so he was all excited about getting with joe.”

8 — “what was the first thing joe texted you when you got drafted by the bengals?” — “make sure your bag's packed and ready. yeah, that was what he told me.”

9 — “the cincinnati bengals are on the clock now. earlier that morning, i had got a text from joe. he said: hope your bags are packed. i know it's me, at the moment, that's what i'm saying to myself. i can't wait to be a part of it.”

10 — articles: 1, 2, 3, 4

[dreamsy990]

some of the less nice thoughts about being aroace

extras below the cut

sketch

closeups on my favorite panels

bonus: adios

[tj-crochets]

I got a little worm hair clip!! :D

I’ll take a better picture next time my hair is at max curly instead but look at this little worm hair clip it’s so cute and it works so well!

Here's the link to the etsy where I got it if you want a worm clip of your own (this is not a sponsored post I just like fun hair clips)

[phantomamour]

list of wips to keep myself accountable to an extent:

billy zombie apocalypse angst

final part of star wars au (releasing june 10th)

continue/finish racer billy series

saving billy from dying fic (currently in progress)

vampire reader and billy

special july billy fic (currently in progress)

summer billy series (currently in progress)

part 3 to senator coryo blurbs (releasing june 24th)

president’s daughter x coryo

defying gravity fic for wicked au (still in outline phase/paused)

pk coryo version of if you need to darling

surprising alex in a ldr (currently in progress)

very angsty alex series (still in outline phase)