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fairene · 9 months ago

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passenger princess / ln4

established relationship lando norris x fem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

in which the weekend takes a twist, and all you want is a baby.

prompt⋯ hi! first of all, i absolutely ADORE your writing. i’ve been reading all of your stuff for the past few days!! second, i was scrolling on pinterest and i rediscovered the lando daddy bracelet pic. that combined with THE dutch gp pic made me be down even worse for him. with that i request a fic with an established reader x lando relationship. that’s set during the weekend of the 2024 dutch gp. where he wears the bracelet over the course of the weekend and it gets you(? or me? idk how to phrase that) really worked up, and after he wins they fuck while he’s still wearing it. and it’s like the most rough feral sex known to mankind. but at the end you want him to come in you and he’s like “oh you wanna make me a daddy”. like yes it is a slight breeding kink but it’s more of the idea of the bracelet and how he definitely knew what he was doing when he wore it (in the fic and irl too tbh). that’s the general idea but feel free to put your own spin on it!! i am incredibly down bad for him and that photo did something to me. ty 🤗🧡

a/n ⋯ yeah tbh i got no excuse for this one chat...like...how could i not resist a breeding kink...i know y'all want it too. but for real--- thank you anon for being patient. i had a lot of fun writing this in between doing work. writing is an escape for me. thank you to all for the continued support, and i'll be continuing to get through asks as time moves along. comment below to be added to my taglist, or comment in general! i love replying to all of them as much as i can.

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, breeding kink, impregnation, teasing, possessiveness, jealousy, creampie, begging, mating press-- allat shit tbh. if i miss a warning, let me know.

wc ⋯ 8.5k (unedited.)

things had begun to be different between you and lando. you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when the gears shifted, the stars aligned, though you only cared how good it made you feel with him.

but he knew. he knew exactly when.

you’d been dating lando for two years now. it was two years of pure bliss— the exciting lifestyle that you’ve craved, the love and care, the passion that you shared with him was exquisitely yours. he is yours. and you are his.

that morning in the paddock he was speaking to max, chattering about the post collision from hungaroring. they seemed to make up in due time, finding it easier to call one another “brother’s” again, despite the damages done to their cars and the media in an uproar about their impish, punitive behaviors. you didn’t spare any glance towards the comments made about it, knowing that lando had been in a rough shape that weekend.

you played with penelope, p, as they were talking, squatted on the ground with colored pens in your hand. kelly loomed behind, on her phone, thankful enough that you could occupy her for the time being. you had no issue entertaining her. you loved being around children…most of the time.

“this one?” you held out the red pen for p, as she was pointing to with a bashful look. she was shy– especially around you, given your ethereal, wanderlust nature. you carried yourself in such an elegant way that could facilitate a ray of sunlight through the most tepid storms.

she nodded and you handed it to her. she latched her smaller hand around it, coloring in the rb20 from her sketchbook. your hand fell beneath your chin as you watched her carefully color inside the lines, dreading falling out of it. you smiled as she did, the dress you wore crinkling fashionably around your thighs.

p flashed the page at you nervously, awaiting her input. your eyes glowed, sparkles falling onto the page as you scanned it. she really did do a good job.

“beautiful, p!” you commented, your palm splaying over her upper back. “you’re really good at this, you know?”

a shade of red filled her cheeks, warming her skin. you hadn’t meant to embarrass her, nor make her nervous.

“do you want to color one with me?” you asked her, pointing to the pages in the book. she hesitated for a moment, as if she didn’t hear you properly, but ended up nodding with the same excitement that she did when she’d see max on the podium. “you pick. something…pretty.”

the gears were turning in her head as she flipped through the pages, trying to find the perfect one for you and her to work on. you, on the other hand, were focused on how her brows scrunched together as she furiously searched through her booklet. it was cute the way she perceived things. she was a cutie. it made you think about your own future, what you wanted.

what you wanted,

your eyes drifted from the carpeted floors inside the hospitality room, to the shoes that he wore, and up his black jeans to the papaya livery he sported for the day. you lingered on the expanse of his chest, the tan skin peaking through the v-neck of his unbuttoned collar. your mouth watered instinctively, thinking about how lucky you were to have a man like lando love you so deeply.

as you glanced further up towards his chin, the unshaved rigid surface that sparked electricity over your body, you found him already looking down at you. he wasn’t even paying attention to max at this point, already giving you all of his attention and you didn’t even need to ask.

you gave him a smile, covering your lips afterward to stifle your giggle, and turned back to p once she tapped you that she’d found a picture for the two of you to color.

“mate?”

lando was lost in a daze staring at you. gawking at your figure, the dress you decided to wear. it was a denim colored sheath that you’d twin with alexandra with. she’d wear the gia dress in a pomegranate hue, whereas you took the navy.

lando’s hand was cupped against his chin, rubbing over his stubble, keen on watching how you interacted with p.

your relationship had progressed further than he’s ever gotten to before in his life. he was at a point where he knew he didn’t want anyone else, to explore someone else’s body the way he did yours. he knew you, inside and out, and he didn’t think another connection was even fathomable.

you appeared to be so gentle with her, taking the time to listen to what she wanted you to do, how to color, maneuver the pens. there would be no outside the line coloring on her watch, that was for sure.

he found himself smiling bright.

do you want kids?

he knew that he did. he always knew that. but he’d never broach the subject to you directly. your relationship with him was secure, but was it eligible to be taken to the next level? would you be frightened by his sudden urge to create a life with you? a product of him, and the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen?

“yeah? sorry.” lando looked back towards max. but it was too late, and max was looking over his shoulder towards you and p.

when he looked back towards lando, he threw his hands up in defense. max rolled his eyes. “don’t know why you haven’t proposed to her yet. what’re you waiting for?”

lando bristled. he waited a moment to answer, wondering the same fucking thing. what was he waiting on? the perfect time, perhaps. summer break was rapidly approaching, and he certainly had a ring picked out.

the papaya clad driver pulled out his phone and scrolled through his photos, settled on the right one, and handed it to max. the other driver took it, zooming in, not that he needed to.

“when?”

lando shrugged. “summer break. greece, maybe.”

max cheered, slapping his hand over his mouth in shock. “you’re serious, mate?” lando nodded. max pulled him in for a hug, slapping him over the back. he couldn’t be happier for his best friend in this moment, starting to jump up and down. lando settled him down and slid his phone back into his pocket.

“keep it quiet. i want her to be surprised.”

max made a motion of a lock and key. “surprised about what?”

lando felt giddy.

you hadn’t been paying much attention to what lando nor max were chittering about. you’d been so hyper focused on coloring with p, that you were absent minded of the conversation behind you.

p had picked out a cartoon illustration of max and lando smiling towards the viewer. you’d thought it was an adorable choice, and it showed that p was more aware than what she led on to be. she, of course, started coloring in max. with his neutrally blonde hair, redbull cap, she was fast working.

but then she shoved the book towards you, politely anyways, and pointed at lando, who was yet to be colored in.

“my turn?” she nodded her head, handing you the orange marker.

you grinned, carefully coloring in the lines of the drawing before p took a deep breath. “are you and lando married?”

the question had you freeze momentarily, taken back by her question. “no, p, we’re not.”

you continued to color, whilst she continued to question. “why not?”

“because he hasn’t asked me.”

“why don’t you ask him?”

“i’m not sure that’s what he wants.”

p raised a brow. she looked towards lando and max, giggling together like school girls, then back to you and your focused coloring.

she handed you a brown marker for lando’s curls. “i think you should.”

now it was your turn to be inquisitive, “really, now?”

she nodded her head without hesitating. “then you’d be my aunt!” she giggled.

you colored in lando’s curls, carefully, diligently, thinking of how they felt beneath your fingertips. your breath hitched thinking about the thought of him proposing, wondering if he had ever even thought about it. you knew what your answer would be. it wouldn’t even take a beat of your heart to give him in answer, if he chose to ask. if he chose you.

with one final stripe of a black marker, your drawing of lando had been finished. you stood up, and so did p.

“are you going to have babies?”

“p!” you gasped, mouth dropping. “that’s none of your business, young lady.”

she laughed, twirling around. “what? that’s what mama says happens when you love someone.” confident, wasn’t she? “do you love lando?”

“of course i do, p.”

she gasped.

“is there a baby in there right now?!” she seemed concerned, becoming so bold as to touch your stomach. it was a little higher than where your womb sat beneath your skin, but close enough.

you shook your head. “no, honey. i am not having a baby right now.”

she looked disappointed. taking her hand back, she crossed them over her chest.

“penelope, what are you going on about?” kelly finally chimed in, rubbing p’s back with her hand.

“nothing.”

but it wasn’t nothing.

lando appeared behind you, a hand on your lower back. you leaned into him, recognizing his touch, and you got a brief wave of panic wondering if he heard your conversation with p.

“p,” lando said over your shoulder. she looked up. “do you still have your bracelet making kit?”

she nodded again, though you weren’t quite sure what he’d need it for. you guessed you’d find out eventually, because lando uttered, “it’s a secret, sorry baby.”

and he followed p to her small table, pulling out the kit from her backpack. she had taken lando’s hand to guide him, and you watched fondly.

too fondly, you thought, and knew you were in deep shit.

the morning of the dutch grand prix had you biting at the corners of your fingernails with anticipation. the summer break you had spent with lando was more than you could imagine— filled with delicious foods, sunny weather, morning swims, and of course, the sex. with more free time that lando had, he was utterly obsessed with you. he worshiped the ground you walked on, and it made you feel like more than the queen you deserved to be.

in the paddock you stood, shifting on your feet, anxiously fiddling with your purse once your fingernails sufficed. lily joined at your side, ethereal with her effortless beauty, and she nudged you with her elbow. “you look nervous,” she gave a short laugh.

you scoffed but joined in on her antics. “do i?” you certainly did. lily raised her brows to inquire further of your apparent distress.

relenting, you couldn’t resist her. there was no reason to— you were both practically attached at the hip. ever since oscar had been signed to mclaren, the two of you were inseparable. the famous mclaren WAGs.

your relationship with lando had been going on for two years now. sure, you’d had some rocky slopes to climb with the schedule of his career and the development of your own; that’s the thing about relationships though, isn’t it? that no matter what hill you’d have to climb, you’d find one another on the other side. the two of you wanted to make it work, so there was no obsolete universe in which you’d never find each other.

“he needs this, lils.” you practically sighed, finally gaining the courage to look her in the eye. she looked at you with the same softness that a mother would, or a best friend that you could count on.

“you know he’ll do well.” oh, don’t you know it. lando, whilst on vacation, never took a moment’s worth of rest. he wanted this just as much as you did for him, a second career win. it was all that you could think about the moment you stepped off the plane before him in zandvoort. it was going to happen. you had a feeling.

and a good one at that.

qualifying swept by in a flash. the saturday afternoon was a clean sweep for your boyfriend in the front row. you couldn’t be more proud of him. when he was finished with his interviews and taking his leave with his half removed fireguard, you launched at him.

flinging your arms around his neck, he gripped onto your waist and thighs like his life depended on it. it did. your nose found the sweat against the column of his neck, inhaling deeply. you melted into him.

lando felt the same. with his forehead burrowing into the hair on your scalp, he let out a deep breath that he’d been holding since he got out of the car.

“missed my sweet girl,” he breathed, the sweat and perspiration heating the hairs on your head. you sighed softly, relaxing into him as he held you tighter.

you broke away from him, setting yourself on the ground. you stood happily in front of him, rocking on your heels and playing with the hem of the black, sponser-ridden firesuit.

“‘m so fucking proud, lan. pole? pole on the first race back?” you were in shellshock, overjoyed disbelief.

he raised a hand to cup your face before he’d be whisked away. the bracelet on his wrist caught your eye, one that he must’ve put on once he stepped out of the car. the friendship letter bracelet read loudly to you, it letters all capitalized.

‘daddy’

you gripped his hand, observing the ornament. you raised a brow. is this the bracelet he had made with p?

lando let out a short laugh. “like it?”

you flushed, staring down at the small, dainty thing. it had you shifting on your feet, ideas and fantasies running wild through your pillage of a mind. “maybe.” you hummed, stroking the beads with your index finger.

“wore it for you.”

the statement had you standing up straight. “really now?” lando nodded.

and before he was whisked away, he whispered into your ear, “don’t get any ideas, baby. i know that look.”

you were rendered speechless, and by the time you managed to open your mouth, he had already left through the door.

the following day was race day. you were dressed flawlessly, curating perfection with your outfits to match the same prestige that lando had with his fans. also, you enjoyed feeling pretty. looking pretty, as lando would often say to you. he didn’t forget this morning either, arriving to the paddock with you in tow, hand wrapped tightly with yours.

as he took selfie after selfie, signed hat after hat, he didn’t forget to remind you, “you look beautiful,” that always brought a smile to your face, a blush fanning your cheeks.

when the two of you made it inside of mclaren’s hospitality, you were greeted by both lily and oscar. you gave her a warming hug, and she returned it with the same affirmation. when you separated, she danced on her tip-toes. lando and oscar side stepped toward the tea and coffee station, chatting amongst themselves.

“wow!” you were confused, raising a brow. “front row for him, hmm? told you, had nothing to worry about.”

you rolled your eyes, still holding anxieties for the race. you were always concerned going into a weekend. no matter how many grand prix’s you’ve attended, seen lando come out safe and sound, you still picked at the skin of your fingertips. anxious habits die hard.

lando’s managers came in alongside oscar’s beckoning both mclaren drivers to follow them to get ready for the race. lando found you instantly, his hands finding the handles on your hips, squeezing inward. you tensed at the action, wondering what had him on such edge.

you spun, hands running from his chest up to his neck, his cheeks. you cupped his face in your hands, sheepishly smiling.

“you’ll win this for me?”

he scoffed, “always.”

you smiled harder—if that was possible— and connected your lips with his. he returned your kiss, diving deep into your mouth. he held you close by your lower back, as if this was the last time that he’d ever kiss you. he sought to deepen your kiss by the clacking of your teeth, his tongue incessantly searching the inside of your mouth.

you separated yourself, still holding onto his cheeks. lando dipped his forehead against yours, seeking another kiss, but you pulled away. “go. they’re waiting for you.”

“don’t care.”

you flushed, allowing him one last peck before you patted his cheek. “seriously. go.”

he chuckled to himself, kissing the top of your head, uttering a soft “i love you,” before being swept away.

“i love you too.” you mouthed, returning your attention back to lily. she was in awe of how you and lando behaved, carving such a rugged, playful boy into a man of posture and mannerisms that were only reflected by your good nature.

“what?”

“nothing…” she looked away.

“lily.”

“you’ve got that man on a leash,” she broke into a fit of giggles. you looked back to where they were walking out. lando had been looking for you, then at you. he gave a wave, you returned it, then looked back at lily.

“i prefer the term ‘free-roaming.’”

the race was coming to an end with a single lap left. lando led the race with a twenty-two second lead, and your hands were clasped tightly together with your headset on. you listened carefully to his radio messages, sassy and revving, and had your eyes locked onto the screen in front of you. with lily by your side, the two of you were anxiously awaiting the end.

your face suddenly appeared on screen, displaying your glistening eyes, perfectly done makeup and hair. a chic smile grew on your cheeks. you turned towards the camera man and allotted a small wave. your name appeared under the screen, lando norris’ partner.

god…

was there anything more prideful than that?

surely there was, but it didn’t matter to you. you were there to support your boyfriend, lando, your lando, and it was more than enough to see that you were recognized as that.

the checkered flag appeared and lando was on the headline for crossing. you had to clutch your heart, hoping to grip it from the inside out to slow its beating, and it didn’t cease when his mcl38 zipped past the flag.

there was an eruption of cheers throughout the garage and you were swarmed with love by the fellow mechanics and lily, too, who was happy for you to witness such a grand victory. a more than well earned victory.

a second one in the books for him. you couldn’t have been happier.

the podium gathering didn’t take long, and you managed to be at the front of the barricade, shoved forward by the team. you stood there, graceful and beautiful as he always saw you, and you were the loudest to clap and cheer as he walked out from the cool down room.

“your winner, lando norris…!” and you couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, the camera picking up your emotional feedback on the big screen. his eyes caught to it from the bannister, stepping up onto the tallest podium, and found you right at the front. his heart melted, dripped a red hot flame that burned for you. to see you there for him, emotional above all, solidified his feelings. what he wanted in his future.

you. you above anything else. you above racing, his career, his everything. he had nothing if you weren’t by his side.

he took off his pirelli hat and let the national anthem play. the camera panned away from you then to zak brown. you swayed gently to the anthem, lost in your own world of loving him. you saw him through clear glasses, though he was always your rose. there was nothing more that you wanted in the future than to be with him. you and lando.

after his attributed champagne pop, the crowd dissipated from the pit lane and you engaged in conversations with different women, friends, and coworkers of mclaren. you were jovial with your presence, engaged as much as you could be, though your thoughts kept tracing back to him. lando, lando, lando.

you ended your evening in conversations with the ferrari women— alexandra, rebecca, and one of charles’ friends, marta. you’re a recent acquaintance, meeting her only just a few moments ago. she was noticeably pregnant, and you wondered if that was just the recurring theme of the day.

“how far along are you?” rebecca chimed in.

“about twenty weeks, i think.” she smiled, holding her bump and leaning back into one of her heels to get a more comfortable angle.

“half way there! are you excited?” you asked her, sipping your sparkling water.

“of course,” she grimaced, though there was joy behind her eyes. “it can be hard, but it’s worth it. always worth it to see my husband with my daughter, and now it’ll be brand new with this babe.”

you gave her a heart-warming smile.

“they kick every so often—” she grimaced again, reeling her face into a tight knot. “like right now. do you want to feel?” she was looking at you. it took you a second to understand that she was referring to you, but you jumped at the opportunity.

“are you sure…?”

marta nodded. “put your hand here,” she placed your hand on her right side. you waited a moment before there was a small lurch beneath your palm. you looked up at her in pure disbelief, marveled by such a feeling. you wondered what it’d feel like to feel your own baby kick.

“so…” alexandra leered mischievously, “do you plan on having children? with lando?”

is everyone asking that today?

you stood up straight, embarrassed by the question, and brushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. “for sure. there’s no one else i want. whenever the time is right.”

“he’d be such a good dad.” alexandra added, and you couldn’t agree more.

“you should’ve seen him earlier with penelope—” the girls were reeling at your story. “making bracelets with her. almost tripped over my own dress,” you covered your mouth to laugh, attempting to keep your voice down.

“someone has baby fever.” marta commented.

“ugh,” rebecca groaned. “you two are picturesque. alex and i were just talking about it.”

“oh?” you wished to know more by their insinuation. it wasn’t often that you listened to anything about you or lando’s relationship. half of the time it was negative comments from fans across social media, and you didn’t want the other half to get to your head. you knew you were lucky as is, the least you could do was stay humble.

“ohhhh most definitely.” alexandra nodded. “you’ve been together for what— ever? we’re waiting for an engagement post.”

you were floored. it has been a good amount of time. “so am i,” it came as a laugh. you wondered if lando thought about it. if the thought ever crossed his mind— the possibility of you becoming his wife.

it did.

he was watching you. he’d been done with his interviews for a good ten minutes now, but he was gripped by the scene unfolding before him. he had distracted himself by glancing at his phone, pretending to be scrolling through notifications. but he was staring. hard.

your hand was so tender-loving as it grazed marta’s baby bump. you looked up at her with a graceful smile, asking her important questions about her pregnancy. why were you so interested?

fuck, he hoped the answer he wanted was what you were thinking.

you, pregnant in your floral dresses, pleated gowns, traipsing around the halls of your joint home. barefoot, glowing, effervescent. he could see it now. the vision coming to life, coming to fruition from just a mere fantasy. he felt his dick twitch in his pants, his groin running hot.

he overheard the conversation, too.

“do you plan on having children? with lando?”

for sure. there’s no one else i’d want.

fuuuuck. lando had to turn around, attempting to calm himself down. his entire body was aflame, an eternal gloss of bliss for wanting you. needing you. he needed to feel you. your touch. your skin beneath him, the way you curl effortlessly against the shape of his body.

yeah, he’s fucked.

after a few calming deep breaths, he was at least presentable. with his calmed down cock, he immediately made a beeline in your direction. he wanted—no, needed to get his hands around you as soon as possible. it was a world-ending feeling that suffocated him, gripped him by the throat.

you heard him approach before you saw him. lando’s hands were warm around your hips as he pulled you close. you felt the outline of his cock in his pants as he jut his hips forward. you turned your head over your shoulder, glancing up at him.

his nose found a home in the curve of your neck. you giggled when you felt his stubble tickle your skin, a hand coming instinctively to hold the side of his face tight against your skin. he breathed soundly against you, finding eternal peace of mind plastered against your body.

“it was nice seeing you alex, rebecca.” you began to bid your farewells. “marta, it was a pleasure to meet you.” marta leaned in for a hug, which pulled you away from the warmth of lando’s body. you felt like a snail ripped from its shell— hollow, cold.

“the same for you,” pregnancy looked good on her. though, you can’t recall the last time you’ve seen her without a baby blooming inside her. “if you ever need advice…alex has my number.”

you blushed, feeling lando’s hand around your lower belly tense. “thank you. i’ll be in touch.” you glance towards rebecca and alexandra, following lando’s pace back to the car.

lando’s eyes were hot as they drilled holes into the side of your head. you could feel it, though you weren’t even looking at him. “i can feel your urge to talk, lan.”

he laughed, holding your hand tight in his. “no. no, it’s nothing.”

you stopped dead in your tracks, pulling your hand from his, crossing your arms over your chest.

“okay, okay,” he apologized, taking your hand back into his own, bringing it to his lips to kiss. his lips were warm and wet against your skin. your breath hitched.

“well, go on, then.”

“this is the congratulations i get? damn, baby, you’re rugged.”

you shoved his face away, beginning to walk back to the car once more. “you know i’m proud. don’t be silly, now.”

“i know, i know,” there was a brief silence. “you can show me in other ways.”

“lando!” you gasped, and he broke into a fit of laughter. “dirty bastard.” you mumbled.

“what was that, baby?”

“nothing. nothing. just like what you wanted to tell me, i guess.” two can play at this game. you heard him scoff, but ultimately relent.

“alright, alright. i just…” he became shy with the tone of his voice. you could recognize it instantly. “heard your conversation with the girls, is all.”

you attempted your best effort to still your facial expressions from annoyance, shock, embarrassment, and all of the fucking above.

“you heard…all of it?”

“the gist.”

you tried to cover your face to shield yourself from the world. god, that was your fucking nightmare. you hadn’t ever even touched upon a subject like that with him before. and now he had heard it from you talking to your girlfriends? oh, you just felt like the worst girlfriend in the world right now.

“fuck. i didn’t mean to—”

“no, baby,” he opened the car door for you to slip into the passenger seat. you stepped in, gripping his forearm to sit down.

when he climbed in himself and turned over the engine, you shifted to face him. before you could even open your mouth to speak, he cut you off.

“i want kids, too, you know. with you.”

“oh.” a weight lifted from your shoulders in that moment, and then you felt utterly stupid for thinking that he would’ve reacted badly. this is your lando you’re talking to. a man you can share anything with. “you do?”

he looked flabbergasted. “you’re joking, right?”

you shot your hands up in defense. “i don’t know! children aren’t exactly…temporary. i just— i didn’t know if you thought of me—”

“you’re permanent, love.” his hand wrapped around your thigh as he pulled out of the driver’s lot, whipping past the fans that were keen on snapping a picture of him.

though you’ve known that, deep down, it still hit you like the first time he told you that he loved you. a jaw-dropping epiphany that had been right in front of you the whole time. you’d been short-sighted, enjoying every moment that you had with him, and had become unknowing about the future you’ve been perpetuating with him.

you covered his hand with your own, playing with the bracelets around his wrist. the charm bracelet ‘daddy’ dangled between your fingers, rolling the beads over and over again.

“you’d make a good daddy, wouldn’t you?” you said the words under your breath, but even he could hear them like you’d shouted them in his face. he tightened his grip around your thigh.

“don’t say things like that,” he shook his head, eyes locked on the road ahead.

the air became heavy between you two. when wasn’t it? not only did passion run through your veins, but heinous desire breathed life to your souls.

“why?” you stroked the top of his hand with your nails. “you heard what i said to the girls.” his head lolled against the back rest. “what’s different now?”

you felt the car accelerate. it vibrated the cushion you were nestled atop of, sending shockwaves through your cunt.

“driving me fucking nuts, darling.”

you knew you were. it was the secret to your relationship— the two of you understanding what made you tick. seethe with lust until there was no other option for you to climb him like a tree.

it didn’t take long before he reached the hotel, pulling up to the front. you were getting your things to get up, but he was lost on his phone, pretending to be busy. “coming?” you asked.

“pfft—” you could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror. “i wish. give me a second.” you couldn’t help but huff to yourself under your breath, stepping out of the car with your heels clinking to the ground.

with your purse over your shoulder you stepped up onto the curb, but was distracted by a small voice echoing over your shoulder.

down the sidewalk was a mother and a stroller. you smirked lowly, taking only the few steps it’d take to reach the mother and child.

“oh my gosh,” you squealed. the mother was taken back, but by your demeanor and eyes on her baby, she returned a smile. by her pink bonnet and bunny swath, you knew she was the cutest thing you’d ever laid eyes on. “she is just the cutest thing!”

“thank you,” the woman said.

“she looks just like her mama,” you heard lando’s car door open, most definitely within earshot. “don’t you, sweet thing? yes you do!” you cooed at the baby, who erupted in a fit of louder giggles and mumbles.

the mother was flushed, but happy. “you’re too kind. you’re good with children? do you have any of your own?”

jackpot..!!

you clutched your purse as you stood up straight. you played into your theatrics, “oh gosh, i wish! my husband and i have been trying for ages, but he’s just so busy with work…”

the woman tsked with disappointment for you. “you’d make a beautiful mother,”

“you think so?”

she nodded her affirmation.

“that’s so sweet of you.” you were really milking this scene, especially that you knew lando was listening.

“is that your husband there?” she pointed to over your shoulder. and there he was, your husband, watching the two of you from behind the ajar car door.

“mmm, yes, it is.” you offered a cordial wave to him. he stuck two fingers up for a lazy wave, waiting for you to return to him. “i should go. it was a pleasure, ma’am. your baby is adorable.”

she nodded a thanks, and you took your sweet time walking back to the car. you could hear lando tapping the windshield incessantly. before his head dipped down back into the car he called, “get back in.”

you…admit, you were confused. brows furrowed, you opened the passenger side door and bent down, “why—?”

“get in the car,” your name was a rumble in his chest. you still didn’t know what he was doing nor going, and your stubborn self wouldn’t settle for a verbal answer.

you took too long for him. gripping your arm, he pulled you into the passenger seat, and you landed on your ass with a ‘thump’.

he fired up the engine again and pulled out of the traffic circle of the hotel. he radiated with heat— you could feel it from where you sat. “where are we going?”

he didn’t answer you.

you crossed your arms and legs, looking out the window. the area was unknown to you, but lando always seemed like he knew where he was going.

it took only a minute for him to pull into an empty level of a parking garage, dimly lit with only one overhead light at the entrance of the ramp. he put the car in park.

“what are we—”

you couldn’t finish your sentence until you were on his lap, hands gripping your waist so tightly that you had to gasp for air.

“husband?”

oh…!

well, this was a change you welcomed with open arms.

he lowered the seat back until you were straddled atop of him, fingers aimlessly toiling with the zipper of his jeans.

“don’t know what you’re—”

he snapped upward, gripping your chin between his forefinger and thumb. “baby,” he breathed, and you shivered. “what do you want?”

your hips naturally moved back and forth against his own, dress hiked well above your stomach. his hand snaked between your legs, feeling the wet patch in your underwear. he hummed when you didn’t reply, flicking his finger upward to graze your clit.

you mewled.

“what was that?”

your hand twisted around the hem of his shirt. you were already breathless, clenching around nothing except the sound of his words.

“tell me,” he muttered, staring up at your disheveled state. he made quick work of sliding your panties to the side, massaging the folds of your cunt between his fingers. you continued your writhing against him.

“want you,” was what you managed to breathe out, hips rutting against his palm. he tsked, but allowed you this moment. a moment for him to bask in the way that you move your hips, writhe against his clothed cock that was egregiously hardening by the second and each amount of pressure you applied.

he slid his fingers in and out of you with ultra maneuvering, in and out, all around. he was a mastermind when it came to feeling you up, exploring you both on the outside, and the in. you were in heaven, ultimately, when he curled his fingers so deeply upon thrusting them. your cunt tightened so viciously around him that he groaned, his head falling back and his hardened cock thrusting upward. to no avail, his dick was strained against the cloth of his pants.

“fuck,” he cussed, curling his fingers over and over again. your body began to shiver, and only began to fall from grace when his thumb traced against your clit. stimulation grew hotter and hotter, until you let out a piercing moan from the depths of your throat. he angled his fingers differently, making you squirm.

“lando!” you breathed, feeling your climax creeping up on you faster than you could even blink. your core tightened, a coil of veracious flames churning around each other manifesting a slew of energy that released sparks from your nerves. your folds were inflamed, puffy, beating hot that you couldn’t think straight. lando was touching you with his other hand anywhere that he could reach. he palmed your breasts through your dress, twisted a nipple to earn a delicious squeal.

“come on, sweet thing,” he encouraged you with that stupid lopsided smile of his, you were looking down on him, sweat beading at his forehead, pupils blown dark and wide. his hand that was groping your breast moved upward, threading around the column of your throat. “show daddy what you’re made of.”

his hand tightened, and you felt the coil snap. he continued to pump his fingers in and out, maneuvering so perfectly, hitting that exact spot with precision.

he knew you came when your eyes rolled back into your head, legs quivering around his waist. god, you’re a sexy thing.

his hand loosened from around your neck, dropping to your chest, fiddling with the van cleef necklace he had gifted you. it reeked of possession, marking you as his with the “l.n.” initials engraved on the back of the golden surface.

the moment of bliss passed before he was pulling the zipped down from your dress and throwing it from over your head. your panties were next, though the fabric was thin as is. there you were, bare and glistening, before your so-called ‘husband’ as you had worded it. he wouldn’t forget it, a spark igniting within him that was lit by the phrase leaving your tongue. he didn’t think that it would affect him so much—

but it did.

he made quick work of his own pants, shoving them down to his knees beneath you, breathless and needy.

you gripped the hem of his shirt. he lifted his arms to hasten the process, and the shirt went to the back seat. with his skin exposed, you couldn’t help but run your hands along his tan, toned chest. it made you dripping wet, though he was barely touching you now.��

with your skin atop of his, carnage was sure to ensue. he took a drag of his fingers against your wet cunt and brought it to his lips. he sucked on them, releasing with a ‘pop.’ your mouth hung open in anticipation for what he was going to do next. he always kept you on your toes.

but this…this is not what you expected.

he took a ring from his index finger, plated in silver, and slid it onto your ring finger on your left hand. the wedding finger.

it stuck to your sweaty palm, sure enough to not slip off.

“let’s make it official then, pretty girl.”

you sat upon him astonished, looking down at the adornment that he had given to you. it dazzled on your finger.

“if you’re my wife, what does that make me?”

the words trembled from your lips, thighs tightening around his own. you could feel his dick sprung to life against your backside. “my husband.”

“good, baby, you learn fast.”

you gulped, finally taking a look at him from his propped upright position. he was downright smitten with you, guzzling everything about you inside of him. you were his, so much fucking so, that he was going to ruin you. and he didn’t even feel bad for wanting it.

“my husband…” you repeated, lowering your face down to meet his own. he smelled so good—a mix of sweat and his cologne.

his hand tangled into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail to meet your eye level.

“makes me fucking crazy when y’say it…”

you knew that was the truth. you’d known the minute you sat down in the car. his demeanor had changed, shifted to something darker that you didn’t quite understand. it was insane enough as is that you’d discovered so many things about him within a short period of time.

“husband, daddy…what’s the difference?” you cooed, kissing up and down his neck. he groaned, landing a smack on your ass that had you giggling.

“‘ll just make you a mommy if you keep throwin’ that word ‘round.”

you grinned ear to ear. against his cheek, you took a deep breath in, before letting go.

“daddy.”

if you’ve ever made a good decision in your life, this has to be the best. a switch flipped. gears started to turn in his head. the spark plug burst into flames.

you were his undoer,

the key to his shackled restraint,

the sun to his universe.

it was always you. you’d been right in front of him for the past two years. two years to get to this point. two years for the woman he loved most in this world to be sucking his neck whispering ‘daddy’ into his ear.

lando sat upright in the seat. with a hand at the back of your head, he forced eye contact with you. this was different. this look. you could feel it in your heart, your folds, as they began to beat synchronously. life with him was euphoria, and sex had been the serendipitous release for both of you.

but seeking the future together?

heaven incarnate.

despite being locked inside such a tight space, lando managed to swap your position with a suave move. you were on your back, shocked by his carnal rampage, as he hooked your legs upward. your toes scathed the ceiling of the car, pressed deep into the metal chassis.

“kiss me,” you demanded with the breath that you could take. he didn’t waste a second, leaning down to your lips and capturing you with the most breathtaking press that he could muster. his tongue and your own fought for dominance over one another; you lost, quickly, unable to match his revered pace.

he wanted to eat you from top to bottom. devour your insides, carry you with him every day of his life. you would be his, one way or another, and he didn’t care how it was.

lucky enough, you were more than willing to be his bride, his lover, his person.

because he was yours.

then he was inside of you. braving the treachery of your tight walls, he hissed when the tip of his cock slipped through your folds. you’d been dripping on the leather seat.

“fuck, baby…” his head fell to the crevice of your neck and collarbone.

“oh my goddd…” the moan you both let out was terribly lewd, grotesque, even, with how he didn’t start a pace. you both savored this sweet moment of lust, passion, and a figurative toast to a lifelong commitment to fucking one another.

with each thrust he took, he aimed to make a statement. deeper and deeper he penetrated you, his cock crafted of divine measure with how he quartered your g-spot.

you could never stay still beneath him. it had him on edge the way you squirmed. dare say it was one of the most favorite things about you, though the list would be never-ending. you shiver from pleasure, leaning into him as your cunt squelches beneath you.

echoes of moans bounce off the interior of the car, whilst a smile of greed and possession conceives on his own cheeks. the angle he has you at is deeper than any that you’ve had before— it left no room for noncommittal nature, no room for you to complain about wanting him closer, more, more, more.

“y’feel me here?” his hand rest on your lower belly, your womb, as he applied pressure. you do feel him there. the indent of his cock is poignant, bulging out from the skin.

“mhm…!” you whine, trying to keep your mouth shut from the onslaught of moans pouring out.

his attention turned to your tits as he swallowed a nipple whole with his tongue, sucking feverishly at the sensitive bud. it had you weak, dribbling to puddy.

he could only think about how you’d look pregnant. swollen tits, round belly, glowing with his child.

“this what you wanted?” he grunted, his pace quickening. you were too dumb to speak, a droplet of drool leaking from your mouth. “hm? fuck you—fuck, fill you up?”

your back arched at the sentence, not knowing that his words could have such an arousing effect on you. this arousal was different. the way you clench around him was different. your actions spoke a lot louder than your words.

“yeah? i can feel you, darling.” sounds of skin slapping and your hoarse voice could only be heard. he fucked you so good, treated you even better. fuck it, you’d rather be pregnant than anything else.

“please, please…” you didn’t know what you were pleading for, in truth— he was already fucking you like he’d been in a rut.

“yeah? that what you want? want a baby?”

your head nodded furiously up and down, tears of pleasure streaming down your cheeks. lando bent down to kiss them away, followed by a capturing of your lips. he swallowed your breaths, your moans. he trailed kisses down the column of your throat; your collarbones, breasts, nipples, nothing went untouched by his mouth.

“god…these…” he muttered against your tits, voice sending shockwaves through your body. “imagine how big they’d be.” he managed to chuckle to himself. “swollen and beautiful,” he kissed the top of your abdomen.

“lando…”

his head shot up from his daze.

“the time is right. please, please—” your words seemed to hit him like a truck. the foreplay had turned reality, and he was more than ready to lurch into fate.

“what, pretty girl?”

your face flushed, biting your lip. “give me a baby, need it—lan, need it so bad.” your hand found the back of his neck, tugging on the strands of his hair.

he tsked, his pace evening out to a level throttle. your lips formed a sweet pout, and he stroked your chin with his index finger. “give you?” he mocked. “oh, don’t think that’s how we ask, do we?”

“lan…please, please, can i have your baby? need it so bad lando, need it…” you swallowed your breath. “daddy…wanna make you a daddy…please.”

it was more than enough for him. “atta girl.” he grunted, deepening his lackluster thrusts into thrilling rides on his cock. “y’learn fast…kids ‘r gonna be so smart.”

“yes, yes! so good, lan.” you heaved, the heat in your cunt finding a boiling point, and he felt it by how tight you became around him.

“go on, baby, take it. be a good girl and take it all.” you’d do anything to hear your lando call you a good girl. it had been more than enough to send you over the edge into a spiraling orgasm that had slick seeping around his cock. your vision whitened, and you could only see the shadow of your ‘husband’ through the light.

with sloppy thrusts, lando came with ease. he didn’t pull out urgently, letting his cum soak inside of you. he peppered kisses along your ankles, your calves, and let them fall to the seat.

out of breath, your chests rose and fell at a rapid pace. lando’s forehead connected with your own, and through the haze of post-sex, he smiled at you.

you smiled back. the two of you broke into a laugh.

“fuckin’ knew that was gonna happen today.” he commented lazily into your chest. a hand of yours threaded through his brown curls.

“your mastermind plan to babytrap me.”

he raised a brow. “did you plan on leaving?”

you gave him a knowing look. “not in the slightest.”

he became embarrassed and sheepish as he hid his face into your ribs. “no chance of it, now.”

you chuckled, flexing your fingers to see the ring still there. “i want a real proposal, by the way.”

his head shot up. “what? this wasn’t good enough?”

you palmed his face with one hand, and tugged the back of his curled head with the other. “bastard.”

it only took you two ten minutes to get your clothes back on from such a leisurely excursion from the empty parking garage. covered in his spit, sweat, and cum, you didn’t feel….dirty.

when he finally pulled up to the valet and opened the door for you, you stepped out as graciously as possible. though your hair was a tangled mess— you tried your best. lucky enough it was late enough to where minimal paparazzi were gathered. thank god.

you shifted on your feet, shimmying the dress down, but lando came to your rescue. he pulled the dress down where it was crumpled at the back, caught between the hem of your soaked underwear.

“that was a rental, wasn’t it?” you pointed out, looking over your shoulder.

“they should auction it.”

you spun around and laughed in his face, gagged by the ego he has. “you have a big head.”

“need all that room for you.”

“cheesy.”

lando’s eyes lit up— though exhausted from the day and your antics, the sun still rose for him— “almost forgot—” he reached into his pocket whilst you waited patiently.

he pulled out a bracelet.

a friendship bracelet.

“thought it suited you.” he put it around your wrist, and you analyzed it clearly. in white, capitalized letters it read:

“MOMMY”

“you really had this thing planned.” you were impressed.

he shifted on his heels, throwing his hands up as if saying ‘what can i say?’ “p thinks you’re pregnant now.”

you gasped. “lando!”

“i mean…hopefully.” he winked as you fiddled with the jewelry, still not bothering to take off the ring from your finger.

“well…” you brought a finger to your lips, thinking, “we have to be certain, don’t we?”

lando was catching your drift as you walked backwards towards the entrance of the hotel, luring him in with your charisma. “perhaps…”

“so…we need to try again.” he wasn’t going to argue with that. “and again.” or that. “and again, for good measure.”

“you’re gonna kill me, baby.” he whined, chasing you up the steps. you squealed, running forward. inside the elevator you two went, clicking the floor for your room.

after further inspection, lando’s brows furrowed after he glanced over you. “what?”

he covered his mouth to shield his devious smile.

“what, lando?”

he coughed to hide his amusement, but it was a very bad act. “you’re…”

“what?”

“you’re dripping.”

you looked down at your thighs and saw the glistening reflection of his cum seeping out of you. fuck. maybe the first time was the charm, but you hoped it wasn’t.

you really hoped it wasn’t.

tags ; @landoslutmeout@basicallyric@mybluesoul1@toriiez@customsbyjcg-blog@sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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whosmariaaa · 3 months ago

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part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7 !

college! sukuna was indeed head over heels. he couldn’t stop thinking about you. you and your attitude, the way you didn’t take his shit. and maybe the fact that you were playing hard to get.

you were actually not, because you did not want him at all, and you hated his guts more than anything. especially right now.

“are you actually being for real? sukuna, the project is due in a week! and you haven’t done shit! you told me you would!” you told him in irritation. though you were growing more stressed than irritated. this project was a really big part of your grade, and if this wasn’t done right, you were screwed.

he was looking at your face with a lazy grin, though you doubted he was paying attention to anything you were saying.

“uh huh, just chill out, y/n,” sukuna shrugged, unbothered.

“chill out? i’ve been working my ass off for my part of the project, and you haven’t done a single thing!” you rejoined.

he raised an eyebrow. “are you sure? cause i’ve seen your part of the project, and it’s fucking shit—“

SMACK!

heads turned at the loud noise, but you couldn’t possibly care less. “i’m so fucking done with you! get your shit together! you finish your part of the project in two days, or i’m kicking your ass out!” you snapped before storming out of the library.

sukuna held a hand on the cheek that was starting to go a little red from the hit he just took. he wasn’t angry, or irritated. he just watched you go with a slight smirk.

no one ever dared to hurt sukuna and get away with it. that man was menacing, and could get people begging on their knees quickly.

but you? he let you. honestly, you were the most entertainment he was getting since forever. every single little thing you did out of anger, only made his infatuation for you grow. sukuna loved the thrill he got out of you.

two days later, he told you he finished his part of the project. which took a whole lot of weight of your shoulders, because you were starting to grow grey hairs at this rate.

and honestly, something in you told you to trust him. he had phenomenal grades, after all. so, not until a few hours before the deadline did you decide to check his part of the project.

you regretted it. spelling mistakes, grammar errors, nothing on the paper made sense. it was genuinely terrible. and suddenly, you felt as if you were growing grey hairs again. you called sukuna for nth time that hour, but when it send you to voicemail once more, you took it on yourself to fix this crap.

you spend your entire evening and night in complete stress, trying to fix what you could. and you eventually had to send it in, due to the dead line nearing. anxiety was surging through you. but maybe, the professor took mercy on grading projects.

the next few days, you avoided him altogether. no matter what he did or said, you ignored him and kept walking. you were too anxious about the project’s results to even start a fight with him.

and when your grade finally came in, you wanted to die. a 49%. all that hard work, and for what? and on top of that, now you were failing this class too.

after class you confronted him, angrily. but you struggled to conceal how you really felt about all this. you felt like crying, but you kept it in.

“you look pissed. what’s up, baby?” sukuna asked, leaning down condescendingly.

“what the fuck do you think? maybe the 49% on our project? you said you did your part of the project!” you retorted furiously.

he scoffed, “so? i never said i was going to try. i told you to not expect me to give a shit, didn’t i?” he taunted.

sukuna wasn’t taking you seriously at all. he just looked down at you with his stupid, stupid smirk.

you felt your legs go a little wobbly. you felt like shit, actually. and right now, you couldn’t stop the tears either as they welled up in your eyes.

“you’re a piece of fucking shit, sukuna! i hate you so fucking much! fuck you!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly.

sukuna went silent for a moment at the sight of the tears pooling in your eyes, “shit, baby. i didn’t think you’d care this much,” he replied, though his tone was slightly less mocking.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you wiped your tears and got out of there. you couldn’t deal with all this anymore. and definitely not with him right now.

sukuna just stood there, with a weird feeling bubbling in his stomach at seeing you cry. he was quiet, with his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“damn. what’cha do? cheat on her?” gojo chimed in, placing his hand on sukuna’s shoulder. but before gojo could react, he slammed him against the wall, and grabbed his collar.

“gojo, i told you to shut the fuck up about her. when the fuck are you going to get a hint? or should i beat the shit out of you first?” he threatened.

he felt himself get pushed off. “calm your ass down,” toji huffed. gojo just scratched his head. he was used to sukuna’s aggression, but not this kind of anger over a girl.

“whatever. watch what the fuck you say, gojo,” he warned firmly. gojo just shot his hands up in defence, “okay, okay. my bad. i won’t start talking about your girl again.”

sukuna’s eye twitched, but he sighed and just let it rest. he still felt like crap about you crying. he didn’t even know why, he made plenty girl cry before. but seeing you cry, made his heart feel heavy.

“fuck is wrong with you?” toji asked, though his tone was calm. sukuna stayed silent for a few moments.

“i fucked up,” he grumbled after a while. toji and gojo exchanged glances, not really sure what to do about all this. sukuna didn’t know either, and that made him feel even more shitty.

──★˙🍓̟!! hi babes!!!! thank you so so so much gor all the love, may God bless u all💞💞 and i’m so sorry i’m very busy with school rn i have a test week so pls forgive me if im a little slow w updates! ill also attempt to do a taglist in part 6, tysm for the patience!

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soaps-mohawk · 18 days ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 54: The Farm

Summary: You adjust to your life on the MacTavish farm and learn some surprising things about yourself.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,237 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, A/B/O, alternate universe, angst, emotions, fluff, animals, you might fall in love with a fictional dog, slight language.

A/N: I love this chapter and I hope you will too!

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re trying to fight the tears as they sting your eyes, desperately trying to stop them from falling as you walk back towards the house. Lily steps aside, letting you enter before closing the door behind you.

“Aw, hen.” She coos, rubbing your back. “It’s okay tae cry.”

You can’t stop them. They would have fallen without the permission, but being allowed to cry only makes them fall faster. Lily wraps her arms around you, pulling you tight against her chest. Her hand strokes your hair as she coos softly at you, rocking you back and forth gently.

“Saying goodbye is always hard.” She says softly. “I damn near cry a river when Johnny-boy leaves. It’s hard when ye don’t know how long it’ll be until ye see them again. I’m sure ye know that well.”

“Yeah.” You sniffle. You don’t know when you’ll see Johnny or Simon again. If you’ll see them again. You shove that thought aside into the deep recesses of your mind. You have enough to cry about, you’re not going to entertain those kinds of thoughts right now.

Lily kisses the top of your head before pulling back, wiping your tears with her shirt sleeve. “There we go.” You sniffle, trying to stop the flood sliding down your cheeks. There’s a wet spot on her shirt, but she doesn’t seem to even notice. She gives you a soft smile, holding your face in her hands. “Ye remind me of my youngest girl. So sweet and soft and polite. All beta. Quite the opposite of the rest of her siblings. She’s in medical school now training tae be an omega specialist.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. It makes you think of Dr. Keller and how she’s doing with her new job, how things are going with Ashley. Maybe you’ll ask John if he knows when you see him again.

“I’m sure she’ll be great at it.” You say. “Takes a lot of patience to work with omegas sometimes.”

You think about how much patience Dr. Keller had for you at the beginning, while she worked on helping you through your trauma and unlearning what the institute taught you. It had taken a long time, but you’re here today because of her and everything she did for you.

“I had an omega specialist on base for a while.” You say. “I owe a lot to her for getting me through those first few months.”

“I’m so glad ye had someone tae support ye.” Lily says, petting your hair. The tears have slowed to almost none. “I’m sure it was a great help.”

“I don’t know if I would have made it without her.” You say quietly.

“I think you could have. There’s a strength to ye. A quiet strength. I can see it.” Lily says, squeezing you against her chest one more time. “Ye’d have tae have it putting up with those boys.”

You giggle, hugging her back for a moment before she releases you.

“Come on,” She says, patting your head. “I have someone I want ye tae meet.”

You tilt your head as she moves into the house, heading for the back door. You follow, unsure who else you have to meet besides maybe the sheep.

“Here,” She says, pulling out a pair of boots. “These should work until we can get ye a proper pair of Wellies in town.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, toeing out of your tennis shoes.

“Course we do.” She says, slipping on her own boots. Storm stands at the door, ready to run out as soon as its open. “Ye need a pair anyway.”

You don’t argue, following her out the door.

The back yard is spacious, a garden set up in one corner, and a veranda in the other with a barbecue. You can imagine sitting out there in the summer, eating a hot dog and watching the sun set over the green hills. Storm races around the yard, tail wagging, all excited.

“Still young at heart.” Lily says as she walks down the path towards the gate. There’s a barn off to the right in the distance, a dirt road leading between the pastures.

You can see why she insisted on the boots now as the ground gets muddy beyond the gate.

“Murray is over the hill with the sheep.” She says, pointing off to the right where a hill rises. “Spends most of his day out there.” She opens a gate to the left, passing through before holding it open for you. “I like to spend my time in here.”

Your boots squelch as you walk through the muddy grass towards a smaller barn.

“Ye ever lived on a farm before?” Lily asks as you approach what looks like a chicken coop.

“No,” you answer. “We always lived close to the base my dad was stationed at. We moved around too much to have animals.”

“He was in the service?” She asks.

You nod. “Marines. It was his entire personality.”

She chuckles. “Usually is.” She pauses in front of the coop. “These are my girls. I let them out early and collect eggs.”

There’s ten chickens that you can count roving around the coop. It’s decent sized, bigger than you would have imagined.

“I leave them in there so the hawks don’t get ‘em.” She says. “Now, who I wanted ye to meet,” She continues towards the barn, the grass getting more and more solid as you go.

You walk up a small hill to the barn, something standing beside it. Something large and brown.

“This here is my coo, Mabel.” Lily says, walking right up to the cow.

You nearly die of cuteness on the spot. Mabel is a highland cow, all thick hair and horns and perhaps the cutest cow you’ve ever seen.

“Ye can get close. She’s very sweet.” Lily says, patting Mabel on the side.

You step up to her, holding out a hand. “Hello Mabel.” You say, Mabel nosing at your hand for a moment. You pet her nose, feeling the coarse, thick hair draped over her face.

“She’s due for a haircut.” Lily says, brushing some of the hair to the side so Mabel can see better. “And she’ll start sheddin’ soon.”

“I love her.” You say, scratching Mabel between the horns.

“Yer welcome tae come out here whenever you’d like.” Lily says. “Mabel comes and goes out of her barn as she pleases. She’s good for some cuddles when you need some love.” Lily grins at you. “She’s a great listener too.”

You smile, continuing to pet Mabel.

You might just like living on a farm after all.

You had stayed with Mabel even after Lily had gone into the house to start on dinner. It wasn’t even lunch yet, but still she insisted on starting early for a proper Sunday roast. Lily had been right about Mabel being a good listener. She hadn’t minded you hugging her, leaning your weight against her body, petting her hair as you told her all of your woes and fears. Storm had stayed in the field with you, running around before settling in the grass with a stick.

Storm followed you back to the house around lunchtime, when you’d left Mabel with a pat and a promise to come back tomorrow. She hadn’t given much of a response, but somehow deep down you knew she understood.

“Will ye wipe her feet with the towel, hen?” Lily called from the kitchen when you entered with Storm.

“Yeah,” You say, spotting the towel hanging near the door. Storm stands dutifully, letting you wipe most of the mud off of her feet. She licks your face before heading for the kitchen, abandoning you for the prospect of food. You don’t mind. Your stomach is growling too.

“How many sandwiches would ye like, hen?” Lily asks, bringing a platter of chips and vegetables to the table.

“Just one.” You answer. She gives you a sideways glance. “I could probably eat two though.”

She smiles. “Two it is then. I won’t have ye going hungry here.”

You don’t doubt she means that.

“Murray’ll be in, in a bit.” She says, setting a plate of two sandwiches in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “He can make his own.”

“I could make my own too.” You suggest quietly.

“Nonsense.” Lily says, waving away the idea. “Yer a guest. I’m more’n happy tae feed ye.”

“Thank you, for doing all of this.” You say, taking a bite of your sandwich.

“Of course,” She says, grabbing a carrot off the platter. “John said ye were havin’ trouble bein’ on base. I wasnae gonna let ye live somewhere ye weren’t comfortable. Besides, I’ve been excited tae meet ye, get tae know ye.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet their families too.” You say. “I’ve met Kyle’s sister but that was it before now.”

“Aye, those Garricks are something special.” She says.

“They really are.” You grin. “Like perfect angels.”

“Indeed.” She says.

Silence falls over the table as you eat, Storm sitting by your side on the floor, staring longingly at your food. You’re tempted to ‘accidentally’ drop a piece but you’re not sure if that’ll be allowed so instead you try and look away, ignoring those big puppy eyes staring into your soul.

Murray comes in right before you finish eating, toeing off his boots at the door. His pants are splattered with mud, as is his shirt as he pulls off his jacket.

“Yers are in the kitchen.” Lily says, finishing off her own sandwich.

“Thank ye, love.” He kisses Lily’s cheek before heading into the kitchen.

“I hear ye like tae read.” Lily says, turning back to you.

You nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Well help yerself to any of the books on the shelves. The kids have some books in their rooms too. Yer more’n welcome tae browse those too.” She says, standing from the table. She takes your plate, heading to the kitchen as Murray comes out with his own plate of sandwiches.

“Did ye have a good mornin’?” He asks, taking his seat at the head of the table.

You nod. “I got to see the chickens and met Mabel.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Mabel’s a sweet old girl.”

“She is. I’ve never been around animals, outside of a few petting zoos.” You say. “But I already like Mabel a lot.”

“Aye, we’ll turn ye into a farm girl in no time.” Murray grins. “Ye can see the sheep when I bring ‘em in later too.”

“I’d like that.” You say.

After lunch you settle into the couch with a book pulled off one of the many shelves in the room. Storm has joined you, curling up beside you with her head in your lap.

“That dog really likes ye.” Lily says as she joins you, pulling out her knitting.

You smile, petting Storm’s head. “I’m not sure why.”

“Dogs are good judges of character.” She says. “She senses something in ye.”

You scratch behind Storm’s ears as silence falls over the room again and you return to reading your book. You wonder if it’s really true, if Storm can sense something about you that’s drawing her in. Whatever it is, you’re glad she likes you. It could be the opposite, you suppose. She could dislike you. You wonder what that would say about your character if that were the case.

Regardless, you’re growing to find her presence comforting. The entire house is comforting, despite the turmoil you still feel inside. The farm is a good distraction, but in these moments of silence you know you’re going to struggle the most. These moments where you have to be present, you have to face down the truth that you’re hundreds of miles from your pack and there’s still a couple weeks before you’ll see them again...before you’ll see John again. It’ll be just you and John for a while. Then Kyle will join you. Then you’ll be three separated from the two others.

It breaks your heart that they won’t retire, but you’d never admit that.

Maybe someday they’ll make that decision, but you know it won’t be anytime soon.

You shift on the couch, Storm lifting her head before settling back down, adjusting herself so she’s even closer to you than she was before, almost as if she can sense the shift in your emotions.

You scan the photos on the wall in the hallway. You’ve been roving around waiting for dinner to be ready, taking in all of the artwork and the many photos decorating the walls. Photos of Johnny and his siblings as kids, family portraits, artistic shots of the farm and the animals and the kids with them. You’ve even found a framed photo of Storm and Bron on the wall.

You pass by a shadow box decorated with military medals and stripes. You’d almost assume it was Johnny’s but you know he’ll still wear his when the occasion requires. No, these are Murray’s. Chief Petty Officer MacTavish.

“You served?” You ask as the man himself rounds the corner.

He pauses, glancing at the box before nodding. “Aye. Royal Navy. Joined as soon as I graduated. Didnae know what else tae do with myself. I was forced to retire when Johnny was still a lad. Hip injury.” He smiles as he stares at the medals. “Moved the family out here, bought a few sheep, rest is history.”

“You must be proud of Johnny then.” You say. You can piece together that his father’s history with the armed forces played a role in his own decision to join.

“Aye. Though his job scares the piss out of me sometimes.” He pats your back. “I hear your own father served.”

You nod as the two of you walk down the hall. “Marines.” You say. “I can’t imagine him doing anything else. He was...very patriotic. Spent a lot of time preaching the necessity of giving our lives to protect the country to us kids. Two of my three older brothers joined too. The rest of us went on to do other things. I never thought I’d be back in it, though.”

“That must have been a shock.” Lily says as the two of you arrive at the table. She’s setting a pan of roast beef on the table. “I can only imagine what it was like tae leave that world only to be right back in it.”

“I was in deeper than I was with my dad.” You say, taking your seat. “It was an adjustment, but I’ll honestly say I’m glad I’m getting to leave it behind.”

“I don’t blame ye one bit.” She says, taking a seat at the table. “The stress is unimaginable, even when they’re not goin’ off tae war.” She passes a glance at Murray. “I’m glad yer gettin’ this chance.”

“Aye, I’m proud of John fer retiring. It’s time he settled down.” Murray says, staring to load his plate.

Roast beef, mashed potatoes, vegetables, yorkshire pudding. A proper Sunday roast, or so you’re told.

“You know him well?” You ask curiously as you start to load your own plate.

“Aye, he’s been here a few times since Johnny joined his pack.” Murray says.

“We were skeptical at first, but he proved himself alright.” Lily says. “He’s a good alpha, and a good man.”

“But whatever magic ye worked tae get him to retire…” Murray grins. “Consider it an act of god.”

You smile bashfully, your face warming just a bit. “I’m not sure what I did exactly, besides just existing in his life.”

“Sometimes that’s all a man needs.” Lily says, giving you a smile.

The Sunday roast is delicious. It’s better than what you ate at restaurants in town during the weekends that John insisted everyone go out for Sunday dinner. It’s even better than your own attempts at the cottage, though you’d never tell Dr. Keller that.

You’ll have to get some recipes from Lily before you leave.

After dinner the three of you settle in the living room again, Murray turning on the TV. Storm lays at your feet, Bron laying between you and Murray. You’ve got a beer in your hand, cold where it rests against your leg. Murray hadn’t even asked, instead passing one to you silently. You’d taken it, knowing it would be rude to refuse. It’s not your first time drinking by far. You and your brothers used to sneak sips here and there during barbecues and holidays, and the guys have made sure to corrupt you in that way.

Still, the alcohol makes you feel warm as you drink it, chasing away the nerves that nightfall brings.

A lot of things can happen at night, and you can feel the looming darkness outside. It’s darker here than on base, no light pollution to offer some respite from the inky blackness outside.

You’ve been avoiding looking at the windows, even with the curtains closed.

Despite the nagging fear at the back of your brain, the beer makes you feel warm and fuzzy. That, and Storm’s comforting presence against your feet. It’s nice knowing there’s someone that will sense something off before even you can.

It’s late by the time you decide to call it a night. Storm follows you to your room, standing in the doorway as you pull clothes out of your bag.

“C’mon Stormy.” Lily says, patting her back. “Goodnight, hen.”

“Goodnight.” You call, watching Storm hesitate before heading down the hallway with Lily.

You get ready for bed before turning out the light, crawling under the covers. You can still smell a bit of Johnny on the pillow and blankets. You breathe in his spicy, citrusy scent. It blends with the earthy scent of John on your shirt, offering up a comforting cocktail of your boys. You wish they were there still in person, but you’ll take their scents.

You wonder how long it will be until they fade away. You doubt they’ll last the entire time you’re here.

You grab your phone from the nightstand, pulling up John’s number. He had texted you earlier letting you know they made it safe, but you need to hear his voice. You listen to it ring, holding your breath. It’s late, and you half expect him to be in bed already. He has an early morning tomorrow, unless he decides to skip working out...you doubt he’ll do that though, now that he doesn’t have you to worry about.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His voice is rough, tired sounding.

“Hi,” you greet him quietly quietly, letting out a breath. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” There’s rustling on the other side of the line. “I was laying awake.”

“Same.” you say, pulling the covers up around you.

“How are things going up there?” He asks.

“Good.” you answer honestly. “I met a cow today.”

“Did you?” he chuckles. “How did that go?”

“Good. I really like her. She’s a good listener.” you listen to his chuckle on the other end. “Storm has also really taken to me.”

“Good,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Lily and Murray treating you alright?”

“Yeah,” you say, rolling onto your side. “They’re amazing. Lily’s a really good cook. Makes me feel sorry for you that you’re going to have to eat my cooking.”

“Your cooking isn’t that bad.” He says. “I survived on it at the cottage.”

“Yeah but that was only a couple times. I can make like three things confidently.”

“Then we’ll learn together. We’ll only have to survive until Kyle’s paperwork is approved. Then he can cook. It’ll be good for him, having something to do.”

What are you going to do? You want to ask it but you’re not sure how well that will go over. What is he going to do once he’s retired? Maybe you can convince him to start a farm. It would be good for him to have some physical work to do every day. He’s used to never having a day off, and you don’t get days off on a farm.

You’ll worry about that later, when the time actually comes.

“How are things down there?” You ask. “How are the boys.”

“Coping.” He says. “Johnny pouted the entire way home. It’s not the same being just us again. We got so used to your presence it feels empty.”

A small smile forms on your lips. “It feels weird not having you here with me. I’m not sure I can survive.”

“I think we can make it.” He says. “It’s only for a couple weeks at most. By the end you’ll be sad to leave.”

“I do like it here.” You muse. “It’s cozy and comfortable and I like having animals around. Wish you were here though.”

“Soon.” He says, muffling a yawn.

“You should get some sleep. Early morning tomorrow, right?”

He hums. “Earlier than I’d like.”

“Ready to retire?” You ask.

“I can feel it coming.” He says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You should get some rest too. I know you didn’t sleep well last night.”

You likely won’t sleep well tonight either, but you won’t tell him that. You don’t want him to worry more than he already is. “I never sleep well the first night in a new place.”

He hums again. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, John.” You say quietly, holding the phone to your ear until he ends the call.

You stare at the screen for a moment before setting your phone on the nightstand once more. You feel more comfortable now after hearing John’s voice. It’s soothed some of the nerves churning in your stomach. He’s just a phone call away, and soon he’ll be back within reach. Just a couple weeks at most. You should be able to survive that.

You hope you will.

You do manage to sleep.

There’s light coming through the curtains when you wake, and you can hear the faint clacking of dishes down the hall. You squint blearily at your phone. It’s past nine. You’ve slept in later than you meant to. They’re early risers, being on a farm and all. You realized that yesterday when you heard them moving around before dawn.

Here you’ve gone and slept in.

You get up, changing clothes before heading to the bathroom.

Lily’s in the kitchen when you get up, still a bit bleary from a rough night’s sleep.

“Morning, hen.” She says, turning from the dishes when she hears you patter in.

“Sorry, I slept in.” You say, rubbing your eyes.

“None of that now, yer a guest. Ye can sleep in as late as ye’d like.” She says, waving her hand. “I’ve saved some breakfast for ye. Let me heat it up.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You say.

“Of course I do. I want to.” She says, pushing you out of the kitchen. “Juice or coffee?”

“Juice is fine.” You say, taking a seat at the table. Storm comes over to you, pawing at your hand. You give her some pets, scratching behind her ear.

“Here ye are.” Lily says, bringing you a plate loaded with eggs and sausage and toast. She sets it down in front of you along with a glass of orange juice. It’s probably freshly squeezed.

“Thank you. It looks delicious.” You say, picking up your fork.

It tastes delicious too. You never knew a simple eggs and sausage and toast could taste so good. Lily must work magic in the kitchen. That can be the only explanation for how wonderful she can make even the simplest food taste.

You slip on your borrowed boots after you finish eating, following Lily out into the yard again. Storm trots along beside you, tongue hanging out in excitement.

“Ye ever driven an ATV before?” Lily asks you, and you notice one parked next to the gate just past the fence. You hadn’t noticed it yesterday.

You shake your head. “No.”

She pats your shoulder. “I’ll teach ye soon. I’m gonnae go grab some hay from the barn for Mabel. Ye go on ahead and start givin’ her a good brushin’.”

Lily opens the gate to the pasture where the barn sits before climbing on the ATV. You open the other gate to Mabel’s pasture, Storm running through as soon as its open. You leave it open, passing the chickens on your hike up the small hill to where Mabel stands, looking like she has no care in the world.

Her brush hangs in her small barn and you grab it off the wall. Her hair is thick and coarse, the brush catching on a few tangles. You’re careful not to pull too hard, working the knots out gently.

Lily arrives on the ATV, towing a small trailer behind it stacked with bales of hay.

“Come and help me unload this, hen.” She says, climbing off the ATV.

You shove the brush into your back pocket, treading through the grass to the stack of hay bales. Lily tosses you a pair of gloves, something you’re grateful for as soon as you put your hands on the hay. It pokes at you, a few pieces even sticking you through the gloves.

It’s also heavy.

Your arms shake as you lift one of the bales, just managing to get it up off the stack. You heft it the few feet to the barn, stacking it on top of the others. Lily lifts the next bale, making it seem almost easy.

“They’re heavy.” You say, letting out a breath as you return to grab the next one.

“Aye.” Lily says with a grin. “We’ve got tae get yer muscles built up. Turn ye into a proper farm girl in no time.”

You’re out of breath by the time the last bale has been stacked, a few small scratches on your arms where you’d pushed up the sleeves of your sweatshirt to avoid getting hay in the fabric. Somehow you’ve still managed, feeling the small pokes even through your jeans.

“Keep workin’ on Mabel, I’m gonnae take the trailer back.” Lily says.

Your arms feel like jelly as you grab the brush out of your pocket again, returning to brushing Mabel’s back. You knew you were out of shape compared to what you once were, but you think even if you weren’t that would have been a struggle. Farm work is hard and you’ve barely had a taste of it. It speaks volumes of just how strong Johnny’s parents are that they can do this every day.

Lily returns, walking up the hill to where you are. “We refill her ‘bout once a week.” She says, patting Mabel’s nose. “Can’t keep all of it here, or she’ll eat it all.”

You grin, Mabel’s head tilting as you brush a spot on the side of her neck. You’re getting covered in cow hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“She’ll be sheddin’ her winter coat soon.” Lily says running her fingers through Mabel’s hair, picking out a few chunks. “Things get very hairy up here.”

You laugh, brushing under Mabel’s chin as she tilts her head up for you. “I can imagine.”

“I’m gonnae go find Murray, ye stay out here as long as ye like.” She says, patting your shoulder before heading back down to the ATV.

Storm stays in the pasture with you again, happily laying in the grass while you finish up brushing Mabel.

You lean against her side, resting your head on her back. “We’ll be okay, right?” You ask, not expecting an answer, and you don’t get one aside from a loud cluck from a chicken.

You head back into the house, Storm following you. You toe off your boots at the door, wiping down Storm’s feet before heading into the living room. You pick up the book you had been reading from the coffee table, settling on the couch. Storm jumps up beside you, sitting there staring expectantly.

You stare back, tilting your head. “What?”

She puts a paw on your leg, sniffing your cheek.

“Oh alright.” You put your book to the side before scratching her neck. She leans into you, licking your arm as you scratch her. “You’re so soft.” You say, hugging her against your chest as you scratch down her back. “Must have gotten a bath recently, huh?”

You kiss her head before releasing her, going back to your book. She curls up next to you, leaning against your leg. You drop a hand to rest against her back, feeling her comforting warmth against you.

The days go by and you settle into a bit of a routine on the farm. You start to wake up earlier and earlier, adjusting to hearing Lily and Murray up and moving around early in the morning. You’re still not sleeping well, but you are managing to get some sleep at night.

John’s called every day, wanting to know how you’re doing, how you’re settling in. It gets easier and easier to tell him you’re doing alright, as you start to believe it. But no matter how comfortable you get in Lily and Murray’s home, there’s still a deep ache in your chest, a yearning for your pack, for your alpha.

You thought it might be weird being around an unknown alpha, but Murray has been careful to keep himself from being overbearing and overwhelming. Sometimes you forget he’s an alpha, but his strong scent reminds you every time you smell it. He’s not like any alpha you’ve been around before, but then again, you think he has Lily to thank for that.

You don’t know many alphas that chose to take beta mates over omegas. It was so unheard of in your circle of friends and family friends growing up. Your father surrounded himself with like-minded alphas, traditionalists that prided themselves on scoring a prize omega who could give them pups.

You suppose John had taken a beta as his mate, but you know that dynamic is different, and it became even more complex once you were added into the picture. Maybe John would have wound up more like Murray had it just been him and Kyle in the long run.

A beta’s soothing presence is enough to calm and alpha’s instincts over time. It probably helps that he’s older, those instincts less strong now than they would have been likely just a few years ago. You know alphas calm over time, those instincts settling as they get older, as they settle down.

You wonder how long it will take John’s instincts to start settling now that he’s retiring out of a high-stress job.

You’ve taken to being on the farm and helping out more and more. Mabel has become your lifeline, your stand-in therapist. It’s a bit healing, laying against her side, telling her how much you miss your pack, how nervous you are about this new chapter in your life, how fast things seem to be moving. You’ve only been with your pack for just over a year now and already so many things have happened, so many things have changed. She may not be able to offer much in terms of conversation or advice, but it’s still comforting to have someone there who can listen and not judge.

You’ve even come to know the chickens a bit, gathering eggs a couple times when you’ve gotten up early enough to beat Lily to it. You’ve had your fingers pecked more than a few times, but you’re growing fearless around them, shoving the broody ones to the side to grab their eggs.

A week goes by before you know it, settling into the clock-like rotation of life on a farm. It’s comforting to have a schedule, to always have something to do. It reminds you of being on base, of conforming to the guys’ schedules. You prefer this kind of schedule and work, though.

Maybe you can talk John into a farm. It would be good for him, help him settle into civilian life where you don’t have someone telling you what to do...or where you’re not the someone telling others what to do.

You wake early on Sunday, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you lay in bed for a moment. It’s early, but still you hear Lily and Murray moving around. You feel like dragging your feet this morning, but you don’t, sliding out of bed before grabbing clothes.

“Morning Stormy.” You say, greeting the dog laying at your door. She’s taken up vigil in the mornings, laying there waiting for you to get up.

You pat her head before stepping over her, heading for the bathroom. Lily had done some washing for you, despite your insistence that you could do it yourself. She was keen to do as much for you as possible. She said she misses being able to mother someone. Murray won’t let her. He’s stubborn like that.

You head for the kitchen, Lily already up with breakfast at the table.

“Mornin’ hen.” She greets you, pouring coffee into a mug. Murray is at the table as well, sipping his own cup.

“Morning.” You say, taking your seat and the offered mug. “You’re up early.”

“It’s Sunday. We’re goin’ tae Mass today.” Lily explains.

You hadn’t really thought much about it, though you should have guessed given the candles and the crucifix on the wall that they were religious. The idea of Johnny being raised Catholic is hard for you to grasp.

“Did ye go to church growin’ up?” Murray asks you as Lily sets a plate of food in front of you.

“Not really.” You say. “Mostly just Christmas and Easter.” As patriotic as your father was, he didn’t pay much mind to religion. Sundays were for beer and football and a good dinner.

“We try tae go every Sunday.” Lily says. “Though we don’t always make it.”

Like last Sunday, you think. They had been busy with helping you get settled in.

“Gives us an excuse tae go into town.” Murray says.

“We’ll do some shoppin’ while we’re there.” Lily says. “Get ye anythin’ ye might need too.”

You’re not sure what you might need. You thought you had brought enough to last you the couple weeks, though something tells you Lily is going to find something you need. She had said something about getting you a proper pair of boots. You wonder what else she might decide you need.

Church went well, although you had no idea what a Catholic Mass was like, nor what you were supposed to do, but you followed along well enough. Shopping afterward had gone as you expected. You got your new pair of boots, strawberry printed, and Lily had decided you needed a couple new pairs of jeans. It was true yours were starting to show the wear and tear of farm life, and they weren’t proper work jeans, according to her. You weren’t sure what that meant, but she hadn’t listened to your protests, buying you the pants anyway.

It was a nice, warm day so Lily had taken you out to her garden to help her set up for the spring plants she’d grow. You pulled weeds, harvested some of the last winter vegetables, dug holes, played in the dirt. It felt good doing something with your hands. It gave you purpose, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Sure, being an omega you had your purpose, but lately it had been a bit...mundane. You had been forced into the box of ‘sit there and look pretty and offer us some comfort,’ even if they hadn’t realized they were doing it. You hadn’t even really noticed it until now, until you got some space from it. Now that you were actually doing things, now that you had a true purpose, helping out on the farm, you realized just how deep you had been shoved into that box.

Maybe coming here was a good thing after all.

That night you cry for the first time. You’re not sure why. Maybe the dirt under your fingernails had awoken something in you, some deep crevasse of your emotions opening under your feet.

It’s a silent cry in the darkness, the moon bright through the curtains, bathing your room with more light than even your nightlight. You’d just hung up the call from John and suddenly tears are falling down your cheeks. You miss him. You miss them all. You’re terrified for Simon and Johnny, you’re yearning for your alpha, for your comfort. You want the bed to dip behind you, for his arms to slide around you and hold you close. You want his scent to wrap around you and permeate your being.

You’re homesick.

The magic of the first week has worn off and now you’re feeling the complex emotions that have been brewing under the surface. There’s a deep ache in your chest, harsh and painful. You curl up tight in a ball, trying to ease the pain of missing home, of missing your alpha.

You drift off into a hazy sleep, floating in and out all night until you finally manage to slip into a deep sleep for a couple of hours early in the morning.

You wake later than you would have wanted to, and for a moment you forget where you are. There’s a warm weight against your back, and for a moment you think you’re back in the barracks, that John is sleeping behind you, pressed up against your back.

But as you wake up, you remember where you are: hundreds of miles away from the barracks and John.

The sun is up, shining its golden light through your window. You turn as best you can, the heavy weight pinning the blankets down over you.

You’re met with black and white fur. Storm has somehow snuck her way into your room and curled up on the bed with you. Tears prick your eyes as you turn to face her, running a hand down her back. She lets out a sigh, shifting her body onto her side so her head rests on your pillow.

“Hi Storm.” You whisper, burying your face in her fur.

She lays there, breathing steady and even as you try not to cry, as you fight the emotions welling up inside of you again. Storm licks your hand, dragging her soft tongue against your skin, almost like she’s trying to lick up your sadness.

“Okay, okay,” You sniffle, pulling your hand away. You lay there for a moment longer, both of you still in the quiet morning. Lily must be out gathering eggs or taking care of Mabel. You don’t feel bad for sleeping in this time.

Storm climbs down off the bed as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head. You grab a change of clothes before heading for the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Storm is waiting in the hallway for you and the two of you walk together towards the kitchen. Lily is sitting at the table, reading a magazine.

“Mornin’, hen.” She greets you before looking down at Storm. “Mornin’ ye sneak. Sorry if she disturbed ye. I tried to get her back out.”

You shake your head. “She didn’t disturb me. I didn’t even know she was there.”

Lily hums, patting Storm’s head. “Ye must have needed her, then.”

Tears start to prick behind your eyes, those emotions that you thought you had shoved down starting to come back to the surface. You know Lily won’t judge you for crying, for being homesick, but still that fear of showing too many emotions starts to overwhelm you.

“It’s alright, hen.” Lily says, on her feet before you even know it, pulling you into a hug. “Homesick, huh.”

It’s not a question.

“I understand.” She says softly, patting your head as you struggle to hold those emotions down. “I would be too.”

Her hands rub your back, her scent strong in the air as she tries to help comfort you. You both know it won’t be enough, but still the thought of it is sweet. She’s doing her best to try and make this easy for you, to try and help you through the inevitable breakdown of missing your pack and your alpha. From what John has said, it won’t be long before he’s finally free of the shackles of the military. A few more days at most before he’ll be making the final drive up here to retrieve you, and you’ll move on to whatever is waiting for you on the other side.

It makes you sad to leave too, though. You’ve grown comfortable on the farm, adjusting to life here and its routine and stability. It’s kept you more active than anything, and you’re going to miss having an excuse to do more than read and sleep all day. Of course, taking care of a house will involve a lot more, but you know there’s only so much you can do even in that regard.

You want to feel useful.

You don’t cry as much as you thought you might. Your thoughts have kept you stable, ideas forming, plans putting themselves together. You lean against Lily’s chest, arms wrapped around her. You’ll be forever grateful for everything she’s done for you, even if she doesn’t realize she’s done it.

You pull away, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Thank you.” You say.

Lily gives you a soft smile, petting your hair. “Of course, hen. Ye know I’m always here if you need a hug.”

You laugh, sniffling. “You give good hugs.”

“I’ve been told that.” She pats the top of your head. “Now, let’s get some food in ye.”

Storm sleeps in your room from then on. You’re not sure Lily could change her mind even if she tried. She’s on the bed as soon as you open the door to Johnny’s room, making herself at home. You’re silently grateful for her comforting presence, often waking cuddling her up on your pillow.

You’ve become inseparable, unless Lily is in the kitchen, then she betrays you for the prospect of any handouts. You don’t blame her one bit. You’d be in there begging too if Lily didn’t involve you as much as she has started doing. You had asked for recipes, so Lily had taken that as her excuse to start mentoring you in the kitchen, teaching you everything she knows.

You’ve been kept busy, and you’re grateful for it.

Storm follows you around as you do your chores, self-appointed chores. You fetch more hay for Mabel as she’s running low, give her a good brush to help loosen some of her shedding fur, feed the chickens and gather the eggs, pick a few of the last winter vegetables that have ripened before helping Lily make lunch.

You even get to hold a baby lamb.

You fall in love almost instantly.

Another animal to add to your list of animals to convince John to get for you.

Your last day on the farm comes with an unexpected morning phone call. Usually John called at night, but this time catches you by surprise at the breakfast table. You got up to answer, Storm following you down the hall as you speak to John.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart.” John says. “I have good news.”

You already know what he’s going to say. “Oh?”

“My paperwork was finalized this morning. I’ll be coming up tomorrow to get you.”

Nerves and excitement boil in your stomach. You’re excited that it’s finally happened, that he’s finally free and you’ll get to see him in just a few hours. At the same time you’re nervous for what this means, for this start of the new chapter. There’s also a bittersweet edge to it, from the thought of leaving the farm after the wonderful almost two weeks you’ve spent here.

“That’s great!” You say, trying to sound convincing, channeling that inner excitement.

“I’ll call before I leave so you know when to expect me.” He says, sounding almost relieved.

“Sounds good.” You say, leaning down to pet Storm as she paws at you. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

“I know. It’s been long enough.” He says. “I have to get packing, but I’ll talk to you tonight, okay?”

You nod even though he can’t see you. “Okay.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.”

You walk back to the table, your stomach in knots. Excitement and nerves still race through you. You’re not quite sure what to feel yet, all of it a bit too much at once.

“Everything alright?” Murray asks.

You nod. “John’s paperwork finally went through. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lily cheers. “That’s wonderful news! I’m sure yer goin’ tae be happy to see him.”

You nod again. “I am. I’ve missed him.”

“I bet.” She says reaching over to pat your hand.

“But I’m going to be sad to leave too.” You say. “I’ve really enjoyed being here.”

“And we’ve enjoyed havin’ ye.” Murray says.

“Ye can always visit, whenever ye want to.” Lily says, giving you a smile. “Yer always welcome here.”

“Thank you.” You say, trying to avoid looking down at Storm and her puppy eyes. You have a feeling she’ll be the hardest to say goodbye to.

You do your chores the next morning despite the fact John will arrive in a few hours. It just feels right to spend your last day on the farm doing as much as you can, savoring your last taste of farm life. You’ll miss Mabel, and you’ll even miss the chickens despite the few little cuts on your hands from sharp beaks. You’ll miss having stuff to do. Sure, you’re going to settle into your new life easier than John will, but at the same time, you’re going to withdraw from this routine you’ve grown to follow.

You spend the time after lunch cuddling with Storm on the couch. She seems sadder than usual, almost as if she knows this is going to be goodbye for now. Even Bron is at your feet, curled in a ball as you all wait for the sound of tires on the gravel driveway. Your bags are packed and by the door, including your Wellies, ready to be taken away from this surrogate home, from your surrogate family. Well, they are your family, you suppose. An extension of your pack member.

You’re not ready to get up as the sound of tires eventually does come, Murray rising from his seat to greet John at the door. You let out a sigh, patting Storm one more time before standing.

It feels almost surreal seeing John again after nearly two weeks away. He greets you with open arms and a smile, not even waiting for anything to be said. You’re in his arms almost as fast as he opened them, pressing yourself close against his chest. You’ve been without him for longer, but this time it felt different. You were hanging over the precipice of a drastic change. His arrival has been the first step in that change, the start of a new chapter in both of your lives.

“I trust you’ve been well taken care of.” He says as you pull away.

“Very well.” You say, smiling.

“And ye better keep that up.” Lily says threateningly.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He says, giving her a hug. “Thank you for doing this.”

“It’s no problem. We’re always happy to have some company.” She says.

“Ye can visit us any time ye like.” Murray says, shaking John’s hand.

John grabs your bags, the four of you heading outside with the dogs. You hug Lily, tears falling as you say your goodbye.

“Call me.” She says, patting your back. “For anything, even just tae chat. And don’t forget to visit.”

“Thank you.” You say, wiping your cheeks. “For everything.”

“Yer welcome, hen.” She says, brushing a hand over your head.

“Thank you, too.” You say to Murray, giving him a hug as well.

“Of course.” He says, patting your back. “It was our pleasure.”

You kneel down in the gravel, giving Storm a hug. She licks your cheek, letting out a quiet whine. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?”

She gives you one last lick before you stand, giving Bron some pats before you turn away, heading towards the car. Sadness but also joy fills you as you climb into the passenger seat, buckling your seat belt. You turn to look behind you, the car full of boxes, but in the seat behind John your big bear sits, buckled in.

You smile softly as John climbs into the driver’s seat, turning to look at you before he turns on the car.

“Ready?” He asks.

You nod. “Ready.”

He turns the key, the car rumbling to life beneath you. They wave as you drive down the driveway, and you watch the house until it disappears around the bend. You turn back in your seat, letting out a sigh as John turns onto the road towards Glasgow.

“Can we get a dog? And some chickens? And a cow? And some sheep?” you ask.

John chuckles. “Let’s find a place to live, first. Then we’ll talk about that.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly 141 x reader #task force 141 x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #omegaverse #a/b/o

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retrocgads · 1 year ago

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USA 1997

#USA1997 #RED STORM ENTERTAINMENT #STRATEGY #IBM #MACINTOSH #TOM CLANCY'S POLITIKA

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rene-darling · 7 months ago

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I'M- gonna get you pregnant!

...Their reaction to your...interesting choice of words. You try and get a reaction out of them!

...It's been a while guys! I came back to spread my pregnant men agenda...kinich is so Xiao vibes frl...ajaw is my favorite charc genshin has ever made...credits [keming magico] on X/twt

...kinich...Xiao...zhongli...wanderer...kazuha...

Kinich

"..."

"well, it'll cost you a fortune." Unfazed as always he manages to surprise you instead.

"eh..??"

"let's see, a million mora for the unexpected surprise, a few more for the agonizing months and definitely another million mora as a push present-"

"BLEH- BUT! the great kahul ajaw will also require compensation!!"

Xiao

"???" He stares at you, with his wide cat eyes, then his brows furrow in a huff "mortals...have no respect for the adepti." He mumbles his all too familiar phrase

"it is only rex lapis that is able to change his form from male to female..not I"

"aw- but Xiao wouldn't you look just the cutest making a cute nest for our baby?"

He gives you a nasty glare but his ears blush a crimson red at the thought, perhaps... he liked the notion...of the baby not him pregnant. Don't twist his desires!!

Zhongli

It is not often that he is caught off guard, this is not often.

His initial shock is then replaced with a flurry of laughter, music to many especially your ears.

"that is impossible, in-..this form atleast." It's your turn to be shocked now "..eh?"

"hm...I suppose, now that I am but a mortal, the next step would be to settle with a child-..I never thought off carrying myself but- y/n" catching you as you fell

"it was a joke. I'm not- ready- for- for thAT. Nor that mental image- hah-."

Wanderer

"what the fk."

He gives you the nastiest of glares, what are you on about this time??

"I'm a puppet you fool."

"keep your perverted fantasies to yourself."

"But- I wanna see you- full. Of my perverted fantasies."

It's debatable whether he's red from your crude words or something else- but truly you are talented, at a loss for words he huffs his little chest and storms out not in the mood to entertain your perversion.

Kazuha

"hm..?" He gives you the sweetest look of confusion strands of his hair falling over his eyes as he tilted his face.

He lets out a small chuckle and puts down his leaf "If- I could, I would have done so without question or any doubts" he smiles so sweetly at you making you feel ashamed about how you said this in a perverted way yet he responded with so much love.

You pouted at the unfairness of this. How come you're the one blushing!!!

"now I wanna be pregnant with yours-."

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castielscaplan · 19 days ago

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Braids and Soft Things (Billy Hargrove)

Summary: Billy watches as you braid his sister's hair.

Warnings: all the fluff, billy's not a douchebag in this

WC: 1.5K

Read on ao3!

A/N: dedicated to my fellow Billy lover @fandom-princess-forevermore

Billy’s legs were stretched out on your bed, one arm slung lazily behind his head, a cigarette burning slow between his fingers, though you’d already given him The Look for lighting it inside.

“Seriously, ash on my comforter and I’m throwing you out the window,” you’d muttered.

He just grinned, half-lidded and smug, watching you reorganize your bookshelf for the third time that week. It wasn’t even really about books anymore. You just liked when he was there, watching you like you were something worth staring at.

“Y’know,” Billy drawled, “You could come lie down and entertain me instead of alphabetizing Stephen King.”

You rolled your eyes but were already about to respond when the door creaked open and a small voice cut through.

“Y/N?” Max poked her head in, her expression a little sheepish.

Billy groaned instinctively. “Jesus, what now—”

“Billy,” you warned quietly, and then turned to Max, your voice warm and open. “What’s up, Max?”

Max stepped in holding a brush and a few scrunchies in mismatched colors. “Can you braid my hair?” she asked, cheeks a little pink like maybe she thought she was interrupting something.

Your face lit up. “Of course I can, come here.”

Billy scoffed, but not as harshly this time. He sat up a little straighter, leaning back on his elbows as Max climbed onto the bed beside you. You gently pulled her hair over her shoulder and started brushing through the red strands, careful, slow.

Max closed her eyes and relaxed into the motions, the room going quiet except for the soft tug of the brush and the occasional chirp of a bird outside.

Billy watched.

He meant to look away—meant to keep up the whole too-cool-for-this act—but something about the way you handled Max made his chest feel too full.

You were so damn patient. Fingertips gentle. Voice soft. You talked to Max the whole time, asking about her day, what book she was reading, if she wanted one braid or two. She laughed once, and it was the kind of sound Billy rarely got to hear from her.

And just like that, the annoyance ebbed.

He stubbed out the cigarette, not wanting the smell to ruin the moment.

Max caught his eye and blinked in surprise. “What?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Nothin’. Just... didn’t know you liked being babied.”

Max opened her mouth to snap back, but you pinched Billy’s leg without even looking.

“Don’t be mean. She’s allowed to want a braid and some peace.”

Billy glanced down at you, your fingers now moving through Max’s hair in practiced rhythm, and something warm curled under his ribs.

“…Looks good,” he muttered finally.

You smiled.

“She’s a good canvas.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “You’re good at that.”

“At braids?” you teased.

He shook his head, eyes soft now, unguarded in the way only you ever got to see. “Nah. At takin’ care of people.”

Max had gone home not long after, walking away with her braid swinging over her shoulder and a handful of your leftover gummy worms in her hoodie pocket. She’d muttered a half-hearted “Thanks” to Billy on her way out, which—for her—was practically a warm hug.

Now, the room was quiet again. The kind of calm that settled thick in the summer air after a small storm of laughter and kid sister energy.

You were back on your bed, curled near Billy, a book propped open but forgotten in your lap. He’d been silent for a while. Not in a moody way—more like he was turning something over in his head, and you knew better than to poke at it too soon.

“Hey,” he said eventually, voice low.

You looked over. “Yeah?”

He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting toward the now-empty space where Max had been. “So, uh… could you show me how to do that?”

You blinked. “Do what?”

“The braid thing.” He shifted, suddenly way too interested in a rip on your blanket. “Not sayin’ I wanna do it all the time or anything. Just… maybe she’d let me do it for her. One day. If she wanted.”

The corners of your mouth tugged up, but you didn’t smile just yet—not because you weren’t delighted, but because you knew if you gushed, he’d retreat into a defensive shrug and a grumble about how it was “no big deal.”

So you nodded slowly, gently. “Yeah. I can show you.”

Billy looked relieved. “Cool. Like… now?”

“Sure.” You shifted to sit in front of him, grabbing the brush and a long strand of ribbon you’d left nearby. “You’re practicing on me, though. I’m not giving you a mannequin.”

He gave you a look that was half-scoff, half-smile. “Guess I can deal with that.”

You sat between his legs, your back to his chest, and handed him the brush.

“Start by brushing through a section. No yanking, or I’ll kick you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but his touch was gentler than you expected.

As he worked, you felt the shift happen—the tension slowly bleeding out of his frame, replaced by quiet focus. You guided him step by step: dividing the hair into three parts, showing him how to cross them, how to keep the tension even. His fingers were clumsy at first, rough from years of fights and fixing up his car, but he was trying. Really trying.

“Like that?” he asked, brow furrowed.

“Almost. Hold this piece tighter—yeah, just like that. You’re a natural.”

He snorted. “Don’t get carried away.”

You laughed and leaned back into his chest just a little, letting yourself relax fully into the moment. “You’re sweet, Billy.”

He paused, hands still tangled gently in your hair.

“No I’m not.”

“You are.”

Silence settled again. Then, in a rare, unguarded whisper:

“I just… want her to know I care. Even if I suck at saying it.”

You closed your eyes, fingers curling around his where they rested near your shoulder.

“She’ll know. Especially if you do her hair. It’s not about getting it perfect—it’s about showing up. That’s what you’re doing.”

Billy pressed a quiet kiss to the crown of your head, just once.

“…Thanks,” he said.

And you smiled, eyes still closed, braid a little uneven but perfect in every way that counted.

You were in the kitchen when it happened—rooting around in the fridge for something snack-worthy and debating whether string cheese counted as a real meal—when you heard it.

A very familiar voice from the living room.

“Okay, hold still. Jesus, your head’s like… slippery.”

You peeked around the corner.

Max was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a comic book resting in her lap, expression unreadable. Billy stood behind her, tongue poking slightly out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on twisting sections of her red hair into something vaguely resembling a braid.

It was lumpy. Uneven. Too loose at the top and way too tight by the bottom. But it was unmistakably a braid.

You leaned quietly against the doorframe, arms crossed, heart about ready to melt right through your ribs.

Max finally spoke, dry as ever. “You’re bad at this.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t act like you didn’t ask me.”

“I did not,” she shot back.

“You walked in here and dropped a hair tie in my lap.”

“That was not asking.”

“Felt like it.”

Max was silent for a beat. Then: “…It’s not the worst braid ever.”

Billy blinked. “Thanks, I guess.”

You stifled a laugh, watching as he tied off the end of her braid with the bright blue scrunchie Max had tossed at him earlier. He stepped back, surveying his handiwork like a mechanic judging his own engine fix.

Max craned her neck to get a look in the mirror across the room. “It’s a little jacked.”

Billy threw a cushion at her. She dodged it easily, grinning.

But she didn’t undo the braid.

She didn’t even touch it.

You stepped in then, casual. “Looks cute,” you said, brushing a bit of hair off Max’s shoulder as you passed.

Billy gave you a look—half sheepish, half smug, like see, told you I could do it. You raised an eyebrow. “Not bad for a first time.”

“I had a good teacher,” he muttered, bumping your hip as you passed.

Max looked between you two, clearly suspicious of whatever thing was happening but too cool to comment on it.

Instead, she said, “Next time, you’re learning fishtail braids.”

Billy groaned dramatically. “I didn’t sign up for a salon.”

You just laughed, grabbing a bag of chips and flopping down next to Max. She leaned her head on your shoulder, still wearing that uneven braid like it was a crown.

And Billy?

He sat down beside you both, close but casual, arm thrown across the back of the couch—watching his sister with something new in his eyes.

Something soft. Something real.

And for once, everything felt easy.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove #stranger things x reader #please reblog the things you enjoy #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #x reader #x you #x y/n #reader inserts

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knightyoomyoui · 3 days ago

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[+18] "The Melody Of Touch" (COMMISSIONED)

ft. TWICE's Minatozaki Sana (x Male Reader & other TWICE members)

TYPE: Fluff, Smut

WORD COUNT: 7286

COMMISSION REQUEST BY: @vl-45

DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui DESCRIPTION: Y/N, a blind TWICE fan whose world is shaped by sound and emotion, not sight. After a heartfelt encounter at a fan sign, Y/N forms a rare and deeply personal connection with all nine members... especially Sana. As love, loyalty, and fame intertwine, both Y/N and TWICE learn that the truest way to be seen… is to be understood beyond appearances.

You have never seen the colors the world raved about, but you’ve heard them.

The world had always spoken in vibrations. The buzz of the city’s heartbeat underfoot, the hush of falling rain like a whispered secret, the softness in someone’s breath when they were about to cry. To you, who had been blind since birth, sound was sight, and feeling was everything.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, felt the way TWICE’s music did.

Each song painted landscapes in your mind.

“Feel Special” shimmered like sunlight on warm skin. Each note from Jihyo’s voice a golden beam that made you sit a little straighter, breathe a little deeper. “Cheer Up” was summer fireworks bursting behind their ribs, chaotic and wild, but joyfully alive. And then there was “One in a Million”, a lullaby dipped in longing. The kind of song that made the world go quiet inside them, reminding you what it meant to feel wanted.

Music was more than entertainment. It was identity. And TWICE, unknowingly, had been a lifeline.

When you got the rare chance to attend a TWICE fan sign, your chest felt too small to hold all the emotion. The event was loud, frantic, filled with fans holding placards and phones. But you weren't there to see. You were there to hear.

With a friend gently guiding you through the crowd and to the table, you clutched an audio recorder instead of a camera, your thumb brushing over the smooth metal like a talisman. It hummed quietly, in rhythm to the heartbeat in your palm. The closer you get to the members, the louder the world seemed to roar, but none of it mattered.

Then came the moment.

“Hello!” a bright voice chirped. “What’s your name?”

It was Dahyun. Her voice sparkled, full of energy and kindness. You introduced yourself, speaking clearly despite the nerves buzzing through you.

One by one, you met each member and they became gentler on conversing with you to sympathise on the fact that you can’t be able to see. Sana’s voice was warm and bubbly, like a fizzy drink tickling the soul. Chaeyoung spoke slowly and curiously, asking you how they found their way through music. Tzuyu was quieter, but her laughter had an elegance that lingered.

Then… Jihyo.

Her voice was different, not louder, not softer… but grounded. Like a lighthouse during a storm.

“You don’t watch our performances?” she asked gently. There wasn’t judgment in her tone, just curiosity.

You smiled slightly. “I feel them instead. The rhythm. The energy. The way your voices rise and fall. That’s how I see you all.”

The air around them seemed to pause.

Jihyo didn’t speak immediately. You could sense her leaning in, as though trying to see you not with her eyes, but with her heart.

“That’s… beautiful,” she finally said, voice thick with something unspoken. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”

You nodded. “It’s just how I live. TWICE is color to me. Even if I don’t know what red or blue is.”

A long moment passed, quiet but full. Jihyo reached for something on the table. Paper, maybe. Then a light brush of contact, her fingers grazing yours as she placed something in your palm.

“This is… my number. I don’t usually do this, but—” Her voice lowered into a whisper. “Message me. I mean it.”

Your breath caught, unexpected that the idol herself initiated to keep in contact with a fan she just met today. “A-are you sure?”

“I am,” she said, firm but kind. “There’s so much more I want to ask you. So much I want to understand.”

The security guard gently nudged the line forward. Jihyo gave your hand one final squeeze before letting go.

Later that night, in the still of your bedroom, you ran your fingers over the paper. A small Braille sticker had been added on the back by your friend: Jihyo. You smiled, unsure whether the butterflies in your chest were from excitement or disbelief.

You messaged her.

“Hi, this is Y/N. From the fan sign. I don’t even know if this is real, but… thank you. For today.”

They expected silence.

Instead, a voice note came through.

You listened.

“It’s me,” Jihyo said softly. “I’m glad you messaged. I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said. About how you ‘see’ us. It made me wonder if I’ve ever really listened to our music the way you do.”

There was a pause. A soft breath. You can’t believe this is happening, you’re talking privately with a member of the group you stan.

“Would you mind if I… asked more sometime? Or even shared new songs with you before they release? I’d love to hear what you feel.”

You clutched the recorder again. For the first time in a long time, they felt seen.

Without needing to be looked at.

In the days that followed, voice notes became routine. Jihyo’s messages arrived in the mornings, sometimes rambling, sometimes thoughtful. She described her days in detail — not just what she did, but how it felt to do them.

“I was in the practice room today. The floor was cold under my knees. Momo made us rehearse this part like 30 times until my thighs were burning. But it felt good. Like we were sculpting something invisible.”

You replied honestly, openly. You shared how you mapped spaces through echoes, how you knew someone was smiling by the lift in their voice, how music felt different depending on where it hit their body.

“Sometimes a bass line is like thunder in my ribcage,” You explained once. “But your voice in Feel Special? That hits me behind the eyes. Like it’s rewiring something.”

Jihyo didn’t just listen, she responded with wonder.

“That’s incredible. You make it sound like music is a sixth sense.”

What you didn’t expect was for the rest of TWICE to slowly reach out.

First was Dahyun, who sent chaotic voice notes filled with laughter, silly impressions, and random rap freestyles she was practicing. Then Mina, calm and dreamy, who sent recordings of quiet piano melodies and stories she made up to help herself fall asleep. Chaeyoung asked to describe her paintings, what colors felt like emotionally. Jeongyeon sent dorm gossip, giggling through stories that painted hilarious scenes in Y/N’s head.

One by one, they came.

And yet, Jihyo remained the anchor. The quiet tether to all of them.

One night, she sent a note that you played over and over.

“You know, I’ve been doing this job for a long time. I’ve had people say they love me thousands of times. But you… you make me feel like someone is finally listening for the right reasons.”

You sat on the floor for hours after that, the recorder warm in their hand.

The world was still dark. But it was no longer lonely.

You never thought your world would expand beyond sound and touch. But it did through voices that carried warmth, through conversations that didn’t treat blindness as a limitation, but as a different kind of lens.

It began slowly, like petals unfolding.

Jihyo kept her promise. After that first week of exchanging voice notes, she invited you into her world.

“We’re working on something new,” she said one night. “Still rough, but… I want you to hear it before anyone else. Can I send it?”

She didn’t ask if you could handle it, or if they’d understand it. She just trusted.

You listened, sitting in the dark like always, letting the layers wash over you. The demo wasn’t polished as expected, raw vocals, a sparse piano track, the ghost of a beat that hadn’t been finalized. But even in its unfinished state, it moved.

The second chorus dipped unexpectedly, the melody softer than the first, like the singer was folding into herself.

You recorded their thoughts.

“That part where the chords shift and your voice trails off… it sounds like a person pulling back just before they cry. I don’t know if that’s what you meant, but that’s what I felt.”

A few hours later, Jihyo responded, voice low and a little shaken.

“That’s exactly what I meant. You caught it. I didn’t even tell the producer that’s what I was going for.”

From there, something shifted.

The voice messages became longer. More vulnerable. Jihyo began sharing things not just about work, but about herself. Her fears of disappointing fans. Her exhaustion. The loneliness of being a leader in the spotlight.

You listened. Not because you felt obligated, but because you understood. Because the absence of sight had sharpened your ability to hear emotion like a heartbeat under a floorboard.

And Jihyo… she had so much heart.

Words of you reached the rest of TWICE quickly. Not through gossip, but through affection.

“She listens like no one else,” Jihyo told them during practice one day. “She hears more than some people see.”

It was Dahyun who made the first move.

She popped into your inbox with a 40-second voice message that started mid-laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’ve been told you like sound, so I’m officially letting you in on my secret freestyle raps. Don’t judge. No beat. Just chaos.”

You grinned the entire time. Dahyun’s energy was contagious as always, bubbly and wild, like an unshaken soda can ready to burst. Every word she rapped ended with a laugh or an apology.

Then came Mina. Soft, deliberate, as if she were building a safe space with every syllable.

“I don’t sleep well unless I tell myself stories. Sometimes I imagine I’m on a boat, drifting through a foggy lake. No sounds except the water and maybe… a cello playing somewhere in the distance. Do you want me to send those sometimes?”

You did. And she did.

Momo, ever the perfectionist, reached out next. Not to talk, but to ask.

“Can I send you a clip from our rehearsal? It’s just the beat and my footwork. I want to know if it feels balanced. You might notice things I can’t.”

The audio came with the low thump of feet on a polished floor, and the sharp huff of breath in perfect intervals. You sat still, eyes closed, counting the beats. It was slightly off, the pause between the fourth and fifth beat just a hair too long.

“You’re hesitating there,” you replied. “Right before the spin. Maybe you’re second-guessing it?”

Momo sent back a gasp. “I knew something felt off!”

Even Jeongyeon, reserved and guarded, joined in. Her messages were casual, always starting with:

“You’ll never believe what happened in the dorm today.”

She told stories about Sana refusing to share snacks, Chaeyoung sleep-talking about spaghetti, Nayeon trying to get Tzuyu to wear glittery heels. Through her voice, you could feel the camaraderie, the laughter, and the tiredness beneath it. The weight of being “on” all the time.

Tzuyu’s approach was different. Quieter. Thoughtful.

“You’re blind, but you notice emotional shifts. That’s… kind of like psychology. Have you ever thought about how your perception works?”

They had deep conversations about empathy, about social cues, about the mind. You found Tzuyu’s voice steadying, the kind that asked deep questions not to test, but to learn.

And then… there was Sana.

Nayeon didn’t just send messages. She performed them.

“Right now, I’m wearing a pale yellow blouse with little pearly buttons. And my nails are this soft lavender shade. Do you like purple? I feel like it would be your color.”

She described the world like a poet. The way light hit a leaf. The exact motion of her smile. How Sana’s hair bounced when she laughed.

You felt like you were falling into a painting they couldn’t see, but could feel.

Nayeon often ended her messages with “I wish I could show you everything.” and you would respond with “You already are.”

But it was Sana who unraveled them.

Her voice notes weren’t flashy or poetic. They were intimate. Precise.

“Do you know what vocal layering is? In ‘Alcohol-Free,’ my harmony comes in under Jihyo’s in the second verse. You probably feel it more than hear it.”

She explained things like breath control, resonance, how she shaped vowels differently depending on emotion.

One night, you asked something bold.

“Can you sing just your layer from ‘Feel Special’? I want to isolate it in my head.”

A few hours later, a recording came through.

Sana’s voice. Alone. Raw. Just her line, stripped of production.

“You make me feel special…”

It cracked a little at the end. She hadn’t edited it.

You cried quietly as it played again. And again.

The next day, Sana sent a single message:

“It’s scary being heard like that. But with you, it feels safe.”

Jihyo noticed the shift before anyone said anything.

During a late call, she asked gently, “You and Sana… are you okay?”

You hesitated. “We’re… close. I don’t know what it means yet.”

Jihyo didn’t sound hurt. Only thoughtful.

“She’s hard to read sometimes. But if she’s showing you that part of herself, it’s real.”

That night, Jihyo sent a final voice note.

“We all feel safe with you, Y/N. I know it’s unusual. This bond. But I’ve never seen the girls open up like this. Especially not to someone who expects nothing from us but honesty.”

You replied with something simple.

“You’ve given me more than you know.”

And you meant it.

Because for the first time, You weren’t the person people pitied or romanticized as “inspirational.” You were simply known. Heard. Valued.

And TWICE who are idols loved by millions, had found something too:

A way to be themselves with someone who could see them, without ever looking.

At first, no one outside of TWICE knew about you.

You were just a voice on the other end of the line. A presence in private group chats. A pair of unseen ears that made each member feel heard fully and deeply. But you can only orbit stars for so long before someone notices the gravity.

It began with a blurry photo.

A fan had taken a picture of Sana laughing in a café, leaning toward someone who wasn’t visible. The caption simply read:

“Who is she with? Not staff. Not a member. Look how she’s smiling.”

The fandom’s corners lit up overnight. Speculation swirled: a mystery friend, a secret girlfriend, a stylist, an ex. No one could prove anything, but the whispers grew teeth.

TWICE didn’t say a word publicly.

But inside the group chat, tension rippled.

Sana: “It’s nothing. It’s just a rumor.” Sana: “But you know how fast these spread.” Jeongyeon: “Should we say something?” Jihyo: “We can’t. Not yet.”

You didn’t say anything either. You didn’t want to make it harder. But it gnawed at you, the feeling that your presence and your invisibility had made things worse.

A few days later, someone doxxed you.

An anonymous post revealed your full name, photos from old public profiles, even a rumor that you were “using your disability to get close to TWICE.”

“Blind fan manipulates idols with sympathy.”“TWICE’s soft-hearted members are being targeted.”

The comments were nothing short but cruel.

“Of course he feels safe, he can’t even see who he’s hurting.”“TWICE deserves better.”

It escalated fast. DMs flooded in. Some threatening, some mocking. A box showed up at your apartment.Your friend told you that inside of it were shredded photocopies of fan letters you’ve sent to TWICE in the past, torn and defaced with red marker.

"STAY AWAY."

You sat still for a long time.

You weren’’t scared, not exactly. You were used to being unseen. But this… this made you feel exposed.

And worse: guilty.

You didn’t reply to any of TWICE’s messages for two days.

Jihyo was the first to call.

Her voice trembled slightly as she left the voicemail.

“I know what happened. I’m so, so sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that. Please don’t disappear on us.”

Then Dahyun.

“They’re just scared of what they don’t understand. But we know you. We love you.”

Chaeyoung sent a shaky voice note.

“You matter. Not because of your story or your condition or whatever people are twisting it into, but because you see us. And we’re not letting you go.”

But it was Sana who said what no one else did.

She didn’t send a voice note.

She showed up.

You heard the knock, slow and deliberate.

When you opened the door, the air shifted. The scent of vanilla and light citrus wafted in are familiar, from one of Sana’s favorite lotions. Then came the soft click of her boots on the hardwood. Hesitant. Controlled.

“I used the address you gave Jihyo in case of emergencies,” she said quietly. “I figured… this was one.”

Your throat tightened.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“And you shouldn’t be alone.”

She crossed the room without asking, placing something into your hand. A necklace. The pendant was small, warm from her skin.

“I’ve been wearing this on stage for weeks,” she said. “I wanted you to have it now.”

Your fingers ran over the charm. A tiny, textured sun. Braille had been etched into the back.

“You’re light.”

“I don’t want to be a reason TWICE gets dragged,” You said, voice cracking. “I don’t want to hurt any of you.”

“You didn’t hurt us, YN. You healed us,” Sana whispered.

Silence stretched between them, heavy but not hollow.

Then Sana stepped closer, so close you could feel the shift in air when she spoke.

“You said my voice feels like it lands behind your eyes. So what does it feel like when I do this?”

She leaned in. Her lips pressed gently to your forehead, featherlight. A kiss without pressure but full of intent.

Your breath stilled.

“That… felt like being seen,” you whispered.

Sana exhaled shakily, forehead resting against yours

“I think I’m falling for you,” she said. “And I don’t care if the world can’t make sense of it.”

That night, Sana stayed.

They didn’t kiss again. There was no need. They simply lay together, You curled close as Sana whispered stories about her childhood, her fears, her dreams. She described the stars, not what they looked like, but what they meant to her.

“When I was little, I used to wish on the brightest one. I didn’t always know what to wish for. Now I think… it was you.”

You teared up. Not from sadness, but from the ache of being cherished.

But the peace didn’t last. A few days later, a video leaked. Footage of Sana entering your building, her face visible, her hair unmistakable. Fan forums exploded.

“So it’s true.” “They’re in love with a fan?” “What even is this? Pity? PR?” “Blind or not, this is crossing the line.”

Sasaeng fans dug deeper. Someone claimed a member of TWICE was also romantically involved with you. Rumors spiraled: first Jeongyeon, then Sana, then Jihyo. Edited photos surfaced. Lies disguised as "concern."

And It was chaotic. You began receiving hate at an alarming rate. Threats. Stalkers. Someone threw a drink on them outside a café, yelling, “Stay away from TWICE, freak.”

You didn’t flinch. But inside, something broke. Not because you were hurt, but because the people you loved were being torn apart for simply loving back.

When JYP Entertainment released a vague, rehearsed statement about “unfounded rumors,” it only fanned the flames.

So TWICE made their own move. They went live. All nine. Jihyo sat front and center, voice steady as she spoke.

“We’ve seen the things being said about someone very close to us, someone who’s given us more comfort and understanding than many of you can imagine.”

Jeongyeon leaned in. “We’re not confirming or denying relationships. That’s not the point.”

Nayeontook Sana’s hand. “The point is: love takes many forms. And we’re allowed to find peace outside the stage.”

Sana didn’t say much. But she looked directly into the camera, voice unwavering.

“We know who’s real in our lives. And we won’t apologize for choosing them.”

The fandom split that night. Some fans left angry and betrayed, proving themselves to be not true supporters as they seem to be.

But many stayed. And even more… began to listen.

Later, Sana texted you.

“You’re not our secret anymore. Now I don’t want you to hide. Not from this. Not from me, okay?.”

You recorded a reply, voice soft but sure.

“I never needed to see you to love you, Sana. I know the world sees us now. And I won’t hide either.” The next day, you woke up to stillness.

No barrage of notifications, no new threats or rumors. Just the hush of early morning pressing like cool cloth against fevered skin. The fallout of TWICE’s livestream had changed the conversation overnight. The nastiest voices had scurried back into shadow, and the ones who remained were- if not entirely accepting- at least quieter, tentative, curious.

It felt like stepping into fragile sunlight after weeks underground.

But bruises didn’t fade with gossip. Your jaw was still tender from the thrown drink, and your cane-sweeping arm ached from an elbow caught in a fleeing crowd. The worst hurt, though, was internal: the way you still flinched at sudden footsteps, the way voices outside your door made your pulse sprint.

So when Jihyo texted “We’re coming over. Don’t argue,” you almost did. Pride and fear jostled inside their ribs. But then came a second message, softer:

“If you don’t let us in, we’ll sit in the hallway all night and sing off-key. You really want that?”

You laughed, tension breaking like thin glass, and typed a single word: “Fine.”

They arrived in shifts to avoid paparazzi. Mina and Dahyun first, slipping inside with grocery bags that clinked: ramyeon packets, honey-citron tea, soft rolls of gauze and cooling gel pads Mina had insisted on. Chaeyoung followed, carrying a sketchbook and something that smelled of fresh paint. Jeongyeon and Tzuyu came next, shoulders squared as if daring anyone to step between them and the apartment door.

Last were Sana, Jihyo, and Sana, bundled in oversized hoodies, masks tugged down only after the lock clicked shut.

You stood still in the center of the living room, listening: nine distinct patterns of breathing, nine heartbeats shifting the air. For a moment the room felt too small to hold that much life, and then Sana’s arms were around yours, warm and trembling.

“We’re here,” she whispered, brushing fingers down your spine in slow, grounding lines.

No one rushed. They made space for silence, for shaking exhalations, for the soft thud of Dahyun setting groceries down. Only after Y/N’s shoulders loosened did conversation begin, gentle and ordinary: “Would you like tea?”, “Did you sleep?”, “Have you eaten?”

Normalcy as first aid.

Over steaming mugs, Mina proposed an idea. “I want to record something for you,” she said, voice like still water. “A…sound journal. All of us, day to day. So when you’re anxious you can press play and remember we’re close.”

Chaeyoung flipped her sketchbook so you could feel the raised lines of freshly applied puffy paint. “And I’ll draw tactile pieces,” she added. “You can trace them. Art you don’t need sight for.”

Jeongyeon nudged Tzuyu, who cleared her throat. “We also contacted a therapist experienced with trauma and disability,” she murmured. “Online sessions at your pace.”

Your throat thickened. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already did, Y/N.” Jihyo said. “By letting us in.”

That evening, they rearranged the apartment. Jihyo orchestrated like a gentle general: clearing clutter from walkway corners, labeling pantry shelves in Braille stickers Nayeon slapped on with proud little squeaks, installing a soft chime on the front door so Y/N always knew when it opened.

It wasn’t pity. It was partnership by matching your world instead of forcing you into another shape. Each adjustment whispered “You belong. You’re safe now.”.

Night stretched on, lids of tea tins clinking, laughter popping like sparkles, but inevitably quiet settled. One by one members drifted to the couch, the rug, against bookshelves. Some dozed. Tzuyu read in a low murmur beside a weary you, her voice a smooth river. Mina hummed chords under her breath, recording them on her phone for later layers.

Only two people remained fully awake: you and Sana, perched on the floor by the balcony door. Moonlight spilled silver across them. Through the glass, city sounds pulsed faintly: distant sirens, a scooter whine, the hush-rush of cars like tides.

You traced the ridged sun pendant now hanging at your neck. “You know… I keep thinking this is a dream. Any moment I’ll wake up and still be that lonely fan writing letters in the dark.”

Sana’s fingers curled over your. “You were never just a fan, Y/N. You changed how we hear ourselves.”

Wind rattled the railing. Their joined hands stayed still, but energy shimmered between skin, a humming wire.

“I want to kiss you,” Sana said as she faced your side-profile in a breathless honesty. “But only if you feel ready.”

Your pulse skipped. “I am. But maybe…slow?”

“Then we’re doing it slow,” she promised.

She guided your hand to her cheek first, letting you memorize the curve, the faint heat, and its plumpness. Nose, lips, a small freckle near the corner of her mouth she’d once joked about covering with glitter on stage. Only when exploration turned into certainty did she lean forward, lips brushing softly. No rush, no heat yet, just greeting.

You sighed into it, tension uncoiling. A second kiss followed, deeper, a question that you answered with parted lips. Their world filled with her taste: sweet tea, a hint of citrus balm. A quiet whimper escaped Sana, vibrating against your mouth, and need crackled like static.

But footsteps shuffled in the hallway, Jeongyeon checking windows, and they pulled apart, laughing hushed. Boundaries respected, desire banked like glowing coals.

“Soon,” Sana whispered. “When it’s just us.” And you nodded.

During the next week, routines knitted themselves.

At morning: A group chat audio round-robin where each member sent thirty seconds of “What I’m doing” so that you pay attention to a chorus of mundane intimacy. Dahyun brushing teeth while rapping, Momo counting sit-ups, Mina playing scales.

At afternoon: Physical therapy with Jeongyeon, who insisted stretching eased the cane-arm ache. She narrated each movement, praising every centimeter of progress until your cheeks burned.

At evening: Psychology talks with Tzuyu via voice call. They dismantled anxiety triggers, built coping strategies, and did breathing rhythms that matched to your favorite BPMs of TWICE songs.

Some nights someone stayed over; other nights all nine departed quietly, letting you reclaim solitary space. Boundaries became braided cords: flexible, strong.

The fandom, surprisingly, began shifting too. After the livestream, a wave of supportive hashtags trended. For every hateful comment, five gentle ones surfaced, fans sharing stories of their own disabilities, mental struggles, queer identities. You listened, amazed, as community bloomed in cracks left by cruelty.

Then another storm rolled in.

Dispatch posted alleged “exclusive photos” of Sana entering a boutique hotel with a “mystery partner.” The partner’s face was blurred, body swathed in black, and easy for headlines to claim it was you. A follow-up article insinuated a “polyamorous entanglement among members and one fan,” dripping with scandalized language.

The internet howled again.

Sana was shattered. She called you, voice thin as rice paper. “It wasn’t you,” she kept repeating. “It was my cousin from Osaka, she missed her flight home and I booked a room. I swear…”

You soothed her, though anger simmered in your gut. After the call, they hit record and spoke. A message for TWICE, but also themselves:

“I refuse to be apologetic for loving and being loved. Let’s answer lies with truth, not secrecy.”

They suggested a controlled interview: honest, protective, boundary-setting. Jihyo took the idea to management; surprisingly, JYP agreed, desperate to steer narrative back to music before comeback promotions.

A week later, you sat beside Jihyo and Sana in a small studio, lights dimmed. The journalist, a respected woman known for sensitivity, asked frank questions.

“Did any member of TWICE enter a romantic relationship with Y/N?”

Sana’s fingers slid into yours. Microphones captured the faint hitch of breath.

“Yes,” Sana said. You looked at her “I did.” She paused, voice firm. “And anything beyond that is private and consensual.”

“Are other members involved romantically as well?”

Jihyo shook her head slightly. “We all love him deeply. Each bond is unique. Some friendship, some family, one romance. But we stand together.”

The journalist turned to you. “How do you navigate public scrutiny?”

You inhaled. “I do it by remembering that blindness doesn’t make me fragile, and their fame doesn’t make them untouchable. We meet in the middle, where human hearts beat.”

When the segment aired, there was backlash of course, but also overwhelming admiration. The calm transparency disarmed many skeptics. Sales spiked for TWICE’s upcoming album preview. Hashtags trended again, this time mostly celebratory.

A month from the first fan sign, TWICE planned a quiet anniversary dinner at the dorm, but Mina secretly booked a small studio instead: empty, acoustically rich, floor lined with plush mats and scattered pillows.

When you arrived, guided by Momo’s hand, you heard it first: the heartbeats of anticipation and the hush of bodies waiting. Then music: the demo Jihyo had once shared, now fully produced. It swelled through speakers, but the girls didn’t sing along. Instead they moved around you, brushing fingertips over arms, shoulders, hair as they mapping gratitude in touch.

Mina knelt, pressing a wireless headphone set into your palms. “Isolate the layers,” she murmured. “See what you feel.”

You slipped them on. Vocals peeled apart: Dahyun’s airy ad-libs glittering like distant bells; Chaeyoung’s low harmony hugging the root note; Sana’s ribbon-bright refrain; Jihyo’s steady mezzo holding everything upright.

Tears gathered in your eyes. “It feels like…home.”

Nayeon slipped behind, wrapping arms gently around your waist. Her lips near your ear: “And you are our home too, Y/N.

Later, when laughter faded and others drifted off to clean up, Sana stayed. She rested her head on your lap, humming fragments of old ballads. Fingertips danced idly along your thigh. Innocent, yet promise-laden.

“Come back with me tonight?” she asked.

Heat coiled low in your belly. Images flickered with silk sheets, whispered names, skin against skin. Still, you spoke steady: “Yes. But we set our pace together.”

Sana smiled against their jeans. “Our pace. Our rules.”

Their palms met, heartbeat to heartbeat, the night vibrating with anticipation. Smolder, not yet blaze. But the spark had been struck, bright enough to light every shadow.

Before leaving the studio, Jihyo pressed a small recorder into your han. Its edges cushioned in velvet so they’d know by touch it was special.

“Record your voice sometimes,” she urged. “Tell us how you feel. We want to listen, too.”

You clutched it, moved beyond measure. “Deal.”

Outside, Seoul’s night wind carried muffled city noise with mix of car horns, distant chatter, neon buzzing. But beneath it, you heard something else: nine distinct heartbeats woven with their own, a living chord neither fame nor rumor could unmake.

You smiled into the dark, ready for whatever came next. When the night had fully wrapped the city by the time you followed Sana into her apartment that is quiet, warm, scented faintly with vanilla and citrus. No cameras, no noise, no shadows trailing them. Just two people and the echo of something long building between them.

Sana didn’t flick the lights on. She didn’t need to.

“Do you want anything?” she asked softly. “Water? Food?”

You shook their head. “Just you.”

It was the most honest thing you have ever said.

She took your hand- slow and intentional - and led you into her bedroom. Fabric rustled. The bed creaked gently. Sana closed the door behind them, sealing the moment.

You didn’t know what to expect. You only knew what you felt.

A heartbeat. A breath. A presence coming closer.

Then lips, feather-light at first, were brushing over yours like a whispered yes.

Sana didn’t rush. She let her fingers speak before anything else. Tracing your jawline, she murmured, “Tell me what feels good. What you want.”

You swallowed hard. “Let me… touch you first. Learn you.”

Sana guided your hands gently over her collarbone, down her sides, along her ribcage. Her skin was soft and fleshy, warmed by anticipation. Every breath she took told you something new: when she leaned into a palm, when she shivered slightly at the graze of fingertips over her stomach.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered.

She chuckled, low and flushed. “You haven’t even seen me.”

“I don’t have to.”

Their hands found the hem of her shirt. Sana helped them lift it over her head, then pressed her forehead to theirs.

“You make me feel seen,” she breathed. “More than any stage ever has.”

She kissed you again, deeper now, hunger threaded through it. Her lips were plush, movements fluid, but there was nothing careless. Every shift was a question, every sigh an answer.

You leaned back on the mattress, pulling her gently with them.

The air grew heavier, thick with need but still lined with reverence. Sana straddled you, guiding your hands to her hips, her thighs, then up again as she let you explore slowly, mapping her with care.

“Is this okay?” she asked when fingers brushed the underside of her bra.

You nodded. “Yes. You?”

“More than okay.”

She unclasped it herself, guiding it away, then pressed your palms to her bare handful pair of breasts. You memorized the softness, the heat, the stillness of her nipples. The way she trembled just slightly beneath their touch made something inside them ache with tenderness.

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Sana whispered.

“Warm,” you said honestly as you squeezed their softness, feeling her skin sink through the gaps on your fingers. “Like your heartbeat’s under my hands. Like I could stay here forever.” “Then stay, and never let go. You can have me whenever you want, baby.” Sana tugged your head deeper into her chest, your face pressed on her cleavage. “Would you like to give them a taste? I want to feel your mouth on them too, baby.” You nodded in response before ducking in and capturing her nipple into your mouth, sucking it gently. Sana gasped and bit her lips as she whimpered at the gentle pulling of her skin through your moist lips. You coated them with your spit before proceeding to another, in which Sana making sure to guide you around her tits while brushing your hair slowly. It’s like she’s nursing a baby in her arms for a breastfeed.

“You’ve done a good job, my Y/N, but now I want more of you.” She lifted you away from her delicious mounds and kissed the corner of your mouth, then began tugging at your clothes in return. Bit by bit, you allowed it from your shirt to your pants as your skin revealed in increments, matched by kisses and murmured reassurances.

When you lay fully exposed beneath her, you felt held, not vulnerable.

Sana ran her mouth down to your chest, kissing the sensitive space over your sternum, dragging her tongue lightly to test your reactions. You gasped when she grazed a nipple with her teeth, nothing harsh, just enough to ignite.

“You’re so responsive,” she said softly. “I love that.”

You arched slightly beneath her, fingers sinking into her hair. “I love you.”

She paused.

The words hovered in the air, weighty, tender, and full of permission.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “And I’m yours. All of me.”

Then her mouth was back on yours, lips and tongue mapping a new geography. She took her time, sliding lower, her breath hot along your stomach, her fingers never far from theirs.

When she reached the center of their desire, she hesitated just long enough to ask, “Do you want me to?”

You whispered, “Please.”

She removed your underwear, releasing your erect cock into the air for the first time to her full sight. Sana hummed seductively as she smelled its fragrant smell, hovering it all over her face and peppered your length with smooches. If only you can see how dangerously sexy Sana has been staring at you with your throbbing cock in her hand, slowly pumping it with all ease while wobbling your balls using the other. Sana moved with practiced grace, but her intention wasn’t to perform, it was to connect. Her mouth pressed open-mouthed kisses and licks between your thighs, then deeper until she reaches your balls and underside of your shaft, tasting you slowly as you responded with every twitch and moan.

Your world narrowed to pure sensation: her tongue were now swirling at the tip then goes for a push to take you more in her mouth, the pressure of her fingers circling gently as she bobs her head to your cock, the hum of her approval when you gasped and bucked beneath her.

She didn’t stop until your climax crested and crashed like a wave, you cried out, fingers clenching in the sheets and onto her hair, body arching as you release lots of cum on her warm mouth.

When it passed, Sana emptied every drop and swallowed them obediently before returning to you, kissing you and cleaned the residue in your tip through the aftershocks. She then went curling beside you and stroked your hair.

“You taste incredible,” she murmured.

You, still catching your breath, turned to press a kiss to her cheek. “Your turn.”

She laughed. “Only if you’re ready.”

“I want to learn you,” you said. “Show me how.”

With gentle instruction, Sana guided you, from what pressure to use, what pace she liked, where her moans deepened into whimpers. You paid attention to everything: how her thighs trembled, how she gasped when your mouth found the right spot, how her fingers tangled in the sheets and grip your head when she was close.

When she came, she cried out your name, voice cracking with pleasure and surrender as she squirted her love juices onto your mouth, with some staining your face wet.

You and her together lay tangled afterward, bare skin pressed to bare skin, sweat cooling in the quiet room.

No one spoke for a long time until both decided to go for some few rounds. As per Sana’s request, she wanted you to sent her into various positions she wanted to try: whether in missionary, on fours, cowgirl, and straddling you in sitting position around the bed, in which you did your best to give her the best experience possible with you. Your intimate session ended with Sana having the biggest smile of satisfaction in her face, laid beside you who is covered with sweat as well from the alternating changes of pace you both had went to on the rhythm of your bodies joint together. She shifted her leg below your abdomen, and slowly succumb together on exhaustion.

The morning after, you woke to Sana tracing letters on your back.

“Guess what I’m writing.”

You smiled, groggy. “No idea.”

“L-O-V-E,” she said, giving it also a slight tone like how it was sang in Talk That Talk. “It’s cheesy but I don’t care.”

You turned, pulling her closer. “Neither do I.”

She pressed a kiss to your temple, lips lingering. “You still feel safe with me?”

“Always.”

You stayed wrapped in each other a little longer. Before breakfast, Sana has given you a quick blowjob as she saw your morninghood in full effect, triggering her hormones to help it relax. After you filled her mouth with the protein of your warm cum, both of you are now downstairs as you watch Sana hum while making eggs. You leaned against the counter, smiling at her off-key tune.

It wasn’t a performance. It was real life. Messy, quiet, and beautiful.

TWICE’s next public event was a fan showcase for their new album before they kickoff their world tour. They low-key, invited you who is sitting in the front row, guided by Jeongyeon and Dahyun, a quiet badge pinned to your shirt: “Guest of Honor.”

No scandal. No whispers. Just love.

When Sana performed her solo stage, her final note lingered longer than written, and she looked directly at you as she sang it. The crowd noticed. There were soft sighs, a few happy cheers, but no outrage.

Thankfully, the fandom had grown in acceptance for you.

Backstage, later, Sana tucked herself into your side. “They see us now.”, she whispered.

You held her hand. “Thank you for that, Sana. But what’s more special about you is that, like the girls, you’ve always seen me… only is it that yours had you charmed by the nature of me.”

And in the quiet that followed, it was true. Sight didn’t matter. Sound did. Touch did. So did the heartbeat. It was simply a melody combined that all followed to this moment.

And the love that is messy, blazing, and soft… was always something you will always feel. - EPILOGUE -

The room was quiet, heavy with anticipation and something unspoken. All nine members of TWICE stood in a loose semicircle in front of you. Sana stood closest, her hand entwined with yours, squeezing gently, grounding, and steady. On the table in front of them sat a sleek, black case.

You tilted their head. “What’s going on?”

Jihyo cleared her throat, voice warm. “This was Sana’s idea… but it became something all of us wanted to do.”

“You gave us a different kind of strength,” Dahyun said. “You reminded us our voices mean more than stage lights.”

“You heard us,” said Jeongyeon softly, “even when we weren’t singing.”

“And you never needed eyes to truly see us,” Chaeyoung added, her voice trembling.

Sana guided your hand to the case. “We thought… maybe now, we could help you see the world that made everybody saw us because of you. It’s a signature of gratitude for having you entering our lives, Y/N.

“It’s called a sensory-vision assist device,” Mina said. “It uses audio feedback and environmental mapping to simulate sight.”

“It’s not perfect vision,” Tzuyu added gently, “but it’s a step.”

With shaking fingers, you opened the case. Sleek glasses rested inside. “Try them,” Nayeon whispered. “We’re right here.”

You slid them on.

The world flickered, there were blurred shapes became outlines, motion gained light. And then, Sana’s face: soft, glowing, shimmering… now all in bright colors.

“Oh my God, I can… I can see you,” Y/N breathed. You then turned to the rest, they were just simply breathtaking as well indeed. “I can see all of you.”

Sana touched your cheek, eyes shining both in joy and emotions that is rising.

“Now you see us, like we’ve always seen you.”

You reached up to touch her cheek, and let out a soft laugh full of tears. “Wow. Y-you’re even more beautiful to look at, more than I could ever imagine.” “I know.” Sana smirked. The girls didn’t acted like they’re disgusted. For once, they let their friend run her joke which is undeniably true anyway, as well as to preserve the wholesome view in front of them. The room burst into applause and gentle laughter. “Now you can get to have this visual of mine anytime you like, it’s also to make sure you’ll never found anybody better than me.” She boastfully pointed herself. “You don’t know how much I just became even more loyal to you, Sana.” You pinched her cheeks and kissed her forehead before she giggled as she invited you to hug which was joined afterwards with the other members as well.

#twice #twice au #twice fanfic #kpop au #kpop fanfic #kpop oneshot #twice oneshot #twice x male reader #twice sana x male reader #minatozaki sana

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mangooes · 3 months ago

Text

Dear Diary

(Name) knew something was wrong the moment she walked into their bedroom and found Sylus lounging on the bed with a familiar pink leather-bound book in his hands.

Her diary.

HER DIARY.

She froze. "Sylus."

Sylus, looking entirely too entertained, turned a page slowly before peering up at her with a devilish grin.

"Sweetie," he purred, crimson eyes gleaming, "did you know that you’re absolutely adorable when you write about me in here?"

(Name)'s soul left her body.

Her face erupted in flames. "WHA—"

Sylus cleared his throat dramatically, holding up the diary as if presenting evidence in a courtroom. And then, he started reading aloud.

"Entry #27: Ugh, why is my husband so freaking HOT?! It’s honestly rude. How dare he walk around the house with his stupid sexy muscles and that smug look, knowing FULL WELL what he’s doing to me—"

"SYLUS—"

"—AND HIS STUPID CRIMSON EYES, GOD."

She lunged at him, full force.

Sylus, being the absolute menace that he was, effortlessly dodged her, flipping onto his back while holding the diary out of reach.

"Slow down kitten, this is my favorite part." he said between cackles, his tone full of amusement.

"SYLUS QINCHE, I SWEAR TO EVERY GOD, I WILL DIVORCE YOU."

Ignoring her impending wrath, Sylus continued reading.

"Entry #34: I hate how much I love it when he calls me ‘sweetie.’ Every time he does it, my brain just goes blank. It’s honestly embarrassing. I am a strong, independent woman. But the moment he says ‘sweetie’ in that stupid, deep voice—"

"Sweetie~," Sylus cooed deliberately, smirking as she screamed into her hands.

"SYLUS, STOP READING."

But Sylus, immensely entertained, flipped another page.

"Entry #40: Okay, but I think I might be obsessed with his hands. Like, have you seen them?! Why are they so BIG? Why are his fingers so LONG? WHY DO THEY LOOK SO GOOD WHEN HE HOLDS A WINE GLASS...WHY NOT HOLD ME INSTEAD??"

Sylus wiggled his fingers. "Why, sweetie. You should’ve just told me you liked my hands this much."

(Name), seconds away from spontaneous combustion, grabbed a pillow and THREW IT at his face.

"GIVE ME THAT BACK, YOU MENACE! THIS IS PRIVACY INVASION."

Sylus effortlessly caught the pillow mid-air with his evol, as a swirl of red and black mist coils around the pillow before throwing it aside, still laughing.

"Not a chance," he teased, flipping another page. "Oh? Entry #51: ‘Sometimes I just stare at his jawline when he’s not looking. It’s honestly unfair. Like, how dare a man be built like a walking thirst trap—’"

"ENOUGH!"

With every ounce of power left in her body, She LAUNCHED herself at him, tackling him onto the bed.

Sylus grunted as she straddled him, pinning him down with both hands.

"Give. It. Back." she hissed.

Sylus, still grinning like a damn villain, held the diary high above her head, just out of reach.

"Make me," he taunted.

She narrowed her eyes. "Fine."

She leaned down, lips brushing his ear. "No kisses for a week."

Sylus’s smirk instantly vanished.

"—wait."

(Name) sat up, crossing her arms smugly. "No cuddles either."

"Now, hold on—"

"Also," she said sweetly, grinning evilly, "I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight, and you don't get to talk to me ever again."

Sylus immediately surrendered the diary.

"…You fight dirty, its unfair kitten." he muttered, pouting.

She snatched it back, triumphant. "Damn right, I do."

She stood up quickly, clutching the diary to her chest like a lifeline. "And if you ever do this again, I’m setting your expensive sportsbike on fire."

Sylus huffed. "As if you could."

She raised a brow. "Oh, I absolutely could."

Sylus sighed dramatically, sprawling out on the bed. "My wife, the absolute devil in disguise."

"That’s rich coming from YOU."

Still, as she stormed toward the bookshelf to hide her diary somewhere impossible to find, Sylus simply watched her with a lazy, adoring smile.

Because at the end of the day, his wife wrote about him in every single entry.

And that, more than anything, made him the happiest man alive.

Diary sittuations yk yk i just love how sylus would always take the chance to tease his beloved, he is just so so whipped im so happy i love sylus so so much

#lnds #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #sylus x you #love and deepspace sylus #qin che #lads sylus #sylus

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papercranesandinkstains · 1 month ago

Text

Midnights

Summary: You guys never could get your timing right. Or could you?

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

AN: This is the first time I have ever published a written fic, so please please please be kind. I don't know if I will leave this up or if I will do more, but I just wanted to try it out... Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

The two of you had been playing this game for long enough. The back and forth. Committing your hearts to one another, then jumping and running the second the rain started. Waiting for the storm to subside and then your phone would light up late at night, sending you right back down the rabbit hole that always seemed to land you right back in his bed, skin pressed together and air filled with unspoken promises that the two of you had finally gotten it right.

You never had.

But the idea was warm, like most dreams are. Tangled up through years of almost confessions and jealous rages, but by the time the stars settled in the sky, the two of you would be right back where you always were. In love, but not. Together, but alone. Committed to keeping the other for yourselves, but not willing to take the final plunge.

That’s how you found yourself tonight, red cup pressed into the palm of your hand as your lips curl up into a small smile while you pretend you are listening to the very animated story John B is giving you by the fire. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to listen. You found John B quite entertaining under normal circumstances and with the little comments sprinkled in from JJ and the warmth from the beer in your hand, you would normally be a giggling fool tripping over your feet to hear more.

Maybe you would have been if you hadn’t seen him walk in, all smug smiles and blue eyes as he makes his way around the party. He’s careful to move around your group. Not that you notice. Okay, you do notice. You always do. That’s his plan all along. After yet another argument about him not knowing how to actually apologize with his words instead of the ghost of his lips in the middle of the night, you had sworn you were done.

You were done.

He’s the one who showed up in the stupid blue button up you had gotten him for his birthday lifetimes ago, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and buttons undone knowing how you felt about how it made his eyes stand out. You’d have to be blind to not catch the watch wrapped snugly around his wrist, silver and flickering by the firelight with the unmistakable carving of your initials on the side of it. He was doing it on purpose. You knew he would play dirty. He always did. Avoiding you so that you would have to be the one to make the first move no matter who was in the wrong- even if it was almost always him.

So, you were ignoring him back. The glances you snuck in his direction were because you were still a girl at the end of the day. Enjoying the sight of him and caving were two very different things. Rafe Cameron is beautiful. He knows it. To make it worse, he knows you know it. You can’t let him win. Not this time. The longest the two of you have held out is three days.

Tonight is day four.

Your eyes leave his face again, turning your sight back to John B who just rolls his eyes playfully and dodges a stick that Kiara throws at him for some obscene comment he made when you were too busy staring at your- When you were busy staring at Rafe.

The beer is warm on your tongue, a little gross but just enough to keep your attention off of the way Rafe throws his head back to laugh at something Topper is saying to him, hand finding his shoulder. After the time you have spent away from each other, watching his fingers land on anybody else drops a stone in your stomach. He’s like a drug and you never really noticed how addicted you are until his hands aren’t on you. The cup in your hand is drained in an instant, earning you a cheer from JJ, who nudges your shoulder and effectively drops your cup right out of your hand.

“JJ, what the fuck. I was-”

“If you need another drink, baby, I’d be more than willing to help you out.”

You straighten up as the deep voice pops up from behind you, pressed so closely behind you that you can almost feel the words rattling around in his chest. You don’t turn around. Instead, you stand and watch as JJ makes a not-so apologetic face before he is shaking his head and grabbing John B, promises of keg stands and staying out of “relationship drama”.

As if you could even call it that.

Still, your chest floods with a warmth only he can give you. Not that you would let him know that. Especially not when you are still trying to prove a point. You’re stronger than him. Rafe Cameron is used to batting his eyelashes and getting what he wants. It’s no surprise when you finally turn yourself around and meet his eyes that what he has decided he wants is you.

“I’m all good,” you say quickly with the flash of a polite smile.

He smirks at you, tilting his head in that stupidly arrogant way that makes you unsure if you want to strangle him or marry him. He holds out a wine cooler to you, glass bottle extended out like a peace offering. It’s his way of apologizing. Coming over to you at a party is a first, but this isn’t. Gifts instead of him actually admitting that he was wrong. You won’t fall for it. No matter how nicely the light of the fire catches his face or how good he smells.

You just raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your chest. It’s a challenge. You both know that, and usually he would be ticking his jaw and throwing you over his shoulder. He hadn’t exactly made his affections for you a secret in public, one too many punches landing on the bodies of boys who hadn’t quite gotten the memo you were spoken for. Not that you could blame them. You never got one either.

Instead, he puts the bottle down on the log your friends had abandoned to give you space and wipes his hands off on his jeans. The two of you stand like that for a moment, ignoring the curious glances and quiet whispers of the crowds around you. You two weren’t strangers to the occasional public standoff, but those usually entailed the two of you just yelling at each other. Neither of you says anything. Just a staredown to see who is going to break first.

It’s always you. You had a weakness for pretty boys with soft smiles reserved just for you. Danger wrapped up in selective kindness that only found itself extended to you. You fell for it every time, and everyone knows you’ll fall for it again this time. It’s just a matter of when.

For the first time, he beats you to the punch.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, “I’ll give it to you. You know I will.”

The scoff is slipping through your lips before he finishes his sentence, partially in disbelief at him actually making the first move and the rest because he is standing in front of you again beating around the bush and not just owning his shit.

“There’s nothing you have that I want.”

The smile that breaks across is genuine, blue eyes shining in the darkness, and it makes your heart stop for just a second. Just a second. You won’t be broken by a pretty smile. Plenty of people smile. Your face flushing is because of the heat crackling beside you, not because of your- whatever he is.

“I’d say lying isn’t cute on you, but then I would be lying. Everything looks good on you. I would look even better-”

You shove at his chest, giving him a glare as you glance around at the ears that have perked up around you. You flip the first set of eyes you catch off, middle finger lingering in the air and earning a chuckle from the boy in front of you when the stranger turns away in embarrassment.

“What do you want, Rafe?”

You're tired of it now. The back and forth. He is doing exactly what he always does, and the space hasn’t changed anything. You know this isn’t how things should be. You need to get out of this before your resolve crumbles. You aren’t asking for a miracle, but the longer you stand this close to him, a miracle would be what they need to get you off of him.

“You.”

Quick. Simple. Said without thinking, and in a breath that sounds so sure that your heart soars. You allow it a second before you are snatching it back, shaking your head as you continue to stare at him.

“You’ve had me long enough.”

Your shoulder knocks into his as you brush past him, finally tearing your eyes away and setting your sights on the parking lot. You came to have a nice night, and you are about two seconds away from jumping his bones or jumping off a bridge.

Warm fingers wrap around your wrist, touch feather-light but grounding. You don’t turn around to look at him. Your resolve is breaking fast, and if you look at him for a second longer, you will forget about the apology you are wanting. He has a way of bringing you in, and you always let him.

“What do you want me to say?” he asks, giving your wrist a slight tug. He wants you to look at him, but you don’t give in. “That I’m sorry? I am. I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel like I’m not in this.”

Your shoulders drop, teeth biting into the inside of your lip. Tears are burning in your eyes, cheeks burning as the alcohol and his words both settle into your being. It’s an apology. Not a good one, but a first. Are firsts ever really good? You aren’t too sure as your mind focuses on the way his thumb traces a circle over your wrist.

“Or do you want me to say that I love you?”

You are stumbling away from him, snatching your wrist back against your chest, cradling it like his words sliced it somehow. Your eyes find him, searching for the punchline. He just looks back at you, eyes soft in a way that they only ever are for you in the safety of his bed. Never in public.

“Because I do,” he says.

You just stare at him, mouth open as you try to find something to say. You want to scream at him. Your palms itch to reach down and throw the sand underneath your feet at him. He can’t just meet your radio silence with his own for four days after the two of you have gone back and forth for so long and then stand here and confess at a party full of people you don’t even really know.

“You’re being mean.”

He shakes his head at your words, taking a step towards you. It’s just a little one, but when you allow it, suddenly he is standing inches from you. Blue eyes are staring down at you and suddenly the rest of the party is gone.

“I love you,” he says the words this time, “I’m tired of not saying it. Calling this what it is.”

“And what exactly do you think this is?”

The tone of your voice cuts through all of the warmth you are feeling. It’s too warm. You are going to melt standing here and you aren’t even standing next to the fire anymore. He’s too close. You two don’t do this. Feelings? Barely when you are alone. In public? Not happening.

Well, maybe not before. Tonight is different.

“You’re mine,” his voice is firm. “You just have to let yourself be.”

His hand finds yours again, pulling your wrist out of your palm and entangling your hands together. His fingers slide into yours like they have a million times. Maybe they have. He’s let it slip before that you were made for him, but it’s moments like these where you think maybe he could be made for you.

He’s right. You are his. You always have been. The two of you have run from each other for so long that you aren’t sure you actually know how to stop. He is standing in front of you, holding your hand and offering you exactly what you have always wanted. The ache in your chest is deep, heart rate thundering in your ears, but for the first time, your feet are planted underneath you.

“You can’t take it back.”

His laugh floods you with warmth, the ache in your chest settling as he tugs you forward, free hand coming to rest on the back of your neck. You are surrounded by him, his forehead touching yours as he breathes you in for what feels like the first time in a lifetime and you find that you aren’t dreading the morning already.

For the first time, the two of you are really standing together and nobody is walking away.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And when your lips touch his, you find yourself thinking that maybe this is what forever can feel like.

#rafe cameron x reader #obx #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #outerbanks #outer banks

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