#everything needing to look perfect from the outside

[amie-one]

"while he bites on his necklace so it won't hit my face,"

___________________________________________

It was your usual weekend night where you would found yourself loafing at the coach, wrapped in your favorite thick blanket while watching an episode of a Netflix show you've been keeping fermented in your watchlist for months.

And you did all of these while missing your boyfriend.

It's been about two months since Kwon Soonyoung enlisted to the military in the active duty services. He would contact you sometimes but it has grown lesser and lesser these day. Not that you're complaining as you have grow accustomed to it.

Though it's pretty difficult for you to adapt since he's the type to overshare almost everything and anything related to his life, so your daily seems a bit empty without all of his useless TMI he thought you need to know.

As the show reached the mid mark of the episode that even you had started to yawn, you heard the sound of your security keypad beeping from the outside.

What the hell?

You froze on the couch, heart racing before you whipped your head towards the door.

Robber? No. Why would a robber enter a house by entering your house passcode?

Then, a stalker? Damn it!

You urged yourself to think fast as you launched yourself to your feet and slowly padded towards a corner where a baseball bat was resting against the wall of your home. Perfect weapon for a self-defense, you thought.

The door creaked open and you had your bat out ready to welcome whoever intruder passing through the door with a pounding chest.

Only for you to caught yourself frozen in the next minute.

Because there he is, Soonyoung stood in the doorway, one duffel bag in one hand. He was still in his tight olive green that clung to his frame that you haven't touched in months, one you've been missing lately.

He looked at you like he hadn't seen sunlight in weeks. In fact, you were to him.

"Surprise," he said. "Though I would say what an interesting way to welcome me,"

You didn't say a word. The bat dropped to the floor as you walked straight towards him. The slow steps turn into a light jog as you finally launched yourself into his arms as he voluntarily threw his bag away to welcome you in.

Your arms wrapped around his nape, along with your legs tightening around his waist, clinging on him like a koala. Soonyoung chuckled before he also buried his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent he has been missing a lot.

"Miss me?" He asked.

"Idiot," You murmured. "More than you think,"

You barely remembered stumbling into the bedroom with your lips on each other and clothes hastily discarded to the floor. Everything was blurred until what was left is his heat and his body above you.

His rhythm was deep, slow and steady. Each thrust he drawn out like he wanted you to feel how much he missed you, how long he has waited for you and your touch against him again.

Your fingers curled into his back, nails digging deep into his now slightly tanned skins, drawing blood that cause him to hiss from time to time. Your breathe coming a little sharp at every rolls of his hip against yours.

But then you finally noticed it.

The dog tag chain that currently swinging between your bodies. You've felt its cold metal kissing the slope of your chest at first, then bouncing off your collarbone, then :

Flick!

Your cheek.

It kept swinging everytime he thrust.

Clink!

Your chin.

Clink!

Nose.

Tap.

Right on your lips.

It was so ridiculous that you let out a helpless laugh between moans. "S-Soonyoung, your tag-"

He paused to glanced down at your face, watching it swinging before it lightly smacking you on your face again.

"Oh, sorry..." He chuckled. His fingers then grabbed the chain and bit down on the tag.

Just bit it in between his teeth. You can even see his jawline slightly flexing as he did.

Your breath caught in your throat, your brain totally went short-circuited.

The tag no longer swung like it did before. It hung, tight and stretched, the metal glinting under the dim light, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to keep looking at anything else but him.

"Are you gonna focus now?"

You gasped, clutching at his shoulder.

Holy shit.

___________________________________________

A/N : yea i feel a little bit crazy after seeing that comment on tiktok. Anyway, made my debut finally yay

[midnite-c6]

we need desperate withdrawal needy namgyu smut🙏🏻🙏🏻

he was begging and EVERYTHING. like he was looking up at someone half of the time and it was so HOT. no proofread :<

｡⁠☆ you got thanos’s "special" cross necklace, hiding it from nam-gyu, and when he finds out you have it, he'll do anything for you to give it back!

warnings: 18+, sex, nam-gyu x fem!reader, needy!nam-gyu, dubcon, degradation || ♡

⊂•⁠.⁠✧ you find the cross necklace during the hide and seek game, right there on the floor. you knew nam-gyu had taken a hold of it ever since thanos got eliminated, but maybe it was for the best if he didn't have it, he was way too crazy and blood-thirsty when he was consuming those pills anyway.

without those pills, he was a mess! hands constantly rubbing on his blood-stained face, ruffling his own hair, and finishing his water bottle in a matter of seconds, he lived for those pills.

and when he sees you, during lunch time, eyeing a familiar piece of metal right on-top of your bed, he was speeding to get to you. you immediately notice him, and the best thing you could do was hide it in your pockets.

"fuck, i-i know you have it." you shake your head, feigning ignorance, "what?" you tilt your head to the side. "the- the pills! the fuckin' necklace, i know you have it! just give it to me!" he grabs your hands, though he was fairly weaker without the courage of ecstacy. you shake your head again. "we can share? c'mon just, please." he gets on his knees, knuckles clenched as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, you'd almost feel bad. "please, i'll do anything, anything!"

"well, can you do me a favor...?"

"what do girls like you even want in return?" you want to win. you want to live. you want to get out of these games alive. "y-you lookin' for uh- uhm, pleasure? yeah, can fuck you real good, just... just give it back in return." you were actually thinking about him being your guard to win the final game but— "really, is that the only thing you think girls want?" he manages to smile, "what else?"

"you look deprived. tired," he continues, ironic how he was the deprived one. "and i think you choose to be stubborn about giving it to me," he places both of his hands on either side of your legs. "cuz' you know i can force it outta’ ya..." you furrowed your brows, looking down at him, he was still in control. "i can make- make you feel good, just give it. you're so fucking difficult."

"m'having a fucking hard time." "we all are-" "yeah, but i'll die, might die without it, so please.. are you telling me you'd kill me?" you don't answer. "you're a heartless bitch, you're better than that, please?" he was so persistent in begging, like he'd forgotten how egotistical he was just a few hours ago, just because of withdrawal and sobriety.

what's the best next thing to drugs? sex. what were you supposed to do when he was so good at pleading his case?

you both manage to go inside the bathrooms, sharing a single bathroom stall. he's fucking you into the wall, hands gripping your waist, guiding you against his bucking hips. dick ramming in and outside of your dripping cunt. it wasn't hardcore or rough, it was sloppy and needy. the perfect amount of fast and pleasurable. he for sure needed to taste the drugs again, the feeling of your cunt is just an added bonus. "yesss... i bet- i bet you're feeling just as good as i do when i drug out." the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, for some reason it felt more pleasurable than painful than you'd originally imagine. maybe you were actually hungry for dick. nam-gyu was just the perfect guy for it.

he fucks you desperate, and it's honestly a win-win situation for him. he's glad you're the one who got it, since you're so easy, so easy to please and play with. "you're g'nna.. give it to me-" plap! plap! plap! "right after this-" plap! "yeah?" plap! "m'so good for you, and you're so good to me... fuck!"

he continues to fuck you, with no proper rhythm, just whatever feels right. mouth latched onto your neck, leaving not-so-subtle hickies all over, he's suddenly claimed you. "hope— they hear you, the guards- hope the other stupid fuckin' jerks hear you, moaning-" sometimes, he'd pull out his dick all the way, just to shove it all in again, just for that ecstatic feeling, he knows you like it, what else are you moaning for? "guess i know why stupid thanos would keep talking about a bitch like you- you feel good."

"and, after we win, yes, we're teammates now," he grins, looking down at you as he continues to mark your neck, the stinging pain being somewhat aided with his tongue licking the bites. "...don't forget it. since you're so sweet— wanna fuck you again, okay?" he gets the cross necklace from your pockets, fixing his pants and everything as he leaves you. poor you all messed up on the floors of the men's bathrooms.

in the end, he wins. he always does.

oh namgyu fans were fed this season . writer freedom is cray.

[imhalfplastic]

still, in paris

⊹ overview - pairing: mingyu x f!reader genre: slice of life · fluff · contemporary · slow burn · lighthearted tone themes: casual romance, soft humor, text-based narrative cw: brief mentions of social anxiety, implied fame context, sfw

summary: you didn’t plan to meet mingyu in paris. and you definitely didn’t plan for a blurry photo, one conversation, and a few late-night texts to turn into the internet’s favorite theory. but maybe the truth is even stranger: quiet, funny, and almost real.

from kai: got this idea after mingyu and sexyy red's moment at the pfw afterparty lol twitter wouldn't stop talking about it. started as a one-shot, but their chemistry was too good… now i'm lowkey tempted to make it longer. not sure yet. let me know what you think!

now playing: paris, texas - lana del rey

you’re not used to this.

the flashing lights, the screams, the chaotic elegance of fashion week in paris. sure, you’ve done premieres and panels before. your netflix series blew up way more than anyone expected, and suddenly your face was everywhere. streaming numbers through the roof. interviews. magazine covers. your face on a billboard near times square.

but this? this is dior.

they flew you out. they dressed you like a dream. they made you sit front row. you smiled, you posed, you pretended you weren't internally freaking out.

because deep down, you still feel like that girl who watched fashion shows at 2am, dreaming about stuff like this. and maybe you’re still that girl. just with better eyeliner and a driver waiting outside.

you make it through the show without tripping or passing out. success.

then someone mentions the afterparty and you’re like... okay. sure. why not. you’ll go. stay twenty minutes. do your duty. leave with grace and dignity and maybe a tiny dessert in your purse.

it’s crowded. obviously. but beautiful. soft lighting. velvet everything. a lot of cheek kisses and air-sipping cocktails. the kind of party where people look bored on purpose.

you’re standing near the back, halfway through a glass of something sparkling and expensive, when you see him. and by “see him,” you mean feel the atoms in the room shift slightly.

he walks in like it’s no big deal. which maybe it isn’t, to him. he’s mingyu. people know him. tall and glossy and casually perfect. wearing something you’re sure costs more than your rent, but it doesn’t even look like he’s trying. you’re not even a hardcore carat, but you’ve seen enough seventeen content to know that he’s funny and clumsy and surprisingly shy for someone that handsome.

you glance. once. okay, maybe twice.

you tell yourself that’s it.

until someone says, “oh, mingyu! this is y/n.”

and your heart tries to climb out of your chest.

he smiles like it’s easy. like he does this all the time. “hi,” he says. “i watched your show.”

you blink. “seriously?”

“yeah,” he says, sipping something clear. “i binged it on a flight.”

you weren’t expecting that. “you watched my show on a plane?”

he shrugs, almost sheepish. “i needed something good. ended up watching the whole thing.”

your mouth opens slightly, like your brain’s buffering.

“that’s… wild,” you say finally. “you watched me act while trapped at thirty thousand feet.”

he laughs. “and liked it.”

you manage to hold eye contact, just barely. “thank you.”

he nods. “you were great. the whole cast was. but yeah, you stood out.”

you try not to smile too much, but it slips through anyway.

“well,” you say, “i’m a fan of yours too.”

he tilts his head a little, amused. “really?”

“really,” you nod. “you’re very good at what you do.”

his gaze softens, just slightly. “thanks.”

he laughs. it’s nice. warm. and you feel oddly calm now. like maybe this is just two people who exist in the same strange world, chatting for a second.

it doesn’t last long. someone pulls him away. someone else tries to talk to you. and just like that, he’s across the room again, surrounded by people who look like they were born on red carpets.

but later, when you’re waiting for your car outside and the air is a little too cold for your dress, you catch him looking at you. just once. a glance. maybe nothing.

but you feel it.

you don’t expect the internet to feel it too.

the next morning, your name is trending.

you think, oh god, what did i say? did someone post a bad angle of me? did i spill something?

but no.

it’s a blurry pic. you and mingyu. standing close. talking. both smiling. someone zoomed in so much that it’s pixelated like a renaissance painting, but the caption says:

“what are they cooking”

another post:

“mingyu looking at her like she hung the stars HELP”

and then:

“she literally said she was a fan of him a few months ago and now they’re at the same party this is my roman empire”

you want to scream. or hide. or laugh. you do all three, kind of.

your dms are unhinged. your friend sends you a tiktok of someone doing a powerpoint presentation titled “why mingyu and y/n would make sense actually.” you text back, i talked to him for thirty seconds.

but it doesn’t matter.

people see what they want to see.

you try to ignore it. let it pass. the internet always moves on eventually, right?

you post a normal picture the next day. a croissant. the eiffel tower in the background. very chill. very “look at me being unbothered in paris.” comments are not chill.

“where is mingyu” “blink twice if it’s real” “what did you talk about PLEASE I BEG”

you don’t reply.

you just keep scrolling. wondering if maybe he saw all this too.

and then, a few nights later, it happens.

your phone lights up. unknown number.

hey. this is mingyu. i hope it’s okay i got your number from someone at the party. just saw the chaos online and thought i should say hi officially.

you sit with that for a full five minutes. you reread it like he might have changed his mind and deleted the message. but it’s still there.

you type.

hi lol yeah the internet’s kinda having a moment huh

he replies almost instantly.

mingyu i forgot how people pay that much attention to who i stand next to lol

you smile. because yeah. same.

you the internet’s wild. last week someone made a thread about how i hold my coffee cup “suspiciously”

he sends a laugh emoji.

mingyu suspicious how

you apparently i grip it like i’m about to throw it at someone

mingyu honestly that’s a power move

you both stop texting for a few minutes. maybe he’s busy. maybe you are. you don’t expect more. but then:

mingyu anyway, sorry if that’s random just made me think of it and you seemed cool

you read that twice. you seemed cool.

you don’t know why it hits the way it does, but it does. quiet, lowkey, easy.

you not random i get it you seemed cool too weirdly calm for someone being chased by cameras

mingyu lol it’s a skill built over time and mild panic

you smile, thumb hovering over your screen. you don’t ask anything else. don’t push.

later that night, when you're brushing your teeth in a hotel bathroom that smells faintly like roses and money, you check your phone one last time.

a final message from him.

mingyu just saw someone on twitter say we have “suspiciously good timing”

you what does that even mean

mingyu like every time one of us posts, the other one’s online

you we’re not special. we’re just addicted to our phones

mingyu they also said we probably have a secret handshake

you we should

mingyu something dramatic lots of finger snaps maybe a spin

you followed by complete denial that we know each other

mingyu of course professionalism

you pause for a second, then type:

you you know this only makes them worse

mingyu yeah isn’t it kind of fun though

you a little

mingyu we should give them just enough to stay confused

you like posting the same sky photo 6 minutes apart

mingyu or both pretending we love the same very specific fruit

you papaya?

mingyu chaos...

you grin at your phone.

neither of you says anything else for a while.

but you don’t leave the chat.

and neither does he.

—-----------------

you wake up to sunlight spilling through gauzy curtains and the sound of distant traffic humming under your window. your phone is on the nightstand, buzzing once with a notification, then going quiet again.

you don’t check it right away.

instead, you stretch. take your time. the sheets are soft, the kind of hotel-soft that feels too luxurious to be real. you think, briefly, about how weird this week has been. fashion week. dior. mingyu.

you smile a little. not because of him, exactly. just... the whole thing. how surreal it all feels.

you finally grab your phone. one unread message.

mingyu walked past a bakery on the way back to the hotel smelled really good made me think this city is unfairly good at mornings

you snort, already smiling.

you i haven’t even left the room yet and now i feel like i’m missing out thanks

mingyu no pressure just reporting the vibes

you noted very responsible of you

mingyu it’s a public service

you should i be worried you’re turning into a pastry influencer

mingyu depends do you think that title comes with free samples

you 100% but only if you post aesthetic overhead shots

mingyu i’ll practice with my leftover croissant though i did already take a bite i was weak

you toss your phone on the bed and head to the shower. you tell yourself you’re not thinking about whether it might buzz while you’re in there.

it’s just texting. it’s just paris. it’s fine.

when you come back out, towel in your hair, your screen lights up.

mingyu do you think the eiffel tower ever gets tired of being perceived

you deeply needs a break maybe a vacation

mingyu it should visit new york blend in for once

you take photos pretending it’s never seen a bagel

mingyu “omg first time in the big city”

you laugh out loud.

you stop i can see the caption

mingyu all lowercase. subtle filter. very aesthetic

you towercore

mingyu #tbt even though it’s live

you laugh. then leave the room and disappear into the paris streets.

you walk with no real plan. you pass tourists, locals, little dogs in sweaters, a couple arguing quietly outside a tabac. the kind of scenes that would look too scripted in any film but feel perfectly normal here.

you get spotted near the river by a girl who looks like she just stepped out of your show’s fan edits. she freezes, eyes wide, then gasps like she can't believe it's actually you.

“no way. i literally watched the entire season in two days,” she says, voice shaking slightly. “i cried. like, real tears. three times.”

you smile, surprised and touched. “that’s so sweet. thank you.”

she hesitates, then blurts, “can i hug you? i’m sorry, i just...”

you laugh softly. “yeah, of course.”

she hugs you tight. not long, but full of emotion. and when she pulls back, her eyes are glassy.

“you’re even cooler in real life,” she says.

“you’re gonna make me cry now,” you reply, still smiling.

when she’s gone, you stand there a moment longer, letting it settle. feeling a little lighter, like the day just got warmer.

how strange it is to be recognized. how stranger it is to feel... okay with it.

you’ve been walking without direction. coffee in hand, sunglasses on, trying not to overthink how quiet your phone’s been.

then, finally, you text him:

you paris keeps looking like something important is about to happen

mingyu like a plot twist?

you or a confession maybe a chase scene

mingyu i could see you in a slow-motion chase

you i’d trip over a baguette

mingyu and i’d walk past like “sorry can’t get involved”

you very realistic

mingyu very french

you pause at the edge of a crosswalk, watching the way the light turns everything peach and soft.

you every corner here feels like it has backstory

mingyu i walked past a florist this morning and got emotional

you was it the flowers

mingyu the font on the sign

you powerful

mingyu might write a song about it

you can’t wait for “bouquet in d minor”

you keep walking, grinning into your coffee, phone still in hand.

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

you have dinner plans that night but cancel.

you stay in instead. order room service. eat fries from a silver tray while sitting cross-legged on the bed in the hotel robe. on tv, a french reality show plays with no subtitles. you make up the plot as you go.

your phone lights up again around ten-thirty.

mingyu is it lame if i say tonight’s the first time i’ve actually rested all week

you extremely but also same

mingyu i feel like i’ve been smiling for cameras since tuesday

you i forgot how to blink correctly in photos pretty sure i look mildly haunted in half of them

mingyu new aesthetic unlocked

you what about you how’s your night off

mingyu very quiet i’m pretending i’m in an artsy indie movie nothing happens but the music is good

you mine’s more “girl orders crème brûlée at midnight and judges everyone on tv without knowing the language”

mingyu: i’d watch that

you: it’s a limited series moody lighting no plot

mingyu i play your mysterious neighbor with three lines

you you play the guy at the bakery who always gets the last croissant before me

mingyu oh no i’m the villain

you obviously

the next morning, you get a message from someone on the dior team. there’s a private dinner that night. low-key, mostly creatives, no press. they say you don’t have to go, but they’d love to have you there. you say yes. mostly because you’re curious. maybe also because you wonder if he’ll be there.

you don’t ask.

you show up in a long dark dress and a tired smile. the room is warm, lit low, buzzing softly. the kind of gathering where you don’t have to be anything other than yourself.

he’s already there.

you spot him across the room, leaning against a marble fireplace, listening quietly. his jacket fits perfectly. he looks like he belongs here, but like he’d rather be somewhere else.

you think he sees you at the same time you see him. he gives a small nod.

you return it.

you don’t talk during dinner. you’re seated apart, close but not close enough to chat easily. he laughs once at something someone says, and you smile without meaning to.

after dessert, people drift toward the windows, champagne flutes in hand. the city lights glow softly below.

you stand near a window, watching the blur of lights over the seine. he walks over, close enough to speak quietly.

“still holding your champagne suspiciously?” he jokes.

you glance at your glass. “yeah, it feels important. like a tiny glass trophy.”

“paris does that to everything.”

“even small talk,” you say, smirking.

he laughs. “this view makes everything feel staged, like we’re extras in a film.”

“the city’s the real star.”

“exactly.”

a pause.

“people still can’t stop spinning stories about us.”

you laugh softly. “maybe we should take a picture together. just to make things more interesting.”

he grins. “caption it ‘just met’ or something mysterious.”

“‘totally random encounter,’” you add, smiling.

“internet loses it instantly.”

“and then fifty new theories start.”

“guess we’re good at this.”

you both look out over the city, quiet between you.

“you’re easier to talk to than most here,” he says.

you glance at him. “is that a compliment?”

“just an honest observation.”

“i’ll take it.”

you share a small smile.

after a moment, you quietly say goodbye and slip out, the city’s soft hum following you.

when you get back to the hotel, there’s a message.

mingyu you disappeared like a spy no dramatic storm-off or slow-motion slap. i’m disappointed

you the lighting wasn’t right i’ll save it for the sequel

mingyu you looked nice tonight not saying that to be weird just. you did

you thank you you too

mingyu safe to say we survived paris?

you not over yet but yeah mostly intact

mingyu mostly

you don’t know what to call this.

not a crush. not a friendship. not really anything you need to label. just this... quiet, mutual thing. something that makes a strange city feel less distant. something that doesn’t ask for more than it gives.

on your last night in paris, you stay up late with the window cracked open.

the sounds of the street rise and fall, soft voices, a motorbike passing, the clink of a bottle in the distance. you sit on the bed with your legs pulled to your chest, phone in hand, but no new messages.

you open your notes app and type without thinking:

things i want to remember:

the bakery smell at 8:10am

the girl who hugged me near the river

the music in the car on the way to the dinner

the way no one rushed anything

the quiet

how he said i was easy to talk to

how i felt okay

you leave it there.

you close the app.

you sleep lightly.

in the morning, just before your car arrives to take you to the airport, your phone buzzes one last time.

mingyu i’m thinking of posting that pic of us. don’t forget to keep the mystery alive when you get back.

you smile.

you always you too

mingyu safe flight talk soon?

a pause.

you yeah. talk soon.

you don’t know what’s going to happen.

but you’re not waiting for it.

you’re just letting it be.

whatever it is.

and it started here.

in paris.

[deansbeer]

hi!!! i had this idea in my head for a long time now, and wanted to ask if u could write ben (soldier boy) and reader being on vacation and they booked a house or smth with jacuzzi there and they end up having sex in there in the middle of the night hehe

thank u in advance!!💞

of course, sweet baby <3 thank you sooo much for sending this in! i love writing and being a slut for peepaw ☺️☺️

warnings 𓏵 ‎ ‎ ‎‎smut | jacuzzi sex | light exhibitionism |unprotected sex (use the damn rubber) | dirty talk | rough sex | mentions of implied voyeurism | semi-public sex (outdoors) | semi-public sex | dom!ben | riding (cowgirl position) | strong language.

the cabin was supposed to be a break—a week away from the chaos, the noise, the bullshit that seemed to follow both of you like a storm cloud. ben had booked it on a whim, grumbling about how even he needed a fucking vacation sometimes, and for once, you didn’t argue. the idea of spending a week in the woods, far from the madness of the city and the constant stress, sounded like heaven.

the place was perfect. small and cozy, tucked deep into the outskirts of town where the roads turned to dirt and the trees seemed to swallow the sky. the cabin had everything you needed: a fireplace, a kitchen stocked with basics, a soft bed that smelled like cedar, and best of all—a jacuzzi on the back deck, overlooking the stretch of forest that went on forever.

by the time the third night rolled around, you’d fallen into a lazy rhythm. mornings spent tangled in bed, afternoons hiking trails or lounging on the deck with beers or tequila in hand, evenings cooking together in the tiny kitchen. ben had been... softer, in his own way. still gruff, still full of snark and sarcasm, but quieter. less tense. you caught him smiling more, the kind of smile that wasn’t for show—real and unguarded, reserved just for you.

you were sprawled on the couch, flipping through some old novel you’d found on the shelf, when he came back from the kitchen with two more beers. he handed you one without a word, leaning against the armrest with that lazy confidence that always made your chest tighten. he was shirtless, the soft glow of the fire highlighting every ridge of muscle, the scars that mapped his body like a story you’d memorized.

“what’re you reading?” he asked, his voice low and rough, the faintest edge of curiosity in it.

“just some old thriller,” you said, holding up the book. “it’s not great, but it’s something.”

he grunted, taking a swig of his beer before his eyes slid toward the glass door leading to the deck. the jacuzzi was out there, bubbling quietly in the dark.

“you ever fuck in a hot tub?” he asked, casual as anything, like he was asking about the weather.

your head snapped up, heat flooding your cheeks. “what?”

“you heard me.” his lips curved into a smirk, that cocky, infuriating smirk that always made your stomach flip. “you ever fuck in a hot tub? ‘cause if not, we’re about to change that.”

“are you serious?” you asked, but you were already setting your book aside, heart pounding as he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet.

“dead serious, sweetheart,” he said, dragging you toward the door. “been thinkin’ about it since we got here. figured tonight’s as good a night as any.”

the cool night air hit your skin as soon as you stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the cabin. the forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves, the kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet at all. the jacuzzi was already steaming, the water glowing faintly from the built-in lights beneath the surface.

“strip,” he ordered, his voice dropping into that commanding tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

you gave him a look, half amused, half exasperated. “You could at least ask nicely.”

“i could,” he agreed, stepping closer, his hands finding your waist. “but you like it when i don’t, don’t you?”

you didn’t answer, but the way your breath hitched when his fingers slid under your shirt was answer enough. he peeled it off in one smooth motion, his eyes darkening as they roamed over your bare skin.

“fuck, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muttered, his hands already tugging at your shorts. “gonna ruin you tonight, baby. make sure you never forget this trip.”

the words sent a rush of heat through you, and by the time you were both naked, the cool air didn’t matter anymore. he climbed into the jacuzzi first, sinking into the water with a groan that was almost obscene.

“c’mon,” he said, holding out a hand. “don’t make me wait, doll.”

you followed, sliding into the water until you were straddling his lap, the heat of the jacuzzi doing nothing to cool the fire building between you. his hands found your hips, pulling you closer until you could feel him, hard and ready beneath you.

“you’re fucking insane,” you murmured, but your voice was breathless, your body already aching for him.

“you love it,” he shot back, his lips brushing against your ear. “love how i can’t get enough of you. love how i make you feel.”

he kissed you then, rough and hungry, his hands roaming over your back, your ass, pulling you against him like he couldn’t stand even an inch of space between you. the water sloshed around you as he shifted, lining himself up and sinking into you with one smooth thrust.

“fuuuuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the edge of the tub. “tight as ever, baby. you feel so goddamn good.”

you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjusted to the stretch, the heat of him inside you. the combination of the hot water and the way he filled you was overwhelming in the best way, your body already trembling as you started to move.

he let you set the pace at first, his hands gripping your hips as you rocked against him, slow and steady. but it didn’t last long. soldier boy was never one to let you stay in control for too long.

“that’s cute,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he grabbed your ass, pulling you down harder. “but you know i can’t let you have all the fun.”

before you could respond, he took over, thrusting up into you with a force that had the water splashing over the edge of the tub. the sound of skin against skin mixed with the bubbling of the jacuzzi and the distant rustle of the woods, the perfect symphony of sin.

“shit,” you gasped, your hands bracing against his chest as he pounded into you, each thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. “ben—fuck, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he growled, his grip tightening on your hips. “you’re gonna take it, baby. every fuckin’ inch. you hear me?”

the faint sounds of the woods around you—the wind in the trees, the occasional snap of a branch. it was like the forest was watching, bearing witness to the way he was wrecking you.

“someone’s probably out there,” he said, his voice dropping to a taunting whisper. “some poor fucker sneaking through the woods, getting an eyeful. bet they wish they were me right now.”

the thought sent a thrill through you, your body clenching around him as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in your core. he felt it, grinning like the smug bastard he was.

“yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. “cum for me, sweetheart. let ‘em hear you.”

you did, your orgasm washing over you like a tidal wave, your cries echoing into the night as he kept fucking you through it, dragging every last bit of pleasure from your trembling body.

“fuck, that’s my girl,” he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release. with one last, rough thrust, he came, his hands gripping you so tightly you knew there’d be bruises in the morning.

you stayed like that for a moment, both of you catching your breath, the water calming around you. the woods were quiet again, as if the forest had been holding its breath right along with you.

“we’re definitely doing that again,” he said finally, his voice rough but satisfied.

you laughed, resting your forehead against his. “maybe next time we’ll try it indoors.”

“where’s the fun in that?” he said, smirking. “besides, i think the woods enjoyed the show.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. this was what you’d come here for—a break, a chance to forget everything else and just be with him. and if the woods were watching, well... let them.

[wonderlandwalker]

Yours to Lose

𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 / 𝐭𝐥𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: abby anderson x reader 𝐰𝐨��𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4k 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Abby has spent years perfecting the art of emotional detachment. Feelings? Overrated. Vulnerability? A weakness. But when an unexpected connection forces her to confront what she’s been avoiding, she realizes some walls were meant to be broken 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: hurt / comfort, porn with plot, mdni

𝐚/𝐧: it ain't much but here's some more horny Abby thoughts

Ever since this thing between you and Abby started, you had braced yourself for arguments, for the sharp edges of two people learning how to fit together without cutting each other. You expected misunderstandings, the occasional flare of frustration, and the slow negotiation of boundaries and needs. But you hadn’t expected this—this icy silence, this chasm between you that neither of you knew how to bridge. ⁠Because Abby is affectionate—fiercely so—but only in her own way. Her hands map your body behind closed doors like she’s committing every curve, every scar, every shudder to memory. She touches you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish if she doesn’t hold on tight enough—fingers digging into your waist, teeth grazing your collarbone, breath hot against your skin as if to remind herself you are real. When you doze together on lazy afternoons, she’ll drag you against her with a quiet, almost desperate urgency, her arm slinging possessively over your ribs, her heartbeat steady against your back, her lips pressing against your shoulder, your neck, your temple—soft, wordless promises whispered into your skin.

But outside, in the harsh light of day where everything feels exposed and scrutinised? She becomes someone else entirely.

The Abby who worships your body in shadows barely acknowledges your existence in sunlight. Where her hands had mapped every inch of you in darkness, they now stay carefully distant in public, never straying, never seeking. You become just another soldier in her periphery—another body taking up space in the mess hall, another voice in mission briefings.

And at first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. That love wasn’t about grand gestures or performative affection. That the way she clung to you in private was enough.

But then the doubts crept in.

Was she ashamed? Was this just another way to keep you at arm’s length? Was she afraid of what it meant if people knew? If they saw the way her fingers twitched when you walked by, if they noticed the way her gaze lingered a second too long when you turned away?

And then—finally—you just… snapped.

It wasn’t even about the lack of a casual touch, a fleeting glance, or a stolen kiss in some dim hallway. It was the way she flinched when your fingers accidentally brushed hers in front of others. The way she stiffened if you stood too close in the training yard. The way she could look at you like you were the only thing that mattered one moment and then act like you were nothing the next.

For a long moment, she just stared at you, her brows knitted together like you were speaking another language, like the very concept of your hurt was foreign terrain. That face—the same one that softened so beautifully when you traced her scars in the dark—now looked at you like you were the mystery. Like she hadn't noticed the way you'd started folding in on yourself, how your hands hesitated before reaching for her even in private. A wall came down so fast you could almost hear the impact. The kind that made your stomach drop because you knew she wasn't coming back from this conversation. Not today. Maybe not ever.⁠ 

Which is why, when some cocky, broad-shouldered arsehole from the infantry unit—the kind who walks like the world owes him something—crowds into your space at the gym, you let him. His name doesn’t even register as his fingers brush your elbow, because all you can think is, Would she care? Would she even notice?

"Your stance is off," he murmurs, voice slick with pretend concern as he steps closer. The reek of his cologne fights with the gym’s familiar scents of sweat and gun oil, creating something nauseatingly intimate in the air between you. His touch lingers—thumb skating along your triceps with practised casualness—but you don’t move away.

Not because you want this.

Not because his calloused hands feel anything like hers.

But because maybe—just maybe—if you stand here long enough, frozen in this awful pantomime of interest, Abby will finally look at you like she used to. Like you still matter.

And oh, fuck, does Abby notice.

She’d been a silent storm since you walked in wearing that outfit—the one that hugs every curve she’s mapped with her tongue, the one that’s been testing the limits of her self-control since you pulled it on this morning. You’d felt her gaze like a physical weight when you stretched, when you adjusted your straps, when you pretended not to see the way her knuckles turned white around her water bottle. The infantry guy doesn’t notice. He’s too busy leaning in, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs some half-assed tip about your form. His fingers trail down to your wrist, and you don’t pull away.

But now, her control is fraying.

The moment hangs suspended; his fingers freeze against your skin, every survival instinct in his body screaming danger a half-second too late.

A blur of motion follows. A primal snarl ripped from Abby’s throat, raw and guttural, the kind of sound that doesn’t belong in a human voice. The crunch of cartilage giving way beneath her knuckles echoes through the suddenly silent gym, louder than any gunshot.

For a heartbeat, he just stares, more stunned than hurt—until the copper tang of blood hits his tongue. It blooms across his mouth in a grotesque flower, thick and glistening, dripping onto his shirt in fat, sluggish drops. 

"Abby, what the fuck?!" you hiss, grabbing her bicep as she steps forward, muscles coiled like a sprung trap, like she’s ready to finish the job. Every corded tendon in her arm trembles with barely restrained violence, her entire body thrumming like a live wire about to snap.

She doesn’t shake you off. She doesn’t even flinch.

Her eyes are wild, pupils swallowing nearly all the blue, leaving something feral and unrecognisable in their wake. Sweat-slick strands of hair stick to her forehead, her breath coming in ragged, animalistic gusts that ghost across your cheek.

The guy scrambles backward on his palms, legs kicking like a flipped beetle. "Jesus Christ, Anderson! It was just—"

Abby’s boot slams down beside his head before he finishes, the impact rattling the floorboards, making the entire gym flinch in unison. 

"Just what?" she growls, voice dripping with venom. "Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you."

The gym has gone deathly silent around you, every WLF soldier frozen in place like prey sensing a predator in their midst. Even the air feels charged, thick with the scent of sweat, iron, and something electric—something dangerous.

"Goddamn it, Abby—I can take care of myself. It's not like you own me."

Your words detonate like a grenade, the shockwave ripping through the fragile space between you.

Something in her face shatters—not just anger now, but something far more dangerous. The realisation that hits her, that breaks her:

She doesn’t own you.

She never has.

No promises were whispered where others could hear. No casual touches in daylight that say mine to the world. Just shadows and secrecy, her love given like contraband—precious but hidden, as if caring for you is something to be ashamed of. ⁠Something tectonic and irreversible clicks behind her eyes, and the fight drains from her all at once, replaced by something infinitely more terrifying. Something hungry. Not battle-lust—you’ve seen that a thousand times—but something darker. Primal.

Her gaze locks onto yours, and suddenly, you can’t breathe.

It’s a look that makes your knees weak and your breath catch, that sends twin sparks of fear and want coursing through your veins. Your pulse thrums in your throat, so loud you’re certain she can hear it. You can’t decide whether to run or beg, whether this is the prelude to an apology or an annihilation.

The gym blurs into nothing—no gawking spectators, no bloodied idiot spitting curses into his palm, no stifled whispers slithering through the ranks. There’s only the sharp, salt-and-iron scent of her skin, the metallic bite of blood still smeared across her split knuckles, the way her chest stutters against yours when you finally, finally collide.

And her eyes.

Christ, her eyes.

They drop to your mouth—just a flicker, just long enough to send lightning down your spine—before locking onto yours again. Dark. Wild. Hungry. Not just wanting, but needing, like she’s been starved for this, for you, and the dam’s just broken.

"Then let me fix that."

Her voice isn’t just rough—it’s ruined, scraped raw from the growl still vibrating in her chest. Her lips graze yours as she speaks, close enough that you taste the desperation on her tongue, the barely restrained struggle in every syllable.

"I’ll fucking show everybody who you belong to."

And then she’s kissing you—

Not like she usually does. Not the slow, worshipful way she kisses you in the quiet dark of her bunk, all murmured praise and lingering touches. Not the frantic, breathless way she kisses you after a long patrol, like she’s trying to relearn the shape of your mouth.

No.

This is claiming.

Her hands are on you before you can even gasp—one fisted in your shirt, dragging you closer like she wants to erase the space between you, the other gripping the back of your neck hard enough to brand. There’s no gentleness here, no hesitation. Just heat and teeth and the slick slide of her tongue against yours, like she’s trying to rewrite every doubt, every hurt, with the bruising force of her mouth.

For the first time, you’re the one painfully aware of the eyes on you—the slack-jawed stares of soldiers frozen mid-rep, the hushed whispers cutting through the gym like static. Abby doesn’t seem to give a fuck. Her hands are everywhere, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents in your skin. Like she’s seconds away from throwing you over her shoulder and giving them all a front-row seat to exactly how far she’s willing to go to prove you’re hers.

"Abby—fuck—not here—" you gasp, and just like that, she gives in. Because, fuck, she'd burn the world down for you. Would crawl through glass if you asked. Would get on her knees and beg, if that's what it took.

Her grip on your wrist is ironclad as she all but drags you back to her quarters, her body a furnace against yours, radiating heat that sears through your clothes. Every step is charged with barely leashed violence, the air between you crackling like the moment before a storm breaks.

The second the door slams shut, she's on you like a woman possessed—hands, mouth, teeth—like she's trying to carve her name into your bones to make up for every second she held back. Her lips trail down your neck and your collarbone, sucking bruises into every inch of skin she can claim, marking you in ways she never dared to before.

You feel her smirk first—the wicked curve of lips against feverish skin—before her fingers slide between your thighs, finding you already dripping, already aching for her.

"Think anybody else can fuck you like I do?" she murmurs, voice thick with smug satisfaction. "Make you cum like I can?"

You’re already a whimpering, shaking mess, thighs trembling around her wrist, but Abby’s relentless.

She starts fucking you on her fingers with brutal precision, curling them just right—that spot only she knows—dragging every broken moan from your lips like she’s starved for the sound, addicted to the way you unravel for her. Her other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, fingertips pressing into bone, holding you in place like you might flee the very pleasure she’s forcing into your veins.

"Look at you," she rasps, voice rough as gravel, dripping with possession. Her gaze burns hotter than her touch. "So fucking perfect. All wrecked and desperate—" A sharp thrust, punctuating her words. "—all mine."

And when you finally shatter, when your thighs clamp around her hand like a vice, a silent scream caught in your throat—she doesn’t let up. Just watches, dark-eyed and ravenous, as you come undone beneath her, as she drinks in every twitch, every gasp, every tear clinging to your lashes.

"That’s it, baby," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your quivering stomach, her tongue flicking against sweat-slick skin. "Give it to me."

You’re still trembling, muscles fluttering and skin slick with sweat, when Abby’s mouth blazes a searing path downward. And then, without warning, she dives in. There’s no hesitation, no teasing build-up—just raw, consuming hunger. She devours you like she’s been starved for it, like the very essence of you is the only thing keeping her alive. Her tongue drags through your folds with filthy, practiced precision, curling around your clit before sucking it hard between her lips. The sensation is too much, your oversensitive nerves sparking with a pleasure so sharp it borders on pain—but Abby doesn’t let up. If anything, the broken sob that tears from your throat only spurs her on. She groans against you, the vibration wracking your body, and her grip tightens where she’s pinning your hips to the mattress. Like she’s afraid you’ll try to escape. Like she needs you to feel just how badly she wants this—wants you.

She wrings orgasm after shuddering orgasm from you, until the world narrows to the sound of her name on your lips, until your voice is raw from pleading and your body trembles with surrender. She doesn’t stop—not until she’s sure you’re teetering on the edge of too much, until your whimpers are as much protest as worship. Only then does she relent, softening her touch to featherlight kisses and slow, trailing fingers, her murmurs a velvet promise against your fevered skin.

And when she’s finished—when your body is a map of her desire, marked by bites and bruises and the ghost of her teeth—she draws back just enough to take you in. Her eyes are black with possession, her breath ragged, her chest rising and falling like she’s just fought a war and won, like she’s daring the world to try and take you from her again.

[gracie-eilish]

roommate!billie [pt. 6, final part]

warnings: none! a longer blurb at the end, so more storyline and less headcanon like lol… maybe a teensy weensy sorta fluffy spicy surprise at the end.

an: thank you for your patience🥹 this month literally got away from me before i knew it!!! july is chalking up to be a busy month too for me, but i’ll still be here. this was the most fun i’ve had writing something so thank you for loving this mini series, it made me so happy🤭

roommate!billie, who pouted every time you mentioned summer break, or packed up some other non essentials in your room.

roommate!billie, who stressed you out by not packing any non essentials, potentially leaving all her packing to the last minute.

roommate!billie, who met you between classes for lunch or little snack breaks now that the weather was getting warmer outside.

roommate!billie, who was already pestering you for your work schedule so you two could make plans to visit each other, thankfully not living too far from each other back home.

“what aboutttttt the 14th through theeeee, uh, the 17th!?” billie was leaning against the side of the bed, as she looked up from her phone, calendar on display, her eyes hopeful and pleading.

“uhhh, yes- wait no sorry. the 16th is my cousins birthday so we’re all getting together for that. but i’m free the 12th through the 15th!” you turned your head back up to look at her from your laptop.

“okay! okay, okay, okayyyy, okay wait yes that works!!!”

“woo!!! okay great!! we can figure out later who’s house we’re gonna go to and everything!!” you closed your laptop with a happy sigh, excited for your little girlfriend vacation planned.

“okay, what are you doing the 2nd through the 7th?”

“huh?”

“of august, that’s another weekend i’m free. so we can get together again.”

“again?”

“babydoll i think you’re forgetting i never wanna spend any time away from you anymore,” she said with a chuckle, her eyes soft yet flirty.

“oh my god,” you flushed and rolled your eyes leaning up to kiss her cheek.

roommate!billie, who was as cool as a cucumber most times, but would stress like crazy over her finals.

roommate!billie, who you quickly leaned back in august, was a perfectionist with her music. always mumbling something about this song needing to be perfect.

roommate!billie, who spent hours, staying up late in practice rooms in the arts building, or in the recording/writing studios. always careful not to slam the door shut when she got back, long after you had fallen asleep.

the door clicked closed so softly it was practically undetectable. she toed off her sneakers, carefully setting her bag down on her desk chair. she changed into sweats before she left, knowing she’d just want to brush her teeth and knock out.

and that’s exactly what she did. careful to close the bathroom door softly, and shut off the light before opening the door again.

she padded back into your shared room, gave softening into a sleepy smile at the sight of you all tucked in… wearing her hoodie.

she peeled away the small throw blanket, the one that barely covered your two beds pushed together; it was enough to keep you two warm as you snuggled. she froze when you stirred slightly, scrunching your nose a bit and sighing in your sleep, before opening your puffy, sleepy eyes.

“you’re home,” you squeaked out.

home. like as in home dorm room? as in home, the place where you two reside? as in home like… your home together? billie melted a bit.

“yeah mama, i’m home.” she slid in next to you, letting you maneuver yourself into her side like a sleepy kitten, before falling back asleep in seconds.

billie chuckled affectionately, kissing your head before letting sleep find her too.

roommate!billie, who over the months had been able to spot your sleepy tendencies before you even could

“no, i said the same thing to her!! like girl, if you’re gonna be stupid at least be smart about it!!” your friend ranted on about some girl she bumped into at a party, the little common room down the hall from your dorm burst into giggles and laughter at her theatrics.

you were snuggled up into billie’s side, head on her shoulder, her arm around your waist, while you two enjoyed your friend groups company. after the laughter died down, you shifted to be closer to her, head nuzzling deeper into her shoulder. billie shifted too so she could hold you more easily.

“comfy?” she asked quietly.

“mmhmm,” you nodded on her shoulder with a sleepy smile.

“if you’re sleepy we can go back to the room, bub,” she offered, her thumb moving back and forth on your waist under your sweatshirt.

“m’not sleepy yet,” you mumbled, eyes beginning to glaze over the with beginnings of sleep. billie chuckled and kissed the top of your head, turning some of her attention back to your friends, keeping the rest of her attention on you and your dozing self.

you always snuggled closer when you felt yourself getting sleepy. check. then you started talking quieter, practically mumbling your words. check.

all that was left was your adorable head bobbing, and droopy eyes slowly blinking back open with all the effort you could muster.

the second she felt your head slowly melt into her shoulder, just to jolt back up to its original position, she giggled before convincing you to come to bed.

“you’re gonna get a crick in your neck, i want you to be comfy,” she giggled through her words, watching your grumpy, pouty, tired expression.

so the two of you (well mainly billie) said your goodnight to your friends and made your way down the hall to your room where you truly were out like a light in bed.

☀️🕶️🧴👙🍉⛱️

roommate!billie, who was clingy as ever when the dreaded last full day on campus was here.

you two woke up together, billie spread out on top of you, head on your chest, leg over your hip, arm around your waist, just truly all over you. and you let her. you didn’t move, even when you realized you had woken up because of how bad you needed to pee. you didn’t move her.

you two spent the whole day together. going to the meal hall those last few times, trying to spend the rest of your dining dollars so you didn’t lose them, holding hands while walking back to the dorms as the sun began to set over campus.

it all felt so domestic and cozy even, as you two finished packing. only leaving your essential toiletries and bedding and whatnot.

you couldn’t help but tear up a bit at the sight of your room, once so full of life and love, now was empty. you had never seen it empty when you thought about it, because billie had moved in first all those months ago. you two stood by the door, looking at your room, arms around each others backs, billie’s head on your shoulder.

“we did good this year bub.”

“yeah, we did.” you leaned up to kiss her cheek.

“i love you,” she said, a soft smile on her face.

“i love you too.”

you spent some more time packing and cleaning, wiping the mirrors and sink, pulling the gel clings from your window, peeling off any tape or poster tack as best as you could without ripping the paint.

by the time you two were pretty much finished for the night, you both were hot and sweaty and exhausted.

“i’m gonna shower real quick, i don’t wanna drive home all gross tomorrow,” billie nodded at your words, kissing your cheek before settling onto the bed.

you grabbed your towel and made your way to the bathroom door.

“billie?” you poked your head back out into your room.

“yeah mama?” she was still looking at her phone. only looking up when the silence began to stretch. “you okay, baby?”

“do you wanna.. um do you uh..” you cleared your throat. “do you wanna shower with me?” you looked like a baby deer. eyes wide, hands shaking.

“really?”

“mmhmm.” you nodded.

“yeah.. yeah i’d love that baby.” she tried to keep her excitement soft, so she wouldn’t overwhelm you. you smiled softly before slipping back into the bathroom, now full of steam.

billie had to take a breath before opening the door, calming her racing heart.

you were fiddling with the temperature, clearly stalling, only stopping when billie placed her hands on your waist softly.

“hi,” she whispered, pecking your jaw.

“hi,” you giggled dreamily.

“can i try something before we get in?” you nodded, confused but you trusted her.

she went back into her room and grabbed the touch lamp off her desk, as well as a candle she left out of her bag. she bumped the door open wider with her hip, placing the lamp and candle on the counter. she tapped on the lamp to a bright but warm setting, and the lit the candle filling the room with vanilla. she flipped the big light switch, leaving the room warm and soft.

she turned back to you with a softness in her gaze, holding her hands out to grab your waist as you moved closer.

she kissed your cheek before whispering in your ear, “relax for me angel.”

“mkay,” you sighed out, as she began to pepper kisses on your jaw and down your neck, making you melt in her arms.

as she continued her descent down your neck, she reached up to remove your hair tie, letting your hair fall down around your shoulders, before setting her hands back on your waist.

she toyed with the hem of your top before leaning back to look at you.

“can i?”

you swallowed. “yeah.”

carefully she pushed your top up and over your shoulders, helping you pull it over your shoulders. before billie could oogle longer, you did the same for her. she nodded permission before her top was off and falling to the floor.

swiftly but carefully, the rest of your clothes were taken off, leaving you both bare before each other. you couldn’t make eye contact with billie you were so nervous. until she ever so gently tipped your head up with her finger under your chin.

she knew going right into fawning over you wouldn’t have much of an effect right now, maybe it would even overwhelm you seeing how nervous you were. so she kept it as routine as she could… with a bit of lovings in there too.

“hi gorgeous,” she whispered when your eyes met hers, her smile perfect enough to shatter your heart.

“hi,” you barely squeaked out, smile small but dreamy.

“c’mon mama,” she helped you into the small shower, holding your hand while her other hovered over your waist.

for a while you two stood under the stream of water for a bit. billie had her arms around your waist from behind, her chin resting on your shoulder, swaying the two of you a bit.

“you okay, pretty girl?”

“yeah. i’m okay.”

“you’re hearts racing lovey..”

“m’just nervous… i don’t even know why,” you both giggled a bit.

“i don’t… i don’t wanna do anything more than this if that’s okay.. m’sorry if i made you think i wanted to um..”

she cut you off with a kiss to your jaw. “baby if you think i was ever planning on taking your virginity in the dorm shower, please break up with me and exile me to another country.”

you laughed out loud at that, visibly relaxing more into billie’s hold.

“okay good. because i was actually gonna be kinda annoyed with myself if i let that happen.” billie giggled pressing some more kisses to your shoulder.

“okay, as much as i love loving on you in here, it is getting late, so lemme clean you up doll.” the next twenty minutes or so were a dreamy, melty blur of body wash being massaged into skin, and fingers on scalps massaging in shampoo, and an intimacy neither of you had experienced before.

when you two had finally finished up and dried off, billie cleaned up the bathroom one last time, before shutting off the lights and slipping into bed next to you.

you cuddled up to each other like almost every other night this semester, fitting like two puzzle pieces perfectly with each other.

you two stayed up what felt like all night, reminiscing on the year you two had. going from strangers, to roommates, to best friends, to even more. giggling over inside jokes made, and funny party mishaps, feeling sentimental, telling secret stories from when you two were secretly crushing on the other, and of course reliving the big moments in your relationship.

eventually you two drifted off to dreamland both mid sentence, not wanting the night to end. but the sun rising off in the distance told both of you how late it had gotten.

holding on to each other tight like rose and jack on the titanic, as if you weren’t gonna see each other like every weekend over the summer. you two loved each other too much to let go.

… and to think, this was in fact the end of freshmen year, but it was only the beginning for you two.

[straylightdream]

I don’t understand but I love you

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeon wonwoo x afb.reader

He met you when he was going through a rough patch. Everything felt dark, but you suddenly felt like sunshine on a rainy day. The darkness taking over him finally had light shining at the end of the void.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): strangers to lovers, mutual pining, romance, comfort, angst, suggestive

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): nonidol au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much angst, daddy issues, mc’s father had an affair, family issues, wonwoo was cheated on by his ex, lots of emotions, suggestive

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: pg13

𝐚𝐧: this is part of @bella-feed 's and @sanaxo-o 's 100 follower event. Thank @aeristudios for helping me figure out this story. Thank you @supi-wupi for beta reading.

🎧: I don’t understand but I luv u - seventeen | daylight - taylor swift

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰��𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Curled up against his body, your mind wanders off to a million different places. This place in his bed isn’t an unfamiliar place. In the warmth of his sheets curled up against him you’ve grown to find comfort.

What you feel for Wonwoo can’t quite be explained. Is this love? You aren't sure. But when you look in his eyes, your heart blossoms like flowers in the spring, an awakening in you that you don't want to end. Maybe you aren't meant to understand your feelings, you don't get it right now, and that's okay.

Meeting him filled the void in your empty chest. Life felt as if it was crumbling below you. Your father’s affair ruined your family. You moved away to a city you didn’t know to distance yourself from the pain.

Wonwoo’s own life was crumbling around him. The life he was building for himself showed no signs of cracking. One day everything was perfect and the next everything was destroyed.

He met you when he was going through a rough patch. Everything felt dark, but you suddenly felt like sunshine on a rainy day. The darkness taking over him finally had light shining at the end of the void.

Wonwoo was going through possibly the worst breakup of his life. The girl he thought he was going to marry turned out she was cheating on him with her boss. Wonwoo found out this unfortunate information the day he was going to propose to her.

Meeting you at the bar felt like fate. The moment he saw you he knew he needed to know you. Like a moth drawn to flame.

That first night ended up tangled in his sheets all night. He couldn’t get enough of you.

Fingers tangled in his curls holding him close. The void in your chest dulled a little with each touch. The warmth behind his eyes had a sense of sadness behind them. You were two broken souls who found refuge in each other that night.

It should have been nothing more than a one night. Without thinking you jotted your number down in a sticky note, leaving it behind on his nightstand. You probably could have stayed and had breakfast, but instead chose to sneak out once Wonwoo’s breathing finally evened out.

Walking back to your small apartment you hoped and prayed that the boy you just ran from would call you.

That morning you weren’t even awake yet when he reached out. That was the beginning of your endless cycle.

His fingers slowly run across your spine over and over again. He touches you like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your skin. The room is silent outside the light hum of the fan and the gentle sound of the rain outside.

It’s time for you to go. You don’t normally stay in his bed this late. Why is it that even though you should leave your body won’t move? There is an ache deep inside you at just the thought of leaving him. Does he feel it too? Are you alone with these confusing feelings?

Reaching up, you rest your hand on his heart. Feeling the gentle beat below. Does his heart beat for you?

“You’re not running away?” His raspy voice catches you off guard. You should run, you’ve become good at running. You want to stay. You want to understand this blossoming feeling you get when you’re around him.

“Should I?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“I don’t want you to.”

You stay for the first time. You don’t run away scared, you stay wrapped up in his sheets, until he’s convinced you to take a shower and to eat lunch together.

Everything about this feels too domestic too natural, and you like it. You like the warmth he gives you even if it terrifies you.

“I should head out.”

Pushing his glasses up further up his bridge he wears a sad smile. “When can I see you again?” He asked the same question he asks you each time you run from him.

“I’m not sure.” You’re never actually sure. You try to stay away knowing that what you feel for him can hurt you. The thing is you can never stay away long. It’s been three months and every time you leave he reaches out to you and eventually you crave him like a hunger you can’t explain.

There’s no goodbye kiss or even a hug, you just walk out the door.

Five days pass when the aching feeling in your chest is too strong. It’s close to midnight when you text him asking to come over. The rain hasn’t let up as you walk down the street from your train station. The rain has left your hair damp and your clothes sticking to your body. Walking up to his door you knock waiting for him. The door opens and there he is looking soft. He’s wearing a pair of sweats and nothing else. His hair is fluffy and his glasses have fallen down the bridge of his nose like they tend to do.

“Hi.” This is the part that’s always so awkward.

“Hi.” He steps aside letting you in.

“Could I possibly shower?” You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get changed.

He walks off to the linen closet and hands you a towel. He doesn’t follow you to the bathroom like he has done many times before.

You hoped the hot water would warm you up and push away all the thoughts that are eating away at you. Not even the scent of his coconut shampoo can help clear your mind. The door clicks open and you wait to see if the curtain will slide open. Nothing happens. Turning off the water, pulling the curtain back, you grab the towel. The sight of nicely folded dry clothes waiting for you makes you smile.

Dressing in the pair of his sweatpants and the baggy shirt he left you. Being dressed in his clothes has always felt like a warm hug. Walking out you hear the sound of a game coming from his room. Walk in and find him sitting at his expensive gaming setup.

The sound of the door clicking shut earns his attention. He exits the game and looks over at you smiling.

“Can we possibly just cuddle?” You want nothing more than to just be held by him.

“Absolutely.”

-

He clings to you desperate to keep you close. How can you run if he won’t let you go? He’s never experienced the feelings he has for you. Is it too soon to already be in love? Without even trying you’ve managed to mend the cracks in his broken heart.

“Baby—“ His chest aches at the thought you might run away scared.

“Yes?”

“I want to try and be something more than this.”

Screaming silence takes over the room. You say nothing for a long moment. Your fingers fidget with the blanket.

“Something more?”

“I feel things for you that I can't quite explain.” He wants nothing more than to let yourself fall in love with him.

“I don’t understand anything that I’m feeling, but I know you filled the hollow feeling in my chest.”

“Meeting you was sunshine on the rainiest day.” He drags his finger across your arm.

“I once believed the feeling of love was black and white. Meeting you made everything feel golden.”

“I don’t know if I was supposed to meet you. All I know is you mean everything to me. I can’t quite understand it but I love you.” Those last three words are something he wasn’t quite sure he would ever mutter to another person.

-

Closing your eyes you take in his words. Everything before him felt like darkness. Suddenly it’s all daylight.

“Can you say something please?”

“I don’t understand but I think I love you.”

He rolls both your bodies. His hand rests on either side of your head, caging you in. Reaching up, resting your hand on his cheek.

“Wonwoo I should leave.” Admitting you possibly love him is terrifying.

“Please stop running. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“What if I hurt you?” Slowly dragging your thumb across his bottom lip.

“You won’t.”

Leaning down he presses his lips to yours, just like he has too many times to count. This time things feel different.

“I’m scared.” You whispered against his lips.

“I’m scared too.” How does he get you to understand he knows deep down inside things will work out?

“Stop running and open yourself up to me more.”

“Wonwoo—“

He pulls away from you, sitting on his knees between your spread legs.

“I can’t keep doing this whole casual thing. When we’re apart I yearn for you. I desperately want to talk to you. I want to know how you’re feeling. I want to be near you.” He pauses, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“Everything was dull before you. Not even Mia made me feel this way. She didn’t feel like a bright star in the dark night. I thought I loved her—“

“You’re still healing. You loved her.” Maybe if he didn’t love her, he wouldn’t have been so broken when you met him.

“I might have loved her, but it didn’t feel like this.”

He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m not asking for you to fully commit. I would just like more.”

Reaching out you hold out your hand. “Can you be patient with me?”

“Yes.”

“These feelings I have for you scare me. When I look into your eyes I see warmth behind him. The way you look at me as if I’m the only person in the universe. I don’t ever want that feeling, that I’m your universe to go away.”

He moves forward. Taking your face in his hands. “Let yourself freely fall for me. My feelings for you won’t ever fade.”

“Okay.” One simple word changed everything. You weren’t sure what the future held. You just knew that you had to let yourself fully fall in love with him. Your confusing feelings weren’t one sided. Wonwoo had also fallen hard and fast, left confused by the love he felt.

Sometimes love is hard to explain, but you just need to let yourself love him like you deserve.

“Baby, will you go on a real date with me? A proper one where I take you out, and at the end of the night I kiss you goodnight, and pray you’ll text me, you want to see me again.”

Moving so you’re sitting on your knees in front of him.

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

Leaning forward he rested his nose against yours. A smile tugs at his lips knowing you’re finally letting your walls down.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[ruebossanova]

Could you please write something with Abby Anderson x femme reader inspired by the song Sanitized by Katie Gavin?

Thank youu!🤍🤍

almost clean - abby anderson

genre: angst/fluff

word count: 1.2k

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it’s cold.

seattle-cold. late evening. the kind that makes the walls feel thinner than they are, the kind that slips under doorways and into your sleeves when you’re not looking. you’re curled on the couch, blanket over your legs, a mug of something warm cooling on the coffee table.

you haven’t seen her in six months.

so when the knock comes—sharp, short, familiar—you don’t move.

maybe it’s nothing. maybe it’s not her. maybe—

the knock comes again. slower this time.

you swallow.

you get up.

the floor feels colder than it should. your sock slides slightly on the wood. everything in you is trying to stay still, trying to pretend this is just a package delivery, a mistake, a ghost.

but your hand lands on the doorknob anyway.

when you open it, she’s standing there.

abby.

hood up, jacket zipped, hands in her pockets, breath curling from her mouth in small white clouds. her eyes lift when she sees you.

she doesn’t say anything at first.

neither do you.

then—softly:

“hey.”

your heart kicks against your ribs like it’s trying to claw its way out.

“hi,” you manage. voice dry.

a beat.

she shifts on her feet.

“can i… come in?”

you hesitate. you hate yourself for it. but you nod.

you step aside.

she passes you, her shoulder brushing yours gently. she smells like cold and rain and the same shampoo she used to leave in your shower. you shut the door behind her.

she doesn’t sit.

you don’t offer.

for a minute, you just stand there. her eyes sweep the room—same couch, same walls, same blanket she used to fall asleep under with her head in your lap.

she looks tired. but not broken.

you wonder if you look the same to her.

you clear your throat.

“didn’t expect to see you.”

she nods slowly.

“i know.”

“no call. no text. no anything.”

“i know.”

she finally looks at you.

“i didn’t know how.”

you walk back to the couch without a word. sit down. she follows, slow like she’s afraid the furniture might reject her. she doesn’t sit next to you—she takes the far end.

a small space. but it feels enormous.

she leans forward, elbows on knees, head down.

“you look good,” she says after a moment. voice low, unsure.

you don’t answer right away. then: “you don’t have to say that.”

“i’m not lying.”

you look over at her. she’s not looking at you. her jaw’s tight. her hands are flexing between open and closed.

you sip the lukewarm drink. grimace.

“you want tea or something?”

she shakes her head. “i’m good.”

silence again.

you hate this.

you used to talk about everything. even when it hurt. even when the world outside was collapsing. even when she came back with bruises and blood and you held her in the dark.

but this? this is worse.

“why now?” you ask finally.

her head turns. she meets your eyes.

“i thought about coming by for a long time.”

“but didn’t.”

“i didn’t think you wanted to see me.”

you breathe through your nose. not a laugh. not quite anger.

“so you waited until i stopped being mad?”

she frowns. “no. i just… didn’t want to make it worse.”

you stare at her. hard. until she looks away again.

“you left,” you say. “you left when i needed you most.”

her shoulders tense. she doesn’t defend herself.

you continue.

“i didn’t need you to be perfect. i didn’t even need you to say the right thing. i just needed you to show up, abby.”

she swallows. nods. “i know.”

“do you?”

she closes her eyes.

“i didn’t leave because i didn’t care,” she says. “i left because i was scared i’d break more than i’d fix.”

you exhale slowly. your chest hurts.

“you broke it anyway.”

she doesn’t try to defend herself. doesn’t throw excuses. she just looks at her hands like they hold the answer she never figured out.

“i didn’t know how to be what you needed,” she says quietly. “i didn’t even know how to look at you without feeling like i was making it worse.”

you swallow hard.

“do you really think i needed you to fix anything?”

“i think…” she hesitates, jaw clenching. “i think i wanted to be strong. for you. but every time i looked at you i saw what you were carrying, and i hated that i couldn’t take it from you.”

“so instead you added to it.”

she nods. doesn’t deny it.

your throat tightens. the air feels thin.

“do you know how many nights i lay in this room and wished you’d just show up?” your voice cracks despite your best effort. “not to fix anything. not to say the perfect thing. just to be here?”

she leans back like the words hit her physically.

“i wanted to,” she says. “so bad. i’d get to the street and sit in the car for an hour sometimes. just… staring at your window.”

“and then drive away.”

“yeah.”

the words hang there. awful and soft.

you look at her, really look—how tired her eyes are, how her voice wobbles when she swallows, how her fingers have started fidgeting like she’s trying not to shake.

you want to yell.

you want to cry.

you want to crawl into her lap and press your face to her neck and pretend you’re both still whole.

instead, you ask:

“do you regret it?”

her breath catches.

“every fuckin’ day.”

you don’t mean to—but your hand reaches out, rests between you on the couch.

and slowly, gently, hers finds yours.

her fingers are rougher than you remember. colder too. but they wrap around yours like they’re still meant to be there.

you look down at your hands, joined so quietly, so simply, like it wasn’t a six-month war to get here.

she doesn’t say anything.

neither do you.

but you both feel it.

her thumb strokes the back of your hand. slow, absent. her eyes are on the floor. her knees are spread wide, boots tapping a quiet rhythm.

you shift closer, knees brushing.

she doesn’t flinch.

you glance at her.

“i missed you.”

her jaw tenses. she blinks slowly, like she’s fighting it.

“i missed you too.”

you move closer still, until your thighs touch. the warmth between you is sudden, startling.

she glances at you. “can i—”

you don’t let her finish. you lean into her side, your head against her shoulder. her breath stutters but her arm lifts immediately, wrapping around your back, pulling you in.

“fuck,” she whispers into your hair. “i forgot what this felt like.”

you close your eyes. inhale.

she still smells like herself. a little like sweat, like cold, like something real.

you breathe deeper. your voice small.

“don’t leave again.”

her grip tightens.

“i won’t.”

your head stays against her shoulder for a long time. she doesn’t move. her hand rubs slow circles into your spine, not trying to start anything—just holding you like she finally remembers how.

your eyes drift shut.

then open again.

you lift your head slightly, just enough to look up at her.

her eyes are already on you.

and in that moment—everything’s back.

the way she used to hold you tighter in her sleep.

the way she whispered your name like it meant something sacred.

the way she always kissed you once before leaving, and once again, softer, like she never wanted to go.

you tilt your face toward hers, inches away. her breath mixes with yours.

“abby…”

she leans in.

your lips almost touch.

but then she pulls back.

“i want to,” she says, voice rough. “so bad.”

you nod, throat tight.

“me too.”

she presses her forehead to yours instead. her hand cups your cheek.

“but if i kiss you now, i won’t leave tonight.”

“then don’t.”

she closes her eyes. “not yet. i need to come back for the right reasons.”

your chest stings—but also, weirdly, settles.

“okay.”

“but i’ll come back.”

you lean into her touch. “promise?”

“yeah. i promise.”

you sit like that a while longer. when she finally shifts, you help her lay back on the couch. you curl beside her. her arm wraps around you without needing to be asked.

“i can stay a little while,” she whispers.

you nod into her shoulder.

“stay.”

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

tags; @zombiecatsass @mxmsuki

[quietplace26]

Furina!MC au: Omegaverse Edition. Version 2.

Notes: This is just an alternative take on my first Omegaverse au. Sorry if it's shorter compared to the first one, but I couldn't get this idea out my mind.

Warnings: OCness, Cringe, some sexual non-sexual stuff (like cuddling while being naked), nudity, Dragon!Neuvillette

Like version 1, Focalors forces Furina!MC to hide her Omega nature, only, it stays hidden right up to Focalors' death.

And poor Furina!MC, she knew about the trial, knew it was needed, but it still hurts.

Add in the last few days leading up the prophecy had been stressing her out, pushing her body to the brink, didn't help either.

So, it wasn't a shock to her that she slowly dislocates during the trial, swaying in place as her flutter to stay open.

It's only when she left forgotten inside the Opera House, left on her throne, did she feel it. She feels Focalors die.

And the veil Focalors forcibly placed on her finally crumbles after 500 years of use, and the sour stench of a terrified Omega fills the courtroom.

Everything was too much, the scents, the feel of her clothes on her skin. Too tight! She was too hot-

Was... Was her body going into heat?! She barely remembers what her heats used to feel like...

She lets out a sob, stumbling to her feet as she slowly makes her way outside.

Nest. She... She needed to get back to her room at the Palais to make herself a nest.

But could she? She hasn't made one in 500 years. Focalors never let her make one...

Her hands claw at her neck, jerking the collar of her shirt open, whimpering in relief as her swollen scent glands were finally free from the itchy material.

Furina!MC knew she probably looked horribly, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting back to her room before someone smells her-

But when she stumbles outside, she freezes.

There, at the foot of the Opera House, was Neuvillette.

Now, without the veil muffling her sense of smell, she could finally smell his prime Alpha scent, which was probably stronger now that he had his Authority back.

He was an Alpha Dragon. The strongest of any Alphas possible.

Her mind feels hazy... He... He would be the perfect Alpha... He could look after her heat-

Her feet move on their own as she slowly made her way to Neuvillette, barely noticing him talking to the Traveler, or the growing crowd of Fontainians before them.

Her lips tremble as she lets out a soft, pained keen. It was shaky and rough, but it was a clear cry from an Omega in need.

The area immediately grows silent, and all eyes turn to the trembling Archon.

Neuvillette stares at her, worried and confused, before his nose twitches, and his eyes quickly turn to slits, his scent growing stronger.

"Lady Furina!MC? You... Why do you smell like-"

Furina!MC knees buckle, and Neuvillette caught her in seconds.

She purrs in relief as the scent of an Alpha filled her nose, making her whine happily.

She was so deep in her Omega headspace she didn't care how she looked before the crowd as rubbed her cheek on her Ludex's robe, scenting him with a shaky purr.

She nuzzles her face into his collar, trying to nose her way to his scent gland-

Faintly she hears someone next her (Sigewinne?) saying 'Stress heat', 'Omega?', and 'Ferals', before snarls start filling the air.

Several Alphas in the crowd had reacted to her sudden heat, a heat so strong it was pushing several human alphas into ruts, and was trying to claw their way on to her, reaching out for her, wanting to bite and claim-

A now equally feral Neuvillette puts a stop to that nonsense with a roar. He was above these human Alphas, so one roar was enough to make them run.

The Sovereign pays no mind to the crowd or the Traveler when they demanded answers, only rumbles something to the Melusines there, and carries Furina!MC off.

Omega. Pretty Omega. Hurt Omega. He needed to get this his Omega somewhere no filthy Alpha could touch her-

He takes her away from the Court of Fontaine, taking her to an area near Merusea Village, his own den that he used when he needed to be away from humans.

Pretty Omega would be happy here in his den and nest-

Furina!MC sighs happily as she's lowered into a soft nest, foggy teardrop eyes blink slowly up at Neuvillette as some sense of reality seeps back in.

"N-Neuvillette... 'm sorry. Didn't mean to lie- Focalors, she-"

Tears fall down her cheeks as her scent spurs even more. She wanted to tell the truth, about the prophecy and her nature, but Focalors said NO.

The Alpha shushes her gently, brushing her tears away, before backing away from the nest, causing Furina!MC to cry out as she didn't want him to leave-

But he glowed a soft Hydro Blue, and his body began to ripple, before growing bigger, longer... Soon, a dragon filled the den. A dragon that smelled like Neuvillette.

Now that he had his Authority back, he could freely shift back into his dragon form that was lost in his reincarnation.

The rumbling purr he let out immediately made Furina!MC go boneless as he slithers back into the nest, curling around her tiny form.

His scaly nose brushes against her neck, against swollen scent glands, gently licking the swollen, irritated flesh, making her mewl relief.

It wasn't sexual. He was just scenting her, helping calm her irritated flesh.

Her clothes slowly slip off, bringing more relief as her heated body met cool air, but again, no intercourse. No mating.

Letting an Alpha mate her was not what she needed at the moment. Neuvillette knew that, could sense it.

Furina!MC needed cuddles, badly, and cuddling a scaly, Alpha Dragon seemed to be the perfect medicine.

Neuvillette's scales were cool to the touch, not rough at all, perfect to rub her heated body against as she slowly drifts off to a more relax state.

Neuvillette carefully rubs his scent glands all over her form, helping ease her stress heat, and making her feel good without any need to mate.

She was surrounded by Neuvillette's scent and coils. Her mind was quiet, no Focalors cruelty whispering in her head. Her body HERS again.

And as if it clicks, her scent finally shifts to a more sweet one. One that she remembers even if it's been 500 years.

Blueberries and the scent of Petrichor. Her old Omega scent, finally hers again.

The happy purrs of a contented Omega fills the dark den...

Furina!MC purse, purrs, and purrs, slowly getting used to purring again as she rubbed her cheek against cool scales, mewling happily when the Sovereign returned her nuzzles.

Soon, she was wrapped up securely in Neuvillette protective hold. His large body curled around her smaller form, claws gently gripping her body, his tail wrapped firmly around one of her thighs.

She was safe and secure.

In the back of her mind, she knew they'd have a lot to talk about once her stress heat passes.

That included Fontaine's reaction to everything as well...

But that time is later, and Furina!MC rather focused on the current moment.

She wanted cuddles. She would get cuddles.

Hm... But maybe after a small nap...

So with a sleepy purr, she murmurs Neuvillette's name one last time before letting herself drift off to sleep, the sound of the Sovereign's purrs and his scent easing her to dreamland...

Tagging: @platinumrosetail, @arn9tails, @bloodytea, @esthelily

[dulcecherub]

Sunshine & Rain

S5! Rafe x Sofia

Author’s note: based on the bts we’ve seen and what I potentially see could happen. Don’t hate me yall… this is angst.

When will I forgive my heart for getting me in trouble

Sofia bite her lip, she could feel a rise of anxiety filling her stomach. Settling in the worse way. She continued to stand behind the bar in the island club. Her new job. Since quitting the pelican yacht club. She was too embarrassed to even step foot back there. Despite the fact that the same kooks who frequent the pelican yacht club. Also frequented the island club. She avoided direct eye contact but sometimes she’ll catch snippets of what they were saying. Things she tried to pretend she didn’t hear.

Her stomach turned, her eyes staring at the brown counter. She poured another customer a drink. And pretended to act like this feeling wasn’t weighing on her. The customer was slumped against the bar, not really paying attention to her. Nor her him. Her mind was elsewhere.

She was too busy in thought. To realize someone was standing to her right.

“The island club, huh?” She nearly jumped and swiveled to see… him. Rafe. Oh her stomach hurt now.

He ran his finger on the counter of the bar. She didn’t speak at first, her eyes she presumed were probably wide.

“Rafe.”

He continued to stare at her. Now his turn not speaking. He shook his head, rubbed at his brow. “That’s all you have to say to me? Rafe. That’s all? No, hey we should talk. I practically ruined your life. Humiliated you to the whole island over a scam. But no, you just—”

“So you’re just here to argue?” She can even hear in her own ears how defensive she got. His eyes narrowed at her. She shook her head, turning around.

“Hi! I’m talking to you!” She narrowed her own eyes and whipped her head back to him.

“And who said I wanted to talk?” She snapped back.

“Sofia.”

Fuck. It was her manager.

“If you two are going to argue. Please take it outside.” He said, not really regarding either of them further. Sofia finally looked around to notice other patrons staring at her. Her cheeks felt hot, she rubbed against them gently.

“That sounds like a great idea.” His tone is condescending and all she can do is glare at him. “Sofia.” He motions to the door and she… follows.

Wish I didn’t let my emotions run the way they run me

And I've always been a hopeless romantic/No matter how many times it went and did me damage

Sofia tapped against her leg as she sat on the park picnic table. Rafe strolled back and forth in front of her. His eyes not leaving hers. He was so infuriating, here he comes, wanting to talk and this is what he decided to do. God, he was—

“400k. You know how hard that was to make. Me. By myself. No help from anyone. My dad is six feet under.”

“I know that.” She whispered.

“400k! Sofia!”

“Okay! I understand that!”

She closed her eyes, she wasn’t the type of person to yell. Unless she was really angry and now she was really angry. Yes, she knows she messed up astronomically. Caused a huge dent that put a wedge between them. She knew, there was no need to keep throwing it back in her face.

“If you understood that! Why did you do that to me?! Huh?! After every— after everything I’ve ever done for you!”

Sofia sat back, her arm against the picnic table. Her eyes narrowed, she shook her head. He acted as if he hadn’t done things to hurt her too. As if he’d done the most grandest of gestures. She took a deep breath. He stood there, rigid. His arms crossed, his jaw set. He didn’t look like the Rafe before. Shiny eyed, gentle, and soft. He was this Rafe. Maybe the truest version of himself he’d ever been.

“Putting a ring on my finger and letting me stay at your house. Isn’t doing everything for me. You can’t pretend like our relationship was perfect Rafe. It was far from it.” She scoffs and his eyes widen with exasperation. “You act as if you didn’t hurt m—”

“Oh wow, really? Hurt you, that’s rich. I didn’t do anything to—”

“I was talking Rafe.” He scoffs, then extends his arm for her to continue.

“I heard what you said about me.”

His brows furrow. He opens his mouth but closes it again, his eyes narrow. “What’re you even talking about?” Then it seems like it dawns on him. His cheeks turn pink.

“You weren’t meant to hear that.”

It’s Sofias turn for her eyes to widen in disbelief. Her hands going to her mouth, as if she was in a prayer. Her eyes closing, she exhaled a sharp breath.

“Thank you for showing me exactly who you are Rafe.”

“Wha—”

Sofia stood up quickly, turning on her heels, she wasn’t really in the mood to hear what he had to say. And she didn’t want to hear what he wanted to say.

“Sofia, don’t leave.” She couldn’t distinguish his tone, her hands balled into fist. Her body whipping around to stare at him. She bet if she could see herself, there would be balls of fire where her eyes should be.

“For what? So you can continue to yell at me? That I’m a bad person who hurt you? You hurt me too! But god, no matter what. You make everything about yourself! And I’m tired of it, Rafe!” Her nails were now digging into her palm, she bet she’d see the crescent shapes of her nails on her palms, if she had a look. He continued to glare at her.

“It’s your fault I lost all that damn money!” His own hands now balling into fists. “Your petty act took 400k from me! If you’d just talked to—”

“I tried to! When you were trying to propose to me! I tried to tell you. But you said that you didn’t care. And I-I believed you.”

He just scoffed, his arms crossing against his chest. He looked away from her a second, pacing around the picnic table. “You still could have told me. I was blindsided Sofia. How was that fair?”

For a moment, Sofia didn’t speak. He had her there. She knew she had reacted irrationally. She wasn’t proud of what she did. She’d been remorseful after. Trying her very best to undo what she’d done. But she was sick of him justifying everything he did too. She was too busy looking away to realize he had stopped pacing. He was staring at her, mapping out her face. When she finally faced to look at him, his eyes were soft. His eyes were filled over, his bottom lip quivering as he spoke once again.

“I love you Sofia.” Her face scrunched up. She was confused how he went from feeling betrayed by her. To this. He never made sense that way. She looked away once more unable to face him head on. “But you have to agree. Understand that what you did was irreparable.”

She felt her throat tighten up. Was he ending things with her for good? She blinked rapidly, scratching her face. She knew this would be a conversation. She knew he would eventually finally make her face what she’d done.

“But if you just apologies for what you did. Then I could look past this. You and I can be together again. Okay.” He croaked, she looked up again, seeing tears sliding down his cheek.

“What?”

“You know how hard it was. To be so far away from you. Worried you found someone else. Worried you were forgetting me.”

It wasn’t Rafe Cameron, if he wasn’t throwing you a curveball every once in a while. She tilted her head to the side, still confused.

“I—” What annoyed her was, he was acting like he hadn’t completely destroyed her. Completely hurt her and made it seem like she was the only one at fault. “Just because we hook up doesn’t mean we’re together.”

“What?”

“I’m not living with a Pogue.” His face flashes with recognition, his cheeks turning a brighter pink.

“Okay stop it.” He whispered.

“I have standards.”

“Sofia, come on. I’m willing to look—”

“I don’t want you too. I don’t want you to look past it. Because if you do. You’re expecting me to look past what you said about me.” She paused, “and that’s a load of bullshit.”

“I didn’t mean those things! They were prying in shit that had nothing to do with them! I didn’t want them to ruin us!”

“You ruined us! You know what,”— He attempts to interrupt but she puts her hand out to stop him— “I’ll take accountability too. I ruined us too. No one else did that. But you and I. You can’t live in a fantasy world forever Rafe. It’s time you wake up.”

“I don’t care! Okay! I don’t care if I have to live in a fantasy world. As long as I’m with you! I love you!”

“Wake up Rafe!”

“No!”

She shook her head, stepping away from him. But he was quicker, he yanked her back towards him. She let out a yelp, shocked he’d done so. “Rafe!”

“You’re not leaving—”

“Mhmm.” Her manager. He had cleared his throat. “Mr. Cameron. I think highly of you and your late father. Please do not make me have to escort you out of the premises.”

Rafe gave sofia one last look before he let her go. He put his hands up and walked away. “Wasn’t necessary.” He continued to walk away, throwing another glance at her before he was out of sight.

“Miss. Jimenez. If any further issues come up.”

“I know, I know I’ll be fired.”

“No.”

She looked up in surprise.

“Let me know. Okay.” Her manager didn’t say anything more before making his way back into the bar. Sofia didn’t stand there for long. She followed him back inside. Trying to forget the sad eyed boy she loved.

[teatimeweirdo]

Note: can you tell when I left he overheated lecture hall and returned to my equally hot apartment? ...most of this is just Lahan being miserable in summer, cuz same. please let summer be over soon...anyways I want him

Warning: there's talk about food and forgetting to eat and drink, Lahan in general is miserable because I am miserable

Nice to Look at

Word around the Empire was that he had no interest in the allures of the flesh and to the outside that may be true, to everyone else he might only be interested in numbers and economic exploits, but behind closed doors he had his special someone, one he adored, one he cherished and according to him they were his perfect match, he enjoyed their company.

That special someone was you. When he met you, you weren't anything special, you were just a servant running around the palace fulfilling your duties, nothing of note, but you were quick and efficient, managed to do your tasks with a precision most other servants couldn't. That is what originally drew him to you, but the more he got to know you the deeper he fell, he wouldn't say it was love at first sight, rather it was a long and drawn out process of getting to know each other and a bit of bickering. Usually he hated bickering, he avoided it like the Plague but with you he enjoyed it, it was never useless nagging or fighting about mundane things, it was a constant one upping each other he found it endearing. You had great qualities, despite your unremarkable background you were smart, knew how to run things, knew how to play Go, not that it was one of his main priorities but it certainly helped, sure you weren't as calculating as he was and rather went with the flow of things, but even he himself sometimes needed someone to balance him out, while not directly giving him a headache. 

Currently he was investigating, gods know what, for Jinshi, after a failed attempt of getting a raise, not that it bothered him, he was well situated enough to not need the extra money, it would have just been nice, afterall he valued his work worth more than what he got, however that was not to discourage him  from doing his work, he found a certain kind of enjoyment in digging up dirt on people, but working well into the night was a lot even for him, even if he often stayed up late today was just somehow draining for him, maybe it was the heat that summer always brought or it might have been the fact that he didn’t see his beloved darling all day. He felt lonely and it was way to hot in his little office, so hot in fact that his spectacles refused to stay on his nose, they kept wanting to slide down forcing him to Interrupt his so he could push them back up, the skin on his nose started to burn, he felt like the first layer of his skin was already gone due to the amount of times he had to push the visual aid around. He also was hungry, he hadn't even noticed until now, he was so focused on his work but now that the discomfort was hitting it was hitting all at once.

Then knocking, only a soft knock, trying to be not too loud, not wanting to interrupt him. He only responded with a mumbled ‘come in’ thinking it was just someone else trying to put more work on him before he could finish up for the day, making his already torturous experience even worse. As much as he loved his work, he just couldn’t concentrate anymore, it was too warm, he felt too sticky, too hungry, too anything, concentration was just slipping, his mind felt fuzzy, his eyes couldn’t focus on the scroll in front of him anymore. The words just seemed to slip from the paper, everything on it just looked wobbly and wonky. His hands felt shaky and ached from writing all day, he could barely hold the brush anymore, his fingers were chafed from writing all day. All he wanted was a way out of his misery, maybe a cold bath to cool down his body after a long day stuck in a dark room illuminated by candles, while the sun outside was warming up the room as well. 

So naturally when the door opened and it was you standing in the doorway he felt genuine relief, he didn’t think he would ever be released from this prison of his own making. To see you, holding a bowl with what he assumed was food felt like the heavens were reaching out to him personally and throwing him a bone. This whole time he had just felt like he was melting away due to the heat, seconds felt like hours, he thought he had been in this room for days. His throat felt dry, he felt dizzy, it’s probably also been a while since he drank something, he was getting a headache due to his own thoughts, it added to the fuzziness and thumping he was already experiencing due to being dehydrated. 

“Thought you’d be in here. Have you eaten yet? or even drank anything? like anything at all?”

Your voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, it was like a saving grace. He was tempted to just nod, he could barely comprehend your questions. He watched you as you put down a cup of water in front of him, usually he would have tea with you but considering the heat outside some simple water was probably the better option for him. He just looked at you and then at the cup of water, almost as if expecting you to say something, he honestly couldn’t think.

“You need to drink something. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

As soon as some Water finally flowed down his throat he started feeling a little less dizzy, less fuzzy, mainly he felt a little less horrible. If it weren’t for you he probably would have long succumbed to his tendency to overwork himself and forget he still needs to eat and drink and even if he were to remember his basic needs, his day would still be brightened every time he saw you. He always looked at you as if you took the stars from the sky and presented them to him. His eyes met with yours again, this time with the same lovestruck expression he always looks at you with, his spectacles kind of slipping down again due to how moist his skin was. You moved your hand up to his face using your pointer finger to push the visual aid properly back onto his nose, Lahan, of course leaned into your touch, he kind of reminded you of a cat in this moment. You lean against the desk and softly kiss his forehead. 

He was content with how his life turned out so far, after all he had a loving and caring partner, who would do anything to make sure he was alright, as much as he loved being independent it was nice to have someone one could rely on. He finally finds the energy to sit up properly and stretch a little, getting a bit of relief after sitting around all day and doing some tedious desk work. He looks at you and smiles, it was that smile that might have reminded you of a docile fox and you smile back, he was certainly nice to look at. 

[antoimne]

Like Him- Part two

Dark!Toby x reader- relationship AU.

(You can find the previous part here)

(header art by @/shatteredankles).

Ever since you left, life had become nothing but a hollow pit for Toby.

When the door slammed behind you, his first instinct had been the only one he knew: destruction. It was always his language when pain became unbearable. A blind destruction of whatever he could find outside of himself.

He tore through the house like a storm. Vases smashed, furniture overturned, glass shattered across the floor. Even the wallpaper adorning the walls hadn’t been spared—stripped in ragged chunks by frantic, clawing hands. But none of it helped. Nothing could silence the loud overlapping voices in his head.

Eventually, he collapsed onto the bedroom floor, the room still holding your scent, your ghost. His hands trembled in his lap like a wounded child’s. Tears threatened to spill, but never came. He didn’t even know if he could cry anymore.

You had been with him for years. Since high school, before he dropped out and disappeared from the public system. Back when the world still had some sort of trace of color.

You were the only person, aside from Lyra, who treated him like he was something human. You’d shielded him from cruel words, from bullies, from the weight of simply existing in a world that despised him. You weren’t perfect—god knows, you had your own problems, your own darkness—but you loved him with a fierce, unwavering kind of protection. It was almost maternal at times. And Toby, who had never known what safety felt like, mistook it for salvation.

He used to sneak into your room at night when things at home got too bad. Sometimes with Lyra, sometimes alone. You never turned him away. You just held him. Whispered that things would be okay, even when they never were.

You promised you’d never, ever leave.

And now, you had.

There had always been fights—your relationship wasn’t the healthiest, not at all. You clashed, combusted. But this fight felt different. This time, it wasn’t just yelling or slamming doors. This time, you looked at him like you were afraid—genuinely afraid he could do something bad.

And worse, he had given you a reason to be.

The memory of his hand colliding with your face replayed in brutal, jarring loops. His stomach twisted. His hands gripped his hair, trying to tear the thought out of his skull.

No. No, no, no—

He had sworn, sworn to you that he’d never become like his father. That if he ever hurt you, you should kill him where he stood. And even though you hadn’t killed him physically, in a way, you had still ended him by leaving.

You had just done what he asked you to, but then why did it hurt?

Now he was nothing. Just a husk sitting in a ruined house, choking on guilt and silence.

The only other time he had felt this kind of soul-obliterating pain was when Lyra died. That wound had never healed. And then you… you came along and made him believe, just for a moment, that maybe he wasn’t doomed. That maybe he could be loved.

Now you were gone, and everything was hollow again. Worse than hollow—rotting.

He needed you. Your voice. Your touch. Even if it ended forever, he needed to see you one last time. Needed to know, face to face, that there really was no coming back from this.

He pulled himself together—barely. Cleaned up the wreckage of his breakdown. Grabbed his heavy jacket, the one you hated, and left. He climbed into his rusted black truck, hands shaking on the wheel.

He drove for hours, scouring familiar streets, scanning sidewalks, desperate for even a glimpse of you. But you were nowhere to be seen.

Frustration curdled into panic. His grip tightened. Thoughts spiraling more and more.

And that’s when the noise came back.

A static hiss—barely audible at first. Then progressively louder.

Tic.

His hands jolted off the wheel as a sharp click rang in his ears, involuntary, familiar. Unwelcome.

Tic-tic-tic.

“No,” he muttered. “Not now. Not again—”

His reflection in the rearview warped for a split second. The blackness beyond his window seemed… too still. Unnervingly still.

For months—maybe longer—Slender had been gone. Toby really thought that he was finally free, from his disturbing control and the life he had been forced to conduct ever since—

No more hallucinations. No more twisted whispers at the edge of his perception. Toby thought he’d finally severed that part of himself. Escaped the proxies. The endless blood.

He really thought he could finally find a sense of normalcy, build a life with you far from the usual shit he was involved in. He wanted all of that to stop, for you.

But now, he could feel it again.

His presence. Watching. Beckoning.

Like a shadow just out of frame.

Because without you, the darkness had space to crawl back in.

And maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was what happened to people like him when they let their light leave.

Still, he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

There was one last place he hadn’t checked. One last resort.

He hit the gas.

'Please be there', he thought. Just once more.

'Let me see you one last time before I disappear completely'.

——————

Hey, I’ve decided to expand this AU so let’s see how it goes!

As you can see some elements have been intentionally modified from Toby’s original story. Here’s some dive in Toby’s declining mind, hope you enjoy :)

[smooth-perceval]

𝓢𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶

Charles leclerc x Fem!Reader.

Chapter One - Collision course.

Brief: Charles is closed of from love- he just drives- reader is somewhat fascinated by him, but throw her in as his PR worker and you got yourself a recipe for danger.

Warnings: Errrrr none on this chapter <3 except no proof read! ❤️

The low hum of the engines outside the paddock was almost hypnotic- deep, guttural, and full of restrained power. It rumbled in my chest as I stood just inside the Ferrari hospitality suite, clutching my laptop to my chest like it was some kind of armour.

It smelled like espresso, leather and something underneath- the raw tang of adrenaline and gasoline. The heartbeat of Formula One.

I had no business being here.

At least, that’s what the voice in my head kept whispering as i smiled politely at passing engineers, drivers and Pr personnel. My name badge felt too shiny, too new, like i was playing dress-up in someone else’s world.

Ferrari. The most iconic name in motorsport.

And i was the new intern.

“(Y/N)” a sharp voice called out from across the room.

I turned to find Elena- my boss, a career PR woman with stilettos sharper than her attitude- beckoning me with her perfectly manicured finger.

“Charles is finishing in his sim session. You need to brief him before the sky sports interview in twenty.”

My heart kicked up- “Charles Leclerc?”

With a roll of her eyes she let out a sigh. “Unless there’s another Charles in a Ferrari suit with a world championship on the line, then yes.”

Great, just my luck. Day one, and I’m thrown into the lions den.

Charles Leclerc was… well, he was a force. I’d read the stories, seen the clips. He was focused, rarely smiled anymore. Gave everything- everything! To the car. And he gave nothing to the media. Or his fans anymore. In fact not even women, apparently. There were rumours- he’d sworn off dating after a messy breakup two years ago. Racing was his only love.

I found the media room down the corridor and hesitated as i stood outside the closed door. My palms were damp. I wiped them on my shirt and entered hesitantly.

There he was.

Charles Leclerc.

In the flesh he was… arresting. Taller than i imagined, though that might’ve been the presence more than the height. He wore a red Ferrari polo, untucked, short sleeves stretched around his muscular arms. Hair disbelieved but… perfect? And despite all that… his eyes caught me.

Green. Sharp. Cool like sea glass. The slid over me once- a slow, assessing glance- and then they dropped to the phone in his hand.

“You’re with PR?”

His voice was low, threaded with that deep, rich Monegasque accent.

I cleared my throat. “(Y/N). I’m your new media assistant.”

He didn’t respond. Just turned back into the room and left the door open behind him.

Okay then…

I stepped inside cautiously. He dropped into a chair near the corner, his long legs stretched out, phone still in hand. His posture screamed nonchalance, but there was tension in the way his jaw ticked- a stillness that felt like it could snap at any moment.

“I just need five minutes,” I said, powering on the laptop. “They’ll want a soundbite about Monaco. Something about the new upgrades. Maybe a bit about-”

“No personal questions.”

I blinked.

He hadn’t looked up.

“I don’t comment on my private life. Not to press. Not to fans. Not to PR. Not to anyone.”

My chest tightened. “I wasn’t- I wasn’t going to ask about your personal life.”

He finally looked up. Met my gaze. His stare was… intense. Unapologetic. He didn’t blink, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

“Good,” he said. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”

I nodded, forcing my voice to stay even. “Great. So… just talk about tire strategy and downforce, then?”

Something flickered in his expression- the ghost of a smirk, maybe. But it was gone so quickly I wasn’t sure it had ever been there.

“Downforce,” he echoed dryly. “My favorite subject.”

There was sarcasm in his tone, but also something else. Tension. Not the angry kind- the electric kind. It hung in the air between us like static.

He stood, walking past me to grab a water bottle from the counter. His shoulder brushed mine- barely- but it left a trail of heat across my skin. I bit the inside of my cheek.

I could not be attracted to Charles Leclerc.

This man was arrogant. Distant. Untouchable.

And yet… when he glanced over his shoulder at me before taking a drink, lips parting just slightly… My stomach flipped.

I was in trouble.

Big, fast, red-flag-waving trouble.

He drank slowly, the muscles in his throat shifting as he swallowed. My eyes betrayed me- they followed the motion, lingered on his jawline, the light sheen of sweat still clinging to the edge of his hairline. Get a grip. This is Charles freaking Leclerc. He probably has carbon fiber where his heart should be.

Still, the air in the room was… tight. Like we were both trying not to acknowledge something simmering just under the surface. He turned back to me, unscrewing the cap on his water bottle like he had all the time in the world. “How long have you been with Ferrari?”

“Uh- today,” I said. “First day.”

His brows lifted slightly. “They’re already sending you to deal with me? Must be a test.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking. Probably not.

“They said you’re… particular,” I replied cautiously. A flicker of something passed through his eyes. Annoyance? Humor? I couldn’t tell. But he stepped closer. Not enough to be inappropriate- but enough that I caught his scent. Expensive cologne and sweat and something purely him.

“Particular,” he repeated slowly, eyes scanning mine like he was trying to read something buried in me. “That’s a polite way of putting it.”

I swallowed. “I don’t do impolite. Not on my first day.”

His lips curved ever so slightly. “Smart.” I realized then that he was close. Too close. My back almost grazed the edge of the table behind me. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body. His gaze dropped for a fraction of a second- not to my lips, not obviously- but lower. Subtle.

Calculated.

My heartbeat stuttered.

His phone buzzed. The moment shattered. He glanced at the screen and his entire posture shifted- back straight, jaw clenched, eyes cold again. Whatever softness had almost crept in was gone. Just like that. “I have to go.”

“Right,” I said, stepping aside, suddenly cold without his presence. “Good luck out there.”

He paused at the door. His hand lingered on the frame for a second longer than necessary. Then, he turned his head just enough to speak over his shoulder.

“You talk like someone who doesn’t believe in luck.”

“I don’t,” I replied, steady. He looked at me. Really looked. And then gave the smallest, most frustratingly unreadable smirk.

“Good. Neither do I.”

And then he was gone.

Leaving behind a room that still smelled like him, and a part of me that knew- knew- this wasn’t going to be simple.

[inky-sun]

The mornings are slow here. He wakes before the sun sometimes, makes coffee just the way I like it, humming a little under his breath as he moves around the kitchen barefoot. The smell reaches me before his kiss does, warm on my forehead, gentle in its routine. The children are still half-dreaming, tucked into the softness of blankets, their laughter not yet spilled across the house. Outside, the trees sway like old friends watching over us, and the light filters through the leaves in ribbons.

There is no rush in this life. No performance. Just the quiet joy of being known — completely, unapologetically — and still chosen. He folds laundry without being asked. He listens, not just to my words but to the silence between them. He notices when I’m tired, when the weight of the world leans too heavily on my shoulders, and without fanfare, he lifts it — in small ways, in kind ways, in ways I never knew I needed.

The children grow like wildflowers here. With scraped knees and paint-smudged fingers, with stories whispered in treehouses and hands sticky from fruits. Their lives are stitched with love, not perfection. And at night, we curl into the soft rhythm of a house that breathes — wood creaking under our steps, the wind brushing against the windows, the steady hush of something whole.

This is not a grand story. There are no fireworks. No dramatic music swelling in the background. Just the steady pulse of love that shows up, again and again. In the dishes washed. In the leaves raked. In the way he looks at me across the table, like somehow — after all this time — I’m still the most beautiful thing in his life.

And I love him. In the quiet. In the noise. In the life we built where everything, finally, feels like home.

(something i wrote so long ago, imagining what it would be and feel like)

[azzifudd10]

Somewhere To Land

Chapter 27: My Little Love

Friday – One Week Before Eli’s Birthday

Azzi stood in the middle of her living room, surrounded by a minefield of party supplies.

Half-blown balloons. Two tangled banners. A Pinterest board open on her laptop titled “First Birthday Party Goals.” And a to-do list on the coffee table with fourteen unchecked boxes.

Eli sat on the floor gnawing on a measuring spoon.

Azzi ran a hand through her curls, already spiraling.

“I don’t have the cake sorted,” she muttered to herself. “I still need to finalize the guest list. And the caterer just canceled because of a family emergency and—”

Eli let out a delighted squeal as the spoon dropped with a clatter.

Azzi dropped her head into her hands and groaned.

Later That Afternoon – Talking to Eli

Eli was nestled on Azzi’s lap in his favorite armchair, his curls still damp from his bath. The sky outside was fading into a warm lavender as the sun dipped low, and the house smelled faintly of lavender and baby soap.

Azzi rocked him gently.

“My little love…” she whispered, brushing her fingers over his cheek. “I’ve been planning this birthday for weeks, and I feel like I’ve failed already. I just want it to be… everything.”

Eli blinked up at her, sleepy and completely unbothered.

Azzi gave a teary laugh. “You have no idea, do you?”

She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re turning one. And it should feel like a celebration. Not just because you’re here — but because we made it. We survived the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. And we’re still standing.”

Her voice dropped lower, almost into song as she gently rocked him side to side.

“My little love,I see your eyes widen like an ocean…”

Her voice wavered but kept going.

“When you look at me, so full of my emotions…”

Eli’s eyes fluttered. His little fingers wrapped around hers.

“I’m holding on, barely…Mama’s got a lot to learn.”

Azzi tucked her face into the crook of his neck, her voice raw.

“I’m sorry if I make it all about me…”

She let the lullaby drift off into silence, just her breathing and his breathing and the soft creak of the rocking chair beneath them.

Saturday – Paige’s Apartment

“Why didn’t you tell me you were spiraling?” Paige asked gently.

Azzi sat at the table, hair pulled into a loose bun, an iced coffee untouched in front of her.

“I wanted it to be perfect. I needed it to be,” she said quietly. “After everything we just went through, I thought… if I make this day really special, then maybe he won’t feel the weight of what came before.”

Paige moved to sit beside her. “Azzi, he’s one. He doesn’t need a circus.”

“I know.”

“What he needs is you. And you’re already giving him that.”

Azzi finally looked up at her, eyes tired but grateful.

“Help me scale it back?”

Paige smiled. “Already cleared my Saturday. We’ll get it done together.”

Later That Day – Shopping Together

Azzi pushed the cart while Paige carried Eli in the wrap, bouncing him gently as they passed through the decorations aisle.

“Blue or green for the balloons?” Azzi asked, holding up two options.

Eli reached for the green one.

Paige grinned. “There’s your answer.”

They picked up a simple but adorable cake order, grabbed bubble wands for the toddlers, and made plans for finger foods and a fruit tray.

“I feel better already,” Azzi said as they checked out. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Besides…” Paige winked, “…I want to see him smash cake in your face.”

Azzi laughed for the first time all day. “Not happening.”

That Night – Another Quiet Moment with Eli

Azzi curled into the nursery chair, Eli already half-asleep in her arms. She sang again — just soft hums this time, brushing his cheek, soaking in his warmth.

She whispered, “I hope you never wonder if you’re enough.”

Eli stirred, tiny hand curling against her heart.

“And if I ever get it wrong… I hope you still know how deeply you’re loved.”

Azzi’s Phone Buzzes

Text from a number she doesn’t recognize:

“We heard about the birthday party. We'd like to come. Just to see him.” – Sharon Wright

Azzi stared at the screen for a long, long time.

Her hands tightened around Eli, holding him a little closer.

[abigailspinach]

Rilla of Ingleside - Chapter 8 and 9

I missed yesterday so I will just sneak in a few excellent quotes.

Chapter 8 Rilla Decides:

"She bathed and fed and dressed it as skilfully as if she had been doing it all her life. She liked neither her job nor the baby any the better; she still handled it as gingerly as if it were some kind of a small lizard, and a breakable lizard at that; but she did her work thoroughly and there was not a cleaner, better-cared-for infant in Glen St. Mary."

LOL we need more people in literature who are not a fan of kids. It's very relatable. They are all small and delicate and it's terrifying for the first month.

"Una doesn't mind, of course. She is willing to do anything that comes to hand and never minds whether she has an office or not. She is just a perfect angel, while I am only angelic in spots and demonic in other spots."

Una you are excellent but I worry you are a pushover.

"he creeps dejectedly back to his shed, with his disappointed eyes, and lies down patiently to wait for the next train. Mr. Gray, the station master, says there are times when he can hardly help crying from sheer sympathy. One day some boys threw stones at Monday and old Johnny Mead, who never was known to take notice of anything before, snatched up a meat axe in the butcher's shop and chased them through the village."

DOG MONDAY I CANT WITH YOU. HE SPENDS YEARS WAITING AT THE STATION. LIKE 50% OF HIS LIFE WAITING IN THE COLD... CHECKING EVERY TRAIN.... it's just RUDE!!!

"When he talks of commonplace things it does not matter so much, but when he talks of poetry and ideals the contrast between his nose and his conversation is too much for me and I want to shriek with laughter. It is really not fair, because everything he said was perfectly charming and if somebody like Kenneth had said it I would have been enraptured."

Look this is sassy but at least at 15 she knows it's kinda jerky and only writes it in her diary. Self aware teen is a good thing.

"Even the British navy cannot sail on dry land, Sophia Crawford."

LOL BURN. Get roasted, Sophia Crawford.

CHAPTER IX

DOC HAS A MISADVENTURE

"Whiskers says that he will believe the stories of German atrocities when he sees them, and that it is a good thing that Rangs Cathedral has been destroyed because it was a Roman Catholic church. Now, I am not a Roman Catholic, Mrs. Dr. dear, being born and bred a good Presbyterian and meaning to live and die one, but I maintain that the Catholics have as good a right to their churches as we have to ours and that the Huns had no kind of business to destroy them."

It's a low bar but at least Susan can clear it (unlike many a people in the world around me today).

PHIL SHOUTOUT - HI PHIL! So Priscilla lived in Japan for all these decades. Googling the history of missionaries in Japan and was it the Edo period when Japan was closed to the outside world under the Tokugawa shogunate in first half of 1800s? So this must be after?

""Even Billy Andrews' boy is going—and Jane's only son—and Diana's little Jack," said Mrs. Blythe. "Priscilla's son has gone from Japan and Stella's from Vancouver—and both the Rev. Jo's boys. Philippa writes that her boys 'went right away, not being afflicted with her indecision.'"

"Even Rilla here, my 'lily of the field,' is running a Red Cross Society full blast and saving a little life for Canada. That's a good piece of work."

Awwww what a nice way to say that. saving a life. Hey is Jims your first grandbaby? Sorta??? Trial run???

"But as the autumn weeks went by no word came from Jim Anderson, who had never been heard from since he sailed from Halifax, and to whom the fate of wife and child seemed a matter of indifference. Eventually Rilla decided to call the baby James, and Susan opined that Kitchener should be added thereto. So James Kitchener Anderson became the possessor of a name somewhat more imposing than himself."

More side eye to Jim Anderson... Side Eye! But I love wee baby Jims and his big name.

"the sky was fleeced over with silvery, shining clouds. Rainbow Valley lay in a soft, autumnal haze of fairy purple. The maple grove was a burning bush of colour and the hedge of sweet-briar around the kitchen yard was a thing of wonder in its subtle tintings."

NATURE

"The floor was littered with fragments of broken dishes, for it seemed that the fatal tragedy had taken place on the long dresser where Susan's array of cooking bowls had been marshalled in shining state."

Not the pyrex!!! I love crockery and bowls and kitchen things.

"said Susan loftily. "That beast is in torment, and whatever my opinion of him may be, I cannot endure to see him suffering pain. You keep away, Rilla, for little Kitchener's sake, and I will see what I can do."

Susan is a women of principles. Even if she hates that cat. (Secret Softie).